There have been few times in my life where words have completely failed me. I often am not the best at describing things (more so verbally than in writing - with writing I have time to craft thoughts - verbally, I often use words that I assign my own arbitrary meaning to, which doesn't help much with communication). Today, though, I had an experience that defies words, defies definition, defies description. I'll try to apply all of those things anyway, because that's what you do when you try and share it with others, even though I know it won't come out right or come even close to capturing what it was like.
Today, after a long day of training and work at the radio station, my housemates and I headed out towards Rosebud (a nearby town) to help our boss at the radio station set up tables, tents, and other things for our radio station, KINIfm. Starting tonight was the Rosebud Fair, which is a big deal around these parts. Fairs are a pretty big deal in small town culture it seems, and this is no different. There are carnival games, rides, a rodeo, mud racing, softball tournaments, and most exciting of all, pow-wow. I have been looking forward to the fair since I saw it on my schedule, so it's arrival has been much anticipated by both me and the rest of the Rosebud Rez. Everyone is excited.
When we got to the fairgrounds and finally met up with our boss, we unloaded all the gear and set up the tents and other things. I met a guy who is friends with our boss and one of my other co-workers who was there to help set-up, as well as to set up his own tipi behind our booth. A lot of the Lakota who I met often joke with me, asking if I expected to come out to the Rez and still find people living in tipis and hunting buffalo. This was actually the first tipi I had really seen on the Rez.
As the guys were setting up the tipi, they called me over and asked me if I wanted to help out. Now, in order to really understand how I reacted to this (internally, cause I definitely kept it cool on the outside - I hope), you have to understand how big a nerd I am about this stuff. I am literally obsessed with Lakota culture. Any of my GO! project members to the Navajo Nation can provide examples of how many times I freaked out and nerded out while learning about different spiritual practices and cultural nuances. I absolutely live for this stuff, I love. So when they asked me to help out, I jumped right up and ran over, eager for instructions and to take part.
The brilliance of the design is really awesome, considering it's just some tarp, poles and ropes. The pattern of laying the poles in order while wrapping the ropes around them to keep everything stable, of watching the wrinkles of the tarp correct itself as the tipi becomes more and more complete - it is spiritual, really. It put me in a state of being more in tune with what was going on around me, with how I fit into things. I was just beyond excited to even be a part of the process, and to have the guy explain the meanings of the design on top of it was almost too much.
I got to talking with some of the guys about Lakota culture, about traditional ways and what they are doing to bring that back to the kids of the Rez who have suffered the effects of cultural destruction that so influenced their parents generation. Hearing about their own experiences and education with tribal elders was awe-inspiring.
Looking back now, I realize that somewhere in this whole experience, things stopped being real. Or rather, they became so real that it is almost unreal. Semantics, I know, but there is a reason that transcendent experiences seem to defy words and description. Somewhere in the course of my own learning and participation, I seemed to lose track of myself and all the thoughts that usually are flying around, only to find myself perfectly aware of where I was situated, of where I was and how I related to the things around me.
It had been raining for a bit, pretty hard with dark clouds swarming in on the area where we were working. As I stopped and looked out, the sun was setting in blue sky with bold clouds cushioning the horizon. The blood orange of the sun had a sort of warm, soft glow to it as the rain was still gently falling on my head, on everything, bringing out the smell of wet grass. All around me were still dark storm clouds, and as I basked in the glory of such a beautiful moment, I noticed that lightning was flashing all around, sending thunder echoing across the plains. I heard a wood flute playing, with the lightning and thunder in perfect harmony with the soft and beautiful noise, entering into the steady wind that had been blowing against my back the entire time I stood there, the notes a prayer to be carried by the wind across the whole world. There was a time in this moment where I stopped existing, and at the same time existed more fully than I ever have before. I didn't just feel, or think, but knew that I was a part of everything, and that everything was a part of me. There was a presence of something - of everything - of nothing - all at the same time. Perfect harmony.
I felt like I never wanted to leave. Ever. I would have been content to stay in that heaven, with the range of life and possibility inhabiting one space, for the rest of my life.
When I finally did leave, I was left thoroughly disoriented, thoroughly unsettled. Not in a bad way. Not at all. I just don't understand what happened. What it means for me. What it means for why I am out here. What my purpose is. I could almost feel myself changing. Feel that some movement and transformation of spirit was occurring in a way that felt almost instantaneous, physical even.
It has left me with more questions than answers, but I couldn't trade an experience like that for anything in the world.
No comments:
Post a Comment