When jingle dress dancer Rhyia JoyHeart stepped into our camp in her handmade regalia on the final evening of the Indigenous Wisdom Summit & Four Directions Ride, a look of admiration and awe spread across the faces of the two young Native girls seated nearby. 

Rhyia, a proud Eastern Shoshone & Northern Arapaho young woman, carries herself with a power and presence that demonstrates what it means to stand tall in one’s heritage. As she entered the circle, she spoke of the history of her people and the legacy of her family: “We as Native People introduce not only ourselves and our tribe, but also our relatives, because it’s important to know who you come from and where you come from,” she stated as the silver cones of her dress rang out their gentle song into the wind.

Rhyia also shared the deeply sacred teachings surrounding the Jingle Dress Dance, a healing dance with Ojibwe origins that she began to study after suffering a family loss. Before dancing the Jingle Dress Dance for Summit & Ride attendees, she expressed her desire for the dance to be healing for those present in the circle, for Indigenous communities, and for the world: 
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“We dance for the people.” - Rhyia JoyHeart

Hohóu and aishen to Rhyia for the knowledge, grace, and sacred dancing she brings to our circle each time she joins us!

Day 3 of the Indigenous Wisdom Summit & Four Directions Ride was marked by smooth afternoon horseback rides, cross-cultural community building, and an enlightening evening presentation by Navajo wellness educator Darryl Slim.

Darryl - a soft-spoken and deeply spiritual Diné man who is almost never found without a peaceful smile across his face, two neat braids running down his back and a floral hairband that honors the traditional dress of Navajo women - entered our camp carrying an aura of gentleness that was immediately palpable. As teachings around mindfulness stemming from the traditional upbringing he received from his grandparents poured forth into our circle, one could feel the laser-focus with which each attendee was attuned to his words. He taught of the interconnectedness of plants, animals, humans, air and water and the need to tend to each element of life. Throughout the presentation, he encouraged participants to pay attention to the silent stillness “beneath the sound.".

When we tend to the elements of life, he explained, we return to wholeness and thus begin to heal. This type of mindfulness, embodied in protection songs he sang in his Diné language, helps us to “...really get to know who you are really not.” Getting to know who we are really not then opens the way for us to tune into the silent stillness all around: “The more you get to know the silent, the more you get to know yourself.” In this way, we may more fully come into who we truly are and may connect with all things, making our own unique mark on the world in harmony with all other beings. As Darryl’s grandfather taught him, “Everyone should sprout up like a flower, and have their own pollen.”

A'he'hee to Darryl for the sacred teachings he shares and the wonderful presence he brings to each Tipi Raisers event he travels to! We are immensely grateful.

​This is part two of a four-part email series reflecting on each day of the Indigenous Wisdom Summit & Four Directions Ride, which took place from July 16th-19th in Colorado. The series will continue to unfold over the coming weeks. Check out our reflections from Day 1 HERE and stay tuned for more!

After the arrival of our Four Directions Riders and an honoring ceremony for several Tipi Raisers community members on Day 2 of the Indigenous Wisdom Summit & Four Directions Ride, Joseph Medicine Robe (Lakota) engaged attendees with flute & drum performances and a powerful talk centered on Indigenous spirituality.​

“Come to the center.” Joseph invited the group to ponder this phrase as he began to share Lakota prayer songs and teachings. “Come to the center of your family, of your community. Come to the center of Turtle Island and the Galaxy.” As the sound of the flute and, later, the beat of Joseph’s drum echoed through the trees that shaded us, one could begin to imagine the days when Spirit, land, animal and human were so connected that they seemed to be synchronized to the same heartbeat.

While it may often feel out of reach amidst the challenges of modern life, that connection, Joseph teaches, can be tapped into through prayer. He explained that the Lakota word Wocekiya, often translated simply as “prayer,” can more accurately be interpreted as “establishing the Sacred Connection.” When we engage in Wocekiya, when we come to our center, the center of an emotion, the center of all things, we establish the ever-present Sacred Connection from which the world often distracts us. In this way, he expressed through a prayer song, we can show up with compassion and respect for all nations and all things. “How powerful it would be if we saw the sacred in one another.” - Joseph Medicine Robe

Wopila to Joseph for sharing such transformative teachings with us at the Indigenous Wisdom Summit & Four Directions Ride and for his willingness to sing and drum for our horses, riders, and attendees throughout the event! And thank you to Marty Chase Alone for sharing your prayers and your presence with our group!

The first day of the Indigenous Wisdom Summit & Four Directions Ride took us to the Black Hills by way of a virtual experience at the Fiske Planetarium in Boulder, CO. As we gazed up at the galaxy from our seats, this journey across the stars took us to Mato Tipila (the Bear’s Lodge/Bear Butte), the site of the most sacred of ceremonies for the Lakota people - the Sundance. And for thousands of years, long before colonization and the arrival of the Gregorian calendar, the Lakota tribe has made its way across the Black Hills to Bear Butte at just the right time of year to engage in this sacred rite. The ceremony was timed according to the movement of the stars, with the tribe’s Star Keepers carefully studying the path of the Sacred Hoop collection of constellations - a celestial mirror that forms the shape of the Black Hills themselves and the geographic features therewithin.

​The amazement and awe in the eyes of the Lakota elders in attendance - fluent speakers of their language who have known of these deeply spiritual teachings their whole lives, and who were seeing their spirituality affirmed by astronomical science demonstrated on the dome above them - is an image that will stay with us for a long time.

It was an honor to learn of this Lakota Star Knowledge from Dr. John Stocke and the Lakota researchers he cited, including Charlotte Black Elk. Our deepest gratitude to Dr. Stocke and the Fiske Planetarium for generously hosting us at their facility and for sharing such sacred knowledge!

The inaugural Indigenous Wisdom Summit/Four Directions Ride will make its debut in 2022. The LakotaRide (which has been retired for practical and philosophical reasons, explained below) was the predecessor to this event. 

The LakotaRide began in Breckenridge, Colorado in 2014 with just two riders going up and over the 14,000 foot Continental Divide and ending in Boulder a week later. It was initially conceived of in order to bring awareness and raise funds to bring building materials salvaged from the original Breckenridge Nordic Lodge to address substandard housing issues on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.

For the five years following this epic launch of the LakotaRide, it gained momentum, riders, supporters and miles and became our signature event! Each of those five years, the LakotaRide moved across the heavily populated front range of Colorado and crossed over into the wide open spaces of Wyoming and Nebraska before ending, twenty two days and over 400 miles later, on Pine Ridge. The friendships forged, selfless generosity exhibited and depth of community established on these LakotaRides will forever be a gift in the lives of those involved.

In 2020 we commemorated the previous rides and riders through our virtual event - The Spirit of the LakotaRide. Both 2020 and 2021 Rides were cancelled due to the Covid pandemic.

​In those years, we have had time to look back and to look forward. As the small nonprofit has developed, we now envision an evolved signature event with lessons learned from past LakotaRides.

Practically speaking, we know what goes into these multi-state, multi-week rides and quite simply, our Ride team is not getting any younger.  The sheer miles on horseback and the physicality involved to execute an event such as this takes a tremendous toll over time. 

And from a philosophical standpoint, we have been approached more and more from other Tribes in the region - all of whom we're eager to partner with. And we understand that they, like the Lakota, have a rich culture and history that we can all learn from. Thus, the Indigenous Wisdom Summit with the ceremonial Four Directions Ride was born!

In the spring of 1864, thousands of Navajo People were removed from their homelands and forced onto The Long Walk. The four-year internment they would face at the conclusion of the walk marked the darkest period of Navajo history and the beginning of a generational trauma that echoes into the present-day.

​While the decade preceding the 1860s had been characterized by war in the Southwest between encroaching US forces and Navajo (Diné) warriors, military incursions into Navajo lands increased amidst the Civil War. In 1863, then-territorial governor of New Mexico General James H. Carleton ordered a military campaign to drive the Navajo out of their traditional lands. Overseeing this campaign was Colonel Kit Carson and his 1st New Mexico Volunteer Cavalry Regiment, who invaded the Canyon de Chelly in Diné lands on January 12th, 1864. The troops set fire to hundreds of acres of trees, crops, and hogans (traditional Navajo dwellings), slaughtered livestock, poisoned water wells, and killed Diné men, women, and children as they swept through the Canyon.
 
With little choice, thousands of Navajo living in the region were forced to surrender to Carson and his regiment and walk to the Bosque Redondo Reservation, located hundreds of miles away in New Mexico. Throughout the spring of 1864, large groups of Navajo continued to be sent against their will to Bosque Redondo, referred to in the Navajo language as Hwéeldi. Hundreds died of exposure, murder by US forces, and other causes during the journey, which came to be known as the Long Walk of the Navajo. 

Those who had been forced onto the Long Walk were held at a prison camp on the Bosque Redondo Reservation from 1864 to 1868 by US soldiers. Conditions on the reservation were dire for the Diné and the hundreds of Mescalero Apache whom had also been forced into the camp- almost a third of the over 8,000 Navajo held there had died before the tribe was able to return to their homelands in 1868. According to Navajo oral tradition, it was the Diné women at Bosque Redondo who were able to convince camp commissioners to allow their people to return home. 

Though 158 years have passed since the start of the Long Walk, its impact persists for Navajo people. Researchers have explained that the challenges of poverty, addiction, and mental health crises faced by Diné communities today are rooted in the generational trauma of the Long Walk. But in spite of these challenges and the painful memory of the Bosque Redondo era, the legacy of the Long Walk also calls to mind the resilience of the Navajo people as they stood strong against the attempted eradication of their land, their culture, and their lives.

​Additional resources on the Long Walk of the Navajo, the Bosque Redondo era, and the modern-day impact of the Long Walk listed below.

Pansy Weasel Bear, treasured friend and partner of the Tipi Raisers, suffered the loss of her brother during this period of violence. We recently spoke with Pansy about what life on Pine Ridge was like at the time of the occupation and the years that followed:

"I would go with my older sister to AIM gatherings, rallies. I used to think it was fun; I didn't realize it was dangerous." Pansy was around 12 years old at the time of the occupation of Wounded Knee. Her parents, she explained, used to cook meals for AIM supporters late at night during the occupation. AIM members would quietly enter their home, retrieve the food, and carry it back to Wounded Knee to feed the activists, whose access to food was limited due to the federal blockade surrounding them. Following the murder of her brother, she recalls pleading with her father to let she and her siblings attend the funeral. Her father had believed it would be too dangerous for them to accompany him due to the tense atmosphere amidst the conflict between AIM supporters and Wilson's private police, but ultimately allowed them to go.

​When her family returned from the funeral the next evening, her father noticed blood stains across the door knob and doorway of their home; a woman had been murdered nearby, and her killer must have attempted to enter the home while escaping. In another incident, Pansy's father was accosted at work by supporters of Wilson: "They broke three of his fingers and said 'let that be a reminder that you don’t support the American Indian Movement. We know where you live, we know you’re supporting AIM, and we’ll come get you.'"

In order to keep his family safe, Pansy’s father trained her and her siblings to handle rifles and had the children practice an emergency escape plan, should they be attacked at home in the midst of the turmoil on the reservation. On one particular evening, the plan which they had repeatedly rehearsed had to be rapidly put into action. "One night cars were flying toward our house and that was different. [...] I told my sister, 'it's time to go!'" Pansy, still a young child at the time, followed the escape plan down to the letter, retrieving the rifle and ammunition her father had carefully trained her to use, escorting her siblings to the bunker near their home, and firing into the sky to scare away the people who had begun breaking into the house.

It was a time of extreme turmoil and loss for tribal members on Pine Ridge, but the legacy of the Wounded Knee Occupation and the American Indian Movement lives on today. The siege at Wounded Knee had opened the eyes of the world to broken treaties, the continued oppression of Indigenous Peoples, and the resilience of Native communities. On the lasting impact of AIM and the activists at Wounded Knee, Pansy expressed: "They fought for our rights to be recognized and to be treated as people.”

We are immensely grateful for Pansy and her willingness to share these powerful stories. It is a privilege to be able to hear and learn from firsthand accounts of this deeply important history.

Dear Friends,

In 1971, Elton John and Bernie Taupin wrote “Indian Sunset,” a song about a young warrior in the latter part of the 18th century who was slowly watching his “People being crushed” – as the Europeans and new Americans inexorably and overwhelmingly moved across and invaded the continent.  The song follows the warrior, on horseback, and his small family as they see the bison disappear, their People lose hope and pride and their way of life become overrun by the wave of invaders coming to chase “hills of gold.” He searches for his ancestors’ help, his chiefs and the lands that give healing water.  The song makes clear the desperation, futility and crushing of the Soul that must have been evident for some – and certainly were for the protagonist of the song – during this time in history.

It is not the first time – and clearly won’t be the last – that a People, a warrior and his family, a way of life and a culture have been threatened by an invasion, another tribe, a Power or a change in history.  Natural occurrences have also shifted and threatened humanity, and indeed all living life, in similarly cataclysmic ways for thousands . . . . even millions, of years. 

The current pandemic, which stubbornly persists, could arguably be seen as a possible harbinger of similar times.  In the same way, and almost inconceivably, there are reasonable arguments now being made in this modern time, that a second American Civil War is . . . . . conceivable (not likely perhaps, but . . . . conceivable?!). Melting glacier shelves, virtual infernos that are anything but virtual, Texas-sized “islands” of toxic plastic floating in the middle of the planet . . . . perhaps this is the sort of seemingly unstoppable destruction and finality that the warrior saw in that Indian Sunset.

Wise Elders from Indigenous Peoples all over the planet used to guide their People through times like this with hard-earned and time-tested wisdom.  Lakota wisdom.  Navajo wisdom.  Hopi wisdom.  Aboriginal wisdom.  Minoan, Inuit, Caucasus, Saami, Mayan, Mbenga, Bedouin wisdom.  From all over the world.  From all races.  From every corner of the globe.  The wisdom from each of our ancient ancestors was available to guide and inform those who were – and are – willing to listen. 

We are approaching two years of exceptionally challenging times for many of our families, for the relatives, friends and volunteers with whom we work, play, ride and travel with – and, indeed, for our organization as a whole.  How does a small non-profit with limited resources continue to carry out its already complicated and challenging mission when the volunteers that are its lifeblood are literally threatened by a pandemic?  How does a community such as Ti Ikciya Pa Slata Pi (The Tipi Raisers) in the best of times navigate an effective way through the trauma, historical trauma, mistrust, remoteness and depth of need that are sometimes seemingly insurmountable hurdles to carrying out our goals and intentions?  During a pandemic with its economic challenges and also a time when many of our long standing institutions and communities are now under attack, the mission becomes layered in even deeper levels of complexity and challenge.

​And so, we have learned again to listen to Indigenous wisdom and to allow it to inform our modern reality.  The Lakota have a word, “wowancin tanke,” that roughly translates into “perserverance”.  A Lakota elder describing that word summons up the image of the bison turning to face the incoming blizzard, instead of running from it as the domesticated cow does.

A Hopi storyteller tells of how the omnipresent crows circling their villages were the court jesters of the People, reminding them with their “Caw!!  Caw!!” of the absurdity in which they were carrying on in their daily human lives.
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The Papuan of New Guinea – and Indigenous Peoples from South America, Africa, Australia and other continents also – all taught their warriors through the scarification of their young men’s bodies -- of the value of struggle, sacrifice and connection to God, Spirit, the Unknowable.

The Christians, Buddhists, Native Americans and Indigenous Peoples from virtually every corner of the Earth taught about, knew and unfailingly rested on the foundation of disciplined, humble and consistent prayer – similarly through the burning of a wide variety of plants, incense, fire.  Wocekiye, the Lakota call it (“crying out to the Sacred”); “Precatio”, the Christians call it; “Tefliah” (Hebrew); “Sodizon” (Navajo); “Inua” (Inuit).

Taupin and John wrote their beautiful and mournful song from their perspectives and understanding as English storytellers.  And so, perhaps they miscalculated the perseverance, patience and resilience of the American Indians.  From that perspective, their warrior gives his life and his People die.  In reality, however, we know that was not how the story unfolded over time. Native American cultures and ways of life have, in fact, endured and will endure to inform and benefit the Modern World, as will most Indigenous teachings . . . . for those willing to listen and learn.  In that way, history is written over generations, not in headlines and moments of time. It is more important than ever to pay homage to, and honor all ancestral wisdom. To trust in their truth and take comfort in their wisdom.  

And so, as we look ahead to 2022, we envision navigating these difficult and challenging times - in community with you - and leaning into Indigenous wisdom from around the world to guide us. 

There is much to look forward to in the year ahead! While a work in progress, our calendar is already filling up with Gen7 gatherings and with opportunities for all generations to be in service and community with one another. And we look with eager anticipation to share information with you - as we have it - about the development of a more accessible and sustainable infrastructure to support and expand our activities and services.

We are grateful for our community around the world - for your ongoing support – in the myriad of ways in which it is offered. For that too is a lesson from those who walked through difficult times in the past:  We are so much stronger when we stay together in community and family.

Wishing you and yours peace and health in the New Year!

Dave

While joy and holiday merriment may define November and December for many, the season is accompanied by the anniversaries of several massacres against Native peoples and a spirit of somber remembrance for the Indigenous victims of violence at the hands of the US Government.

In Colorado, November 29th marked 157 years since the Sand Creek Massacre and a chance to reflect on the injustices, past and present, faced by Native communities.

Violence and discrimination against Indigenous people in Colorado territory had heightened in the months leading up to the 1864 massacre after then-territorial Governor John Evans made two proclamations calling for the forced relocation of tribes and the killing of any Indigenous person deemed “hostile” by settlers.

​After moving to the land area designated by treaties, a camp of 750 Cheyenne and Arapaho people was attacked by Col. John Chivington and the Third Colorado Cavalry. The Cavalry killed hundreds in the encampment - primarily elders, women, and children - and committed countless other atrocities during the massacre.
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In the days that followed, the troops responsible for the mass murder rode through the streets of Denver carrying body parts and stolen items, which were then displayed for years in Denver's City Hall. The loss of life at Sand Creek- including the killings of 13 Cheyenne chiefs, one Arapaho chief, and four Arapaho headmen - disrupted the passage of traditional knowledge and had a significant impact on Cheyenne and Arapaho cultural lifeways and social structures.

December also calls to mind the painful legacy of the Wounded Knee Massacre.

​Amid the Ghost Dance movement, broken treaties, and the assassination of Hunkpapa Lakota leader Sitting Bull by Indian Agency Police, Chief Spotted Elk and his band of Mniconjou Lakota sought refuge on the Pine Ridge Reservation in late December, 1890. The group were eventually  intercepted and escorted by US Army troops to camp at Wounded Knee Creek on December 28th. 

The next day, the Seventh Cavalry began to confiscate weapons from Spotted Elk’s band, and a gun was suddenly discharged. Soldiers then opened fire on the camp.  Several soldiers fired Hotchkiss guns indiscriminately on the encampment; others chased and hunted down Lakota women and children fleeing the scene. At least 300 Lakota men, women, and children were killed during the massacre, including Spotted Elk. 20 of the US soldiers involved were awarded the Medal of Honor for their roles in the killing. The medals have yet to be revoked by the federal government to this day.

We spoke to an elder from the Wounded Knee community this week about the 1890 massacre and its lasting impact. “My ancestors couldn’t comprehend it…I still can’t,” he said of the violence. His great-great grandfather was wounded during the massacre but survived after taking refuge in a nearby canyon.

“The massacre itself has a generational trauma effect, which I saw in my elders before they passed on.” He explained that the mass killing at Wounded Knee sowed discord in the community and led to the near destruction of the Lakota language. He also expressed that the massacre contributed to the boarding school system, with authorities employing tactics of abuse and assimilation against Indigenous children in an effort to destroy the possibility of future resistance. But amidst this traumatic legacy, the elder emphasized prayer and the hope for the future he sees in the children of the community. He asked that people remember the children in their prayers on December 29th, the 131st anniversary of the massacre.

Above all, he wants to ensure that Wounded Knee 1890 is never forgotten:
“Remember Cankpe Opi Wakpala 1890.”

​Additional resources on the Sand Creek Massacre, the Dakota 38 +2, and the 1890 Massacre at Wounded Knee listed below.