PRESS & MEDIA |
PRESS & MEDIA |
This is the story of how a group of New England volunteers spent their summer honoring the Spirits of a dilapidated cemetery on the Navajo Nation. At The Tipi Raisers, we are lucky to meet so many people willing to go above and beyond the call for service, compassion, and action in the Native communities we serve. One such group of people are our friends from Unlimited Possibilities (UP): Back in May, 20 volunteers from Unlimited Possibilities, a New England-based nonprofit who work across the world to eliminate social injustices, joined us for a week of service on the Hopi & Navajo Nations. During their trip, the group repaired a fence protecting a cemetery on the Navajo Nation in which hundreds of Diné people are buried. Children, grandmothers, veterans and even a Navajo Codetalker rest beneath the desert earth in this sacred space at a 100-year-old church. Spiritual beliefs vary across the Native communities we serve, and even amidst an often difficult history between Christian churches and Indigenous peoples, many families in the local area have long-standing connections to this church and have chosen to lay their loved ones to rest in the stunning high-desert cemetery on site. This project was conducted by our crew at the request of local Diné community leaders and families. Many from the UP volunteer crew developed a special connection to the site, sitting in meditation and reverence at the rocks which line the area, and feeling the Spirit of the place wash over them. The crew, who dubbed themselves "The Graveyard Shift," noticed that dozens of gravemarkers at the site had been damaged in the years before the fence was reconstructed. They then took it upon themselves to create an inventory of damaged graves and names of the deceased. And so began a cross-country relay of love to make sure that those who rest in this Diné cemetery were remembered, honored, given the dignity their gravesites deserve. Throughout the summer, this always kind, always joyful crew met up in New Hampshire to lovingly construct new gravemarkers for the site. Early last week, a volunteer from Unlimited Possibilities landed at the Denver Airport with all 50 crosses in tow. He flew across the country just to deliver the gravemarkers! The volunteer headed back home to the East Coast only a few hours after handing off the packaged gravemarkers to local volunteer Bruce, ahead of our Labor Day weekend trip back south. On Labor Day weekend, with the new crosses, volunteers from Washington D.C. got to work beautifying the cemetery. As the gravemarkers were installed, a calm washed over the group. The cemetery had become, for them, a place not of sadness nor despair, but one of peace, celebration of life, and beauty - a word often uttered by our Diné friends as "Hózhó ."
What a gift to watch helping hands reach across the country to ensure that those who find their rest in this sacred site are honored. Thank you to UP and to all who go above and beyond for the Native communities we serve, to all who participate in the relay of love that keeps this work in motion. In gratitude, Mackenzie and The Tipi Raisers Team
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Edgar Mitchell, an astronaut on Apollo 14, described what has come to be known as the “Overview Effect” – the experience that astronauts commonly feel when they see the Earth from space. Mitchell said the following:
“You develop an instant global consciousness, a people orientation, an intense dissatisfaction with the state of the world, and a compulsion to do something about it.” From out there on the moon, international politics look so petty. You want to grab a politician by the scruff of the neck and drag him a quarter of a million miles out and say, ‘Look at that, you son of a bitch.’” Ron Garan, who spent six months on the International Space Station in 2011 also shared his perspective: "I looked down at the Earth — this stunning, fragile oasis, this island that has been given to us, and that has protected all life from the harshness of space — a sadness came over me, and I was hit in the gut with an undeniable, sobering contradiction. In spite of the overwhelming beauty of this scene, serious inequity exists on the apparent paradise we have been given. I couldn't help thinking of the nearly one billion people who don't have clean water to drink, the countless number who go to bed hungry every night, the social injustice, conflicts, and poverty that remain pervasive across the planet. Seeing Earth from this vantage point gave me a unique perspective — something I've come to call the orbital perspective. Part of this is the realization that we are all traveling together on the planet and that if we all looked at the world from that perspective, we would see that nothing is impossible." Basil Brave Heart similarly marvels at his grandmother who was raised during the Wounded Knee massacre in 1890. She would teach him to forgive the soldiers (“They did not know what they were doing.”) – offering singular compassion and love of humanity even in its most horrible manifestation – and speaking from the same place of love that Jesus is recorded to have spoken from before his crucifixion (“Father, forgive them. For they don’t know what they are doing.” – Luke 23:24). Basil often continues to share his grandmother’s teachings that so closely mirror quantum physics and the freshly discovered science from modern man’s travels into space. “How did she know that?!”, he regularly exclaims. That we are all traveling on the same planet. And that we are all related and connected to each other – and that our survival is inextricably connected to the realization that we are hurling through space together on a planet that holds the possibility of both magical beauty and tragic self-destruction. Many of us returned to our homes from the Indigenous Wisdom Gathering and Four Directions Ride just over a week ago. A community of over 50 – young and old – gathering in a camp to eat, work, pray, celebrate, enjoy each other’s company, ride horses, learn, teach, etc. together. The way communities used to do. Several hundred people gathering throughout the weekend to listen to a half dozen presentations on the horse culture, reconciliation, the Spiritual background of Indigenous song, dance and drumming and so many other Indigenous teachings. Almost 20 riders taking their horses out of the valley and into the mountain tops above while contemplating the diversity, inequality, suffering and privilege of riders from Four Directions and worlds away and apart – but connected -- riding together. One group of youth riders were from a place and home without electricity, stove, air conditioner, fan and few, if any, opportunities. The other group were from a valley of millionaires and 5,000 plus square foot homes. The view on the ground that weekend, if one was willing to look at it, was one of gross and unjustifiable inequality as well as immoral prejudice. The view from space, however, was and is, far more forgiving, exceedingly hopeful and offers a pathway through. Indeed, there is no need to drag the son of a bitch out to space. Only to look deeply into the beauty and possibility of what is right in front of us. We are all related and connected. What happens to our neighbor, brother, niece, grandmother, et. al. happens to each of us. Simple acts of compassion, kindness and generosity are carried forward and magnificently amplified almost always far beyond even their original intention. For those of you who came together to support the camp and the gathering last weekend – who provided your homes, transportation, a meal, volunteer labor and time, financial support, shared our stories and requests to your communities --- we thank you. I know this to be true: It was not only the young people who traveled from the reservation to participate in the gathering that took home the best of humanity and its ability to spread and change the planet . . . those acts of kindness and love spread throughout the valley and well beyond. Wopila – mitakuye oasin Dave As you may know, our home garden initiative on the Pine Ridge Reservation is entering its fourth year. On paper, a dozen vegetable gardens at homes on the reservation might seem like a small, perhaps insignificant effort in the face of deep poverty, food insecurity, and ongoing dispossession. But when you look at the bigger picture, the generational, from-the-ground-up nature of this work, perhaps a dozen gardens are part of a shift towards sustainability, food sovereignty, and a future of abundance for Native communities working hard to transform the challenging circumstances surrounding them. Here are three ways we’ve been reminded recently of the powerful transformation that can come from these little steps towards a better future: 1. A message from a Lakota mother illustrating the ripple effects of a single garden: “Look, I gave away my first vegetable bag. The lady loved it.” This text (along with the photo below) was sent to us by a Lakota mother of four and Tipi Raisers Tokala last week. Alongside her husband, she has been harvesting potatoes, onions and more from the garden she and her family planted with our team. The harvest has been abundant - providing enough yield for her to share with elders in her community throughout the growing season. 2. A beautiful lesson on the science and Indigenous wisdom that help these gardens grow: Another truck full of buffalo manure, provided by our partners at the Laramie Foothills Bison Conservation Herd at CSU, is soon to be delivered to the gardens of families we serve on Pine Ridge. Our friends from Common Name Farm, who lead our garden initiative, have noted that the use of this fertilizer restores, in a small way, a balance to the Great Plains ecosystems devastated by the government-orchestrated herd slaughters a century ago. The farmers have also observed that plants fertilized with the buffalo manure grow taller, stronger, and faster than those fertilized by store-bought fertilizer - a testament to the symbiotic relationship between the Buffalo, the plant beings, and the sacred lands of the Lakota and other Plains Tribes. 3. A snapshot of the intergenerational, cross-cultural collaboration that sows the seeds of change: In June, longtime volunteer Joe worked alongside Gen7 youth on Pine Ridge to plant and tend to home gardens. Joe and the young man in this photo represent the connection and healing that can take place when youth and adult mentors, Native and non-Native, remain committed to coming back again and again in a spirit of reconciliation. Our work is comprised of small acts; youth planting gardens, volunteers packing monthly food boxes, youth chopping firewood, communities reconnecting to the buffalo - but when we stay committed to these little steps toward change, the small things become the big things.
Thank you for walking this road with us. The village of Sitsomovi is one of a small cluster of villages on First Mesa, perched 300 feet above the valley floor – a place where people have made their very humble homes for over 1,000 years – perhaps longer. Families still live in mud and adobe homes – some now fortified by cinder block walls. Some with running water, many without. And most inhabited by descendants of the Hopi people who first farmed, hunted and dwelled in this area prior to the Spanish who came to dwell here also – and who did so through attempts to convert and conquer. A group of us traveled there last week to offer our help – planting corn, chopping firewood, repairing and rebuilding homes, painting an old schoolhouse to protect it’s siding from the damages of the desert sun and doing our best to restore a hundred-year-old cemetery giving rest to scores of young native students buried amongst their veteran relatives and community members. And then we met Orion. An 18-month-old living under a roof that barely provided shade, never mind cover from the rains and snows that come to this land even as it is a scorching desert for much of the year. A beautiful Hopi-born girl, raised of this land. Brimming with the lessons coming purely from an 18-month-old and also from being born into a community that remembers and lives in the way that they do. The Hopi are a matriarchal society -- Orion will inherit the centuries-old home when it is her turn. As her mother did. And her grandmother did. As did her great grandmothers extending back in time for centuries. The current roof had only been put on less than 50 years ago – beaten and collapsing under the weight of a hundred bodies and feet that run across it, stomp on it and even fall through it as they peer down at the ceremonies that take place in the plaza below throughout the year. The new one that the volunteers labored over in intense heat and under less than ideal construction circumstances, will last less than 50 years given the conditions. Initially, the volunteer crew stood on the collapsed roof, looking around at the many other collapsed and failing roofs around the village and wondered what they were being asked to do. A drop in the bucket. And a band aid that would not remain waterproof in a decade or two, if we were lucky. And then they looked down at beautiful Orion’s smiling eyes – and they knew. Orion reminded them every morning as she ran out the door to greet them. And again, when her mother carefully brought her up the ladder to survey her new roof and she stomped and squealed in delight at what had been built in just a few days. Orion’s unconditional love of this new invasion of strangers reminded us all. As did her delight, pure love and ability to energize a crew of teenagers, elders and those in between to sweat and toil way beyond what was being asked for or expected. Orion moved us all to realize: That real change is possible on the reservations. That transformative change is possible. When we look back at what was accomplished: the roof, firewood, gardens, new plumbing, a new “tiny home”, school painted. Not half of that was possible given the limited time, the mixed skill level of volunteers, the lack of financial resources and adequate building materials or tools. But it happened. It clearly happened. When we hear about the power of love and community and service to others, we know now what those all make possible.
As seen through Orion’s eyes. -- Dave In the 17th century village of First Mesa, a Hopi family struggled to stay dry under a badly damaged roof. For months, each rainstorm brought with it a stream of water into their home, seeping through the cracks and soft spots in their worn-out roof. The damage was extensive, but their resources, like so many in the Native communities we serve, had left them unable to afford the necessary repairs.
During a fateful volunteer service trip last year, we were approached by this family when Tipi Raiser’s volunteers from the National Community Church in DC were busy repairing their neighbor’s roof. Our volunteers rallied together, determined to make a difference. With makeshift materials and unwavering resolve, they spent their final half-day sealing the family's roof with layers of plastic sheeting, staples, and weights, taking extra care to mark the soft spots and ensure safety. It was a day filled with camaraderie and purpose, as the crew poured their hearts into the task at hand. And as they bid farewell to the community, they left with a renewed sense of hope and solidarity. Now, nearly a year later, another group of volunteers is heading to First Mesa to provide the family with a more permanent solution! These projects are made possible through the sweat equity, sheer determination and compassion of the volunteers who join us on reservation service trips. But YOU, too, can be a part of this story… as an invisible partner, you might not be able to join us up on the roof (this time), but your support can ensure our volunteers have the resources necessary to continue to get the job done! As of this writing we are almost halfway to our goal of raising $7,500 by May 27th. For those who have already contributed, we offer our deep and heartfelt gratitude, and for those who haven't yet given - and are in a position to do so - your donation will be greatly appreciated! Over the past few months, we’ve had the great privilege of working side-by-side with Isaac, a remarkable young leader and student currently reconnecting with his Indigenous heritage. He is at the forefront of his school's efforts to split firewood for the communities we serve on Pine Ridge, and has been a huge help in moving our programs forward as a Gen7 intern this year! Here are his reflections on service, reconnection, and leadership: “My name is Isaac, I am currently a senior at the Rocky Mountain School of Expeditionary Learning or RMSEL for short, I am of Indigenous descent with no knowledge of what tribe I come from seeking to reconnect myself to the culture and people of Turtle Island. I came to hear about this cool nonprofit organization who worked with Indigenous peoples called The Tipi Raisers from my science teacher Eric Dinkel. He mentioned how RMSEL used to do some activities and services with Tipi Raisers but that connection was lost due to the pandemic. So Eric asked me if I could get that started back up, so I did. I contacted Dave shortly after and asked him what we could do to help. Firewood is always in need on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, so we started there. It started off as a small operation behind the school playground. We had a few deliveries of uncut wood and we borrowed and bought some mauls and axes and a chainsaw. A few other high schoolers started cutting wood with me and Eric who have been very hardworking, seeking to help a community that they most likely wouldn’t have unless RMSEL and the Tipi Raisers gave the opportunity. “I got into wood chopping cause I wanted to help a community I otherwise would never have interacted with and RMSEL afforded me that opportunity. I’ve gained a community of students I don’t normally interact with, and a continued desire to do more” -Senior Arwen Tompkins I’ve gained a great many skills with the axes and mauls we have obtained and continue to get stronger and able to cut wood faster. Now the once small operation has grown to about 30 high schoolers and volunteering adults, we have produced about 20 cords of firewood from chopping wood every Monday after school. A group of wood chopping students have been able to go up to Pine Ridge and do service up there and be able to meet some of the people we’ve been helping since September. Both trips have been incredible eye opening experiences and hopefully the operation continues at RMSEL even after myself and other seniors graduate. This whole thing is awesome, seeing what the works of few can grow into to help those in need and I am grateful to Dave and the Tipi Raisers for giving us the opportunity to help out.” Thank you, Isaac, for all your hard work and leadership! You set a powerful example for other young people seeking to make a change in their communities. As we gear up for the Indigenous Wisdom Gathering & 4 Directions Ride this summer, we will be highlighting the Gen7 Youth Program through stories like Isaac's. Like all of our year-round activities, the Gathering is centered on youth and their role as the leaders and wisdom-keepers of the next generation.
We want to ensure that as many youth as possible, including Indigenous youth, can take part in the Gathering from June 28 - July 1 in Eagle, CO and all of our events throughout the year - but we can only do so with your help. Your donation today will help cover the cost of transport, lodging, and leadership opportunities for youth at the Indigenous Wisdom Gathering and beyond. We would be so grateful for your support! Last week, we hosted a “Nagi Circle” in which tribal members, and those from communities living off the reservations, gathered at the request of an elder from Pine Ridge to honor and support a brave young Lakota boy. As violence erupted in his community, this eight-year-old boy had the courage to shepherd the younger children into a bathroom, hide them in a bathtub and cover them with a blanket while chaos swirled all around them.
Guests and participants in the circle last week were invited to support the boy through words of encouragement, prayers and offers of tangible help. The Tipi Raisers and tribal members who collaborated to support this youngster will remain steadfast in our commitment to standing with him – and with the others to whom we have pledged help. We will do so having learned the following lessons, after well over a decade of working with our partners and friends the Pine Ridge reservation:
- Dave We recently spoke with Rapid City, SD-based artist Joe Pulliam ahead of his visit to our Lafayette, CO Hub on March 9th for next month’s Nagi Circle Gathering. Read on to learn about the powerful experiences and Lakota identity that inform his art: Watercolor on ledger paper, Joe Pulliam 2017 As a child and young adult, Joe Pulliam underwent hardships deeply rooted in colonization and ongoing generational trauma - but through a journey into traditional Lakota ways, ledger art, and the #NoDAPL movement at Standing Rock, he has carved out a unique path as an artist and advocate. Born on the Pine Ridge Reservation, Joe was impacted at a young age by a number of the challenges facing Indigenous Peoples. His family was sent to St. Paul, Minnesota in the 1970s as part of the Bureau of Indian Affairs’ relocation program before eventually returning to Pine Ridge, and he describes his upbringing as one that took place within an alcoholic family. Over 100,000 Indigenous people were relocated by the BIA to urban areas between 1952 and 1972, in a bid by the federal government to make reservations and tribes obsolete (APM Reports, 2019). Hard alcohol was originally introduced to Indigenous communities by European settlers in an effort to establish a market demand for the substance, and to gain the upper hand during land and trade negotiations with tribes (National Institute of Health, 1998). Alongside the challenges of Joe’s youth, however, sat a budding interest in art. After three years of service in the US Army, he entered graphic design school and studied at the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He began to explore the medium of ledger art - a style which first appeared in the 19th-century, when warriors of the Plains tribes would record important events through visuals painted or drawn onto the pages of the US Army ledgers they had seized. During this same period of artistic discovery, Joe was battling a severe addiction to alcohol and the psychological effects of trauma. “I was dealing with anger, guilt, and PTSD,” he shared. Still, he persevered, working to hone his painting and design skills, raising two children on his own, and making a living selling art to tourists in the town of Pine Ridge. The Oceti Sakowin Camp at Standing Rock, pictured in 2016 during a Tipi Raisers visit to deliver firewood to demonstrators. In April 2016, Native youth and elders began to gather along the Cannonball River on the Standing Rock Reservation to pray - for the earth, for future generations, and for a stop to the planned construction of a pipeline through sacred Lakota lands and waterways. As the camp at Standing Rock and the #NoDAPL demonstrations grew, Joe was inspired to head north and join the movement. Still struggling with alcohol addiction, he was immediately taken in by the grandmothers at the camp. Amidst tense interactions with heavily armed private law enforcement, a tactical, warlike environment enveloped the camp. This atmosphere triggered some of Joe’s memories of military service - but the grandmothers kept him grounded, sharing traditional teachings with him: “Standing Rock gave me a sense of what my true identity is as a Lakota Wiċasa (man). It blew away the stereotypes and misinformation we hear, even growing up on the Rez. I didn’t really know who I was until I went to Standing Rock.” His experience at Standing Rock was a profound one, stirring him to paint ledger art which recorded important events of the #NoDAPL movement in real time - just like the Lakota artist-warriors of old. “As a modern warrior, it’s my role to take on this role [of ledger artist] and carry it forward. It changed my whole life,” Joe shared. Camp Whiteclay Justice, 2017, pictured here during a service project with a Tipi Raisers volunteer group. Upon his return to Pine Ridge in 2017, Joe was sober, inspired, and determined to make a difference for his People. Modeled after the Standing Rock encampment, he established Camp Whiteclay Justice on the reservation’s border with Whiteclay - a Nebraska town established by white residents for the purpose of selling alcohol to Indigenous people. For nearly a year, Joe and fellow demonstrators from the Standing Rock Movement brought awareness to the issue of alcohol abuse and the Whiteclay businesses profiting from addiction on Pine Ridge. In late 2017, the Nebraska Supreme Court ruled against the businesses selling alcohol in Whiteclay, revoking the liquor licenses of all four local stores. Today, Joe continues to advocate for change through artistic expression. On his artistic ethos, Joe stated: “My art brings awareness to a lot of the injustice and current situations. I intended to use this traditional art form of ledger art to do the same thing the original ledger artists were doing - to preserve history and culture.” Alongside a non-Native business partner, he plans to open a gallery in downtown Rapid City, SD that will highlight the work of both Native and non-Native artists within a shared space: “It will be an example of Natives and non-Natives working together through art to bring about a better cultural understanding and reconciliation." Joe Pulliam chatting with local attendees of last year's Indigenous Wisdom Gathering in Eagle, CO A cross-cultural partnership such as this is somewhat uncommon in Rapid City, a town in which Indigenous people still face rampant discrimination. In celebrating contemporary art across lines of difference, Joe hopes the gallery will bridge cultural gaps and challenge prejudice in the local community: “There's a need to see our people active in our community as businessmen or councilmembers, to break the stereotypes of the drunken Indian, the lazy Indian - especially here in Rapid City. It’s a challenge, but it’s something we can do.” His previous business, Tusweca Gallery, was housed in the old central bank of Rapid City, from which countless deeds for Indigenous lands were signed off to white settlers. We had the privilege of visiting the gallery in the summer of 2023; there was a deep poetic justice in witnessing the reclamation of the space by a Lakota artist, surrounded by empowering images of Native resilience and ledger art painted on the pages of century-old bank logs. In the face of ongoing challenges impacting the Lakota people - poverty, generational trauma, addiction and beyond - Joe continues to work towards institutional change and healing through art, and to build bridges across cultures and backgrounds: “That’s what my gallery is about: Natives and non-Natives can work together. That’s where the solutions are.” Joe will be joining us here at our Hub in Lafayette, CO next week for the March Nagi Circle Gathering, where he will share more about his art and story with attendees. His art will also be available for sale.
We invite you to join us for this free, all ages event on Saturday March 9th from 2pm-4pm. Additional details can be found HERE. In the 1991 film, Grand Canyon, starring Kevin Kline (who plays Mack), Danny Glover plays the role of Simon, an uncle, father, mentor, wizened cultural elder . . . and a tow truck driver who finds himself facing a gang leader with a gun while trying to do his job and tow Kevin Kline’s Lamborghini. Kline’s character, an immigration lawyer, had left a late-night Laker’s game in his car and is detoured from his normal route by traffic and a series of missed turns. As it happens, his car breaks down in a dangerous neighborhood patrolled by gangs. Knowing that he is lost and in trouble, he calls for help from the towing company . . . and from Simon, whom he had never met previously.
Simon arrives after the gang has arrived, after Mack had been forced out of his car and just before life was becoming visibly precious and precarious. Simon steps in between the gang leader and Mack . . . Simon: I've gotta ask you for a favor. Let me go my way here. This truck's my responsibility, and now that the car's hooked up to it, it's my responsibility too. Rocstar (the gang leader): Do you think I'm stupid? Simon: Look, I don't know nothing about you; you don't know nothing about me. I don't know if you're stupid, or some kind of genius. All I know is that I need to get out of here, and you got the gun. So I'm asking you, for the second time, let me go my way here. Rocstar: I'm gonna grant you that favor, and I'm gonna expect you to remember it if we ever meet again. But tell me this, are you asking me as a sign of respect, or are you asking because I've got the gun? Simon: Man, the world ain't supposed to work like this. I mean, maybe you don't know that yet. I'm supposed to be able to do my job without having to ask you if I can. That dude is supposed to be able to wait with his car without you ripping him off. Everything is supposed to be different than it is. I think of Simon’s words often in my role. I think of those words when the proud Lakota mother calls virtually every morning to see if she can earn money delivering firewood and food to her community. I think of those words when our 71-year-old firekeeper struggles under the weight of raising six children with less than $750/month. I think of those words when I hear the brothers share the stories of their sisters being groomed and bribed to leave their home and become prostitutes. Of how the FBI is aware of the sex ring, but ineffective this time (and so many others) to stop it. I think of it as I drive by the “Death to the Whiteman” painting in Whiteclay that welcomes, warns, and explains of the landscape ahead. The world is not supposed to work like this. Maybe none of us really know that anymore. Families are supposed to be warm, fed, and safe. Governments are supposed to be at least moderately able to ensure those same conditions. And to work with other entities responsible for the health and safety of the people they serve. In the midst of plenty, there should be (is) enough to feed, warm and keep safe our neighbors and relatives. Tragically, that is not the way the reservations are though. I am struck sometimes by how – despite our valiant army of volunteers; and intensely proud, hardworking tribal allies; and generous donors; and well-intentioned efforts – I am struck by how difficult it is to provide enough to ease the suffering. Last year, we had several of our long time Lakota friends from Pine Ridge join us on the Hopi and Diné reservations to volunteer rebuilding homes, cutting, and stacking firewood, etc. On one of the days, a group took a day off from the work to travel for the first time to the Grand Canyon – from South Dakota to one of the seven natural wonders of the world. That evening, in the circle as we processed our day, one of the Lakota men remarked how stunning the experience of standing on the south rim was . . . and how someday he hoped to bring youth from his reservation down to see what he saw and to experience what he experienced . . . He was inspired to someday release red balloons from the rim with his young people who are caught in a world that doesn’t have to be . . . and must change. In the movie, Simon asks Mack: You ever been to the Grand Canyon? It's pretty, but that's not the thing of it. You can sit on the edge of that big ol' thing and those rocks... the cliffs and rocks are so old... it took so long for that thing to get like that... and it ain't done either! It happens right there while you’re watching it. Its happening right now as we are sitting here in this ugly town. When you sit on the edge of that thing, you realize that our time here means diddly to those rocks. Just a split second we have been here, the whole lot of us. That's a piece of time so small to even get a name. Those rocks are laughing at me right now, me and my worries... Yeah, it’s real humorous, that Grand Canyon. And so, I take comfort in knowing that Simon and the rocks are right. Change is happening. Good and magnificent changes. For all of you who work alongside us in this slow, sometimes painful and frustrating, often tragic and but ultimately beautiful work, I share my heartfelt gratitude. Thank you. Wopila. Askwali. Kwakwhay. Ahéhee'. - Dave Last Friday night, the tipi was packed with the youth of the Seventh Generation. Lit up by campfire, dozens of young people sat together as they listened to the wise words of Lakota elder and founding Tipi Raisers board member Ta Oye Wakan Wiŋ (Her Words Are Sacred Woman). People of all ages and backgrounds repeated the sacred words Themíčʼiȟila, and Wakan Tanka. The sparks from the fire seemed to carry these words up and out into the sky. One can imagine similar scenes hundreds - perhaps thousands - of years ago, each time Lakota elders would gather with the next generation in a talking circle, sharing the vital wisdom that will carry them towards a balanced relationship with the land, and with one another. This age-old tradition seemed alive and well as we sat in the tipi together for the January Nagi Circle Gathering. And one does not have to look far to see the way youth continue, in the modern day, to bring communities into balance through connection and service: Half a dozen Lakota youth worked side-by-side with students from the Rocky Mountain School of Expeditionary Learning (RMSEL) as part of Friday's gathering to help prepare and transport firewood, blankets, space heaters, and needed supplies for families across the reservation. Check out the photo below of RMSEL students after a long day of work at our firewood distribution site on Pine Ridge, where they spent time with local elder, Tokala, and Keeper of the Firewood, Nobby Bell! Deepest gratitude to Ta Oye Wakan Wiŋ for sharing traditional teachings and insight into life on Pine Ridge with attendees of the Gathering, and to the Pine Ridge and RMSEL youth who helped ensure the arrival of needed items to the folks we serve on the reservation.
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July 2024
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