For the Hopi People, corn is not just a staple food - it is the very bedrock of their culture, their spirituality, their lives.​

Tradition dating back millennia maintains that the Guardian Spirit Màasaw gave each of the different Hopi clans a water gourd, a bag of corn kernels, a planting stick, and an ear of Blue Corn. It is through these gifts that Hopi culture - and the farming of the corn which sustains it -  flourishes to the present day.

Corn in its various forms plays an integral role in Hopi ceremonies. It is present at the birth of a Hopi child and is prepared ahead of every Hopi wedding - and its varied colors each represent one of the sacred directions. It is also the key feature of many Hopi traditional foods, including mutton stew and the blue cornmeal-based bread called Piki.

The techniques used to grow Hopi corn are sophisticated, formed in symbiotic relationship with the land over the course of thousands of years. Dry-farming is the preferred method: corn of red, blue, white, gray and yellow varieties thrives even in desert soil as rain and snowmelt naturally dampen the earth in the valleys beneath the Mesas, the traditional dwelling place of many Hopi. Dry farmers employ traditional knowledge encompassing disciplines such as engineering, hydrology, and agronomy to work in concert with the land and ensure a harvest capable of sustaining their communities physically and spiritually.

One such farmer is Clark Tenakhongva, a Hopi community leader with whom the Tipi Raisers have worked during recent service trips to the Hopi Reservation. Clark, a member of the Rabbit-Tobacco clan, grows several varieties of heirloom beans and corn on his farmland beneath the First and Second Mesas. See this Inside Climate News article in which Clark was featured in November 2022!

While last year’s harvest proved fruitful amidst an unusually wet monsoon season, Clark and other Hopi farmers have expressed heartache at the increased frequency of empty harvests since the onset of drought in the early 2000s. The drought continues to affect crop yield and, in turn, the Hopi way of life - Clark has likened an unsuccessful harvest to the loss of a child.
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Though environmental challenges and ongoing climate change have transformed the reality of farming in the Mesa Valleys, Clark and others continue to nurture their fields and provide their families and communities with the corn that is so critical to their traditional lifeways. 

In the Hopi Way - which is marked by a distinctly matrilineal societal structure - corn is owned by the woman of the house. Clark’s wife Ann thus owns and manages the family’s supply of corn, seeing to its drying and preservation at the end of each harvest. At the end of last month, Colorado volunteers Gary and Jim, tribal members from Pine Ridge, and a crew of other volunteers dubbed “the Jersey Boys” constructed a roof for the shed that houses Ann’s corn.

Working into the evening even amidst cold temperatures, the Jersey Boys and their crew made sure they didn’t leave Arizona without completing the roof! We are so grateful for their efforts, which will help ensure that the heirloom corn grown by Clark and preserved by Ann can stay dry and be used in traditional foods and ceremonies.

Gratitude to Clark and Ann Tenakhongva for sharing their knowledge and wisdom about corn and so much more with us during our visits to their community!

Additional resources on this topic listed below.

Resource Links​

On the Spiritual and Cultural Significance of Corn to the Hopi:

“People of the Corn: Teachings in Hopi Traditional Agriculture, Spirituality, and Sustainability” by Dennis Wall and Virgil Masayesva: 
https://www.jstor.org/stable/4138926

“The Heart of the Hopi” from American Indian Magazine: 
https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/heart-hopi

On Hopi Dry-Farming Practices and the Ongoing Southwest Drought:

“The Resiliency of Hopi Agriculture: 2000 Years of Planting” from the Arizona State Museum: 
https://youtu.be/28gAFESNGMU

“Corn Nourishes the Hopi Identity, but Climate-Driven Drought Is Stressing the Tribe’s Foods and Traditions,” an article from Inside Climate News featuring Clark Tenakhongva and his dry-farming methods:
https://insideclimatenews.org/news/27112022/corn-nourishes-the-hopi-identity-but-climate-driven-drought-is-stressing-the-tribes-foods-and-traditions/?fbclid=IwAR2ht66xo4z2XBf8eNgcdWsz_YEg9qoZ8aMQGvQApdRd_clFuKtnfLZTwn4
“'Everything depends on the corn': As crops wither, the Hopi fear for their way of life” from AZ Central: 
https://www.azcentral.com/in-depth/news/local/arizona-environment/2020/11/30/hopi-tribe-withering-corn-crops-show-impact-climate-change/5931561002/

Hopi Recipes Featuring Corn:

From Hopi Studio, a Hopi Food Blog: https://hopistudio.com/hopi-recipes

Resource for Teachers:
A Multidisciplinary lesson plan on Hopi farming and traditional lifeways, suitable for grades 5-12: 
https://www.nps.gov/articles/000/upload/TwHP-Lessons_156awatovi.pdf

The blizzard and following arctic blast slammed into Pine Ridge with particular vengeance last week – as it does somewhat regularly in South Dakota.  Bitter cold, driving winds and feet of snow wreak havoc and spare virtually no one, especially in a place where heat, comfort and shelter are in short supply to begin with.  This is one of the legacies of the reservation system.

My phone began ringing as soon as the arctic temperatures descended on the reservation. We put out a call to our local network for the supplies that were being requested and they quickly came in so my wife and I traveled up to Pine Ridge during the storm to distribute the food, water, space heaters and firewood.

At one point, as the temperatures had plunged well below zero, we reloaded the truck with a fresh supply of firewood, water and food and headed down a snow-covered road to a cabin in which a father, and his three children live in a cabin that likely dates back to the early 1900’s. When we rounded the last corner on the snowed-over rural road and down the final approach, I was disheartened to see that there was no smoke coming out of the stove pipe – I could only hope that the firewood had run out not too long ago and certainly not in the opening days of the arctic cold. I reluctantly approached the cabin door – fearing what I might find inside.  I was relieved when the man, whom I consider a brother, responded to my pounding on the weather-beaten wooden door.  “Hello?”, I heard him call from inside.  When I opened the door and ducked inside, my relief gave way to what I saw inside . . . . my breath in a tiny room only slightly warmer than the frigid outdoors by the lack of a wind chill, but still well below zero.  And my brother’s huddled body – leaning over a lifeless dog that was oddly covered by a flannel blanket literally tucked under its lower jaw as one might tuck a child into bed at night. The body was set in an old pink laundry basket and cradled by my brother’s grieving hands. 

There is no running water in the cabin and so, the night prior the dog had gone down to the creek to quench its thirst.  The drifts, wind and bitter temperatures had taken no mercy on this particular creature that night as it must have stepped through a snowbank and fallen into the creek, which in some cruel irony was not frozen over completely.  My brother did not know what had happened until he heard his dog whimpering outside the old cabin door after what must have been a virtually heroic struggle for survival to pull itself out of the ice water, through the snowbank, up the hill and to the door.  My brother told me of how he and his son had tried to save the dog’s life, but could not get enough warmth back into its struggling body . . . . given that the firewood had also run out that night and there was precious little heat available anywhere nearby.  And so, he had done all that he could do. . . .

We left the cabin that night, and the reservation the next morning . . . . as the bitter cold remained. We had run out of firewood also by then and the truck could not get through the drifts that towered and covered virtually all the roads on the 3,000 square mile reservation.  The calls continued to come in with requests for warmth, for food, for transportation to shuttle families to a safe place . . . . but we had had done all we could do. . . .

In the week since, I have thought often about my brother and his best friend that night. . .  . about how he and I aren’t that different . . . . and about how different we are.  I chose to leave the reservation that day when I had nothing else to give.  I drove home and distracted myself with all that my world offers me to distract myself with.  Again and again, I chose to shut out the haunting of the storm, the families, my brother and his dog’s death.  I have been grateful for the choice to leave it -- and those around me tell me that I have done what I can do. That I have given support where I could and that there comes a time to let go . . . .
But I think of my brother and his dog.  I imagine it is true that when he answered the whimper at his cabin door, that his dog might have looked up at him with the same plea for heat and comfort and life that those in desperate need in an arctic blast might look at me with a load of firewood and a large truck pushing through drifts.  And I know that my brother reached out, picked up his companion and did all that he could to breathe life back in – to provide heat and comfort and life.  We are the same that way.

But we are also different.  My brother had little choice but to stay . . . . and he did.  I don’t know this to be true, but I do believe it to be:  When the moment came that the little dog began to let go of the life that had been taken and there was no more heat left and nothing left to offer, my brother gave comfort with his prayer, the inadequate blanket, a hand on the lifeless body and whatever death song may have come at that time.  I also don’t know, but hope it’s true, that the dog felt that comfort.  Perhaps the death at that moment was painful.  Perhaps it was peaceful with the presence of another living being standing watch and witness.  But I do know that my brother stayed and gave the only thing he had left . . . . and, in so doing, gave me a gift for my life also. 

It is not uncommon for those who join us in our efforts to help those living in poverty to feel overwhelmed by the scope of problems endemic to reservations.  Some of those who join commit to a life of service, volunteerism or other efforts to help. For me, I know that my efforts are driven by both compassion and a resolve to never give up on those whom we are called to help.  But I also know resolve like that can be driven by fear of not having enough to give, or ultimately of not having the power to ease suffering.  The fear of not being able to push back suffering, of not having enough to provide at least some modicum of comfort is perhaps more terrifying to some than to actually face the suffering itself.  My brother’s bravery that night he heard the whimpering at the door – especially after he realized he could not ease – in any way -- what was to come, but to still stand in love and compassion – will remain a gift to me in its teaching that I hope to live into from here on.  To my brother, and to the beautiful dog that left that night, I stand in gratitude and awe.

In gratitude,

Dave

​A Colorado governor’s territorial decree led to the massacre of over 200 Cheyenne and Arapaho elders, women, and children in 1864. In 2022, efforts to remove his name from one of Colorado’s most famous peaks are sweeping the state.

In late July, Pope Francis met with government and tribal leaders in Canada to apologize for the role of members of the Catholic Church in the abuse committed against Indigenous children within the Canadian residential school system. ​

Amongst those gathered near Edmonton to hear the Pope’s words were residential school survivors, representing some of the over 150,000 First Nations, Métis, and Inuit children who were taken from their homes between the late 18th century and the 1970s and placed into assimilationist government and church-run schools. Severe abuse was rampant in the schools, as were policies deliberately aimed at wiping out Indigenous languages and traditional ways.

Reactions to the apology amongst Indigenous leaders and residential school survivors were mixed: While some described the apology as an important and necessary step in the healing journey for survivors of residential school abuse, others noted the absence of concrete steps being taken by the Catholic Church to unseal documents related to this history and to invest in forming relationships with Native communities in Canada.

Many also emphasized the failure of the papal apology to specifically name the Catholic Church as a perpetrator of residential school abuse and criticized the Pontiff for not taking the opportunity to revoke the Doctrine of Discovery, a concept established by the Catholic Church shortly after Columbus’ arrival to the Western hemisphere that was subsequently used to justify the widespread seizure of Indigenous lands. 

The Doctrine, born out of several papal bulls issued by Pope Alexander VI in the late 15th century, is a legal principle under which European conquerors claimed a right to annex land on the basis of discovery. The principle was even applied to the “discovery” of territories already inhabited by other nations - so long as the inhabitants were not Christian. Within a few years of the Doctrine’s establishment and the arrival of Europeans to the Western Hemisphere, 50% of the Native population of the Americas had died due to violence and disease. And in the five centuries since, Indigenous peoples have been subject to ongoing loss of land and culture stemming from the legal invocation of the Doctrine of Discovery across their traditional territories.

In addition to its role in a staggering loss of Indigenous lands, what the Doctrine did more indirectly was to feed into a grim narrative that conquerors - not the original peoples of a given land - somehow have a monopoly on culture, civilization and the authority to govern. As the Doctrine of Discovery was compounded by continued imperialism over Native peoples in the Americas, this mode of conceptualizing and actualizing the new society that began to take shape in the Western Hemisphere created an environment in which Native cultural lifeways and traditions were devalued in favor of European ideals - setting the gruesome stage for the establishment of residential schools and the suffering inflicted on the Indigenous children forced to attend them.

Several Christian denominations have formally denounced the Doctrine of Discovery in recent years, and in the wake of Pope Francis’ visit to Canada, Indigenous leaders are calling on the Pope to officially rescind the Doctrine himself. Activists are hoping that deeper efforts towards justice for residential school survivors on behalf of the Catholic Church will continue to take shape.​

Additional resources on this topic listed below.

A few weeks ago, riders, speakers, visitors and families from Pine Ridge, Wind River, Dine/Navajo, Arapaho, Shoshone, Florida, Houston, Puerto Rico and Denver gathered for four days in Sedalia, CO.  A camp was set up, riders on horseback rode in each day from the four directions and lessons were learned . . . . . as they always are when we come together in this way.

Lesson #1: We all are better when there is diversity in our camp/gatherings/communities – diverse in ages, genders, backgrounds, races, cultural and religious traditions.

Lesson #2: There is wisdom from all directions. No one owns the Sacred. Possesses the feather. The drumbeat. The horse. Indigenous wisdom is rooted in lessons from elders (and youth) from tribes, clans, traditions, religions, and cultures from all over the world. We are stronger as a human species when wisdom, traditions and culture from all directions is shared, welcomed and embraced.

Lesson #4: Iktomi (the spider), the Coyote and the Trickster are often present in camp amidst these sorts of gatherings. They usually make an appearance and often times interact with those already teetering on the edge. The dance with the Trickster is one of opportunity, but also danger.

Lesson #5: Trauma is also very often present in these sorts of camps and gatherings. Of course, it is -- given our shared history and humanity. Iktomi and coyote are drawn to those carrying the trauma most intensely and so, one need not look far to see, hear and feel the injury of the past gather around the fire.

Lesson #6: This is generational work: Alleviating poverty. Reconciliation. Indigenous wisdom. It’s complicated; the way forward riddled with mistrust, trauma, pain and complexity.  It requires careful thought, intention, persistence and resilience.

Lesson #7: True reconciliation of harm done requires careful, deliberate and persistent effort. And the ability to forgive . . . . Basil Brave Heart teaches us that forgiveness is only possible by looking at the Divinity within. It's also true that efforts to help cannot be fueled by guilt, pity or a "feeling sorry for."

And so, we live in daily gratitude for those who walk and ride with us.  Who travel, stay and visit with us at these sorts of gatherings. And for those who have supported this work for so many years.

Wopila.
Dave

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!