Monument Valley
Kayenta is one of the three largest Navajo towns in North West Arizona. James Nez is affiliated with Prescott College, and I was invited to stay on the reservation with his Mom, Lita, and Step-father, Rolland. The night I arrived, we sat by the fire. Cedar wood crackling, interrupting our words. Lita is Mexican, Navajo and Hopi, but grew up in Denver area, in the projects. She has owned businesses, worked for the school district, and is currently getting her masters in business online. An educated woman with diabetes. Rolland is a retired rodeo man. Good-looking older man with rarely a word to share. Speaks Navajo fluently, but is not interested in many of the ways. He likes his fire, his wife, his tv, strawberry shortcake, and his memories of childhood and rodeo. Before Rita, the longest relationship he was in lasted eight years before he became restless like a good cowboy man. But Independent Rita is always on the move. Working all day, and studying late night, she iss busy while Rolland has to stay at his place, which is a Bed and Breakfast. One thing to the next, lets her man do what he wants. And I think growing older, Rolland can hardly keep up with her. Thus, the roaming ceases, and the cowboy sits pining for his lady just how it should be. And I assert, with conviction, this is how 17 years of marriage has been sustained.
I spoke to them about my vision of what is going on with the Earth and the spiritual transformation and community initiatives that I hope to have a hand in during my life so that an abundant life with clean water and healthy food will be here for the generations to come. They agreed with all I had to say and we began a great respect for each other. The following day I went to lunch with Rolland, Lita, her sister, and mother. Darling, sweet, petite, and was born on the mesa nearby. After, we went to the flea market filled with beads, tools, fruits and vegetables, fry bread, kneel-down bread, and puppies for sale. I bought two pomegranates, traditional stir sticks, deer antlers made into beads, sea urchin spines (as beads but also grounded up and applied to open wounds of infection. Relieves pain and heals the sore), and some fresh cedar needles used for offering. I bought the cedar from a medicine man and woman. I was introduced. Their names are James, Anna, and their daughter is Bernice. They travel to local homes of Dine families who need treatment and healing. The use herbs and traditional ceremony. Anna explained to me what each of the plants was used for. Unfortunately, she did not know the plant names in English. Remedies for joint pain, allergies, and acne. The list goes on. I received their number in case I wanted a healing.
Rolland turns on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. I spent the holiday with Rolland and their neighbors. They were welcoming, and I was grateful to be included. I counted all by blessings. During the afternoon, I took on for Monument Valley. Rolland gives tours out there and knows all the ancient stories. I was a little disappointed he did not make the effort to take me. But he likes his tv best. Monument Valley is a gorgeous, powerful place. I did not find it so much a place of vortecies, but more of presence, motivation, and wisdom. My experience there fell into the context of my sharing with Rolland’s son, Chris. And it was an important place of transformation, particularly for Chris, who used to come there with Rolland and his tours as a kid. The photos I post, I will let speak for themselves. I feel that the site is not properly acknowledged anymore. I found the wisdom deep in the rock, hibernating.
I do not feel to write much about this aspect of the journey. I experienced the Dine people of this area to be caught in the the lethargy of de-motivation, lack of economic opportunity, little knowledge about health, with jealousy floating in air, and suffocation from governmental control and personal unconsciousness. Within a two and a half day period, I felt the cloud of hopelessness loom over me. Spiritually dehydrated. My life path, so clear and joyful, became a fearful, impossible feat, without anywhere to turn for possibilities to manifest. I was astonished and disheartened by the power of disempowerment and depression that weighed heavy over the ancestral land and its people. The predominating lesson was about the practical projects that must be created for the youth to bring up the happiness, the inspiration, the ingenuity, and creative opportunities that do not involve drugs or alcohol. As Chris and I drove back to Kayenta, he pointed at a large monument and mentioned how they used to have big parties there since alcohol is contraband on Navajo land. I kindly felt to decline when he said he would take me out there. He said, “Yeah, you probably don’t want to see all the cans of beer trashed over there.” Broke my heart to hear about such disrespect for the ancestral Dinetah. This is why the wisdom deep in the rock is hibernating.
Enjoy the magnificence.
The Elephant
The Three Sisters
You have such interesting insight into the land. I like the Three Sisters :)
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