Ceremonies of Reparation: Ceremony #6
Ceremonies of Reparation
For those interested in the
background of these ceremonies, please refer to the September 8, 2021 blog
entry.
Ceremony #6, Jan. 31, 2022
BACKGROUND
The land in which Ceremony #6
took place is located in Maple Bay, at the far tip of Kwa'mutsun Xastu -- Quamichan Lake. We moved there after living at Stoltz campground for several weeks, not
knowing where we would land after leaving Glenora Creek area (see Ceremony #3). The property owner in Maple Bay had invited
us to join him and help with farming. We
set up a tent in the mid-point of the 115-acre property, in an open area at the
top of a hill, surrounded by forest. We
had purchased a Mongolian yurt and were awaiting its delivery. We had approached the owner for a formal
lease, which he did not provide. We decided
to trust that all would be alright.
The first day of camping on
this land, we observed a great-horned Owlet.
It was recently out of the nest, and unable to fly. Hopping from stump
to branch, inching along the length of the branch, it looked like easy prey for
anything that wanted to hunt it. The
grey fluff ball let out a “baby” cry, and mamma owl swooped to meet him at the
branch. His cry became faster and more
frantic when he saw mamma near him.
After feeding, he quieted for a time, and then resumed his rhythmic cry.
I worried about this little-one
in our midst, and eagerly sought a view of him the next day. Finding him near the original stump, I
checked in on him often, keeping a respectful distance so as neither to spook
him nor alarm mamma owl. Day in and day
out, we learned the language of the owls and watched as he grew and matured.
One day, while my family was
on a different part of the land, I went to our tenting site to begin
preparation of dinner. As I worked in
the outdoor kitchen, I could feel myself being watched. I looked over my shoulder as teen-owl flew
from the periphery of the forest to sit very intentionally on a branch only 10
feet above me. I bobbed my head in
greeting, and he responded by doing the same.
Then, he shocked me. He looked
directly into my eyes as he lowered his head slightly and uttered his first
adult-words to me.
“Who-hoo-hoo…..(pause) Hoo?” I felt so incredibly honoured – he was so
intentional and purposeful, wanting to share his first adult-utterances with
me.
In all, we tented for 6
months. Rising with sun, sleeping with
dark, cooking in the outdoor “kitchen…”
No electricity, no running water, and an outhouse… It was incredibly enlivening. I felt at-home in myself. I felt healthy.
The outdoors became my home in
a way I had neither accessed nor relied on before. The land spoke more clearly and loudly than I
had ever experienced. Simple attunement
to the rhythms of day and night and the lack of electrical input in my daily
life had a profound effect on both my well-being and my sense of place.
During my wanderings in the
forest and on the land, I encountered several vines of Ma Honeysuckle – some
older, and some younger. They greeted
and accepted me and continued the teachings that their counterparts had started
during my time in Tsartlip territory.
The trees of the forest felt sad and withdrawn. The forest floor was riddled with countless
large and old trees that had been cut 2 years previous by the property owner,
who had the intention of selling some as firewood, and milling the rest for a
renovation project. However, the cut
trees remained on the forest floor, rotting.
I would not be able to easily estimate the loss of trees on the entire
acreage. The destruction was immense. The entire 115 acres had seen incredible
damage. Forest had previously been
removed to make way for fields. Earth
had been dug into to lay irrigation systems throughout each and every
field. Blueberries had been planted,
neglected, and died. Walnut trees had
been planted, neglected, and died or not thrived. Rather than relating to land, trees and
inhabitants of the land, they were seen as “resource” – useful commodities at
best, and disposable nuisances at worst.
The colonization and genocide of the peoples of these unceded lands was
summarized in this one “property.” We
wondered if it would be possible to bring prayer, ceremony and a healing
relationship to this land? Would our
intentions and footsteps here be helpful, or would we consciously and
unconsciously partake in “more of the same?”
This dissonance was actually
the beginning of the end of our time here, though it would not fully come to
pass for another 2 years.
Pause… Breathe…
When the yurt arrived in month
4, the property owner was uncertain where he wanted us to set up, so we
continued to tent. Once the location was
determined, we faced a new challenge – constructing a level platform with a circular
rim that rose up from the platform surface by 8 inches (>>needed for setting
up the yurt properly) was something neither of us had any experience or skill in. My younger son “rescued” us by taking 2
months to tent with us, designing a system of interlocking, easy-to-construct
floor-pieces, and then helping us to put them together.
In setting up the yurt, we
followed recommended traditions for directions the doors faced, location of the
hearth and other details. Because of our
lack of yurt-building skill, we used construction glue instead of marine
sealant along the floor rim, which inevitably led to multiple leaks along the
floor during our first winter. When the
leaks first began, puddles of water pooled on the floor and wicked up the
wool-walls inside our home. I felt panicked and overwhelmed – powerless against
the forces of nature.
Then something shifted.
We began to observe that the
leaks would show up in times of vulnerability in our family. And, more so, the locations of the leaks
would often show up beside the sleeping-place of the person experiencing
difficulty or indicate the general issues at-hand (front door = difficult relations
with other people on the land; back door = money troubles; art-table =
challenges selling our wares; etc.).
Water became a divinatory tool. I
felt less powerless and actually became grateful for the elemental “heads up.”
Then, one night, a new elemental
language arose. My husband had been frustrated
with my slowness that day. I was on my
moon, had a flu, and had extreme nerve pain in my arms. Chores were excruciating. He decided to walk out and visit the local
pub without letting me know that he was going.
I finished making dinner, looked for him in the gardens, and discovered
he was no where to be found. I grew
increasingly angry, feeling misunderstood and unacknowledged. When he walked in the door late that evening
in a chatty and happy mood, I turned to him with the fullness of my anger. As fury flew from my mouth, a fire erupted in
the flue of the woodstove – flames danced out of each joint along the length of
the flue inside the yurt, and sparks cascaded onto the outer canvas. My anger gave way to panic of a different
kind, and as my mood shifted, the flames receded. The yurt very clearly had its own spirit and
spoke to us ruthlessly and relentlessly through the elementals and through our
dreams.
The property owner spent days
and weeks away from the land for his work.
He would not tell us when he would be leaving, nor when he would be
returning home. However, we began to
notice another trend. A few days before
his return, we would each begin to have violent dreams. Simultaneously, the farm animals would either
become restless and escape their paddocks, or the birds we were raising would
be attacked by eagles or mink. Wasps
would begin to appear inside the yurt or near the doorways. Even in the middle of winter. Because the wasps in winter were so unexpected
and unusual, we began to associate them – in particular – with the property
owner.
During our second autumn on
the land, my grandson was born 3 months prematurely. Within his first month of life, he had experienced
two brain surgeries and one abdominal surgery.
Being so far away from my grandson, I decided to make a ladanka for him,
along with a ladanka for each of his parents (my eldest son and his
then-partner). Ladanky (plural) are neck
worn satchels that contain prayers or spells, along with items such as: soil;
gemstones; dried herbs, roots, berries or resins; fur, bones, teeth or claws;
and anything else that is intended to empower the prayers/ spells and act as
medicine for the wearer. While making
the ladanky for the parents, I felt clear and connected. When I made the ladanka for my grandson, however,
I immediately came down with what seemed to be a flu which lasted only for the
duration of making the satchel. As soon
as I was complete, all symptoms cleared.
I wondered if I did something “wrong?”
I approached elder and
medicine woman Della Rice Sylvester, requesting her guidance. I explained my
experience and asked my question. She
reassured me that making the ladanka had connected me to my grandson in a way
that I was “taking on” some of his illness for him and explained the importance
of keeping my energy and space “clear” any time I make medicine.
I felt so grateful for Della’s
help. It was the beginning of a very
important set of relationships in my life, with Della and her sister CJ.
It was around this time that
we noticed trees in the back forest began jumping out of the ground,
literally. Each time we walked the back
forest, more and more trees would be uprooted, and the sense was that they were
committing suicide, lamenting the loss of their companions, no longer connected
through the mycelium and root systems.
At the same time, the property owner began to have load after load of
stone dropped off to one of the fields and to the roadway he was constructing
through the wetlands that separated the back forest from the forest where we
had tented. With the frequency of dump-trucks
coming through, and the relative proximity of where they must have been
arriving from, we figured that the stone was blasted from a development happening
in the nearby hills.
For all of my prayers and
ceremonies, I could hear and feel that my energy could only go “so deep” – that
the trees and land wanted to hear from someone whose roots go much deeper than
anything I could ever provide – someone who belongs to these lands.
I once again approached Della
and asked if she would be willing to do some prayer work on the land. Together we walked, she sang and sounded, and
we felt the trees and land. We made
offerings and prayers together, spoke of the land, spoke about personal experiences. When we arrived at the stones, she prayed for
the stone people, displaced from their home, and a new layer of awareness
entered our hearts and prayers. It was
powerful and healing.
And it brought forward so many
complex thoughts. I began to ponder the
rooting of one’s medicine in a land where we are guests – ideas that would
germinate, ruminate and develop into the seeds for books, art, and other lived-projects.
Shortly following Della’s
visit, my husband began to work with a Maestro from Mexico, who came to visit 2
times per year. After sitting in
ceremony with this Maestro, the property owner called my husband to a meeting. We were being asked to leave. The property owner was selling the land and
we needed to leave before any sale went through.
Sometimes the things that
bring healing or growth arrive with “flowers” and joy. And sometimes the things that bring healing
and growth arrive as what I call “backwards medicine.” My heart felt crushed with the news.
I began to pray daily for the land,
as well as the property owner. I prayed a
simple prayer I had been taught by one of my teachers: May (the owner) be happy, may he be well, may
he be safe, may he be at peace. I prayed
for the future stewardship of the land – that someone would appreciate this
land and keep it in-tact, would protect the wetlands and forests and help the
land to heal.
As we were packing, it began
to snow. Anyone who has set up a
Mongolian yurt will know that trying to take down a yurt in the snow is very
difficult. Moreover, any dampness of the
felts and canvas would lead to mold and ruin the soft parts of the yurt – parts
that would cost thousands of dollars to replace -- if not taken down with care. The owner approached us one evening while we
were packing. I remember the evening
well. I was kneeling on the floor taping
up a box. He knocked on the door and
walked in without waiting to be let in.
He said it was time to go, and that it would be OK, we could return the
coming days to move the yurt and remaining items. Not having a formal lease, I had a sinking
feeling in my stomach and was unsure what our rights were. My husband and I debated our fate. In the end, we decided to trust that we could return the next day and finish moving within the week.
We left taking our cat with us, sleeping
in the office of a friend, and returned the following day. The gates were closed, and a letter was taped
to the gate from the property owner stating that if we set foot on the property
for any reason, he would charge us with trespassing. We were without changes of clothing, ID, financial
statements, and so on. We also had animals who were in our care who were now stranded on the property. I felt more helpless than I had ever felt in
my life.
I will spare the finer details
of what transpired over the 4 months it took to retrieve our yurt, belongings
and animal companions. When the withholding was bordering on being criminal rather
than civil (due to length of time the items were being withheld), we were
granted 2 days to take down and move the structure and remaining contents, many of which
had been ruined as the sun-roof had been left open and snow, ice and rain had
poured into the interior with no wood-heat to dry the moisture. A community of beautiful helpers spent time,
energy and finances helping to dismantle and move everything. I will forever be thankful to all of the
people who took us in and supported us over those months.
CEREMONY
Dark moon fell on the last day
of January 2022 – January 31st. This was
the second dark moon of the month (the first being January 2nd, Ceremony
#5). I had made a Motanka and Pysanka
for the ceremony. The significance of the Motanka – her making, scarves and sash
will remain as closed details this time, held within my own counsel for significant
reasons.
The Pysanka depicts the trees
and forests on one side, Ma honeysuckle held within a circle of tree companions
on the other side, and depictions of grey horned owl as well as wasp in the
underworld. The bands that encircle the
egg are composed of “X” shapes which are a symbol of Mati Zemlya (Mother Earth)
and bring protection and stability. The
cross-hatching is a symbol of fertile-fields and abundance.
I drove to the back end of the
property, which is located on a different road than the front end. There is no fencing, and a deer path leads into
what used to be the forest – the same forest where trees had been uprooting
themselves. As I walked along the deer
path, it was obvious how much of the forest had died. Whatever had remained standing when we had
left was now either fallen or cut and could hardly be called forest at this
point.
I walked a short distance in
and saw a large, upturned root. I remembered
this particular root – there had been rounds cut from the fallen tree that were
absolutely huge and incredibly heavy. As
part of our “job” while we had lived there, the property owner had wanted us to
clean up the fallen, rotting wood. I had
spent hours and hours picking up, carrying, and piling the logs and cut
wood. The nerves in my arms had begun to
ache to the point that picking up a plate to wash dishes was excruciating. I had attributed the pain to absorbing the sadness
that the trees and land must have been feeling.
In order to get through the work and the pain, I would think of my little
grandson, and all that he was going through.
I knew that what I was feeling was but a small fraction of what he and
his parents were going through. Every piece
of wood I carried and every step I took with it in my arms was an opportunity
to dedicate energy and prayer to him.
I began to use the alphabet as
a guide – the first armload was dedicated to the letter A… Picking up an armload of wood, I began to
walk toward the wheelbarrow, praying to my grandson, “A is for amazing, and
awesome… All the things you are, dear
grandson.” Picking up another armload of
wood, “B is for blessings – may you have many in your lifetime. And bountiful – may you have bountiful energy
for healing…” and so on.
The rounds that were from the
tree of the large, upturned root were so large and so heavy, I could barely
lift one at a time. So, as soon as I saw
the root, I knew this would be the place for the ceremony. Under the root was a cavernous space – like a
cave – where both Motanka and Pysanka were placed. Afterward, I paused and prayed to the tree/root,
asking it to represent my prayers to and for this land. Then I turned and looked at the former-forest
and sky, then closed my eyes and prayed for healing for the land, trees, inhabitants,
and all that had transpired here.
I retraced my steps and
returned to my vehicle. The ceremony had
been quiet and simple.
After going about the tasks
and commitments of the day, I found myself spontaneously going for a walk at
the location of Ceremony #1. I just felt
the need to connect with trees who have held me the past few years.
Later that night, I held Prayer
Fire. I made appeals to the ancestors of the lands, and to my own ancestors for some specific healings for the land in Maple Bay.
I had not told my husband
about the ceremony of the Fire – I usually keep to my own counsel with respect to ceremony at
least for a day, if not several days, and sometimes simply do not share anything. It has taken some practice to do these blog write-ups. (As students know, I will often call a Prayer
Fire in response to the whispers from Spirit, and then only sporadically follow-up after the Fire.) That night, I peacefully went to sleep. And, that night my husband woke me up somewhere
in the wee hours because he had been dreaming that people were surrounding our house, showing him fabric (that matched the Motanka fabric
from the ceremony) and other items including a large egg. He could not sleep and wondered what the dream might mean? I smiled in the dark, told him
that I had done ceremony earlier in the day, and that the ancestors were there
because of it. I assured him all was
well – this was a good sign.
The next day, I was running
errands and bumped into a friend I rarely see. This person
had adopted one of the farm animals – a grumpy ram with great curly horns – that
had previously been under the care of the property owner and was given away
when the property sold. Whenever we see this
person, he tells us how “Chuck” is doing.
This time he said he noticed Chuck is getting a white muzzle (aging) and
he told me how profound and important his relationship and friendship with
Chuck has been for the past 6 years. He
shared some touching stories of his time with Chuck, and of the language and
understanding they now share.
Upon meeting my friend, I knew
the ceremony was complete – what a beautiful transformation of energy and
“proper” way to complete the ceremony.
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