Monday, August 13, 2007
Location: Blood Reservation, Alberta

That’s the best way to describe how I’m feeling right now post-Sun Dance. I’m so full, I think if I try to squeeze the tinniest bit more energy into my body, I’ll simply burst.

I haven’t written anything in awhile so I’ll go back a bit to when I left my home here on the Peigan Reserve. I said goodbye to all the people who have come to be my family, to all the people I’ve grown to love very deeply. I cut all ties and began traveling south. I had plans of visiting the old lady just outside of Standoff for a quick interview before heading into Montana. But if there’s something I’ve learned here living with the Blackfoot, it’s don’t make any plans, and nothing happens quickly.

Shortly after leaving I found myself parked at the Standoff Family and Community Services building eating some chicken I had picked up in Fort Macleod. I was feeling pretty lost, I’ve been lost before, but not quite like this. An emotional, mental and spiritual paralysis had engulfed me while I sat there, and for the first time on my journey it made more sense to turn around then to carry on. So fighting back tears of frustration and confusion I went back home.

It was hard to come back home, to ignore the pressure of this project’s completion, to put things on hold, to slow down even more. Most importantly it was difficult to give up on the idea that I’m in control. I’ve often spoken of this, but there in that parking lot on the Blood Reserve, I realized that up until that moment I had mostly just been talking a good game.

Something changed in me that day, something profound to do with relaxing and letting go, and an acceptance that everything is always where it needs to be.

A few weeks later I found myself in a sweat lodge under a full moon back on the Blood Reservation. In that sweat I was offered a pipe by an elder and asked to help with the upcoming Sun Dance ceremony. There are things you can prepare for, while others just catch you off guard but in a beautiful way. I accepted the offer to help in any way that I could, to share whatever energy I had, and to commit myself to something that at that moment was beyond my personal realm of understanding.

I can never express my gratitude to the elder who opened this door to me. I know it came partly through the relationships I’ve built over the past few months living here. Nothing happens quickly after all. In any case it was a huge doorway that opened that day, and I’m certain I’ll be learning from it for a long time to come.

That night under the full moon was profound for me in other ways, since I began to understand my reasons for leaving and then returning from whence I had come. I had always known the Sun Dance was coming, but there was a large part of me that felt undeserving, that felt it wasn’t time, that felt unworthy of the experience. I have a hard time receiving gifts sometimes, and this was one that I was reluctant to receive or somehow even afraid of. I know now that I was brought back for a reason, and I also know that with the gift I’ve been given comes something I am so grateful to carry; yet at the same time there is also somehow a sense of loss, as things have forever changed and will never quite be the same. The true gifts in this life are the ones that leave you remembering who you once were.

I will not write about the Sun Dance ceremony itself as I feel it’s something to experience rather than something for photographs or the pages of a book. As my friend Ken Williams said in his interview, “We can talk about it, we can read about it, we can write about it, speak about it, but to experience it is another thing altogether; it’s a whole different dimension.” I think a sun dance is something you have to arrive at yourself, and in your own time.

But I will tell you what I saw in those four days working among the dancers. I’ll tell you what I saw in those four days where time seemed to break down and where I felt things I’ve never felt before.

I saw love. I saw a tremendous amount of love and compassion, people helping people. People working to be the best people they could possibly be. I saw people making good choices to build unity instead of harboring anger and resentment. I saw people standing up in a beautiful way.

I saw courage. I saw people at the end of their physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual rope, who in the wake of all their pain and suffering, stood up and pushed forward. They made an offering of themselves so we may all live beautiful lives in a beautiful way, enabling our world to heal rather than fragment further apart.

I saw family. I saw what family truly is, a place where people can stand and be supported. I saw family without boundaries, a family that extends well beyond bloodline, creed, or skin colour; instead building itself upon a foundation of openness, acceptance, respect, understanding, honesty, and belonging.

I saw spirit. I actually saw spirit, or rather felt it. In my brief time with the dancers I felt things I’m not sure I even want to explain. Again, there are things that are difficult to put into words. All I’ll say is, I felt people and knew things that I’m usually oblivious to. I felt things happening beneath the surface that brought me to tears, overtook me with anxiety, and filled my heart with love and laughter. And on that last day, as the dancers blessed us with their pipes, I was almost certain that my heart was going to explode.

peace,
d