Seeing The Cosmic Carrot Cookie
By Terra Hanks

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A drum beckons in the background as it escapes the walls of a Warren Wilson College dorm room. Its beats connect with my heart, then melt into song with the surrounding birds, which buzz into accordance with human voices. The wind gathers it all, with little effort, and sustains it on its invisible wing, carrying it to encircle the world. Through a process that has been as steady as the beating drum and as gentle as the wind which carries its sound, I have discovered the ligaments that connect me with my environment. This connection is my spirituality.

In the pages which follow, the reader will join me on my journey as I have researched and documented information and experiences that give some insight as to the kinds of traditional, Native American spirituality which is currently being practiced by several individuals in the region of Asheville, NC. The reader will also discover something of my own spiritual roots, a kind of plurality within myself, the seeds of which I began to discover during this past summer, as I struggled between accepting existing doctrine and seeking my own. I have questioned myself numerous times and I am sure I will continue to do so as time passes. I have felt unsure about my reasons for giving assent to some creeds while I disagree with others.

However, I have risen, like a new tulip in the spring, and have engaged with the spiritual plurality I have found dwelling within. The opportunity to meet with Native practitioners of an ancient form of American spirituality, has enabled me to understand and process different aspects of my own spiritual view. I have confronted the spiritual changes I have sensed with eagerness and have welcomed the opportunity to allow them a presence within me. However, as I review these changes, I realize they have been very rapid; I feel I have grown as fast as our universe is expanding and have struggled to process these new ideas; I realize I have merely allowed them to happen and in time will selectively discard what is no longer useful.

Not only through spirituality, but through communication and nature, change has occurred. These experiences are what has rooted me, but like an infant oak tree I too sway, prepared and open for growth. Exploring the growth that I have gained from this religious study, I am beginning to understand the pluralism within me.

The pioneering reason why I engaged in a study of Native American spirituality was because I was curios and intrigued by something about which I knew very little. One aspect that has always amazed me about Native American spirituality is that there appears to be little to no difference between living in the everyday life and living a spiritual life—for the two are interconnected. One Sioux elder explains this concept well, "All things are tied together with a common navel cord." (Time Life Books 9). This incorporates everything from trees and rocks to animals and humans as well as the elements--water, air, fire, earth. Living in awareness of one's connection with everything appears to lead to unbroken spiritual proclivity.

I know my study has not turned me into a traditional Native American practitioner, for this is impossible, but it has led me to understand more comprehensively my own personal path. It has opened my eyes to a way of life beyond ethnic boundaries. A well-known ndian, Lame Deer, explains, "We Indians live in a world of symbols where the spiritual and the commonplace are one. We try to understand them not with the head but with the heart, and we need no more than a hint to give us meaning"(Time Life Books 9). I have come to a truth like this one for myself. I have learned to speak from my heart and to hear my heart, for this is where Life dwells. I have discovered communication. I have discovered spirit, and I have discovered nature.

Over the course of this semester, I have met with numerous traditional practitioners as well as having experienced two traditional ceremonies: the sweat lodge and an energy balancing ceremony.

The sweat lodge is familiar to most, if not all, traditions within Native Americanism. Although it is most commonly associated with Native Americans, it is not specific to them. The origin of the sweat lodge or bath is unknown. However, they were utilized by the Roman Empire, the Mayans, and the Aztecs as well as descendants of present day Ireland (Aaland, par. 1).

The sweat lodge is utilized as a cleansing for further planes or dimensions (McGaa 62). Some believe that the lodge represents the womb of Mother Earth (Aalan, par. 2), whereas others believe the lodge is "the very body of the Great Spirit" (Gill 167). No matter how one understands its symbolism, the spiritual cleansing it offers is common to all who seek to explain its function.

The energy-balancing ceremony was performed on me by Howard Isaac, a Seneca Indian—a clan of the Iroquois. Before any ceremony, all participants must undergo a smudge; which is a cleansing of the energies. To smudge a person, you need one of the following:

After you have decided which incense best compliments the situation, you ignite it and carry the smoke over your body. This cleanses you from negative spirits and energy. Tools that are involved in ceremonial acts, must be smudged as well. Smudging is like the shower you have to take before entering the public swimming pool. It is for cleansing purposes.

Once I had been properly cleansed, the Seven Rays were summoned and asked to balance out my body. Each ray corresponds with a part of the body and a color—somewhat like the chakra system of eastern thought.

The subsequent words are from my recorded accounts which relate to these experiences. First, allow me to describe an obstacle that needed to be knocked down in order to move on:

One thing that became painfully aware to my "open" and "stereotype-free" mind was that my mind was full of stereotypes. I held expectations as to what Howard Isaac was going to look like—and it was nothing short of a scene out of Last of the Mohicans.

I pictured him answering the door dressed in full buckskin garb with long black hair strung back in two braids complemented by two eagle feathers. His feet were to be sported by moccasins and there was to be a manly, montagnard scent about him—natural with a hint of sage(Don't laugh too hard!).

When I see these thoughts on paper I realize how truly presumptuous and arrogant I was. This definitely reflects the amount of exposure that I have had to Native Americans as a youth. I have never had the opportunity to have dialogue with Native peoples. I have never experienced rituals, ceremonies or had any real introduction into Native culture—but I have always possessed a real strong imagination. I was raised with the many creation stories and animal allegories that are common among Native American traditional culture. So, I suppose that I have created an image for Native Americans derived from the stories I have heard and the movies I have seen.

Not only did I expect Howard to be dressed in this certain fashion, but I also had a predetermined presence for him. In my mind's creative cavity, I saw Howard to be a wise sagacious man who would meet me and see the desire in me to understand. He would see the eagerness, tranquillity, and spirit within me and he would comfortably share his endless knowledge and the enigmatic wisdom that he holds. I realize that this presupposed persona I had contrived was as ridiculous as the vision of the eighteenth century deerskin wearing "squanto." Just realizing that I had these conventionalized ideas, brought about much growth. Now I am much more aware of stereotypes—in and around me—and I am quicker to disregard them.

Howard is indeed a very sagacious being. One thing I learned through this experience is that we all hold wisdom; it is just a matter of seeing it. He shared some of his knowledge. He introduced me to ritual. He introduced me to silence. He introduced me to simplicity. He reintroduced me to nature. And he did all of this in the context of the 90's. Through black jeans and a red flannel shirt, he diluted my stereotype and opened a new realm. He did not have to be the typecast "Squanto" to convey a natural understanding or sport feathers billowing from his head to divulge their importance.

From person to person and experience to experience, there has been some striking similarities—not only within the frontiers of this field study but also the domain of daily life. From my first interaction with Howard, everything in my daily life has started connecting. I have felt a tighter bond growing between the earth and myself. As this has progressed, I have actively participated in defending her. From "stop logging campaigns" and SOA protests to simple walks by the river, identifying her fruit, I have come to recognize her voice.

I have experienced a presence within certain people that I have never felt before nor may again, but it struck me with such force, I was speechless. The following is my description of these similarities I have discovered from person to person:

There seems to be a common theme among those with whom I have spent time learning from and listening to. This prevalence is the power that these individuals hold within their presence. I see and feel a distinct quality in them. Whether it be love, wisdom, silence or simplicity—it is indescribable. Witnessing this commonality, I have begun searching within myself and within the native culture to find the source. I am determined to understand this awesome and euphoric effect.

The first time I encountered this comfortable company, was upon meeting Howard Isaac—a Seneca Indian from north Asheville. I departed for his home—where the interview transpired—in a mad rush of over-scheduled frustrations and nervous anxiety. I walked up to his door and found him waiting with his shaky hands on the doorknob. He greeted me with a twinkle in his eyes and a warmth in his hands that you would not find even here at Warren Wilson—land of affection. I was a bit taken aback by his serene disposition. Warmth emanated from the room, and maybe it was just the electric heater positioned in the middle of the floor—but I think not.

Howard Isaac held a peace about him that journeyed beyond the walls of himself to his surroundings. He is quiet and seems to speak only when something needs to be said. When he speaks, he focuses deep, deep, deep beyond the visible realm, often staring into limbo. He politely answered my questions I proposed to him—pertaining to rituals, tools, the Sacred, accidents, karma, rejuvenated traditions, and a lot of them were answered with nature.

I went to his home with little expectations as to what I would gain from my visit and left with an overcrowded spirit and passionate conviction for nature thus "plurifying" my thoughts. It began with his answer to my question regarding the differences between Cherokee and Iroquois. He chose to answer by comparing these two tribes to animals:

It is like the animals in their environment. They adapt to what their environment is and use what's around them so, southwestern culture may be different in their practices than the Iroquois but again their goal to express their environment is the same. (Isaac Interview #1)

People create organic metaphors to explain certain points—I realize. However, animal to human congruency is a foreign thought in most conversation. I was drawn into Howard's dogma here and shortly thereafter even deeper.

I used to have students that I would teach about the Wheel of Life and it basically talks about how we are connected to all things and talks about the cycles of the moon and how the moon affects each and every one of us each month and what, you know, each moon represents and how it affects us—how it plays a role in our life. (Isaac Interview #1)

The sacred moon time that we all possess—men and women—is something I rarely hear anyone, especially men, discuss. As a woman who struggles with her own moon time, hearing him speak to this mitigated my embarrassment. This also helped me to see the importance in allowing my spirit to unite with that power every month because it is something special that needs to be acknowledged.

The moon affects the tide and, as a gift from the creator, I receive a tide of my own every month. Just like that of an ocean tide I hold strength and power. It sways with the moon and it creates an opportunity for insight, for help, for prayer, for emotion, for tears, for understanding.

Howard Isaac is one of the last few people among the Iroquois who can read stones—or do what his people call "stone readings." Stone reading is "taking something from nature and understanding how one person is connected to nature. It is showing that person how they are connected to nature through many different aspects—trees, stones, water, animals, plants..." (Issac Interview #1). Although he did not discuss this ability any further, I feel like it is an important aspect of our natural connectedness.

Additionally, meditation directly relates to the energies of nature. Howard spoke of different meditations that he has conducted, and one he discussed involved nature directly. It entails immersing oneself in nature and learning to listen to the surrounding environment. The key is to find silence in oneself. Silence through mere observation is one's guide. Through this process you are also honoring nature by way of listening.

The most powerful answer I received from Howard, also revolving around nature, followed my question pertaining to the pluralism project and the importance of interfaith understanding. Here is his answer:

...And in my classes I tell people, I says look at nature and you can see that the Creator didn't put just one tree for us to live from. You can look at nature and see the many different variety of trees: oak, pine, maple, aspen, you know. Just the different kinds of trees among themselves, but if you could hear trees speak you wouldn't hear the pine tree telling the maple tree to become a pine tree, you know. But we look at through where, where are all those trees rooted to, to one thing—they are rooted to the earth. I believe the earth mother's source of knowledge and what she's doing—she's sending out information and each tree is receiving that information and perceiving and expressing it in, in it's own way. My tradition has learned to honor how one believes—that's why I listen to what they have to say even though I know what they are going to say—I honor what they believe I only wish they would honor what I believe because I don't want to be a pine tree—I wanna be a maple tree because that's what I am you know...and it's the same way with flowers or anything of nature—we are all rooted to one source of energy and knowledge—that's the Creator, the Great Spirit, or God...you know, and not say that you're right or wrong but just ask them to say, you know, walk with me and share with me what you know and I'll listen to you and honor what you say, but I ask you to walk with me and listen to what I know and honor what I say, you know, this way we get a greater picture of the whole, scheme of things instead of just one viewpoint and getting a greater picture of many expressions and an infinite source of knowledge. (Isaac Interview #1)

Simple. So simple. I feel this man's words have forever changed me. He taught me that everything can relate back to simplicity and nature. We are all vehicles for the Creator to work through. It is important to allow the Creator to work through me in my own way. My path might not be Howard's path or Stephen's path but we are all merely on paths leading to a Greater Conscious!

So what makes a person have such an incredible, indescribably amazing presence that oozes through every movement and thought and sound—I think this song best describes it:

Simply, realizing that one is encompassed by the beauty of our Creator and seeing within oneself, this beauty presents a wing that will send one flying.

Sticking to a natural theme, I wrote the following essay after speaking with Howard:

A gliding Warbler is Nature. The moist terra firma is Nature. The straight sycamore is Nature. The powerful waters of the Snake river are Nature. My ingested food is Nature. Progressively, throughout this project, I have been reintroduced to these aspects of life. I have been reborn. Native American tradition has watered a dying seed suppressed deep within me. Nature is the mother of all—language, silence, spirit, deliverance, creation. Nature supplies the answers for hope, love, conversation, awareness, solitude, oneness, and relationship. Nature is my spirit, my motivation—my inspiration—my vision of the holy. Howard Isaac was the vehicle that carried the nourishment for the esurient energy within me and I readily accepted it.

My only question resulting from this conversation with Howard is:
Where does the unatural, humanly constructed world of computers, dry walls, automobiles, and square buildings bind with the natural world? These are aspects of our world and we must acknowledge them—so where do they fit into our inter-connected puzzle? I hear many Natives speaking to the solely natural world and of nothing beyond and I am wondering if there is a beyond for them.

The next text is my journal entry proceeding my first ritual experience:

Mainly unstrung and anxious, I departed for Howard Isaac's home. Caught up with future deadlines and past mistakes, and living no where near the present moment, I told myself I was ready for this experience.
Mutually greeting one another at the door, I stepped inside the half white siding-half brick house and entered the living room. The dog and the electric heater, sitting amidst the couches on the wood floor made for a warm welcome. I gave the dog a pat on the head and as I turned around, I saw Howard's red and black flannel shirt retreating around the corner to the hall closet. I was left standing there somewhat uncomfortably.

Descending, back to Howard I came—but where was he? Silence absorbed the room and I felt no one. My right shoulder sensed a shake. My left shoulder experienced a quiver. Subsequently, he saluted my shoulders transmitting intense energy. Upon the simultaneous touch of this man's hands, I felt surges of energy coloring my entire body—giving and taking from one spot to another. Lightning bolts melted my musing—flashes of light before my closed eyes. How can this wobbly disabled man transmit such intensity through my body?

Suddenly, I heard a foreign tongue. Up unto this point Howard had been entirely silent, except for his wheezy breathing and the chatter the floor made with his feet. Now Howard was chanting in his vernacular tongue. I was reminded of the history behind the language; it was created by the sounds of nature. Soothing to the ear, I let it unfold to all extremities of my body. A lot of timed passed; and he still was singing. I was so soothed. Dulcified tension and anxiety leaked into my chair. I had almost drifted into a sleep when he retracted his hands from my shoulders sending me back into consciousness. He, silently, gathered the contents of the box, now scattered throughout the room and returned them to their cardboard home: the pregnant feather, the pearl flavored shell, the fantasy inducing wing, the sweet white sage, the large up the, fraternal twin crystals, and the two round stones.

He took a seat in the chair to my peripheral right and implored "How do you feel?". I gingerly opened my eyes and saw a brighter, more electrified world. My first physical image was of the large tree outside the window. It shed off an orb of light defining its shape. The clouds in the distance seemed to be smiling. The grass suggested comfort. The natural world seized me. I was speechless.

Howard, drew me to his attention and told me that the ritual he had just performed was energy balancing. (That would explain the euphoric, centered, calm, feeling I was having!) He said that traditionally everyone would have known how to render such an act. Think about that, if you will. If the white man would have embraced these people and learned from their differences—where would our medicine be today? If we were able to access this ability on a day to day basis we would not need antibiotics and decongestants and cough syrups and painkillers. For day to day aches, pains, and minor injuries, all we would need would be each other. WOW!

I professed my gratitude to Howard and the Creator, then departed. Outside, I became overwhelmed with vibrant stimuli and I began to rejoice with tears. My breath held me on the ground. I was aroused by every sound. Slowly...I made it to my car. I could only sit, once I had arrived upon it. I do not know how much time elapsed but I could only sit. Eventually, I was able to obtain the keys from the body of my dizzy bag; I entered them into the ignition—and sat some more. I turned the key and sat, still in awe. The car was on. I sat some more. Finally, I was fit to drive.

How significant the next series of events is, I do not know. It could be a strange coincidence or something more:

Not wanting to return to Warren Wilson so hastily, I ventured into downtown Asheville. Malaprops was the first building at which I presented reborn self. I remained there for a spell, then journeyed down to fill the meter and get some tea.

Another interview transpired with a woman, Amy Walker, from Cherokee. This is my narration of the ordeal:

Since I had begun fasting, I was not exactly as strong as I usually am—but I suppose that is only physical. My mind was fragile and on the verge of spacey. I had found her worksite as easily as water moves around a rock, but I still had the pre-interview jitters.

"Our gifts are only shown to us when we're open to seeing them." (Walker Interview #2) This was her answer to my question pertaining to the Earthkeepers and what her advice would be to someone dedicated to this. I hear her saying that a gift is something one must be aware of before it is accepted. Opening up to the spirit within each of us bestows these gifts. Thank you Amy.

Lastly, is my delivered description of the Lakota sweat in which I participated in with two close friends on Sunday April 11, 1999:

Greeted by the wakinyan, (thunderbird, also means lightning or thunder) symbolically, I entered the earthen structure to be cleansed. I proceeded after unfamiliar women and was followed by other unfamiliar men. No unity was that apparent upon entering except within the boundaries of nervous societies built on familiarity. Sitting in the company of Mother Earth, I felt the darkness and was not afraid.

Silence. Silence, holds immense power. Awestruck with the lodge experience, silence held our tongues. We were like sacred wind twirling through one another, speaking with our eyes and our hearts. I found it foreign to utilize sound, although my effervescent spirit was liberated from the confines of my consternation. Peace compelled me. I melted to my surroundings; for they were silent as well. A gentle wind stirred amongst the fire's remains and symbolically carried them away.

Throughout this intense ceremony I learned about community and communication. Community is communication and unity within a particular locality. Amid the partakers of the sweat lodge, I found a strong and united community to which I now belonged.

Since communication is such an important part of a community, many types of it are rendered within the lodge. Touch bestows connection. Silence invokes listening. Energy institutes relation. Like a blind and deaf man adjusts his communicative skills, a sweat lodge ignites creative expression.

In the past, I have craved ceremony like a weak baby who searches for but cannot find her mother's breast. My only taste was through National Geographic magazine or an anthropological documentary on Oregon Public Television. I have wanted to develop an understanding and knowledge of the Sacred. I have longed to seek out my gift. I thought that I had lost my ability to communicate and be understood. I once had a connection with the earth and her inhabitants and I have feared that this too had been lost.

I have been found. I have encountered the Sacred many times—in rocks, in trees, in animals, in the wind, in space, in the earth, in song, in the drum, in voice, in language, in silence, in people, and in myself. I have unearthed a sector of me that I thought even the most skilled Golden Retriever could not bring back. I have discovered a chocolate box full of communication skills and uses. I have been shown a gift of my own. I have let the Mother taste my sweat. I have learned how to mold ritual to me. I have been wed to all my relations. I have...I have...I am in the process of developing a passionate comprehension more intimate than that of two soul mates lying naked together as one beneath a waterfall...and I will continue. Hetch etu aloh (It is so indeed).

My experiences have gone beyond the words of good, great, amazing, excellent, or superb. They have forged the bounds of pluralism within myself and through me--others. I will share my knowledge and experiences just as an oral history is shared through generations. Since my journey and teachings have resulted in such positivity I am left with one final question.

Lodge.1997.http://www.cyberbohemia.com/Pages/originoftem.htm

Company.1983.

World. San Francisco: Harper,1990.

Life Custom Publishing, 1997.