I have a wise friend with whom I have had many, many contemplative discussions regarding the way we live in the modern world, and how we relate to the natural world. His perspective is unique and insightful because he has lived his life honoring the traditions of his Navajo culture. This culture is one of the most beautiful and inspiring cultures I have come to know. Their respect and connection to the Earth, the animals and plants, their extensive traditions, practices and ceremonies are rich with intention and life. Against the concrete backdrop of the modern world, these people attempt to live with as much balance, or as they say, hozho, to the natural world as they can. In our conversations we discuss that the relationship between this earth-based way of living and the modern world need to come into better balance. Clearly, we cannot unplug from the way we have industrially evolved, but clearly we can no longer afford to neglect the Earth and our inherent connection to her and our nature-self. I share below, a segment of his correspondence in regards to his perspective of living in hozho, and hope that it finds you with inspiration to enhance your balanced relationship to the Earth, it creatures, and to the divine creator that supports us all.
I welcome the vision of Ashiihi Nishli, Bilagaanaa ei Bashishchiin – Elijah Allan
“I’ve been wondering through this semester, classes seem to just fade in and out everyday. I continuously read, watch, desire to learn my traditional education, one which encompasses a world of respect, observation, relation, balance, caring, etc. These teachings are applied to all which is around us, below us, above us, within us, our spherical habitats. It sucks to know that many more people who encompass this type of living, Indigenous people, are continuously deprived, taken advantage of, and most of all, being modernized. The languages are dwindling. So much knowledge, faith, and uniqueness in these beautiful linguistic sounds lost forever to the winds of unbalance. When I think, speak, and sing my language, there is a sense of hope and pain at the same time, for I am happy to learn more, but frustrated to not know all. But then I point my head feather back up, like the mountains and plants do when the great rising of the Sun’s dim light peaks over its morning home to the east, and I look towards what I must do.
There is so much pain and suffering we seem to just push past everyday, cars burn more ancestors, buildings wipe out elderly green beings, structures suck the veins of living water, and the majority of people disconnect from their spherical habitats. Instead, they desire to connect to a globally connected world, where everyone is eager for what is afar, instead of engulfed by what is around them. But this kind of connection only brings more wire shorts, tangled cords, and unknown lost. Is this path of disconnection and dried up destruction what my grandson will face in his lifetime? I dream it will not be so, but then again, I did have such a dream. In this dream, I saw him rushing through and around a world of chaos. Dodging untrustworthy people left and right, and roaming afar for just a bite to eat or water to drink. But he is my son, he knows to head to the stronghold, where relations to mountains, oceans, rivers, animals, plants, everything in our spherical habitats have been woven strong again. The strong hold, a place where all thrive and communities begin the healing process again from the much suffering.
The main problem with this dream though, was the vast negativity. In my culture, it is not good to have so many negative thoughts. So this past weekend I was able to get away from the concrete jungle and hunt for some winged ones. I prayed with my corn pollen bag before setting foot into their land, with a pinch of the pollen, my tongue tasted its blessing, then my head feather accepted its golden offering, then the great Sun’s rays gathered the remainder below my finger tips which I had sprinkled it down on. My friend and I then step out into the mountainside, but the day brought no winged ones to us. Maybe my prayer was not strong enough, or maybe they are suffering like the many other than human relatives whose portraits continuously get hung on endangered lists such as on the IUCN blood list. Even on our next day out, only a couple of birds showed themselves to us, too fearful to let us thank them for providing prayer feathers and food for us. So we end our meeting early and return back to the rigid and ugly squarely looking concrete jungle. Maybe the quail we hunted for will be next on the lists of DNA to freeze. How crazy is it when people have already begun to prepare a frozen Noah’s ark. This is where many species, aka our other than human relatives, and their cellular language, songs, and stories are frozen. Is this in preparation for their future revival after the great collapse and immense pain is finally brought back into balance at the strongholds? Their is nothing more disturbing to me than to see all the plans we have been making to prepare for this event, when the peaks or tipping points have been reached or greatly surpassed. But this is where I again put my head feather back up.
See in our traditional ways, when such a predicament is noticed, there is an active effort to restore the balance which has been unraveled. Ceremonies are done, rules are adhered too, relations are relived, songs are sung, knowledge is learned, reciprocity is given, and everything in the spherical habitats returns to hozho (balance, good dealings, life of harmony). Everything in back of, in front of, and in place, everything around our Indigenous places returns to hozho. This is one thing my late father taught me well, to be aware when things would become hectic. And when you realize that, you find the certain ceremonies or activities to bring you back into hozho. This is one reason why I spent many days and weekends walking around the land when I got out of the military, because the land was one thing which would forever feel and hear the strain of my hardships from my youth, soldier days, and relations. It is what brought hozho back to
me. I did not need a psychiatrist, case manager, or therapist. The spherical habitats I was in provided all the therapy I needed. And it was their damn power which made me want to live again! My late father taught me to realize this, it’s been two years since he left though, two year since I saw him on the floor leave me with all the pain pooled up around him. My father is not here in body to teach me more. And wintertime is here, and I long again to hear him tell stories and jokes again while we feast around the place he built. A place beside lil’ red stones bundled up next to a reaching mesa known as Tse Awee’. Many more nights this winter will pass thinking about the life times we got to share together in our spherical world. Another winter will be spent thinking of the days I looked forward to visiting with him. But I keep my head feather up and know that the land will help get me through this again, whether I sing songs of it, travel in it, hunt for it, teach my son about it, or just look out to it, I’ll know the land will help me stay balanced.
So I will in reciprocity and thankfulness, return balance back to the land, back to my spherical habitat. The precision and numbered language of the western teachings, alongside that of my balanced and interwoven Indigenous education, is what my head feather will use to help get hozho again.”
Ashiihi Nishli, Bilagaanaa ei Bashishchiin – Elijah Allan is studying biology and conservation at ASU. His passion is to help bridge the earth-based ecology practices of his culture with that of science and stustainabilty. Thank you, Elijah for sharing your perspective and tender words.
Blessings,
Robin Afinowich
