Dedicated to Shyena Venice; Arrow Carrier of the 30th Sun Dance
I can feel the hard soil move through my feet, the moisture of my skin baking in the sun and my muscles aching with exhaustion. Red dirt. Sweat. Nothing to do but dance. The day is long and hot as thoughts like ‘why do this?’, and ‘at least Buddha was smart enough to sit down‘ roam through my brain. Then I feel it. I am more sensitive to existence; everything is erotically alive. Every time I dance, people are richer, more precious; not despite the hardships, but because of them. You become lighter. And you dream.
This year I dream about the children of the Fifth World. I write these words in my notebook, only to find out Shyena has written exactly the same words in hers. Things like this happen at Sun Dance.
I imagine the marvels children of the Fifth World will bring, what they will teach us, how they perceive. I know they are already here, warning and nudging us to us up. Will we develop eyes to see them, and ears to listen? I know they are born through magical seeds; they are conceived since always from the ordinary ecstasy of love. Shall we develop the heart to feel what is just so?
After the dance, I talk to a sun soaked grand mother and her daughter, who beam as they tell me stories about raising such a child. They tell me about her joy and quirky intelligence, which often surpasses theirs.
If I could read a story to this young girl, I’d start with:
The lioness needs, for her appointing,
no ceremony, no anointing;
Her deeds of heroism bring
Her fortune. Nature crowns her queen.
The elephant is the lion’s meat.
With drops of trickling ichor sweet;
Though lack thereof should come to pass,
The lioness does not nibble grass.
Yes, it’s a wild world emerging. Bring it on!