On the Journey to…
On my way to Standing Rock. Lovely drive in outrageously beautiful surroundings.
Already walking the path of love and open spirit as I pump gas and dine in politically red country. Wondering if anyone has noticed my two small bumper stickers, one with “Peace, Salaam, Slalom”, and the other a UUSC tree with “Plant Peace”. Then there’s the safety pin on my shirt, although it’s covered with layers of warmth. Good thing smiles and friendly hellos are universal. For the night, I’m safely tucked in a UU home in Bozeman.
Experiencing beauty, diversity, and hospitality all in the same day. Much gratitude for generous blessings.
At Standing Rock…
Wow! What an experience. It was such a privilege to be among hundreds and thousands of native peoples and allies on the day NoDAPL won. So many people worked so hard. They stood on the bridge, endured militarized terror with dogs, horses, tear gas, sub zero water cannons, and blaring lights, strobes, and sonic blasts piecing every night, blocked supply routes, threats, arrests, and so much more. Then the snows came. And the cold. And people. Lots of people. Despite being under constant surveillance, supporters flocked in to stand with the Water Protectors.
Today was Interfaith Prayer day. Hundreds of clergy and religious people from all around the world gathered around the sacred fire. In homage to the outstanding work of the UU Fellowship in Bismarck, Rev. Karen was invited to be the first to offer a prayer. (I’ll have to write more on the prayer circle in a later post.)
Before lunch the veterans began showing up by the hundreds, with estimates running between 4000 to 6000 arriving by Monday morning. The clergy march to the bridge was superseded by a request to form a giant prayer circle around the perimeter of the camp. I’m guessing it must have been a literal mile of people circling around.
That’s where I was when a huge cheer went up from the sacred fire circle way down in the center of camp. The whoops and hollers kept wafting uphill. Finally as the outer prayer circle began to collapse and return in, the news began to spread. We won! We won! Mixed in with cheers and tears were cautions about it being just a rumor. But smart phones began to give details. You could feel the exhilaration – and the exhaustion.
Yes, it is a victory. A huge victory. But the work is only beginning. As one of the chiefs said in an early prayer…
We are many people
We are one people
We pray for our children’s future
All water is sacred
All life is sacred
All life is sacred.
One river saved from the black snake, but the work that harms mother earth continues. Celebrate now even as we grow more and more resilient. We are not alone. That’s a good thing. It will take all of us to save the future for our children.
On the Journey Home…
I drove 1200 miles from Seattle to stand with the Sioux. I personally did not make a difference but my presence did. Along with other individuals numbering into the thousands, working together, we had impact.
The black snake, aka DAPL, is just shy of 1200 miles. On my drive – yes fueled with pipeline byproduct – I envisioned a long pipeline running alongside the highway, its contents carrying the black gold of addiction. If one escapes the immediate industry of gas and oil, alternate and renewable sources of power are available, sustainable, and earth-friendly. I too would like to end my personal dependency on climate-altering fuels, and hope that technology (and pricing) continue to make that a viable reality. Others will have to use their innovative gifts to make that happen. In the meantime, I will continue to add my body, voice and prayers to the cry of the Water Protectors.
The weather on my drive to Standing Rock was mostly clear. (And the black snake that mentally slithered beside the highway with me, did not break or leak.) This relative ease allowed me time to deepen my discernment about my motives, privilege, and (western mindset) expectations. I will share more on these later, perhaps in other formats. I also wondered about the future and the road back from Standing Rock.
On the immediate return after an intense day at the camp to the comforts of Bismarck – I’m not a winter camper – I had yet another reason for prayer. A few minutes behind me on the rural highway to Standing Rock, a head-on collision occurred, presumably at the posted speed of 65mph. The shorter route to camp, and straighter, had long been blocked by the state for ‘safety’ and discouragement. My prayers to all involved in the accident and gratitude that the theatened emergency response ban had not been invoked.
On Monday morning, I decided to head home instead of spending a few more hours at camp. It was a good decision. The snow was blinding with blustery white-outs. Cars passed me as I turtled along. I saw some in ditches minutes later. I imagine camping in those conditions would not be easy. Prayers again for all who continue to witness.
Gradually conditions improved. The snow gave way to orange-tinged stubble on the roadside shoulder with gray-blond winter wheat doing a combover in the fierce wind. It was a perfect metaphor for the journey ahead in Trumplandia and what we must do.
If my drive was an indicator, the flashing highways signs warning of “changing weather conditions ahead” were correct. The blustery shock of white-out – or more truthful, white-in – blinds us to the reality and freezes us in place. However, if we turtle on, the roads clear even as the headwinds remain. There will be patches of blizzard again, and moments of confusion over where the road actually is, but this too passes. We must continue.
The black snake of addiction that enabled me on the drive down to Standing Rock transformed itself on the drive home. It is now a rope, leading out of the maze, turning dead-end cynicism into a working labyrinth of hope. This is not a passive hope however. Both hands and all voices and bodies will be needed as we pull ourselves and our values forward.
It is a new world. With deep gratitude to our Indigenous brothers and sisters, we are all Standing Rock. We are people. We are one.
Twelve hundred miles of prayer and we’ve only just begun. Do more than hold on, do something. Join hands and be the rope, the community, the congregation, that leads us through. Our values, and our children, are worth every ounce that we spend with our prayers, our voices, and our bodies. Let us be the ancestors our children’s children would be proud to honor. Wake up. We have work to do.
Amen.
