Long ago in the land that is now known as New
Mexico, there was a small village that rested high on
the mountain's side. It overlooked what had been, a
mighty river, but is now, only a dry and rocky bed.
And for a time afterwards, wild flowers would still
grace it's parched banks. Crickets too sing at night
under the twinkling stars. It's a strange looking land, overgrown with thorny things
and entitities that come
out and crawl at night when the air has cooled things
off. The air is thick and hot in the summer, and the tourquoise of twilight lingers,
mingling with the
fragrance of chapparal blossoms.
There were many such villages scattered thruout the
rich plateaus of that land. For when the river flowed
thru the little valley, the hillsides were rich with green grass. Many had built their
homes close to the river in
the timberland that grew up from it's bountiful banks. Then there had been many flowers
and a great variety
of musical birds lived there also. The people that lived
there had grown more beautiful with the land, listening
to It's Voices and learning from the signs. They moved
in harmony with the land, lived in it's rhythms and
cycles. But when the river flowed out, their lives
seemed to go with it. Now what remains are legends
of it's people, and artifacts, broken with time and
cemented with earth. If one listens, the songs still echo
thru the howling winds of the desert. The beat of the
drum and the droneful singing of legends in chants,
come to one again and again, as the air circulates thru
the vast river basin.
Many of the tribes were related by clan. Related to
each other by ancestors in a distant time somewhere, remembered only by a name because of their
valor and because of the truth they shared. The truth of the
Oneness of all things; the truth that we are integral
with one another, and need each other's friendship and support.
So they lived their lives thru the artistry that Nature
gave them, thru the Artistry they saw all around them;
and they tried to keep the rhythm when the tides of
change challenged their loving spirit. They celebrated
in silence and songs, the sunrize and sunset, full in
their hearts and in their actions.
The changing seasons where the different chants the
Great Spirit sang to them, and they listened carefully, respecting what they heard and with
everything around them, they were at peace. They knew their Benefactors would return to them someday, the Shining Beings
that
had shared the secret of corn and cotton with them. That had shown them to live in a
clean way with one another. The Shining Beings had shown them how to cultivate
true lovingness. Had revealed the power inherent in
such loving sacrifice.
The people had brought these truths with them thru
all the generations, as best they could, handing them
down from father to son in stories and chants. The
Shining Beings had shared so much with them. It was
the Shining Beings who had come and given them humanness, and a way of living that defines
it. They
called it "The Path". The Path of the Living Loving
and Giving Light....and they grew deeper in understanding. They were aware of their souls
and
the souls of all living things.
The Shining Beings had come to them long long ago,
in the ancient past, come to them in great shining discs
of light that traveled at incredible speeds. The Shining
Beings had planted their seeds in these children. The harvest would take so many ages
to reap, but someday
the children would awaken, traveling thru inner worlds
of Light to the very center of Time...and thru it...to the eternal moment...the moment of Self
Realization...they would drink the Nectar, someday....
Now the Shining Beings it is told were very powerful
and magical beings. Legends tell of how they could
appear and disappear and traveled in what seemed to
be a haze of their own Light. The great shining discs of light were used to transport
the people to the underworld, where they would wait until the great waters of the flood subsided, and until the air was fresh
again and the
stench and unspeakable horrors of the great battles were
no more to be seen upon the land for the earth kept it's silence.
Many secrets too were hidden deep within the sea.
When they were in the underworld of earth, the children
of earth lived in their dreams, and their lives were very long. But when the people were
brought up again, hundreds and hundreds of years had passed and all the
old ones that remembered the earth as it had been, had
gone to sleep forever. It was a new generation that emerged, young and strong.
Then the migration began. They were brought up
from below and left on a great blanket of ice. With
them was a guide. He showed them how to survive on
the ice. From there they would begin the long journey which would last for thousands
of years. So it was that
they, the children, were the only survivors of that world
that was only known now, thru song and dance. They
were left to discover the rich and wonderful land that
lay beyond the ice. and in their migration, there would
be so much self-discovery. The stage was set for them,
and they walked out onto it. Mother Nature played in
her rich style, giving them many ways to discover the meaning of being as they suffered to
survive the
changing seasons. Only time could reveal whether
they would continue on the path that they had been
shown. Would they again become quarrelsome
children, disturbing the beautiful balance of the
Great Spirit's Creation?
Some walked in the artistry that had been shown
them in the beginning of their emergence, but some
did not. An eon had passed, and the teaching that had
been handed down thru so many generations held the
little villages together.
By the time the Spaniards arrived, there were some
who were eager to fall from the ancestral path, hoping
to find personal gain with the strangers. They had
desires of their own, and thought to make life easy for themselves. With the Spaniards
they could barter. And
so as time wore on, they lingered in misunderstandings
and fought wars with each other....and did not share as
they had before. They had become selfish children, even
as before. The heart of the Great Mother Earth was
patient for a long time, just watching. They bickered arrogantly with each other.
Some put their faith in the Spaniard's image of God. The villages were splitting
from within.
Now among the people were the faithful also. Among them, there were many fine
artists in all different trades. There were tool makers and potters and weavers and
story tellers. There were those that worked with wood
and with feathers. And there were teachers and others
that listened, and in listening, comprehended the whole
of the artistry everywhere moving within Nature. So it
was that they continued to walk in that artistry, that was
the gift of Nature bestowed on those whose hearts are
supple and humble before the Forces of Nature.
The Spaniards had come with their church. Perhaps where they had come from, their
religion worked. But
there, on Ehupai native soil, the age old ceremonies
and rituals passed down from father to son and from mother to daughter, were much more effective,
effective because the people put their faith in them together.
Anyway they brought the rain, and the rain is what
made the corn grow...and that is how the people
survived.
The Spaniards however, had brought many good
things with them in spite of their religious intolerance.
In time they came to see the innate goodness of these
people so that a great warmth and love grew up also between the Ehupai and some of the Spaniards.
The Spaniards brought horses, they brought sheep and goats
and dogs. Now the people could weave with wool.
Wool was cozy and warm. It took to dying easily,
but it shrunk more than cotten. It made excellant
blankets that were warm and soft. And from the goat's milk, they made cheese. Many
wonderful things the Spaniards brought to the people, but the evil seemed to outweigh the good at times. When the people
resisted,
the Spaniards were merciless. At last the people who
were still faithful to the law of their grandfathers,
plotted against the Spaniards.
The Spaniards had come to conquer new lands and convert all the pagan souls
and demons they could find. and they came, bearing a cross mounted upon a stick. Funny little men in rich warm
frocks carried them high above their heads. They seemed harmless enough at
first. They were called "Padres". Upon the cross hung their hero, shamefully scourged
and beaten, with nails driven thru his hands and feet. They said they came in peace, and He, was their Prince of Peace.
But these men
did not marry and did not have children. They were difficult for the Ehupai to understand.
There was much suspicion going on.
Before long, this cross became a sword, and it wedged
in between brother and sister, grandfather and son,
mother and daughter....even as the nails had come
between bone and ligament in the hands and feet of
the one they called their Beloved, the Lord...Jesus, the Christ.
At first the people had thought of the Spaniards as
the long lost Shining Brothers, whose return was long
awaited and whose coming had been prophesized
among the people from time immemorial. At first site
the Spaniards helmuts shining so brilliantly in the sun made the people hopeful. But
it was soon realized that
this was not so, for the Spaniard that had come to their land, was looking for gold as well
as converts. And he
was greedy and insatiable for both.
The people were forced to built the Spaniard's
churches and missions and dig their mines for precious ores. They were driven as slaves
much of the time, and forced to drag the heavy logs to be used for the mission's ceiling beams for many many miles...thru
hills and ravines. Hitched like animals to each other, they
dragged these logs. As children they had trusted these
men. But patience wore thin when punishments for resistance were too severe.
At last the people revolted.
Some of the Ehupai had actually gone over and become members of the Spaniard's hated church.
Because of
this there was much quarreling among the people themselves. The priests were always speaking
about
hell, and when they spoke of these things, one could see
the fires and brimstone and gnashing of teeth in the "father's" eyes. When
one of the priests was poisened
to death, a great eruption occurred between one family
and then another and another, until the faithful traditionalists were on the one hand and the
pacifist
progressives on the other. Shortly after that one evening during the ceremonial preparations,
many of the fathers and young men of the village, gathered together in
their main spokesmen's lodge. Although many were
now professed Christians, they still kept many of their traditional rituals alive, although
entirely in secret.
The Traditionalists resented the involvement of their clansmen with the Spaniard's church,
fearing it
would contaminate their own ceremonies, bringing misfortune and famine upon everyone.
So for that
reason, they plotted against their fellow clansmen and surprized them with fire clubs which
they threw into t
he lodge, locking the door securely. Every member
that had gathered in the lodgewas killed. Then they returned to their own homes and villages.
This was a
very terrible and heartwrending situation, for the
ancient clans and their traditions were suddenly and decisively wrent asunder. From
their early days until
now they had all followed a plan of peace. But the Traditionalists, even tho, thru prophesy
they knew the
time would come, the time that would tear their people apart, they did not know that it would
be by their own hand. Even still, they committed this cruel act upon
their fellow clansmen in an attempt to hold onto a way
of life so that it and they, would not pass away. The
pain of it goes very deep. Is one not supposed to protect what is dear to him...what
he has been directed to
preserve and protect as hallowed. The ancient thread
of Ehupai life was becoming unbalanced. So he cut off
his own unruly curl. But the root of the unruliness went deeper than he suspected.
And those that had not had
the patience to sit with the grandfathers and listen, exemplified this element with their midst.
And one
aspect of this horrible mess that was curious and
added confusion to the mind, was that at the same time
that one is defending the cause of peaceful creative
spiritual life....one must brutalize another to secure it
for himself. And because we are driven to do what we
must do...history is written...and much of it is grievious
and unforgetably unforgivable.
