Sulustu

The Creator

2012-02-11T12:51:00.000-08:00

During the late 1800s, Father Joseph Griva translated several Catholic prayers and catechisms into the Kalispel Language. As I have mentioned before, I appreciate these translations because they provide examples of complex sentence structure in Salish. These books have greatly deepened my understanding of the language.

In this example, Father Griva wrote:

Kuemt lu gol shei lu kolinzuten z-koltz lu skusees lu tel sch-chemaskat ks chinshitems lu skeligu ie l stoligu. Lu skusees kolinzuten shei lu Jesu kri. Jesus shei unegu kolinzuten. Jesus shei negu skeligu. Jesus potu it shei kolinzuten u skeligu.

The same text in the IPA format:

kʷen't łuʔ x̣ʷl šey' łuʔ k'ʷul'ncutn ckʷulsc łuʔ sqʷseʔs łuʔ tl' sččmasq't qs čnšitms łuʔ sqelixʷ y'e l' stulixʷ. łuʔ sqʷseʔs k'ʷul'ncutn šey' łuʔ yesukli. yesu šey' unexʷ k'ʷul'ncutn. yesu šey' nexʷ sqelixʷ. yesu puti t šey' k'ʷul'ncutn u sqelixʷ.

My translation back into English:

Then for that (reason), the Creator sent his son to us from the sky to help the Indians (people) here on the earth. The Creator's son is indeed Jesus Christ. Jesus is truly the Creator. Jesus is also Indian (human). Jesus is still (continually) Creator and Indian (human).

Translation is never an exact science.

Without question, the priests intended to say that Jesus is human; however, in our language, the word for human (sqelixʷ) is also the word we reserve specifically for ourselves as Indian people. In fact, after white people began arriving in great numbers, a division in the language occurred. Our ancestors retained the original human designation for Indian people (sqelixʷ) and assigned a different term for white people (suyepi). Nowadays, sqelixʷ and Indian are nearly synonymous.

Perhaps ironically, the priests declared in their own catechism that Jesus is Indian. This makes me wonder how our elders would have perceived this teaching. In my imagination, I picture them smiling and nodding in agreement, but in the back of their minds, they may have said to themselves, "Of course the Creator is Indian. We knew that all along."

And if the Creator is Indian, then we will relate to him as we always have, with our own ceremonies, prayers, and songs.

łu tel kaimintis kolinzuten

2012-02-09T00:41:00.000-08:00

More than 100 years ago, the Jesuit missionaries brought Christianity to the Salish-speaking peoples of the Inland Northwest, and as I've mentioned before, the main branch of my family adopted Catholicism as far back as the 1840s. It's a complex and confusing history. On the one hand, the early Jesuit fathers mastered the Salish languages to an amazing degree of fluency. They even published books in the language! But a generation later, Catholic schools were punishing Indian children for speaking anything other than English. What a bizarre irony of history! They meticulously documented the language, only to later encourage its eradication.

The contradiction is unfathomable, but at the end of the day, I really am grateful that the priests wrote about their experience of the Salish language. More than a century later, their writings have both supported and deepened my own learning process.

In 1879, the Missionaries of the Society of Jesus published a compilation of Bible stories written in the Kalispel Language: łu tel kaimintis kolinzuten (From the Writings of the Creator). To my knowledge, they never attempted a complete translation of the Bible into any interior Salish language, but kaimintis kolinzuten is perhaps the most complete Biblical text ever written in a local dialect. It includes all the major stories of the Old Testament, along with a thorough summary of the four Gospels.

Of course, the priests did not have the benefit of our current writing system, sometimes known as the American Phonetic Alphabet or the International Phonetic Alphabet. They invented their own system of writing based upon a simplified version of the Roman letters. Their writing was difficult for me to understand at first, but once I learned a few basic substitutions, I found that it was relatively easy to decipher.

For example, the priests used the letter 'g' to indicate most of the 'x' or 'xʷ' sounds. They also used the letter 'z' to represent the 'c' or the glottalized 'c'.

The following is a sample of the text, followed by a transcription in the current writing system and a tentative translation into English:

T-KOLINZUTEN kólis łu s'chchmáskat, u łu stóligu. U łu stóligu i choólegu ... łu lesshii̓ti sgalgált, zúti: Kskol'li łu spaáka, u kolil łu spaáka ...

t k'ʷul'ncutn k'ʷul'is łuʔ sččmasq't, u łuʔ stulixʷ. u łuʔ stulixʷ i č'uw'leʔxʷ ... łuʔ l' hecšʔiti sx̣lx̣alt, cuti: qs k'ʷul'l'i łuʔ sp̓aʔaq, u k'ʷul'l' łuʔ sp'aʔaq ...

The Creator made the sky and the earth. And the earth was a deserted place ... On the first day he said: Let the light be born (made), and the light was born (made) ...

Of course, it is important to note that a person could not really learn to speak the language using only the Jesuit text. The letters are relatively consistent, but the sounds are not precise. Having said that, the text provides a valuable resource to anyone who already has a solid understanding of the modern writing system. With a few substitutions, I have been able to read and understand the writing and thereby answer a few long-held questions about grammar and sentence structure. And since the Spokane Language is so similar to the Kalispel, these books provide crucial insights into my own understanding of Salish.

Never Stand Alone

2012-02-05T21:43:00.003-08:00

One more video of Dakota singing...

Broadway Night

2012-02-04T23:31:00.000-08:00

Dakota sang an amazing rendition of They Live In You (from the Lion King) at Mead High School's Broadway Night. It was a brilliant, inspirational performance - with goose bumps and all. As always, my son makes me proud.

Snow

2012-01-19T23:56:00.000-08:00

ho....y čicntm łuʔ sʔistč y'e n sƛx̣etkʷ. xʷeʔit hec mox̣ʷpmi y'etłx̣ʷa, u xʷeʔit łuʔ sm'ek'ʷt y'e n stulixʷ. yoyot čn lemt x̣ʷl n̓e sqepc, m qe tixʷ t sewłkʷ x̣ʷl qe sqelixʷ sʔiłn... łuʔ sp'eƛm, łuʔ p'ux̣ʷp'ux̣ʷ, łuʔ st'šałq... hecya stem'.

kʷen y'e sč'łq'ʔincut č' čsax̣m łuʔ ntx̣ʷetkʷ.

Ancestors

2012-01-17T12:16:00.000-08:00

y'e kʷiƛ̓t sč'łq'ʔincut tl' int'upyeʔ Leyton Moses, nexʷ łuʔ p'x̣ʷp'x̣ʷuc. Joseph Moses łuʔ m'estm's u Ellen łuʔ tum's. q'ʔintem łuʔ skʷesc t q'ʷaylqs Father Connolly, nexʷ łuʔ snqlixʷskʷesc. ec'x̣ił q'ʔintes łuʔ q'ʷaylqs: Qui-métqu łuʔ Leyton snqlixʷskʷesc. Seésh-shm-ta łuʔ Ellen snqlixʷskʷesc. łuʔ Joseph Moses ƛ̓m epł esel snqlixʷskʷest (šey' cuti łuʔ q'ʷaylqs): Ch-tóh-see u Pah-ko-tés.

ta hec misten lčen u qeqs q'ʔintem łuʔ skʷesc y'etłx̣ʷa.

Another photograph of my great grandmother Leyton Moses, along with her parents. Joseph Moses was her father and Ellen was her mother. Their names were written by the black robe (priest) Father Connolly, and also their Indian names. This is how the priest wrote: Qui-métqu was Leyton's Indian name. Seésh-shm-ta was Ellen' Indian name. Joseph Moses had two Indian names (according to the priest): Ch-tóh-see and Pah-ko-tés.

I do not know how we would write their names now (in the modern Salish alphabet).

Leyton

2012-01-17T00:28:00.000-08:00

łuʔ in t'upyeʔ Leyton Moses u łuʔ stmčʔelc Nellie Pichette.

My great grandmother Leyton Moses and her daughter Nellie Pichette.

Mary Walker

2012-01-14T23:27:00.000-08:00

Several days ago, I held in my hand a most extraordinary book - an original hand-written Spokane dictionary compiled by Mary Walker sometime between 1838 and 1848. The book was constructed from several folded sheets of paper that were bound together by a simple black thread. The pages contained a random mix of words written in both ink and pencil, along with an assortment of streaks and household stains.

I was actually surprised they allowed me to handle an original document from the 19th century.

This hand-written dictionary resides in the Northwest Room of the Spokane Public Library. Before I was allowed me to view the book, I had to sign a special agreement that included my driver's license number and other identifying information. With all the paperwork complete, the librarian simply handed me a folder that contained the original book.

Elkanah and Mary Walker lived among the Spokane people from 1838 to 1848. The American Board of Commissioners of Foreign Missions sponsored the Walkers as missionaries to convert the Spokane to Christianity. After following the Oregon Trail to Walla Walla, they eventually settled in a place called Tshimakain, near present-day Ford, Washington.

The Walkers lived among the Spokane for nine years, but never made a single convert. Their failure to win souls for Christianity perhaps stemmed from their ethnocentric view of religion. The Walkers demanded that the Spokane not only abandon their existing spirituality, but also adopt a European, agrarian lifestyle. How farming became a requirement for salvation, I'll never know. But their diaries also suggest that both Mr. and Mrs. Walker often expressed contempt for Native customs, beliefs, and traditions.

Years ago, I remember reading that Mrs. Walker sometimes scolded the Spokane for what she perceived as sinful behavior - things like practicing Indian medicine or 'stealing' from her garden. Some parts of her dictionary seem to reflect a basic misunderstanding of the culture and a focus on negative behavior. In fact, the initial three words on the cover page are: to steal, to lie, to hide away.

It is easy to see why the mission failed to gain converts.

Despite the apparent ethnocentrism, Mary Walker's dictionary offers some insight into the origins and development of the Spokane Language. For example, the second page contains the Spokane word for the soul: sinhupows. Mrs. Walker created an improvised spelling system, but still the word bears an obvious resemblance to the correct pronunciation: snx̣pew's.

The appearance of this one word inspires an interesting question in my mind. For several years, I have heard the story that the Spokane word for the human soul was a creation of the Catholic missionaries, and yet Mary Walker may have recorded that word as early as 1838, several years before the priests even arrived in the area. My family did not become Catholic until some time between 1842 and 1845. The Protestant and Catholic missions did overlap somewhat, so it is possible that they shared a common vocabulary, but I have to wonder if Calvinist missionaries would accept a Catholic description of the soul.

Another interesting word that she recorded was a word for spirit: Npupowlish's. This word is similar to the word npupewlštn, which has reference to the breath. Once again, this makes me wonder if that was an original Spokane concept of the spirit or a Christian innovation.

I cannot say that Mary Walker's Spokane Dictionary added to my vocabulary - her book was really nothing more than a word list - but it inspires me to see a written account of the Spokane Language from almost 175 years ago.

The Walkers abandoned the mission shortly after the Whitman Massacre in 1847. Some time later, Mrs. Walker composed a poem to remind her children of their birthplace among the Spokane:

Tshimakain! Oh, how fine, fruits and flowers abounding,

And the breeze, through the trees, life and health conferring.
And the rill, near the hill, with its sparkling water
Lowing herds and prancing steed round it used to gather.
And the Sabbath was so quiet and the log house chapel
Where the Indians used to gather in their robes and blankets.
Now it stands, alas forsaken: no one with the Bible.
Comes to teach the tawny skailu (people) of Kai-ko-len-so-tin (God)
Other spots on earth may be to other hearts as dear;
But not to me; the reason why, it was the place that bore me.

*

Notes:

1. The correct spelling of people is sqelixʷ.
2. The correct spelling of Creator (God) is k'ʷul'ncutn.
3. The poem is quoted from:

http://www.historylink.org/index.cfm?DisplayPage=output.cfm&file_id=7204.

The MAC

2012-01-11T23:59:00.000-08:00

This morning I paid a visit to the Northwest Museum of Arts and Culture (the MAC) to lead a student group from an ESL class (English as a Second Language). The students represent a variety of cultures, but the majority have come to the United States from the Himalayan nation of Bhutan.

The Bhutanese students surprised me because of their deep interest in the various exhibits. For example, as we observed several large baskets, one middle-aged woman became somewhat emotional as she explained that many years ago, her father had made a similar basket. Almost every time I have spoken to the Bhutanese students, they remark how similar their culture is to the indigenous people of North America.

Every item displayed a deep sense of beauty. Every basket, mocassin, or beaded bag reminded me of friends and loved ones who continue to make such things, and while I certainly understand the desire to preserve them, it was difficult for me to see them as simple artifacts. Yes, I appreciate the beauty, but at the same time, I feel sad to know that these items will never be used again.

In the old way, I have heard it said that certain objects sometimes come alive, like a spirit. I wonder then, how these ones feel living always behind a layer of glass.

The lobby features a large mural painted by local artist Ric Gendron. I have to say that I have always loved his work. In my experience, his paintings reflect the soul of Indian people in this region. They evoke something deeply inspired and authentic, and they reflect tradition, while accepting the complexities of culture and history.

etwan

2012-01-08T02:26:00.000-08:00

Eighteen years ago today, my father left this world. He would have been 64. Since these anniversaries never seem to leave my heart, I must still have some need to observe his memory and his vision for the world. During the last ten years of his life, he worked hard to promote the traditional ways of our ancestors. He traveled all around the Pacific Northwest and learned from elders in several different Indian communities. He cooked for traditional gatherings and revived many of the old songs.

If he were alive today, I have no doubt that he would be very happy to witness our efforts to re-vitalize the Spokane language.

Just the other day, I was thinking about how Native languages are lost over time. Many of our elders once believed that the Indian ways were a thing of the past, so they taught their children to speak only English. In my family, my father was the first generation to learn English as his first language, meaning that I am only the second generation removed from the world of my Salish-speaking ancestors. His parents and grandparents certainly knew English as a matter of convenience or perhaps necessity, but they spoke Salish first. When I consider the 10,000 year span of history in this region, two generations do not seem like a long time.

English was also my first language, but a remnant of the old language persisted.

A scattering of Salish words punctuate the memory of my childhood. For example, some of my earliest memories revolve around asking my father for permission to do one thing or another, and he would often respond by saying, "xʷuyš!" which means, "Go!"

Other times, we followed a strange ritual around driving the car. Where ever we went, my father always sat behind the wheel, but whoever sat in the front passenger seat had the solemn responsibility to watch for cars on the right side of the vehicle. If we came to an intersection, my father would never look to the right. He only looked to the left, which I suppose he regarded as his special domain. With complete trust in the navigator, he always asked, "How is it?" The navigator would then look to the right and decide if it was safe for the car to enter the intersection. If other cars were approaching, the passenger would say, "Wait," but if the road was clear, he would say, "miš," (This means literally: "It is empty.") Upon hearing that word, my father drove forward onto the highway without pausing or making a second thought. In a way, our safety depended on that one word.

From my childhood, I also remember that my elders sometimes asked, "stem' a spuʔus," which was a way of asking, "How are you?" But it literally means, "What's on your heart?" Other words also survived, like yaya (grandmother), sileʔ (grandfather), suyepi (whiteman), or lemlmtš (thank you), but I have no idea why some persisted into our English-speaking world and why others went dormant.

A while ago, I was also wondering which of all the Salish words was the first to enter my permanent memory. I reflected on this question for several days, and I finally concluded that the earliest word from my childhood is actually my father's name: etwan. A long time ago, our Salish-speaking elders once created Indianized versions of English names - names like misel for Michael, tapit for David, malian for Mary Anne, and etwan for Edward. Some families continue this practice today.

I have virtually no clear memories of my yaya Minnie (my father's mother), but I can still see her in my mind sitting in a chair with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. I don't remember anything else, except that she called for my father, "etwan, I'm cold. Put some wood in the fire."

On this day, eighteen years after my father's passing, I am somehow comforted to know that his name was the first word I can remember learning in Salish. Like a seed left over from a previous generation, that name is a source of power and the beginning of possibilities yet to come.

(Salish has no capitalization, so these names are written with all lower case letters).

Whitney's Audition

2012-01-07T17:05:00.000-08:00

Whitney also auditioned for CYT Spokane's Oklahoma and did a wonderful job.

Dakota's Audition

2012-01-07T16:50:00.000-08:00

Dakota auditioned for CYT Spokane's upcoming production of Oklahoma. He just gets better and better. I am very proud.

Endangered Cultures

2012-01-07T02:25:00.000-08:00

A brilliant TED video recommended by my friend Maggie Dale shows the wonder of cultural diversity within the 'ethnosphere,' especially among indigenous cultures. This video highlights what is lost when the forces of industrialzation overwhelm native peoples; language, culture, and a unique understanding of reality.

Thanks Maggie!

The New Year

2012-01-01T23:31:00.000-08:00

My elder once told me that the old time Indians looked at the new year like a spirit, and as each new year arrived, they always asked him to bring good things and to not leave the people in a pitifual way. This is my prayer for the new year. I didn't make any grand resolutions beyond my desire to recognize the blessings of being alive with my family and friends.

Encore

2012-01-01T23:26:00.000-08:00

My family participated in CYT's yearly Encore Encore performance at the Bing Crosby Theater. The kids got to perform select encore numbers from Music Man and Annie, and I got to be King of New York just one more time. After the show, we took a few family photographs on the stage of the theater.

We're looking forward to the upcoming shows of the New Year.

Family

2012-01-01T23:20:00.000-08:00

My sister bought a house last year, so this Christmas the family gathered for dinner in her home. We made Italian food, played games, and took the first family photo in several years. What a wonderful time!

Click on the photograph to enlarge.

Monsters

2012-01-01T23:16:00.000-08:00

Christmas and the New Year have already passed, and we take one last breath before diving back into the hectic world of work. But this Christmas season was hectic in its own way, with all the shopping, running around, visiting, and in my case, making home-made gifts.

In particular, my daughter loves Ugly Dolls. I have only ever been able to find them at Boo Radley's in downtown Spokane, along with a hundred other bizarre little items. This year, I decided to make my own monster doll. I suppose it means more when it comes from your own heart and hands.

As expected, my daughter loved this doll more than all the others.

The pattern was my own creation.

The doll was named Skalula, after a Native American monster song from the Okanogan country.

Wild Food

2011-12-11T21:55:00.000-08:00

My friend Matthew completed a rather unusual and creative project by eating only wild foods for an entire month. The challenge initially began as a way to save money on store bought food, but it expanded into a school project. He described some of his experiences on a personal blog:

http://wildfoodchallenge.blogspot.com/

A small group of supporters gathered to celebrate the conclusion of his wild food challenge. For my part, I personally support his project because of my interest in native foods and because I wish to encourage people to become more aware of their natural environment. The more we learn about the living things growing on our lands, the more we feel inclined to protect those lands.

Our menu for the evening included wild turkey, boiled amaranth seeds, venison soup cooked with home grown carrots and beets, and a cobbler made with huckleberries and apples from an abandoned, 'wild' tree, topped with a crust made from cattail flour and ground curly dock.

Choir

2011-12-11T21:37:00.000-08:00

After several years of homeschooling, Dakota has returned to the mainstream high school. So far things seem to be going well for him. Participating in the choir has made the transition a little easier.

Completion

2011-11-28T00:36:00.000-08:00

Several weeks ago, Dakota finished his eagle project. Some folks were interested in seeing the end result, so I am posting these photographs for their benefit. I have to say that things turned out well. My son has made me very proud.

Thanksgiving

2011-11-25T20:15:00.000-08:00

On Thanksgiving morning, I attended an inter-faith service at Temple Beth Shalom where representatives of several faith traditions spoke about faith, gratitude, and peace among diverse peoples. The service was sponsored by the Spokane Interfaith Council, Second Harvest of Spokane, and Temple Beth Shalom.

Rabbi Michael Goldstein led the service.

Before the service, I asked permission to take photographs inside the synagogue. The rabbi gave permission for pictures on any day, except for the Sabbath (Saturday). These prayer shawls were hanging inside the cloak room of the temple.

Sister Mary Euchrista represented the Catholic faith. It was a happy reunion for me because years ago, she completed her student teaching in my classroom at the Medicine Wheel Academy.

Mona Ali represented the Muslim community of Spokane.

Geshe-la also spoke during the ceremony and represented Tibetan Buddhism.

Hebrew writing was displayed in the temple lobby.

Mapping the Heritage

2011-11-23T16:52:00.000-08:00

My friend and co-worker Carole Parks is helping me to document the heritage plants of Drumheller Springs. Her work will partially fulfill credit for her graduate degree, but will also help prevent further encroachment upon the indigenous plants of the area.

As my readers may recall, I got involved with the preservation of Drumheller Springs after several local environmental groups planted ponderosa pine on the digging grounds once used by the Spokane Tribe. Camas, bitterroot, and other native foods were disturbed by the planting of new trees. This encounter led to a meeting with the Spokane Parks Department and the Spokane Lands Council, and as a result, the Lands Council agreed to remove the trees.

Since that time, I have been working to explore legal and institutional options to protecting the indigenous plants of Drumheller Springs.

When Carole and I visited the land this morning, some of the native plants still had visible parts that she was able to collect for her project.

We also explored some of the other nearby features, including the mural on Ash Street, painted by George Flett and company.

Many plants are still visible, despite the change in weather.

As an aside, I have always been fascinated with these white berries, even though I can't think of any practical uses. I once heard a traditional story that described these berries as the service berries of the land of the dead. Unfortunately, I was never able to locate that story again. In any case, the Spokane Language may corroborate this story to some degree. The Spokane describe these berries as "corpse berries," or tmtmniałq.

If anyone knows of any traditional stories or uses for the plant, please send me an email.

We Still Live Here

2011-11-22T00:05:00.000-08:00

We Still Live Here - As Nutayunean is a brilliant PBS documentary showing the revitalization of the Wampanoag Language of Massachusetts.

The Wampanoag are perhaps most often remembered as the people who greeted the English Pilgrims at Plymouth and saved them from starvation. In return, the English persecuted the Wampanoag, stole their lands, and actively sought the destruction of Wampanoag culture. Among Indian people in North America, these are the ones who first confronted the loss of language, indigenous identity, and traditional knowledge.

And yet the Wampanoag survived. They continue to live in communities near Cape Cod and Martha's Vineyard.

The documentary begins with Jessie Little Doe, a Wampanoag social worker, who received a dream from her ancestors. They asked if her generation was willing to reclaim the Wampanoag Language. She shared her vision with others in the tribe, and together they began a journey to reclaim their language.

As someone who cares deeply for my own language, this film both inspired and motivated me to continue my efforts to learn and to teach others.

The film is about 55 minutes long and is certainly worth an hour of your time. But you have to watch it right away - the free internet showing of this film ends on November 24. Click the following link to view the film.

http://video.pbs.org/video/2168433568#

A few quotes from the film:

Death is not permanent for languages. They can come back.

We had asked elders and spiritual leaders, “How do we regain our language?” And we were told that it’s not your language that’s lost, it’s you, and that a day will come when a child will be born and they will bring you back the language.

Annie

2011-11-09T00:30:00.000-08:00

My children are performing at the Bing Crosby Theater in CYT Spokane's musical production of Annie. In the scene above, Whitney plays one of the orphans as she interacts with Miss Hannigan.

This has been an exciting show for Whitney. She has a number of important lines and gets to wear a microphone for the first time.

Whitney with the orphans.

Dakota plays the part of Drake, who is the butler to Daddy Warbucks. In this scene, he is present when Rooster attempts to deceive Warbucks and claim Annie as his own child. In return, Rooster would receive a $50,000 reward. President Roosevelt is also present, seated in his wheel chair.

Drake the butler.

Dakota also uses a puppet on the Iodent radio show, though I was never sure why a person would need a puppet on the radio.

McKenna plays the part of a townsperson in Hooverville.

Another shot of Hooverville.

Mariah also performed in this play.

Small doses of comedy are scattered throughout the play. In this scene, Daddy Warbucks is presented with the original Mona Lisa, but he decides he doesn't like it. "Send it back!" he says.

Anthony's Wedding

2011-11-08T02:27:00.000-08:00

My foster son Anthony got married in a simple ceremony at the bride's home.

The wedding was a surprise to almost everyone in both families. For my part, I met the bride only once before, and I met her family for the first time just two hours before the young couple took their vows. Even so, Anthony had asked me to perform the ceremony and I agreed.

When the bride appeared and walked down the "aisle," Anthony beamed with happiness and then cried. And when they exchange vows, they both cried. In all the years I have known Anthony, I have only rarely seen him express emotion in this way. The ceremony was simple, but quite beautiful.

I wish Anthony and Nicki all the blessings of the Creator as they build a new life together.

Halloween

2011-10-31T21:32:00.000-07:00

My girls made their own Halloween costumes this year. McKenna was a "Borrower," a mythical, mouse-sized person from a children's story. Whitney was Cindy Lou Who from the Grinch.

We had an agreement at work to all dress up for Halloween, but ony Jessica and I remembered. For that reason, no one else gets to be on the blog today. (Ha).

Revisited

2011-10-31T21:27:00.000-07:00

Before leaving Portland, our little group had to make one last stop to Voodoo. It probably doesn't even deserve another mention, but I really liked the pictures we took. In the first picture, we actually had to wait in a long a half a block long, just to get inside. In the second picture, street performers sang a rather raucous, self-composed song with the guitar. The weirdness continues.

Keep Portland Weird

2011-10-28T11:54:00.000-07:00

Over the last 20 years, I have visited Portland dozens of times, but only recently have I begun to truly appreciate its unique character. Yesterday morning, we spent only a few hours in the downtown area, and yet I feel like I'm seeing Portland through new eyes. In short, Portland has an originality that I find deeply refreshing. It certainly has all the characteristics of any American city, but it also embraces its difference.

Of course it helps to explore a place with fabulous friends. Thanks Pamm and Jim for making this trip an awesome experience.

In our wanderings through the city, we happened upon the 24 Hour Church of Elvis set within the external wall of a building. Somehow it reminded of a mismatched conglomeration of things - part drive through window, part ATM, part carnival attraction with a liberal sprinkling of random and bizarre art.

Of course, I had to get Pamm to pose in deference to the Elvis shrine.

And me... ;)

Actually, I don't really care that much about people's devotion to Elvis, but I loved the randomness and the humor of the shrine.

Afterwards we went to Powell Books. It was amazing! I have never seen such a massive collection of books for sale anywhere in all my travels. We had to request a map just to find our way around the store, and they had almost any book imaginable.

It may sound strange, but I took a picture of these Japanese books simply because I realized that I had never seen so many Japanese books all together in one place. It just goes to show how culturally sheltered I can be in Spokane.

Across the street from Voodoo Doughnuts, we found some bizarre writing on the wall. One said, "Black honey comb... To Whom does this nightmare Bee Long?" I have no idea what it means, but I found myself intrigued by the message.

I've said before that I actually love exploring the world through the lens of a camera. It often inspires me to notice the tiny details that I might otherwise ignore, like the writing on a wall, the color of a fallen leaf, or the shape of some artistic flair on a building. As strange as it may sound, I actually use my camera as a practice in minfulness.

This sign says it all: "Keep Portland Weird."

I love it.

Voodoo

2011-10-26T22:45:00.000-07:00

Had me some voodoo this morning, and by that I mean a Voodoo Doughnut.

My co-workers and I flew into Portland, Oregon to attend the Faculty and Staff of Color Conference, but we arrived early enough to enjoy a few hours soaking in the delightful weirdness of Old Town Portland. Voodoo Doughnut is just one of several off-beat places to attract our attention.

Choosing the appropriate voodoo is not an easy task. Many of the doughnuts have unusual or unconventional names, like the Gay Bar, a doughnut decorated with 'all the colors of the rainbow,' or the Old Dirty Bastard, a doughnut sprinkled with Oreo Cookie crumbs and peanut butter.

With so many bizarre choices, I finally selected their signature creation: the Voodoo Doll, a doughnut shaped like an actual doll. This doughnut includes a straight pretzel that can be used for stabbing and causing the doll to 'bleed' a red raspberry filling. The whole concept is just a little creepy, but certainly more original and entertaining than most other places.

Now that I've tasted Voodoo, doughnuts will never be the same. This will become a personal pilgrimage site for sure every time I return to Portland.

Shadows and Creativity

2011-10-25T23:09:00.000-07:00

I've been remiss for neglecting my blog. Actually, I've been more hectic than usual - attending meetings, writing lesson plans, traveling to other cities and communities - you name it, and somewhere in the midst of my busy schedule, blogging became a burden. Nothing kills creativity like a nagging sense of obligation.

But oddly tonight, I had a few moments to reflect.

Several weeks ago, I attended an educational workshop at Clover Park Technical College in Tacoma, WA. As the meeting ended, I had a few minutes to explore the community and to take a few pictures.

I feel a certain sense of freedom when I can temporarily forget my obligations and simply follow my feet. I parked my rental car in downtown Tacoma and just started walking in the first direction that caught my attention. In time, the scenery revealed itself in a natural, organic sort of way - like when I encountered a totem pole standing near a glass high rise office building. Something about the contrast of ancient and modern structures forced me to reflect upon the role of indigenous traditions within contemporary society.

Eventually, I found myself on a rather pleasant street lined with coffee shops and art galleries. These chairs were arranged outside an antique store.

The City of Tacoma has preserved much of its architectural heritage.

I also happened upon a very unusual place called "The Garages." Essentially, the building functions as a municipal parking garage with a twist: the entire structure is covered both inside and out with intentional graffiti.

It's hard to imagine that people would actually park their cars on these old wooden floors, but indeed they did.

Placards were posted in various locations to provide guidelines for when people could paint the walls and when they could not.

"The Barry" (for those who care). ;)

A standard receptacle for collecting parking fees stands outside the garage.

My mind often works in strange ways. As I explored the various graffiti installations, I got to thinking about what some folks call the "human shadow." In essence, the shadow is comprised of all the parts of our personality that remain hidden from oneself. Often times people keep 'undesireable' parts of themselves hidden in the shadow, either intentionally or otherwise. In any case, the more people repress the shadow, the more it tends to cause problems. A healthy individual finds ways to acknowledge and even honor the shadow, and as Robert Bly once said, "Every part of our personality that we do not love will become hostile to us." That's not to say that we should give free rein to every awkward, angry, or unseemly impulse, but rather, we should find ways to respect every part of ourselves. By doing this, we are able to access deep wells of energy and creativity.

Anti-Columbus Day

2011-10-11T23:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday evening, I participated in a most unusual celebration. A small group of Whitworth undergrads invited me to observe Anti-Columbus Day by giving a lecture on Native American issues. When I arrived, the students were making fry bread from a recipe they found online. Earlier that evening, they had played an adapted version of an ancient Mesoamerican ball game - also found online. They freely admitted that they possessed very little direct knowledge of Native people, but their sincere desire to learn inspired me.

I spoke about the history of the Spokane Tribe without whitewashing the inconvenient details of the American conquest. I spoke about Colonel George Wright and the horse slaughter, the boarding schools and sexual abuse, and many other other unfortunate aspects of history. After all, these stories belong to the long-term legacy of Columbus. But I also spoke of courage, dignity, and the will of Indian cultures to survive into the next 500 years and beyond.

No doubt, I shared some difficult stories, but these young students listened with deep interest and respect. They give me hope for a more equitable future in this country.

Not long after I spoke to the Whitworth students, I found quite a compelling TED video by Aaron Huey regarding the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Usually I don't forward videos, but this one deserves to be seen by a wide audience.

McKenna

2011-10-07T01:52:00.000-07:00

My daughter McKenna recently celebrated her 14th birthday in a simple family gathering in our home. Her brother made a magnificent cake from a recipe he learned on youtube and her cousin gave her a wonderful card home made card. It was a beautiful day for all of us.

Catch Up

2011-10-05T01:12:00.000-07:00

At the end of summer quarter, I took a month-long break from work. Actually, I would have worked right through my vacation, but the budget just did not accommodate my particular needs. Despite losing my normal income during that month, I decided to take a positive outlook and to enjoy my time away from the classroom. I had hoped to find some prolonged relaxation, but it seems all the free time simply added to my responsibilities. Meetings appeared unexpectedly on my calendar in different places around the state, and my leisure time quickly evaporated. Unfortunately, my blogging suffered the most.

Oddly enough, my regular work schedule has basically returned to normal, but I find myself more able to accomplish things than before. My routine has been revived and now I'm breathing normal again. Weird, I know.

So now to catch up on my blog...

A few random pictures can show what has been missed over the last few weeks. My youngest daughter has begun middle school and now all of my children have officially abandoned the grade school stage of life. Admittedly, I feel very strange knowing that two of my children attend the same middle school, and my oldest child is only a couple years away from graduation.

In these first few pictures, my daughters (and a friend) are dressed in bright colors for a middle school 'spirit day.'

Toward the end of summer, my son and I hiked to the waterfalls by the Little Spokane River and just happened to catch that magical moment when the sun casts a warm golden light over everything. I insisted that he pose for at least one picture under one of my favorite juniper trees.

As we continued hiking, the sun began to set behind the trees, casting long rays of light through the tree branches.

Snake

2011-10-03T22:04:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, we saw a baby snake slithering on the sidewalk just outside the entrance of the school. Some students noticed and walked a wide circle to avoid it, but others were oblivious to the potential danger and almost stepped on it. The snake measured less than six inches long, and yet it showed an aggressive disposition by shaking its tail and striking at bypassers like a rattle snake. I didn't notice any rattles on the tail, but just to be sure, we captured the snake under a plastic container and removed it far away from people.

Afterwards, I compared the photograph with online descriptions of local snakes. Turns out it was probably a gopher snake or a bull snake, but not a rattler. Even so, it sure put on a good show.

Gerald

2011-09-14T00:10:00.000-07:00

It has taken me a while to write this post, mostly because it forces me to address a topic that has brought suffering to my family for more than 50 years - longer than I've been alive. While I would never wish to cause pain for anyone, especially my family, I realize that we can never fully escape the truth of our beginnings. On some level, this story has to be told.

So here's the essential piece: a couple months ago, I discovered that I have an aunt and several cousins through my mother's father Gerald Nichols. I'm sad to say that I had no idea they even existed, so this news was a total surprise.

Some background information may help:

When I was a child, I had no knowledge whatsoever regarding my grandfather - my mother's father. One time, when I was around the age of nine or ten, I asked my mom directly, "Why don't I have a grandpa?"

She looked sad and slightly distant as she said, "Your grandfather died many years ago."

Her explanation made sense, so I had no reason to ask again. But several years later, when I was about sixteen, I came home from school one day and my mother said, "Your grandpa's in town. We're going to see him."

I was confused and said, "I thought you told me that your father died."

Her voice had a bitter edge as she responded, "He was dead - to me."

So in my sixteenth year, I saw my grandfather raised from the dead - at least figuratively. I had no preconceived notion regarding his appearance. I don't think I had even seen a photograph, but I was still a little surprised that he reminded me of homeless, moonshine Santa Claus. He had a long white beard and a pot belly. He also wore a pair of dirty overalls, and if I remember correctly, he was intoxicated the day we met. Our visit was pleasant enough, but after he left Spokane, I never saw him again. We had a relationship that lasted all of two days.

Unfortunately, my mother and her siblings had a miserable reunion with their father.

When long deceased family members reappear, questions are bound to arise. My mother finally explained that when she was only eleven years old, her father left the home and never came back. They were living in Saint Louis, Missouri at the time, and apparently my grandfather fell in love with a woman down the street and left my grandmother with seven children. Destitute and alone, my grandmother bundled the kids in their warm coats and boarded a train for Spokane. That was the winter of 1963.

Ten or fifteen years after his first and last visit to Spokane, I heard that my grandfather died - this time for real, and so I thought the story was over.

But then a couple months ago, I learned that my grandfather had a daughter with his second wife - the so-called "other woman" from down the street. Of course, the whole thing made perfect sense; it's just that I had no idea. My grandfather's daughter, my aunt, contacted me through Facebook. She and I have begun forming a relationship and in many ways, she has helped me to make sense of our painful family history. In fact, she sent me all of the photographs in this post, along with several others. I am very thankful for her willingness to reach out to me.

I have no anger or bad feelings for my grandfather. I cannot pass judgment regarding his choices in life, but I am still a little sad for my mom. My hope is that healing may come from building positive relationships with our "new" family members.

Note: Please click on any photographs to see a full-size image.

My grandfather Gerald as a young boy,
standing with his father Donald Nichols.

My grandfather was in the Navy,
or perhaps the Coast Guard.

Gerald's mother Elsa Fahrendorff standing with
her second husband Arthur M. Stewart.

The Eagle Project

2011-09-13T02:25:00.000-07:00

Dakota began the first phase of his eagle project by demolishing the old wall surrounding the lodge. A group of fellow scouts, along with several adult leaders assisted in the project.

After the old structure was removed, the land was cleared and measured for a new wall.

Mixing concrete for the new fence posts.

Setting the new fence posts.

Powwow

2011-09-05T17:41:00.000-07:00

This weekend I attended the annual Labor Day Powwow in Wellpinit, Washington.

During Grand Entry, the drum beat filled the air and hundreds of dancers surrounded me on all sides. No matter how many times I dance, I'm always amazed by the power of that moment. Every Grand Entry feels like a victory in its own right - a powerful declaration that we as Indian people are still here.

The young people led Grand Entry during one of the sessions and reminded of the words my elders gave me a few years ago:

qe uł t seqelixʷ.
We are Indian people.

pentč u qe lʔe. pentč u qeqs lʔehi.
We have always been here. We will always be here.

Middle School

2011-09-01T21:04:00.000-07:00

My youngest daughter attended an open house at her new middle school. Man, it is so hard to believe that our baby is going into the seventh grade. Where did the time go?

The Sacred Name

2011-09-01T02:00:00.000-07:00

The grandparents spent their last day in Spokane with my daughters and some of the cousins. We had hoped to play tennis at Spokane Falls, but the courts were closed due to re-surfacing. We ended up walking instead through the Mukogawa campus, and eventually arrived at Saint Michael's Mission.

From what I understand, the building once stood at Peone Prairie as a mission to my ancestors of the Spokane Tribe, but I'm not sure why they moved the building. I'm not even sure if anyone uses that building anymore.

Someone asked about the meaning of the initials "IHS" above the door. I attempted an answer and was correct in saying that the "I" stood for Jesus, but I was mistaken in saying that the initials had some reference to the Sacred Heart. The Catholic Encyclopedia says that the name of Jesus was written as IHESUS during the Middle Ages. It was once a common practice to abbreviate the name using the letters IHS; therefore, the name Jesus appears literally on the wall of the church, just below the cross.

In a strange way, this seemingly minor experience got me to thinking about the names we use for one another within our homes. I can think of no more sacred names than mother, father, son, or daughter.

Fundraiser

2011-08-30T16:18:00.000-07:00

Dakota's fundraiser was an amazing success.

He called upon his many talented friends and organized more than twenty performances that included vocals, piano, dance, guitar, and even a saxophone solo. I expected to see a good show, but I was unprepared for how good it actually turned out to be. The audience felt the same way. Afterwards, people were almost giddy with excitement as they heaped praises on Dakota and all the performers.

These are just a few of the pictures from the concert.

Big Heart

2011-08-30T15:58:00.000-07:00

Dakota organized an amazing fundraiser for his eagle project, but I'll talk more about that soon.

In preparation for the event, I wrote a short prayer in the Spokane language. I had everything planned and translated to English, but I was unsure how to express one certain concept. I wanted to say, "I am proud of my son," so I called two Spokane tribal elders and ultimately received an important lesson in tradition.

The first elder called back and said, "The Spokane Dictionary says that 'pride' is: hi q̓exʷ, but I don't like that word. It sounds like 'arrogance.' In the old way, we should never be proud because we're not better than anyone else."

She suggested two alternatives:

nkʷtnels łuʔ isqʷseʔ x̣ʷl hec čnšitms łuʔ sqelixʷ.

(My son has a big heart because he helps the people).

kʷtunt łuʔ ispuʔus x̣ʷl isqʷseʔ.

(My heart is big for my son).

In the end, my elder said that we should not be 'arrogant' for our children, but rather have hearts that are big with thankfulness and love. This is a critical difference in both culture and language.

A little while later, my other elder called. She also avoided making any reference to pride, but instead suggested another big-hearted idea. She said:

hiqs npúteʔem łuʔ isqʷseʔ.

(I will honor my son).

When I prayed during Dakota's fundraiser, I used both phrases.

The concept of big-heartedness runs deep in my memory. It reminds me, for example, of the time I saw my yaya Messie after my parents divorced. I had been away from the reservation for a couple years, and when she saw me again, she dropped everything, wrapped her arms around me, and wept. She showed me a fullness and generosity of spirit that I have only rarely felt since. Her feelings for me harbored no conditions, judgments, or reservations - just pure soul-filled love. Sometimes I imagine that heaven must feel like that.

Ironically, my elders almost never used the word 'love,' but instead they lived it.

When I look at my daughters, I also feel the same big-hearted love. I hope they will always carry my spirit the way I carry the spirit of my elders.

Dakota

2011-08-28T23:16:00.001-07:00

Dakota's solo.

Seize the Day Reprise

2011-08-28T22:26:00.000-07:00

"Seize the Day Reprise" from CYT Spokane's Newsies Review.

King of New York

2011-08-28T22:21:00.000-07:00

"King of New York" from CYT Spokane's production of Newsies Review.

The World Will Know

2011-08-28T22:15:00.000-07:00

"The World Will Know" from CYT Spokane's production of Newsies Review.

Santa Fe

2011-08-28T22:10:00.001-07:00

"Santa Fe" from CYT Spokane's production of Newsies Review.

Carrying the Banner

2011-08-28T22:05:00.000-07:00

"Carrying the Banner" from CYT Spokane's production of Newsies Review.

Healing

2011-08-27T22:59:00.000-07:00

Vickie Downey of the Tesuque Pueblo spoke to a small gathering of friends near Vision Mountain and addressed the topic of ancestral healing. She said that many of our young people today carry the burdens of previous generations without knowing the history of trauma and grief. We have a responsibility to care for ourselves and then reach out to support the healing of others.

My friend Francesca helped organize the meeting.

Eva Boyd also spoke.

Newsies Review

2011-08-26T22:13:00.000-07:00

CYT Spokane is scheduled to perform a selection of songs from the Broadway musical Newsies as part of its yearly "show in a week." The entire production happens in less than seven days, from beginning to end, including the audition, the rehearsals, and the final performance. And what a hectic and exhilerating experience it has been to learn all the songs in just a few days! It is going to be awesome.

My family will all perform. Dakota will sing a solo in "Seize the Day." Rhonda will sing a solo in "Raise the Banner," and I will sing a solo in "King of New York."

The CYT Newsies Review will play at the Bing Crosby Theater this Sunday at 4:00 pm. Tickets are free, so bring your family down to see the show.

Unnamed

2011-08-25T23:18:00.000-07:00

The Spokesman-Review published a short article regarding the dedication of the new Chief Spokane Garry monument. The reporter photographed several tribal members as we sang an honor song at the drum.

Oddly, the caption named several of the spectators, but not the drummers. This omission reminds me of a journalistic practice from a different age - a different century when white photographers rarely felt the need to mention the names of Native American subjects. Instead, they wrote captions like, "Indian man riding a horse," or "Indian woman with baby." Many of our ancestors may have posed for one portrait or another, but they were unnamed and forgotten as individuals - valued only for their image.

And just for the record, I don't really care about receiving any personal 'credit,' but I am concerned about reporting practices that make people invisible.

Chief Garry

2011-08-24T22:51:00.000-07:00

Spokane tribal members and city residents witnessed an historic dedication of a new monument at Chief Garry Park. The original monument had been defaced, but after a three year effort, members of the community collaborated to create a suitable replacement.

Susan Garry and Theresa Williams are descendants of Garry who offered inspirational tributes to the life of our former chief.

Susan Garry reminded us that we are entering into the bicentennial of Chief Garry's birth.

Spokane mayor Mary Verner spoke during the dedication ceremony.

Spokane Tribal Chairman Greg Abrahamson also spoke.

My uncle Pat Moses prayed during the dedication.

Participants view the monument after the dedication.

Priest Lake

2011-08-24T22:11:00.000-07:00

Last week my family stayed at a friend's cabin near Priest Lake, Idaho. More than anything, my kids enjoyed the beach at Lion Head Campground - they took in the sun, built sand castles, and practiced swimming.

Whitney the mermaid...

Dakota at the beach...

The mountains stood like monoliths above the forest.

Paul and I hiked to a waterfall with Mariah and London.

Mariah and London admired the falls.

Canoeing

2011-08-14T15:07:00.000-07:00

Dakota and Whitney enjoyed a day of canoeing with their grandfather on the Little Spokane River.

The Little Spokane River passes by the Saint George's campus.

These are beautiful summer days.

Cultural Restoration

2011-08-12T12:27:00.000-07:00

My son Dakota is planning a cultural restoration project on the Spokane Indian Reservation. The project will help him earn his eagle scout, but more important, it will restore the structure surrounding my uncle's lodge.

In many ways, the lodge belongs to the whole community. People from many reservations seek spiritual guidance in this place. They also visit from many countries - Canada, Japan, Germany, Ecuador, New Zealand, Israel, and others. My uncle's lodge is open to the world.

However, the old structure is collapsing under the effects of age and weather. Dakota will replace the wall surrounding the fire pit and rebuild the storage shed for the firewood.

Dakota has organized a benefit concert to raise all the money for lumber and other needed materials. He has enlisted a talented group of young people to perform a variety of musical numbers that will include singing, piano, and dance.

The concert is scheduled at the Lincoln Center on Monday, August 29 from 7:00 pm to 10:00 pm. Tickets are $5 if purchased in advance or $8 at the door.

If you would like to purchase tickets or make a donation, please call Dakota at (509) 868-5510.

Salish Lesson

2011-08-10T13:54:00.000-07:00

Last week, I took a small day trip to the mountains above Twin Lakes, Washington. My relatives and I enjoyed the clear, sunny day, surrounded by mountains, bright yellow flowers, and hucklberries.

I spent most of the day with my great aunt, who is fluent in the Spokane Language. At the beginning of the day, she gave me a spontaneous and somewhat humorous language lesson.

The lesson happened like this:

We were packing the car with everything we needed for our trip to the mountains, and I had gathered quite an armload of assorted items - a cooler filled with food, a lawn chair, long pants for hiking in the underbrush, and bug spray. My aunt helped me organize the items in the car, and at the very end, when my hands were nearly empty, I stood there holding a single shoe. "How did this get here?" I asked, "I don't even remember packing it." Clearly, the shoe did not belong with the other items.

She looked at me for a moment and just laughed. Without any prompting, she reacted in Salish, "hayo... ha kʷec nqʷawqni?" Then I laughed with her.

It was interesting that I had never actually learned this particular word, but I knew enough about Salish grammar to understand her meaning. Later in the day, I asked about it and confirmed my theory.

So here's the grammar:

The root word of this phrase is qʷaw, meaning crazy.

The prefix is n-, which suggests that something is inside.

The suffix is -qn, which has reference to the head.

All together, we get the word nqʷawqn - literally "crazy in the head."

Her full statement was, "hayo... ha kʷec nqʷawqni?" or in other words, "My goodness.... are you crazy in the head?"

The Relics

2011-08-07T18:16:00.000-07:00

The Unity Church of Spokane recently hosted a display of sacred Buddhist objects, including relics from the historical Buddha, Siddhartha Guatama. Afterwards, they sponsored an interfaith service from various religious traditions where I had the opportunity to represent Native American traditions.

Offerings of candles and water for the Dalai Lama.

A young monk held a small stupa containing the relics of Siddhartha Gautama.

When Buddhist holy people are cremated, they often find small pearl-like objects within the ashes. These relics are preserved by the faithful.

A monk blessed an eagle feather with the remains of the Buddha.

Karaoke

2011-08-07T14:04:00.000-07:00

The Summer Institute for Intercultural Communication was a powerful and transformative experience, but sometimes my head hurt from all the deep thinking. Fortunately, SIIC also gave us an opportunity to laugh and have fun. On Thursday, we all gathered for a night of dancing and karaoke. I would have been happy to just socialize and observe, but Pamm and I got pulled into singing a positively awful rendition of Love Shack by the B52s. By the way, this picture shows me straining to hit the high notes of the song (I had no idea the notes were so high until I actually had to sing them in public).Thank goodness no one seemed to mind the musical quality of our performance. Everyone danced like it was the best song they ever heard.

Reed College

2011-08-07T11:30:00.000-07:00

Reed College in Portland, Oregon is a beautiful place. The campus embodies the tradition of its one hundred year history, but it also exemplifies progressive ideals. The school's culture supports an attitude of mindfulness toward others and the environment.

All throughout campus, I found visual reminders to pause and appreciate the beauty of life. In one instance, I found a literal sign telling drivers to "slow down, observe, & enjoy."

A beautiful lake sits at the heart of the campus, surrounded by wildlife, trees, and hiking trails.

Several bridges cross the river and connect both sides of campus. I'm told that this particular bridge was constructed without disturbing the trees. That's why the bridge does not cross in a straight line. Even the architecture is a subtle reminder to slow down.

The Portland area supports a strong bicycle culture.

A storm drain reminds people that our actions affect others. What we dump in one location can harm living things someplace else.

"To be truly radical is to make hope possible rather than despair convincing."

Seaside

2011-08-04T22:29:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday afternoon, Pamm and I had the chance to escape all the deep thoughts of intercultural communication and enjoy a few moments of calm on the beach of Seaside, Oregon.

Lewis and Clark stand in a heroic pose while the American flag flutters atop a high priced condominium. I suppose they achieved their goal after all, not just to explore the west, but to open the continent for American domination. Sacajawea hardly even made an appearance on this monument, despite the fact that the company dog was also featured bigger-than-life at the feet of the two explorers.

We would have loved to spend more time on the beach, but we had to rush back to Portland to meet with the phantom manager of the Chinese restaurant (mentioned in the previous post).

Chinatown

2011-08-04T10:53:00.000-07:00

We arrived at the Summer Institute for Intercultural Communication on a Sunday, before classes began. That evening we had free time, so we drove to Portland's Chinatown for dinner.

We had no idea that a simple dinner would itself become an exercise in cross cultural communication.

This story requires me to make one small confession. We paid for the dinner with the corporate credit card, but apparently we were not allowed to use the card for meals. It was an innocent mistake on my part; I had never used the corporate card, and no one explained the rules before we left Spokane. In any case, after I made the charge, someone called from the central office and informed me of the problem. I was told to go back to the restaurant and ask them to reverse the charge. We would then have to pay with our own money.

The task seemed simple enough.

But when we arrived for a second time at the Chinese restaurant, we discovered that the hostess spoke very limited English. The simple act of explaining our dilemma became a monumental task in linguistic gymnastics as I attempted to explain a complex financial concept using pantomime and as many word variations as possible. The language barrier proved too great to overcome. She asked us to return at a later time to speak with the manager.

We returned at the appointed time, only to find the manager was no where to be found. The hostess asked to to come back yet again and assured us, "For sure next time..."

The "next time" proved equally disappointing and frustrating. The manager never did make an appearance and the charge was never reversed. During our last visit to the restaurant, a second woman attempted to help us. She spoke English a little better than the other, but we could not convince her that the bank would be willing to reverse the charge, even if we paid cash. She shook her head and repeated several times, "It's too late."

I shifted strategies somewhat and attempted to explain all the difficulties that would befall us if we failed to reverse the charge. She listened very patiently and finally said, "Oh, that's too bad for you. Come back tomorrow when the manager is here."

The next day we decided to call. Just as we feared, the manager never did show up to work. In fact, we began to suspect that the manager didn't exist. Fortunately, we were able to resolve the issue through our central office, so we never went back.

But since that time, I have reflected on how the experience could have been different. For one thing, the language barrier was a very real obstacle to communication. We probably also encountered cultural differences that were invisible to us, but would perhaps be obvious to an outside observer. In all our struggling, I never thought to enlist the assistance of a cultural mediator. In fact, one of my fellow classmates worked for an international corporation in Beijing and may have been able to help us bridge the communication gap.

In hindsight, this experience highlights the importance of people with expertise in intercultural communication. Sometimes we encounter people who think they don't have time for multiculturalism. They say it doesn't affect their end product or their numbers, and yet this experience shows that multicultural understanding may have very well saved our bottom line.

The Portland Chinatown Gate.

A local Chinese newspaper.

Intercultural Communication

2011-08-02T20:21:00.000-07:00

I'm still catching up on my old blog posts...

Last week, my employer sent me to the Summer Institute for Intercultural Communication, based on the Reed College campus in Portland, Oregon. What an amazing experience! I've been to many professional conferences throughout my teaching career, but this one stands far above the others because of its ability to inspire transformation and change. The Summer Institute offered a wide variety of workshops, but I spent five days learning how to support people as they learn to communicate across cultures.

During our visit to the Reed College campus, we stayed in the student dorms. The Summer Institute staff took the time to decorate the dorms with flowers and photographs from around the world.

Reed College is 100 years old, so much of the architecture reflects a much older style. This detailed stone work has a Latin inscription: non ministrari sed ministrare (not to be ministered unto, but to minister).

We ate all our meals in the Reed College cafeteria. In the adjoining hallway, a large mural adds color to the campus. This piece shows part of a larger work titled "An eruption of people hungry for their souls," by Tessa Hulls, 2007.

A spider web reflected the sunlight outside one of the old campus buildings.

Yoyot

2011-07-31T22:26:00.000-07:00

I've been away from the Blogosphere for about ten days. Actually, I've been exceptionally busy living my life, rather than just writing about it, but more on that later...

More than a week ago, I promised my niece and nephew that I would post these pictures with my aunt's horse Yoyot (Strong). We took a few dozen pictures that day, but these were my favorites.

Patrick got to be the expert horseman for a day.

The Remedy

2011-07-21T23:37:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, my friend Tony said something quite profound.

I happened to mention that I've recently felt a vague sense of depression creeping back into my life. Tony listened to my worries and reminded me that several days before, he observed me photographing wild flowers. He then said, "I know you sometimes struggle with depression, but I was happy to see you taking pictures of the flowers. When people are trapped inside a deep depression, they can't even see the flowers. But you see them, and that lets me know you're going to be okay."

Yes, beauty is a remedy for sadness.

Dream

2011-07-19T23:31:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, I had a dream that affected me deeply.

In my dream, I attended a family gathering where several people were fighting with one another. I spoke to them about forgiveness, but nothing seemed to change their anger. One of my deceased relatives observed the argument, along with my attempt to make peace. She took me aside and said, "Sometimes what looks like anger is really a broken heart."

Since my dream, I've reflected on those words as they apply to real life. They most certainly apply to the actual relationships from my dream, but they also apply to other areas of life. This dream reminds me that things aren't always as they appear.

Dakota Sunset

2011-07-18T22:43:00.000-07:00

Nothing profound to blog this evening,

just a few cool pictures from Dakota and yesterday's sunset.

Time Capsule

2011-07-17T21:48:00.000-07:00

As I was going through some old things, I found a disposable camera from 2003 - like a miniature time capsule. These pictures were my favorites.

Dakota's Got Talent

2011-07-16T23:09:00.000-07:00

Dakota was a finalist in CYT's Got Talent as part of this year's national HYPE conference in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. Once again, he performed Feeling Good and the judges gave some awesome feedback. One judge even called Dakota "Frank Sinatra reincarnated."

skʷkʷec sp'qniʔ

2011-07-15T00:41:00.000-07:00

skʷkʷec sp'qniʔ

Lights

2011-07-13T13:11:00.000-07:00

Three of us left work at the same time - Carole, Pamm, and I. Just as we opened the front door of the school, a burst of golden light greeted us from the sunset. Pamm said to Carole and me, "You guys should take a picture," and without missing a beat, we both reached for our cameras and did just that. Pamm laughed and said, "I was only joking!" But what did she expect? I carry a camera almost everywhere specifically for moments like this.

And then Pamm said, "I expect to see these pictures on Facebook." Of course, I have to agree.

This tree seemed to divide the heat of the sunset from the cool rain clouds that had begun to cover the sky.

The same tree from a different angle.

The sunset rainbow was the finale and certainly the best part of the amazing nature light show from yesterday evening.

Ghost

2011-07-11T21:29:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, I remember seeing double exposure film that created an otherworldly effect where the people looked like ghosts. I always wanted to create my own "ghost" images, but we could never get my camera to expose the film twice. All these many years later, my daughter and I visited the cemetery on a whim to attempt a similar effect, but instead of double exposed film, we took multiple shots of the same location using a tripod. I then edited the photographs using Gimp.

"Show No Fear..."

At the cemetery...

My daughter is a big fan of the "Ghost Whisperer," so she thoroughly enjoyed being a ghost-model for a day.

Click on images to enlarge.

Spokane

2011-07-11T00:23:00.000-07:00

A view of downtown Spokane at sunset,
taken from the ridge above Indian Canyon.

Jungle

2011-07-10T04:10:00.000-07:00

Indian Canyon is like a world unto itself, especially near the waterfall. The land above the canyon is like any other place in the Spokane area, mostly dry or semi-arid, with ponderosa pine growing like over-sized weeds. However, the canyon itself shelters an abundance of flowers, green shrubs, and aquatic plants. In some places, the trail resembled a tunnel beneath a living canopy of branches and leaves. As we explored the trail nearest the stream, Dakota said, "This place looks like a jungle in Peru." I almost have to agree.

The most amazing part about Indian Canyon is its proximity to downtown Spokane. It's like an oasis hidden just beyond the city's view.

In the jungle...

Chief Garry Campsite

2011-07-09T22:40:00.000-07:00

We went back to Indian Canyon a second day to find the Chief Spokane Garry campsite. As it turns out, we stopped only a few yards away when we turned back before.

A large sign is clearly visible from the main road. It reads:

1811-1891

Spokan Garry

Born to a chief and orphaned at 11, Garry was taught by missionaries to aid in fur trading. He was a teacher, a leader, a hunter, and a peacemaker. Always the white man's friend, he was refused citizenship, burned off his land, deprived of his earthly goods, and finally his dignity by the white man. He died here a lonely unwanted person in the land of his birth and the land he loved. Garry and his wife Nina are buried in Greenwood cemetery.

The second sign marks the actual campsite, but it was a little more difficult to find. The sign was hidden in the trees, away from the trail.

Indian Canyon

2011-07-08T23:59:00.000-07:00

My daughter and I visited Indian Canyon where Chief Spokane Garry was said to have camped until his death in 1892. We looked for some historical marker to indicate the camp site, but found none. Perhaps we looked in the wrong the location. In any case, the site is now maintained in a mostly natural state, with equestrian access, hiking trails, and scenic overlooks.

As we arrived, Whitney stopped to admire a fireweed plant (epilobium angustifolium) growing near the trailhead.

We hiked only a few hundred yards until we saw the waterfall flowing within a small canyon. Several small trails lead to the base of the falls. We enjoyed the walk, but in the future, I will remember to wear shoes with better traction. The trails are very steep, with a fair amount of loose dirt and gravel.

But the area near the base of falls is like another world, beautiful and green.

Whitney standing beneath the falls.

Several small caves create openings in the basalt cliff.

Whitney overlooking the canyon.

As we left Indian Canyon, Whitney paused to photograph a bachelor's button (Centaurea cyanus); she is my daughter, after all. This particular flower is a non-native species, but it's quite beautiful and is my mom's favorite.

Fire

2011-07-06T22:17:00.000-07:00

This is the second year we went to Stevens County for the 4th of July - a place where fireworks are still legal, and where my friend John purchased over $400 worth of rockets, fountains, and other exploding things. I suppose it's worth the trip to hang out with friends, eat barbecued hamburgers, and watch someone else burn their money.

Almost equally entertaining, I got to experiment with taking pictures of the fireworks with different shutter speeds. A few of the pictures turned out with some interesting effects.

The first picture is actually one of my favorites, though it's certainly less exciting from the standpoint of the light show. The exposure time was 15 seconds, but John had a hard time lighting the rocket, so the picture looks like him sitting still by a small campfire. It reminds me of the primal fascination with fire we most certainly inherited from our first ancestors.

This picture reminds me of a lightning blast hitting the earth.

In this picture, multiple strikes hit the same spot at once.

In this picture, I can almost picture a fire breathing dragon just below the field of vision.

Roman candles...

This one reminds me of a volcano.

Flowers

2011-07-04T00:06:00.000-07:00

Summer has finally arrived, bringing the welcome return of hot, sunny days. My only regret is that all the spring flowers are withering in the heat - gone to sleep for another year.

Camas

2011-06-30T22:01:00.000-07:00

Camas - itx̣ʷe - Cammassia quamash

Feeling Good

2011-06-29T01:34:00.000-07:00

Dakota recently performed a powerful rendition of Feeling Good at his grandmother's 70th birthday party. His vocal quality just keeps getting better. Watch the video below and judge for yourself:

Wildflowers

2011-06-27T22:20:00.000-07:00

I love wildflowers. They follow their own seasons apart from the demands of human timetables. But they also stand as markers within the natural cycle of life. If we pay attention, they orient our lives to the subtle progression of earth-changes. They offer yet another window into deep nature awareness.

These particular flowers have all presented themselves to me within the last few weeks.

Wild roses...

Some kind of wild daisy...

A yarrow flower catches the sunset.

A wild iris...

Pit Oven

2011-06-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

Over the last few weeks, my family has gathered Indian food - black moss, brown camas, and wild onions - to cook in a traditional pit oven. This is the second year we've done this as a family, apart from the community culture camp. In the big picture, we're all still 'students' of the old ways, but I have to say that connecting to these ancestral technologies is a very fulfilling experience.

My family once used this method of cooking as a central part of their livelihood, but the practice has since fallen by the wayside of history. My great grandmother Lizzie Homer Moses was pit cooking at their home on Reservation Road until the early 1960s, possibly as late as 1964. My grandfather's family used this process until the 1970s. My friend Francis also remembers cooking for his grandmother until the 1970s.

Pit cooking was revived five years ago as part of the Wellpinit School culture week. And then last year my family also returned to this method of food preparation.

It was important for me to involve my children. They participated as we prepared the food and dug the pits. They also observed all the various stages of the cooking process. Perhaps someday they will come to appreciate the beauty of this experience and then teach their children.

This process is an important part of our spirituality. This aspect of the process is intensely personal, and I might not even share this fact, except that I see an urgent need for our communities to re-connect to nature and earth-based processes. We have become so dependent on modern comforts and technologies that we are slowly disconnecting from one another and from ourselves. A great many social maladies are healed when we simply get our hands dirty and work together in nature. Over a period of three days, this simple earth oven brought together dozens of individuals, children, and elders within a common cultural experience. Families were strengthened and our connection to the earth was deepened.

Cleaning the moss. Wild onions are visible inside the yellow bin.

The children also helped clean the moss.

The food was bundled inside cotton cloth just prior to being placed in the oven.

The camas in its raw state is white with onion-like layers.

The cooked camas turns sweet and dark brown.

Camas

2011-06-26T13:20:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday, my friend and I dug camas near Spangle, Washington, in a place where my family has harvested roots for generations and has maintained a positive relationship with two generations of landowners. I only recently came to discover that place, but I have fallen in love with beauty and history of the plants.

When we arrived, we were greeted by mulesear sunflowers in full bloom (Wyethia amplexicaulis).

A lone whitetail deer walked toward us, seemingly undisturbed by our presence.

It was a beautiful, perfect day for gathering camas.

Found

2011-06-25T10:59:00.000-07:00

My small camera was misplaced several weeks ago, but yesterday I found it again. In a way, I enjoy finding my camera after a long time away; it's almost like a miniature time capsule. These images were on the memory card.

Patrick and Dena took me to a new place to dig bitterroots.

I visited Little Falls with my friend Tim.

That same day, we found a patch of arnica flowers that had turned white like dandelions.

Father's Day

2011-06-19T23:24:00.000-07:00

I still miss you...

Graduation

2011-06-19T10:19:00.000-07:00

The 2011 IEL graduation with Jessica, Carole, and Pamm.

Gathering Moss

2011-06-19T01:14:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, our Salish class convened in a grove of tamarack trees to gather black moss.

The day began with a light drizzle, but by the end of the afternoon, the blue sky appeared.

We took turns pulling the moss with a long hook.

After collecting the moss from the trees, we all stood together and cleaned the moss from the fallen branches.

The goal of our class was to continue the tradition of our ancestors, but we also enjoyed a few light-hearted moments of joking and laughter.

Firefly

2011-06-18T21:30:00.000-07:00

My nieces Melanie, McKenzie, and Madelyn have their own band, Firefly. Based in Gilbert, Arizona, they have opened for Martina McBride and LeAnn Rimes. They have also performed a preshow for Justin Bieber. They recently performed a free concert in Spokane for their grandmother's 70th birthday.

This video is a tribute to fathers.

Sand Mandala

2011-06-12T18:39:00.000-07:00

Part Two

The monks destroyed the sand mandala as a metaphor of the impermanence of life, then distributed half the sand to the audience. The other half is traditionally poured into a nearby body of water. In this case, the monks went to the Spokane River and deposited the sand into the falls near Canada Island.

On the left side of this image is the Venerable Tenzin Thinlay who acted as translator.

As part of the ceremony, prayers were offered in the Spokane language to respect the ancestors and the river.

Ven. Tritul Jampa Kalden poured the sand into the river.

Sand Mandala

2011-06-11T23:51:00.001-07:00

Part One

The Unity Church of Spokane hosted the creation of a sand mandala by a travelling group of Tibetan monks.

"Sand Mandalas are unique to the Tibetan culture, they are believed to affect purification and healing. They are created by hand and embody traditional meditative designs that represent the universal qualities of harmony, balance, community, and pure wisdom."

There are many types of mandalas, but this particular design is known as the Mandala of Compassion.

"In general all mandalas have outer, inner, and secret meanings. On the outer level, they represent the world in its divine form; on the inner level they represent a map by which the ordinary human mind is transformed into enlightened mind; and on the secret level they depict the primordially perfect balance of the subtle energies of the body and the clear light dimension of the mind. The creation of a sand painting is said to effect a purification on these three levels.

"For centuries, Tibetan mandalas were seen exclusively by the monks and nuns of Buddhist monasteries. In 1988, however, the Dalai Lama, the spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhism, decreed that a mandala be constructed for the public to witness."

From left to right, the Venerable Tritul Jampa Kalden, the Venerable Geshe Tenzin Choephel, and the Venerable Geshe Tenzin Dhargye. In 1987, Ven. Tritul Jampa Kalden was recognized as the 6th incarnate of Gaden Tripa Ngawang Choekyi by His Holiness the Dalai Lama.

"Traditionally, most sand mandalas are destroyed shortly after their completion. This is done as a metaphor of the impermanence of life."

Half the sand is swept into an urn while the other half is distributed to the audience. The Venerable Tenzin Thinlay translated much of the event and distributed the sand.

All quotes in this post are from a flyer made available at the event.

Tony Ten Fingers

2011-06-09T09:01:00.000-07:00

Tony Ten Fingers was invited by Twin Eagles Wilderness School to speak about Earth-Based Cultural Restoration during a weekend event at Scotia House. Tony is Oglala Lakota from the Pine Ridge Reservation of South Dakota, and draws from the original teachings of his people. Throughout the weekend, he spoke of the great need for modern people to re-connect to the earth and to our respective ancestral traditions.

Scotia House is a perfect place to connect with nature, and the weather was perfect for gathering outdoors.

These events also provide a wonderful opportunity to connect with one another. Many of the people who attended have participated in previous events. The connections deepen over time and create a level of trust that allows for what I call a heart-opening. Laughter comes easily, and sometimes tears.

Tim and I stand with Tony.

Tawnya's Song

2011-06-08T09:27:00.000-07:00

Jim Boyd sang a touching tribute to his niece Tawnya who recently passed after fighting 'that bad sickness' ~~cancer~~. Shelly Boyd and her family asked me to post Tawnya's Song in the hopes of getting more than 10,000 hits before her birthday next Monday (as of this morning, the video had a little more than 8,400 hits). Of course, after losing my aunt to that sickness, I agreed to help. I understand that for many people, telling the story is a healing experience, and now their family wants you to hear the story.

Won't you support their healing by watching the video and sharing it with your friends?

Prayer Flags

2011-06-02T23:52:00.000-07:00

My co-worker Carole is a creative genius. She often comes into work with some new, brilliant idea for an original art project. Most recently, she envisioned a series of flags, modeled after Tibetan prayer flags, for a colleague who has taken ill. She enlisted dozens of co-workers to each create a flag with an individual, personalized message. Some of the flags contained simple messages of encouragement, while others returned with intricate drawings and designs.

Carole's project has inspired the faculty, brought comfort to a friend, and raised the creativity quotient throughout the entire Institute for Extended Learning.

Storm

2011-06-01T23:21:00.000-07:00

The AEC parking lot nearly flooded this evening beneath a torrent of rain and hail. It's rare to see such heavy rain in Spokane, but the weather has been strange all over.

Hail mixed with rain accumulated in spontaneous streams across the asphalt.

Black thunder clouds moved toward the northeast while cars splashed through rivers of water that instantly formed along Monroe Street.

Spokane Falls

2011-05-29T10:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday evening, McKenna and I stopped on the Monroe Street Bridge to see Spokane Falls. The water level is higher than normal so the falls make a powerful roar.

Using a slow shutter speed, the water looks like a white blur against the steps.

The old Washington Water Power Building, now owned by Avista.

The Spokane County Courthouse.

McKenna at Spokane Falls.

Black Light

2011-05-29T00:33:00.000-07:00

The cast and crew of Alice earned a "black light party" on the stage of the Bing Crosby Theater as a reward for selling more than 2,000 tickets to the show. Many of the kids dressed in white and painted their arms with florescent markers - all to create a more psychedelic effect, or course.

Dakota looks sinister.

Whitney and her friends.

The kids had a highly entertaining experience while I got some interesting photographs.

With my tripod in hand, I finally got an opportunity to take some worthwhile pictures of the interior of the Bing.

Characters

2011-05-24T23:30:00.000-07:00

CYT's Alice throws a modern twist onto the original story. In this version, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are a couple of high school students with punk rock aspirations. Several times throughout the show, the two strum their air guitars while the orquestra plays the real thing. It's a very cool effect.

Alice meets a giant caterpillar singing, "Who are you?" This is one of many mind-altered scenes in the play.

A close-up of Dakota in the caterpillar.

The Cheshire Cat.

Lilac Parade

2011-05-23T22:07:00.000-07:00

The Lilac Parade is becoming a family tradition. This is now the third consecutive year that I have marched in the parade while my family watches. This year, Rhonda and the kids invited a large group of family and friends to join us.

Marching in the parade is an opportunity to see many different kinds of human interactions, mostly positive. This year, I paused for a moment along the parade route and shook hands with a small group of Japanese tourists. They seemed thrilled by the gesture. One man shook my hand enthusiastically as we bowed to one another. "Arigato, arigato," he said over and over again. It was heartwarming to share this one brief moment of cultural exchange. Others stopped me along the way and asked to take my picture; it almost feels like being a celebrity for a day.

Some interactions are negative. Every year, at least one group of children will make stereotypical war-hoops with their hands over their mouths: "woo, woo, woo, woo..." This year in particular, one woman called out to me and said, "Hey Indian! Come here, I want to take your picture." I generally accept polite requests for pictures, but I ignored this one. I looked the other way and just continued walking. Another woman was sitting with her child. She pointed at me and said, "Look Timmy (or some other child's name), what is that?" I was stunned. I can't remember the last time someone called me that, or any other objectifying term. I almost stopped to confront her, but once again, I just kept walking.

Despite a few bumps along the road, I'm happy to say that most of my parade experiences are positive. Most importantly, I'm happy to represent the Spokane Tribe and to let the community know we're still here.

Alice

2011-05-23T00:41:00.000-07:00

Dakota and Whitney played a part in CYT Spokane's production of Alice, which I saw for the first time on Saturday. This adaptation of Alice in Wonderland is more delightfully psychedelic than the original, but to be honest, I would be hard pressed to summarize the plot in a few simple words. The play is - well, crazy - but in a fun and entertaining way. The plot becomes irrelevant against the amazing singing, acting, and scenery.

This version of Alice takes place in a modern high school setting. But like the original, Alice enters another reality, meets the Mad Hatter (among others), kills the Jabberwock, and confronts the Red Queen. Contemporary images and music are scattered throughout the play. For example, Alice meets the Mad Hatter in a television studio, and the Red Queen is a rock star.

Tickets are still available HERE.

Alice choosing the doorway of possibilities.

Alice encounters a group of "hippies"

I didn't totally follow how this scene relates to the play, but I was entertained nonetheless.

The Mad Hatter on Vani-Tea Tea Vee.

The Red Queen sings for the cheering crowd.

Dakota's character was fired by the Red Queen.

Whitney appeared in one of the classroom scenes.

Dakota after the show.

Whitney after the show.

Dakota was part of the caterpillar and got to wear this awesome hat.

The Rapture

2011-05-20T23:57:00.000-07:00

I drove to Wellpinit this afternoon thinking about the rapture.

Of course, news reports have given an extraordinary amount of attention to the preachings of Harold Camping who predicted that rolling earthquakes would spread across the globe on Friday night (tonight), followed by the rapture of true believers at 6:00 pm Saturday night, May 21, 2011. Some people have an enduring fascination with apocalyptic theology, while many others look on with curiosity, if not ridicule.

But why the rapture? Why all the attention? Why all the doomsaying? What is it about the world that makes people long for another place? Yeah, I understand that humans have made a pretty big mess - wars, bloodshed, violence, injustice, ecological destruction - you name it. But if you step outside and see the beauty of the creation, how can one fail to see that the earth is truly a paradise? As I look upon the blue skies, the flowing river, and the green grass, I feel gratitude and love. Why would I want to leave all this behind? Instead of abandoning the world in some kind of cataclysmic end times scenario, why can't we reconcile ourselves instead?

The emphasis on rapture and deliverance seems misplaced. When Jesus taught his followers to pray, he did not tell them to seek some other world, but rather declared, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." When I see the awesome power of nature, I think that kingdom is already here, if only we have eyes to see.

The Spokane River spilled over Nine Mile Dam with impressive force.

A couple of views from the Spokane Reservation.

Drumheller Meeting

2011-05-19T23:19:00.000-07:00

Recently, the Lands Council and a local high school group planted ponderosa pines within a culturally and ecologically sensitive area at Drumheller Springs. Many indigenous food plants were disturbed during the planting and many others threatened over the long term. I wrote about the incident here.

I expressed my concern to my friend Kirsten Angell, who is a board member at Lands Council. She arranged a meeting with Kat Hall, also of Lands Council, and Angel Spell, urban forester for the Spokane Parks and Recreation Department. The four of us met at Drumheller Springs, along with my son Dakota.

We started at the western edge of the park and walked toward the spring, stopping along the way to discuss the native plants - the bitterroots, brown camas, wild onions, arrowleaf balsamroot, wild carrots, and others. We talked about the plants from a scientific perspective, but we also addressed the cultural aspect of each one - the history, the language, and even the spirituality. Most importantly, I spoke of my deep love for this land and for all the plants growing here.

Prior to our meeting, I prepared a small sample of foods harvested from Drumheller Springs. I wanted my friends to experience Drumheller through the foods, and not just through words. After hearing all the stories, we sat together on the ground and enjoyed a small meal.

After sharing a beautiful cultural experience, we continued walking toward the new tree plantings. The contrast in mood was palpable. As we walked together, I noticed them stepping more carefully and seeing the park through different eyes. Then I think they understood.

At the conclusion of our meeting, I asked them to 1) remove the trees, and 2) get the city to create a special designation to prevent future plantings.

In the short term, I'm happy to report that Kat from Lands Council made a commitment to remove the trees to another location. For the long term question of creating some kind of legal designation, Angel agreed to address the issue with the staff at the Parks and Recreation Department. She acknowledged that we might encounter some difficulties, but she expressed an openness to helping.

I will post updates as they become available.

p'uxʷp'uxʷ

2011-05-18T12:01:00.000-07:00

tam qsipi čn xʷuy ččsax̣m č' wilbur u čn x̣ect t p'uxʷp'uxʷ.

łuʔ p'uxʷp'uxʷ epł piq snc'ʔekʷt.

nexʷ epł k'ʷk'ʷiyumeʔ picčł l' nišut n stulixʷ.

epł xʷeʔyit sq'ʷastqin.

hi q'ʷay łuʔ sččmasqt. hi čtim'.

x̣ʷelntm t citxʷ ččsax̣m łuʔ p'uxʷp'uxʷ.