And Then I Tasted Two Waters

I filled my colored pouches with tobacco, black to purple, carefully placing the tobacco in the center of the cloth. I then pinched the cloths sides until the tobacco was cradled inside. Most importantly were the prayers that would be offered, offered through this tobacco. Inside the lodge we would tie our prayer bags to the ceiling and let the prayers hang around us like stars suspended in the night. It was night in the lodge. Blankets covered the wooden frame like an animals pelt or how our skin ties to our bones. Once the blankets were tied off and the doors were closed, we all sat inside the lodge. Inside grandmothers womb.

Already having helped weave the blankets over the lodge, I sat, watched and tied my prayer bags. A young man tended to the fire, keeping the flames well fed so the lava stones could soak in the fires medicine. In the daylight the stones looked a dull grey, but in the lodge they glowed like little suns. Elders tended to all of the other tasks: they loaded the Chanupas, set the alter and invoked the Great Spirit and all our relations. Aho Mitakuye Oyasın.

Prayer bags hung around almost everyones neck, from a pocket, or were gingerly carried around in closed hands. It was obvious we all held burdens and carried a bit of suffering. I would tie my suffering to the prayer bags and let the tobacco and whispered prayers become the remedy and intention for my healing. Inside of those bags were our tears, our traumas and our losses. Loved ones who had past, fresh wounds not even scarred over, and old wounds that never left the body but stayed as teachers who continually called us back to our healing. We were all healing.

I am healing as I tie these bags, sliding the string underneath my fingers making my loose bags taut. I remember my childhood and recall the fragility of a child’s innocence. I am here as a young man wondering which way my life is going. Feeling all the uncertainty that has built up inside of me. How do I fit inside of this world? Inside of this society which seems to be crumbling and full of illusions? A society that divides us. Dulls us until we feel separated from the natural world and from each other.

Here in this space is a group of people from all walks of life, backgrounds and upbringings coming together, all with questions of their own. We are here because something drew us back together to an indigenous practice that invokes us to search for the Spirit of Life, give Gratitude to our ancestors and Honor the natural world which we are intricately connected to. Here, with all of these beings, we are co-creating a space of prayer, healing and forgiveness and giving that to all life everywhere.

It is time to go inside of the lodge. The women crawl in first and then the men. I sit in the lodge looking at all of the faces around me while I still can. A man rakes the lava stones into the hut and another man with deer antlers sets them in the dug out pit in the middle of the lodge. One woman is given cedar, sage and tobacco. Another is given sweet-grass woven into a braid. As the stones come in we honor them as grandfathers and together say, “Aho Mitakuye Oyasın.” Then the woman sprinkles the herbs on the hot lava rock turning the tobacco, cedar and sage into hundreds of candles lit and then blown out. The other woman blesses the stone with the sweet-grass. I sit and watch as every stone, every grandfather, is honored in this same way. Once all of the stones are placed in the pit someone closes the door and I can’t see my hands on my lap any longer.

Not by sight, rather by listening, did I know the host of the ceremony poured water over the stones. Snake-like they hissed and steam bubbled all around the lodge. Almost immediately I was drenched and my breath got heavy. Next to me was a father and his son, not even ten years old. I was amazed that this boy was here. I wanted to raise a child like he was being raised. This was the church i’d want my children to know: Earth, stones, water and the abrupt honesty of people crying and calling out for healing. That child would never be confused of how suffering is a part of this world. He’d also never be confused in the healing powers of the Earth. I wondered if he could see that no one else was responsible for our salvation and healing but ourselves. He could hear what I could hear, the subtle but audible whispers of people praying for a plethora of sufferings. To me this was the sweetest sound on Earth: prayers for the Earth and collective healing. By healing ourselves, we would cause less suffering to those around us, which would vicariously heal the Earth which is only as wounded as we are.

I was praying for guidance. That was what my first prayer flag held inside of it. I was praying for my mother and grandmother, that was the second. The birds and the ancient ones of the skies were the third. My father and grandfather were the fourth. The fifth was for the waters and all the beings that knew water is life. The sixth was for all of my relations. Lastly, the seventh was for Spirit to guide me on this journey. This journey of life that currently feels vast and uncertain, where I battle with depression, anxiety and suffering that I’ve caused and has also been done unto me.

I offer my prayers softly as if they’re a breeze that can only be heard if one chooses to listen. But around me drums beat like thunder in the night and more experienced ceremonial members chant an ancient language, songs that you don’t need to know the meaning to feel the power of.

The first round ended and after bringing in more stones we began the second. I was drenched. Completely. More sage, tobacco and cedar lit the new stones like embers blazing and simultaneously dying. Their smokes filled the room and I breathed it in deeply. Sweet-grass slid over the stone like a lovers hand gently rubs a lovers back in an intentional passing. The touch may only last a moment but it has the power to raise every hair on ones body.

As my awareness deepened inwards beginning this second round, subtle anxieties arose. “This is only the second round, how in the world will I make it through four of these! Well no one else looks like they’re leaving, there’s no way I will either. This boy here is a third my age, if he leaves than i’ll leave but just not first.” I jokingly thought to myself.

No, although fear and anxiety arose I knew deeper healing was present in this very moment. I knew this ceremony was an answering to prayers I gave to that sweet unseen Spirit which dances and sings in all things. I knew this was my practice to surrender. Trust in this lodge and the people around me. Trust in myself.

The second round was specifically intended for us to call out for healing. Call out to those in our lives who we wanted to see heal. I called out to the ones who’ve harmed and been harmed. I felt like if the ones who’ve harmed me hadn’t been suffering themselves I may have not gone through those traumas. I believe in that kind of forgiveness. If someone felt so much anger they murdered someone I’d want them to experience true peace. Id want them to see they are not that angry confused self, but something much deeper. I want them to know their pain is normal and someone somewhere wants to see them healed. Fighting fire with fire kills us all. Praying with this sacred fire heals us all. Fire is both the destruction and protection. Fire is someone who stands up to injustice from the conviction and passion that no one deserves to be treated lesser than. Fire is also the divisions of war, hate and all violence. Will we pray with the fire or let it consume us? I thought of the world and I prayed.

It was the end of the second round and the door was opened. One opening in the front and one in the back. We are asked to pray out loud, whoever felt a calling.

A family just lost their 25yr old son. A brother lost his second sister. After these prayers, the leader asked if anyone else wanted to say a prayer out loud. In this space, he filled the horn with water and passed it to the boy beside me to drink. It was the first water that had been offered after about an hour of time in the lodge.

I raised my hand. I could feel my insides churning.

“I pray for the man who sexually abused me as a child.” I began my prayer. “ When I first spoke with him I forgave him about two years ago. Recently I have been going into another depression and I knew that part of my trauma was my experience with him as a child. I called him again yesterday and asked to help pay for my therapy. He agreed and on the phone he told me that he was experiencing gout and disease.” I took a breath to relax.

“I pray for his healing. I know the world becomes a better place when we can forgive the ones who’ve hurt us the most. I pray for my healing and all the trauma this experience has caused me. All those I’ve hurt because of it. I pray for his health and mine.”

Tears were rolling down my eyes and a great weight lifted from inside of me. Anxiety and fear left and I felt renewed. This was the first water I tasted.

“Hawk, pass the water to the person right behind you.” Asked the leader. Hawk handed it to my friend.

“No, right behind you.”

I looked at Hawk and felt a deep care for this child, like a little brother. I felt a sense of protection towards him, although I just met him, a deep care arose within.

“Drink this water and let it restore the innocence that was taken from you as a child.”

I drank the water and that was the second water that I tasted.