Contents

Preface                                                                    vi

Prologue                                                                  ix

 01  Awakening                                                        01

 02  Groundwork                                                      23

 03  Enter the Bear                                                   36

 04  Dream Worlds                                                   67

 05  Shamans of Old                                                 72

 06  The Apprentice                                                   92

 07  Discoveries                                                        103

 08  The Arrival of Spring                                        118

 09  Šipa·puli·ma Found                                           131

 10  Sacred Offerings                                                153

 11  The Messenger                                                   171

 12  Zuñi Bound                                                        189

 13  Commemorations                                               209

 14  Encounters                                                         225

 15  The Pilgrimage                                                   246

16  Powerful Medicine                                             270

 17  After the Fact                                                     290

 18  Synopsis of the Age of Reality                            302

 Shamans' Genealogy                                             309

"Dancing With Sunsets"

      Commemorations

Just as the evening was beginning to slowly wind down, Popékâke arrived to share with Raquel just what the projected plans were for the next day’s events.  Koškáti had wanted to depart no later than mid morning so that they could arrive in Zuñi with plenty of time to give Popé a helping hand in setting up for that evening’s ceremony.  Even in light of the rejuvenating effect of the homecoming of his spiritual family, they were all still aware that Popé had been recently ill and wasn’t moving about as well as in the past.  Popékâke suggested to Raquel, “Take care to sleep well tonight.  Tomorrow's going to be a very full day.”

The next day arrived and was justly greeted with great weather, and the three excited Medicine initiates from Pescado had reached Zuñi at mid afternoon, as was initially planned.  The Zuni Shamans discovered the rejuvenated Popé and some of the other Zuñi villagers at the great Kiva.  It appeared that the preparations were just about completed and the men were leisurely engaged in some rather lively exchanges, mostly centered on the announced initiation of a woman as well as that of a Spaniard.  Popé had just been confidently reassuring some of his fellow clansmen that they would be well pleased with both of these new additions to the clan as well as their unique status as a Zuñi Medicine Man and Woman.

Popé, just before the arrival of the three from Pescado, was in the process of saying, “Kiasiwa has truly discovered Zuni’s šipa·puli·ma, and as such, he has achieved entirely on his own good merit the very honorable status of ·akw·a mossi (medicine chief).  Kiasiwa has now rightfully assumed the role of our most revered medicine chief, and as such, possesses the authority to bestow that spiritual position of ·ona· ya·naka ·a·šiwani (priest of the completed path) upon any qualified man, or even woman in this case.  I fully respect the choices he has so thoughtfully and carefully made, and I know full well that he has done this with the greatest of care, knowing the special qualities of these two loving souls.  I know that I taught him well and he has grown far beyond my modest instructions into a fine stature of a man with the greatest understanding.  I possess the greatest respect and love for both Raquel and this unusual Spaniard that I have now chosen to call Naiyutchi, in honor of the great Zuni Medicine Man.  I could not have shown any greater respect for one that I have come to love like that of my own son.  I know that when you come to know these two great souls, you'll share equally in my happiness.”  Popé spoke with such great passion and enthusiasm that you could easily witness a sense of complete acceptance in the faces of these once slightly doubtful brothers.

At just about that moment the three Shamans from Pescado entered the great Kiva and were enthusiastically greeted by all.  After some rather hearty hugs and words of congratulations, Popé suggested that he and the travelers return to that special place of healing for their evening meals and prepare themselves for the night's festivities.  Popé explained, “I want this to be a memorable night that none of us shall ever forget.  It is a truly rare occasion when so many that are on the same spiritual path are also gathered in one place at the same time.  This rare event is going to be an evening of the greatest power and celebration, a night of many, many blessings.”

Popé left the Kiva with Raquel on his right and Koškáti on his left and he held their hands tightly as they returned to that special place of healing.  Popékâke followed close behind and only respectfully listened while the three Medicine Men and one Woman exchanged words of shared excitement about the forthcoming evening.  Popé said, “You know, Kiasiwa has been at the river's side most of the day, and I believe he has been communicating in spirit with ·awitelin citta and the spirit of the great Bear.  I'm so proud of this fine man; I can see in his eyes that he has learned how to love his fellow man with a deep compassion that is beyond even my own modest ability.  Something or someone has taught Kiasiwa some great lessons, and in my heart of hearts I believe that it must have been this very special Spaniard, the one I now call Naiyutchi.  Raquel, do you understand why these priests do not take a woman?  Naiyutchi should have the pleasure of a fine son in whom he could pass on his great understanding of love.  None of these priests have their own hom citta--I just don't understand that!  It’s not the natural way of things.”

When they arrived at the home of the medicine man, Manuél was sitting outside reading his Bible.  Popé asked, “Is that one of those strange books that I've heard so much about from Kiasiwa?  I imagine that there are no words in that book about the Zuni!  Naiyutchi, is it in that book where you are told not to take a woman or to have children?  I imagine that our Zuni ways are as strange to you as the ways of a priest are strange to us.  You know, it wasn't too many years ago that our elders asked all those Franciscan priests to leave our Zuni lands and let us have our own ways.  I'm told that you are a different kind of priest, and that your teachers were different from the teachers of those Spanish priests that we asked to leave.  Tell me, my son, why are you so unlike these other priests?  What makes you so different and so acceptable as a Medicine Man?”  Manuél responded warmly to the elder Medicine Man, most respectfully using Popé’s own Zuni tongue. “These priests that your elders so rightfully expelled were indeed Spanish Franciscans, and they were educated by a group of Spaniards of a very different bent on their Christian faith.  Many of these priests from my own homeland were mislead to believe that anyone who does not worship exactly as they do were to be treated as heathens.  Heathens are often treated even worse than our own animals.  An animal has no soul and has no mind and is simply not subjected to judgment, at least as far as we know.  A heathen, on the other hand, is held responsible for not believing in our God and is therefore, according to these Spanish Franciscans, totally unworthy to be treated like other humans.  That is why so many indigenous peoples have been wrongfully slain by many of these crude Spaniards, and the lucky ones that actually survived this useless slaughter were often reduced to slaves.  It is sad to report, but this slaughter even took place back in my own homeland during a period of great tribulation, and I often regret that some of my fellow Spaniards had to suffer and die for no apparent reason.  It’s a part of my heritage that I am so ashamed of.  Fortunately for many, Spaniards are not the only peoples outside of Zuni.

“I fortunately received my own training as a priest in a French monastery that was governed by a different order of priest, the Jesuits--not that all Jesuits are any better than some of these Franciscans.  My French Jesuit brothers fully condoned and confirmed my respect for all of mankind and taught me to love my neighbors, just as Jesus had loved all of his neighbors without judgment.  I don't believe that these Spanish Franciscans really understood that their founder, Saint Francis, lived a life more like that of Jesus than any of the other Catholics saints.  We call ourselves ‘Jesuits’ because we attempt to follow the actual teachings of Jesus as closely as possible and not necessarily all of the doctrines of the Church: to love our God, and neighbors, with all of our hearts, souls and minds.  I had an unusual teacher in that he taught me not so much to believe but to think, to use my mind as much as the dictates of my heart.  I took José, I mean Kiasiwa, to meet this unusual man that had been my great teacher, Father François, because I wanted Kiasiwa to understand that all priests were not like so many of these misguided Spanish Franciscans.  And of course, not all Franciscans are alike.  There are fine Franciscans in both Italy and France that are as equally loving as their founder, Saint Francis.  In this book, which we call the Bible, there are many words, and I have learned through my endless study of this fine book that not all the words are of value.  Father François instructed me to search for the truth and to decide, according to my own good spirit, which of these words in the Bible actually have the power to set my spirit free to love my brothers.  This loving Father, with his vast library, showed me that I could find words that spoke the truth in books other than the Bible, and that I should learn to trust my own heart and my own mind.  Popé, I have also been lovingly taught many wonderful things by your own son, Kiasiwa, and I know that you were his greatest teacher.  I have learned just as much from your people, the Zuni, as I have from this holy Bible and all the books that I have read.  Perhaps this is because you live what you know and don’t just put what you know on paper with words.  Sometimes we ‘educated’ people mistaken the written word as the truth just because it has been committed to paper.   This can often be a grave mistake.  Kiasiwa and Raquel have demonstrated in and through their actions what this Bible only relates in words: the true meaning of love.  Kiasiwa and Raquel both labor and sacrifice for the benefit of others without the need of any due recognition or praise.  They are both completely unselfish and eternally willing to give without any expectations of ever receiving anything in return.  It has been such an honor to have shared in the joy of their love, and now I am even more flattered with the honored blessing of your father's name, Naiyutchi.  I don’t possess the proper words to fully express my deepest appreciation or gratitude for such a great honor, and though all I can say is, thank you, thank you is simply not enough.”

Popé was deeply touched by what Naiyutchi had just taken the time to so passionately share with him, and he somberly expressed his endless gratitude for having shared his love and wisdom with Kiasiwa and Raquel.  “I believe that they have possibly found in your kind of love something as wonderful and beautiful as they found when they discovered Zuni’s sacred šipa·puli·ma.  Perhaps they are one in the same?”  Popé suggested that while the women were busily engaged in preparing the evening's meal that they might all go down by the river and retrieve or perhaps rescue Kiasiwa from his deep thoughts.  “We all need to rest our bodies and our minds and prepare ourselves in spirit for this most unusual evening of the celebration of our spiritual brotherhood.  We all have so much to be thankful for, and tonight we will humble ourselves before the spirit of the great Bear.”

Popé, Koškáti, Popékâke, and Naiyutchi all went down to the river’s side only to find Kiasiwa fast asleep.  Naiyutchi awakened his friend saying, “You must have been in such deep thought that your spirit joined the stars even before they appeared.  Would you care to share with us the wisdom of those more lofty thoughts?”

Kiasiwa yawned. “I fell asleep just wondering what my father had in store for us.  When we returned to Zuñi, I hadn’t  expected such a hearty welcome; I was just pondering how fortunate I am to have such a great Medicine Man as my own father.”

Naiyutchi helped his loving friend get up from where he had been lying asleep, and all of them returned to Popé's home where they shared a bountiful and love-prepared meal in peaceful silence.

Everyone appeared quite content with his or her meal, and none of these Medicine Men seemed to be in any rush to get to the great Kiva.  In due time the Zuni Shamans left that sacred place of healing and headed for the center of the village.  When they had arrived at the great Kiva, they were all somewhat surprised to discover quite an unexpectedly large gathering, headed by that year’s appointed yanyutta mossyona (head Bow Priest).  The tribal government in Zuni at that time was essentially that of a theocracy that was typically headed by a priestly council, the ya·piyla ya·šiwani, made up of mostly pošaya·nk·i (Bow Priests).  It seems that the current head of this great council had gotten the message via word of mouth that there was going to be a ceremonial gathering at the great Kiva that evening.  So with few exceptions, many of the pošaya·nk·i of Zuni simultaneously assembled without actually knowing the real reason.  Of course, as these various brothers had gathered, they soon learned from some of the others the actual purpose of this evening’s proposed ceremony.  These rather unexpected pošaya·nk·i and other Zuni had already lit the rather large fire in the center of the room, and some of the other villagers had also lit smaller fires about the great room.  These fires not only provided the light needed in order to see, but they afforded some needed heat for that rather cool fall night.

As the Shamans eventually entered the great Kiva, Popé approached the yanyutta mossyona, a Zuni Bow Priest that went by the name of Wayhusiwa, to explain that the celebration which was about to take place that evening was essentially to honor the induction of some new brothers into ·anše·kwe (Bear clan).  This yanyutta mossyona shared to Popé his initial confusion, and wondered why the ya·piyla ya·šiwani had been so anxiously summoned without his having any previous knowledge.  But since no one had actually been intentionally summoned, Popé went on to explain that the ceremony, which had only been planned the previous day, was not initially intended for the entire village of Zuñi nor even the ya·piyla ya·šiwani for that matter, but that there was nothing so private or sacred that had been planned for this ceremony that they were not all welcome to remain and share in this festive occasion.  “I thank you for lighting our fires and warming this sacred place with your honored presence,” Popé said, speaking directly to this Zuni brother who sat in the honored position, “This is a great day for me and my entire family, and I am pleased to share this great occasion with any and all of my Zuni neighbors.  In fact, it is probably appropriate that so many have gathered here; I am actually pleased and honored at your unexpected presence, and it makes this special celebration all the more significant.  You see, my Zuni brothers,” Popé said, now addressing the entire assemblage, “there has never been, to my modest recollection, so many great Medicine Men gathered in just one place.  And tonight is made even more special because we are going to welcome an exceptional individual from our village of Pescado, by the Zuni River, as the first ·ona· ya·naka ·a·šiwani, who happens to be a Zuni woman.  And my son, Kiasiwa, has brought with him from šipa·puli·ma a very special Spaniard who is now our Zuni brother, and for the purposes of this ceremony and because I now accept him as my own son, I have taken it upon myself to honor this unusual man with the name of Naiyutchi.  All of you are most welcome to remain.  Our celebration will not take much of your time.  It is fitting that many of our Zuni ·annoti·we (clans) are present, because Kiasiwa, who is now our ·akw·a mossi (medicine chief of the societies of šipa·puli·ma) is present amongst us.”

Popé then received a great honor as Wayhusiwa rose from his honored position within the great Kiva and presented his sacred telnanne, a feathered short staff that would be offered only by a Bow Priest symbolizing the leadership of the one to whom it is presented).  It was tradition that when one of these telnanne was so bestowed, it would be blown upon four times by the priest that made the presentation, which Wayhusiwa so performed after gently handing the telnanne to Popé.  Of course, this was nothing new for Popé, for he had held this honored position several times in the past.  What was so special is that the telnanne was rarely passed to another until the reigning yanyutta mossyona had completed his period of leadership, which was usually at least a full year.  Naturally, this unusual gesture was just for this evening’s special festivities.

Popé graciously accepted the telnanne from his Zuni brother and humbly assumed the most honored position in the Kiva, while Wayhusiwa took another seat with his own clan, the pičči·kwe (Dogwood).  Popé cleared his throat. “Before I begin, I want to make a special request that hom ·akcek·i, Kiasiwa, share with all of you his astonishing discovery of our Zuni šipa·puli·ma, along with the tales of his personal encounters with the great ·anše.  This will be a privilege for all of us who have never ventured beyond the outer boundaries of Zuni.  I have always known that this most sacred šipa·puli·ma existed in more than just our dreams, but Kiasiwa was the first of our generation to have actually discovered it for all of us to enjoy.  He was not alone.  This great woman of Pescado that is now amongst us was at his side when they first encountered the telaššina·we atop a great mountain that is known as Sandia.  It is far to the east of Zuñi where the Wolf rules and just as our ancient fathers had always told us in those sacred stories.  It was at this most sacred of all telaššina·we that Kiasiwa was guided by the great ·anše in the initiation of the two Zuni Shamans that we are to honor this evening.  Listen carefully, my brothers, for this is something that too few Zunis ever have the privilege of sharing.  We are indeed honored, even blessed, which is why it is befitting that all of you have been so unexpectedly assembled here to witness and share in this evening’s joyous festivities.  I believe that the great ·anše himself must have spiritually directed all of your hearts to have been present for this special occasion.”

Popé, with this rather astonishing announcement, had gotten every Zuni’s undivided attention, and with the exception of the crackling of the fires, there wasn’t a sound to be heard as Kiasiwa slowly rose from his seat to address his Zuni brothers.   Kiasiwa motioned to Raquel to join him in sharing this unusual story of discovery, and then proudly presented Raquel to his Zuni brothers with the greatest show of respect and love that any Zuni Medicine Man could have possibly demonstrated.  This was most particularly rewarding to Raquel, since she was to be later properly introduced to all as Zuni’s first woman to have ever achieved that most respected position of a Zuni ·ona· ya·naka  ·a·šiwani. 

We all know that astonishing story of discovery, so there is no need to repeat what Kiasiwa and Raquel enthusiastically yet modestly shared with those assembled.  They shared the entire story in great detail, and I will only add that the looks of astonishment among those gathered dramatically attested to the marvel of these Zuni Medicine Men’s magnificent discovery of šipa·puli·ma, and there was no doubt that having a Zuni woman be such an integral part of all of this experience only added to the spiritual mystique and wonderment of the entire evening.  Before Kiasiwa and Raquel concluded their compelling story, they also presented their closest friend, Manuél, whom they introduced by both his Spanish name and his newly bestowed Zuni name of Naiyutchi--a name that was already familiar to all that had ever lived in the land of the Zuni.  Having presented Naiyutchi in the context of this most intriguing story of the Zuni šipa·puli·ma only added to what would have already been a most welcomed acceptance of a Spaniard into the otherwise restricted inner-circle of this highly evolved Zuni culture.

After Raquel and Kiasiwa had totally captivated their audience with this fascinating story, and introduced Naiyutchi with such equal enthusiasm, they relinquished the lead back to Popé.  This great Zuni Medicine Man then proceeded to share, “I don’t believe that there is much more for me to add except that which I initially intended for this special evening.  After hearing this great discovery once again, I am humbled, and I feel like what I was prepared to share will not compare with what you have just heard.  In any case, I first want the head of my own clan, the ·anše·kwe, to affectionately affirm and welcome my spiritual children, Raquel and Naiyutchi, into my time-honored clan and the clan of my ancestral fathers.  I would present them with special tokens of their acceptance except that they have already been so totally blessed by Kiasiwa at that most sacred telaššina·we that there is no way that I could further honor them any more appropriately than they were already honored by the actual presence of the great ·anše.  So I will only greet them in my usual fashion with my full approval and most warm acceptance.  Welcome, my brother and my most honored sister.”  Popé rose from his position and went to affectionately embrace both Raquel and Naiyutchi.  As Popé approached his children, the entire assemblage stood in their places and stamped their feet as a show of solidarity.

Popé returned to his honored position and remained standing with a look of great pride.  “What can I possibly say?  I have not yet lived upon this land as long as the great Naiyutchi, and I don’t feel that I have achieved the great position of honor that he achieved in his own lifetime.  I have, however, been fortunate to have finally arrived at a position of wisdom in my own modest life that has greatly humbled me.  There are two great understandings amongst all that I have learned that I now wish to share with you, and I am grateful that there are so many of my Zuni brothers here with whom to share these sacred thoughts.

I am honored to have served all of you as your Medicine Man, and I know how many of you seem to marvel at what these Zuni Medicine Men appear to achieve with all that they do, and especially what they have come to mean to you in your daily lives.  The first lesson that I wish to share is that of the actual power of the herbs that we Medicine Men use in our craft.  I was instructed by the greatest of them all, and I fully respect everything that I was so lovingly taught by the great Naiyutchi.  Naiyutchi, in his obsession with the observable complexity of these medicinal herbs, very often failed to disclose just how simple and so basic they were.  I now realize that the perceived magic that some of these Zuni herbs are known to possess is naturally simple and basic, not magical at all.  They do not always hold the power to miraculously heal as I had once thought, though they do play a significant role in the actual healing of any man, woman, or child.  What these wonderful herbs actually do is simply summon up and then release that most miraculous power of the body to heal itself.  It is only the trusted task of the Medicine Man to inspire this release within each of our own bodies and spirits, and to do so with ever-loving affirmation of the person that is in need of this healing.  These wonderful herbs have the power to relieve the recipient of many undesirable tensions and any other unwanted obstacles that would otherwise prevent the body from achieving its own natural cure.  These various tensions or obstructions may be in one’s head, one’s heart, or even in one’s spirit.  It should be the extraordinary skill and heart of the Medicine Man to know wherein these tensions lie and to then apply the proper herbs that will dispel these unwanted and unwelcome evils.  There is no magic to all of this, there is only the great desire to bring relief to one’s brother or sister.  This great desire is simply the most natural demonstration of love and caring that is in all of our natures, if only we permitted it.

“Secondly, we Medicine Men have always acknowledged and experienced the cleansing powers of water.  One of the most dramatic experiences that I had with my father was his use of water to achieve so much, and this was even with some unruly neighbors that were often counted amongst our enemies.  Our entire story of Zuni is imbued with this most spiritual of all the natural substances that surrounds the ancestral lands of Zuni in all four directions; it lives in the four great oceans, pours from the sky to nourish the fruits of the land, flows from the telaššina·we to form the Zuni River where we wash away all sorts of evils, and for the Zuni Medicine Man, this great water is the most essential element at his disposal for all healing.  It is used to brew teas with many of our herbs that could only enter the body in that mysterious manner.  Water flows through our bodies like those darkened rivers that flow beneath us through the nadir and connects the four oceans.  It is through these rivers of pure water that the sun passes beneath us, only to rise up in the east each morning and once again bring warmth and life to this land of ours.  As a Medicine Man I have learned to use this miraculous water to wash away the evils that invade our lives, both with washing the surface of our bodies and washing our hearts and souls.  I have seen some of these special waters used to flush evil from our bowels.  Water is so very important and necessary to our very existence and happiness, and I believe that we do not always understand or completely appreciate the full importance of the lessons that are repeatedly taught by the great ·anše, who leads us to water when we thirst.  And now this great Spaniard has come into our presence, and he has this very day shared with me just how important this water has become to the most basic understanding of his own religion.  These strange Catholics have learned many of the same spiritual lessons about the power of water as have the Zuni, and they even use this sacred water to cleanse their spirits of evils.  Water is amongst man’s greatest gifts, and we need to take great care to not ever show disrespect for its marvelous power; a great power that it alone possesses.  Without this great water, there would simply be no life at all.”

With all of this having been said, Popé suggested that everyone take time to greet his or her new brothers (or sister).  Popé then approached Wayhusiwa and returned the telnanne to him, thanking Wayhusiwa for allowing him the honor to preside over that evening’s event.  There was a great deal of chatter in the great room of the Kiva, and every Zuni was anxious to embrace both Raquel and Naiyutchi as a show of warm acceptance.  What was most unexpected and yet appreciated by all was Naiyutchi’s ability to so easily communicate with his new brothers and sisters in their own Zuni tongue.  Even more noticeable were the Zuni brothers that had gathered around Kiasiwa, probing him for more details of šipa·puli·ma and his various encounters with the great ·anše.  The evening lingered on, and in time everyone was exhausted by the excitement and began to slowly depart for their own dwellings.  This night had turned out to be even more than Popé had ever hoped for, and this rather unexpectedly large celebration further reenergized Popé in such a positive manner that his state of better health improved and would remain with him for some time.  There’s no cure like love!

The three Shamans of šipa·puli·ma remained in Zuñi for another nine days; a period of time that was somewhat shorter than had been initially anticipated yet more than sufficient to have fully achieved all that was ever expected of this overdue journey.  Raquel spent much of that remaining time at her own home in Pescado, and their friend Manuél divided his time between the two villages.  Kiasiwa spent most of his own time with Popé, and these two Medicine Men made it a point to visit almost every home in Zuñi.  There was the distinct feeling that these two were probably never to meet again, and there was also the feeling that Kiasiwa would possibly never return to Zuñi.

         Encounters

           A little over two full years had so quickly passed after this spiritual pilgrimage to Zuni because everyone was so totally engaged with all sorts of activities and the very next of any significant news from Zuñi came when Popékâke and Símacoya arrived in the spring of 1830 with their newly born son.  They had left their daughter in the care of Símacoya’s mother.  Popékâke had so enthusiastically insisted that his newborn son, Tonaši be taken to José and Raquel for their blessings as well as a proper christening in the Catholic Church.  Hopefully this Christian blessing would take place at the Iglesia de San Felipe de Neri, which by this time had taken on a particularly spiritual meaning for this Zuni family.  It was naturally anticipated that Father Manuél would perform the services himself, but it was that very winter that Manuél had been asked by the Church fathers to assume the position of pastor at the Cathedral of Saint Francis in La Ciudad de Santa Fe de San Francisco.

      This was quite an unexpected honor for Manuél and certainly a well-deserved step-up in the ranks of the Church as that position in Santa Fe usually leads to the appointment of Bishop for this entire northern Diocese.  In the meantime, José had become even more involved with a little church just to the north of their adobe in the small village of San Antonito, and it would be there that Tonaši was eventually taken and given the Christian name of Juan Mateo (John Matthew).  José had congenially suggested to Popékâke that as nice and meaningful as it was to have had Tonaši christened in the Catholic Church; “Let’s venture to the sacred telaššina·we, and use those Zuni sacred waters for a further blessings of your very special first-born hom ·akcek·i.”  Popékâke was excited with this even more appropriate suggestion and his only expressed concern was that Símacoya was probably not physically able to make the rather rugged journey to the top of the mountain.  José, “Popékâke, we can leave the two women here and we can make this journey ourselves with the child.  I don’t believe this to be too much of a problem and we can care for Juan Mateo as though we were his mother.”  Símacoya, like any anxious mother was certainly concerned, as the child was still very young and still nursing.  By this time Raquel had had a great deal of valuable experience in caring for a child that could not readily have its own mother for nursing, and comfortingly assured Símacoya that she would prepare the necessary nutrients for this child, and see to it that there was also sufficient clothing for these two ‘men’ to properly care for Juan Mateo.  Raquel expressed to Símacoya, “You really shouldn’t worry; José has often helped me to care for any number of young children and he makes a very good mother when he is needed.”

José and Popékâke left very early that next morning with the good intentions of not spending the night, as was the usual for these trips to the telaššina·we.  It was just before the noon hour that they had finally reached that most sacred of all springs and began their attenuated and rather brief Zuni ceremony.  José had actually remained awake after the others had gone to sleep that very night before this very special event for the sole purpose of crafting another medicine bag for the newborn infant.  José had used the remaining animal skin from that same bag that had once belonged to his honored grandfather, Naiyutchi; that same bag from which Manuél’s medicine bag had also been carefully crafted.  José, “I know that you had brought your hom ·akcek·i here to Zuni’s šipa·puli·ma because you secretly and rightfully expect that Tonaši will follow in your own footsteps and become a Zuni Medicine Man.  I respect that heart-felt wish very much and even honor you for having such a grand hope, that I too share the same expectation for Tonaši, and for that reason alone I have prepared this token of my sacred approval.  I want you to keep this medicine bag for Juan Mateo until he is old enough to understand its full significance.  I suggest that you wear this medicine bag for him.  I have placed only one item inside, and it is only a bit of rock that was taken from Raquel’s sacred Medicine Rock.  When Juan Mateo is old enough I hope that he shall return here to šipa·puli·ma and complete his initiation in a full and proper manner.  I would be so honored if I could be just a part of that initiation and you might be pleased to know that the skin from which this medicine bag was created once belonged to Naiyutchi.  In the meantime, I know that you will take great care to see that he is properly instructed when he is able to understand the full meaning of the sacred path that has been chosen for him even before he had first entered Zuñi’s ·itiwan·a, ‘the middle place’ that was known to be equidistant from the four great oceans.  Be ever so cautious that this path of the Bear is something that he has also willingly chosen for himself and that can only be decided when he reaches an age of understanding.  You will know when that age is reached.  For me it came before I had reached my sixth year, but of course, I probably had little choice considering my father was Popé.”  Popékâke was naturally taken emotionally with this unexpected gift and words of encouragement and said, “It has been my hope from the day of hom ·akcek·i’s birth that one day when Tonaši is able to leave his mother’s care and watchful eye that he might come here to šipa·puli·ma and be properly instructed by the great Medicine Man.”  José indicated that he would be quite honored and that Tonaši would always be treated and considered in every aspect as his own son, should that great event ever come about.  “I think it would be most fitting for Tonaši to come here after he has been properly inducted into ·anše·kwe (Bear clan) and I look forward to that celebrated day.  I know that this will excite Raquel greatly, and I want you to share all of this with her when we return.”  They all took one last drink from the sacred waters and José even poured a bit of that sacred water over Juan Mateo’s head in the Christian fashion and with a grimaced smile softly said to the infant, “Now, you have been properly christened with the sacred waters of your own ancestral fathers of Zuni, and have been so blessed by the great ·anše.  Little do you know, my little Medicine Man, that you have just taken your first step on a great path of love?  You have my full blessings and I give to you the spirit of ·anše, to protect you and always lead you to these sacred waters.  May you never thirst without finding the needed waters!”  The two Zuni Medicine Men, with the little infant in arms, were able to return to the adobe just before the sun was to finally set behind the great sacred mountain.

Popékâke shared with the two women what had taken place at the telaššina·we and also mentioned that Tonaši may one day be able to return for some special instructions from both José and Raquel.  Símacoya softly expressed, “I know this is what hom tačču truly desires in his heart as he talked about nothing else this entire journey here to šipa·puli·ma.  And I would also be most honored to share hom ·akcek·i with the two of you when he is ready to come.  In many ways that I do not yet understand, I feel him to be ‘our’ child, as much yours as he is ours, and I know as his mother that he is destined to become a Medicine Man.  I knew that this child was going to be our hom ·akcek·i, even before his birth.”

Popékâke and his family remained at the adobe for only two more days before they had finally departed back to Pescado.  They would have possibly left even earlier except the trip over was particularly trying to Símacoya who still had not fully recovered from giving birth to Tonaši.  With Tonaši now being duly dedicated to becoming a Zuni Medicine Man, it was likely assured that the next generation of Zuni would have the benefit of a tradition that had been with them from their beginnings.  There was little doubt that Tonaši would one day return to the sacred telaššina·we and be instructed by the Shamans of šipa·puli·ma.  These two extra days gave José an opportunity to spend some special time with Popékâke and on that first of those two extra days José took Popékâke to Raquel’s sacred Medicine Rock and spent much of the daylight hours sharing his knowledge of some of his more powerful medicines.  While they were there, José retrieved a bit of the rock and offered it to Popékâke for his medicine bag, “I wish to share some of this ‘rock’ with you; Raquel would agree.  We have come to understand that the special power that is in this sacred rock came from Raquel, whose love of the healing arts is so pure and motivated only by her love for others.  I know that you have shared in that love when you were both children and this bit of Raquel’s rock should remind you that our greatest medicine is always born of love.”  The second day was spent with José offering the most basic instructions in reading English.  This was given to Popékâke who had once indicated that he wanted to learn what came from those mysterious books, and José further suggested that there was probably some priest or missionary somewhere near Zuni that could probably teach him to read if only he would make the request.   José even gave Popékâke a book with which he could begin practicing should he be able to locate a proper and willing teacher.  The couple left very early on the third day, wishing that they could have remained even longer, but they knew that they were needed and expected back in Pescado, and Símacoya was also most anxious to get back to her daughter.

The rest of the year was not quite as exciting as was usual for the Shamans of šipa·puli·ma, mostly because Manuél had assumed and was quite preoccupied with his newly acquired post as the Pastor of the Cathedral of Saint Francis.  It was just a little over twice the distance from their little adobe to La Ciudad de Santa Fe de San Francisco as to the Iglesia in the village of Albuquerque.  This added distance alone meant less frequent visits between the Shamans, but the even greater obstacle was all the additional administrative duties that Father Manuél had unexpectedly encountered as the newly appointed Pastor of the Cathedral; he could so rarely get away from Santa Fe.  In fact, in that entire first year, Manuél was only able to make one trip to the adobe itself, and that was only because he had some pastoral duties to perform at the little Church in San Antonito.  That winter was very quiet and uneventful, and shortly after the first of the year José and Raquel decided that they would go to Santa Fe and spend at least a little time with their dear friend.  This week's timely visit turned out to be a bit more than had been initially expected.  It was on the third day of this visit that Manuél had received word that his mother had just died back in Placitas.  This was totally unexpected, as his mother was not ever reported to have been in ill health.  The three Shamans immediately left for Placitas where Manuél had presided over his mother's internment.  Manuél had been close to his mother and had always given her the due credit for his having become a priest, as well as his having such an unusually loving nature.  It was fortuitous that José and Raquel had decided to make their journey at this particular time, because their presence helped Manuél deal more effectively with his grief.  As soon as the funeral was completed, the three Shamans returned to Santa Fe where Manuél, after a couple of days for regaining his composure and briefly mourning the loss of his mother, resumed his usual pastoral duties.  After another two days in Santa Fe, the two visitors returned to their own little adobe, knowing in their hearts that some greater spirit must have unconsciously summoned their presence, knowing that this would be a time of great need for their friend.

It was sometime that next spring after Raquel had prepared her garden that word came from Zuñi that Popé had died; this news was not unexpected, though the knowledge of the loss caused José to take several days away from his usual duties.  José spent one night at the telaššina·we, where he welcomed the spirit of his father to šipa·puli·ma.  “Father, I waited for your loving spirit to come here so that it might enter the nadir through this most sacred of telaššina·we.  I am sorrowful for the passing of your spirit, but I know that you were tired of this life and that it was time for your spirit to seek rest amongst the other great spirits.  I know that you will be greeted by Naiyutchi and our Zuni Medicine fathers that preceded him.  I have prepared a little gift for your final journey.”  José had gathered some herbs that were known to induce calmness in one’s spirit, tied them with a bit of leather that still remained from that pouch that had belonged to Naiyutchi, and laid the small bundle next to the sacred spring.  “This is to bring peace to your spirit, because I know that you did not want to depart this world of the day people.  I have always sensed that you never felt that your work was ever completed, nor that you had done all that you could for our people.  You have left behind many that will now proudly walk in your place, and you have done well to prepare them.  Rest well, my father.  I love you and know that all of your brothers that are left behind love you equally and will never lose sight of your great medicine.”

Besides Tekkâke being at Popé’s side when he took his last breath, Koškáti and Popékâke were also there.  Popé’s dying words were: “Remember me to Kiasiwa.  Koškáti, my friend, I want you to take my place until you feel that Popékâke is well prepared and able to come live here in Zuñi and reside in this place of healing.  I know that Kiasiwa will not be returning home, and that it would be his own wish that both of you should assume this great responsibility in his place and fill this position of Zuni Medicine Man.  Tell hom ·akcek·i that my spirit will one day join him in šipa·puli·ma and that I will wait for him at the most sacred telaššina·we and we will drink those waters together along with the great ·anše.  Because Kiasiwa had discovered šipa·puli·ma, I know where my spirit will be this very night.  I hope that my hom ·akcek·i might be there to greet me.”

Koškáti immediately made the necessary arrangements to move from Pescado to Zuñi and took up residence in the great House of Healing.  Koškáti remained in this sacred position for a little over two years before he finally asked hom ·akcek·i, Popékâke, to replace him and assume the full role of Zuni’s chief Medicine Man.  This latest change in Medicine Men took place just following the death of Tekkâke, who had never quite recovered from the loss of her hom tačču.  This was the first time in over 200 years that this sacred place of healing had a new blood line, and at the same time there was no change in the inner spiritual nature of its honored occupants.

It was just a little over a year after Popé’s death that José was invited by Manuél to accompany him to the Pueblo of Jemez for some rather needed and certainly delicate missionary work that involved assisting the local Catholic priest to grasp a better understanding of the Jemez people and their local beliefs; hopefully have this young priest would become a bit more spiritually tolerant.  It had become rather apparent that the Jemez Pueblo was paying less and less attention to this recently appointed priest, and it was the hope of Father Manuél that José would help this novice priest to better understand that it wasn't always necessary for the Church to maintain dominance over these people’s spiritual life.  Apparently this priest was too enthusiastic for both the good of the Church as well as the Jemez Pueblo.  Manuél sent word ahead to José that he would, on the very next Sunday following the mass that was to be held in Santa Fe, come to the Iglesia de San Felipe de Neri in Albuquerque and that the two of them would depart from there and make the initial portion of their journey along the Rio Grande River.

It was the early fall of 1832 when José met Manuél at the church in Albuquerque at about mid morning.  The two left before the noon hour, and Manuél suggested that they would probably spend that first night in the village of Bernalillo where Manuél’s sister, Rosetta, and her family were living.  Manuél had promised Rosetta when he had seen her at their mother’s funeral that he would come for a much-needed visit, where he would make a most earnest effort to reacquaint himself with his two nephews that he had unwittingly neglected for so many years.  This was also an opportunity for his sister and her family to become more familiar with his dearest friend, José.

Manuél’s two nephews were practically grown men and they both worked with their father as builders of traditional adobe dwellings.  Their own very modest adobe was quite close to the Rio Grande River, where Rosetta cultivated and maintained a great garden much like that of Raquel’s.  It was a very enjoyable and fruitful visit, but the two Shamans intended to be off very early the next day so they could reach the Jemez Pueblo before nightfall.

That next day they were greeted with clear skies. The two priestly men were able to depart long before mid morning, but only after Rosetta had caringly prepared for them a hearty breakfast as well as some rations for their day’s journey.  It was a particularly warm day and with the dry season upon them, the ride along the river’s edge was rather dusty.  Just before the two were due to depart from the dusty trail and head up into the San Pedro Mountains to Jemez, Manuél made the timely suggestion that they might take this last opportunity to wash off in the river.  “It will freshen our bodies for the rest of our journey, and it shouldn’t be quite as dusty in the mountains!” 

They found an area where the refreshing waters were shallow.  The two Shamans wasted little time taking off their dusty clothes, ceremonially removing their medicine bags to avoid getting them wet and placing them atop the pile of clothing, and quickly immersing themselves in the invigorating water, tossing and splashing like playful kids.  José suggested to Manuél that he might use some of the finer sand from the river’s shallow bottom and wash Manuél’s back

Manuél said, “Why not!  I don’t think that I’ve ever had anyone wash my back except possibly my own mother when I was still a young child.  Thank you for making such a delightful offer!  That sounds really kind of you.  We’ll just pretend that we’re back in Zuni and that I’m your little brother.”  José approached Manuél and Manuél turned around and quietly lowered himself to his knees in those shallows of the mighty Rio Grande.  José lowered onto his own knees and caringly commenced the with rubbing of that wet fine sand on Manuél’s back, Manuél softly said, “That really feels quite calming, and I don’t recall ever feeling quite so relaxed.  You could continue this all afternoon and I wouldn’t dare ask you to quit.”  There was nothing more than friendship initially intended by this harmless sharing of such loving tenderness; then, without any provocation José began to find himself really enjoying just touching and gently scrubbing Manuél’s bare skin with the wet sand.  It wasn’t too long before José felt himself being sensuously aroused by the unexpected intimate nature of this otherwise innocent exchange.  José was becoming most clandestinely embarrassed at this unexpected and now uncontrollable state of physical excitement, and his usually confident voice began to noticeably tremble as he softly spoke with Manuél.  What José was not aware of was that Manuél himself was also experiencing some of those same energized and eager feelings of anticipated intimacy.  Manuél recognized the significance of this nervous trembling in José’s voice and began slowing turning around.  In doing so, Manuél innocently exposed his own arousal.  Just as Manuél was acknowledging José’s physical excitement with the tender and gentle touch of his hand, Manuél suggested that, “this is really quite alright, perhaps even enjoyable for the both of us… and you shouldn’t be unduly concerned about the expression of these natural and loving feelings; they’re quite normal, you know, between two grown men who really love and respect each other as we already do.  I have often had these thoughts that I suppressed and wondered if this might have ever happen between the two of us, but I didn’t want to do anything that might have ever affected the strong bond of friendship that we have so enjoyed.  I find all of this to be a most natural experience, and if you’re at all uncomfortable, we can stop right here before it goes any further and just pretend as though nothing ever happened.”

José’s immediate and equally caring response was to hold Manuél’s naked, excited body very tightly and say, “I, too, have often wondered just what it would be like to be this close to you.”  And with that having been said, the two uttered no other words and became totally intertwined in each other’s muscular arms as their strong hands explored each other’s most intimate parts until they both almost simultaneously exploded into an ecstasy that left both of them with the most gratifying feelings of utter exhaustion.

When the two had rested a bit at the river’s edge, remaining naked and occasionally touching each other with tender glances of gratefulness, Manuél said, “We really need to get going if we expect to reach Jemez before nightfall.  Of course, I wouldn’t have traded anything for what has just happened between us, and after all, Jemez will still be there tomorrow.” After a pause, “Thank you ever so much, José, for sharing something so completely wonderful and loving, and I truly hope this special time that we have just shared won’t change the affection that we have always shared for one another.”  José was most accepting and went on to explain to Manuél that such a show of physical affection between two men wasn’t regarded with the same degree of moral distain by many of the pueblo peoples as Manuél had once suggested that it was considered by many of the Christian Europeans and their clergy.  “It’s just part of being a man.”  José went on to further explain to Manuél that he would have never been offended had this actually occurred earlier in their relationship, but that he had intentionally avoided the opportunity of such an encounter out of his respect for what Manuél had described as something terribly wrong or “sinful” in the eyes of Manuél’s Catholic Church doctrines.  José said, “I have always really respected your own beliefs, and I wouldn’t have ever wanted to do anything that would have offended or compromised you in any manner.  And the real truth of the matter is that I love you just as much with or without what has just happened between the two of us.  I really hope that you know that I will still love you just as much tomorrow as I did yesterday, perhaps even a bit more for what we have just shared.  This experience doesn’t change a thing with me except that I now believe that I love you all the more deeply, and now when I will think of you, I will also have a wonderful memory of your tender touch and the clean smell of your strong body.  It’s a pleasing and loving memory to have, and I’ll always cherish this special moment.”

The two dressed, mounted their horses, and headed for Jemez just as Manuél briefly disclosed that he had had a similar experience when he had been a young seminary student back in St. Louis under the guidance of Father François.  “There was another student at the seminary from New Orleans that had demonstrated a special and intimate interest in me, and I believe that this fellow student was most taken with and fascinated by my dark Spanish looks.  We must have exchanged intimacies for almost a year before Jacque, that was his name, became so quilt-ridden that he told me that he didn’t want to continue.  I remember being terribly heart-broken even though I had experienced some of those same feelings of guilt myself; it never seemed quite that sinful, as I always considered it something so akin to love.  It had always felt so good to me to experience the touch of another man, and I never had the lingering or intense feeling for any length of time that I was doing anything wrong.  Since that time in St. Louis, I have never been with another man, or woman for that matter, until this very wonderful day, although I have often thought just how nice it might be to have this special and loving experience with you.  I’m so glad that it finally happened, and I’m particularly excited that it was you, someone I love so deeply.  And now, let’s discuss what we have to do in Jemez with that crazy young priest who would probably be shocked if he know what just happened!”

This totally unplanned, unexpected, yet so wonderful encounter in the river had only slightly delayed their journey, but just enough that they weren’t able to reach Jemez before the sun set.  It was fortunately in that phase of a full moon when the night was lit, the two Shamans were able to continue their journey; they rode on for what felt like several long hours before they actually reached a small adobe household that just happened to be close to their final destination of the Jemez Pueblo.  There was still some flickering light from a fire inside this dwelling, and the two cautiously approached, explained their mission, and asked if they could possibly spend the night there before continuing on to the Pueblo.  The occupants were a young Jemez couple and their infant child, and after recovering from their shock , the couple offered these night visitors a corner of their earthen floor near the fire.  These two Shamans shared their blankets; placing one on the floor and the other to cover their bodies.  They both rested their heads on the same bundled-up blanket, and before the night was finished they had scooted up close to one another and fell fast asleep in each other’s arms--safely undetected beneath that shared blanket.

The two men arose the next morning with the rising of the sun, graciously thanked their kind hosts, and were quickly off to the Pueblo.  They were able to arrive just before that young, exuberant priest had finished his morning meal, and they were invited to join him. They were quite hungry by this time, having not had anything to eat since their early afternoon meal by the river the day before.  As soon as they had finished their hurried meal, the three men walked about the Pueblo to get a feel for its physical surroundings, and of course, its people.  José had noted to both of them that his generally perceived feeling for the Jemez Pueblo was certainly not unlike that of his own Zuñi, and that he had once learned from his father that the Jemez were as steeped in their own religious traditions as his own Zuni’s perception of the world around them; they both shared many of the same ancient myths about their beginnings and their perceived central position in their known world.  José reminded Manuél that his father’s own name had come from that of a famous San Juan Pueblo Indian that had been one of the great leaders of the Pueblo Revolt of 1680.  The Zuni had not been as directly and thoroughly involved with that Pueblo uprising, but the Zuni had always remained very grateful that their northern brothers of such pueblos like Jemez and San Felipe had so courageously and unselfishly defended their ancestral lands and religious traditions against the aggressive Spaniards.

Father Fernando was a young and certainly over-zealous priest that was obviously struggling to gain any degree of respect from the Jemez people.  This still inexperienced priest had been given the dubious assignment of totally converting these heathens, probably a little too soon after he had received his liturgical education at a Catholic Seminary in Taos.  This seminary was located in the northern portion of the Province where the prevailing beliefs were not too dissimilar to those held by those earlier Spanish Franciscans: basically that these Pueblo Indians were essentially unsuitable for civilized religion.  It was an eye-opening experience for Father Fernando to have encountered such an educated, well-read Zuni that displayed an unbiased passion and respect for these Jemez heathens, and by the end of the day, Fernando was beginning to show some serious signs of changing his previously intolerable attitude towards his new Pueblo charges.

Early that evening, Manuél, with the help of José, had gotten a significant number of the Jemez Elders to meet with them at the tiny church.  It was there that José’s gifted and magnetic charisma was dramatically demonstrated as he went about persuading these Jemez Elders that their own religious beliefs were going to be more respected henceforth, and that they should make an earnest attempt to work with Father Fernando in maintaining at least the viable appearance of a cordial relationship with the Roman Catholic Church. “We are all children of the same ·awitelin citta (Earth Mother).  It’s just going to take a little time for these Spaniards to realize that we are her ancient children and just as respectful of her wishes as any Holy Father of the Catholic Church.”  He successfully convinced these Jemez Elders that an improved relationship with the Church would very aptly serve both the Jemez Pueblo and its people in maintaining a much needed peaceful relationship with the other Pueblos of their immediate area, simply because, and if for no other reason, they would be sharing this same spiritual nemesis--just like those herbs employed by the Medicine Man that can be used for either their powerful healing properties or their destructive qualities, depending on the intentions of the Medicine Man.  José said to these Jemez Elders, “We must all be wiser than our sometimes naive foes in the kinds of decisions that we make for the benefit of our people; the wise leader learns how to bend like the river willow that will not break in even the strongest of winds from the loud roar of the great ·anše of the west.  No matter how much the bend, the willow remains a willow and that never changes.  Even today, this priest has begun to bend his once rigid spirit and wishes to become more like your brother.  His spirit is now with you and your people, and he wishes to do all that he can to make your lives more productive.  I believe he is now willing to serve your best interests and share in your own understanding of this place called Jemez.”  It appeared that José had more than accomplished, in just one day of applying his simple and love-based wisdom, what Manuél had initially anticipated taking several days of tactful and perhaps even fruitless negotiating.

After the Jemez Elders had left the little church, the two Shamans and the priest carried on a rather short but intense exchange in which they all arrived at the obvious conclusion that the Church had very likely blundered in some of its initial directives to so thoroughly ignore these people’s own time-honored religious traditions.  They all agreed that it would best serve this struggling territory well if someone would actually carry this needed message to Mexico City and convince some of those Church Fathers that they ought to become a little more sensitive to and intimately familiar with these peace-loving inhabitants of this most northern diocese of theirs, particularly if they ever hoped to have any degree of lasting influence.  This misguided mission of force-feeding Christianity to the Pueblo peoples just wasn’t working.

It was at this point that Manuél was noticeably renewed in his original commitment to José that they would someday make this needed pilgrimage far to the south in order to engage these Church fathers face to face.  The three actually became quite respectful of one another’s theology, and this once rather naively arrogant priest appeared to have softened and even developed, in such unexpected short order, an authentic respect for the Jemez people, as well as a much-needed revision of the more practical and realistic purpose of his original mission.  One of the Jemez Elders invited the two visitors to join his family later that evening for some traditional Jemez food, and Manuél and José thoughtfully obliged the kind man as a show of their sincerity in helping these Jemez regain some of their lost spiritual tranquility.  After the meal and some rather lively exchanges, the two Shamans returned to Father Fernando’s dwelling and spent the night in much the same fashion as that night before: secure in each other arms before a roaring fire that had spent itself to ash-covered coals before the night had totally passed.

The next morning the Jemez priest suggested that the Shamans return via an alternate route that would take them to some refreshing and heated springs that were just to the south of the Jemez Pueblo.  Fernando said that he would gladly lead them there himself, and that the slight detour would be well worth the added time.  This sounded rather enticing to both Manuél and José, and since they had successfully accomplished their initial mission in such a short amount of time, they agreed to follow this priest, who had apparently only discovered these delightful hot springs just prior to this charitable mission of what could be described as spiritual emancipation.  The other likely outcome of the success of this visit would be the likely appointment of Manuél as the Bishop of this most northern diocese of the Church.  It was the thought that the summation of all of these diplomatic accomplishments would only add to the greater chances of a successful mission to Mexico City, and this little side trip to these hot springs would be just a little advance reward for the winning efforts of these holy men, both so passionately dedicated to the ultimate integrity of the Pueblo Indians and their uniquely kind-spirited beliefs.

Well, the detour to those enticing hot springs was truly a delightful experience as the priest had so promised them.  It was so enjoyable and clearly refreshing that the three men remained there that entire afternoon just switching from one hot spring to another, comparing the subtle differences between the various springs.  This intimate contact with ·awitelin citta (Earth Mother) through another of her wondrous telaššina·we was just further testimony that what was experienced as love and truth in one part of this world was just as valid elsewhere. With no pressure or expectations on any of them, they just soaked in those delightful hot waters that had been warmed with love in the nadir and talked about every imaginable subject, but naturally most of the talk centered on religious and philosophical subjects.  Since the young priest had been educated at the Taos Seminary, his exposure to a broad range of subject matter didn’t quite equal that of Manuél’s liberal arts exposure in St. Louis.  Fernando’s education was mostly limited to and centered on Catholic Church doctrine, the function of the pastorate, and how to care for a flock of wild Indians!

This receptive priest was quite taken and impressed with the manner in which this handsome Zuni had so mastered much of what Manuél had learned, and queried as to whether he might also borrow some of Manuél’s books.  Fernando had convincingly demonstrated that he was quite intelligent, and the exposure to these two liberal and exceptional Medicine Men was an eye-opening experience.  “What you have shared with me seems so natural and real and it has this most rewarding feeling of release, a feeling that I have had some unknown burden lifted from my very being.” As it was beginning to get dark, the priest hesitantly excused himself and said that he really needed to get back to the Jemez Pueblo before it got too dark, particularly since he was still rather new to the area and didn’t wish to get lost in the cover of night.  The other two decided that they would simply spend the rest of that night under the star-filled skies and depart for Albuquerque the next morning.

        The Pilgrimage

  Father Domingo’s Church in Chihuahua, Méjico

           As was always expected to eventually come to past, it was the early spring of 1834 when Padre Manuél Ortiz was finally appointed as the Bishop of the Santa Fe Diocese.  It was during the celebration of Easter in that year that Manuél was officially installed into his new position of church authority by a small delegation of priests that had traveled the Camino Real from La Ciudad de Méjico with word of his official appointment from the Holy Father in Rome.  The Cardinal that had accompanied this group stated that they had made the journey for that specific purpose as well as to take a brief survey of the Catholic Church’s progress in this most northern Mexican Diocese.  The ecclesiastical evaluation wasn’t taken too seriously by this small delegation; after all, these priests felt that the real business of the Church was all rightfully centered in La Ciudad de Méjico.  With Méjico having so recently been liberated from Spanish control, there was this renewed feeling of ecclesiastical power that was vested in the Church leaders in La Ciudad de Méjico. As much as Manuél had wanted the visiting clergymen of the Church to actually visit a number of the Pueblos for themselves, they seemed quite satisfied with just having some of the resident priests that were pastors to these disbursed Pueblos come and present themselves and a report in Santa Fe.  No doubt the very travel from La Ciudad de Méjico along the Camino Real was a trying experience in those days and it would have been easier for these priests to have the mountain come to them verse the added travel to the outlying Pueblos.  In a strange way this might have actually been of some benefit since these Church leaders would not have been able to actual give witness to some of the possibly questionable compromises that had been arrived at with the intentionally unbiased input of Padre Manuél concerning some of those local practices designed to maintain a significant portion of these Pueblo People’s own spiritual and religious integrity.  And with all of the added responsibilities that came along with this office of Bishop, it was some three years of Church politics, burdensome Church duties and even more of those awful and thoughtless directives from the south that would too quickly pass before that intended and now even more urgently needed pilgrimage to La Ciudad de Méjico finally manifested itself; So it was in the winter of 1837 that Manuél and José would finally set aside the needed time to venture southward for that rather awesome and certainly self-serving seat of Holy Catholic Church power.

          This projected journey to the south was unknowingly fated to probably require far less time than had originally been anticipated.  The actual time that was required for travel to La Ciudad de Méjico certainly wasn’t any less even with the Camino Real being well traveled in those days, but it was to be far more manageable for these pilgrims since Manuél, as a Bishop of the Church, was rightfully courted every courtesy along the way.  The first real opportunity for a needed break that gave both of them a chance to shift their emotional and intellectual gears from their usual daily routines and actually start in the preparing themselves for what was to hopefully occur with the Church’s full blessings came when they spent a couple of days immediately south of El Paso.  This community of gringos and Mexicans that was on the Rio Grande River was literally at the western tip of the territory of Texas and some of the residents seemed hard pressed to actually know what land belonged to Texas and what portions were really Mexican.  The culture was quite a contrast to the village of Albuquerque and the rest of the northern providence of Méjico in that it was decisively less Native Americans in its overall cultural mix and hardly any representation of the northern Pueblo Indians.  Just across the Rio Grande River from El Paso was the Mexican Village of Juarez and since these two travelers were headed to Méjico’s capitol, they decided to spend the night there before continuing on their arduous journey.  There was nothing that was particularly exciting during the eight days through the Mexican territory south of El Paso that was usually required to reach ultimate destination.  Their usual intentionally brief visits at some of the other churches in route didn’t allow for too much exchange nor any reasonable explanation for their journey, and this may have certainly been appropriate since their overall mission had a specific purpose that just simply didn’t have any direct relationship to these other Mexican Churches.  It was however, quite convenient for these pilgrims of opportunity as most of these Churches had enthusiastically provided needed rations for the journey and occasionally a place to rest the horses and spend the night.  This was a hard journey for the some eight days just from El Paso.  It was fortunate for these two who were definitely strangers to the country that this was a well-traveled route, as these trails of commerce were easily followed by simply keeping to the well-packed earth made so by the passage of horses and heavy-laden wagon tracks.  Much of the heavier commerce was founded on the mining of silver that was being routinely exported to the United States through Santa Fe, and the recently established commerce trail that left Santa Fe to points eastward completed the journey of this valued metal to points in the United States.

          The two very weary pilgrims arrived in La Ciudad de Méjico late one afternoon and headed immediately to the center of the town where they had expected to find the grand cathedral that would likely be the location for the liturgical heads of the Catholic Church for this rather expansive and diverse country of Méjico.  They were, after all, correct and were also most fortunate to make immediate contact with one of the more compassionate priests that graciously offered to house them during their unannounced stay in this capitol city of such diverse culture being both indigenous as well as a strong European influence.  It was the very next day that Manuél was able to persuade the Cardinal that was then head of the Mexican Catholic Church to assemble an appropriate panel to receive and review the various requests that the two had come prepared to present to the Church leadership.  This rather pious-acting Cardinal most likely had no idea of the actual full nature of their presentations and only assumed that what was going to be presented was more of a routine report of Church successes in that northern Diocese, and very possibly the usual seeking of approval for even further expansion in that area.  There is no doubt that the accompanying Pueblo ‘heathen’ was probably perceived as some token display of the evidence that the Church was successfully converting these indigenous people into those obedient subjects of Rome.  How terribly wrong for anyone to presume anything that these two Shamans might have been up to, as this panel was all too soon to learn.

          This initially well-intended trip to La Ciudad de Méjico bent on some needed relief from oppressive religious directives that more often than not compromised the integrity and moral freedom for the Pueblo Indians, turned out to be quite a disastrous fiasco; first off, Padre Manuél, after naturally and candidly disclosing his unusually high degree of respect for José, was totally humiliated in his initial meeting with this assembled panel of priests by being ever so severely chastised for having permitted himself to come under what was described as the “devilish spell” of a Medicine Man.  “You have obviously been possessed of some native daemons probably introduced to you by this strange heathen that accompanies you on this mission.”  Manuél was all too quickly accused of being devilishly mesmerized by this Zuni with the inscribed Christian name of José who was most obviously delusional himself to even think that he had any thing at all to offer to these revered spiritual Fathers of the Holy Catholic Church.  José was even shamefully labeled as a consummate heretic of sorts by one of those church fathers just following his own compelling and passionate plea to this increasingly biased council of five Catholic priests, one of whom was supposedly a rather highly respected Cardinal.  It was one of the frenzied Bishops of so little personal and spiritual stature that had contributed so irrationally to this totally unwarranted and hysterical accusation, and was actually going so far as to purposing that there be an immediate tribunal held much in that same tyrannical fashion of those that had been vicariously employed during that infamous Spanish Inquisition, “After all, we’re dealing with a heathen here.”  Of course, this most fanatical of Bishops was one of those leftover Spaniard bastards that should have rightfully been sent home with the rest of those Spanish-styled Franciscans that lack any semblance to Christian charity to which their order was so well known for.

          Manuél, having most providentially gotten word of this unexpected atmosphere of hostility from the only member of the assembled panel that had shown any appropriate degree of compassion at all, immediately took it upon himself to recant during his second audience with this panel of liturgical daemons, his initially proposed position on relief for these indigenous heathens that he had perhaps too enthusiastically presented to this obviously more than narrow-minded and most dispassionate panel of ignorant priests, but only with the firm understanding that no dreadful actions were to be taken against his Zuni friend, and that they both would be permitted to leave in solemn peace and return home immediately.  Manuél explained in the most compassionate manner that any serious harm to his companion would necessarily create great havoc upon his return to Santa Fe and should be avoided at all cost.

          Manuél continued his plea for a nonviolent leave with the greatest show of humility that was only the grand performance in the manner of a rightfully deceptive act called for under those most dire circumstances, went on to verbally recant his originally stated position with addressing this rather highly agitated council by saying, “I have come to see and fully understand, with the most charitable aid of your loving input, the very serious nature and error of my once blinded ways, and I now wish to withdraw any and all of these previously presented requests that were thought to be offered on the behalf of the Dioceses as well as the Cathedral of Saint Francis in Santa Fe.  I most humbly apologize for my obvious spiritual blunders; I was most certainly misled and terribly mistaken in the original nature of my mission, and I will surely rid myself of this most surely ignorant and arrogant heathen upon my return.  I would eliminate him immediately, but my return to Santa Fe without him at this time would most probably make my continued service to these heathens most unnecessarily difficult for me as well as any future Church authority.  I will deceive him in thinking that all is well with the Church and simply convince him that now is not the time for any changes in Church policies.  I beg of your holy Eminences, for forgiveness, and humbly ask that you give me leave without prejudice.  I ask our holy Jesus to guide and protect me from any further pollution of my faith, and to shed His own forgiveness for my most haughty of human faults.  Amen.”  Manuél, not wanting to give any further latitude to these most insane and fanatical priests, immediately excused himself; backing slowly away while still facing them with that well orchestrated and humbling demeanor; that readily apparent bodily posture was most deliberately, though not with any sincerity at all, poised in that very common manner of head-hung servitude and expected obedience to Church authority.  It was Manuél’s undisclosed resolve to retreat without arousing any further animosity from these totally unreceptive clerics that could have just as easily demonstrated their utter disapproval in that most terrible of Spanish fashion of holding another unwarranted and horrifically fatal inquisition.  It was only Manuél’s quick surmise of the potentially dire outcome of this situation that gave him the needed resolve to so dramatically deceive these Church bastards to believing that he had any change of heart at all.  He was not without that love for his friend that required the most intricate performance of humility and this whole awful scenario demanded an immediate reevaluation of his own commitment to the vows he had once taken in Saint Louis so many years before this spiritually wrenching event came to past.

         The ultimate effect of this insanely irrational encounter with what should have more rightly been a meeting of kindred and loving hearts was devastating for both of these loving Medicine Men; Manuél in particular had most shockingly recognized that he had so mistakenly and naively dedicated his entire life and being to a deceptively diabolical Church that he now knew was so terribly corrupted to the very core of its essence, and for the first time, Manuél actually began to understand just what José had tried to so respectfully and passionately disclose to him when he had once said, “I don't believe this man (referring to Jesus) to be a God, as some of your enthusiastic Christian brethren believe so emphatically, but I do fully understand what this man had more probably meant when he had first said, If you have known me, you have known God.  Manuél, I have come to know you so well and the loving compassion you possess deep within your own being for everyone with whom you come in contact.  To my limited, humble and ever so simple understanding as an uneducated Zuni Medicine Man, this is the only truly divine quality of a God.  Therefore, my knowing you and coming to love you as I do has taught me that your God does not exist as your religion teaches.  Manuél, to me you are God, I am God, Raquel is God and every man that lives that life of loving his neighbor without prejudice has the potential of being a God.”  These Church leaders showed no actual signs of loving any of their neighbors and only went out of their way to only demonstrate a ghastly power for which they had no true moral authority that would have been at all recognized by one such loving man as Jesus, or even such other truly spiritual mortals that have attempted to imitate his love and compassion for all of humanity no matter their origin.

          If anyone had actually been unexpectedly delusional, it was probably Manuél who had always demonstrated such blind devotion to and faith in a church that he now knew was so far from the real truth; that truth that should have set them free to actually do the work of love.  Manuél, with a most soulful tone in his voice addressed José, saying, “José, I ask you to forgive me.  I believe, no, I know, that I have been blindly serving the anti-Christ with such unquestionable and totally blind devotion, and I have been so terribly deceived by the meaningless ceremonies that have only paid lip service to a divine creed that was given by the simplest man with the most basic of all commandments.  I think I now possess a far better understanding of that once denounced-as-a-heretic Catholic priest, Martin Luther, and just precisely why he had himself so passionately declared that the Holy Father was indeed the anti-Christ.  You know, had I never come to know you and the love that you show so freely in your heart, I could have lived the rest of my life as part of this terrible travesty of lies and spiritual enslavement.  I don’t know what I’m going to do now, but I need to get back to my own familiar surroundings and in some kindly manner shield the very flock of those faithful that I have been so naively leading to this spiritual slaughter by what I had once and so faithfully believed to be, men of love and God.  You’re right, you know, and I now have no choice but to remove that cross from my medicine bag, not because of the man and his humble teachings that it rightfully represents, but because it has also inadvertently become a symbol of dire evil in the hands of my godless church that has abandoned his sole mission of love.  I believe I would prefer to be amongst the company of a “heathen” like yourself, than to keep the company of these tyrannical despots that have no idea of the true meaning of this divine love.  Please forgive me for bringing you here and subjecting you to these devilish and tyrannical men of no true sustenance who are not even worthy of your kind company; I had really thought that it would have been a great thing for us to have accomplished; I was so terribly wrong to believe that these ungodly priests would have been any different in person than what they had so often represented themselves to be in those massive directives of oppression, and I now realize that the evil to which even I have willingly contributed, is possibly greater that all the good that we have done or would ever be able to do.  I am just now confused about the future as it stands.  I think I now truly understand the real reason that Jesus was crucified; it wasn’t for our sins!  It was simply that he was teaching the truth and for us to love one another even more passionately than that faithless love that is so demanded for our multitude of false gods.  What a damn fool I’ve been.”  Manuél burst into tears, threw his arms around José and repeatedly said, “Forgive me, forgive me; please forgive me!”  José assured Manuél that there was absolutely nothing for which he needed any pardon from “me.  What you really need, my dear friend is to forgive yourself, not that you have ever done anything that would require a pardon.  I think Father François had taught you perhaps really all too well and he had, after all, sowed some oh so fertile meaningful seeds of truth that I believe have just finally geminated because it was finally their season to do so.  And it is always and only for us each to discover the truth in our own good time as life itself is often more sensitive to our needs than our own consciousness.  We have talked about all of this in so many different ways without fully confronting the harsh reality of our unique existence, but it is only in actually encountering an experience like this that actually opens our hearts and minds to fully discovering and accepting the truth and confronting the realities that we all too easily dismiss without any reasonable challenge.

          We’ve talked a great deal about these things of love and passion, but all those words only come to life when confronted in real situations like we have just encountered.  We’ve discussed all of this!  And in some strange manner this is truly a blessing more than anything else.  You see, my friend; this truth that we so brutally encountered this very day has surely freed us to simply do the right thing; that thing that lies within our own hearts alone and is governed by no one or anything except that of our own hearts and the love that lies so deep within.  Therein lies the only true god of all mankind!  The only true and absolute authority in this world is love, and love simply does not exist outside the confines of truth.  My friend, it has always been only truth and love that has guided each of our lives to this very point in time.  It is this very life based on love that caused us to come here in the first place, and just perhaps this has been a greater blessing than we can now realize in our shared state of spiritual shock; we should actually thank these church idiots who have so over-played their unclean hands and be ever so thankful that they were so terribly arrogant as to actually believe in their own empty and powerless authority; empty of that singular ingredient necessary for a full and joyous life that your great teacher, Jesus, had always and with such absolute passion referred to; love.”

          It was already getting to be quite late in the afternoon when this awful meeting with the church authorities had taken place, and even though it wasn’t the most appropriate time to start their journey home, they departed immediately with an intense sense of anxious haste and desperation. After hurriedly gathering their belongings that were still at the dwelling of the priest where they had initially taken residence, José and Manuél got as far away from the site of this horrid city as their horses would carry them in the early darkness of night.  It was so appropriate that they were to spend the few remaining minutes before they finally fell deep asleep that most anxious of all nights and totally isolated from all other humanity, in that most comforting position of just simply gazing at those infinite stars and knowing that they had just encountered the true enemy of mankind, and survived, even if a bit torn in their spirits for having just made this most disheartening discovery.  Manuél never did fully disclose to José that he had so humbly recanted, under the false guise of being so sincere and truly apologetic, to this insane and liturgical panel in order to avoid what could have turned out to being a total disaster had these dastardly priests actually formed a panel of heretical inquisition.

          The two Medicine Men awoke the next morning, later than they might have otherwise, due no doubt to the total emotional exhaustion of the previous day’s most sacrilegious encounter with the absolute epitome of the anti-Christ.  That rather understanding priest that the two had been the guests thereof during the shorter than expected stay in Mexico City had sent along several loafs of bread for their journey home, so they ate one of the loaves as they were departing their nocturnal place of rest.  The return journey retraced almost the exact tracts as their coming and when they had reached the village of Chihuahua late one very tiring evening; they actually remained that next full day at the urging request of an unusually compassionate priest that had detected in these two men of the cloth a profound sense of utter doom.  The two Shamans were easily persuaded most simply because on that very next morning, the weather had made an incredibly sudden change, reversing itself from those usually sunny and dry skies into a heavy overcast with the heavens suddenly relinquishing a torrential downpour that would have certainly hindered any attempt to continue their journey without some undue hazards.  Of course, Jose, took this show on the part of the heavens as an act of cleansing.  “These heavenly waters were sent to cleanse our spirits of any evils that we may have just encountered.  I am thankful that ·awitelin citta (Earth Mother) always knows just when to yield her cleansing and healing waters.”

          It only took this kind old gentleman only a few probing questions for him to accurately capture the essence of what had just occurred with the Church powers that be.  It was soon apparent to Manuél and José that this Father Domingo had pretty much arrived at many of the same sad conclusions about the spiritual coldness and abandonment of what should be a far more compassionate Church, even though his own personal route to this truth was entirely different in nature.  Father Domingo encouraged these two bewildered and weary-appearing travelers to remain in his loving care much like that of a nurturing Medicine Man that was about his usual business of curing a broken spirit.  And indeed, this wise man that had demonstrated a knowing and caring heart of pure gold had all the properly called-for ingredients and most importantly; having traveled pretty much the same treacherous path, knew what fatherly and loving advice to offer, that would aptly help both of these men to begin the healing of their broken hearts and spirits.  For Manuél, this unexpected encounter provided him the wisdom to know how to successfully remain in his present post as Bishop and continue his loving service to his own people without those nagging feelings that he was somehow betraying himself to his own set of loving values.  José was equally aided by much of the same advice that he had heard given to Manuél as his greatest pain was not so much for himself as it had been for the spiritual well-being his ever so close friend; after all, it was specifically that great institution to which Manuél had so intensely dedicated his life that had now so vehemently nullified its own spiritual justification and authority.  Both of these men had felt like they had encountered an angel of mercy in the body of this Father Domingo at just the very moment of tribulation when it was most needed.  Had this encounter been too soon following this rude crucifixion of spirit that was experienced in Mexico’s capitol it would have been too easily dismissed in the blinding heat of the moment?  The four days and nights’ journey to Chihuahua was just enough time for both of these men to have regained some degree of spiritual composure and realize that one didn’t have to fully abandon their life’s chosen path just because there were some perfidious thorns along the way.  It is precisely events like this fortuitous encounter that is often mistaken as some divine intervention, and this mythological God of our imaginations, too often gets the undue credit.  In this case, the full credit goes rightfully to Father Domingo whose own trials and tribulations with the Church had sculptured a loving heart of pure gold.

          Father Domingo, “You see, my good sons, I had once dedicated myself to lessening the burdens of my brothers.  I chose the path of the Church, believing it to be the highest calling possibly for a simple child of a poor Português family.  I began my religious schooling as a young boy of fourteen and thought that I wanted to come to this New World and save those heathens from their inevitable damnation that I had been taught was due them because they lacked the knowledge and acceptance of our God.  I was eventually afforded my ill-fated wishes to serve, and soon found myself in a strange land south of here called Columbia, and I was working deep in this foreboding jungle with these strange native peoples.  It took me a great deal of time to even learn their means of communicating and in learning their simple language I also learned many of their unique customs.  Most interesting of all, I was taken in by their Witch Doctor whom I later came to understand was actually their spiritual leader of sorts.  As I learn more about these simple people and their unique customs, I began to realize that their only need for my God was something only in my own head that was surely place there by the Church; they had a simple way of life that already served their basic needs and when I observed the caring manner in which they related to each other and to their pristine surroundings with such a show of utter respect, I began to seriously question the need of my presence and most particularly my own theology that was born of a different time and place to theirs.  I made it a point to actually learn all that I could from these rather innocent people and discovered that they had a deep spirituality equally as profound as mine.  The only thing that I could see that they might have lacked was the proper words in their own language to fully express many of their daily actions that reflected an inner peace with themselves that they so totally shared with their surroundings.  I was sort of taken in and accepted by these lovingly simple people as they never initially judged me or even questioned my own motives, and in some strange fashion, I felt I had become one of them even more than they had even begun to accept my own modest spiritual offerings.  They were truly simple children of another god.

          It was obvious by other observers that I had gained the confidence of these simple people, and the Church mistook this congenial appearance of things as a sign that I had somehow won their souls to our own Church and its doctrine of obedience.  It was in conjunction with an unexpected visit from one of the Church missionaries that it became apparent that these indigenous people weren’t as blindly obedient to our Church traditions as was then prescribed by the Holy Father in Rome.  When the leader of these misguided missionaries had so naively attempted to impose certain unfamiliar rituals on my native friends, they most naturally revolted, and when this certain priest then made irrational demands with an unyielding authority for their absolute obedience, he was simply killed.  I’m not quite sure how I eventually avoided being held totally responsible for this unfortunate incident, but I was, in any case, immediately returned to Spain for what the Holy Church had called reconstruction of my faith.

          This liturgical instruction actually served me well, but only as a platform upon which to reevaluate my own faith in light of what I had learned from these native Columbians deep in the jungle.  I played along with these sincerely earnest priests that were attempting to restructure my lost faith, but wondered at every junction of their carefully crafted instruction if they really understood anything that they were so earnestly attempting to teach, particularly since none of them had even encountered the realities of the new world and its unusual inhabitants.  They just hadn’t experienced what I had been so fortunate to encounter in that tropical jungle.  The more I observed their so routinely habitual actions that seemed so devoid of any warm and loving human feelings, the more I envisioned them as soulless puppets that were being animated by some devious puppeteer whose only aim was to control the ultimate outcome of some master plan that had no real element of compassion for the masses of people that are thus constricted by the horrific imposition of that demand of absolute and blind obedience to this Unholy Catholic Church.  There was definitely something missing, and I felt with the deepest resolve that I had discovered that missing element somewhere deep in that primitive jungle, and all I wanted to do was get back to the New World and discover even more for myself.  I pretended to respond to these mindless puppets of the Church, offered my own fashion and show of obedience to most intentionally and deceptively gain their naive approval and endorsements, and thus manipulated those powers that be just in order to get a new assignment.  It turned out to be this Mexico, and I was initially assigned a small mission in the Yucatan area and remained there for some time just secretly doing all that I could to help the pour natives and serve the Spaniards that were the captive residents in that tropical village that was situated by the sea.  These Spanish settlers seemed quite content to be enslaved by the Church, and I simply honored their empty traditions and wasn’t motivated to make any harsh changes; after all, I really didn’t have anything else to offer them.  They had be raised in the tradition of their parents and grandparents and had no ideal that there existed anything of any real value other than what they were all given as children of the damned.  What I had learned from my own enlightening experiences only meant something to me, and I decided that I would at least attempt to not have these people of nature to be swept as deeply into this ugly abyss of blind obedience.  When the Church, finally recognized my covert mission, they immediately relocated me to where they thought that I could do no further harm to their intended oppression of individual spiritual freedom.

          So, I’m here, in this isolated desert of human existence, simply and humbly performing those routine and repetitive duties for what often feels like a herd of human cattle being fed and having only to look forward to their eventual and certainly unceremonious slaughter.  There is no real meaning to life here, and the most inspiring, and at the same time despairing event, is the birth of a child.  I am in one instant overjoyed with the promise of new life and then I realize that this child will all too soon loose its original innocence, and be swept away with the rest of the marauding herd.  I am now content to simply maintain the peace; I only attempt to teach these miserable souls how they should try to love one another and find joy in sharing what little they have.  Beyond that, I have no further purpose in this life.”

          “Let me share with you my final conclusion on this whole terrible mess that I have encountered, and just what I feel you have just likely experienced for yourself.  I’m a bit of an outsider, just for being Português, and this bizarre state of my presence existence has given me the opportunity to view this whole travesty from a different perspective.  There are two happenings that have taken place in this tragic land of Méjico.  First, there is that of the secular domain and this was ruled by the Spanish soldiers of fortune in search of their fabled El Dorado.  As long as there was any hope of finding gold in this New World, they were hysterically ravenous in their efforts to conquer anyone that might had stood in their way.  When it was finally concluded that they weren’t to find this great city of gold, they lost their fervor and were justly expelled, which is why Spain no longer rules here.  The greater of the tragedies is the undeclared and ruthless mission of the Catholic Church, the success of which is sadly measured by the number of peoples that they bring under the spiritual domination of their secularized theology.  These far less-educated Spanish Franciscans were still acting like they were part of the Inquisition that had so tragically taken place in Spain; they really don’t know any better, as their teachers were just as misguided in their understanding of the true mission of the Church.  I don’t understand where they went so far astray, considering the loving nature of their founder, Saint Francis?  The reason that your own noble mission failed so dismally in Mexico City was the diabolical difference between your rightfully conceived passions to respect your peaceful Pueblo people, and those unspoken troubling needs of a godless Church hierarchy to exert their immoral and absolute authority.  Whether it has been the Church or those secular bastards, the essence of it remains the same vicious daemon of greed; the want of wealth or the want of absolute power.  In neither case is there any degree of love or true compassion for those that are so wantonly conquered.  They conquer both the body and the spirit leaving an empty shell of despair.  Sometimes it might have been far more merciful that so many were actually slain in the name of our heartless God; at least they didn’t have to live in that austere slavery of body or spirit!  What a tragic waste!  These Spanish bastards are an evil bunch, and so I deal with it all as best I can.  At least Spain no longer rules, and I wish that the Church had been equally and justly expelled with the rest of the Spanish bastards.  So let me tell you how I deal with this Church that still rules these poor people’s souls.  I intervene for them in the best way I know that might help in some small fashion.  When they seek my council, instead of giving them some Church contrived and dictated rhetoric, I simply inquire of them, “How do YOU feel about this matter?  Let your heart direct your actions so long as they are founded on love, and God will respect your decisions as long as it is only that love that motivates those actions.  Something liken to that nature of true and unselfish love!”  Manuél had never reached these conclusions for himself; perhaps he just never had the time to step back and take an introspective look.  José suggested, after just a bit of deep thought, “Instead of us just gazing up at those heavens perhaps we should have taken flight like the Red-tailed Hawk and simply viewed this world of ours from afar.  I respect what you have just shared with us and it makes a great deal of sense.  I know that this has all come to you because you have lived it, and in time we could all become wiser if we would only listen to the call of our own hearts.  That was something that my father had taught me to do, and to always listen to what our brother has to offer us.  The more liberated eyes that are used to view our world, the better the perspective it is for all.  No one man or Church should do our seeing for us.  If that were the case, we would have no need for our own inner eyes.”

          It was early the next morning and it was as though the heavens, having accomplished their intended mission of delaying the two Shamans, that it was a bright clear day, and a welcomed sign to continue on with their return journey.  In those remaining days heading for home these two repeatedly exchanged words of both utter despair and then wonderment of just what the future might actually hold.  Manuél, “The least that we can do is to continue to serve our own people in the best way possible and hope to make their lives at least mean something to be desired.  I’m just not sure what that will be?  Who am I to decide for anyone what he or she should do or believe?  I truly believe that our dear Português friend had the right solution in listening to the hearts of those that we serve.  Perhaps I need to learn how to just be patient and be there when someone seeks my council.  In the meantime there are so many routine things to accomplish, and I need to learn how to accomplish all of this without showing any signs of my own inner and utter despair.  I just don’t know if I have the strength to bear this inner burden.  It’s sort of dishonest to pretend that things are as they should be.  That’s the part I will need to learn to deal with more effectively and to do it in such a caring manner as to not ever disclose my own most troubling doubts.  Before this trip, I really had believed that the Church was there for its people and that what Jesus had taught us was still being taught and actually experienced.  I have been so unjustly blinded by even my own experience of joy in life and the greatest part of that joy has been my great friendship and shared love with you and Raquel, two great and loving friends that aren’t even Christian.  So what has the lesson been for me?  I think it is that the love in our hearts is so much greater than anything we will ever be able to find in any religion that is found to be so full of hate and despair.  How did this Church get so far astray from the original truth?”  José really didn’t have too much to add to all of this, but he simply and humbly proclaimed, “All that my father even hoped to accomplish was to bring healing to his brother’s bodies and peace to their spirits, and beyond that simple endeavor he never had any other selfish or even lofty desire in life.  He taught me to keep my own ills and pains to myself, and to always serve my people with a look of confidence and joy in everything that I would ever hope to have accomplished.  It was a most simple approach and totally without any want for himself.  He was devoid of that hatred that we had just so unfortunately encountered with your churchmen.  I don’t know how your people have come to tolerate this?  I take it that they just don’t they know better?”  Manuél, “They have always known nothing else but this one Church.  They have had nothing to ever compare their lives with; no alternatives, and your more than generous sharing of your Zuni traditions and beliefs with me so freely and in such a loving manner, without ever judging my own faith, has been your great gift to me.  I’m one of the fortunate ones to have encountered real love!”

The two Shamans returned to šipa·puli·ma and Manuél remained there for two days of rest as though he was hoping to regain that spiritual strength that has been so terribly usurped by this demoralizing experience.  There was so much to just think about, and now, Manuél not only wanted to gaze at those heavens; he now began to consider viewing his own world from a more lofty perspective of the great Red-tailed Hawk.  Since the entire journey had been so truncated by this foreboding encounter with those spiritual bastards, Manuél still wasn’t expected back in Santa Fe at the Cathedral of Saint Francis.  The two healers shared all of their experiences with Raquel who listened with such great intensity and compassion, and who would repeatedly express her wish that she could have been there to comfort both of them in their most desperate moment of deepest despair.  Raquel was so closely attuned to her friends that she vicariously identified with all that they had shared, particularly their great distress and spiritual pain, and yet not having lost any perspective by having remained home, she was able to comfort them in the knowledge that nothing had really changed on the home front, and that they would be able to continue quite successfully in the pursuit of their own noble and loving missions, only now, with the understanding that what they would now be accomplishing would be so much for the better, knowing that their hearts were no longer unjustly torn between an oppressive Church and the real needs of its people.  “You both have so much to give these people, and now you know that what you have to offer is solely from your own hearts.  I can only say that I love you both all the more for being so courageous in light of your newfound knowledge.  Don’t let this experience blind you from the truth.  I had always had my doubts about this Church, and I’m not a bit surprised at the outcome of this noble effort on your parts; I knew that your hearts were in it, and I had so hoped that you would have been truly successful because you both so deserve to have been treated with greater respect.  Any churchman that can’t see the love in your hearts is obviously blinded by the great hatred that he harbors in his own spirit.  Be very thankful that you are both strong enough to continue without these bastardly devils’ most unholy of blessings.  You have so much more to offer; love.  Why don’t the two of you pay a needed visit to the sacred telaššina·we and there seek to regain your own inner spiritual strength!  Those most holy of waters have the power to heal even the most broken of spirits.”

       Powerful Medicine

           The next two years quickly passed with each Shaman continuing in their usual manner, but not always with the same passionate vigor that had been so easily and naturally displayed prior to that most fateful journey to Mexico City.  The inner most turmoil that the fateful pilgrimage had caused the two Medicine Men never subsided, but both of them maintained their stoicism by never revealing through any of their actions an outward appearance of any less enthusiasm. But life was never the same, and Raquel, being so closely associated with the two, observed in both of her dear friends an inner sadness that just wouldn’t subside.  To every one else around them everything seemed quite normal, and no one had even the slightest clue that their disappointing trip to Mexico City was anything else except what was initially planned as a noble mission.  In fact, José had joined with Manuél for even another of those diplomatic encounters with another of the pueblos; this time it was the Taos Pueblo that was just north of the little village of Taos.  It was an equally successful effort as would have been expected, and despite the fact that these two Shamans knew that there was no actual change in the Church’s continued oppressive policies that dealt so harshly with these perceived “heathens,” the two proceeded as though they had the Church’s full blessings and authority in sanctioning some of the more than reasonable requests made by the Taos Council.  The two priests that were then ministering to the church at the Taos Pueblo simply assumed that everything was in its proper order since it was, after all, the Bishop himself who had made this particular journey and concurred rather enthusiastically with the requests of the Taos Pueblo Council.

         This particular mission eventually had some far reaching consequences, since this Taos Pueblo was one of the more influential members in what was to become a sort of federation of “northern” pueblos in this Spanish territory.  With an intuitive anticipation of this federation, Manuél was particularly careful to lay the groundwork for even further spiritual emancipation of the Pueblos from the total domination of the Church. While the two Shamans were visiting Taos they were also able to spend some valuable time at the Taos Seminary, talking and exchanging some thoughts about the Church’s role with the native peoples in an intentionally tactful manner, further influencing their theology about the church’s efforts with an improved assimilation strategy for these various indigenous peoples that would (in some fashion) avoid the entire annihilation of their own traditional religions.  Many of these suggested and added “compromises” in the performance of actual religious ceremonies actually took root, and in many ways the Catholic faith was ultimately far more tolerant and adaptable in its day-to-day application than any of the initially stringent policies that had been propagated by higher church authorities had initially intended.  I guess one could have easily concluded that what the church didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt them.  Little did these various Pueblos ever know just what a wonderful and loving friend they had in the person of their Bishop, Manuél.  What Manuél had laid down as acceptable to the Church tended to remain in place without question or detection and was never reversed, even after he was no longer the Bishop of the northern diocese.

It was in the late fall of 1839 that José remembered that it would be Tomaši’s ninth year, and that this would likely be the given year of his induction into ·anše·kwe (Bear Clan).  Most of the Zuni ceremonies usually took place at the beginning of spring or in the fall following harvest.  Such an induction usually occurred anywhere between the ninth and twelfth year of a Zuni boy’s life, and in the case of Tonaši, who was so obviously preconscious, there was little question that he would be initiated at the earliest opportunity.  José, having knowledge of these religious seasons, made special arrangements to return to Zuñi in a timely fashion for the anticipated celebration as well as for other special ceremonies that would likely be planed for that fall season.  José made this return visit with only Raquel, as their good friend, Manuél, was simply too preoccupied with various Church duties and just didn’t want to risk turning his back on so much that he had been able to so successfully and covertly accomplish.  It was unfortunate that Manuél had to work solo much of the time, but there just didn’t seem to be any other local priests that Manuél felt were as sympathetic to his cause.  Prejudices that often took a lifetime to nurture were most difficult to change in an oppressive atmosphere where the Church’s harsh policies and judgments were the usual business of the day.  If only José could have been a priest!

José’s return to Zuni for this special visit was rather uneventful except for the expected discovery of what an excellent job Popékâke was performing since his having assumed the esteemed role of Zuni’s chief Medicine Man some six years prior.  The young and tenacious Tonaši was naturally excited and consumed with his imminent initiation, and he was already showing those expected signs of becoming a prominent Medicine Man that had been so wishfully thrust upon him from the very moment of his birth.  Popékâke had obviously been doing a fine job with his initial care and training of the young Tonaši, and José even suggested in a complimentary fashion that it was quite possible that Tonaši would be able to accomplish all that he needed right there in Zuñi without the execution of added training that was to have eventually taken place in šipa·puli·ma.  Popékâke said, “I would gladly send Tonaši home with you on this very journey of yours except that his loving and sometimes over-protective mother, Símacoya, really wants Tonaši to wait until he is at least in his twelfth year.  I suppose Tonaši will likely be even more mature then, (not that I don’t feel that he is sufficiently grown now!), and he would most likely benefit more from your and Raquel’s most generous offerings and spiritual guidance.”  After four busy days filled with the various ceremonies, feasting on Zuni’s traditional foods, and the usual renewing of old friendships, the two Shamans departed for their little adobe in šipa·puli·ma.

It seemed as though the time just flew so rapidly for the next three years, with all three of those šipa·puli·ma Shamans pretty much involved in the same routines, until the two Shamans at the little adobe were finally joined by the young Tonaši, who had been brought to them by his proud father, Popékâke.  While Popékâke was still at the little adobe, José took it upon himself to make a special expedition to the telaššina·we so that the three of them could renew that very first visit when Tonaši was but an infant in their arms.  Raquel had chosen to remain behind so that the men would not be constrained to the timetable dictated by Raquel’s need to be close to her garden during these rather hot and dry days.

This particular trek to the top of the mountain was one of the most pleasant, since it was mid-summer and all the foliage was very much alive.  The only thing that was noticeably missing on this particular occasion was another encounter with the great Bear, and there was some stated concern that perhaps this great Bear’s spirit had simply departed this world, considering the number of years that had passed since it was first encountered.  It was on this particular occasion that José asked Popékâke to officially present Tonaši with his own medicine bag--that specially crafted bag that had actually hung about Popékâke’s own neck for these 12 ensuing years.  Popékâke had actually wanted to present the bag to his son at Tonaši’s initiation into ·anše·kwe, but Popékâke also understood that such a special presentation was a special privilege of a ·akw·a mossi (medicine chief), and he knew that it would likely be this present occasion that such a proper presentation would take place.  The medicine bag, after all, was initially a gift from José.

José requested that Popékâke remove the medicine bag from around his neck and hand it to him, and then, in the most loving and caring tone, he addressed the young Tonaši. “I, Kiasiwa, as the ·akw·a mossi of Zuni’s šipa·puli·ma, do present you with this medicine bag that you are to henceforth wear about your own person, and do so with great pride, as it carries with it the great departed spirit of Naiyutchi, the spiritual father of us all.  I am only offering one addition to its contents: a feather from the under wing of a Red-tailed Hawk.  It is something that is very special to both me and Raquel, as it represents our shared hopes for your continued growth on this sacred path to becoming a proud Zuni Medicine Man, and it specifically represents those lofty ideas and ideals that Raquel and I intend to generously share with you while you remain here and in our loving care.  As you grow and learn more about this great path that has been laid out for you, I will help you add even more to the contents of this Medicine Bag, and when you have finally completed your prescribed lessons, we will all return here to this very telaššina·we and celebrate your achievements.  On that occasion I hope that Raquel, as well as the presence of perhaps another Great Bear who I have so missed on this special occasion, will accompany us.  As your spiritual father and teacher, I welcome you into our sacred tikanne (curing society).”  José gave Tonaši an affectionate embrace, and while holding him ever so close, said “You are Zuni’s future, and I will do everything in my power to assure that that future will be an honorable one for all of us and most particularly, my son, for you and your family.  I will share with you all that I have to offer and all that I am.  I remain alive these days for only these reasons; to insure that my people will have a spiritual leader that is only led by the love that is in his heart.”  The three Shamans descended that same day as there was no particular need to remain any longer, and since it was one of those longer days of summer, they were able to reach the little adobe long before the sun was to set beneath the mountain where the sacred telaššina·we poured forth its pure waters.

It was anticipated that Tonaši was to remain with Raquel and José for some three years of intensive guidance, which was more than sufficient time for this exceptionally gifted student to learn all that he could from these two caring and loving Shamans of šipa·puli·ma.  It was Raquel herself that took the greatest care and time to teach Tonaši all that she had acquired about the various medicinal herbs that were not only indigenous to this šipa·puli·ma area, but also those that she had learned from Tonaši’s grandfather, Koškáti, back in Pescado.  The young Zuni was fast to learn everything that Raquel had to offer and was even able to share with her some of his own understandings that he had acquired, and things newly discovered by Zuni Medicine Men since the time that Raquel and José had first departed in search of the mysterious and spiritual šipa·puli·ma.  The relationship between these two became almost liken to that of a mother and son, and Raquel’s growing affection for Tonaši deepened far beyond even her greatest expectations.  In fact, Raquel actually presented Tonaši with the better part of his practical training.

Tonaši was introduced to another of those traditions of these Shamans of šipa·puli·ma and that was the late evening ritual of just lying beneath the stars before retiring for the night.  It was on many of these frequent occasions that José would often share his own wisdom and present Tonaši with many of his more intellectual and spiritual lessons about the kinds of attitude that Tonaši should hope to maintain in the performance of his daily duties as a Zuni Medicine Man.  José was always concerned with the true nature of the heart as much as he was with the mind, as the heart is the sole source of love.  Tonaši had been well prepared by his father in most matters, and what was added to this mix by these two Shamans of šipa·puli·ma was José’s immediately teaching Tonaši to read and write both Spanish and English.  With no other pressing duties outside of actually helping Raquel with the culture of her garden, Tonaši could devote nearly his entire time with these new linguistic lessons, and being the intelligent student that he was, he had acquired the very basic skills by the end of his first year in šipa·puli·ma.  Tonaši had indicated that his father had never had the time to learn these reading skills himself, as he had always desired.  Tonaši stated that he wanted to at least learn enough so that he could possibly teach Popékâke so that he could read that book that José had originally given him and that had remained in view as a constant reminder of Popékâke’s unfulfilled dreams.

Manuél, always deeply feeling like a part of his Zuni family, also had various opportunities to instruct Tonaši during Tonaši’s several extended visits to Santa Fe, particularly during those winter months when being inside was just the natural thing to do in order to avoid the cold weather.  It was towards the end of that third winter in 1844 that Manuél was taken with an illness that he wasn’t able to overcome.  There is no doubt that his constant but carefully concealed bouts with depression related to his tenuous relationship with the Church contributed to his body’s inability to fight it off, or perhaps it was just a simple lack of a strong will to live that is so necessary to successfully combat any debilitating illness, and it was late in March when Manuél finally yielded to this disease and died. Manuél was perhaps too young in years to actually be gone, but there was no question that he was too worn by disappointments to have had the energy to remain living.  During those last couple of months it was Tonaši that had become his consummate caretaker, and he was even at Manuél’s side when he finally passed away.  This had been quite an undertaking for one that was so young, and in those last desperate and fading days, Manuél experienced through the eyes of one so young a fresh spring of hope that the future would continue to produce true seekers of the truth.  Precisely in that same tradition of Naiyutchi, that great Zuni Medicine Man who had spent his dying days dedicated to the education of Popé, this gringo Medicine Man bearing that same great name but clothed in the black and oppressive garments of Catholicism was solely dedicated to sharing all that he could with Tonaši in those last months.

Just before Manuél finally died, he removed his own medicine bag and gave it to Tonaši, saying, “This is of the same spirit as the one that you now wear about your own neck, and I want you to keep this one safe until you are able to give it to your own son.  Tell him for me that it came from one of his spiritual fathers that lived a life apart from the Zuni.   The very makings of this bag actually came from your Zuni people, and I return it to you for your safekeeping until that day comes when you will give it to your own son, who I hope will be able to wear in the same tradition as have all Zuni Medicine Men.  It has become more precious than anything among my personal possessions, for it has been warmed by my very heart, the embers of my great love for the Zuni, and most especially all that I have learned from and shared with José and Raquel. This is what has always fueled my passions even to this very end of my life.  Tell them for me that I love them both beyond their greatest imagination, and that even though my body may depart this world, my spirit will remain with them in our most sacred šipa·puli·ma.  One day we will all meet again at the telaššina·we, and I believe that even the great Bear’s spirit will be there waiting to share those sacred waters.”  It had been at the persistent request of Manuél that Tonaši not disclose just how sick Manuél had become in those final days, and for that reason, Manuél’s dear friends, José and Raquel, were not at his side when he finally gave up the ghost.  Manuél had requested when that time arrived that he be buried alongside his mother in the village of Placitas, and so his body was immediately returned there for internment.  While Manuél’s body was being properly prepared and then transported to Placitas, Manuél’s place of birth, Tonaši made a hurried trip back to the little adobe to inform José and Raquel of Manuél’s death and imminent burial.

Manuél’s body was taken to his parent’s home where the entire surviving family had gathered.  When José and Raquel arrived, José requested that he and Raquel be left alone with the body, at which time José performed an especially created ceremony befitting a great Zuni Medicine Man.  Having been informed by Tonaši that Manuél had given him his own medicine bag, José removed his own and placed it around Manuél’s neck beneath his black garments.  “Take this with you, my loving friend, and let it protect you wherever you may be.  Because you are in my heart always, this medicine bag will continue to protect and heal my own heart in your absence.  These tears are the purest waters of love and I shed them in memory of a great friendship that even death cannot take away.  I will continue to gaze into those heavens at night and when I do, I will know that you are still beside me; always my most intimate friend and Zuni brother.  I will miss you, my friend, and in some strange manner I feel that I may be with you sooner than you may know.  In your own special manner, pray for me and watch over Raquel as one of those angels that you had once told me about.  She will know when you are present, and know that she always loved you like the true brother that you remained to this final day--and days to follow.”

Raquel stood next to José during this especially tender moment with her arms gently draped about José’s shoulders, and Raquel could not help but also shed tears. “I love you, Manuél, and I will miss having you in my life.  I thank you for all that you gave so lovingly to Tonaši.  You will always remain with us in spirit, and your love will surely survive forever.”

Tonaši remained for most of that rather sobering year, and in the late fall after the last of Raquel’s garden had been duly harvested, together these three surviving Shamans all returned to Zuñi.  Popékâke was now in his fiftieth year, and though he was still quite healthy and alert he encouraged his son, Tonaši, to join him and share in all of the various duties and ceremonies involving Zuni’s cherished Medicine Man.  Tonaši was certainly younger than most Medicine Men when they first take up that sacred role, but Tonaši still had his father at his side in all that he pursued, and this would remain the case for at least another 12 years.

This visit to Zuñi would be the last time that José would lay eyes on his beloved homeland and its gentle people.  José had no cognitive reason to know this except that he felt unusually tired by the occasion of this particular trip, and knew that he wasn’t getting any younger.  His other thoughts dealt with the confident manner in which Tonaši was approaching his role, and José was comforted with the knowledge that his people had a good future in the loving hands of this exceptional Medicine Man.  José’s last fatherly advice to Tonaši was that he should find himself a fine Zuni woman that was an equal to Raquel, and have many fine sons to carry on the traditions of their family.  José, in the most sobering words, softly confided in Tonaši, “You know, I am deeply saddened that there has been so many changes of late.  A strange breed of people has invaded our ancestral lands, and it will sometimes be most difficult for you to hold on to the old ways of the Zuni.  I want you to be especially strong in your resolve to always regard our chosen path with the greatest of respect.  It has been this tradition alone that has sustained the spiritual integrity of the Zuni people, and without it our people would surely perish into that unknown darkness of the nadir and very possibly be forgotten forever. There may come a day when there will no longer be a Medicine Man to carry the spiritual burdens of our people.  I wish that I could have written the words that some loving Zuni could read someday at an unknown future time, words that could lead them on the sacred path.  I have failed in this matter; I have not even recorded the full story of the discovery of the telaššina·we or the grand wonderment of Zuni’s šipa·puli·ma.  Perhaps you will be able to do this one day, and if you do, please remember to include a special note about our spiritual brother, Padre Manuél.  I am so very tired, even at my age, and this is not a good sign.  I no longer have the resolve that is required to do all that I have done so easily in the past, and most sadly of all, I truly miss and grieve for my dearest of all friends, Manuél; I truly long to see him but one last time.  I’m afraid that I am to become a burden even to my dear Raquel, and I believe that it might be better if I lessen this burden on her and simply depart this wretched life of mine without notice to anyone.”  José went on to request that Tonaši not share his utter despair with anyone, especially Raquel. “I simply don’t want her to worry about this tired old man.”

José and Raquel returned to their adobe after lingering in Zuñi for almost a week of solemn goodbyes.  Just before José left on this journey, he learned that the Iglesia de San Felipe de Neri had acquired a new pastor.  The Bishop that had only recently replaced Manuél made this new assignment of Father José Manuél Gallegos who had studied at the Taos Seminary, and this newly assigned priest didn’t really have the same compassionate feelings regarding the plight of the Pueblo people.  This wasn’t as pertinent as it had once been in the past since this church in Albuquerque didn’t serve as many Pueblo peoples as it once had.  José continued to serve this Catholic Church rather sporadically in those past few years up to this time, and with this new pastor taking charge, José was finally relieved of all those duties that he had once so faithfully performed, as well as being stripped of his title as a Deacon in the Church.  This was of no surprise to José, and in fact, José welcomed this final severance from the church in Albuquerque, since his good friend, Manuél, was no longer around to share the assumed burden of what little remained of any meaningful mission of salvation.

It was the very next year, in 1846, that the Mexican Period finally came to an abrupt end for this northern territory, and José felt like there had been a great cloud lifted that had unwontedly hung over the land.  José had truly regretted that Manuél hadn’t lived long enough to witness this most welcomed change in governments in which these new governing “Americans” had at least the outward appearance of a more liberal attitude that they most proudly denoted as “religious freedom.”  Of course, there was an added infestation of several new Christian religions that all zealously claimed that they had the only correct answer for salvation, but most of their various efforts were quickly repelled by many of the Pueblos, whose at least outward appearances seemed quite secured within the narrow confines of the Catholic Church.  In a strange manner, this very Church that once attempted to so oppress the Pueblo peoples now served to actually protect them from the next wave of religious despots like a scarecrow in some fertile field.  How ironic!  With this limited sense of a brighter future and at the same time some looming sense of doom, José in the late summer of that year, sent word to Zuñi of his latest official proclamation as the ·akw·a mossi (medicine chief of the societies of šipa·puli·ma).  Having some remote feeling that he wasn’t to be long on this earth, José decided to appoint Tonaši as his successor.  José had no expectations that Tonaši would even reside in this most sacred and beautiful šipa·puli·ma, but since Tonaši was initiated and actually lived there for some period of time, José knew in his heart that Tonaši would always have a special spiritual connection with the telaššina·we.  And even more importantly, Tonaši would be remaining in Zuñi where he would always be the most needed.

José was spiritually exhausted, physically tired, and believed that he had accomplished all that he had ever expected, so he just didn’t maintain the needed will to continue his relentless struggle with life.  He dearly loved Raquel, and was always concerned for both her physical and spiritual well-being, but José knew that she had become quite attached to this sacred šipa·puli·ma and would likely never leave her garden to be tended by anyone else.  Raquel had simply become a spiritual part of their adobe and the very land that it sat upon.  It was just a short walk to her most sacred Medicine Rock--that singular place where she was always able to regain her strength for a passionate life.

In any case, it was late in the fall of that year and just before there had been any early snows that José departed alone for the sacred telaššina·we.  José left his adobe behind early that morning before Raquel had awakened and took with him just a blanket and a couple of loaves of bread.  José actually had no specific intentions in mind when he had initially departed that morning, he only knew that he had been spiritually drawn to that sacred mountaintop that morning when he first awoke and followed that urging instinct.

José was in a most pensive mood, and his journey to the top of the mountain was extremely leisurely in that it took him the better part of three days to finally reach the spring.  Along the way he would pause for hours at a time and just recount his life as a Zuni Medicine Man and ponder the many wonderful times that he had spent with Raquel and Manuél.  He remembered with tears occasionally appearing in his eyes both the funerals of Manuél’s mother and Manuél himself.  He recalled and thought about that fateful trip to Mexico City and just how it had so dramatically changed both he and Manuél, and how sadly neither of their lives had never been quite the same since.  His thoughts kept returning to that of Raquel and her lovely garden.

José would intermittently say to himself, “What am I doing?  What am I doing here?”  It was at about noon on that third day that José finally arrived at the sacred telaššina·we, and he ventured just past that point to sit on the edge of a cliff and gaze off into the western sky.  He was sure that he could see Zuni in the far off distance, and imagined for just a brief moment that his spirit had ventured where he could actually experience the aromas coming from the cooking of the Zuni women and the sounds of Zuni men exchanging the wisdom of their modest daily lives.  José watched as the sun neared the horizon, and well before it was ready to set he returned to the telaššina·we; there he spread out his blanket away from and just east of the spring, took off all of his clothing and placed them in a neat stack next to a nearby tree, then placed a recently crafted medicine bag atop that pile of clothing, and took a last refreshing drink of those sacred waters using only his cupped hands and dipping into the cool spring several times in a slow and most deliberate fashion; it was a final christening of his Zuni spirit.  José then laid out face down on the blanket with his head specifically facing the setting sun, shivering a bit from the chilly fall air.  For just a brief moment José imagined that Manuél was there and rubbing his back with that cool wet sand from the Rio Grande River, and with that comforting thought, José had none of those earlier lingering thoughts about just why he had come here to the telaššina·we; it was as though his heart knew that it was time to simply quit beating, and José’s broken spirit left his chilled body and ever so easily flowed into the telaššina·we where it rightfully joined the spirits of those other departed Zuni Medicine Men, perhaps to be also greeted by Manuél’s loving spirit.  It was a peaceful passing from his troubled world into a place of eternal rest.

As these three final days’ happenings had been taking place, Raquel was vicariously experiencing these moments leading to José’s death at the telaššina·we.  Raquel had awakened that first morning just after José had departed and immediately had the shivering feeling that she would never see her friend again.  That first day after his departure, Raquel remained in the adobe and had gathered some of José’s clothing that had retained his scent and simply laid on her bed that entire day and into the evening lovingly clinging to all that she had of his that had been so close to his body.  Her eyes were often wet but there were no visible tears, and Raquel eventually fell asleep that night without ever having eaten a single bite or taken a drop of water.  When she awoke the next morning she realized that her apprehensions were probably correct since José had not returned.  Her first impulse was to go after him, but she knew in her heart that her efforts would likely be in vain and that it would be a heart-wrenching experience for both of them that would only make it all the more difficult for José to complete his mission. Raquel actually ate some food and drank water that day, and each time she would partake of food or water, she would affectionately think of José and imagine that she was eating and drinking for him as well.  She kept sending out loving thoughts that she was actually by his side in spirit and with him on every step of this final journey.  That second night she again slept with his clothes snuggled against her body after spending a brief time outside the adobe lying on the ground and gazing into the heavens.  “I am here with you, my friend, and I will remain by your side forever.”

On that third day Raquel did what would have been expected of her in that she ventured to her beloved Medicine Rock where she would once again linger in the hopes of regaining the strength that was going to be needed to continue her life without José.  She spent the better part of that afternoon just recalling all the wonderful times that she had had, not only with José, but also with their dear friend Manuél, who she missed so much.  It was late in the afternoon, at the very same moment when José had finally given up his spirit to the telaššina·we, that Raquel’s eyes were deliberately, intuitively, and slowly drawn to that portion of the mountaintop where the telaššina·we poured forth its sacred waters.  There appeared to her the strangest signs in the sky above this portion of the horizon, and I could only suggest that it must have resembled those northern lights caused by the sun’s reflection off the earth’s ice cap.  When Raquel saw these strange signs in the sky her body quivered, and she had the most distinctive sense that it was at this very moment that José had surely died and most gracefully returned his beleaguered spirit to that darkened nadir directly through that sacred telaššina·we.  Raquel eyes immediately filled with tears and without even realizing what she was doing, she removed that little glass vial from her medicine bag, removed the bees wax stopper and began collecting the flow of tears that soon filled the vial to overflowing.  When the vial had been totally filled with her tears, she replaced the stopper and put the tiny vial back into her medicine bag.  It was only at this point that Raquel remembered that José had once told her that she would knowingly put into that tiny vial her strongest medicine, and she knew in that very instant that those tears were the sweetest symbols of pure love, and that they had been truly shed for all that she had ever shared with this most loving of all Medicine Men.  When this thought occurred to her there was another deluge of those loving tears, and having nothing else with which to collect and preserve them, she scooted to one side of that Medicine Rock and permitted them to simply fall in that indented area where she now realized that those collected rain drops were nothing more than sacred tears that had fallen from those marvelous heavens above.  She cried with total joyfulness in her heart and continued shedding tender tears of love until the great sun eventually sunk completely behind their beloved Sandia Mountain. 

“Thank you my dearest friend and brother, Kiasiwa.  Don’t you know that I could have as easily shed these tears without you having to depart this troubled world of ours?  I will deeply miss your sweet presence and your many words of loving encouragement, but I know that your beautiful spirit will remain behind in these tears that will always remain next to my heart.  How could I have ever foreseen so many loving years ago that I would be collecting my own tears to replace holy water?  How did you ever know to give me this tiny vial, and to think that it once belonged to our dearest of all of our friends, the most loving and compassionate Manuél.”

Raquel returned to the adobe in the fading twilight, still shedding an occasional tear every time her mind would recall this unusual experience, and she kept saying over and over in her mind, “I love you, I love you,” as she realized that it was, after all, love that was and would always be the most powerful of all medicines that any Medicine Man could ever possess in his medicine bag. Raquel realized that the tears shed for one that is so loved is perhaps the best symbol of love itself.  From that time forward Raquel would often clasp that special medicine bag, knowing that it contained the essence of her strongest medicine, and until the day she died Raquel was empowered with this knowledge, and even though she missed both of her friends dearly, she continued to display the greatest strength in all that she did; in so many ways Raquel demonstrated an inner strength that only women can summon because of their unique gift of being able to give life.  She actually gave life to the memory of her two friends in all that she did from that day forward.  Even in her last years she had the fortitude to continue her services as a midwife and did so with the spirit, enthusiasm, and vitality of a much younger woman.  Raquel displayed an inner strength that even her two friends had unfortunately lost in their own last days on this earth.  She was intimately aware of these great losses for a passionately lived life, and every time that Raquel would do something for another neighbor, she would silently and affectionately say to herself, “I’m doing this for you, José, and you will always be the only true source of my strength.  You will always be remembered for your great show of love, and I will see to it that your story and the memory of our friend, Manuél, will not be forgotten.”

                       AFTER THE FACT
 

There were several interesting aspects that surrounded this whole story that just didn’t seem to belong in the main text and yet I want to share some of these intriguing antidotes with you so that you might have a greater appreciation and perhaps even a better understanding of just some of the inexplicable mysticism that existed behind so many of the story’s events about which I had no prior knowledge.  Much of this story involving the history and events of the Zuni Medicine Men seemed to have simply written itself as I sat composing at my computer.  Most unexpected and spiritually intriguing of all for me was that unrehearsed yet inspired initiation of Manuél and Raquel at the telaššina·we atop Sandia Mountain; I frequently had tears coming to my eyes while sharing this whole experience as though I was an actual participant with absolutely no preconception of what was taking place.  I was also taken with and totally surprised by the unanticipated turn of events in Mexico City, although the events seemed natural considering the oppressive history of the Roman Catholic Church.  I had my own hopeful and intuitive thought that these Southwestern Medicine Men would naturally have succeeded at almost anything they set their minds to achieve, but all too sadly, we all know that life just isn’t always fair and just.

On May 14, 2001, I first received an e-mail from my Native American friend, Eric, who was then working with the Jemez Pueblo on promoting some commercial trade products that had been created by Jemez craftsmen.  Eric was a prominent member of the Narragansett tribe of New England and had acquired exceptional computer skills that he was employing to help develop a marketing strategy for native Indian handicrafts.  I shared with Eric some of my own family’s mythology:  we possibly have some Black Feet Indian blood.  Eric suggested that his own people’s native language and that of the Black Feet both shared some of the same linguistic roots, which would mean that they possibly shared some of the same ancestry.  Well, I had related the basic portions of this story to him and of most significance to him was the portion where José had ascended the mountain and specifically laid himself out on the east side of the telaššina·we with his head deliberately facing the west.  I have no idea if this has anything to do with Zuni mythology per se, but Eric said that the dead of the Narragansett tribe are always buried with their heads facing the west.  Eric was impressed that I had intuitively specified this fact in my telling of the story, and my own perceptive take on this matter was simply that our spirits should follow the setting of the sun in entering the telaššina·we.

It was sometime in the year 1995 that I saw a talk show with the guest appearance of Shirley MacLaine who, when asked by the hosts, Charlie Rose, if there was anything that she hadn’t yet accomplished as part of her rather exceptional and charmed life, she quickly claimed; “The only remaining accomplishment that I would want to achieve would be the making of an “adult metaphysical film.”  Eric reported that he had worked with Ms. MacLaine on several Native Indian related projects as well as something to do with doll making and the 18^th  Century.  Eric confirmed that Shirley was indeed still working on this life’s unfulfilled “project.”  After seeing Shirley MacLaine on the Charlie Rose Show, and being the orchid grower that I am, I naturally named a particularly beautiful orchid in her honor that was registered  with the Royal Horticultural Society (RHS) February 12, 1996.  Having the knowledge of her unfulfilled desires, I was imagining that she might become involved with the making of her “adult-metaphysical” movie, possibly using this very story as the basis.  Nothing has come of this except that my loving roommate has framed a picture of that orchid and attached the RHS certificate of registration to the back of the picture:  Oda. Shirley MacLaine ‘San Damiano’ is the name of the pictured orchid.  Perhaps someday this will find its way to Ms. MacLaine who also has a residence in this beautiful Land of Enchantment, near the ancestral home of the Jemez.

I wanted to know just why the well-published artist, Lawrence W. Lee, had gone about painting what appeared to be a Plains Indian with a prominent long-stemmed orchid that seemed so naturally predestined to serve the story of San Damiano in such an overwhelmingly natural and authentic manner as the very cover of this book.   I had so hoped to eventually travel to Arizona to meet this exceptional artist personally as soon as he returned from Mexico sometime in September of 2001.  As it turned out, I was so preoccupied during those fall months that I never found the time to make that trip.

It was finally in the early days of that December, when I had finally finished writing this book that I so desperately needed to get the rest of this man’s story about the painting.  It was the morning of December 15 that I finally got around to e-mailing Lawrence:

“Lawrence, You must be out of town or out of touch?  I would still very much like to talk to you about the Native Indian/Orchid print that will hopefully be used as a cover to, Shamans of San Damiano.   The book is essentially finished with the exception of YOUR story, assuming there's one to be told....  Hope to hear from you soon.....

J. Lamah Walker.”

Early that same Saturday afternoon I received a prompt and thoughtful response from Lawrence, and as usual for my experiences with this whole project, in such an appropriate fashion that I didn’t have that preconceived notion that I needed to actually meet this man in person.  Only because we both had shared what so many artists seem to experience, i.e. personal troubles of a varying nature, I am going to share his entire e-mail.  His personal disclosure of his saddened state of mind only adds to the entirety of this whole story.  How sad that so many of us suffer and usually alone.

Dear Joseph,

I’ve been out of touch only because I’ve been fighting a bout of depression, which is usually controlled by medication. Recent stresses in my life seem to have overpowered the chemistry, so I’m suffering an out-of-kilter sleep cycle combined with nightmares and night sweats, awaking every 2 hours or so.  Not fun.

Anyhow, all this has made it difficult to concentrate on much of anything, and most days, I just choose seclusion over interaction.  Given this state, I think I’d rather try to provide you with what you need via email rather than phone.

I recall reading, many years ago, about a painter who was asked to explain one of his paintings.  He reportedly replied: “Lady, if I could explain it, I wouldn’t have had to paint it.”

I feel much the same way, recognizing that there is something inside me that chooses visualization to bring it to life. Otherwise, I’m sure that I would have become a writer.  What I can tell you about “The Orchid” and, in large part, the body of my work for the past 30 years, is that I have often incorporated some sort of “cognitive dissonance” in each image, whether it be a flower, butterfly, fish, bubble or other icon.  These dissonances are what separate art from craft, in my view.  They add a specific and unavoidable psychological component to each image, which requires the engagement of the viewer and forces them, for good or ill, to “complete” each painting for me.  They are forced to participate in the painting by confronting and attempting to resolve the dissonance in order to give the work meaning.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then meaning is in the mind.  This may be why so many of my collectors have chosen to make my work part of their lives... not necessarily because of my name or the colors I favor, or even the general subject of the painting, but because they have become a part of the work.  The meaning of “The Orchid” is in my mind and cannot be shared.  It is also in yours, and the meaning you have found is just as valid as mine, if not more so.  I’m glad that you have resolved the dissonance of the shaman and the orchid, and thereby given it a meaning and life that I could not.  Thank you.

Sincerely,

Lawrence W. Lee

I was so deeply touched by his sensitive and ever so thoughtful response that I immediately responded.

Lawrence

Thanks so much for getting back to me....   ME TOO !!!   I just went back on Zoloft about one week ago, and just tonight I picked up another prescription for depression.
..
The Shamans of San Damiano is essentially finished with your nice comments.
.
San Damiano (the name of my home) is a place of healing and is where "Medicine Rock" was discovered by one of the Shamans (Zuni).....     If you are in one of those funks----YOU ARE INVITED TO COME FOR A VISIT.....   Interesting enough, my last employment was at the University of New Mexico as a psychotherapist.....  Not that I'm offering any therapy, BUT this is a special place and YOU are very much part of it.......   I'm sure that the spirits of the Shamans of San Damiano would want to touch you in a very special way; you have done something very special for them.........
.

Most affectionately,
.
          Lamah

And another bit of relevant trivia related to this story: it was sometime in late October of 2000 that John and I had traveled to Dallas, Texas, for him to do some installations of framed pictures for the Kirkpatrick Company situated here in Albuquerque.  We returned late one night from that trip and as I was driving down the driveway I noticed that some of the limbs of an apple tree seemed to be drooping a bit too much.  I didn’t really pay much attention that night, most probably because I was so terribly exhausted from the trip.  It was actually the second day after our return home before I finally noticed that the apple tree had been totally decimated and that all the apples with just one exception had been taken.  It was just about two years before this incident that a bear and her cub had been sighted in the subdivision, and that year every apple below four feet had been noticeably taken.  It was obvious that the young cub had eaten every apple in its reach.  Well, it is my take that this hungry cub finally grew into a great bear, and having the indelible memory for which bears are so noted, must have returned that fall for another fruitful feast.  In this case, the rather large, now fully-grown bear had obviously climbed into the tree in order to retrieve every single apple that couldn’t be reached from the ground and inadvertently broke and totally trampled all of the major branches, some of which were possibly as much as two and a half inches or more in diameter.  The tree was so totally decimated that I simply had to chop it down to the ground.

What I did do with the remains of that bear-damaged tree was keep the lowest 10 inches or so of its trunk with the hopes of eventually having some Native Kachina carver, using this piece of wood, carve for San Damiano a Bear Kachina.  After all, this whole story had to do with the great Bear and this home of mine, which bears that name “San Damiano.”  Well, it was November 26, 2001, that I paid a visit to the Turquoise Lady because I had heard that Cathren Harris had sold her business.  As luck would have it, Cathren’s daughter, Mary Cathren, was still there for that final week of transition to the new owner.  This new owner, John Herrera, had acquired the shop most assuredly because he had been one of Cathren’s more favored Kachina carvers.  Since I had intended to find a carver for my piece of “bear wood,” I shared a bit of the Shaman story with John and then inquired as to whether he might be willing to do something with a piece of apple wood trunk; particularly since apple wood is considerably harder than the traditional cotton wood used in carving Kachinas.  It was that very next Friday that I took him that saved piece of the trunk for his artistic consideration and at the same time suggested to John that he might wish to visit my San Damiano and get a personal feel for the home, see where that tree once grew, and learn even more of the story behind the book.

As fate and the nature of procrastination would have it, almost an entire year passed before I ever returned to the Turquoise Lady to inquire whether John had ever tested that piece of apple wood for its possible use in carving the Bear Kachina.  It was November 7, 2002, and that evening while in Old Town I found that John was off on a hunting trip.  I returned several days later with a copy of this book (this paragraph obviously not included) and found John at work.  John related that he hadn’t given up on seeing me again and at the same time had not commenced with the carving because of such a heavy workload.  After seeing the completed book with cover, I explained that I had hoped to include a picture of his completed carving; he became concerned that the yet to be carved Kachina might be holding up publication, and I assured him that the lack of progress was my own neglect and contribution.  He indicated that he would attend to the matter in a timely fashion.

With the passing of several weeks found me once again visiting Old Town with an out-of-town guest.  I dropped by to see John and introduce him to my friend.  That is when he had suggested that the piece of apple wood, because of its unusual density, might be carved as a base for the Bear Kachina and the Kachina to be carved out of the traditional cottonwood.  Since John is the expert, I conceded to the suggestion, knowing that his skill would be better served using familiar materials.  The piece of wood would still be an integral part of the finished Kachina and would be a fitting foundation for the project.

Now for the rest of the story as it pertains to my ‘déjà vu’ experience upon first hearing that melodic name, San Damiano, while viewing the movie Brother Sun, Sister Moon (see Chapter Two).  My sister, Barbara Walker Good, is the family purveyor of genealogy, and upon reading this book in one of its final edited stages informed me that I had left out a most significant historical fact.  In keeping with my own acceptance of the more recently discovered, and the now-known factor that genetic memory might play in all of our lives, I find this bit of family history noteworthy.  My sister reports that we are the descendants of   Henry de Apulderfeld, of Apulderfeld, in Cowdham, who, with his son Henry, were with Richard I at the siege of Acon, in Palestine (1190-1194) during the Crusades.  Our Apulderfeld descendant lived in Challock, Kent, England where the local church was established by the Apulderfeld family and is dedicated to Saint Cosmas and Saint Damian.  In a description of the church published in the local church bulletin, it states, "The unusual dedication of the Church was most probably brought by an Apulderfeld returning from Crusade by way of Greek-speaking lands, where St. Cosmas & Damian are very popular saints.”   It should be noted that there was only one other church established in England that honored these two particular saints.  The Challock church still remains active to this day, and the church bulletin further states:  "The Church of Challock being fallen down was new erected by the Apuldrefels as the glass windows and stonework in divers places, embroidered and diapered with the voided cross, which was their paternal coat of armour, do more than sufficiently testify.” (Note: The spelling of the family name “Apuldrefels” varied over time as well as the spelling of St. Cosmos, sometimes spelled Cosmas.)

My editor had critiqued this book prior to its going to my literary agent and suggested that I might add a bit about the outcome of my bout with HIV.  I am what the literature calls a longtime survivor and I was one of the more fortunate individuals in that I never commenced with medications until January 1996 when that infamous cocktail was first introduced.  I have experienced a healthy survival with just one exception; I have peripheral neuropathy in my feet which is the result of one of the side effects of one of the HIV medications.  As I write this, I am on a low dose of morphine taken in the evening so that I might be able to rest comfortably.  It is an aggravating affliction that apparently has no cure and the pain medications only dull the symptoms.  There are times when the pain is so aggravating, that I’m not able to write or enjoy the simple pleasures of life.  In any case and for the most part, I am most fortunate and grateful to be alive.

And lastly if not equally important, I have constantly wrestled with this whole nagging idea of suicide.  Here I have just portrayed a story in which two of the principal characters had simply permitted themselves to die in such a fashion that could be easily interpreted as suicide from our current social perspective.  It was another awakening on December 12, 2001, that I realized the actual significance of these self-sacrificing acts.  It had always been man’s instinctual nature to simply sleep when physically exhausted.  The entirety of each of our lives is very much likened to the light-filled daytime in which we are awake.  That time that exists for us before and after that life is the night’s darkness in which we are asleep; this darkness is the nadir that the Zuni refer to and we simply refer to as death--the absence of life (light).

I had once created a website that I had entitled TruthandLove.net and my signature on that site was simply, The Freedom Seeker.  Salvation is nothing more than another way of achieving “freedom from” whatever the obstacle is to our own “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”  In the spiritual sense, salvation is simply freedom from damnation, whatever that damnation might be!   My personal mission in life has always been to free others of their enslavements, not unlike the same efforts of both José and Manuél, struggling to lift the burden of the Roman Catholic Church from the Pueblo Indians.  Whether it is my own passionate crusade against the unwarranted oppression of others or that of those earlier Shamans, the relentless efforts are often totally exhaustive to one’s inner nature, and all that I had ever actually wanted to do after battling relentlessly with man’s most oppressive institutions was to simply lie down and sleep; enter my own eternal Nadir of peace.

     
                    Dancing With Sunsets

When all the words were said and done,
And the heart's song had been sung,
Spirit and soul was heaven bound,
Determined by another sound;
Gone forever, to be never found.

    A half's night sleep and not one dream,
    A morning's wake with no sunbeam,
    Night before unfilled expectation
    Of pregnant hope and fond elation,
    Now, stillness lay; a fear's summation.

        Wishing for those who stay behind;
        That one's love be an easy find,
        Each life be filled with ecstasy,
        With mind and body's liberty,
        Happiness found, and serenity.

            There is indeed a saving light.
            Be ever bound to not loose sight,
            In midst of storm, depressing horror
            Always treasure one's good neighbor.
            For love alone provides safe harbor.

                Farewell this life my soul depart,
                Behind I leave a lonely heart.
                Friends release and then freely lets;
                The soul at peace with no regrets,
                To be forever dancing with sunsets.

                                                June 12, 1999