Nashoba
One Too Many
- Messages
- 1,384
- Location
- Nasvhille, TN & Memphis, TN
When I was a teenager I sat at the edge of the drum listening to him sing. He was a quiet leader. He would sing a song that none of us knew and would repeat himself until each of our singers had committed it to memory and the women behind the drum had worked out our part. Then he would explain the meaning of the song and inevitably crack a joke that turned the teaching moment into something precious. He was a World War II Veteran. He did amazing things in his youth, and even more amazing things in his old age.
I sat at his feet for many years soaking in the precious teachings that he and his wife would offer. It was never an overt lesson. That isn't the Kiowa way. It would always begin with me sitting quietly by him at a Powwow, or at drum practice. He would turn to me and quietly comment on this or that, then tell me the Kiowa way regarding it. I never asked questions because I knew he wouldn't answer them. It was from him that I learned to listen and wait, to watch and learn. When he prayed, it was in Kiowa, and he would give small lessons in the Kiowa language to me whenever he could interject it. I wish I could say I learned something of the language. He was a singer, a medicine man, and a respected leader. He took this lost Choctaw / Cherokee child and gave her Kiowa tradition. And from his wife I learned the Chippewa ways. Today I know more about their traditions than I do my own. And I'm proud of that.
He taught me the meaning of the Gourd Dance, the warrior's dance. He taught me when to sit and when to stand behind the drum in the center for gourd. And when to sing. His wife taught me that I had the right to stand with the women along the side and dance the gourd. And they taught me the right way to do it.
He came from the family that learned the bugle calls of the US Army and used them against them. He was proud but un-assuming. Fierce but gentle. He taught me the difference between real tradition and mysitfication. He taught me much more than the southern songs. He taught me respect, honor, and the proper way to do things.
And then there were his stories. He always had a story, for everything. Some were old, some he created, all had a punchline. And you were never quite sure if he was joking or not. All were teaching moments. Whether you realized it at the time or not, all of his stories were meant to teach in one way or another. And so I learned. I learned how to walk the Red Road and how to honor it.
They were there when I first entered the arena as a dancer when I was a teenager. He was there to bless my outfit and tell me to make him proud. Six years ago his wife asked me to honor them and their family by dancing jingle for them. She designed my regalia. And once again, he was there to bless it and bring me into the arena for the first time wearing it. This time as a member of their family. He was also there to bless and bring my husband into the arena as a dancer. He and his wife taught me that dancing is more than putting on regalia. It's more than the contests and the money. Dancing is heart. It's healing. It's a gift. And they gave that gift to me.
Tonight at 5:15pm he passed over to the other side. His wife is also struggling for her life, and with him gone, I know in my heart that she will follow soon. They have been two of my greatest teachers. The lead singer of our drum has been another and he is their adopted son. I was taught well. I am only grateful that we are here in California and can be at drum practice tomorrow to help sing his soul home. I do not believe that to be an accident. And I am grateful for the unseen hand that ensured my presence.
I have been told by those who watch me dance that I have powerful and strong medicine. If I have anything, it came from them. They had a huge influence over the dancer I am today. And in their honor, I will dance jingle until the day that I too pass over to the other side. I no longer dance for myself. I dance for him. I dance for her; her health and her safe, peaceful passage to the world beyond ours. I pray that she will not suffer too long before reuniting with him. I dance for the family that I was asked to represent. And I dance for those who need me to dance. They gave me so much, I only hope that they know how much that meant to me.
Thank you Burley. Thank you for many years of memories that I will always treasure. Thank you for teaching me the proper way to do things. Thank you for your wisdom, your blessings, and your love. The blessings you bestowed on me and the regalia I wear, will stay with me forever. And I will carry you with me each time I enter the circle, and I will know that you are there. I love you, I will miss you, and I will tell my children your stories. May you rest peacefully in the arms of the Great Spirit until we meet again; my elder, my teacher, my friend.
I sat at his feet for many years soaking in the precious teachings that he and his wife would offer. It was never an overt lesson. That isn't the Kiowa way. It would always begin with me sitting quietly by him at a Powwow, or at drum practice. He would turn to me and quietly comment on this or that, then tell me the Kiowa way regarding it. I never asked questions because I knew he wouldn't answer them. It was from him that I learned to listen and wait, to watch and learn. When he prayed, it was in Kiowa, and he would give small lessons in the Kiowa language to me whenever he could interject it. I wish I could say I learned something of the language. He was a singer, a medicine man, and a respected leader. He took this lost Choctaw / Cherokee child and gave her Kiowa tradition. And from his wife I learned the Chippewa ways. Today I know more about their traditions than I do my own. And I'm proud of that.
He taught me the meaning of the Gourd Dance, the warrior's dance. He taught me when to sit and when to stand behind the drum in the center for gourd. And when to sing. His wife taught me that I had the right to stand with the women along the side and dance the gourd. And they taught me the right way to do it.
He came from the family that learned the bugle calls of the US Army and used them against them. He was proud but un-assuming. Fierce but gentle. He taught me the difference between real tradition and mysitfication. He taught me much more than the southern songs. He taught me respect, honor, and the proper way to do things.
And then there were his stories. He always had a story, for everything. Some were old, some he created, all had a punchline. And you were never quite sure if he was joking or not. All were teaching moments. Whether you realized it at the time or not, all of his stories were meant to teach in one way or another. And so I learned. I learned how to walk the Red Road and how to honor it.
They were there when I first entered the arena as a dancer when I was a teenager. He was there to bless my outfit and tell me to make him proud. Six years ago his wife asked me to honor them and their family by dancing jingle for them. She designed my regalia. And once again, he was there to bless it and bring me into the arena for the first time wearing it. This time as a member of their family. He was also there to bless and bring my husband into the arena as a dancer. He and his wife taught me that dancing is more than putting on regalia. It's more than the contests and the money. Dancing is heart. It's healing. It's a gift. And they gave that gift to me.
Tonight at 5:15pm he passed over to the other side. His wife is also struggling for her life, and with him gone, I know in my heart that she will follow soon. They have been two of my greatest teachers. The lead singer of our drum has been another and he is their adopted son. I was taught well. I am only grateful that we are here in California and can be at drum practice tomorrow to help sing his soul home. I do not believe that to be an accident. And I am grateful for the unseen hand that ensured my presence.
I have been told by those who watch me dance that I have powerful and strong medicine. If I have anything, it came from them. They had a huge influence over the dancer I am today. And in their honor, I will dance jingle until the day that I too pass over to the other side. I no longer dance for myself. I dance for him. I dance for her; her health and her safe, peaceful passage to the world beyond ours. I pray that she will not suffer too long before reuniting with him. I dance for the family that I was asked to represent. And I dance for those who need me to dance. They gave me so much, I only hope that they know how much that meant to me.
Thank you Burley. Thank you for many years of memories that I will always treasure. Thank you for teaching me the proper way to do things. Thank you for your wisdom, your blessings, and your love. The blessings you bestowed on me and the regalia I wear, will stay with me forever. And I will carry you with me each time I enter the circle, and I will know that you are there. I love you, I will miss you, and I will tell my children your stories. May you rest peacefully in the arms of the Great Spirit until we meet again; my elder, my teacher, my friend.
It's never easy to lose someone close to you but times heals all things. Let me know if there's anything I can do.
