Standing in at Standing Rock

One of the difficulties of being at Standing Rock is maintaining balance when dealing with all the misinformation, misinterpretation and missteps encountered while making a place in that very organic, organized chaos of a community of prayer and resistance, natives and non-natives, ages, families, working groups. It was impossible for me personally to be unaffected by almost everything I saw and heard. This microcosm of our world and of the native/non-native intersection was a powerful reminder to me, as an anglo, of what we miss or lack in our culture of exclusivity, consumerism, limited vision and disconnection from Mother Earth. I again felt the pang of envy for the songs I heard from native women or men as they sang to their Mother. Where are our songs for the water, the air, for the next generations? I went to the river and made up my own.

Overview of Oceti Sakowin with police presence on the ridgetop.

I had the privilege of spending five days at the camp between November 21st and 26th , observing, volunteering, assisting my hostess with bringing over water and tending the fire. Time slows down at the camp. The day is measured by the rising sun and the call of the drums and voices to get up and join in the prayers. Then the daily chores of camping out, offering assistance where needed and doing a lot of walking...from campsite to water, from campsite to portapotty, to the kitchen for food, to meet up at the community center or to what is commonly called Facebook hill or media hill, where the press corps hang out and everyone who needs to connect with the outside world heads to post their emails or make phone calls. It's a lot of walking. But feet allow you to connect with the Earth and with the others at camp.
And my meetings with folks here were always surprising and enlightening. One way or another. Lots of young people here and I took advantage of sitting around Sacred Fire with some of them to hear their experiences. There are seven Sacred Fires tended constantly; anyone can add wood to the firepit and be warmed by its heat. I was warmed by conversations as well.
Everyone want to know: "What's it like at Standing Rock? Was it safe? What about the police?"
First, I didn't encounter any direct violence but I did observe the aftermath of traumatic stress with several people who were in the event on Sunday and that gave me pause. Second, as a woman, I felt more respected and safe at Standing Rock than I do in many places. Women are greatly respected among Plains people and the Lakota, Dakota, Nakota. It was very sweet to be addressed as "auntie" or "grandmother" and offered help from the youth. Meals are served in this order: women with children, other women, then elder men and youth.

My journey to North Dakota along the pipeline route  has come to a close. At least the driving part is done. Coming to terms both internally, politically, emotionally will not be easy. Leaving the camp and my companion/sistar/warrior woman, Dell Hambleton, on Saturday morning was very hard. I took time to stand by the Cannonball River, pour out the blessed water I brought from the Oconaluftee River within the Qualla Boundary, Eastern Band of the Cherokee Nation. My spiritual support sisters and I hiked to a point where we could collect the running water in September, add our prayers for peace and reconciliation and awakening that I carried with me across the country.

With the now empty bottle, I scooped up some of the Cannonball River and her energy and prayers to take back with me. But when I arrived, first at the Ft. Yates burial site and then at the monument to Sitting Bull down the road, I was called to take the water with me as I looked out over the Missouri River. I imagined how he himself had plied these rivers, drunk from its waters and gazed upon the flowing grasslands that once teamed with buffalo and elk. I knelt facing the River and poured the Cannonball River water into the soil around his monument. I want to believe his spirit enjoyed the drink. Then it was time to face south east and journey home. Here is a video from his great granddaughter. 

I can't explain Standing Rock to you in a few blog posts. I may never be able to completely explain it to myself. Perhaps the following essay can help.

I have more photos and reflections in preparation. This journey isn't over.  It has simply taken a rest. Please stay connected.

Updated: Day 6 now includes the link to the interview at KHOI. Worth a listen, not just for me but several other voices on the issues surrounding the DAPL.

Day Six: Cruising and I'm over you Iowa

[WARNING: Upsetting photo ahead] To drive this pipeline means a constant adjusting to straddle the line, moving back and forth as much as possible, on the lookout for telltale signs of the construction work and places that are safe to pull over for a photo. Not an easy thing with a cell phone for my map and camera, voice recorder, learning to geotag, fumbling for hot coffee and watching for road signs and slow moving tractors. You can see my current location in South Dakota tonight.

I wasn't able to stay on the backroads and county roads all the time. I had to make decisions based on making a certain distance, finding a place to sleep, and seeking out key locations that needed to be observed. While I'm very tired and my pony (The Great Blue Viber) is showing me she's ready for some rest by flashing the check engine light at me, I am fully aware of the gift this has been. I have learned so much about the way a pipeline is built, seen this impressive region up close, been welcomed by strangers, and am ready to arrive tomorrow at the Standing Rock Reservation.

I am grateful for these seven days of intense connection with this Earth, which was not easy to understand many times and was not all beautiful or uplifting. Such was the case this Sunday morning. I began to notice that the hog confinements/factory farms kept getting bigger and bigger. Nearly everything has become a commodity, something to bring in money without regard to its beauty and value as a form of life that shares this planet with us.

Cruising a back road, I caught something laid out on the small dock of one confinement operation. I turned the car around to check if what I thought I saw was real. It was a sow put onto the concrete dock possibly the day or night before. I stopped to say a prayer for this pig and all those inside whose only crime was being born into a situation which they did not choose. And when she was no longer 'productive' she was laid outside like trash. It may have been the only time she had experienced sunlight in her entire life. I don't know. Was it a dishonor to take this photo of a pig's death? (No, I didn't trespass; I took this from the road.)

I took that photo to remind me that animals aren't merely resources, they should be honored for the gift of their life and no animal should be drug outside to hang over the edge of a loading dock like a piece of carpet. There is much more to heal in the heartland beyond pipelines.

For every harsh reality and confrontation, there are always gifts. My gifts along the way have been the fortuitous meetings, connections that seem so random yet mean so much, the ability to slow down and sense the Earth more fully.

This journey would not have happened in this way if not for this guy, Nitin Gadia. His life in Ames, Iowa, is not always recognized for the contributions he makes. His skills at adapting complicated statistics and data into map is nothing short of extraordinary. We only had a little time together and I hope that others will contact him and learn from him about the important work of mapmaking. Maps are power. Maps are keys to our world. Nitin is more than a mapmaker, he is a storyteller. And that is what makes his work so powerful. Thank you, Nitin.

Nitin introduced me to KHOI Community Radio in Ames and the station manager, Ursula Ruedenberg, who took me into a studio and began a conversation/interview that opened up a lot of emotion I was carrying about this trip. She also took me home, fed me and gave me a home for the night.  Thank you Ursula and the great folks at KHOI.
Here is the link to the interview plus several more include the amazing Nitin.

And to all the cashiers at gas stations, the coffee vendors, the waitresses at restaurants, the person who fed my meter in Ames, the bald eagle that graced my vision in Illinois, the rivers that seemed to laugh with me when I wanted to cry for what we do, for Joseph who keeps me grounded with talk of home and makes me laugh every day and all the people who read this blog or see my post on Facebook and comment about what I'm doing and where I'm going, well, thank you.
 Yeah, western Iowa gave me some harsh lessons but it also provided time with family, cousins and an aunt, I haven't seen in several years. I guess there is grace in every situation.

And so it's good night from South Dakota....tomorrow, Standing Rock.

"Nature is not a place to visit. It is home." - Gary Snyder