All Souls

l' qe i st'mčʔelt u qe čxʷuymntm łuʔ sntmtmneytn xʷl hecyaʕ snxpew's sxlxalt, u qe wičntm łuʔ qʷamqʷmt čʔul'sey'utyeʔ u hec c'ek'ʷmi łu l' skʷkʷʔec. 

My daughter and I visited the cemetery for All Souls Day, and we saw the beautiful candles shining in the night. 

Mi hija y yo visitamos el cementerio para el Día de Todas las Almas, y vimos las bella candelas que brillaban en la noche. 

Flames of Orange and Gold

My friend Connor is visiting Spokane from the East Coast. Yesterday afternoon, we drove to Wellpinit to see my uncle, but as we passed the petroglyphs at Riverside State Park, the gray clouds burst into flames of orange and gold. It was one of those moments that would have felt wrong to ignore or dismiss. We simply had to stop and offer our respect to the sun and the beauty of creation. 

People who follow my blog regularly will notice that I often post sunset pictures. I am fully aware that photographs never fully convey the magic of those moments; however, I am perhaps foolish enough to believe that simply pointing to the beauty will inspire others to seek out their own connection to the Divine.  

The trail seemed to lead directly into the sunset. 

The Little Spokane River. 

The fiery sky was reflected in the water. 

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As an aside, I am experimenting with taking pictures in RAW format, rather than JPEG. So far, it reallly does seem to offer greater flexibility in editing things like the white balance and such. All of the pictures in this post were taken in RAW format and then converted to JPEG. 

The Magi

These three magi figures were standing in a Mexican restaurant in Newport, Washington. Artistically, I thought they were quite beautiful. Culturally, these statues made me wonder about the magi of the Bible. The word magi comes from the Greek magos, meaning magician. By definition, the magi would have practiced some form of magical arts from the ancient world. According to one source, this term referred to certain followers of Zoroastrianism of ancient Persia. This word could also refer to people who possessed astrological or esoteric knowledge. Yet strangely, English translations of the Bible almost always change the original word to read as 'wise men.' 

Personally, I prefer the original version. They were not simply 'wise men,' but scholars of magical wisdom from another age. 

The Creator and the Whale

In my dream, I saw an old Indian man standing on the belly of a whale. Specifically, he stood at the end of the ventral grooves on the underside of the belly, and I stood at the opposite end near the mouth. Despite the strange position of its body, the whale was very much alive. The old man stooped down, touched the belly of the whale, and caused some invisible energy to flow within one of the ventral grooves. Then he sent several more currents, and each one forced me to change my footing.

Finally, I complained and said, “Just when I get accustomed to one flow of energy, you send me another. Is it too much to ask for some stability in my life?”

The old man said, “Who made the mountains rise from the ocean floor and fall beneath a hundred million years of wind and rain? Who caused the earth to spin on its axis and give both light and darkness to the people? Who designed the flowers to spring from the ground and then wilt beneath the summer’s heat? Who created the seasons of life and death, youth and old age? Who established all things from the beginning to the end? Did not I?”

The old man dressed poorly, with a tattered blanket wrapped around his shoulders and feathers in his hair, but he spoke with unmistakable power. He said, “I am the Creator, and you are part of my creation. It is true that you will witness many changes in your life, but do not be afraid. Did I not promise to be with you always and to send you comfort? Be courageous! You are stronger than you know.”

All Souls Day

When I woke up this morning, I was happy to see the sun shining in a clear blue sky, a surprising change from the gray, overcast days we recently experienced. I awoke with an awareness of All Souls Day and a thinning of the veil between worlds. The older I get, the more I see the turning of seasons in life - the birth of children followed by the passing of elders. Life is a circle, and if we see with the eyes of our hearts, heaven and earth come together and everything stands as one. 

When I saw the beautiful weather, I was kicking myself for not having my camera nearby. Fortunately, my friend Shelly Boyd got the picture I missed. This photo credit goes to Shelly. 

Aboriginal Visit

Spokane Falls Community College is hosting a student group from Sydney, Australia. The students represent a variety of aboriginal peoples from around the country. 

On Monday, I was invited to meet with the students to discuss Native American history in the Spokane area. As the discussion progressed, we discovered many similarities regarding our common history of oppression. For example, more than 100,000 Indian children in the United States were removed from their homes and sent to live in residential schools. In Australia, several generations of aboriginal children were removed from their families and sent to orphanages. These children were known as the "stolen generation." The common purpose of both governments was to force indigenous peoples to assimilate into the dominant cultures. 

More importantly, we discovered our common spiritualities. Our respective cultures hold a deep respect for culture, language, nature, spirituality, and ancestral wisdom. I feel very much at home with these beautiful people. 

Dixie spoke to the students at SCC regarding the "stolen generation." Many of these individuals were descendants of the stolen generation. Many aboriginal people have lost contact with their families of origin as a direct result of government assimilation policies. A major theme of their visit surrounds their attempt to reconnect to their lost heritage. 

Albert has been a driver and cultural guide for the Australian students. At their presentation today at SCC, he sang a local song using an Australian musical instrument.  

We also had the opportunity to visit Spokane Falls. In this photograph, Christine is standing near the main falls. 

Grace. 

It was a beautiful day at Riverfront Park when we visited the falls. 

The rapids above Spokane Falls. 

Dixie.

Chico. 

Barbara. 

Maryanne.

Peta.

Colin looked on as Albert sang by the falls. 

sumix

This afternoon, I drove home through Tum Tum and Suncrest. As I passed the pictographs at the base of the hill, I felt the urge to stop. I've probably seen these rock paintings a hundred times, but I always feel drawn to return. 

Years ago, the parks department posted a sign with the name sumix near the entrance of the site. Presumably, the name had some reference to the spiritual nature of the rock paintings. However, it was strange that they used a Colville-Okanagan word rather than a Spokane word, considering that the paintings reside well within Spokane territory. In the Colville-Okanagan language, sumix means something like "spirit power." We have a similar word in the Spokane language: sumeš. It makes me wonder who originally created the name. Did a park ranger from 50 years ago simply pick a name that seemed "Indian"? Did someone consult a Colville-Okanagan speaker to name a Spokane historical site? In short, how did a cultural site within the Spokane territory get a Colville-Okanagan name? Does anyone know the story? 

In any case, the sign has since been removed. 

Johnny

What an awesome day! I got to spend several hours with Johnny Arlee this afternoon talking about language, spirituality, and education. Maybe sometime I'll get to share more of our conversation, but for now, I just want to express my gratitude for our meeting today. lemlmtš čoleʔ.

Prayer Flags

Today was a bright Sunday morning when I returned to the Buddhist temple to visit friends. As I passed the threshold, Tibetan prayer flags fluttered in the breeze. 

Some years ago, I was impressed by the beauty of Tibetan prayer flags, so I decided to put some up in front of my house. However, at the last moment, I was equally impressed by my lack of understanding. For one thing, I had no idea regarding the underlying spiritual practice associated with prayer flags. I worried that my admiration would turn into cultural appropriation. Furthermore, I didn't know the meaning of the text. Since prayer seemed like a serious thing, I didn't want to send prayers without understanding the meaning. In the end, I decided to not display prayer flags in my home. 

When I see prayer flags, I offer my respect, 

but someday I would like to understand them better. 

After I left the temple, I walked to Corbin Park to see the autumn leaves. I was impressed by the vibrant colors and the sparkling drops of dew on the back of each leaf. Having just reflected on the meaning of the prayer flags, it suddenly occurred to me that the leaves are also a form of prayer. Each leaf enables life flourish and grow. 

Nature is a kind of spirituality that does not require temples,

 rituals, ceremonies, or sacred texts. In fact, nature is the sacred text.  

Temple Dedication

My dear friend Francesca has dedicated a portion of her home as a Tibetan Buddhist temple. She lives in an older house with an addition that has been converted into a sanctuary. The house includes a shrine to the Buddha and a large portrait of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. 

She asked me to offer a prayer as part of the dedication ceremony, 

Geshe-la, a Buddhist monk from Tibet, conducted the main portion of the ceremony, reading first in Tibetan and then in English.  

The service was deeply ecumenical. Father Connolly, an old family friend, participated in the ceremony.

Geshe-la.

I was also happy to see Eva. She was teasing me after the ceremony that she only gets to see my pictures when they appear on the internet. Apparently, he daughter retrieves the pictures and shares them with her. As a result, I felt obligated to post this picture to add to her collection. 

Power and Love

We cannot avoid

Using power,

Cannot escape the compulsion

To afflict the world,

So let us, cautious in diction

And mighty in contradiction,

Love powerfully.

Martin Buber

"Power and Love" (1926)

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Change reflects the contradiction of living. As if to prove the point, the beautiful face of autumn will quickly fade into a deathlike slumber. The trees now ablaze with vibrant colors will soon retreat, and the branches will rattle like bones in the freezing wind. Every season reveals a different face to the world. One moment we feel the warm embrace of a summer afternoon, but on the opposite side of the sun, the air is a knife cutting at our skin.   

It is only natural to feel preference for one season over another, but every face of nature holds some beauty. Within the contradiction of existence, life yields to death, and death produces life. Likewise, faith may yield to doubt, while uncertainty allows genuine faith. 

As Buber suggested, if we must endure the contradiction of living - where joy and sorrow walk hand in hand - then let us love powerfully. Let us love the trees, and all of nature, simply for the gift of being. And let us love one another, even amid our differences and afflictions.

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Smith, M. K. (2009). Martin Buber on education. Retrieved from The Encyclopedia of Informal Education: http://infed.org/mobi/martin-buber-on-education/

Encounter

Martin Buber was a Jewish philosopher who emphasized the notion of encounter, a moment when two beings meet one another in their authentic existence. Authentic encounters allow us to experience the divine in others, thereby transforming the nature of the relationship. 

As one article stated, "Encounter is an event or situation in which relation occurs. We can only grow and develop ... once we have learned to live in relation to others, to recognize the possibilities of the space between us" (Smith, 2009). Buber also wrote, "All real life is encounter" (As cited in Smith, 2009). 

If authentic living requires us to encounter the other, then indigenous spirituality provides opportunities for encounter with our fellow human beings, along with all the beings of nature. 

Over the years, nature has often awakened me from the dull, object-based awareness of my day to day existence, and opened my connection to the mystery of being. That sense of connection often brings me to a state of mindfulness, gratitude, and beauty. Sometimes a fallen leaf or a ripple on the surface of the water is enough to facilitate an encounter with the divine. 

This afternoon, my moment of encounter happened as I drove from one job at Spokane Community College to my other job at Whitworth University. My mind was heavy with thoughts of student concerns and ungraded papers, but a burst of sunlight brought me back to my heart-awareness. Suddenly I experienced myself in relationship to the earth and sky.

Sources:

Smith, M. K. (2009). Martin Buber on education. Retrieved from The Encyclopedia of Informal Education: http://infed.org/mobi/martin-buber-on-education/

Arrow Lakes News

Several weeks ago, I re-posted an article from the Valley Voice, a small newspaper in British Columbia, where the author reported a multi-faith prayer vigil for the health of the Columbia River. The same event was also reported by the Arrow Lakes News in Nakusp. 

The Arrow Lakes News article, written by Ryan Willman, stated in part: 

On the banks of the Arrow Lakes reservoir a solicitous group gathered and listened to Barry Moses, a member of the Spokane Tribe, describe a dream that he had as a young man. In the dream, the world was barren and dry, devoid of life; then suddenly the earth shook and a gush of water was released from the rocks forming a new river. Moses stood on the banks and watched the river flow until he noticed fish leaping through the waves. He jumped in and followed the fish in the upriver journey until they all reached a beautiful, fertile land. Paradise. 

“This is what I pray for today,” Moses sums up, “I pray for the return of the salmon and the restoration of the river.” 

Moses shared his vision, a prayer and a song with a group of gathered community members who attended a vigil to raise awareness about the plight of the Columbia River. This vigil was part of a series of multi-faith events that began August 6 in Washington and continued every day up the river ending with the last vigil scheduled at the source of the Columbia, Canal Flats. 

The article continued:

Shelly Boyd, member of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation, spoke of her connection to the Arrow Lakes area and expressed the need for unity and cooperation. “This side of the line, that side of the line. The water doesn’t even know there is a line,” she expressed. Boyd contributed to the vigil with a prayer and sang a traveling song in her native tongue.

Carthage

On our first Sunday in Nauvoo, our family made the short drive to Carthage, Illinois. For my non-Mormon audience, this is where the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were assassinated in 1844. Today the jail is preserved as a visitor's center for the LDS Church. 

Visitors begin the tour with a short film that highlights the life of Joseph Smith. Then they tour the restored jail, including the room where the Smiths were killed. 

The church works hard to preserve a reverent, sacred environment for telling the Joseph Smith story; however, the day we visited, multiple busloads of tourists also arrived. Hundreds of people stood in the hot sun and waited for their turn to tour the jail. Families jockeyed into position to pose for photographs below the infamous window where Joseph fell to his death. Once inside the jail, still others elbowed their way to the front. Finally, in the Martyrdom Room, a mother yelled at her kids to get out of the way so she could photograph the infamous window. For me, the crowds distracted somewhat from the spirit of that place. 

Once inside the jail, we visited the dungeon cell - still preserved with bars and stone walls. Joseph and Hyrum stayed only briefly inside the cell. It was so hot that day, that the jailer allowed them to stay in an upstairs bedroom while they waited for trial. 

The tour culminates in a visit to the Martyrdom Room. While Joseph and his party waited, a mob of several hundred men stormed the jail, ascended the steps to the second story, and opened fire on the bedroom door. One bullet penetrated the door and struck Hyrum Smith in the face. 

Joseph Smith ran to the window, perhaps intending to jump, but the mob shot him in the back from inside the bedroom. Some of the mob also shot him from the ground below. Smith fell head-first from the second story window and died. 

To the tourists and visitors, this window assumed an almost mythical status. Most everyone spoke in hushed tones, except for the mother yelling at her kids to get away from the window. But in fairness to that mom, the tour guides did rush us out of the room to make space for the next tour group. This may have been her last chance to photograph a cherished family memory. Besides, after she got her children to move, she also gave me a clear view of the window. 

Of course, I was also one of those obnoxious tourists who forced my son to pose below the window. I have to be fair with everyone. 

Sometimes I hesitate to write about spiritual experiences, especially if they might appear different than the norm, but I want to say something about my own spiritual reaction to Carthage. 

As mentioned, the crowds distracted somewhat from the reverent atmosphere. In addition, some of the tour guides seemed to overwork the emotion of Joseph's death. But I wanted to experience the spirit of Carthage Jail on my own terms - independent of the correlated church curriculum or popular expectations. 

In all the different parts of the tour, I stopped, closed my eyes, and checked my feelings. To be honest, most of the tour seemed blank. From time to time, I felt the weight of history and the grief of the early saints, but I was looking for something I couldn't name.  

Finally, I stood on  the exact location where Joseph Smith fell to his death. Whatever opinions people may have regarding Joseph or the religion he established, no one can argue that he started a movement that now touches the whole world. Most everyone has been affected - in big and small ways - by what happened in Carthage and Nauvoo. So I stood on that spot and closed my eyes. It's difficult to describe, but I felt an electrical current emanating from a place just beneath the cobblestones. It flowed upwards, toward the sky. This may sound a strange, but it felt like I was standing in a stream of energy. I have no idea what it means, but all the hairs on my neck and arms stood on end.