Wind From An Eagle’s Wings
by Joan Mitchell, CSJ
At 15, Kristan Staub, along with three generations of his family, took part in the Ontario Native Kateri Conference. This conference gathered Canadian Cree, Ojibwe, and Mohawk Catholics to speak their dreams and visions of a Church that integrates Native spiritual traditions in its rites and prayers.
The conference takes its name from Kateri Tekakwitha, a young Mohawk woman who is the first person born in North America whom the Catholic Church has officially proclaimed cananized and recognized for her holy life. She is Native and Catholic, a patroness for the future.
Native elders grew up in a church that was Roman Catholic, not Native Catholic. However, the Second Vatican Council urged bishops and priests to appreciate and foster the spiritual symbols and gifts of all races and peoples and use them in worship.
One of the Native spiritual traditions, both a place and a spiritual process of discernment and healing, is the sweat lodge. A sweat lodge is like a prayer meeting in a sauna. Traditionally it is made by ritually building a low lodge framework, covering it with blankets and tarps, and placing rocks around the bottom to enclose the space tightly.
A lodge keeper builds a fire outside and heats rocks. To create the sweat, the lodge keeper brings the hot rocks inside and pours water over them. In Native tradition the sweat is prayer as well as cleansing heat. The lodge is like the womb of Mother Earth. The experience is a spiritual rebirth like baptism.
At this conference Kristan Staub experienced his first sweat lodge. He tells about the experience.
Each person who runs a sweat lodge has different ways. Last night they brought in seven stones for the seven directions (north, east, south, west, up, down, in) and we blessed the stones and welcomed them, saying, “Hello Grandfather, welcome Grandfather.” They put water on the stones and prayed. They brought in two more stones and prayed again.
We had a break, drank some water, and just rested for a while. The drum was constantly beating, like a heartbeat; I felt it inside. It was dark. The only light we had was a glow from the rocks.
We entered for a second sweat, prayed again, and they brought in four more stones. There are 23 rocks that are essential to the sweat. A man who had been in many sweats told me that if an animal comes in, a bear or an eagle or something, not to be scared of it. “You won’t see it come in and you won’t see it leave, but it will be there,” he said. “Just don’t be frightened or panic.”
After the break from the second session, we went into a third. The water on the rocks created a great steam. I put my towel over my face so that I could breathe, and I heard what seemed like a flapping noise. An eagle was above us, flying around. I could see how big he was, yet he fit in the lodge. And every time he flew by, I could feel the wind from its wings. I felt goosebumps go across my body, but they were from the inside, not the outside. The drum was beating all the time. I could feel it in my body.
After we came outside, I could still feel the pulsing. I felt greatly relieved like my prayers had been answered. I just lay down outside. I could feel beating in the ground. It just kept beating. I was thanking Grandfather…thanking the Great Spirit. It was a great experience.
Soaring
by Erica Dombro
When I run, I pray. In the process of exerting myself, I put myself out there for God to take hold of. God loves life and when I use my body or my talents to their full potential, I can feel that God loves me. Each minute of a race is the product of a massive buildup. In a race, I put everything on the line and use it all.
At the beginning. On the blocks, my muscles strain for the sharp crack of the gun. I chase the blurred forms of my competition, existing in my periphery. Eyes focus on the path. Pushing it all out on that final stretch. One foot in front of the other, dragging my legs through the air. Using what I was given to achieve that final destination. That line that signals the end.
Every race is a gift. Training for it. Running it. The result of it. After, there is complete and utter emptiness. Exhaustion. I quake in the void, concentrating on breathing. In and out. In, out. Hands on knees. Limbs leaden and sinking, but quickly filling with air to bounce. Vulnerable, reaching out to embrace those who supported me. High fives. Rain, running down my face. Chills. Something inside eases open and the nirvana comes. Adrenalin, pumping, shoving in my head. Quivering in the soar.
This extreme happiness and contentment can really only come from one place. In joy and relief, I soak up my surroundings and enjoy them. Even though I am working my flesh and blood, in that moment I realize that I am part of something bigger and more important than my life. It is odd how living does this. In these moments, I learn that I am loved and, in turn, learn to love. Using what I was given and being genuinely happy is just as true as saying an Our Father.
Bouncing. Smiles.
