Lately, I've been reading a book that does more than any other to drive home the history of the European, Native American conflict. And it doesn't make me feel very comfortable for a zillion reasons, not necessarily the ones you might think.
The book is called "The Wolf at Twilight." It is written by Kent Nerburn, a sculptor and journalist who was a good friend of an old Lakota named Dan. I don't know if Dan had any particular shamanic or medicinal role in the tribe, but the old man was a deep font of Native wisdom. The book is the story of the author's interaction with him over the period of a few weeks during the author's return visit to the reservation.
One powerful point the story drives home is that of the cultural differences between the Lakota and the European cultures. There is a deep, fundamental difference in world views - a vast gulf between the Red and the White Roads. For someone like me who has been raised on the White Road but finds certain elements of the Red Road attractive, it has a sobering message. It says that ultimately, 'you are not us.' It says that 'you can't possibly know what we went through. You look at us through the eyes of a European culture. You say you want to learn our ways - but only a little bit of them. You seek us, but only a little bit of us. You are sympathetic, but only to a point.' And you know what, they are right. Ultimately, we are different people with different histories, traveling different roads.
A number of years ago, Gwyn and I visited Fort Snelling to see the Minnesota Historical Society's re-enactments over the Fourth of July holiday. As we were entering the park, we encountered a group of Native American protesters. They were militantly demanding that Fort Snelling be torn down and that the land be returned to the Lakota. While I am somewhat sympathetic to the Lakota point of view, I was completely put off by the militancy and vitriol with which one particular woman confronted me. I felt my own hackles rise with her shouting at me. I began to feel more aligned with the European settlers in the 1860s, than with the Lakota who were there to convince me of their case. Yet now, reading this conversation in "Wolf at Twilight," I began to understand the background and energy behind that rage.
I hear generations-old arguments about the wrongs committed, and how that injustice is now built in to the fabric of American history. In response, I have always argued, "Yes but I wasn't the one who did it to you." In The Wolf at Twilight, Dan scolds the author with the rebuke - "No, not personally. But now you directly benefit from it. You live far downstream but you still drink the water."
So what is one to do? I am always interested in doing the right thing. I have always been in favor of both justice and mercy. Yet could I ever really understand the world through the eyes of "Dan" or of the Lakota woman confronting me at Fort Snelling? Probably not. That injustice is built into the very fabric of the way I live. Yet when I read the words, I see a little more of the world through the eyes of Dan and I realize I could never hope to see the righting of that wrong.
At the same time, I am very sympathetic to the author as Dan rebukes him for what his grandfathers did. I felt the author's discomfort as I realize that live too live in the white world, and maybe that makes me exactly what some Indigenous peoples refer to as a 'Plastic Shaman.' I am interested in Native ways. But as I look at how to learn more about them, to more deeply study shamanism and earth-centered healing, once again my 'plastic' world returns. I look at schedules and time commitments. And once again I say, "...well, yeah I'd like to study this, but I can't fit it into my calendar right now. Maybe later..."
If I were truly on a Native road wouldn't I be much more flexible? Wouldn't I be willing to roll withe the punches, flow with the eddies in the river - or whatever other metaphor you wish...? Am I really a creature of plastic, or could it be instead that my path is simply different?
A few years ago while on vacation, Gwyn and I by chance met a Hindu medical doctor who lived in an area near where we were staying. In keeping with Brahmin hospitality, he invited us to join his family for the evening. During conversation, he suggested how his path would allow him to feel at home in any house of worship. The thought stuck me in a very heart-warming way. The lesson I took from the evening was the importance of honor and respect for the traditions of whatever road I am on, to be a thankful guest and a gracious host. There are many roads, and each leads to the Creator. Given the right understanding, discernment and respect, perhaps any road can be the right one - or perhaps all of them at once. For me, it is life on a spiritual bridge.
During a meditation circle I attended a few weeks ago, I was told that I do indeed have a bridging role. In many aspects of life, I often find myself in the role of a bridge between worlds - a mediator and/or peacemaker. I am sometimes a facilitator of contact between elements of consciousness that are very, very far apart. Indeed the word the leader of the circle used translates to 'Spirit Bridge' or 'Cosmic Bridge.'
Meanwhile, I look at how uncomfortable I felt reading the passage in Wolf at Twilight, and I realize that while I can learn a lot from that road, I am NOT indigenous American. My ancestors came from elsewhere and so I am indigenous somewhere. For me, that somewhere is northern Europe. And so part of my research over the last few months has been to learn a little more about my own ancestral (and therefore indigenous) culture. This has led me to stories from the Northern Tradition, the ancestral Nordic ways, Teutonic shamanism, etc., the White Road. There has been so much of the pre-Latin, pre-Roman culture lost (and much of that which was regained was badly corrupted by the evils of the 1930s and 40s). While there is very limited information out there, there is some, and that's where the White Road travels.
There are so many lessons to be learned on the Red Road, the White Road, the various Eastern traditions (the Vedic path), etc. At the same time there are so many other paths: Rationalism, Gnosticism, my own home tradition of the Way of the Cross, and so many more. And one of the biggest things I learn from traveling so many paths at once is how similar they are. Even when they seem so very different they all come from God - and in the end, in some way they all lead back to God.
If I am sometimes a guest on another's road, so be it. Let me simply remember to be a thankful, understanding and respectful guest. If I find my own road, let me bring to it understanding and respect for the other paths. If I am to be a bridge between roads, so be it. Let me better understand the lessons at both ends of the bridge. And as I strive to learn these lessons, perhaps a 'Plastic Shaman' like myself can be at home and of service helping others find their own road to God.
