On this very day many years ago, not so very far away as the crow flies, but on the lands of another people, I witnessed the power of a holy man’s prayer: calling clouds; invoking the rains.
It was during an intertribal powwow hosted by a different nation on the west side of the state, a place typically hotter at this time than here at Red Willow. The sun was relentless, the heat well over the century mark. And just before the afternoon’s Grand Entry, an elder from a neighboring people was invited to open and bless the ceremonies with a prayer.
His age was sufficiently advanced to slow his step, but not to render it any less sure. As he walked across the open-air arena, the sun beat down upon us all. As he reached up to adjust the microphone, the bank of clouds that had been forming slowly along the western horizon grew suddenly, reaching an angle sufficient to veil the sun.
He began to speak, slowly, deliberately, with respect for the Spirit he entreated on our behalf and honoring all of the spirits surrounding us — first in his language, then in English, so that all present would understand. His voice was deep and resonant, utterly devoid of the artificial cadence imposed by Hollywood, well-practiced at speaking on behalf of the People, and at approaching greater powers than our own with humility and strength of heart.
And as he spoke, the clouds grew. They moved with astonishing rapidity, turning the skies overhead pewter, then lead, then iron. The elder spoke, thanking Spirit for all that we are given; before concluding, he gave thanks for the rainy season and the rains. And the moment the word for “rain” passed his lips, the thunder rolled, the lightning flashed, and the first drop fell.
Very soon, people were running for the exits, because the rain came down in a torrent. The rest of us just sat there, grateful for the chance to cool our overheated selves, and for what it would mean for the land.
And no one will ever tell me that the elder didn’t call it down for us.
It only works, of course, for holy men and women, those who walk with the spirits in the way our various peoples’ traditions prescribe. It’s not possible to go outside and demand that the clouds come; spirit forbid non-Native people should suggest, much less enact, their Hollywoodized idea of a “rain dance.” But there are those capable of calling clouds, and their work and lives are to be honored.
Today’s featured work reminds me of that elder on that long-ago day. This one is dressed differently — more traditionally, in the older sense. We now have traditional forms of dress for walking in this world, as well as older forms not meant for outsiders. That elder wore the former, and there was no mistaking his identity or essential self; today’s work embodies the latter, equally powerful but meant for our side of the line that separates our world from that of the dominant culture. From its description in the Other Artists: Sculpture gallery here on the site:
This representation of a Pueblo elder in traditional dress, complete with blanket, jewelry, and eagle feather, is the work of master carver Ned Archuleta (Taos Pueblo). This one really shows Ned’s ability to coax spirit from stone by following its immanent form, and features great attention to detail: the lines of the blanket, the strands of beads, the markings on the eagle feather in the hair. Formed out of a pink alabaster, it sits atop a pine wood base. Stands 12.25″ high including base (sculpture, 11.25″; base 1″). The sculpture is 6.25″ wide by 1.75″ deep; the base, 6.5″ wide by 3″ deep (all dimensions approximate).
Pink alabaster on pine base
$375 + shipping, handling, and insurance
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This piece has always reminded me of the links between earth and sky here: stone marbled and whorled in the warm colors of the soil, adrift with soft shapes like the clouds of the summer sky. Its traditional representation, of elder, dress, adornment, and bearing all combine to create a work that itself seems to transcend worlds: that of the elder it represents, and of those who inhabit worlds beyond our reach; the ones who call the clouds, and the ones who deliver them.
The forecast insists on rain for the next few days. Perhaps the elders are already at work.
~ Aji
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