Mending the severed Hoop of Life

Article Last Updated: 2/18/2006 02:24 AM
Salt Lake Tribune

Arvol Looking Horse has known since he was 12 years old that he was to be a spiritual leader of the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota Sioux.

But it wasn't until he rode by horseback from Standing Rock, N.D., to the Wounded Knee massacre site in South Dakota in December 1990 that his role became clearer.

It was the 100th anniversary of the massacre of 300 Lakota women, children and old men. Looking Horse and other riders, frostbitten and with their horses struggling through deep snow, heard the singing of grandfathers in the spirit world.

The ride, repeated for three more years to fulfill the sacred number of four, changed Looking Horse.

He realized that, as the 19th-generation keeper of the sacred White Buffalo Pipe of the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota Sioux, he was meant to help mend the sacred Hoop of Life, which had been severed at Wounded Knee.

In 1996, he founded World Peace and Prayer Day, which he and others from the Wolakota Foundation in Eagle Butte, S.D., have celebrated in Costa Rica, Ireland, South Africa, Australia, Japan and South Dakota's Black Hills.

Looking Horse, who has spoken in the United Nations and twice visited Iraq to pray for peace, says it is incumbent on all people to pray for peace and to begin treating the Earth with respect.

His latest effort is to encourage the preservation of sacred sites around the world.

South Dakota Gov. Mike Rounds has signed a proclamation calling for the United Nations to declare June 21 "Honoring Sacred Sites Day," says Paula Horne Mullen, Looking Horse's wife.

While in Utah this month, the couple delivered the proclamation with hopes Gov. Jon Huntsman Jr. will sign it as well.

Forrest Cuch, director of the Utah Division of Indian Affairs, says the governor has not yet been formally given the proclamation.

- Kristen Moulton

Article Last Updated: 2/17/2006 11:18 PM

Survival of the sacred

Controversy simmers over whether non-Indians can understand and respect native spirituality

By Kristen Moulton
The Salt Lake Tribune
Salt Lake Tribune

When news spread that Arvol Looking Horse would be visiting Utah, many who practice American Indian spirituality were thrilled.

Some also felt a chill.

Looking Horse, after all, has come to represent the growing sentiment among many American Indians that non-Indians do not belong in the center of sacred ceremonial practice.

A Lakota spiritual leader, Looking Horse - with the support of dozens of Lakota, Dakota, Nakota, Cheyenne and Arapaho leaders - issued a proclamation in 2003 calling for an end to exploitation of ceremonies.

Non-Indians, he says, are welcome to join Indians in prayer and on the periphery, but they should not lead the most sacred ceremonies, such as the Sundance and Vision Quest.

Not only do Indians with little appreciation of tradition pervert and sell ceremonies and their tools, he argues, but also non-Indians dabble in something they do not fully understand.

Drawn by native spirituality's understanding of nature, plants and animals - and often packing their own New Age notions - scores of non-Indians have been attracted to native spirituality.

"A lot of people are doing things, and they've only got a shadow," says Lacee Harris, a social worker from Salt Lake City. Harris is a Northern Ute-Northern Paiute.

When Looking Horse was invited to Utah from South Dakota for various appearances along the Wasatch Front last week, audiences expected to hear him expound on the issue.

He didn't.

But that doesn't mean Looking Horse, averse to conflict, has backed away from his insistence that Indians reclaim their faith. Indeed, he believes the future of the human race hinges, in part, on the ceremonial practices.

"There is a lot about our [way of] life that is essential to the survival of the two-leggeds," he said in an interview.

Those who take part in ceremonies for their own gratification do not realize there are ramifications for others, he says.

"They begin a slow killing of the medicine," he says.

"They don't realize they destroy the creator by doing this," adds his wife, Paula Horne Mullen.

Time to 'pick up the pipe': Ogden resident Robin Naneix is one of those struggling to understand where that leaves her.

Reared in Georgia, Naneix was taught Indian ways - such as talking to plants and looking for signs in nature - by her grandmother, whose own mother was Cherokee but who never called her ways "Indian."

For a number of reasons, the family did not end up on the tribal roles. Naneix is fair-skinned, with dark blond hair.

After trying on Christianity and looking into Buddhism, Naneix turned to Indian ways eight years ago. She studied and gradually learned the complexities of native spirituality, careful to respect traditions.

Like many who began practicing Indian spirituality as adults, Naneix adopted Lakota ways because the Lakota Sioux generously have shared their traditions with strangers for the past century.

Through the years, Naneix believes she has been confirmed in her path.

She regularly finds eagle feathers as she spends time outdoors, a gift of the creator, she says. Dreams and visions told her three years ago that it was time to "pick up the pipe," a significant step in a spiritual journey.

In December, she decided that next summer, she will do the Sundance - four days of nearly nonstop dancing with no food or water.

"In that sacred circle, you are one on one with creator," Naneix says. Looking Horse, she says, is a "very wise and spiritual man."

But, "at the end of the day, he is a man. . . [who is] telling us we can't be with the creator."

In her mind, taking part in sacred ceremonies should depend on one's heart and preparation, not heritage.

"It comes down to: Are you being mindful and acting out of your heart?"

Rights & rites: Forrest Cuch, executive director of the Utah Division of Indian Affairs, notes another dimension to the controversy: legality.

"It is the only ethnic minority that has a political relationship with the U.S. Congress that came about as a result of war," he says. "The treaties were made with the American Indian people, not with other people."

Certain rights belong only to members of federally recognized Indian tribes, such as the right to possess eagle feathers, which represent knowledge and are vital in many native ceremonies. Another is the right to use peyote, a hallucinogen derived from cactus.

Federal law requires one be a member of the Native American Church of North America as well as a member of a federally recognized Indian tribe to use peyote.

Utah law, however, had a loophole allowing peyote use by non-Indians. The Legislature this session passed HB60 to make state law conform to federal law and it's awaiting the signature of Gov. Jon Huntsman Jr.

Cuch and leaders of Utah's Indian tribes praise the measure as a step in remedying exploitation of native practices.

"A controlled substance has to be regulated," Cuch says, "otherwise it will be abused."

Like Looking Horse, Cuch laments the disrespect shown to native spirituality as it becomes popular among non-Indians.

"Far too many of them think that because they participate in a few ceremonies, they can become shamans and medicine people."

But Cuch's views on non-Indian participation in sacred ceremonies shows there is a wide divergence among Indian leaders.

"They [non-Indians] need to devote 15 or 20 years working as an apprentice. When they achieve that, Indian people will recognize and support them."

Harris agrees it's not impossible for a non-Indian to develop enough spiritually to be in the center of ceremonies.

"It is possible if they want to put in the time."

Eleanor Iron Lightning, a Lakota who lives in Salt Lake City and invited Looking Horse, says "only a drop" of Indian blood is necessary for one to be on a path toward full participation in Indian ceremonies.

Looking Horse acknowledges he does not have the authority to enforce his view. That call is up to each community's spiritual leader in each situation.

But, he and his wife say, the creator, through prophecies and revelation, has given particular ceremonies to particular native people for a reason.

"I wouldn't want to start making ceremonial sand painting because I had a dream I was a Hopi," Horne Mullen says. "As a Lakota, I have to respect that."

She recognizes that many who have joined native circles are "really good people."

"We're trying to help them understand the delicate nature of the situation. We say 'share prayer, but keep in place the boundaries of respect for who we are.' "