review
by Melanie Fire Salamander
As a white neo-pagan woman living in Washington state, wanting to honor this earth in the way it understands best, I'm caught in a dilemma. Native Americans lived in this land long before my ancestors. I'd like to honor their stewardship and talk to the land in their language, if I can. But I don't want to appropriate Native American ritual that isn't mine. And I want to be true to my spiritual calling -- in my life, I've been most drawn to European neo-pagan spiritualities.
Given the paths I already follow, I may never devote the years of learning to Native American spirituality that are required to follow that practice. Nevertheless, because I want to honor this land, I've always sought a doorway into Native American ritual.
That doorway opened this May when I accompanied a friend of mine on her semi-yearly pilgrimage to dance in the Earth Dance. This year's Earth Dance was held May 21 through 24, 2005, at a site outside of Tecate, in Baja California, Mexico. I was drawn to the dance not only for its Native American aspects but also because it is dedicated to the earth. As the Earth Dance Web site (www.earthdance8.org) says, "Earth Dance is a dance for the unity of all creation...The purpose is to dance with the earth, the elements, Sun and Moon and the ancestors, to bring joy to the people and the earth." For me, it worked for that purpose. It brought me joy. It was one of the most powerful rituals I've ever been part of.
It's interesting I chose to enter this particular doorway to Native American ritual, because Adam Yellowbird DeArmon, the founder of the Earth Dance, is a white man. His heritage is Jewish, though I understand that he trained with Lakota Sioux teachers. The Earth Dance itself has features reminiscent of the Sioux Sun Dance, but dancers don't pin themselves to the central tree, and unlike in many versions of the Sun Dance, people of every religion and nationality may dance.
My understanding is that when Yellowbird had his vision of the Earth Dance, he prayed with it a long time and took it to his teachers for confirmation before doing any work to manifest it. Nevertheless, Yellowbird shows up on at least one "plastic shamans" Web site as a white man trying to present himself as Native and make a profit.
But Yellowbird takes no profit from the Earth Dance that I can see -- entrance to the dance is by donation, and much of the material and labor that goes into it is his. He almost certainly spends more money on the Earth Dance than he makes back. And Yellowbird doesn't pretend he's an Indian. I honor people who want to debunk the charlatans in this branch of spirituality, but what can you do if you're in a situation such as Yellowbird's? Suppose you're white by heritage and Native by training and receive a vision telling you to pass on your teaching?
I think the Earth Dance is the best balance possible, bringing Native spirituality to non-Native and Native people alike in a way that respects its origins but doesn't pretend you're sitting at a Lakota elder's knee. I can't speak to Yellowbird's authenticity as a Native American spiritual leader. But as someone who has studied ritual for more than 20 years, I can speak to his effectiveness as a ritualist. He's good. The Earth Dance works.
This year was an important one for the Mexican Earth Dance, because Yellowbird handed it off to "las abuelas" -- the grandmothers. Chief among the abuelas present at the dance was Laura, who led many of our dances. Yellowbird will continue to lead Earth Dances in Arizona, while Laura and the other abuelas will carry on the tradition in Mexico. The dance outside Tecate was truly Mexican -- more than half of our 22 dancers were Mexican, and I was glad I brushed up my Spanish for conversation and sweat lodge songs.
Spanish was a help but not a requirement. Among the requirements was that dancers dance each round for which we were present -- the whole dance is preferred. We also fasted through the four days of the dance. To buoy us up, we drank medicinal teas, Gatorade and as much water as we could swallow. We stayed within the designated dance area throughout the dance. Though sweat lodges weren't required, most dancers undertook a sweat at least once a day during the dance, and twice on the third and biggest day.
I found it interesting to observe different sweat leaders' styles -- Yellowbird began and ended the dance with intense and moving sweats, while Laura's sweat was more gentle yet no less deep. Chumash ritualist Red Thunder gave us a predawn sweat about lightness, telling about a Chumash ancestor whom the cowboys hated because he was so light-footed he could run on the steers' backs and draw them by their noses. Many dances have more sweat ceremonies, but this year the Sun led plenty of sweats itself -- the first day of the dance hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit, and highs the last three days were in the 108-110 degree range, though the nights fell to the 40s and below. I found the frigid nights one of the dance's hardships.
Sweat ceremonies supported the ritual, but the heart of the Earth Dance was the four days and three nights of dance rounds, held at the full Moon and the days on either side. We ranged from two to five dance rounds a day, based on a simple step drawn into different patterns in the circle. Mainly Laura led, though occasionally we did free dances. Some people made their dances elaborate, but I kept mine uncomplicated and dedicated each round to a separate intention. Yellowbird or Laura often declared an intention for us.
We performed each dance in a circle picked out with rocks, with large stones set at the four directions and in the center. Each of the directions and center had its own tree, placed ceremonially above a sacred buffalo heart. The north section of the circle housed the big drum and its drummers under an awning. The center of the circle held a small fire, which burned continually throughout the dance.
Aligned with the dance circle by sacred geometry was another fire, also burning throughout the dance, which heated the sweat lodge rocks. Two sweat lodges and an arbor where dancers went for councils, meditation and sacred work completed the sacred space. Nearby stood tipis for men and women dancers, and not far off was the medicine tent, where healers dispensed medicinal teas, foot baths, massage, Reiki and first aid. Fire-tenders kept the ritual fires burning and helped police boundaries and fix problems.
Desert scrub surrounded the dance floor. Live oak trees with gnarled grey trunks and tiny leaves like olive-green holly grew at the site, and flowering sage filled the nearby hills. No cloud touched the deep azure sky, but in the evenings under the trees mist rose from the earth. Every night the stars sparked out clear, obscured by the Moon as it rose.
Of all the dances, those for the full Moon moved me most strongly. The Moon called me to some of my first pagan experiences, and at the Earth Dance I realized that I needed to rededicate myself to her. Under her clear light, dancers in step to either side, I felt her uncanny touch. That calling and others made the Earth Dance resonate for me, strong as a bell tolling.
After the last Moon dance, we held a council at which dancers and others shared visions that had come to them. I knew then I was among adepts -- people doing the real work. We toned, and Yellowbird gave us an image to visualize together -- I felt the arbor where we sat lift itself off the earthly plane, or perhaps become more deeply present on the earth, like an image growing darker in a photographic bath.
Afterward, a hush fell. Outside on the dusty road, trucks passed, rattling like freight cars, lonely, eerie, far away. I felt our words and actions ring deeper in the silence, shifting energies. I felt the dance do its work, helping heal the earth and some of its spirits.
Besides night dances, we danced at each dawn to greet the rising Sun, the creator, the earth and their children, and at each Sunset to say farewell to the Sun. The Sun balanced on the horizon like a drop of liquid copal, and voices rose in Lakota and other sacred songs to hail it. I saw each morning how the world is recreated, and I celebrated that. I saw each evening how the Sun leaves us like a family member, and I said good-bye.
At midday and in the afternoon, watchers from the community usually surrounded the dance circle at a respectful distance. Yellowbird often called these visitors, especially schoolchildren, into the circle to dance. At one point, we had more than a hundred children in the circle dancing with us. At first, some kids, hot and frustrated, danced unwillingly -- I noticed one young woman picking through messages on her cell phone -- but with time, most connected with the energy of the dance.
During the day's dances, often one dancer performed as Heyoka, a sacred clown in a white-spotted black outfit who did things backward and who was driven off by another dancer. When we had children in the circle, Yellowbird egged the young boys to attack Heyoka -- a sentiment I got behind when Heyoka danced through the circle eating a sandwich.
The community also had its own celebration away from the dance circle, singing and performing sweats late into the night. For the community and dancers, the city of Tecate provided awnings, water and Porta-Potties, all much appreciated. The dance's community liaisons worked tirelessly to maintain that connection. Goyo, who did a lot of liaison work, also performed as lead drummer and singer until his voice wore away.
This incorporation of people from the surrounding area was one of the things I most admired about Yellowbird's and Laura's creation. Especially I valued their drawing in the children -- as the Earth Dance Web site says, "This is a vision for the future of our children in the times to come." I saw Yellowbird and Laura do their best to pass that vision to the children.
The Earth Dance, being a human production, was not perfect. We were short-handed setting up the dance circle and its supporting pieces, and several key jobs got tackled late or not at all. We never had enough signage or ropes delineating which sections of the site belonged to the dancers alone. In general, the workers were spread too thin on the ground. The Earth Dance team felt these shortcomings keenly and plans to fix them next year. The group hopes to find the dance a permanent home, which would enable setup well before the dance and eliminate the last-minute scramble.
I don't regret the hard work needed to make the dance happen, though. And I treasure having been able to give the dance to the earth and its children.
For more information on the Earth Dance, see www.earthdance8.org. Next year's Earth Dance in Mexico is tentatively planned for May 11-14, 2006, with preparation and cleanup from May 7-18. Those sincerely interested can also contact me, Melanie, at melanie@talerian.com. Note that sponsorship is a preferred way of becoming part of the dance.
Copyright © 2006 by the article's author