SUNDANCE REFLECTIONS PART 2

Sky jumpin’ into smoke and fire with sweat in my eyes to make some money—heroism is for fools and clowns who make stupid miscalculated mistakes, like forgettin’ to put on the right amount of fireproof make up. No man likes burnt eyelashes. Com’on Leroy I saw you lookin’ at me as we jumped out of the plane. I was tempted to wink at you, but knew we couldn’t make eye contact at these x-speeds. I heard a song being sung. Or is it being chanted? Who’s playin’ this blues on the guitars and whinin’ violins inside the darkness? The holy man wants to know if I’m okay.

I thought I answered, "I saw the words "IF" and "IMPOSSIBLE" written on the magic herbs glowing on the stones."

If we could catch the expandin’ universe would we do the impossible and see the void of the beginning of time? If you have dark skin, why do you need tattoos? IN CASE OF A BLACKOUT USE DAY GLO PAINT—IS THERE SUCH A THING AS DAY GLO INK? Digressin’ into the earth I see the roots of the sacred lodge tree growing and trying to touch everybody above the ground. The dancers feet are revitalized by the energy-life force the roots are giving up. Oh shit! The soldiers are coming to bull dose down the holy tree and NOONE IS STOPPIN’ THESE SONOFABITCHS! WHERE ARE our warriors when we need them? Our holy people are subjected to violence by their own so called brothers. Ndns beatin’ on injuns! Who needs the white man to hurt us when we are self-destructing. Who needs anyone when you’re falling towards the ground without a net?

Whoa! Speaking of a net. Going into the Rockies on high without a mosquito net is suicide, but NOT allowed when going on a "hard fast." In the summer time while goin’ into the mts., to seek a vision seems like a good reason to work on an all round suntan. Then it begins to rain. To snow. To hail. Then freeze at nite. The heat of the stones hits my ears. My nose. I cover my ears with my hands. Then cover my nose. Repeat this for about the time it would take me to fly to the moon and back. Someone breathes hot pizza breath on my neck. This is not sexy at all.

Back on Chief Mountain I decide to draw pictures in the rocks. Weak from fishin’ for salmon in the streams I remember crossin’ before reachin’ 10,000 feet. I think I forgot to photograph the grizzly I chased after he took my stale instant coffee I carried in my extra dirty pair of socks. So, I draw little stick people standin’ outside of airplanes flying above me. This is the NO SMOKING SECTION.

SUNDANCE REFLECTIONS PART 3
This could be called INSIDE THE WOMB OR ESCAPING FROM THE WOMB.
Water and smoke, Coca-Cola and smoke, more smoke and the sweat is pouring down my body. I can't breath. Isn't there a NO SMOKING section in here? AND WHY IS THIS MOTHER EARTH CARPETED WALL TO WALL?
I remember when there was a four day rain and we were all covered in mud and sweating; climbin' out of the womb into the refreshin' rain to raise and cool off. Opps, slippin' and a sliddin' PEEPIN' AND A HIDIN'. If you can remember that ol' ancient ndn song then sing along. The ol' holy woman White Buffalo Eagle once told us to keep wearing the mother earth for a day before washing it off. It was GOOD MEDICINE for healing. Imagine my co-workers when I showed up for work the next day?!
People often ask me what it is that attracts me to the Montana  Sun Dances year after year. It is NOT an easy question to answer to anyone any more than it was the first time I went to a Sun Dance. Describe WHAT IS MORE POWERFUL? One person praying or one thousand people praying. There is so much to say and yet my understandin' is no greater than that of a ten year child of the power of a Sun Dance. When I hear the eagle bone whistles screamin' in unison with the singers and drummers, the whistles all sound like the metal chains creakin' back and forth from children’s swings in the playground. Listen.
"Gaddamit SkyHawk! What the hell you doin'?!" I hear the 0l' Man scream.
I'm inside the mother earth again. I'm diggin' a shithole for the people's needs. Doin' a good job I thought. This task is an honor for those initiated into the sacred world of humbleness. A lawyer, banker, actor, politician (a fine job for a politician--diggin'
shitholes), or local ministers on the rez are all on equal playing fields when it comes to this job. There are certain protocols to
adhere to.
TOP 10 THINGS NOT TO DO WHILE DIGGIN' SHITHOLES FOR A SUNDANCE AND MINOR PROTOCOL
1. Do not dig a hole in the west. This is where the wind blows from across the Rocky Mts. and directly towards the sundance lodge.
2. Do not dig a hole in the south!!!! This is the sacred pathway for the spirits! (The Ol' Man said, "The spirits have no need to use a shithouse anymore!" I still see his eyes burnin' flames thru his glasses).
3. Do not dig a hole too shallow. There are a lot of people who need to use the facilities.
4. Do not dig the hole too deep. If you ever had to dig a hole in the Rocky Mts. this is an obvious rule. Everybody will give you
an opinion on this. After 3ft (1m) and diggin' in the hot sun, you will come to your own opinion.
5. Do not dig a hole in the north. Sometimes this is where the SECRET SOCIETY place their medicine tipi.
6. Do not face the door of the shithouse either north or south. Opinions vary here. The winds can reach over 100mph/160km and doors will be ripped from their hinges. Little kids love hang glidin' this time of summer.
7. Do not FORGET to dig a hole before puttin' a shithouse into use. It has happened on many occasions.
8. Do not forget to tie down the shithouses. See #6.
9. DO NOT FORGET THE TOILET PAPER!!!!
10. Do not LIGHT A CIGARETTE OR SMOKE inside a shithouse in use!

FOLLOW these simple rules of protocol and your sundance experience will be extraordinary.
ONCE A LONG, LONG TIME AGO a women lawyer from New York, whose name I will keep anonymous, and I were talking while diggin' shitholes together. She told me about her son who became a heroin addict. She hoped the sundance would be able to help her son in some way. The tears fell into the hole we were diggin'. There wasn't much I could say. The Rocky Mountain wind and brilliant hot sunshine dried her tears almost as quickly as they hit the mother earth. Then the Ol' Man came and asked me what did I do wrong in diggin' this hole?! I said, "I used the help of a woman lawyer  (?)." We all laughed at this.
After the sundance is over there is much clean up work to do. One final job is the one I ever first began with at my first , Montana Sun Dance: refill those shitholes with the dirt and mostly rocks. The woman lawyer from NY came over to thank me for listenin' to her heavy story of her son. Then asked me if she could help me refill the shithole she helped dig. She felt it would be a good way to begin her journey home. From this perspective we are more than the same. We are humbled. Even if it is a short time.

Oh my! I feel the heat again! What is that hissin' noise? A black and red diamond snake eating a reddish coral colored scorpion. I can see LITTLE STICK PEOPLE running across the monster rocks fallin' down in cascades from on top of the Chief. The White Buffalo Eagle's shadow picks up the little stick people. But, not before they take all my David sunflower seeds and round mirrors. The mirrors are without egos. The spirit's of the little stick people are seen in them now. They comb their long hair and put on their best feathers. They fly into the air while spittin' sunflower seed shells down at me. It's raining again.
The Ol' Man yells for the door to be opened! One more go around...

SUNDANCE REFLECTIONS PART 4

Sun dancers are a special breed of people in today’s modern world of 2002. How many stones can fit into a bottomless pit? I can still see the glowin’ burnt crystal red-orange stones even though they have cooled down to be able to touch and pick  them up. The embers are faint trails in the night floating up towards the stars, our beloved elders and loved ones and ancestors are continuing their journeys on the back of the Running Blue Wolves. What a sight to see! The northern lights are green and there is a lightnin’ storm in the west, firing up the Montana Big Sky mountains and yet, it is a warm summer night. Is it raining again? I feel the coolness of the sage splasher splashin’ water on my face. Yeeha!

The Ol’ Man says, "The White Buffalo Eagle woman is telling him something." Ol’ Man laughs and says, "The Ol’ Woman wants to know where the children are. Why are we afraid to teach our children the OLD TRADITIONAL WAYS? They were COOL enough for us." The Ol’ Ones continue their laughter.
Then the Ol’ Man says the Ol’ Woman said; "When you go to the sacred mountains to dream and fast without food and water be sure to bring some David sunflower seeds for the spirits." She said, "Whenever you forget this the spirits will count coup on your moccasins, or a knife, or worst yet, that beef jerky and water you thought nobody saw you secretly pack away."The Ol’ Man added, "No one goes thru the traditional way anymore to become a sundancer. That is, by going to the sacred mountains and fasting for four years every summer until they are ready. It might take another four year cycle to come to the decision you think you are ready for this big step in life. Just because you want to become a sundancer does NOT mean you are necessarily ready to be a sundancer."
I was looking up at the sacred tree. The tree looked like glass and I could see into it. The Little People were usin’ the interior of the tree for an elevator. They were goin’ up and down to get a better view from above of the doings. I cried out in pain, but nobody heard me. The Little People all nodded their approval from the eagle’s nest.
"It is this pain that helps all people my boy," I heard one of them say.
The sun is destroying the sundancers. One by one, men and women, boys and girls are fallin’ from the yellow green skies. Their faces in pain they fall onto the dried buffalo grass stomped down on the rocky, dusty ground. There is no pity today. Over half of the number of sundancers that began this quest will not be standing by the end of this only the second day of dancing. Why am I here?
I made a vow. No water for four days and four nites.
I made a vow. No food for four days and four nites.
I made a vow. That is why I am here!
There is no pity today. I am in burning pain. Two arrows have pierced my back, I feel as if they have gone thru my lungs, my heart, my bones and my soul. I imagine the singers have stopped singin’ and drummin’. In front of me is the White Buffalo Eagle woman, guiding me around the sacred medicine lodge four times. The buffaloes stand up and run with me. The Ol’ Man says, "My boy, you can go one more time to help all us elders go "home," it is our time to go now. We will come back next summer when you need us." We all run and laugh. The Little People are nodding their approval from above the scared tree’s eagle’s nest.

---END--

Ed. note:
LET YOU GUYS IN ON A LITTLE SECRET: As surrealism goes this wandering around my collective sundance consciousness is taken from the first sundance I attended in 1989 until the present sundances in Canada, Montana and Oregon, 2002. As you may have guessed I am wanderin' between a sweat lodge and fasting on Chief Mountain. Although, it may sound like I am sharing my deep past visions I am not. Much of what I am doing/saying is imagined or retold in a general metaphorical, allegorical sense. Any relation to actual persons, places or actual events is merely coincidence. Enit?
What I am trying to write about my sundance experiences for the general public will be lost in their lack of experience. The people who have experienced the sundance(s) may find something to relate to. OR THEY MAY BECOME TERRIBLY OFFENDED. WHAT I CAN SAY OR NOT SAY IS ALWAYS A MATTER OF JUDGEMENT. What I want to say is I am experimenting with in an artistic Surrealism approach. How the hell will I know if it works or not unless I try? Sometimes I feel as if I sound like a kid who's talkin' to imaginary friends. Enit?

FINAL THOUGHT: This story is my way of using words as my colors and paint brushes.

All photos copyright 2002 Wilfried Schüller