#hopi
#books #literature #cooking #hopi
I’m making Indian Fry Bread. Hopi Fry Bread. (Wequivi)
The balls of dough are under a towel now. I’ll roll them out, and fry in a cast iron skillet.
I’ll be traveling to the Hopi Reservation in Arizona in May - before it gets too hot here in the West.
Nearly 10 years after the original posting of this thread I believe the message in the OP is coming to full ripeness.
I know many here and across the earth can feel the wisdom in these words intuitively, but now the urgency is at maximum, the sand in the hourglass nearly drained.
The fast flowing river is now a torrent and will soon break its banks. Better we let go of the shore voluntarily then try to hold on and risk being torn apart.
The message warrants another deeper reading at this time.
We are the ones we have been waiting for!
"You have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour, now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are things to be considered . . .
Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in right relation?
Where is your water?
Know your garden.
It is time to speak your Truth.
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader."
Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said, "This could be a good time!"
"There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are torn apart and will suffer greatly.
"Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above water. And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally, Least of all ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.
"The time for the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves! Banish the word struggle from you attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
"We are the ones we've been waiting for."
- Attributed to an unnamed Hopi elder Hopi Nation Oraibi, Arizona
#hopi #poetry #mywork
Hopi Reservation.
TO GROUND
I walk slowly on the dirt road
barefooted,
hardly lifting my feet.
My head hangs down.
My arms are limp by my sides.
They come out.
The Hopi Women ~
and silently walk with me.
Two in front.
Two in back.
One on the right.
One on the left.
Protection for their wounded
Eagle Woman
who sends their prayers to Heaven.
They take me To Ground.
#Navajo and #Hopi #prophecy says ...
“There will come a day when people of all races, colors, and creeds will put aside their differences. They will come together in love, joining hands in unification, to heal the Earth and all Her children. They will move over the Earth like a great Whirling Rainbow, bringing peace, understanding and healing everywhere they go. Many creatures thought to be extinct or mythical will resurface at this time; the great trees that perished will return almost overnight. All living things will flourish, drawing sustenance from the breast of our #Mother, the #Earth.”
Illustration for a menu cover
I made some mistakes in this pen and ink drawing. It was created while sitting at my kitchen table in Colorado.The owner of the restaurant had several reams of the gold card stock paper in his store room. I had to create his menu that would fit on an 8 1/2" x 10" piece of paper. I folded it, and made a four page menu ~ each page with artwork. He would have my original printed into hundreds of menus.
Customers wanted one, so it was good advertising for him and his restaurant. At the bottom of the cover menu I printed the name of the restaurant and address. I told him that I had made some mistakes in the cover drawing. He just hugged me and said, "That only proves a human being made this menu, not a machine. I can't see any mistakes. It is human beings cooking and serving all the food on the menu. We make mistakes.
The menu has much meaning. It is my illustrated creation of Native American cardinal directions of North, South, East and West. Each direction represented by corn, tobacco, beans and squash. In the center is the sun.
↹유⁝ Dada Africa
유 ⇻ https://lintervalle.blog/2017/10/27/dada-africa-ou-dada-plus-que-dada/
유 ⇻ https://www.en-attendant-nadeau.fr/2018/01/16/mefiez-vous-dada-africa/
↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝
↹유⁝ Sophie Taeuber et sa sœur Erika Schlegel en costumes Hopi créés par Sophie Taeuber (1925)
↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝
↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝↹유⁝
↹유⁝ L’art sera exogène, endogène, sans gêne, ou ne sera pas.
↹유⁝ L’art sera happenings, performances, expériences poétiques folles, ou ne sera pas.
↹유⁝ L’art sera énergie brute, indocilité, hybridations,
mixage permanent des matériaux du vaste monde, ou ne sera pas.
↹유⁝ Mascarades, photomontages, immédiateté, tohu-bohu et théâtre du rien.
#dada #africa #exhibition2017 #orsay #orangerie #museum #paris ↹유⁝ #SophieTaeuber #ErikaSchlegel #costumes #hopi #tribal #art
#hopi #supplies
Hopi Reservation. Part 1 of 2. Delivering Winter Supplies from Salt Lake City and Other Places in Route.
On the Hopi Reservation located in the Four Corners area of the United States, part of Utah, Colorado, Arizona, and New Mexico, there are ancient villages, some settled in 1540 by the Hopi. The word Hopi means Peaceful People. I traveled to the 3rd Mesa. Hotevilla. I’m a White woman and I live in a large, busy city that’s an eight hour drive to the Reservation. For many years, and with the assistance of others, we gathered winter supplies for the tribe. The supplies were delivered to a large community center building in the village where they would be unload, organized and distributed by us and members of the tribe.
A cattle truck had proved to be a great way to pick up and deliver the supply items. Along the eight hour drive, we stopped to pick up things that farmers and others wanted to donate. Those items included chickens, windows, doors, tools, construction materials, farm equipment, clothing, and medical supplies. Because I live in a large city, where people have mountains of too much of everything, I was able to gather up things. I also collected books, educational supplies, electronics, new scouting uniforms, manuals, food, bottled water, and eyeglasses. Whatever would be good and useful, but also fun, such as games, and athletic supplies.
I would be up in the night washing and ironing donated clothing and packing them neatly in boxes. It’s important how donated items are presented. No cast off trash! Nothing stained, stinking, ripped or moldy. It’s bad enough to be poor, but to add humiliation to poverty makes it even worse. The message to the Hopi would be-
“We care about you. We want you to survive and have joy in your hearts."
What comes with poverty is White prejudice, loss of hope, depression, alcoholism, drug abuse, prostitution, theft, violence, illness and death. It becomes a part of the culture, and is passed down from one generation to the next. Unscrupulous Whites, the scum of the Earth, enter the villages to sell drugs and rot gut alcohol. Hopi men, women and young people fall down and freeze to death.
One winter, along the way to the Reservation, the tarp blew off the cattle truck and the chickens escaped. We had to stop and run after them along the highway and into fields. Chickens are a treasure, especially for those who live in isolated, rural areas without transportation. We drove to those places to deliver chickens and medical supplies.
The old cattle truck truck was freezing cold. The heater hardly worked at all. The cab front seat could fit three people if two passengers took turns with one crunched up on the floorboard, under the dashboard. It’s fine because it’s warmer down there. Two are in the back of the truck. That location is too cold to endure for very long, so we had to all take turns going from the warmer inside of the truck to the cold back. The return trip was always worse in the back because without all the supplies, there was very little to block the cold air and wind.
Vans could also be used to deliver supplies, and things were shipped by the United States Post Office, but the cattle truck was the best for large deliveries of much needed supplies.
A TREASURE FROM THE HOPI RESERVATION
Obsidian is a gemstone of volcanic glass that forms when lava cools very quickly. It is most commonly black, but can be blue, red, orange, yellow or swirled. Obsidian is relatively soft and breaks or chips easily upon impact so it is not appropriate for jewelry such as rings and bracelets but it is used in earrings, brooches and pendants . It is also cut into beads and cabochons or used to make tumbled stones. Ancient people skillfully broke chips off the edges of obsidian pieces to make extremely sharp tools and weapons such as knives, arrowheads, spears and scrapers. This is a large chunk of obsidian.
Hopi Reservation. 3rd Mesa Hotevilla. Part 2 of 2. SHOVED OUT OF BED.
PRIVILEGE HAS RESPONSIBILITIES.
On the Hopi Reservation there are villages that are referred to as Traditional, and then there are the more modern villages. The Traditional Hopi were once called the Hostiles because they rejected the ways of the White culture and wanted to adhere to their religion. After bringing winter supplies, and by invitation, I mostly stayed with the Hostiles. There is no electricity, running water, or indoor plumbing. The outhouse is…out there. The Hopi houses can be very nice and occupied by Hopis who make a good living. There are also amazing adobe homes, mobile homes and other types of residential buildings.
An example of the Hostiles would be a modern home, including new adobe homes, with a modern double sink in the kitchen, but there would not be water coming from the faucets. The water is stored in a large container in the kitchen, and is dipped out when it’s needed. Hot water to wash dishes, clothing and for bathing is heated on a cast iron, potbelly stove. Water can be obtained by going to the main part of the village where there’s access to faucets. There’s also a variety of other sources for water, and it’s stored.
For a shower, there’s a room with a sink, and a modern shower stall, but of course you can’t turn on any water. For a shower someone will stand on a chair or ladder outside the shower stall, and from the top they will pour water into a large, suspended tin can with holes punched in it. It will be like a shower. A sight to see. The water will drain out in a drain at the bottom of the stall. There are also galvanized tin tubs used for bathing and washing clothes.
Lying on the ground at night, looking up at the vast, black sky with stars, it’s so breathtakingly beautiful. It is also totally silent. Just the silence alone is enough to make me cry because of all the continual, loud noises in the city where I live. The city wakes up screaming, with police sirens, fire engine sirens, and ambulance sirens. The city is a large, tortured beast. On the Reservation you have a chance to feel like a human being, and a part of nature and the universe. Your mind can unravel and be calm. Your body can relax. Back in the craziness and noise of the city, many times I close my eyes and mentally transport myself to the Hopi Reservation, lying on the ground, looking up at the day sky, and the night sky.
By the main house, there’s a building for visitors, and relatives. It was built with concrete blocks. There is no electricity. In this building there's a large, one room bedroom. There are a few windows, and a cast iron potbelly stove at the far end by a wall. The rest of the space has a variety of beds and cots in it. In this room women sleep, including young girls. I’m the only White woman. On the opposite side there’s another large room exactly like it where the men and boys sleep. In between there’s a small entry room where muddy shoes are removed, coats and hats. A Mud Room. It also helps to block the cold, winter air from coming inside the bedrooms. From the Mud Room you have to open a door to enter the bedrooms. At this location where I stay, there's a third building where Hopi men make beautiful jewelry. They use a generator for any electricity they may need to do their work.
On my very first night of sleeping on the Reservation, I’m given the most desirable bed. It’s a King size bed, with a beautifully carved oak, antique frame, a new mattress and a wonderful pillow. I share the bed with two other women. The custom is one woman sleeps by the wall, another sleeps in the middle, and one is on the outside, where it’s easy to get in an out of bed. The outside is the most desirable place to sleep. I’m told that’s where I’ll sleep.
The sleeping positions are changed each night. The one against the wall moves to the middle. The middle woman moves to the outside. The outside woman moves to the wall. A circle. I felt honored to be given the best bed, and also the best position-on the outside. Unknown to me there was a price to pay for the luxury of sleeping in the most desirable bed, and in the most desirable, outside position. As soon as the sun rose, and was shining in one of the windows, I was promptly shoved out of bed by the Hopi woman in the middle. I crashed hard on the concrete floor. No nice, soft carpet with padding. “Go! Go!" She says. Still half asleep and astonished at such a rude awakening, she explained that I must go outside to the coal shed, bring coal back inside, and get the fire going strong in the potbelly stove by the wall!! . The fire was almost out. Everyone else in the room is silent and sleeping, or they have their eyes closed, and getting a good snicker at my ignorance.
I obey her immediately. I get dressed quickly and walk outside in the cold, snowy weather to the coal shed. I load up the bucket and start walking back to the bedroom building. I had never seen or felt real coal before. Along the way I picked up a piece of coal that was on the ground in some snow and threw it in the bucket. When I returned a few of the ladies were standing by the stove waiting for me. The large concrete block room was getting very cold. I know nothing about how to build a fire inside a potbelly stove, or anywhere else. I open the small door in front of it, and looked inside. They had already placed sticks and some paper in it. They motion for me to throw in the coal. I obey immediately. Then, suddenly, I feel a slap in my hand and the woman grabs me by the wrist. “No! No!” she removes the piece of coal from my hand. I’m bewildered, not knowing what I’ve done wrong. Then the women cover their mouths and softly giggle. (They're such sweet women. And it brings tears to my eyes as I write this, to think of their sweetness, kindness and how they gently teach.)
One explained that what I was about to throw in the fire was not coal, but a large chunk of obsidian, a valuable semi-precious stone. I knew nothing about obsidian. I had never even heard the word before. In my bleary, half asleep state, and out in the cold, I only saw a black piece of coal, half buried in some snow on the ground. They realized what I had done. Obsidian is on the ground on their land. And of course, it's not dumped in the coal shed. They liked the way I took the initiative to pick up a piece of what I thought was coal from the ground. Even though I had made a big mistake, I was praised for not being lazy, especially out in the cold winter weather, and in a hurry to be back inside, and to bring the coal quickly. They also approved of how I obeyed instruction immediately, without question and grumbling. That meant I trusted them, respected their authority, knowledge and customs. I wasn’t a lazy White princess from the big city, expecting to be pampered.
That was my introduction to obsidian, Hopi teaching, and to have the best privileges, there is a price to pay. Upon leaving to return to the city, my job, apartment, and my White woman culture, my wrist was once again gripped by a Hopi woman. She placed the large chunk of obsidian in my hand, a gift to take with me. I was invited to return. And, for many years, at every opportunity, I do return.
HOPI LAND
You can’t just lay around doing nothing on the Hopi Reservation. You have to get your ass up and do something.
One of the things I've done is to help them build houses. I stay in TRADITIONAL places. That means no running water or indoor plumbing. The kitchens have stainless steel double sinks, but there is no water running in the faucets. Water is in a large water barrel. There are other adjustments, such an outhouse…and it’s really cold when you have to walk there and back in snow of the winter.