For Joshua (18 page)

“Petitions?” I asked. “You mean like a paper you get people to sign to show they’re behind something?”

“No,” he said. “A petition is a humble asking. It’s the voice of the people, through the pipe, for the things in life that are vital to us—things like security or safety, sufficiency, or enough to eat, wisdom, or the ability to see truth, reverence for life, a kind heart, and humility. The reason it takes so long to learn all the songs and petitions is because you gotta be pretty humble to humbly ask on behalf of other people. Gotta be pretty humble to be the one that does that without getting all puffed up with importance. It’s a hard thing for a human being to learn. Takes a long time.”

“Can anybody learn?”

He crossed his legs and placed the pipe bag in his lap. “These days there’s lots of pipe carriers. When I was learning
these things finding a pipe carrier took a lot of effort. There weren’t many because the elders who carried the old pipes were very careful in choosing their helpers, the ones who would receive the teachings. Helpers had to prove themselves as dedicated, spiritually honest, kind, and humble before they began to be taught. Then, over time, they would be introduced to the pipe. The pipe teachings took years to learn. Along the way the helper was always being studied for their readiness to become a pipe carrier.

“Nowadays there’s pipes and pipe carriers everywhere. That’s not such a good thing because people learn the easiest part of the responsibility—the words and motions—but not many sacrifice the time and comfort to learn the humility. The pipe’s all about humility. Without humility the pipe is just wood and stone.”

Gently, slowly, John opened the pipe bag. I watched in rapt fascination. The room seemed to grow still and silent around us and John’s movements seemed to take forever. On the floor in front of him now were two wrapped objects.

“There’s two parts to the pipe and they represent the two streams of life. First, there’s the bowl.”

John carefully unwrapped one of the objects and held it up with both hands for me to see. It was a rust-red-coloured
piece of stone carved into a deep bowl at the top and a short bored shaft beneath.

“This is the bowl, made and carved from stone. It’s not just any stone. This stone comes from a sacred place and only those who have learned enough pipe teachings can go there to get it. We call it pipestone.”

Then he unwrapped the second part. It was a long, narrow pale-brown piece of wood with some scrollwork along its length.

“This is the stem, made and carved from wood. There’s different kinds of wood used in stem making but this one is birch—the talking tree. Birch is what we Ojibway people used to make our teaching scrolls.

“Neither part is more important than the other. They are each as ‘sacred’ as the other. The first quality of a pipe and its first teaching is equality or balance.”

“What does that mean exactly?” I asked.

“When things are in balance there’s no struggle, no confusion, no judgement, only harmony. Harmony is a word that’s used a lot in talk about our ways. It means ‘all things true together.’ ”

“I don’t get it,” I said. As much as I wanted to learn about these things, all the talk of qualities and spirituality was going over my head. I felt confused and frightened.

John smiled again. “Sometimes we get all carried away with gettin’ what we think’s owed us, what we deserve. So we struggle really hard to get above things, to get above where other people are. When we do that we forget about equality. We forget that we are all children of one Creator and therefore all equal. The pipe reminds us of its first teaching—that we are all equal, that we were all created exactly the same. We all carry the same gifts within us. We all have the same hungers. We all crave the same joys. The pipe reminds us of that.

“The bowl represents spirituality or ‘living from the heart.’ When you live from the heart you see the Creator in everything and everybody. When you live from the heart you feel truth before you understand truth. The bowl, and the stone it’s made of, reminds us that spirituality, and the faith that comes from it, lasts forever. It’s eternal, like the rocks, the mountains, the backbone of Mother Earth. Faith means ‘choosing to believe’ and the bowl asks us to choose to believe in Creation and its teachings.”

“Wow,” I said quietly. “What about the stem?”

“The stem represents life—all things that grow. Sometimes a pipe has an animal skin wrapped around the stem, or feathers or grasses. They serve to remind us of the different lives around us and that we are all the same. Unlike
the stone of the bowl, the wooden stem is fragile—it can be chipped or broken, it might rot or decay—and it reminds us that life is fragile. It reminds us that life will eventually end. This is where the most vital teaching is.”

“There’s more?” I asked, my head already reeling with the depth of what John was giving me.

“See how each part of the pipe is wrapped separately from the other?”

I nodded.

“Well, they’re kept apart until songs are sung and prayers offered for each of them. The reason is that both spirituality and life need to be honoured. They need to be recognized for the power they each carry. Separately. The prayers offered for the bowl and the stem are very old because they have been the foundation of our way for a long time. When the prayers are finished the elder, or pipe carrier, unwraps each element. They are smudged with sweet grass, tobacco, and sage so they are clean, pure, and free of anything that might block their ability to carry prayers and petitions. Then they are joined, and this is the reason why a pipe ceremony is so solemn: the moment when the bowl and stem are joined, when unity is achieved, is the most powerful teaching our people have.”

“What teaching is that?” I asked.

“That the joining of life to spirituality is the most sacred joining.”

John smoked a cigarette while I stared out the window and considered all of this. At that time I equated spirituality with religion and I sure didn’t want much to do with any religion. Still, being Indian meant following these teachings and I wanted to try this way, even though I was sure that it would prove impossible for me.

“Isn’t it hard, though? I mean, it all sounds really good and you make it sound like we all kind of get led to living as the pipe teaches. But what about the world? Getting along in the world is tough. I had to fight just to get by lots of times and if I’d stopped to try and be spiritual through any of it I probably would have died.” I was amazed how easily that all flowed out of me.

“Living life spiritually isn’t as tough a thing as it sounds—or as people make it out to be,” John said. “Most times people make it sound hard because it’s the opposite of what their minds tell them life should be like. That’s the difference. To live spiritually means to be on the look out for things our spirit
desires
. Things like serenity or peace, love, truth, harmony, and reverence for life—stuff that lasts forever.

“To live for our mind means bein’ on the lookout for the
things our heads tell us we
need
. Things like security, possessions, acceptance, and gain—stuff that fades.

“A desire pushes us forwards and a need holds us back. So when we join the act of living every day to the desires of our spirit it is a sacred moment, a sacred joining, and the only real goal we need to work for. If that was all the pipe had to teach us, or to symbolize for us, it would be a very great thing. But there is more.”

I groaned. “I don’t think I can take any more. Just thinking over all of this is going to give me a major headache!”

John laughed. “Yeah. I guess it would. But you don’t have to think about it all at once. Take a part of it and consider that for a while. Then, take another part. The trick is in wanting to come back to the teachings all the time to learn more. That’s the hard part—being willing to come back to it.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, also laughing now. “I have one tiny little bit of head space left. What else is there?”

“Well, the bowl of the pipe also symbolizes the spirit of the woman. It’s round like the womb in our mother’s belly. Of all the creatures in Creation, only the female is capable of giving life, only she has life-giving energy. When she carried us she gave us qualities that only a woman can give—gentleness, humour, compassion, empathy, wisdom, and
reverence for life—so that, like her, we could nurture, love, and care for all the things and people we encounter. She gave us the qualities that would help us find our true nature, our spirit, our identity. She gave us the bridge to our heart.

“The stem of the pipe represents the spirit of the man. It is fashioned from wood to represent things that grow because, unlike the female, men cannot nurture a life until it is ready to emerge into the world. Their function is to guide, direct, protect, sustain, and enhance that life when it arrives—to help it grow. From the man we get strength, perseverance, fortitude, truth, loyalty, and respect so that like a man we can come to comprehend, understand, love, and care for all things we encounter. The man gives us the qualities to elevate our consciousness—our ‘way of seeing’— about where we are. He gives us the bridge to our mind.

“To live a good life, to be ‘good-hearted’—or
Midewewin
as our Ojibway Medicine Society is called—means we need to use both sets of gifts. Whether we are male or female we need to learn to live by our heart
and
live by our mind. When we learn to do this we are ‘in balance.’ The pipe represents that balance.

“When the male joins the female it’s a very sacred union. Life is created. Another spirit is invited to come out onto the Earth and become the best it can become. Our
future as human beings is more enriched, more whole, more sacred by this Creation. It is a very sacred union.”

I sat on the living room floor for a long time while John went off to finish packing for his trip. It was mind-boggling. I felt incapable of understanding these teachings, much less living them. I walked away from his house that day with a lot of questions, mostly about myself and my ability to follow through.

All the teachings tumbled through my mind and I was astonished at how much had already escaped me. I shook my head and wondered what might have become of my life if I’d only chosen to come back to them as John suggested. My head ached with the flow of ideas and memories. There was much to consider and reconsider once I got back to my life in the city. Much to remember and recall. Much to relearn. I closed my eyes and soon fell fast asleep.

When I woke up John was there.

“Wha-wha!” he exclaimed. “You sleep pretty heavy. Must feel kinda safe out here, then, eh?”

I rubbed my eyes to clear them, glad that he was there. “Safe enough, I guess,” I said and grinned.

“Well, you did it,” he said. “You did your Vision Quest.”

I was speechless. “My Vision Quest?” was all I could muster.

He handed me a small piece of bread and some water. “Eat this. Slowly, though. Really chew it, then wash it down with the water. You have to break your stomach back in slowly.

“That’s what they call this thing you’ve done here: a Vision Quest. You’re supposed to see your life, your purpose, your calling, your destiny. At least that’s what they say so they can sell books and movies and stuff.”

“Well, what am I supposed to see?”

He smiled. “Whatever,” he said.

“Whatever?”

“Yeah. Whatever. Did you see anything up here at all?” he asked.

“I saw lots,” I said.

“Like?”

“Like lots of things,” I replied and began to tell him about every event of the last three nights. He listened carefully and said nothing to interrupt me until I had finished.

Then he said: “Lots of people nowadays really want things to be romantic. They want this way of ours to be all magical and mystical and mysterious. They want to come out on a Vision Quest and see something really amazing.
Something that knocks their socks off and makes for really good telling, sells books, makes them a shaman or a teacher or a healer, medicine man, medicine woman. You know, things like bears and wolverines, wolves and mountain lions visiting them and turning into old men or old women right in front of them and telling them great secrets about our way. They want the whole Hollywood thing. Like anything less isn’t worth a damn, not believable, or somehow less Indian. They think that’s how it’s supposed to be.

“You’re supposed to have a vision, but it’s not meant to be a big production number. Oh, some people have them, that’s a fact, and those people are very fortunate, very blessed to connect with the spirit world like that. But most of us are just Indians, just Ojibways, just Cree, English, Scots, French, or whatever. Just people. Our visions are less startling but just as powerful. We’re supposed to see
ourselves
. And our place in the world. We’re supposed to see the people we’d most like to be and the people we have been up to this point. And you know, when you see that, you’ve really seen something special, because most people never even take the time to look. You took four days out of your life. You took four days without water, food, or shelter. You took four days completely unarmed with the things we all like to arm ourselves with these days: possessions, property, all kinds of
things. All the things we lose ourselves in. You came out here unarmed and unadorned and let the world have its way with you. And you saw something.”