by Kim Roberts
© 2000
The beat of the drum is the heartbeat of the Earth . . . calling to her children . . . calling her children home.
Kiowa children were not allowed near the sweat lodge. The lodge was the site of a serious ritual for adults, not a place for curious children. Buck remembered a rebellious boy named Standing Horse who had been severely punished for breaking the rule and entering where he was forbidden to go. Teaspoon had long been an advocate of "the sweat" and all the riders had, at some point, been ushered into his lodge for a private reprimand of their transgression or a fatherly lecture on the mysteries of life or the even more perplexing mysteries of women. But Teaspoon's sweat lodges were more a place for quiet conversation, not the spiritual center that Two Rains described. Listening to the old prophet, Buck began to realize how little he knew of the ceremony.
The sweat lodge of the Owl Doctor Society had already been prepared when Buck and Two Rains arrived, as if the lodge knew they were coming. According to tradition, the lodge was constructed of twelve bent willow reeds, the entrance facing the east. The ends of the reeds were securely anchored into the earth and the entire curved structure draped with animal hides so that no light found its way inside. As instructed, Buck removed his shirt and boots, offered a smoldering bundle of sage to the six directions - east, west, north, south, earth and sky - asked a blessing for "all my relations" and crept into the dark silence behind the frail old prophet. Once inside the lodge, Two Rains moved in a clockwise direction around the heated rocks already glowing orange with a magical fire. All movement, he explained, inside the lodge must be done in the specified direction because that was the direction the earth moved and it was not wise to go against what was natural. The old man reached into his bag and withdrew pinches of tobacco, sweet grass, sage and cedar to drop onto the heated rocks as an offering. He then took his place on the eastern side of the fire pit and began to teach his young charge.
"The sweat lodge represents the womb of the Earth, our mother," Two Rains explained in a voice that Buck noticed sounded considerably stronger than before. "The fire is the light of the world and is the source of all life and power."
The air in the lodge was thick with the smell of the burnt offerings and the hissing of steam released from the ladles of water Two Rains reverently poured onto the heated rocks. Buck crouched in the small space as the prophet continued his lesson. He knew the old man was there, but the darkness prevented him from seeing the prophet and it seemed almost as if the voice came from the lodge itself as his teacher described the importance of the placement of the rocks.
"The middle rock is the creator," Two Rains said, referring to the large round rock at the bottom of the pile. "Four rocks are placed touching the sides of the creator to symbolize the four winds. The east is the direction of the spirit. It is guarded by the eagle, for only the eagle is strong enough to carry our prayers to the great spirit. The color of the east is yellow and its season is spring. The south is the place of love and awareness of oneself. It is guarded by the coyote. Its color is red and it is the home of summer."
"Your spirit begs for healing, Grandson. The west is the direction of strength and healing. Take your place, there. The west is guarded by the medicine bear. The color of the west is black and its season is autumn." Buck dutifully crept to the opposite side of the fire pit as instructed and sat quietly on the herb covered floor as Two Rains continued his teaching. "The north is worthy of great reverence," the old one explained. "The north is the place of sacrifice and wisdom. It is the place of our ancestors and is guarded by the buffalo who give their lives so the Kiowa may live. The color of the north is white. It is the winter. Remember these things, Grandson."
Buck swayed slightly where he sat and his head swam as each ladle of water poured onto the fired rocks added to the sweltering humidity inside the lodge. His lungs protested each breath of the heavy, herb rich air until he felt certain he would collapse under the weight of the suffocating blanket. Two Rains impassioned voice soothed his discomfort like a healing balm as the old man summoned the spirits of earth, air, wind and fire with his chanting. Buck slowly began to relax and felt almost detached from his earthly body - as if his spirit floated somewhere above him in the lodge, mingling with the prophet's prayers.
He heard Two Rains' voice, but as if from a great distance, as the old man continued his prayer song.
"Ancient Mother, we hear you calling,
Ancient Mother, we hear your song,
Ancient Mother, we hear your laughter,
Ancient Mother, we taste your tears."
Buck's lesson continued as Two Rains described the importance of each layer of rocks mounded atop the four winds. "The first layer is to remind you of the female world. Pray for your mother. The second layer symbolizes the male world. Pray for your father," the old man instructed. Motioning to the next layer of glowing rocks he offered its meaning. "The third layer reminds you to pray for those around you and when you have finished praying for everyone else," he said and motioned to the much smaller layer of rocks on the top of the pile, "you may ask a blessing for yourself."
Buck had prayed many times, but his requests to the spirits seemed more meaningful than ever before as he added his voice to Two Rains' steady chanting. He prayed for his earth mother, the giver of all life, then he prayed for Five Horses who had given him life. Buck hesitated for a moment as he considered the second layer of stones, then offered a blessing for Teaspoon and Red Bear, the two men who had raised him. He then prayed for everyone who had ever meant something to him. He asked a blessing for each member of his Express family and offered a special prayer for Ike. He thought of Jennifer and Camille, and though it still pained him some, he offered a prayer for Emily. Finally, after everyone else had been remembered, he asked a small blessing for himself.
The old prophet and the young half-blood prayed and chanted through the remainder of the night until Buck's sweat poured like rain cleansing him of the poisons inside his body and Two Rains proclaimed Running Buck was ready to seek his vision.
Morning woke over the eastern horizon as Two Rains and Buck left the valley and began their trek into the mountains in search of the site for Buck's vision. The November air chilled Buck to the bone and he shivered, wishing he'd had the foresight to grab his coat before leaving Red Bear's tepee the night before. He worried about Two Rains. The elderly prophet was already frail and weak but, surprisingly, the temperature seemed to have no ill effect on the old man.
Buck had to admit the prospect of spending four days and nights alone in the wilderness with no food, water or sleep, hoping to prove his worth to the spirits was not immediately appealing. Most warriors had a month or more to prepare themselves for the mental and physical strain of a vision quest - he'd had only a few hours. But Two Rains insisted he could not wait. Remembering the tension in Red Bear's tepee and the gash on his head, Buck had to agree with the old man. He needed guidance and he needed it now.
The sun rose higher in the morning sky as the unlikely pair wound their way through narrow passes tucked between the sloping sides of mountains tinged blue-green by thick stands of fir and spruce. Buck would have been satisfied with any of the locations they passed and told the old man so, but Two Rains insisted they had not yet found the proper site. So they traveled on, Buck's eyes leading them, Two Rains' intuition telling him where to go.
Although Two Rains' impaired vision prevented him from guiding his own mount, he still sat a horse with the grace and dignity of a Kiowa warrior. The coat of the mare he rode was as white as the old man's eyes - her mane and tail the texture of silk thread. The alabaster horse and the aged, gray prophet made a striking combination. Buck thought it odd that he didn't remember seeing Two Rains' horse in the Kiowa herd. An animal of her color and quality would be hard to overlook. He added the appearance of the white mare to his growing list of questions centered around the elderly Kiowa.
Buck had only vague recollections of Two Rains from his childhood in the village. Even years earlier, the old man had seemed ancient and Buck remembered fearing him. Buck wondered how Two Rains knew that he and Red Bear had argued and how the old man had carried his dead weight from the horse's pasture in the arroyo to his own tepee. Even more perplexing was why he cared enough to help an outcast half-breed. Two Rains was a curiosity. Buck turned toward the blind man riding beside him to pose his questions but the prophet waved him silent before he could speak.
Two Rains tipped his head back and closed his clouded eyes, his waist-length hair flowing like a tattered gray flag in the breeze. A satisfied smile spread slowly across the old man's creased and worn features. "This is the place of your vision, Grandson," he whispered. His voice held a reverence similar to the hushed tones Buck remembered of the Catholic nuns in the chapel at the mission school. "Listen, the spirits are near."
Buck quickly surveyed the area, twisting around on his mount to make sure he wasn't missing something. A grove of bare branched aspen trees grew to the east of them, seasons of tangled wild grapevines wound in their gaunt branches and the past summer's discarded leaves at their feet. A lone pine stood sentinel to the south, its top squared off and blunt, evidence of a lightning strike. Buck's eyes traveled up the steep mountainside, rough with craggy outcroppings of boulders and smaller loose stones. He saw nothing remarkable in the location. In fact, they had passed much more pleasing vistas in their journey. As before, he heard none of the voices Two Rains referred to. But, for reasons not completely clear to him, he trusted the old man implicitly. Buck slid from his mare's bare back and led her, with Two Rains' mount following closely behind, to a leafless aspen. He looped the reins of her halter over a low branch and offered an assisting hand to the fragile old man as he drew his twig-thin, buckskin clad leg across the white mare's back and slowly dropped to the ground.
"There is a cave above us, Grandson," Two Rains began, a hint of excitement creeping into his coarse voice. He grabbed Buck's hand and hurriedly led his pupil across the rocky terrain and fallen limbs into a small clearing the other side of the grove of aspen. "Listen . . . you can hear the wind singing through the mouth of the cave. There you will build your fire. Here," he continued and swept his gnarled hand over the clearing, ". . . here you will dig your grave, for you must die to your past self, Grandson, before your future can be revealed."
Buck listened intently to Two Rains' instructions, committing them to memory. "The desires of the body are great. Do not depend upon the spirits to lift you up if you fall, Grandson," said Two Rains, "or expect temptation to be removed from your path. These things you must do for yourself. But know that the spirits' guidance is yours, if you are wise enough to seek it. Be observant and know there is a purpose in all things."
Two Rains paused for a moment and squinted his opaque eyes as if looking out on a great distance. The hard lines of age creasing his face seemed to soften somewhat. "Do not listen to the sounds, but listen for what lies beneath them. Do not see with your eyes, but learn to trust the vision of your soul."
Buck looked in the direction of the blind man's gaze, but whatever had brought the peace he saw in Two Rains' face was beyond the range of his own eyesight.
"Remember these things, Grandson."
Two Rains removed the worn leather and beaded bag from his belt and looped the long rawhide strap around Buck's neck. The young Kiowa gently fingered the delicate handwork, lingering on the spider symbol drawn in glass beads. The symbol of wisdom was fitting of the old prophet. "I will," Buck answered, then quietly added, "thank you, Grandfather."
Judging the direction by the sunlight
warming his face, Two Rains opened his arms wide to the western sky and, chanting
softly, offered a prayer requesting strength and healing for his young initiate.
His duty fulfilled, the old prophet allowed Buck to guide him back to the aspen
grove where the horses waited. Two Rains placed a worn moccasin in the younger
man's interlaced fingers and using his cupped hands as a stirrup Buck carefully
boosted the frail, blind man onto his white mare. Buck untied the leather straps
from the tree branch and placed the reins of both animals in the old man's hands,
then stopped short, suddenly realizing the obvious.
"Grandfather, how will you find your way?" Buck asked. His voice was full of concern for the elderly one's safety.
Two Rains reached down and brushed his withered hand across the fresh, young features of Buck's face, his touch as gentle as the flutter of a butterfly's wings. "I know where I am going, Grandson."
Offering no further explanation, Two Rains reined the white horse around and taking Buck's mare with him, left the young Kiowa alone on the mountainside to seek out his future.
