Last week I added North Dakota to the list of states I’ve visited in my lifetime. Most of our drive into North Dakota was in darkness, so it wasn’t until Thursday, the day of our national clergy witness of solidarity with the Standing Rock Sioux, that I saw the landscape of this far north prairie state.
As with some of our other mid-west states, the view is expansive and the sky is far bigger than it is along the Appalachian hills in the east where I have spent most of my life. The day was warm(ish), sunny, and crisp. At one point during our witness event, I lay on the ground and became very mindful of this sacred land. I stared up at that huge deep blue sky, felt the cool grassy earth holding me, felt the breeze on my cheek, and the sun on my face. The Missouri River (Lake Oahe) flowed nearby — a stone’s throw away. I felt the absolute sacredness of this place. I felt the struggle and the pain this land has witnessed, as well as the nurture and healing it offers.
I sat up and took in the horizon … the buttes, occasional trees, the pond nestled among the grasses, and the flow of water nearby that feeds the Missouri River. Next to me was a small patch of dirt. I put my fingers in the dusty soil and rubbed it on my hands. I removed my prayer beads and rolled them in the soil. I took out a touchstone that I carry that has the word “Courage” engraved upon it and I rolled that in the soil as well. As I mindfully engaged with the soil, a song came to mind that I’ve chanted with women in many sacred circles over the years:
Mother I feel you under my feet.
Mother I hear your heart beat.
Mother I feel you under my feet.
Mother I hear your heart beat.
Way ya hey ya, way ya hey yea, hey ya hey yo
Way ya hey ya hey ya hey ye, hey yo-o.
Way ya hey ya, way ya hey yea, hey ya hey yo
Way ya hey ya hey ya hey ye, hey yo-o.
I don’t know the source of this song … I have seen it attributed as a Native American song, but I found no reference to tribe, nation, or persons. I am grateful for this song, and many other earth chants, that have grounded me in sacred space, and nurtured my sense of sacred duty to bring healing and wholeness to the earth; and, to stand in solidarity with the people whose sacred ground I sat upon on that warm(ish), sunny, crisp November day.
Jan Taddeo
