“I am a member of the Bitter Water Clan, born for the Salt, Many Goats, my maternal grandfather and Tsi’najinni’, my paternal grandfather.”
This is how we begin a conversation.
Soon the canyon walls will be echoing the sounds of revelry as we commence the ninth annual Shonto Rock the Canyon event in the canyon of my Arizona community of Shonto. This will be taking place on June 3 of this year (the first Saturday in June, annually).
Music, food, and art spaces alongside the best social event where I get to mingle with community members and strangers in the spirit of kinship and support. There I will speak with my relatives I do not see the rest of the year. It is an event of maintaining connections and feeding the soul in beauty. There will be layers of music from various genres rising from beneath the shades of giant cottonwood groves with a creek running through it. The performance stage is rarely bare of another performer, another reason to move the body through the dappled lights raining through the boughs of trees. The ravens throw fleeting shadows on the canyon walls and the promising patient and pregnant thunderclouds gather above in witness. The mixture of fragrances from various food stands coaxes the belly and the painters laugh in clustered humor. The painters of images documenting our collective journey as a community and Diné people with purpose. I will be among those happy artists from our community doing what we do best—mixing our paints with humor and respect. These are happy, warming days that will soon invite in the monsoon of summer.
Nine years, nine different artists from the area were highlighted as a featured person to anchor the event, to Rock the Canyon, to proclaim our Shonto origins. Yes, we have a very substantial creative community.
I was honored with the very first RTC event nine years ago. This is a gathering that will show our youth that we are from here, we are chapter members and that we all walked that collective walk from a child into adulthood … and are still here. This is an event to give the youth a sign that we are where we are through hard work and belief in that toil. Yes, you can get here from there and this was our way. We who are honored try to give back to our community with our presence at the very least.
As we enter the season of various esoteric traditional ceremonies such as N’daa’ (Enemy Way ceremony), Kinaalda’ (Coming of Age ceremony) and other sustaining healing ceremonies, this is one more of that healing energy shared in the arts.
The humor-laced commentaries and introductions are delivered by our emcee, James Bilagody, a relative of mine. I am usually easy to be panned good-natured by James. I make myself available to this just by being there. The Baje artists are anchoring the visual arts venue. We have Baje Whitethorne, Sr., as well as Bahe Whitethorne, Jr., Allan Baje and John Baje, plus my younger brother Anthony among other notables.
The musical event is what the whole Rock the Canyon mantra evokes—the sounds of local and regional acts define the event. I see my elders front and center glued to the changelings on the stage. Bands known and new take to the stage and serenade us in curious beauty. The sounds of the latter day all night healing chants of the Enemy Way of summer. The canyon walls echo sounds of many joys and yearnings. The dappled lights on the sandy canyon floor seem in synch with such rhythmic cacophony of its own energy.
I have experienced it every so often—in times of resetting our spiritual ties to all, such as the powerful moments praying back the sun in the time of a full solar eclipse. The universal petition of forgiving, for resetting kinships not only to the five fingered, but to cosmic movements as well. I felt this flow of feeling free of our own inner darkness, a central eclipse. Like chants lifted into moving constellation of seasonal changes. Yes, a community’s celebration on behalf of its youth is its most meritorious move.
James the emcee called us out one year to see if we— myself and two other past honorees, artists—could still two-step to our social songs. I was nervous, but once I saw the other two guys two-stepping (or what resembled it), I rocked. The three of us were living outside of the community so it was a test. Our dance partners beamed. In its first year I went up to the stage and belted out a love song to my community in Diné: “If you walk close to me …” A song I grew up with, akin to “Sugar in the Morning.” A song I grew into on the solitary sheep trails way back.
This being my last column on a regular basis, I find it fitting to end it with this piece on our celebration of the future, the future of our community, the youth in each of us. I find it rejuvenating to share positive movements in heart of the Reservation. Coverage of tragedies and sadness in our communities are often. I wanted to be among the crowd countering that.
As I lay down my virtual pen on this chapter of my life, I want you to know I am still sharing in many other ways. I am stepping away, but not too far. I am sure I will still contribute. I’d love that. As the spring passes to summer, I hope to be with my mountain community in its own celebrations. I hope to see many of you at the Museum of Northern Arizona Gala in June where my clan brother, Tony Abeyta, will be the featured artist. I hope to see you at the Arboretum at Flagstaff Summer Soirée where I pass on the torch to this year’s honoree. I hope to see Flagstaff’s grooviest at Jerry’s Birthday Bash in August, a fundraiser for Habitat for Humanity, and finally, the Rice and Beans Benefit for the Poore Medical Clinic. There are enough sustaining forums for us all to celebrate one another. There are.
Thank you for all the years reading my columns that defined me as a writer.
My hat’s off to the Homers.
