THE FLYING MEDICINE MAN

It was in late summer, a time when the weather and temperatures were perfect, and everything was in full bloom and color. You could smell the summer fragrances in the air–the medicines, the lake, the trees, the berries, and grasses. I was on my way to attend a sweatlodge, as I was one of the apprentices; and in my time of learning and trying gain the vital experience to become a Medicine Man aka Shaman. It was a 3-mile walk, which was nothing, most people walked the full length of the reservation from North to South and vice versa daily with no complaints. Traveling long distances afoot was a daily part of life to Native American people; the old-fashioned ways of life were still dominant here–our Elders were still with us. Everyone knew each other, it was like being in a very small town, with many large family clans and distant relatives. You couldn’t date anyone without having your Grandmother getting angry at you for dating a distant cousin. Who knew? That would end the dating, as we were now family. The connection was always explained to me but seemed very far down the family tree.

I cut though acres of meadow, down a well-traveled trail, until I reached the homestretch to one of the Medicine Men’s homes, which was one of our ceremony locations. Most of the roads were still gravel and dirt back then. You were lucky to walk after a rainfall to avoid the massive dust storm kicked up by passing vehicles. Most people would stop and offer a ride up to where they were headed. I was glad this section of road wasn’t dusty, it wasn’t paved, but was something they referred to as Chinese Pavement. When you got to this section of the journey, you were literally at your destination. I walked straight down a steep hill leading down to the lake, where the men were already gathered, talking, smoking, and getting their sweat shorts on. Sometimes they would grab any pair that was left to dry, without concern on who wore them last. I couldn’t do it, I brought my own, plus a towel; something else they would share and re-use.

The sweatlodge fire was already ablaze, like a fiery pyre, heating the rocks within to red hot temperatures. And they were definitely red hot as they glowed with bright orange hues when they were placed inside the sweatlodge pit. And always in a very specific direction, beginning with east, placing each rock clockwise, with the last one in the center. The Helper or Door Man would use a pitchfork to sift through the large stones, carefully choosing each. You could feel the heat emanating from each stone when they were brought inside, especially the first five combined. The men would move the stones into position using deer antlers. The heat from each stone was enough to make you sweat and inch away from the pit–we usually shielded our toes with a towel at this point. Imagine the heat radiating from either 24, 36, or 48 rocks! For this sweatlodge, they chose 36 stones, which meant we were in for a very hot ceremony. We suffered ourselves in order to be purified, whilst immersing ourselves in deep chanting and prayer–this was useful in placing yourself in a trancelike state to ease the pain from the intense heat and steam. Those who did not pray hard, faithfully, and only focused on the heat, were those whom suffered the most and left with seared and reddened skin.

Before entering the sweatlodge, the Host Medicine Man recited a prayer in our Cree language, standing just outside the entrance, whilst holding his pipe and medicine bundle. The host always entered first. The Elders and Men would enter next, followed by the younger attendees. If women were present, they would sit opposite the men and were required to wear long night gowns–to remain modest. The first five rocks were brought in, the Helper placed them carefully in each specific direction. The Host Medicine Man placed sweetgrass on top of each rock, and a spoonful of freshly picked berries–in the winter months, we would use canned berries. The combination of sweetgrass, prairie sage, berries, and other medicines was pleasantly aromatic and comforting. It was an unmistakable scent that you will never forget and will always recognize immediately–often reminding you of home. The pipe was lit, the men smoked and passed it in a clockwise circle. The Door Man was then given the pipe to place on the main altar, which was usually located 10 feet in front of the lodge. The Helper/Door Man was asked to seal the entrance, leaving us in darkness, only the glowing rocks were visible, with a faint glow illuminating those closest to the rock pit. We often had to double check to see if any outside light was penetrating inside, which was blocked immediately.

The opening prayers were recited, and the initiation of the first chant began, which was to open the doors of the four directions. Were these portals? Four splashes of water were then doused upon the rocks using a splasher, which was often made from a bundle of willow or sage.  You could hear the attendees grunt, groan, and weep as the steam from the first four splashes instantly filled the sweat lodge. It was intense and the hottest of all splashes. As the chanting commenced you could visually see, and audibly hear, spiritual activity in and outside the sweatlodge. The rocks started to spark, a few orbs flew around the sweat lodge, the sweatlodge began to shake, you could hear the wind howling outside–no one was shocked or surprised, as this was a relief that we were in communication, that we were pitied, and visited upon. This meant that our prayers would be carried up to the Creator and heard, that we would be healed, and our supplications would hopefully be granted.

There were four rounds in total, each with its own spectrum of heat and intensity. Between each round the doors would be opened for a few minutes, where we cooled down, rested, and consumed plenty of tea and water. It was very short. Commencing the final round, the doors were opened, and we shared tea and berries blessed by the Creator—the part of the ceremony anticipated by children. Some of us offered our portion to the sacred stones. The exciting part of this day was that a feast was being prepared for this gathering, and a Night Lodge ceremony was to be held in the evening. It was my favorite ceremony, as there was so much spiritual activity, phenomena, and spectacle– it was fun for us back then. We were just young men. We all raced uphill to join the feast.

The feast was always exciting for all of us. It was a potluck and everybody brought different dishes ranging from stews, frybreads, wild meat, entrees, and desserts. Back then I pretty much devoured everything in sight—today I am grateful for a simple a bowl of stew with a piece of frybread; as the Elders did at this potluck. With our bellies full, many of us younger folk raced down the hill to have fun, and swim in the lake until sundown. Those apprenticing, were called inside early to help set up the ceremony, which always included myself. I was an ambitious young man, faithful, devout, and determined to eventually become a Medicine Man blessed by the Creator. Medicine men always set aside a room for ceremony, where windows were blackened, all light sources blocked, and padding and blankets were set in a circle. A ceremony space always permeated the air with the discernible scents of previous ceremonies. Also, in an extensively used Ceremony Room, there was always an eerie paranormal presence of spiritual entities, where you often felt like something was watching you, and the room was embodied with a mysterious and intimidating energy. It would send chills down your spine, and goosebumps all over if you were left there alone to set up. You never get used to it, instead through experience, you learn to discern.

Once the Night Lodge was ready, the medicine men entered carrying their pipes and medicine bags, choosing their seats, followed by those attending. Women on one side, Men on the other. Only young children were permitted to sit with the women. It is important to mention, that females undergoing menstruation were not permitted to enter any ceremony under any circumstances, as they were seen as being in a very powerful time that could potentially disrupt the ceremony or render medicines and pipes useless—sometimes even cracking pipes. Menstruation is seen as a cleansing ceremony of its own that women are blessed with, hence the need for men to have the sweatlodge to achieve the same purification. Another interesting fact is that a female is to never step over a male, if they do, they must reverse their steps and walk back over. Otherwise, they would nullify the man’s luck, blessings, and/or power.

As an apprentice, I initially sat beside the Host Medicine Man, who was seated in front of the altar. I knew the ritual for filling pipes with tobacco by heart. As each pipe bag was handed to me, I knew exactly who the owner was, each pipe was unique and had its own energy. I once recognized that a certain medicine man’s pipe wasn’t properly paired with the right bowl and stem. I alerted him right away. He was relieved. A pipe must always be adjoined to its rightful pair–as in masculine and feminine. As I filled each pipe, I recited prayers over each pinch of tobacco as I purified them over the smoke of Diamond Willow Fungus and Sweetgrass. I enjoyed the aroma of pipe tobacco. And it is because of this, that I sometimes crave pipe tobacco and will occasionally indulge in to this day. Every medicine man has their own preference for tobacco brand and type, which was significant to note if you were attending a ceremony they were hosting–you knew what brand to bring as an offering.

When I finished filling the pipes, I started blessing and purifying the offerings brought by the attendees. Offerings ranged from pipe tobacco, cigarettes, colored ribbon, and colored broadcloth–all which were brought for very specific reasons by the attendees. Most prayers involved obtaining blessings, luck, freedom from hardship, success with a job, mending a relationship, curse removal, dream interpretation, or healing from sickness or disease. It is important to mention, that the Medicine Men would never accept money and would humbly decline.

As soon as each offering was purified, and all the pipes were passed in a circle, smoked only by the men—women were seen as powerful, as they were Life Givers, therefore too powerful to smoke the pipe, but could bless their forehead and heart with the stem. As the pipes completed four rotations, they were returned to the altar. It was time to begin. We all sat quietly in anticipation.

The Host Medicine Man assumed fetal position and was tied very securely with a very large ball of wide leather lace. Even his fingers were tied, which were wrapped around his knees. He was then placed on his side atop a bear skin, a rattle was then placed between his arms. I eventually returned to my original spot, and the room was darkened to pitch black. It was very quiet as we all sat in the darkness. The assistant medicine man, whom we would always refer to as the co-pilot, started to drum a fast heartbeat rhythm, praying loudly in Cree, when finished, proceeded to chant the Opening Song—the song that opened the portals or doors of the Four Directions allowing the Creator’s Messengers to enter—whom we would commonly refer to as the Grandfathers and Grandmothers, and sometimes Ancient Relatives. We all joined in with our rattles and drums—it was resounding, rhythmic, and powerful.

You could faintly make out the sound of a rattle quietly vibrating, growing louder, eventually sounding out in heartbeat rhythm. You could hear the whipping sounds of the leather straps as they started to untie themselves—after the first round when the candles were lit, you would see that the leather laces were now rolled up into a perfect ball. This was usually a great hallmark of a blessed medicine man. As many men with great faith would ask to be tied up for this to happen—usually during a vision quest or ceremony. The medicine man who was tied up was freed from his bonds, and started to chant and shake his rattle. This was usually the point when paranormal occurrences began.

You could feel a gust of wind circling the room, followed by the wild rattling of any rattles not held tightly or left near the altar—some of which would hit you in the chest, particularly if you did not have a drum or rattle. Some of the rattles even lit up and sparked as they were shook. Orbs began to appear and fly about, which in my opinion resembled rapidly blinking eyes. Some orbs appeared as glowing stars on the wall and ceiling. You can hear the voices of spirits speaking and singing in the background. Most of them had high-pitched voices and spoke very fast, which sounded like the gobbling of several turkeys. That was the best way to describe it. Although some spirit’s voices were very distinct; some loud and intimidating, some very elderly, and some were very unreal. Eagle, Raven, and Owl wing fans started to fly around the room, resonating exactly that of the flapping of a bird’s wings. People began to pray loudly; some began to weep; the chanting was beautiful. I most enjoyed the doctoring that we would receive as the bird’s wings patted our heads, our bodies; often finding the area you need healing the most. If it was your back, they would fan your back and pat it with their wings. If it was your mind, or if it was psychological, they would fan your head lightly. It was very tingly and comforting.

I once received a very meaningful lesson from a flying eagle wing. It was life changing. But I will save that story for another time.

In ceremonies, I always seemed to be seated next to a medicine man named Reuben, which was never a dull experience. The one thing about sitting next to him was that he was a contrary, or what is referred to as a clown or a trickster. The spirits loved to toy with him, wrestle with him, and take away his rattle or drumsticks when he used them. When they wrestled with him, they would drag him out of the circle, and he would always grab the closest person to him, which was always me. This was annoying because he would grab onto your shirt, or your arm or leg as he was pulled away, often dragging you away with him. You were lucky if you got out of his grip. I’m pretty sure as a young apprentice, I was seated next to him on purpose. As the ceremony progressed, entering each round, the spiritual activity would fluctuate, and Reuben would be put through different encounters. You could sense the spirits around him, many of whom were also tricksters; they loved to have fun and tease him. Sometimes they even spoke!

Reuben would laugh and chuckle as they wrestled with him, you could hear him grunting as he tried to wrestle back. The comical moments were between rounds when the candles were lit, and you would see that he was a mess. His glasses were crooked; his hair was wild; his shirt would be ripped, sometimes pulled off him; and you can tell he was out of breath. I managed to evade his grasps for the first half of the ceremony. But he managed to grab my shirt and pull me during the third round. I wasn’t impressed because I did not own many shirts.

The candle’s flames were extinguished, and we sat in darkness as the fourth round was about to begin. It was during this round something occurred I never thought was possible; I’ve heard tales of levitation, teleportation, and flying medicine men–I now considered the stories to perhaps be true. The medicine men began to beat their drums and shake their rattles, as they chanted the next sacred song. Reuben was beating his drum, and you could tell he was having trouble. His drumming became erratic as the spirits were trying to grab the drum and drumstick out of his hands, which he kept resisting. Then, I felt Reuben leave my side. He was levitated in the air and started circling the room close to the ceiling. You can hear his voice disappear and get louder as he flew around the circle, whizzing by, laughing, and howling. The medicine men hearing this rare spectacle, started to laugh, but continued chanting. When the song was finished, Reuben was returned to his seat and sat there calmly, quietly chuckling and trying to catch his breath; very nonchalant; acting like nothing happened. He was apparently used to supernatural phenomenon such as this. As this appeared to be nothing new to him. I often wondered what other spiritual and mystical paranormal phenomena Rueben experienced?

Concluding the Night Lodge, the final sacred song was sung, the one that closed the doors and bid the spirits gratitude and farewell. As soon as the chant was finished, the candles were lit, everyone started to laugh and talk about what had just happened. It is at this time that the Head Medicine Man started to speak, and begun to address each individual who brought offerings; had great pitiful prayers; those whom he had messages for; and those that he was given specific instructions for. Some information would require the interpretation from an Elder into English, as the Messengers often spoke in an old Dialect of Cree; sometimes referred to as Old Cree.

During the time of the ceremony, the Head Medicine Men served as a medium, often traveling to different places spiritually, some simply as waking visions, conversing with these Messengers. He was granted information, strict instructions, cures, and answers; to share with those whom needed it, brought offerings, or pleaded for it. Some even received songs, new names, and ceremonies!

Old Reuben knew a lot of medicines, cures, spells, and concoctions. As a medicine man himself, many came to him for help. But as a trickster, you didn’t know whether he was joking, serious, or if what he was giving you would work or curse you even more. He was very comical, even when he wasn’t trying to be. Reuben knew many secret locations to find sacred plants, herbs, and fungus; also, songs, ceremonies, and stories—all which he has since passed away with. I don’t ever recall him having any apprentices/helpers, which we refer to as Oskapiyos in Cree.