Connected
Hágoónee' Summer
Happy New Year everyone!!
With the recent end to summer and the beginning of a Navajo new year, I felt it was fitting to finally deliver a special piece. Back in March, I decided to submit a piece for the “Medical Muse.”
A literary journal devoted to the inquires, experiences, and meditations of the University of New Mexico Health Sciences Center community
I was honored to be published in the Vol. 26, No. 1 Summer 2022 edition of the Medical Muse. While “Connected” is not my first substantial literary piece, it feels more special than previous iterations of my writing because it marks the beginning of my professional literary endeavors. And by “professional” I mean connected to my professional career journey as a physician. I have no intentions of becoming a “professional” writer. (What does one do to become a “professional” writer?)
I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Connected
The opening of my Nali’s french doors brings my first conscious thoughts for the new day.
I open my eyes and see a shadow walk outside into the dewy Summer morning. The sun has not yet peaked over the horizon. Without being told, my body starts to move out of the slightly deflated air mattress I am sleeping on in Shinali’s living room. I put on my smoky pants, fresh pair of socks, and whatever t-shirt is in my duffle bag. Next thing I know I am outside putting my boots on, still trying to wake up.
The sun is quickly rising and I see my sisters begin to run out of great-grandma and grandpa’s house (our Hogan). I run. I am careful not to be any more east than my sister who is running in front. Once I meet them, we run together. I take up the back with my three sisters in front as we form a diamond shape group. The boots on my feet stomp the Earth with each stride while my sisters’ moccasins move with a quiet shuffling. As we run up the road to the east, I can hear all of my sisters’ jewelry moving. The sound of sterling silver thudding against their chests and the wavering of their skirts. I am fully awake now. A slight turn of the dirt road has us facing the first ray of sunshine on the horizon.
I feel connected.
The dirt under my feet that has been the pathway to Bar N 8 for generations moves my heavy boots forward effortlessly. The quiet sounds of a Rez summer morning. So quiet we can hear our ancestors directly. I greet them.
I feel connected.
It is nighttime now on the last night. I sit staring at the flames, not looking for anything, just observing. I notice the different colors. The natural, purposeful movements of each wavering flame fueled by the wood we took from Mother Earth a few weeks ago. I notice the sounds of the spontaneous small explosions. I feel the heat. I touch the Earth to check to see how hot six days of continuous burning spreads away from the Cake hole.
I feel connected.
Again, the night is quiet. The stillness of the night makes the stars above vibrate with each twinkle. I wonder how Coyote carelessly put the stars in their rightful place. I can’t imagine looking up and seeing anything different. I hear the singing in our Hogan off in the near distance. They are singing about our Creation.
I feel connected.
I need coffee. It’s the only time I drink coffee. My heavy eyelids make me stand up instantly to go inside and grab some. I sit next to the Nalis for awhile, listening to the singers sing and everyone else trying to follow. I quietly leave, high off caffeine. I lay next to the fire as close as possible without feeling too hot. I stare into the fire, no thoughts, just observing.
I am connected.
Twenty-three years of life has given me a VAST amount of wisdom. That’s five years of adulthood! Long time if you ask me. In these twenty-three years of life, I can boil down my own healing to a simple yet meaningful word, connection. I didn’t really have a choice, to be honest. That beautiful story I just shared begins before I was aware of my being in this Glittering World. My parents decided to tie my umbilical cord to a horse on our Ranch, connecting me to Diyin Dine’e beyond the dimensions of
western comprehension. Connection by giving back. Giving the umbilical cord my mother created back to our Mother Earth — whom of which all life is connected to. My place, my connection is where my umbilical decided to untie and fall off that horse. Healing comes through connections. Take that as you will. If you think back to any form of healing, at the root of that is connection. Whether that be through laughter, family, medicine or environment. Find what connects you. Find your healing.
Let me know if you would like a physical copy.
See you all next week.
Rope