A Journey of Healing and Awakening

Early on the morning of November14, 2002, I boarded the plane with my family to head back to Arizona. It was the most painful departure from my homeland I had ever endured. I felt like I was tearing myself away from an amazing experience that was so powerful that I did not want to let go of it. I was beyond exhausted, but I did not want to sleep. Instead I sat staring out the window of the airplane aching to feel my feet again touch the lands I was leaving. I must have looked very serious. My son Talon reached up to put his hand on my cheek, and as he turned it toward him he said, "I want you to smile, Mom, we just did a good thing for our ancestors." Indeed, the heart of a seven-year-old boy was touched by the significance of what we had accomplished, as were the hearts of all of us.

In many ways the entire march was an exercise in faith. I do not think those of us planning the march understood the full significance of what it would mean; that is still revealing itself months later. There was an incredible amount of planning required in this venture. We needed to raise funds, plan the route, figure out meals and lodging, cooperate with state and local authorities, and publicize the event. It required the help and coordination of many individuals, and in the planning stages there were moments when the to-do list was overwhelming.

One particularly difficult day at the end of summer I was feeling badly because no tribal sources had yet responded to our request for financial support. I was worried about how we were going to feed the marchers and provide them with a warm place to sleep. Though canceling was an absolute last resort, I did not know how we could keep publicizing the event without the means to provide for the people who would show up to walk with us. I learned a lesson in faith that day.

Out of the blue I received a letter from an inmate at Jameson Prison in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. George Blue Bird had seen some of the announcements about the Commemorative March in the tribal newspapers, and he wrote to tell me about the support being offered through their Lakota/Dakota/Nakota Spiritual Group in the prison, stating:

In a few more days, I and about 800 other Lakota, Dakota and Nakota brothers from prison, will begin praying for the Dakota Commemorative March. We will load our pipes and smoke them in our ceremonies. We will sing and be with all of the efforts that are being organized for the walk from Lower Sioux to Fort Snelling. We believe in what you're doing. We believe that it is right. Tribal justice and harmony are powerful thought processes and we commend your heart and whole spirit for working to make the walk a reality. We hope that the strength from all of us will be with you as a reflection of sovereignty and tribal honor.¹

With those words I began to weep. This marked a major turning point for me in that from that moment on I knew that everything was going to work out. With so many prayers being offered on our behalf for what we were trying to accomplish, it would not fail. While an incredible amount of hard work remained to be done, it was as if a huge burden had been lifted from me and I could proceed with the planning without fear. Furthermore, what was so inspiring about this was the tremendous sense of generosity of spirit exhibited by our tribal peoples who have suffered so much trauma and hardship themselves. As George pointed out in the same letter, "As tribal prisoners we carry the same spirit of many of our ancestors who were imprisoned in all of...