A Totem Pole History: The Work of Lummi Carver Joe Hillaire

29 Four Generations of Medicine Men

246 29 Four Generations of Medicine Men A Legend Told by Pauline Hillaire This story was recorded by Gregory Fields at the Center for Spirituality & Sustainability, Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, June 26, 2008. This story is about a medicine man and his little son. The son was a little tyke; he’d follow his father all around to each house. He’d go from house to house and house to house, and he’d see how everybody was. The little boy watched like a hawk. He wanted to be just like his massive, smart father. Every time he’d find someone who was ill—mentally ill, physically ill, angry, addicted—he would go to them, and he would listen all around. And then he would go to the wilderness. There was an altar in the wilderness; it wasn’t a man-made altar, it was just a natural rock that formed an altar. He would go up and he’d say a specific prayer; if it was for illness, it was one kind of prayer; if it was for anger, it was another kind of prayer; if it was for any kind of trouble, there was a specific prayer. And so he’d utter the sacred words that put it all in its right place, like the words today, “Forgive me O Lord, for I have sinned.” He would say, “To all the stars above, to all the trees in the mountain, to all the rocks and pebbles, to all the flowers that visit every season.” And then he’d feel Four Generations of Medicine Men 247 like all was put in its place. He’s small now. All the mountains made him small, so he felt like he was in his place, and then he’d say the prayer that was meant for the illness that he had observed. He said the prayer at the sacred altar, the sacred words, the specific prayer. Then, once those three were done, he’d sing. And there’s magic in song, because when we sing, we have a rhythm, and that rhythm establishes a good mindset, and that good mindset allows your viewing of anything to be more accurate. And so he sings and sings and sings to the Great Spirit, he opens his heart to the Great Spirit, and then he goes home. He sits in his cabin, and it’s only a matter of time before that one that he prayed for is well. He did this throughout the Pacific Northwest in many villages. Every tribe had many villages, and he was popular, and when he died, the little tyke had grown up and taken over for him. We earn our positions in that way. And so the next generation did the same thing at every house, the same thing: inquiring, being told what’s wrong. But then the underbrush hid the altar; he couldn’t find the altar. He couldn’t find the altar; he looked everywhere. So then what did he do? He made another one. The underbrush had hidden the altar that his father used. So when he found another altar, he said his sacred words, maybe his sacred words were for all the people, or all the horses, or all the dogs in the world, or all the chiefs, or all the shamans, but it put him in his place. It put him in his place. And then he was permitted to say the prayer for whatever it was that was happening during this time. He came back, and it was just a matter of time, and the prayers were answered before his very eyes. The third generation came along. The little boy who had tagged along with his father followed him, and when he learned everything that his shaman father had done, then he was put to the test. “Go and talk to this woman over here, she’s very troubled. Find out what it is. Talk to everyone around her.” And so he would go. That was the third generation. But when he went to the wilderness, he couldn’t find the altar. He couldn’t remember the sacred words. “Oh my, what am I going to do? I’m losing it, I’m losing it. I don’t want to lose it.” And he was determined in his heart that he was going to succeed in spite 248 Pauline Hillaire of...