August 30, 2013

White Dogs in the Pueblo Culture that has existed for hundreds of years in the area in which we live are considered Spirit Animals. They are both specially honored and feared. When White Dog was just a pup we were invited to Acoma Pueblo by a friend to meet his wife and mother. In his mother's shop (she is a potter), before we went up to the family's ceremonial home on the top of the sacred mesa, we were kindly asked to let WD stay in comfort with blankets to rest on, food and water in the shop. They feared some of the community would be rude or too afraid to stay at the meal planned otherwise.

Now that we travel with an ARMY of White Dogs we are accustomed as we drive the back roads of our area to the blessing and hex signs made as we pass. We know to keep a low profile in those little havens of the old ways where just our passing through is seen as an omen.

Robert Mirabal is a world renowned grammy-winning flutist, poet, performance artist, and singer. He is from Taos Pueblo north of us and his work is nothing short of inspired and sublime. PBS sponsored an intimate outdoor solo concert tonight for those who are public television supporters.

I have long admired his work and go to his performances whenever they are local. As we were preparing to leave for the concert, the WDA surrounded me (I felt Quinn was with us). They all very pointedly kissed my hands as they sent us off.

The museum/PBS staff in sensitivity to my mobility issues let us in way before the gate opened, just as Robert finished his sound check and was arranging items and flutes on the stage. We sat off to the side silently, anticipating the soon to start performance.

After a while, the artist came over and thanked us for coming and then hugged me. Without knowing why, I took his hands and whispered "I bring you a message of hope from the white dogs." He looked at me, surprised and hugged me tighter.

It was not until his performance that he revealed that his elderly aunt had died just a few days before. In fact he was missing the feasting night to be at the concert, and that he feared an end of the sustaining connection of Pueblo as the old ones (and their language) died off.

"How did you know to say what you did," Steve asked me later. The White Dogs asked me, "Did you deliver the message?" I just pray that our few words provided comfort and hope for a heavy soul.

Here is one of my favorite Mirabal works, Valley of Dreams with John Tesh:

And this how he ended the night...

We hope your weekend is filled with hope and beauty. Life IS so beautiful...


KB Bear said...

That's a wonderful, heart-warming story.

Random Felines said...

what a wonderful connection.... we are glad everyone got the message (and now mom needs a tissue)