EDITOR'S PAGE

EDITOR'S

Evocative and graceful expression even in one's native tongue is an uncommon talent. When that skill extends to a second language, it is especially impressive. Recently a professor of English at the Charles Cook Theological School in Tempe, Carol Brookes, showed me a manuscript written by a Cook student who has since gone on to journalistic studies at the University of Oklahoma. In it the writer, a young Native American woman named Bernice Armstrong, undertook to convey her feelings for her childhood home on the Navajo Indian Reservation. Mrs. Armstrong has agreed to our publishing a portion of her essay about one of our state's most beautiful regions: "Facing the evening colors as they ripen in the western sky, I think the yellow seems dominant. My people use yellow to designate west. I stare into that vibrant yellow ness, and I remember the taste of yellow-gold corn pollen I shared and offered to the Sun as a child. I would walk barefoot after my grandfather through the tall rows of corn, their burnt-yellow heads teasing me about my smallness.

"I marvel at how our sacred corn pollen comes to my people from this plant whose life is embedded in the roots Mother Earth holds and nourishes.

"You, Mother Earth, are the most beautiful being I shall ever know. Even when I am far from home, I can see the familiar outline of our mountains. I can see the blood that has colored the rocks. This is where the yei, the giant, was slain by our heroes, the twin boys of Changing Woman. The majestic red is still splattered here and there; the cliffs hold this color locked in their soaring walls.

"Whenever I return, the spirits and essences of the Holy Ones beckon me; they embrace me and whisper to me in the sacred wind. The invisible, powerful unity of their force comes into my breath of life and welcomes me back.

"The Holy Ones came to this region from the womb of Mother Earth in stages. They shaped the soil into the four sacred mountains. The textures and the colors of the land were given form according to the whims and desires of the Holy Ones. But the gods of Wind, Time, Rain, Sky, and Father Sun added their touches to this timeless art. They shaded the colors deeper or lighter; they softened lines, wore down the shapes, cutting deep or building up.

"Changing Woman gave us our own form, our being as we are today. My people found themselves in this beautiful place. I found myself at my "life place," the homestead known to our family, our Red House clan, as Red Pointed Place-highest of all, closest to the sky. The warmest, liveliest red is captured in these rocks and sand. Different hues of red are caught all through the day and then let go again. At night the rocks sleep cloaked in darkness, yet reflect back the silver white of the vigilant Moon.

"Long ago, in my childhood, my grandparents used to send me out before dawn to greet the Sun when it rose. Chilled, I waited; at such times I saw the interplay of life and light between Mother Earth and Father Sun. The animals reveled and played. By their singing, winged creatures paid homage. Suddenly the cold was gone, and in that instant I saw my "life place" catch a fiery red with the first rays of the Sun.

"This rocky place overlooks our homes. From on top, one can glimpse glimpse the mountains sparkling with the sunshine, or watch the angry sandstorm over the canyon. One can see fluffy snow clouds hugging the high places, or cleansing rain bathing the plateaus and hills, or the soulfilling beauty of the setting sun in the yellow west.

"When I was young, I often sat there for a long time, there at the edge of my universe. Mother Earth and my people: together they painted my mind, molded my spirit, sculptured my heart, chiseled my character, hammered and tempered my strength."

"Then and now, in quietness, in deepest admiration and reverence, my eyes take in the living painting that the Holy Ones have created in this part of Mother Earth."

Our thanks to Bernice Armstrong for sharing her eloquence and insights with Arizona Highways readers.