I just returned from a four-day pilgrimage to the Black Hills of South Dakota and it was among the most moving and important trips of my life.
Two years ago, one of my dear friends passed away after suffering for a year and more of a brain tumor. He was one member of my more spiritual men's group, The Brothers of the Key. Jim's own wishes for his remains was to be cremated and to have his ashes spread at Bear Butte near the Black Hills, just down the road from Sturgis, South Dakota. Jim shared this wish with his two adult children, a son Joel, who is 34 or so and lives in Nairobi, Kenya, and a slightly younger daughter Victoria who is married and lives in the Twin Cities. They asked our brotherhood, or those who could come, to join them on the trip to fulfill Jim's request. Those brothers were: Paul, Gary and myself; with Stuart, Bill and Jesse present in spirit.
Thursday, June 14, 2007 we set out, three members of our brotherhood joined Jim's son for the drive to Rapid City and points west. Jim's daughter was to join us by plane the following day. We stayed the first night with our friend Julie, who was essentially the individual that was a catalyst for our brotherhood being founded in the first place. She was planning a women's ritual and asked some male friends to nominate a champion to participate in the event. Though that ceremony never took place, that mission united the men who participated, and we now have been meeting once a month for more than 12 years. (Julie, by the way, also happens to be an ex-partner to my recently departed friend ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
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Day One: We met at Jim's former home, and were greeted by Diane, his widow. We packed up quickly and got moving. We drove across Minnesota and South Dakota with stops for lunch and to visit the phenomenally kitschy Wall Drug. We spent a good part of the day telling stories about Jim, and just getting into each others heads (in a good way). We made it to Julie's in Rapid City by early evening and she had prepared a roast turkey for us to enjoy. We finished the evening with some last minute errands, I had a glass of Guinness, and we tucked in for a good night's sleep.
Day Two: We awoke early and had some coffee, and then headed to Fort Hayes for all you can eat pancakes only 99 cents! The biscuits and sausage gravy were extra, but many of us went for it anyway. We left Julie and headed out to visit some giant heads. The Crazy Horse memorial monument is incredible, and Mount Rushmore is pretty cool too. We drove around and took in the Black Hills National Forest, taking time to go for a short walk. We dropped off Gary (who would be staying at Julie's, while the rest of us tented) and headed up to Sturgis and then to the campground at Bear Butte State Park to set up camp.
For those who don't know, Bear Butte is perhaps the most sacred site to the Lakota (who call it Mato Paha) and Cheyenne (who call it Noahvose) peoples. It is a mountain that rises up in the middle of the prairie to a height of over 1250 feet. We discovered that the spreading of human remains is not permitted on the sacred mountain, and in fact non-tribal members are not allowed off the trails in any way. We discussed the dilemma the rest of the day, and into the next.
After setting up camp, and checking out the mountain, we headed back down to Rapid City airport to pick up Victoria, and then into town for some great supper. We ate at the Firehouse brew pub, then headed home. As we tucked in, we could hear the ceremonial camp across the road under the mountain and their drumming and sacred singing.
Day Three: We awoke early to the sound of a storm, but it quickly burned off and we made breakfast. I turned Joel onto the delights of Kona beans. Julie was heading up to Spearfish for a wedding that day and she dropped Gary off and we prepared for our trek. We called upon the sacred archetype of Papa Legba or Allegua, a patron of Jim's. We honored Papa with fine belgian chocolate, a delicious Dominican cohiba cigar and a 16-year aged bottle of single malt Old Bushmill's Irish whiskey. Bushmill's was Jim's favorite whiskey, which he considered a sacrament to the cult of Jim Morrison. He may not have approved of the high end stuff, he would have argued I suspect that he couldn't tell the difference anyway and it was a waste of money, but we enjoyed it very much—though sparingly.
Up the mountain and down again covers four miles and a 1000-foot ascent in just about three hours. The sights on the climb were beautiful, and the weather was perfect. Only four of us made it to the summit, Gary had stopped at about the three-quarter mark. We had a ceremony at the top and after some reflection, we started our descent.
I won't say what we did with Jim's remains, but all of us there made a thoughtful decision, and we are confident that Jim and his community, as well as the Lakota and Cheyenne peoples would be comfortable with what was done to lay his ashes to rest. I will confirm that his remains made the trip with us to the peak and also that his remains were spread in view of the mountain. He was taken by the four elements to the four directions and we watched him go. Wherever his ashes come to rest, the mountain is his tombstone, and I hope to return again some day to visit him there.
After our descent, we returned to camp, some of us took naps, and we waited for Julie to return and take Gary back to Rapid City. The four of us at camp of us decided to go into the town of Deadwood, and we discovered it was Wild Bill Hickock days. Live music in the street (a Led Zeppelin cover band of all things), and many people. Most of them looked like the response to a call to central casting ("Send us down two professional gamblers, some students from Boulder, three or four retired couples from Chicago, some families with kids, a couple of drunks, plenty of mullet haircuts, a handful of Japanese tourists and just keep those bikers coming!") We got ice cream, stopped at some of the free museums and other educational stops, and then headed back home to make supper. We got the pasta done just in time to ride out the tornado warning in the tent. We ate a delicious dinner, had a shot of whiskey and tucked in. The storm blew over in the night, but the lightning strikes on the Black Hills on the western horizon were spectacular.
Day Four: We awoke high and dry, with a warming sun and plenty to eat. I was the first to wish Joel a Happy Father's Day, his first. Joel's daughter Natasha is about six months old, and is living currently in Uganda with Joel's partner, and some-day wife, Jolly. We had more coffee, packed up and headed back down to Rapid City to pick up Gary. Our local hostess and dear friend Julie fed us again and even offered to take Victoria to the airport later that afternoon. After a few minutes of difficult goodbyes to the girls, the boys packed into the car and headed east again.
We made stops at the badlands which are incredible (and I bagged an Earthcache geocache!). We had pie and a traditional western lunch (chicked-fried steak in my case), and then just headed home. It is about 12 hours or less each way, but the company was wonderful, with much laughter and good stories, and it passed quickly. We again wished one another Happy Father's Day, and spent a little time being present with our friend Gary, whose daughter Emily passed away several years ago.
Summation:We did some other smaller things over the weekend, but these are just the key events. The real joys were plentiful and more difficult to portray in words. I got to know my friend Jim's children, and found them to be wonderful people—not that I expected anything less. They are funny, intelligent, appropriately silly (just like me), and dedicated to family, compassion for others and being totally present for each other and for their friends. We heard many tales of Joel's life in Africa for the past seven or so years, the cultural clashes and also those things he loves most, including of course his family. I am privileged to know them both, and am so grateful to see their father smiling at me from behind their eyes.
I've known Gary and Paul for years, of course, and I know them intimately. For my relationship to them, this was a weekend of reconnecting and rediscovering the joy of their friendship and their caring. Both of them treat life as an adventure and laugh freely and they share their emotions freely as well. And for Julie I have nothing but gratitude for her loving generosity, and for her wonderful laugh. It was good to see you sister.
When we left home for the West at the start of our journey, we had no plans except that we knew where we would be sleeping each night and when Victoria arrived at the airport. Everything else happened spontaneously. It was almost as though someone were clearing the path for our journey, because I would not change one moment of the trip. Everything fell into place, just when it needed to.
Despite the fact that there was so much death overshadowing the journey (Jim's ashes, the death of Julie's ex this spring, Emily's passing and its poignancy on Father's Day) it was, without a doubt, an absolute and exquisite joy for me.
One thing we realized as we were saying goodbye to Julie and the Black Hills: We finally chose our champion, and we celebrated his spirit in a most sacred place. Rest in peace James Runnels, a.k.a. Mad Dog a.k.a. Moon Dog.
I'm feeling: |
Ecstatic, yet Wistful |
