CREATIVE RESPONSES TO GRIEF: THE TUBMAN PROJECT #3

​ “Even in the worst of times, such habits sustain, protect and in the most unlikely way, lift us up. I cannot  think of a more compelling reason to foster the creative habit.”—Twyla Tharp and M. Reiter(2006). The Creative Habit: Learn it and use it for life. Simon & Schuster.

In the 1970s and 1980s I was a grief consultant to many Native American and Canadian nations. The nations were struggling with suicide, alcoholism, early child death, and extreme poverty. Many visits were heart breaking as I was introduced to personal, spiritual, and environmental examples of death. One of my guides on the Ojibwa Reservation in northern Wisconsin was a young member of the Red Cliff band, Walt Bressette.   Walt was a gifted story teller, a well prepared environmentalist, and a keeper of the fire at the very start of the Iraqi war. “Keepers of the fire” were honored members of the community as they kept a fire going through all weather conditions. As the fire was tended, Walt, his friends, and I would have many conversations about what the war would mean for his nation and for the country in general. Walt was not ignorant of the impact of war on many of his fellow tribespeople and he worried that this war would be another damaging experience for too many Native Americans.

From time to time, Walt would tell a story about how his nation overcame wars, addictions, and poverty. At that time, his stories were about fishing rites and rights, a battle between Wisconsin fishermen who didn’t want to observe the treaty and state law that permitted Ojibwa fishermen to have a first day of the fishing season to themselves. Ojibwa fishermen were threatened with rifles and pistols if they argued with the Wisconsin anglers. One year, Walt and I went to a gathering of the Ojibwa nations in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Bands of Ojibwa were invited to come and discuss the state of “nation,” the problems and opportunities of that year. I was invited to be the opening speaker at the convocation on the first night. The meeting was held in a large hotel with an immense ballroom. I arrived early and planned to address the people at around 7-7:30pm. My host, a leader of the conference asked me if I would mind going on and sharing after “gifts” were presented to the elders. This kind of sharing was their tradition and acknowledged that these elders have travelled long distances to come and share at the meeting. I agreed. At about 7:30 the host invited all the elders to the stage to receive their gifts. About 30 elders of different ages came to sit on the stage. The host invited each to come forward to receive his gift and to introduce himself. It was a beautiful ceremony, taking 2-3 hours. After the last gift was given, the host addressed me and apologized for the long introductions and informed the group that I would be the opening speaker first thing in the morning.

Next morning I arrived at 9 at the conference hall and found no one there. About 11:30am the host arrived and said that the conference would resume after lunch, about 1:30. “Great,” I said, as I pulled together my many handouts. At 1:30 the host rose to speak to the conference and said that they were in for a special treat. Their major philosopher had just arrived at the conference and, after living for a year in the forests of Canada, she was eager to share her knowledge. He also indicated that my talk would follow her presentation. Rising up from the audience was a woman of indeterminate age, dressed in an old and weathered dress, mostly brown. Her eyes sparkled as she held the microphone and began to share her ideas, thoughts she called, “The Four Circles of Life.” As I listened to her, I began to realize that I was hearing one of the best talks of my life. Furiously, I began to take notes on each of her “Circles,” detailing all that she was saying in as fast a scribble as I could but I couldn’t keep up with her rapid speech and the many examples. I thought I was able to copy down at least the first three but she ended her talk before I could complete the fourth “Circle.” She finished to great applause and sat down next to me. And smiled.

I told her how impressed I was with her talk and I indicated that I had missed the last part. “Oh, she said, “let me see what you have written.” Happily, I handed her my notes which detailed the first three Circles. “I’d like to finish my notes with your fourth points,” I said. “Well,” she said, “the fourth Circle is really important. But, I think I have to destroy your notes. You’ll remember the important parts.” She proceeded to rip the pages of my note book into a dozen pieces. I don’t remember what happened next.

She was teaching me a vital lesson about how wisdom is gained, used, and appreciated. Her knowledge, freely given, was a creative invitation to reflect on my life and the life of her nation. What was to happen as a result of her gift, what I was supposed to learn, what I was able to put into practice, was all an open question. I realized that her “Fourth Circle” was for me to fill in, for me to embrace, and for me to honor. I left that conference deeply appreciative of the gifts that continue to inspire my creativity.