“It is a good day to die. It is a good day to live.” These are lodge words. I was given them by Richard. I hold his Earth name in my heart, as I hold my own. He was given the words through a Lakota teacher. I wish I better knew the lineage. But what I do know is that Richard’s life has been a blessing of the highest order to many of us. And now his dying time is here.
Sorrow makes a knot of memory. Together are tied many Sundays in the lodge. Prayer with bodies. Stories. Laughter. The hamblachas, those times where I was most fully in contact with myself and the universe through his guidance and companionship. The pack of German Shepherds, with him as their gentle alpha. Gerda, not a German Shepherd, but his beloved second in the pack. The wood stove in the dining room. Pow-Wows. Sober New Year’s Eve sweats. Robert Burns dinners. Celtic Festivals. Yard work. Mimi and the horses. The Friendship with Pam and Lloyd. lisa, Dave, Gina. Michael, the next pipe carrier. The collapse of the lodge. The sweet fern tea and the pears while I waited and rested Wakan, tears in eyes at greatest nourishment. Pride. Investment. Empowerment. The history class that brought us together. The visits after moving away. Learning active listening. Greet the directions. Singing. Drumming. The stories of his many lives in this body and throughout eternity. Believing in everything, while also skeptical of it all. The magnetism of the outlier. The oddities that were drawn towards the lodge magic, new age, witches, the well-versed in the tradition, the newcomers, the elders, the hayoka, the broken. All are welcome. All are worthy. All are loved. We are connected. We are related.
Love makes a ritual of memory. The lodge returns in the heart. The seed I found in the rain sprouts. The knot loosens. Bless yourselves. Splash! The water on the hot rocks freed of ash by sweet grass.
It is a good day to die.
The lodge is a place. The lodge is not a place. The lodge is our lives. Richard has touched each of our lives. Our lives touch other lives. Mitakuye oyasin, all my relations, we are connected. What follows is a connection with all of you. It is addressed to our sister lisa (Otter Crossing Flood) and my dear writing partner Emily. This is an imprint from Richard. This is the lodge that is not a place. This is for all of you. All of the people. So that the people may live.
All my people
This is for you
All my children
This is for you
In the lodge there is no amen. There is mitakuye oyasin—all my relations. It is the interconnections of all things. Said throughout, but especially during the four openings of the door following our time in the sweatlodge womb. Mitakuye oyasin.
Mother Earth
And all your children
All my relations
I give away to you
First Round. Invocation. May what is real in every myth be with us. From muse to hero, fates and journeys, epics and ballads, sacrifice and rescue. Mitakuye oyasin.
All my sisters
This is for you
All my brothers
This is for you
Second Round. Prayers for others. For the well-being of my two writing sisters. That you may ever be satisfied enough with your works to take pride in all that you accomplish and all those you touch with the bold love of this craft that is a cycle of life giving to writing and writing giving to life. And that you may ever be not so satisfied with your works that it is considered fully done. We do this so that the people may live. And for Richard, who’s name and face are never forgotten, but was brought to the front of mind through lisa’s presence in a week of all three interconnected in writing. In my telling Emily of Richard, I heard myself say if there is a man who I dedicate my love from son to father, it is Richard. What a gift he has been to so many. What a gift he made of his life. May the close of his life be one that felts the warmth of love that he has cultivated in the world. Mitakuye oyasin.
Mother Earth
And all your children
All my relations
I give away to you
Third Round. Prayers for self. May I live in such a way that honors you two, my sisters; and Richard our brother. May I never forget that what good things I do come from the time spent holding each other up, playing, laughing, speaking, and loving self/other/family/community/world. And may the sacredness of this never be lost to reverence, because we are grounded in the goodness of dirty hands and dirty jokes. Mitakuye oyasin.
All my elders
This is for you
All my teachers
This is for you
Fourth Round. Release. In the space between third and forth, we are with the pipe. We are all in. All rocks. All water. Every intensity for the fourth. What we do with our hands, hearts, bodies, words, breath, rest, wealth, and life, we do in the love of the giveaway. Mitakuye oyasin.
Mother Earth
And all your children
All my relations
I give away to you
I give away to you.