Three winters ago, I had the honor of meeting an elder musician* from the Oglala Lakota Nation. Mervin Young Bear invited our world folk band to play music at a Pine Ridge gathering, and he spent an immense amount of time and energy connecting us to this experience. For the month prior to our visit, he shared traditional stories and songs with us, communicated his intentions for our visit, answered our questions, and prepared us with the history of the ceremony we would attend.

I’ve been watching this line of shadow move across the valley floor with some excitement. Wondering if I could wait out on the road and see it pass over me. Wondering how fast that line of mountain shade travels. And thinking…wouldn’t it be fun to run WITH the line?

Attempt #1: I stood out where the driveway meets the road and awaited the sun’s disappearance. It is hunting season, so numerous hunters drove past me to the forest access. Me, idle on the road. Just looking around. Waiting. For the line.

We waved at each other.

As the sun nearly dipped behind the peak, my vision sharpened and I tuned into the landscape west of me. Watching, discerning, trying to differentiate shade from light. Holding in sight the darkest shadows on the mountain side and tracing them toward me to find the line. Essentially, I felt ungrounded as this questionable grey-white light surrounded me. It was a blur. I strained my eyes and emphatically asked myself, “is THIS it?” eeeeeee… “Is THIS it?”  “Now???” Until the shining light, turned pale, turned opaque, turned mirror-like, turned intangibly dull… moved right through me. No line.

Me, left idle on the road. Just looking around in amazement. And laughing.

Attempt #2: This time I decided to sit on my driveway and focus steadily on the crushed white rock before me. Watch and wait in privacy where I wouldn’t be distracted. See if I could identify the change of light as it swept past me this time. I would watch for this gradual shift and try to get more familiar with it. Eventually, finding that “line” as it swept past me.

I sat there and challenged myself to NOT look west, but to be so attentive that I might actually feel the light shifting without the obvious clue of the sun’s position. I sat and waited and my mind started to do its thing. Wander. It wandered out of the driveway, into a story of yesterday or an imagination of tomorrow and I followed those thoughts so far, that suddenly, I realized that I lost my moment. The shadow line lay forty feet in front of me. More laughter.

Well. There is always tomorrow.

Attempt #3: Keep an eye out for photos on UnderwaterBooks Instagram, posted November 15th.

Recently, I substituted in a classroom as an assistant teacher. Generally speaking, assistants help the day go smoothly by preparing materials and redirecting the students who drift off-task or distract the group. I had been doing just this, and on day three, as I arrived on the playground, a young energetic boy surprised me. Upon seeing me, he stopped midway down the slide, looked me in the eye, and said “I hate you.”

Then he paused, wondering if he should have said it out-loud.

Appreciating his honesty, I gave him a genuine smile and respectfully replied, “That’s okay, you don’t have to like me.” I moved past him, greeting other children and gave him plenty of space that day. By the afternoon, he was coming over to share his projects and invited me to play. We enjoyed each other with ease. We had a new relationship.

Honesty is essential, and our book, RELATE, delivers childlike honesty as a springboard for authentic reflection. The subject? How we choose to relate with each other.

“In our own lives, we experience oceans of invitations to interact with the world. Will we avoid a stranger or smile at them, laugh with the children or lecture them? What do we choose? Every moment, a relationship.”

~Introduction to RELATE/RELACIONAR

Come experience our bilingual interactive book event this Sunday, November 2nd!