Chapter 13. The Easter Ceremony

There was plenty to be flipped about as the Easter Peyote Ceremony was in preparation and the whole area beyond the Risingstar commune was involved in it. I had never thought of peyote as being anything but a drug like synthetic psilocybin, mescaline or LSD. The trip to and back from Laredo gave me an insight into the spirituality of them as medicine. As I talked with Mason and Marcos, I also thought about the implications of my casual attitude towards the spirit world. Respect that bordered on awe was evoked.

On the trip back, Marcos looked at me as though he’d read my mind and said, “Ride with it… don’t resist it.”

The customary ritual of the Peyote Ceremony broke from the Native American Church’s tradition not only in that white people were to be the principle participants but that women were also going to be allowed to participate in the tent. Traditionally, women prepare the breakfast for the men who participate. In this case the ceremony would have one guide from the Taos Pueblo to make sure the ceremony was conducted in accordance with ritual tradition although he would have no role in the observance itself. Still, many women preferred not to attend; but to prepare and serve the breakfast instead. Though some of the prayers would be in the native language most of the prayers were to be in English so that all in attendance would be able to participate.

I fasted three days prior to the ceremony and was happy to find that fasting was not all that difficult for me. Getting up at first light, I drank a tea from sage or juniper but after that the thought of food was mostly a habitual urge and easily dismissed. As the evening approached my enthusiasm grew.

The tepee filled as people filed in before sunset. I took a seat on the right side facing the door. Brian, who was the eldest of the folks at Risingstar, sat at the head, opposite the door and behind the Peyote Chief that was placed in the center of a mound. The mound was a crescent whose arc appeared that side of the fire pit. Marcos, as Roadman, sat on his left and Samuel’s woman, Sandra, sat on his right. She was the natural for her size alone but her matronly carriage commended her for the leadership role of the women and I supposed that is why she merited the honored seating.

Brian explained, with a few comments from Marcos, how the ceremony was to proceed and the roles of each facilitator. Mason was the Fireman whose duty was to oversee, not only the fire, but also tended the door flap and seating arrangement. Mason stacked sticks for the fire in a V, pointing to the Peyote Chief on the crescent mound away from the door.

Brian started things off with a prayer in Native language accompanied by Marcos; whereby they beat the drum in a steady unvaried beat as they chanted. When they had made their invocation with a prayer cigarette, Bull Durham wrapped in a dried corn husk, the drum was passed. The beat of the drum was also carried by the Thunder Stick. The Thunder Stick was a walking-stick adorned with feathers and a string of bells wrapped the length of it. It was held vertical and pounded the ground, chinging the bells, to a steady rhythm of chinga-chinga-chinga along with the drum. The affect was quite hypnotic as these instruments were passed with each person offering an introductory prayer. I wondered when we would eat the peyote. My mind fixated on the large bowl with peyote medicine cut up in it just sitting there. A bowl of peyote tea with gourd ladle preceded it. I soon forgot about it as the prayers and the beat reverberated in my head, replacing almost all anxieties and concern for when in the hell we were ever going to get high. These sounds reverberated steadily via the drum, the chants, and the thunder stick, for at least an hour before I realized that I was high already and I hadn’t eaten any peyote yet.

There were prayers for healing; there were prayers for prosperity; there were prayers for spiritual guidance; and there were prayers for any and everything. Some prayed to the “Great Spirit”; some Prayed to Jesus; some prayed to no one in particular, and another hour passed. After the prayers and the drums made a complete circuit of the tepee, the tea was passed. The drum, the Thunder Stick, and the prayers, continued as the tea and medicine were passed. Mason placed more sticks on the fire. I noticed the arrangement of the sticks in a “V”, the crescent mound, the peyote Chief, took on the resemblance of drawings I’d seen of a Thunderbird.

One fellow, David, who had been staying in the kiva, was known for his Bible thumping. When the bowl with the tea got to him he stood and, holding a Bible open in front of him, he began preaching; “Satan is in the drum. Satan is in the bells.”

The drum and the Thunder Stick stopped.

“Satan is in the Tea. Satan is in the Peyote. There is no chief but Jesus. There is no salvation but in the Lord. You are all damned to hell unless you repent!” and he went past Mason out the door…

Perhaps he’s expecting us to follow him out the door or sacrifice him to pagan gods? I thought.

Marcos’ eyes had a look of grave concern.

Mason asked, “Can we continue with the integrity of the circle broken?”

Marcos nodded.

Brian’s eyes followed suit, then he lifted his gaze and spoke, “Grand Father, we thank you.”

The drums and the Thunder Stick started up again.

A bucket also followed the bowls of medicine and tea for vomit. Mason made sure everyone was able to have the bucket in an unplanned but beautifully choreographed ballet.

The rhythmic circle spiraled higher but it came to a dead stop as the flap of the door opened to a tall dark man with a lever-action Winchester rifle decorated with painted patterns and adorned with beads. Once more, the drum stopped, the thunder-stick’s chinga stopped. It was so incongruous that I felt a tinge of foreboding after the business of the last interruption still fresh on everyone’s mind. Was he sent as an angel of death?

Brian spoke, “Welcome, Angelo.”

Angelo didn’t answer. His intense gaze went around the tepee. He locked eyes with each person… one by one. I was curious as my eyes met Angelo’s.

He spoke, “Playin’ cowboys and Indians, eh?” He then departed out the door without another word.

Mason grinned: “This Bodhisattva moment has been brought to us by the Cosmic Construction Company.”

And the drum picked up where it left off. The distractions of the Bible Thumper and the Bodhisattva interruption melded into the vibration and reverberation of the constant drum beat.

I had expected some sort of wild hallucinations and was eager to lose control and would allow the spirit of peyote to take me, ala Castenada, where it willed. However, there were no Don Juan, malevolent or benevolent, spirit type visitations for me. I halfway expected to find myself naked, wandering the mesa, babbling incoherent revelations from on high. But what I got was an increasing clarity with each chant and a transcendent love for the participants in the tipi. The first light of morning came as Mason scattered the ashes in the fire pit and Brian led an invocation ending the meeting.

I stepped out into the dawn of the day; a special marriage of earth on my bare feet greeted me simultaneously with sweetness in the air that I could taste. Over at the Pueblo, tables had been prepared with bowls of roasted blue-cornmeal and honey, which served to break our fast. Prickly-pear fruit and pinion nuts greeted my taste buds but I had very little appetite for food. The sunrise colors across the sky radiated as the light changed. It was mostly a revelation of love like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was universal.

I saw the Bible Thumper, David, and I loved him and his agitation. David was busying himself with haranguing the women serving the breakfast as I approached him asking, “Tell me about Jesus.”

“You ate the peyote?” David queried.

“Yes.”

“You must repent of this idolatry,” David hardly paused.

“Tell me about Jesus,” I asked again.

“There is nothing but Hell and damnation ahead for you unless you turn away from this paganism and accept Jesus into your heart.”

I was drawing David away from the tables and but this was not my intention. I had no intention. I loved David in that moment and wanted David to know he was loved and appreciated. “Tell me about Jesus.”

“You know about Jesus. Don’t tempt the Lord your God,” David answered bitterly.

At least he recognized the question, I thought. We were walking away from the Pueblo now and towards the goat pasture, far away from the tables. The women were no longer being harassed.

“It makes no difference what I know about Jesus. I don’t know what you know… so, tell me what you know about Jesus.” Holy bullshit! I thought; this guy is stalling and very probably knows nothing about the God he so sorely wishes us to fear.

Charlie sauntered over to David and David put his hand out to scruff Charlie’s head between the horns. Charlie gave a push and David pushed back… Big mistake… Out of love, I might have warned him but I knew David wouldn’t listen anyway. Charlie pushed back bowing his head down and putting some weight behind with all four legs planted firmly to the earth.

“I know God loves you….unnngggh!” he was leaning into Charlie with all he had. Charlie hadn’t even begun yet. “So much that he gave his only S…. s… son of a bitch!” and Charlie gave him a thrust sending Davis back… “Call him off, damn you! How do you get this fucker to back off!” He shouted out his despair.

“You don’t,” I answered, knowing full well that poor David couldn’t surrender. Charlie wouldn’t have it under any circumstance, “Sorry, David, you’re in it for the duration.”

“The duration of what?”

“Step aside and let go as fast as you can and run like hell to the fence!”

David did just that… Charlie lunged past where David was standing but David was too slow getting to the fence. Charlie was right there behind him lowering his head and putting his horns to good effect, lifting David, and his Holy Bible, over and out of the yard by at least ten feet. David never followed me out to the goat pasture after that day.