#twinrocks_bluff

Just outside the Kokopelli doors hang two woodcarvings by Dave Sipe, a folk artist from Mancos, Colorado. The carvings feature Navajo men holding signs that say “Ya’ at’ eeh” and  “Ha’goo’nee”.  While not exactly culturally or grammatically accurate, they are attractive, whimsical pieces.

On days when the doors are flung open to reveal the beauty of Bluff, people often stand just outside the threshold, point to the carvings and ask, “What do they mean?” I frequently joke they indicate our acceptance of American Express and Visa credit cards. After a good laugh, I explain ya’ at’ eeh is Navajo for “hello” and ha’goo’nee’ is “goodbye”.  Although that generally ends the investigation, for me the carvings have much deeper meaning.

Having grown up in the 1960s, I cannot walk past the pieces without thinking of the 1967 Beatles tune Hello Goodbye. Shortly after that song was released in the United States, Paul McCartney was asked to explain its meaning. He responded by saying, “The answer to everything is simple. It’s a song about everything and nothing. If you have black, you have to have white. That’s the amazing thing about life.”  McCartney’s explanation echos the Navajo belief that everything in nature has both positive and negative aspects. As McCartney noted, black does not exist without white. Correspondingly, males do not exist without females and there is no day without night.

This positive/negative framework of Navajo people does not fit neatly within the Western philosophy of right and wrong, theirs is a much broader, more subtle concept. Navajo scholar Harry Walters once described it to me in terms of a blizzard, saying, “If you go out in it without the proper clothing, you might freeze to death, it’s dangerous. The storm, however, brings much needed moisture to the land, and is therefore beneficial." Harry’s interpretation was that all things can help or harm you, it is simply a matter of how you manage the various elements.

Priscilla and I have often stood on the Twin Rocks Trading Post porch and watched as a violent thunderstorm flashes its way across the land. On those occasions, she frequently says something like, “That’s a male storm. See how it blusters and blows like a man; lots of wasted energy. Female storms are gentler, quieter and leave more useful moisture; the rain does not simply run off.” I have many times thought of her comments when I am about to commence a squall of my own making. Her sound teaching has saved me, and those around me, a lot of heartache.

The other day I was in a particularly rambunctious, some might argue obnoxious, mood. Having tolerated all she could stand, Jana finally declared, “Stop being such a . . . guy!” Her statement reminded me of a basket woven by Agnes Gray several years ago. The title of the weaving was Separation of the Sexes.

In that story First Woman infuriates First Man by belching after a hearty dinner and immediately launching into a lecture about how important she is to the relationship. As a result of the ensuing discussion, all females are banished to the other side of the river. First Man apparently wished to drive home the point that men can live without women easier than women can live without men. The men and women finally reconcile, but not before serious consequences arise for the Navajo people; the monsters are spawned and begin terrorizing the tribe.

Eventually both sexes realize they are inextricably woven together in one great tapestry, and separation is not a viable option. The fabric of life needs us all, with our many and varied characteristics, to make it whole. As McCartney said, “That’s the amazing thing about life.”  As Priscilla might say, “You get it?"

Monday morning I was walking through Twin Rocks Cafe on my daily quest for coffee when I noticed a man wearing a T-shirt with a skeletal dog image printed on the back.  Above the canine cartoon was the caption, “In dog years I am . . . dead.”  This experience started me thinking about the Grateful Dead, time, and, depending on your perspective, how I have spent, squandered or invested the majority of my adult life here at Twin Rocks Trading Post. Barry and Priscilla have made it clear they are in the “squandered” camp.  Personally, I vacillate between “spent” and “invested”.   Experience, however, tells me I spend better than I invest, so the answer may be apparent.  All that pondering about death, music and the passing years led me to conclude time is both my best friend and my worst enemy, and that I needed another cuppa-joe to settle my nerves.

Around the trading post I often hear people speculate that time accelerated, as they grew older.  Apparently they feel it takes longer to get from twenty to thirty than is required to progress from forty to sixty.  That, however, has not been my experience.  In fact, Bluff appears to be one of a few locations on Mother Earth where time actually decelerates and the world spins more slowly.  Never mind long accepted conventions associated with the physical properties of the universe.  As those living in Bluff will confirm, traditional principles of physics have little or no influence on the residents of this town, they exist in an alternate and mostly unexplored cosmos.  Anyone who has ever tried to get a project done in this town will agree the inhabitants believe well accepted social, cultural or civil constructs do not apply.  That goes double for the people of Twin Rocks, and quadruple for Barry and Priscilla, who are known to invariably stray from the known path and wander into uncharted territory.

    In the world of Native American art, Edna Romero is related to the best potters in the business. There is so much talent surrounding her that she had no choice but to become a potter. And become a potter she did—a most masterful potter. Edna now lives in Taos but her roots are in the New Mexico pueblo of Santa Clara. The classic beauty of this micaceous pottery vessel is due to its amazing symmetry and fine finish. This vessel is of the quality that makes her royal family proud.

    Winter, spring, summer and fall, that just about covers it all. Elsie Holiday has woven a basket that embraces the four seasons in grand fashion. She is a master artist when it comes to basketry. Her quality of stitch, symmetry and design make her one of the best weavers ever. In the Navajo culture, Changing Woman (aka Mother Earth) controls the seasons and all green growing things. The Tree of Life symbolizes the Native American connection to the past, personal progress and the embracing, cultivating nature of tradition and culture. There is a whole lot of meaning woven into this basket.