A narrow venture with Leslie Marmon Silko

Two years ago this week, the rest of my family travelers ventured back home. I stayed on for a few more days in southeast Utah. One of my plans was to hike up the Narrows, which is the top of the main valley canyon in Zion National Park. The Virgin River cuts a narrow canyon through the sandstone until it opens up into the wider valley that is the main destination in this third most visited national park.

This is a very popular hike, with summertime photos showing scores of people walking through the cold water on desert hot days. But midweek on a January morning wrapped in waders and neoprene boots, I was alone in the canyon.

The year before I started law school, I worked as a messenger for a law firm and hiked the canyons in downtown Chicago every day. One of my frequent stops was the MacArthur Foundation which was just getting started after the death of John D. MacArthur a couple years before. One of the first recipients of a MacArthur Foundation Grant was Leslie Marmon Silko of the Laguna Pueblo people. From her poem, Where Mountain Lion Lay Down with Deer:

I climb the black rock mountain

stepping from day to day

silently.

. . . .

. . .

The old ones who remember me are gone

the old songs are all forgotten

and the story of my birth.

. . .

How I swam away

in freezing mountain water

narrow mossy canyon tumbling down

out of the mountain

out of deep canyon stone

down

the memory

spilling out

into the world.

From, Where Mountain Lion Lay Down with Deer, Leslie Marmon Silko

from Long Time Ago

. . . .

At first they all laughed

but this witch said

Okay

go ahead

laugh if you want to

but as I tell the story

it will begin to happen.

. . . .

Then they grow away from the earth

then they grow away from the sun

then they grow away from the plants and animals.

They see no life.

When they look they see only objects.

The world is a dead thing for them

the trees and rivers are not alive.

The deer and the bear are objects.

They see no life.

They fear

they fear the world.

They destroy what they fear.

They fear themselves.

. . . .

From, Long Time Ago, Leslie Marmon Silko