I can say this about traveling with River: the Ritalin stays in within arm's reach of the steering wheel at all times. Today we visited the sacred site of Pipestone, Minnesota. This is the one and only quarry on earth where the red stone used to carve ceremonial pipes can be gathered, and it has been used for about 4000 years. The site is known as a place of peace, and even enemy tribes gathered here to collect pipestone without any animosity. In older times, Indians would symbolically bury weapons beneath the trees to represent their covenant of peace (the Iroquois Confederacy is still represented by a great Tree of Peace, with weapons buried beneath it).
Ceremonial pipes are misnamed "peace pipes" by Whites, but ought to be called "prayer pipes" instead. The red stone represents the collected blood of all wounded people, which the Creator gathered in his hands to mold into a pipe for demonstration to gathered Indians countless years ago. This is one of the few anthropomorphic depictions of God in any Indian legend, because God is not seen as a person but as a spirit in and through all things. God called the people to council and rebuked them for acts of violence and showed them how the blood we have shed has formed a vein of red stone at this sacred site. The teaching given to the people is that making a covenant to use the pipe as a ceremonial object requires a pledge of nonviolence and special care for wounded people; pipe keepers are known as helpers and healers. While warriors would also keep pipes as part of daily life, it was regarded as a tool only to be used between persons who pledged peace with on another. Once a pipe had been smoked with any other person, both people were entering into an oath to rebuke all animosity between them, past or future.
River and I walked through the fields to the ancient quarry, a trench-like gash in the earth into which people still gather the stone in the old way: by chiseling it out through slow labor, with no mechanical tools. We left our prayer cloths in the cottonwood trees, took a small shard of the stone, and left.
During our conversation, Chuck taught me the answers to many of my questions. He clarified, for example, that most families will keep two pipes, not just one; one pipe is used for social smoking, and another for ceremonies. The red pipestone can be used for either purpose, and it is not sacrilegious to use a pipestone pipe in casual settings with friends. Furthermore, there is no formal exalted position of "pipe keeper," which is a modern invention to grant sanctified status to persons promoted as spiritual leaders. Any person who has been taught the teachings of the sacred pipe can choose to incorporate that into their spiritual life. A "pipe keeper", then is not meant to designate someone as a spiritual leader, and any ordinary person can choose to be a pipe keeper. A spiritual leader, by contrast, is someone who has learned all the songs, ceremonies, and customs of their people and is recognized as a helper or healer for their people.
Chuck said that the Ojibway had originally used pipes made of black and white stone, but adopted the red stone from the Sioux and now regard the red pipestone as the more sacred. But the Ojibway did not adopt the Sioux legends about the pipe's origins, and Chuck is unaware of a particular pipe origin story among the Ojibway.
I asked whether a pipe's consecration (blessing) is bestowed upon the pipe itself, or upon the person who keeps it, and Chuck said "both." I explained that I had come into possession of a very old Ojibway ceremonial pipe, and wanted to care-take it appropriately, and was confused whether the pipe carries its original blessing or whether it should be re-blessed as it comes to me. Chuck suggested that the pipe should be re-blessed, and was pleased to hear that I had chosen to do that, bringing the pipe into the sweat lodge and kept on the west side while the ceremony leader gave a blessing. Chuck said this was sufficient, and was happy to know it had been cleansed. I offered to show him this pipe, and he said "I would be honored!"
I brought in the cedar case, and Chuck rubbed his hands with cedar to cleanse himself. I opened the case, and Chuck's eyes dazzled! He lifted the heavy black bowl, inlaid with lead designs, and marveled. He told me that the lead inlay was made from molten bullets, and indicated the age of the pipe as mid-1800s. He was thrilled with the coiled sumac wood stem, which still bears traces of ocher paint and brass tacks, and said that the design showed that this was not a cheap commercial pipe or souvenir, but something that bore great power and had been skillfully made by someone with immaculate traditional knowledge. He noticed the carved birds head and nearly jumped back with astonishment: "This is a Midewiwin pipe!"
The Midewiwin is the ancient community of Ojibway men and women who practice the traditional ceremonies.The Midewiwin lodge so private that their ceremonies are never observed by outsiders. Chuck said that this pipe had been used in very old and very powerful ceremonies, and was nothing like the typical "peace pipes" that most people see; this pipe was of a rare type that Chuck himself has hardly ever seen. He said it was an honor to even touch it!
He advised me to pack the pipe with sage and to seek a Midewiwin man's help for guidance. I said that I wanted to be very appropriate and not blasphemous with this sacred object, and Chuck said "You are doing everything right. You gave me a gift, you asked me for help, and you are taking good care of this. Make sure it is never put on display, and never sold." I asked Chuck whether Midewiwin people would be upset with my having this pipe, and he said "no, because you are being respectful toward it. They would be upset if this object was being treated carelessly, but they will be pleased to know that something this strong has been cared for and that you want to learn its proper use." I told him that I wanted to be very respectful toward it, and that I was aware that my knowledge was not complete because I am not a Midewiwin man. Chuck said that it was not necessary for me to do so, but that I should at least keep his in my family and pass it down someday.
To Chuck, pipes are living things. They die in captivity. But they thrive and throb with power in their "natural habitat", which is in a family where it will be used, kept clean, and passed down to future generations. A pipe with a family future is a living pipe. By "kept clean", Chuck did not mean polished and washed, but kept in a traditional manner: packed with sage and cedar, cleansed in a sweat lodge, plugged with medicine, and joined only when used for ceremonies by a proper, trained custodian. Chuck assured me that the pipe had "come home", and that the pipe was meant to continue its lineage with me and my descendents.
He also took an interest in River, calling him aside and stooping to say to him that River needed to begin to prepare to learn these things too, and should start creating a medicine pipe of his own. Chuck took down a small L-shaped piece of raw pipestone and handed it to River and advised him to begin practicing carving a pipe. This was a stone that Chuck had personally cut from his family quarry. By comparison, I was 20 when I began learning these things! River told me that he would keep the stone uncut until he had found a pipe-making elder who could teach him how to carve it properly, which was a good thing for him to say.
This has not kept River from using all of this as an angle for his advantage. At dinner he pleaded, "Today I impressed an elder enough that he gave me a piece of pipestone. Surely that means I deserve a piece of pie for dessert right?"
Nope, not even close. But nice try.