My tears stream uncontrollably as I begin the short ride from our campsite into Grants. Navajo, Acoma, Apache.....did you realize it is only about 130 years age that Geranimo finally surrendered with the remainder of his little band that had escaped extermination? A very small dot it the timeline of humanity. He became bitter after his wife and three children were butchered by the Mexicans, and sought revenge on them and later on the US army as well.
I climb the bank above our campsite on a little trail undoubtedly used by the Acoma, whose reservation we border. I visualize what it may have been like before the white man. I stand for an hour, seeking stillness in my soul. I beg forgiveness from the spirits of the departed. I feel a sense of peace, no condemnation, but a pressing sadness that is nearly overwhelming. I picture the native man standing on a street corner in Spokane, looking lost and forlorn. I think of the youth......how could you outrun the feeling of loss and bitterness?
As we were entering our motel in Grants, a native man with two children was leaving. His t-shirt said "Be Brave". I'm quite sure I would not be, if I were in his shoes.
Manifest destiny? I am willing to say maybe an inevitable outcome, the nature of man being what it is. I do, however, reject the idea of a god who says "come into this land, exterminate the inhabitants with guns and disease, and take it all for yourselves."
Yes, some days I despair of being human . . . I hope we change . . . that good can prevail, and for what it is worth, I believe that all creation seeks ultimate balance.
Please, take no offense from my rambling. Just my thoughts on this day.
