The faith and the Creator will strengthen each of us as an individual. But we are strongest through connection with others. Through connection with others, we can see each other’s strengths. Through that connection with others there is no weakness, only strength. We are all children of the Great Mystery. Its strength is in us. Our resolve is strong. Da’ anittso (Tah-ah-nic-so) All of us. Keep your circle strong young one.
— Michael Stepina, Letter to Nikko at Tillamook Youth Correctional Facility
The two front tables on the activity floor at Oregon State Penitentiary are the province of the Lakota Oyate-ki Culture club. Until January, Smiling Timmy (Timothy Nunez) anchored the space, as one of the elders teaching traditional beadwork to his younger brothers. Passing along the old ways has been a step in his healing, a lesson he learned from his teacher (who made him promise to share the knowledge with the next generation.) Along with technique, Timmy teaches the value of making a prayer with each bead placed. Day after day, he made a stockpile of earrings, and bracelets, medallions for powwow gifts. This week, we greeted a large group of men circling the tables as they beaded eagle feathers to be gifted. Each had a container of seed beads in front of him and his head bent in deep concentration. We see colorful patterns, as unique as each artist, take shape around the feathers’ shafts. I look at the chair where Timmy sat and picture him finally at home, beading at the worktable placed in the picture window facing the woods.
From My Native Identity (the introduction to his beading book), Timothy Nunez writes:
I saw you with the other young bucks and all of you were playing hard games that would hurt. I knew you would be in much trouble — burning your spirit within, with all the drugs and alcohol. Even though I suffered for you, I was becoming very weak and yes, I held onto you still. Each time you were in that place with the gray walls, called prison, I heard you and your other Red Brothers. I flew around and I saw that you did see me. You were beginning to work the OLD WAYS in your identity.
Last week we received letters from the Solitary Housing Unit (SHU) at Snake River. Two of our original Oregon State Penitentiary PonyXpress participants, Harley Boitz and Britt McAuliffe were a study in contrasts. Britt draws beautifully and sat at the table, head down working — he rarely spoke, but he returned week after week. Harley was raised in a remote village in Alaska. He would enter the workshop (often late) with his arms above his head and we couldn’t help ourselves to stop the conversation, as we called out his name. Harley smiled widely, grasped hands, hugged greetings as he made his way to his place at the table. It was a blow to have the two transfered to Snake. We don’t like to lose track of folks, so we send our monthly writing worksheets to people in the circle. Almost two and half years later, that persistence pays off. I can’t help but notice that Harley and Britt were compelled to write in service to the next generation. The write in reverence to the ancestors that came before them.
Harley Boitz responded to Nikko at Tillamook Youth Correctional Facility about what gives him strength:
The knowledge and wisdom my elders have passed down to me over the last thirty-one years of my young life has taught me that I come from a fierce warrior bloodline, Hunkpapa Lakota, Backfeet, and Cherokee. This keeps my head held high, back held straight, and my feet continuing to walk this Red Road.
Britt McAuliffe was compelled to write this letter to his younger self after a phone call left him with something heavy hanging over him. Our PonyXpress worksheet with the prompt to write a younger self slid under his cell door and Britt was compelled. Upon completing the letter, he felt the “ugly” release. Here’s To Young Britt’n’Them Other Young Guys Dazzled by What They Wouldn’t Do Without:
The beauty of us being Indigenous, modern-day warriors on this side of the fence is we don’t gotta turn back to be “RIGHT.” We run forward to the true foundation of our illusion, power that is as old as time itself and not yet lost. So, I say again to myself and the rest of you boys: Focus up, make of yourself a teacher.
Michael Stepina has also been writing from the Snake SHU and has been submitting so frequently that we have compiled a few pieces. First, we have excerpted his response to Chris at Tillamook: One of my brothers, a wise man, he says we are the author of our own stories. He means life is hard and it’s supposed to be. The ups and downs, the scrapes and bruises, they teach us strength and wisdom.
Micheal Stepina, Replanting:
Born in the light of the familiar —
Raised in the sun of my family’s love.
The family changes.
It is moved in spirit and body to a faraway place of similar yet different light.
The shadows are different, longer, darker.
Michael Stepina, It’s Not Failing:
It’s not failing. It’s learning. Fall but get up. Get up smarter. Some people never fall, so they think. Of course, some only do comfort and familiarity. They are like a basketball in a basketball game. No matter which way they go, they believe themselves to be always making forward progress.
And finally, we have included a first submission from Edward Lee Hays from OSP who writes Aaron at Tillamook: For me it took many, many years and situations to realize the unconditional love in my family, whether it were mine for them or theirs for me. For instance, I have always had unconditional love for the family members that I am closest to. My late sister and I had an unbreakable bond. She was my best friend. My mother is my hero and my rock. She had to take on not only the role of my mother, but also my father’s role for many years in my life.
As Michael reminds us at the top of this post, strength comes in the collective — the importance of working shoulder to shoulder toward a common goal. The beaders may sit together quietly, but they influence one another. Individual choices of color and pattern light the imagination of one’s neighbor. In a similar way, we write together in the workshop, reading and listening to our fellows. As we read the messages from the guys writing from solitary, I am reminded of the luxury of companionship. We expand when we try out ideas face to face. We read each other’s reactions as we develop our ideas. A spark comes from learning a different approach to solving a problem — or to have someone nearby to encourage you to keep trying when you hit a roadblock. Our phones would have us believe that the world is in our pockets, when in fact that world is encased in glass and metal, often a barrier akin to a solitary cell. | TDS