Tag Archives: Animism

The Story of the Flood: A Chehalis Legend

Posted on by under Folklore

A long time ago, the animals and birds lived as people. Thrush wanted to marry a certain young girl, but her parents did not approve of him.

Thrush

Thrush

But the young girl, however, wished to marry him. The girl persisted and finally her parents gave their consent. Thrush and the young girl were married.

Thrush always had a dirty face; he never washed before he ate. His mother-in-law asked him “Why don’t you wash your face?” Thrush did not answer. The next morning she asked again “Why don’t you wash your face? It’s getting dirty.” Thrush once again did not reply. She asked him the same question for 5 days in a row.

Upper Chehalis River.

Upper Chehalis River.

Finally on the 5th day, Thrush said “If I wash my face, something will happen.” Nevertheless, his wife’s parents still insisted. Then they gave him an ultimatum. “If you don’t wash your face, we’ll take our daughter away from you.” So Thrush finally gave in, “All right then, I’ll wash my face”.

He went to the river to wash his face and sang, “Father-in-law, Mother-in-law, Keep moving back from the river.”

He washed his face. The dirt rolled off, leaving his face streaked all over. Then it began to rain. It rained all day.

Chehalis River from Pe Ell, WA.

Chehalis River from Pe Ell, WA.

Thrush told his in-laws, “Move back from the river. I washed my face as you asked.”

The river continued to rise. It rained many days and nights. Soon there were no places for the people to stand but in the water. The water rose and covered everything. There was no place for them to go. Many drifted away and were never seen again.

Thrush, his wife and his in-laws landed their canoe on this side of the land, in Upper Chehalis country. There was only the top of one tall fir tree sticking out of the water. And that is where the People tied their canoe.

They got together and planned what they should do next. They agreed that someone needed to dive in the water and see how deep it was. Muskrat dove into the water and came up with some dirt. He dove down into the water 5 times. Each time he brought up some dirt. From the dirt, he made a little mountain. He told the People to land there, that they would be safe. He told the People “This is the mountain that I have made for you so that you can be safe”. The People called that mountain Tiger Lily Mountain. It is known today as Black Mountain.

Mima Mounds, DNR archive photo.

Mima Mounds, DNR archive photo.

After the water receded and the earth dried up, the earth was found to be covered with dried whales (fossils). At Gate, not far from Mima Prairie, the earth still remains in the shape of the waves. It extends like this for 4 or 5 miles.

After the water subsided, the earth was just like new and the People could begin all over again. It was said “There shall never again be a person who will cause a flood when he washes his face.” Thrush turned into a bird and flew away.

*re-printed from the August 2010 Chehalis Tribe newsletter.

The Day I Met Coyote.

Posted on by under Blog

He came into my life the same way he departed, mysterious and quick.

Monday night Bingo at thee Pe Ell Pub.

Monday night Bingo at thee Pe Ell Pub.

Last night on my way home from Bingo, a light flashed on the side of the road, I slowed and looked to see it was a hitch-hiker. He was an old looking chap carrying a plastic garbage bag with clothes and various other implements of living… I asked him where he was headed.. “Home”, he replied.. I asked, ‘Where is that”… ‘I dunno, but Raymond would work.” he replied in a slow southern drawl. He got in the car and introduced himself as Robert E. Love and that he served in Vietnam. He said he was ‘leaving his ol’ lady because she like the needle and bottle more than life itself’.. and that he could not save anyone.. “I am not Jesus, Right?”… he was from Arkansas and was headed back home after not seeing his family for 20+ years, and when he spoke, tears streaked his weathered face. I drove him all the way to his Sisters front door.. he told me, ‘live life fully, because, before you know it, it is too late’…. I asked if we could sit and have coffee before he left for Arkansas. He said, ‘yes, come on back tomorrow and I will tell you some stories.”

Artist unknown

Artist unknown

I showed up at the Senior housing Apartments in Raymond and proceeded to apt. 206, where Robert E. Love told me he  was staying with his sister. I knocked and could hear the slow stopping creak of a rocking chair behind the thin apartment door. I felt excited to meet his family and hear some more stories. The handle slowly turned and opened. There stood a spritely old lady named Mildred, I said..’Hello Ma’am, my name is Si and I am looking for a man named Robert E. Love, he said you were his sister and that I should come here to have coffee with him..”.. there was a silence that ticked in slow seconds with the metronome of the grandfather clock behind her short stature.. and then said, “I don’t know no Robert Love, and why are you looking for him.” I told her the story of picking him up after a game of Bingo in Pe Ell and driving him to Raymond, the whole time telling me stories of strife and love and the want for Home. She said, “I wish I did know a Robert Love, he sounds like a most interesting fellow.” I nodded, and told her if she heard anything about this man to give me a call and then gave her my card.

I picked up Robert E. Love at the very place I always spot Coyotes and last night they were a howling, and have been since that first night I met Robert E. Love. Maybe I was tricked?

CameraZOOM-20131015170036315So long Robert E. Love, may the wind always be at your back and may the path rise up to meet you where ever you end up. I hope you find your Home. I have learned many things from the most craziest of Prophets and I am grateful for the lessons… even if it was Coyote. So, remember, always be in the moment and ‘live life fully, because, before you know it, it is too late’. Thank you Robert.

Skookums and a search for God

Posted on by under Blog

Skookum stories are found among the Natives of the Pacific Northwest. The legends existed prior to a single name for the creature. They differed in their details both regionally and between families in the same community. Similar stories of Skookums are found on every continent except Antarctica. An Ecologist argues that most cultures have human-like giants in their folk history: “We have this need for some larger-than-life creature.”

My family had no shortage of Skookum stories growing up. My Grandmother, Shirley Amos, would often tell this story as my neck hairs stood on end, hanging on to her every word.

As a youngster, I would roam through the woods near my home, with my bow draped across my shoulders, my ears perked and my nose to the path, on edge, looking for Skookum. My Uncle, Gary Amos, had a similar but different story he would tell of the Skookums and the call it would make… once again, my neck hairs would stand on end as I hung on to every word.

Artist unknown.

Artist unknown.

This need for some ‘larger-than-life creature’ has always fascinated me. I grew up a jehovah’s witness and was fed the ideology and imagery of a ‘larger-than-life’ God from the time of birth. A god of fire and brimstone, but it all seemed so mythical and scary to me. Something that kept me in line because of fear. I would hear these stories of Skookums (ironically told by strict jehovah witnesses), and for some reason, that felt more like God to me. It was a tug a war of spiritual information when I was a child. My Grandmother would tell these Ghost stories and Stories of the Land, but in the same breath, tell us that they were wrong and did not have jehovah’s guidance. This always confused me. How could we have forsaken this land and it’s rituals for some imported mono-theistic ideology, yet I felt a guilt for thinking such thoughts. Then something happened to me on May 18th, 1980 that would change my life forever.

Loowit, May 18th 1980

Loowit, May 18th 1980

I was six years old and bewildered by what I saw and felt that day. I could hear so clearly the call of my Ancestors and the Call of the Land. This was God, this was the true power of God. On this day, I became an Animist. But what was I to do with this new and powerful Spiritual knowledge. Where was the Ceremony? I spent the next 20 years frantically searching for my ‘Ceremony’ in every portal that would open. I became the Volcano, I became the calm and I became my own Skookum. I had to listen for the Ceremony, I had to learn to accept that the Ceremony was right underneath my feet and I had to learn to accept the Skookum inside of me.

These stories I would hear growing up, seem at times, like a code. A code for living that would end up having profound teachings to me. I had to stop and listen long enough to hear what my Ancestors were telling me. I had to stop and listen to what the winds were telling me. I found God here.

All My Relations.

The Hunt Part I

Posted on by under Blog

I grew up with hunting. It seems to be in my blood, although I have been disconnected from the Ritual for sometime now. As a child, I remember cruising around in my Grandpa Bob’s Cadillac with my Uncle Les. The smell of coffee, cigarettes and bullshit hunting stories would fill the air as the guns sat next to them in silence urning for their chance to be fired. Their eyes would dart from left to right like an Owl in search of prey. Chain smoking filterless cigarettes, shapeshifting talking sticks sharing stories. Oh, the stories they would tell.

As I got older, hunting became less of a ritual until it was absent from my life all together. When I was 15, I became a self righteous vegetarian and proclaimed the evils of hunting to the world, which my family would laugh at and tell me I would be back. Well, I am 39 and here I am.

CameraZOOM-20131022190357478I have welcomed the ritual back with open arms and loaded guns. I dream about the hunt and wake up each morning before the sun peeks it’s head from behind the fog lined mountains I call home. I awake and journey out onto this beautiful place to hunt and be reminded of a primordial ceremony. As I sit in the cold damp and wait for the elusive Deer to offer it’s self to me, I am reminded how sacred this ceremony is and has been for my family since time immortal. I offer up Offerings to the Hunt and to the animals for which we are surrounded. The Ceremony has changed, that is inevitable, but the core value of taking care of one’s family will never change.

This season, I will be hunting with guns and soon diving into archery. I have been archiving and collecting stories with different people while hunting as of late and will be posting those with other installments. Stay tuned.