![]() It felt like a sermon when he shared the vision he has for Native people. It felt like he was channeling the experiences he’s had, pulling metaphors out of the sky, “like a waterfall of all the grace and support you could need.” He has told me he was very shy, but now the words come. His hands formed a shallow cup as he indicated the book on the small table beside him, as if showing respect, honoring the words he wants available to Northern Ponca youth. He describes his growing understanding, the journey from “a teenager, left alone to wander and cope like a crazy man for years and years,” his visions and encounters with little people teaching him, experiences that communicate a visceral joy.Īt the reading, Taylor talked about the holy men, heyoka, and sundancers he has known, saying each word slowly. ![]() In an easy conversational style, Taylor describes sundances and people he’s met. Taylor began a decades long immersion in cultural practices to heal himself from the trauma he experienced in childhood and reconnect culturally. ![]() The Northern Ponca were targeted for termination in the 1960s, as the Osage were. ![]() Generations of Taylor’s family were separated from their culture, which isn’t surprising given the multiple assaults on Northern Ponca sovereignty by the U.S. In Astoria, Norwegians like my spouse, left treats out for the Nisse. Written during his last year in Nebraska, Taylor describes the book as “storytelling, sharing, personal history, and remembrance of these spiritual beings popularly thought of as gnomes, elves, leprechauns,” who he said the Northern Ponca call the Chahochina, the little people. He sat backlit against a pane of glass, a spindly purple leaf hanging above his head. Taylor’s coworkers from the Astoria Coop and friends filled the room. There’s an open expanse of water-it’s about five miles to the other side-a fish processing plant, an echo of early salmon fishing days. Before the reading, my husband and I walked at Tansy Point, where the Chinook signed the treaty that took their land. The reading was held on a sunny Sunday afternoon in a library located in an abandoned bank building in Warrenton, Oregon, at the very mouth of the Columbia. When Cliff Taylor (enrolled with the Ponca Tribe of Nebraska) read recently from his memoir, The Memory of Souls, it was like being in church. ![]()
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