Tuesday, December 5, 2006
Location: Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, Ft. Macleod, Alberta

As I’ve mentioned in the past, this film project has a lot to do with serendipity and also the idea of letting go, so the true nature of reality, which we often overlook, can find its way into our lives.

Today I decided I’d return a little way northwards, to see the legendary Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump. I had intended to visit this site on my way south, but the –40C weather diverted my course. Today in the sunshine, it must be around +5C, although it would be foolish to think winter has already come and gone.

The past few days have been very special for me, culminating in this moment. Sometimes, when the signposts of life line up in just the right way, it’s almost as though the eternal void is speaking directly to us.

I’m standing high up on the Buffalo Jump, looking across the cliff face, thinking of how humans have been here for thousands of years. Thinking about how the Blackfoot First Nations have essentially seen all of human history unfold upon this land. And, I’m thinking that I shouldn’t be thinking, I should let go and just BE in this place, let the universe finds it’s way in. Just then, as I’m thinking this last thought, an orange light begins to emerge from behind the horizon. Soon the full moon is exploding into the night sky, so immense as she first appears, illuminating the Old Man River.

It’s curious. I haven’t been paying attention to the moon over the past few days, even though the cycles of the moon are very important to my interest in exploring the ebb and flow of humans/nature. It’s curious that she has caught me off guard.

I’ve been in Blackfoot territory for about a week and a half, and only now, with the moonlight, am I seeing something clearly. Regardless of my newfound ability to honestly let go of control and just ride the wave of coincidence and serendipity, I’ve still been approaching the world from a state of wanting. I WANT! I want access. I want mystical experiences. I want to connect to nature. I want to find answers. I want to grow. I want to learn. I want people to help me. I want to help people. I want, I want, I want.

Throughout Alberta, I’ve been feeling that I’ve missed something central to the land and central to my project. I realized what it was last week while in Pincher Creek. While in Pincher I met a great new friend, Ken Williams, who teaches at the Napi Friendship Centre. Ken immediately understood my project, in fact, better than anyone else has in a very long time. He set up a meeting with Stan Knowlton, a Blackfoot, and soon we were sitting for hours, enjoying Stan’s stories, which resonated deeply within me.

This is when I realized what I had been missing. All through the north I had been collecting input from the Inuvialuit, Gwich’in and the Dene of the Deh Cho. All of a sudden, I had lost contact with the voices of First Nations. I had wanted to connect to Cree & Blackfoot people as I headed south, but found, it just didn’t happen. Finally now, through no act of my own, a door was opening itself up to me.

But as I became aware of the door, I began wanting. For this I apologize. I now stand in a state of humility. I will continue through this door, but I will hold no desire for what rests on the other side. I will receive what I am given, so that one day I may pass it on to others. I come from a place of openness, but not from a place of wanting.

Ken said something in our conversation that has stuck with me since. I’m paraphrasing,

“Often we seek the things we want to fill the hole that rests at our center. To truly understand is to understand that we are already complete, and it’s the seeking and the wanting that enables the emptiness to exist in the first place.”

Peace,
D