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Personalized My Hero Is Jesus Christ 3D All Over Print T-shirt, Hoodie

As far as lion symbolism goes, the Hopis achieved a classic statement of reverence for nature. “The mountain lion,” said Leigh Jenkins, the Hopi cultural preservation officer, “is very sacred to the Hopi. He is a deity, a guardian of the tribe, to whom Hopis look for guidance during certain ceremonies. He is regarded as the strongest and most fearless animal and the greatest of hunters. His name, oha, also refers to the black clays used to decorate particular kinds of prayer sticks. Black represents strength in delivering the prayer sock’s message to the homes of the rain gods.”

Leigh was a short, stocky man with lustrous black hair cut just below the collar of his blue shirt. His office was in Tribal Hall at dusty Kykotsmovi, down in the hot, windowless basement. I went there to ask his help in entering a foreign country. He was the only access for someone like me, an easterner with no contacts in Indian country. I was nervous and sweating in my wool shirt. Once it was land the whites pirated from Indians; now it’s ideas, and on the basis of past experience you can’t blame Natives for being cautious about what they give away. And of all Natives, the Hopis are the most secretive. They believe that knowledge is power. To prevent the draining away of their knowledge and their power, Hopis zealously guard the details of their lives. In the Hopi Museum I was asked to stop taking notes on a display based on a Wall Street Journal article about Louis Tewarima, a famous Hopi athlete. Photographs are prohibited everywhere in Hopi Land.

Hopis are very popular with certain kinds of non Hopis, and such precautions don’t always work. In August 1987 one of the various contingents of New Age believers who gathered around the world for a global horn-in, a harmonic convergence to save the world from destruction, decided to tap the spiritual force of Hopi Land. They neglected to communicate their plans to any Hopis, who ask that visitors stay on main roads. A Hopi farmer out weeding his corn one morning came upon a group of disheveled white people dancing slowly through his field, chanting, beating drums, planting traditional Hopi prayer sticks, and waving feathers. Hopi means “people of peace.” The farmer did not confront the trespassers but called Leigh, whose job is to mediate contact with outsiders.

That was the first story Leigh told me. He was a natural teller of tales. Gruff at first, he slowly loosened up and came to life, smiling, moving his hands in strong descriptive gestures. I could see the billowing scarves of the New Agers and the exasperated shrug of the Hopi farmer. For two hours I sat in Leigh’s office and listened to his stories. I had not expected such generosity. Through his stories, he invited me into his world. He opened a window into a different way of thinking and put mountain lions into a rich and living context of ideas. I responded in the most polite way I knew, by listening intently and gazing at the glowing computer screen, the laser jet printer, the framed certificate of appreciation from Harvard Medical School, the piled-up desk, the pictures of his children on shelves crowded with books on Indian art and history –in short, by resting my eyes on everything except Leigh’s face. Indians consider it rude and confrontative to stare eye to eye.

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