1 - The No Face Doll Story

Susanna Suchak (September 25, 2005)

Show the no face dolls to the children and ask them why they think the dolls have no faces. What else do you notice about the dolls? Listen to their answers.

Coax out that each is different, but the same in many ways. Each of them is special in their own way. Tell them that the Iroquois people believe that only the person who loves the doll will know what their face looks like because only love can really see the true beauty of a person.

Share with them that what they love they make beautiful. Ask them to really see others and to smile to let them know that they are really seeing them and watch them become beautiful before their eyes. "Go now in peace".

Meditation - Circularity
by Monette Louise Bebow-Reinard
written: Wednesday, December 03, 2003

SERMON: We love the world into being

I'd like to start by telling you the other No-face doll story?

The Iroquois people have what they call the three sisters, the "sustainers of life". These sisters are called corn, beans, and squash. The Corn Spirit was so thrilled at being one of the sustainers of life that she asked the Creator what more she could do for her people. The Creator said that a beautiful doll could be formed from the husks. The Creator set to work to form the doll. When finished he gave the doll a beautiful face, and sent it to the children of the Iroquois people to play with, and to make them happy.

The doll went from village to village playing with the children and doing whatever she could for the children. Everywhere she went everyone would tell her how beautiful she was, so after a while she became vain, egotistical, full of herself.

The Creator spoke to her and explained that this was not the right kind of behavior, and she agreed not to be this way anymore. The Creator told her that if she continued with the behavior he would punish her, but he would not tell her how he would punish her. She agreed not to act that way again, and things went on as before.

One afternoon she was walking by a creek and she glanced into the water. As she admired herself, she couldn't help thinking how beautiful she was, because indeed she was beautiful. At this time Creator sent a giant screech owl out of the sky and it snatched her reflection from the water.

When she looked again, she had no reflection. This was the punishment the Creator put upon her.

When an Iroquois Mother makes a doll for her child, she tells them the story because she wants them to understand that it is wrong to think they are better then anyone else, and that the Creator has given a special gift to everyone.

Everyone needs a Creation story. All cultures that I have come across, and in my line of work I have had exposure to a great many cultures, have a strong need to explain where they came from, why they are here in this place, and what their purpose/place is in this world. Would you agree?

From that macro level to a more micro vision of the world we all need a Creation myth -- a story that is bigger than life, but uniquely ours. Every child needs to hear over and over and over again its own "creation story". They need to know that they are loved, precious and uniquely special. Because love and loving makes everything precious ? to love something is to really, really see it. And seeing some thing or some one means they really exist.

As an example there is a story from What the Bleep about the Indians and Columbus. It is claimed that they couldn't see the boats carrying Columbus because they had never seen such things before. The very idea of a large ocean vessel carrying armored men, or something resembling men, was inconceivable to them. It took the wise man of their nation or clan, often called the shaman or medicine man who perceived the wakes and ripples emanating from the boats unlike the ripples caused by the breeze. Indeed, perhaps there was no breeze at that moment. And He paused. He pondered. He opened himself to consider beyond the probable, beyond even the possible into the vast potentials beyond his reality. And in that quiet space when he listened and watched in complete absence of judgment -- a gift was given to him from the Universe. He was able to see these ships. This is not to say that he knew then what they were or what they carried, merely he was able to say, "Look!" and to point out these strange vessels. We can imagine him using superlatives and the word for "boat" or "canoe" in the language his people used -- which would have been Arawak. He would not have the word for "ship" because no such thing existed in his frame of reference.

Because he had earned esteem within his community, he had earned the right to be listened to, to be believed to the point that one would give some credence to his claim and then perhaps the strange vessels would come into view. This man, or perhaps it was a woman, that is certainly a strong possibility -- it matters not which way the story goes. This person had a deep and broad knowledge of the community's stories hence he or she could relate this strange vision to other visions from a spiritual perspective. So, perhaps too these ships would relate to some prophecy or vision of long ago elders. To me this story explains the need to keep telling our stories -- the storytelling gives us identity, meaning and connects us to a wider whole that I have come to call community.

It has been said that if you ask an "Indian" a question, you'll get some roundabout answer in the form of a story. I think it wonderfully true. We might do well to do the same. Instead of prescribing or proscribing the right answer, tell a story and let the other person come to their right conclusion. "Ojibway writer Basil Johnston says that the stories too are not to be (taken) literally; there are four degrees in the operation of the mind, and ?listeners are expected to draw their own inferences, conclusions and meanings according to their capacities.'"1

One of my teachers has informed me that everyone must have at least 8 stories in their medicine bag. There are other medicines in that bag and each person's medicine bag is unique -- just like they are. But everyone must have at least 8 stories in their bag.

Without our stories and without the framework that they give to us we have nothing to compare new experiences with and I fear we will miss seeing. We will not see wonderful possibilities or beauteous things or even threats from which we need to prepare to safekeep ourselves.

I have heard it said that if we don't see things, then for us they don't exist. And it brings to mind my Gran Hazel's exclamation, "Well, I never did hear tell!" Which meant that since it didn't exist within her frame of reference then it was an absurd and impossible thing. The very sad reality today is that if we don't see things, we are in extreme danger of losing them. I think the original peoples of this land knew this innately or they knew it because they paused and pondered and listened and observed. Though they too had their busy-ness for they had to work very hard to just stay alive. They did not allow themselves to become sidetracked or distracted with the things that were not really important ? they couldn't have -- or they would be dead, extinct.

Still the stories are told -- they are not, as some would have you believe, evidence of a less-evolved people. They were as sacred and meaningful as any stories written in any of the holy books. So, what are myths? What meaning do those folk-tales those original peoples' stories have for us and for them today? They still speak to today's problems, particularly human weakness.

They still stress the problem which humankind is now laboring with -- human arrogance. There is a rift among the first nation's peoples about whether non-natives "stealing" their stories is appropriation of their culture. True, there is some rawness still -- old wounds still fester. The healing is still going on. But most, in my experience, are honoured when others humbly listen and relate these stories to their own. For we all have myths and creation stories. Even the story of "The Day You Were Born" (hold up the book) is sweet music to our ears. My grown children never tire of hearing that story ? their own personal creation story.

We need to tell those creation stories over and over lest we forget. We need to remember where we came from, why we are here and what our larger purpose is. There are many, many "myths" explaining why we are all here together at this time. These stories or myths are circular like the story of the No Face Doll. There is no moral and there is no quick and dirty solution like in a 30-minute sitcom. The story has many levels and each time you hear it, it will speak to you about something different. That's why folk tales are still around, why they are timeless. They don't give you answers, they make you probe for them because on your journey through life the problems change, but the stories still speak to the solutions.

Like that Arawak wise-person, we need to allow ourselves time, space, quiet reflection and openness to let the stories speak to us.

Storytelling in the oral culture is not a teaching tool so much as it is a practice in which we learn to meditate and to open ourselves to possibilities. We learn to listen and we learn the cadence of language and life. We learn to be open to hear what the Universe speaks to us.

If we do this, we might say, like Chief Leon of the Shenandoah'_Onondaga nation says that, "We must stand together, the four sacred colors of man -- as the one family that we are -- in the interest of peace. Our energy is the combined will of all the people, with the spirit of the natural world. To be of one body, one heart, and one mind."

But I hear you say, that meditation is difficult; you are soooo busy; and it is hard to find the time to learn to meditate properly. However, I think here that you are mistaking meditation for something that has been packaged and sold to you. If we slow down and make a space in our days meditation happens to us. It is a gift from the Universe, or for me a gift of grace from my Creator.

You see, early on an elder taught me that meditation isn't something that you need to learn from a book. The quieting of meditation just comes when given space and place to happen. Everyone one of us has meditated. If you've ever gazed in awe at a breathtaking sunset or an exquisite sunrise. If you've ever stroked a newborn's finger and got lost in the delicate translucence of the skin, the softness, the tiny perfect fingernail -- it's always awesome, even if you've done it many times before. If you've ever just watched raindrops chasing each other down the windowpane and traced their path with your finger -- you were meditating.

One perfect morning this July I went out on the deck and just sat. What I saw put me into a deep meditative state. Lest you think I boast, it is so rare an occurrence that it is crystallized in my memory -- a golden time, a mountain-top experience.

Let me set the scene for you, since you've never been to my backyard and hence cannot imagine what I saw. On our deck there is what is called a pergola. It is actually 4 strong uprights strewn with bird feeders and water dishes and topped with a grid of lattice. Just beside the chair where I sit early in the morning is our wee grandson's swimming pool. That day there was water left in it. On the fence in front of me is a lovely reflection. It is a combination of the light coming through the lattice, the reflection of the water from Owen's pool and the double shadow from a plant from Africa. Now that in itself would be a lovely place to stop, but as meditation does it got me to thinking. I lifted my eyes to the lattice ceiling above me, the openings are perfect small squares, but on the horizontal beams their shape of light has been transformed into diamonds. However, on the fence wall those reflections are perfect circles of soft pink yellow light. So I just pondered on that. From square, to diamond to circle...(pause)

You see what I saw was only reflection -- and strictly speaking I was looking at nothing. Jeff takes pictures of reflection, nothing, that take people's breath away. How can nothing be so beautiful?! Is it silly to even wonder? Ordinary light on the fence, ice reflecting prisms of colour, water saturated with the colour of the sky -- even the colour of the moss or decaying forest litter can fill my heart to bursting. Is that blood memory? Do only the original peoples feel that way?

Many people, some of strong faith believed and still believe that the first peoples "worshipped" the natural world and that put us squarely in the Pagan circle. Many people my age will remember sending money to the pagan babies in the missions, so that we could "save" their souls. But I think what we were doing was supporting the missionaries in the style to which they had become accustomed -- perhaps so that they could punish themselves for being unworthy -- which is patently absurd, but quite believable. You see, the Indians, the Aboriginals, the Mayans, the Aztecs, the many peoples on the African continent, didn't need to be saved. They were never lost. Instead of listening for the similarities in their stories, we tried to impose our stories on them. Or perhaps I should say stories that had been imposed upon us were imposed all along the line to these peoples. And I believe that this happened because we hurried and scurried and raced madly about. Had we given ourselves time and space -- and I believe some did -- we would have discovered that there was no one right story because all the stories could provide us with the answers. All the stories are and were Truth because the listening to them opens us up to hearing the Truth we need to hear at that time.

Storytellers tell stories. They just can't help themselves. And we are all storytellers. The original peoples told stories to help them to understand the meaning of life ? which is for me and for most if not all of them -- that all Creation is connected and interdependent, that everything is one. We didn't so much worship the natural world, and all of creation -- we respected that interdependency and hence paid respect to each part of creation. Because we are all one. What grace to be part of this creation. To know that the air I breathe was breathed out by a majestic tree or one of my ancestors. That is part of my story. Everything goes round and round. Life is a circle, just like the stories.

Think on your 7th principle -- "To affirm and promote respect for the interdependent web of existence of which we are all a part". To me this is the only principle necessary -- it says everything. But I think that the "affirm and promote" is the critical part -- it's the social justice action piece. Because you can say what you believe all the while, but if you don't act what you believe, I'll never believe that you believe and hence, I won't believe.

That's what our stories do. Because if you don't promote -- you will forget. The forgetting is what has placed this Earth and us in such peril. We have forgotten not only to tell our stories, we have forgotten them (period).

In closing I'd like to share some words from Writing for Your Life by Deena Metzger:

My dearest wish for you is that you get lost listening to your stories because it is then that you will find your own meaning. And you will be home! Nya:weh

1 Rajnovich, Grace, Reading Rock Art Interpreting The Indian Rock Paintings Of The Canadian Shield, 1994, Toronto, Natural Heritage/Natural History Inc.