When the tree flowered

by John G. Neihardt

“And since that time these peoples have not fought.”

XV
The Sun Dance

“I think Wakon Tonka knows we are going to remember my first sun dance today,” said Eagle Voice with the crinkled look of amusement about his eyes. “You see the sun is shining again this morning; the wind is still and the edge of the air is like a dull knife. There will be a little melting on the day sides of the hills before night.”

It was truly a beautiful winter morning, and I had noted a light breath from the southwest. The tepee was cozy, the pipe had been passed, and I waited. After a long silence, the old man began speaking again in a low voice, looking towards me with a long-focused gaze as though I were transparent or not there at all. “She was a pretty girl,” he said with seeming irrelevance. “Tashina Wanblee. Her name is like singing when I remember now, far-away singing. When I was riding around the village with the Crow scalp on my coup-stick after we got back with all those horses, I saw her. She was pushing through the tight ring of people to get closer, and she was right under me looking up. I know now that she was very pretty, for she was still both girl and woman. Her face was all shining and she was singing to me. I cannot say what look was in her eyes. I think I did not see the look clearly until I was older and my eyes were getting tired of all I had seen instead. I saw that she was very proud of me because I had become a great warrior, and that made my heart leap. We had played together, and then I was only her horse; but now I was a man at last, high above her, and all the people were praising me. So I made my horse rear and plunge. I did not see her again until I was dancing the sun dance.

“It is the sun dance we are going to remember now.

“When cherry seeds begin to harden, the sun is like a strong man just past his youth and not yet growing old. It is then that the sun is highest in the sky and his power is the greatest. There he stands a little while before he starts back towards the winter again. That is the time for all the people to come together and dance his sacred dance, that his power may be theirs and their hearts may be strengthened for the road of difficulties ahead. Maybe the people have been wandering in small bands, living in little hoops by themselves. Maybe some of them have almost forgotten the power of the great hoop to shield and make them strong. And maybe even in the little hoops some people are so proud they begin to forget that by themselves they are nothing. It is good for them to feel the sacred power of the great hoop again, for it is the power of Wakon Tonka. And at the center of that hoop the Sacred Tree shall grow and spread above them all and fill with leaves and bloom and singing birds. It is a time of happiness for all the people; for it is then that relatives, from far places maybe, see each other again and tell all that has happened. And there is feasting; and the old men and women remember, and the little boys and the youths look and listen, thinking of the great deeds they are going to do. And under many a lover’s blanket the girls hear whispered words that make their hearts like birds singing in their breasts.

“It is a happy time; but also it is a time to suffer and endure, for pain is wise to teach and without courage there is nothing good.

“It was the time of hardening cherry seeds when we got back with all those Crow horses and the scalp. Already a wide flat place by a creek was chosen for the sun dance, and the sacred societies were building a big round enclosure for the ceremony. They cut poles and placed them in the ground; and over these, other poles were placed, and on these poles leafy branches were laid to make a circular shade where the people would sit and watch. And around the outside of this big circle of shade, tepee skins would be hung to make an enclosure for the holy place. Inside this circle was the bare flat dancing ground, open to the strong sun; and in the center of this, the sacred tree would stand. They stopped working a little while when we came back, but when the victory dance was over, they went on with the work of getting ready.

“While they were doing this, four old men came to our tepee early in the morning, and one of them was Chagla, Kicking Bear’s father-in-law and also a relative to me, but not a very close one. He was owankara that year, the one who prepares the dance for the people. It is a great honor, like a victory, to do that. Chagla had a pipe with him, and when he entered our tepee with the three other old men behind him, he held the pipe in front of him with both hands, the mouthpiece forward. I knew what they had come for, and all at once I was afraid and wanted to run away. When we were driving all those horses away from the Crow village in the night, my heart sang and I was not afraid. Now I wanted to run away; but I was ashamed of being afraid, so I waited.

“The four old men sat down, and when my mother had given them something to eat and they had eaten, Chagla began to talk about the sun dance. It was a great thing to be young and brave and to go forth into enemy country to do great deeds or to die. But the heart may be strong to do that because it is proud and hungry for praise.