Dear Sacred Places,

Since time immemorial, we, the Pueblo peoples have maintained life ways that were taught and passed down from the ancestors as caregivers and Peace Keepers. Wisdom and strength were taught through Generational Prayers. Prayers that give thanks with songs and dances for the gifts that were bestowed upon the people by our Creator for sustainability. And so Sacred Places, I find myself at a perilous point in time where as an adult human being occupying this earth, I am recognizing responsibility to re-create sustainability. I was born into the Atomic Age, a time of World Wars and as I practice the teachings of the past I have grave concerns. Five years before my birth my people and in my lifetime, have witnessed the release of man-made, highly radioactive materials and toxic chemicals into our land, air and water by a laboratory located in a Sacred Place.

The United States' top-secret military/scientific mission, the "Manhattan Project," was the beginning of this Age. Ironically, the place chosen for this mission was within the aboriginal, ancestral homelands sacred to the Pueblo Peoples. As time passes, knowledge of the true impacts to our environment and all that is living has revealed that the nuclear industry has produced a legacy that reaches all corners of Mother Earth. Several years ago, I was taught that pilgrimages to the top of the sacred peaks would reveal destiny, if you asked. I decided to walk to the top of Tsicomo, our sacred mountain peak, and asked my purpose. The revelation came in the face and stories of my mentor and later, in the words of Albert Einstein: "To the village squares we must carry the facts of atomic energy, from there must come America's voice". "Science has brought forth this danger…that the real problem is in the minds and hearts of men."

This has become my walk. Dear Sacred Places, Our duty as Pueblo Peoples is to take care of these places. I sit across the table from the people who carry on the mission of manufacturing weapons of destruction and try to understand their mind and heart. I have learned about uranium mining, processing and enrichment, man-made plutonium, pit production, weapons manufacturing, testing and deployment, transuranic waste, transportation of nuclear waste, non-proliferation treaties, cleanup of contaminated sites, congressional appropriation of funds, emergency response, Homeland Security, all of this within our Sacred Places.

In the Pueblo world, the tribal leaders are the ones whose decisions ultimately represent the voice of the pueblo. It's important for our tribal leaders to be able to see all aspects of the issues as they arise, in order to make educated decisions on how to deal with them. I assist in sharing the knowledge's that I have learned with our leaders. I created an organization here at Santa Clara. The work is networking and collaborating with many diverse organizations within New Mexico with the common goal of clean up and to hold industries accountable for degradation our land, air and water. In order to keep balance in our daily lives and to continue our cultural life ways, we teach and build outdoor ovens. These ovens or Pantè, the native name, are vital for Pueblo women to provide bread in abundance for Feast Days and other functions of Pueblo life. The art of building with local mud and rocks is a sure way of demonstrating that sustainability was a teaching of the ancestors. We also network and collaborate with the traditional farmers. There is a great need to help protect native seeds against becoming genetically modified or engineered. For the past five years in the springtime, we gather with the farmers to celebrate the seeds, cultivation and community. We bless the seeds and pray with song and dance passed down from the ancestors here within our Sacred Places. We need to protect our life ways of sustainability and it is sad to say that our place has been tainted by the nuclear industry.

Dear Sacred Places, you have been sacred to the ancestors from the beginning of time and you will always be that. I promise to not ever forget you. I will try my best to continue to be your caregiver and Peace Keeper forever.

Mi norte quierido,

You sit beneath the southern-most shadow of the Rocky Mountain where the lights of Denver and Las Vegas shimmer in the distance. You are content to live life in the arid desert and to drink from the mouth of the Rio Grande like warm cafecito in the early morning. You have made me a home among the yucca, Anasazi ruins, penitente moradas and cottonwood bosques. And when you wake up in the morning, the horizon cracks open with the sounds of birds, wind and the heat of a new day. Every day, you give me the chance at making my home a better place to live, to improve on my mistakes and to enjoy every moment. Mi norte, within you I see the shadows of the Sangre de Cristo and Jemez Mountains where your memory stretches back across the expanse of time to an era of sweetgrass and cornmeal prayers. My people brought you domestication, Old World ideals and the Roman-Catholic cross. We lived and died under three soverigns: Spain, Mexico and the United States of America, all the while deep in your embrace. As children, my primitos and I would spend the summer exploring, climbing and swimming in the mountains of Servilleta Plaza, La Madera and Ojo Caliente. I like to think that someday, my grandchildren will share that experience: to feel the warm water of the river on their forehead, the drink the sunlight like Lemonade and to attend to the subtle sounds of the forest.

Northern New Mexico, I don't think I have ever taken the time to tell you how much you mean to me. As a kid, I looked up to you. You gave me the dance: Matachine, Pueblo and the late-night ranchera. You gave me the alabado, Al Hurricane and Logical Nonsense all at once and I was blown away. Somewhere in the back of my memory, I can still hear my great-grandfather playing guitar and singing in the wee hours of the night as I drift off....to.....sleep. In my dream I can see your creations: the deep reds of Abiquiu, the golden hues of Tierra Amarilla, the ivory white of Plaza Blanca and the darkened earth of Black Mesa. And I am flying! In my dreams I am flying in and out of time zones, no layovers. I can peer through gallery walls to see the ghettos of Analco, I can see the electric polls disappear from the panorama of my vision and I see you, mi Norte, young and beautiful.

And now we are in a new place, no? Now your time is filled with economic development, 24 hour casinos and nuclear weapons facilities. They keep you busy with commuter trains and gallery opening but we both know that you own the night. When the sun sets your children come out to play among the spatter of constellations. I can hear the ranas singing the one Blue Ventures song, with La Llorona doing backup vocals! I remember living with you when time did not march forward linearly but intentionally and with style. Careful on your way home, it Super Blitz time and the huras have a quota to keep. Tell my grandparents I miss them and that I'm still working on my degree. Bueno, laters.