San Geronimo Feast Day

We're gearing up for the San Geronimo Feast Day in Taos this weekend.  For those who have no idea what I'm talking about here is a little history of the day from La Plaza:

  

"San Geronimo Day is of great importance to the Pueblo. Named after St. Jerome, the patron saint of the Pueblo, it was originally a fall trading festival at which neighboring tribes would gather. After Spanish colonization San Geronimo Day was institutionalized. It incorporated the original rituals with those of the church. Among the ceremonies that have always been a part of San Geronimo Day are the morning races along the race course in front of the north building, and the afternoon pole climb. Running has always carried great religious significance at Taos Pueblo."  

[Robert here:  If you know me, or have read my blog, you know how important running is to me and you definitely know of my love/hate relationship with it.] 

"For the Indians of Taos Pueblo, life has been a continuing struggle against external forces which have come into Taos. As with all Pueblo tribes, Taos Pueblo was agrarian, and was raided by nomadic Indians such as the Navajos and Apaches. Later, Spanish Conquistadores and settlers, French traders and trappers, and finally, American settlers exerted their influence on the tribe."

[Robert here:  Just making sure you're still paying attention. Awesome family pictures below.]

"Although the interaction between the Spanish colonists and the Indian pueblos was often one of conflict, the early Spanish settlers and Pueblo Indians were also allies against attack by marauding plains Indians. The people of Taos Pueblo have miraculously survived all outside influences and have still retained their essence. Taos Pueblo maintains its tribal sovereignty through the Tribal Governor's office, which consists of the Governor, Lieutenant Governor Secretary and Tribal Council. The tribal war Chief and his council are responsible for all of the tribe's lands outside of the walls of the main village, while the Central Management System is the liaison with the Bureau of Indian Affairs and answers to the tribal governor and council. Some members of the tribe work in Taos, others work for tribal programs, and others are employed through the considerable tourism economy of the tribe. Taos Pueblo is famous for its drums and micaceous pottery. In addition, modern art forms have evolved from the traditional ones, including sculpture in clay and alabaster, and painting."

[Robert here: And, of course, I'm also a contributor to that "art form" at my Pueblo shop and Mirabal.com working out of my Grandma's old house which I blogged about last week.]

"The Indians of Taos Pueblo remain fiercely independent of spirit and mind. They continue to speak Tiwa, which is still an unwritten language, and strive to maintain a balance between their traditional way of life and the modern world."

[Robert here:  Why yes, yes we do.]

Sept 29th & 30th - SAN GERONIMO FEAST DAY: Arts & Crafts fair, evening vespers, traditional foot race, traditional pole climb. Sept 29th - Noon; Sept 30th - 8:00am - evening.

Love,

Mirabal

The Pueblo Shop (Grandma Crucita R. Mirabal's Old House)

As long as I can remember Taos Pueblo has always had curio shops for tribal members to sell their handmade items to the seekers, otherwise known as "touristas." Most of the shops are owned by the individual families and I have been pretty lucky to have inherited a traditional home that is on the outskirts of the main plaza - it's all about location, location, location, eh?

My grandmother, Crucita Mirabal, was a powerful, clever woman.  She made and sold different handmade items; dyed corn, squash seed necklaces, postcards, and other little trinkets in front of her home.  Some days she made the traditional oven bread and prune pies and the Texans loved them. (The blue ugly balloon-looking tarp to the right in the video below is covering one of the traditional ovens.)

The Mirabal shop located on the northwest corner of Taos Pueblo

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My great-grandmother was the last family member to have lived in this location where she raised her kids. As a young boy I took care of this house; shoveling snow off its roof and, in the fall, replastering the mud walls getting ready for the winter. It used to be connected to the house on the right side of it and it was used for corn and various dry storage. I took care of this property because it was my Grandma's and she gave it to me because she felt I was the only one taking care of her in the past.

In 1993, I opened the Pueblo shop/home to sell my flutes, cassettes, and a few other items that I, and other family members, were making. As the years passed, and more tourists started to venture into the Pueblo, we changed the shop to accommodate their needs. We now have more flutes, more CDs, jewelry, books, pottery, and miscellaneous native gifts that the visitors wanted.

In 2010, the shop changed one more time to accommodate, not just the tourist, but myself and the way I am living today. I do not play any of my CDs from the battery powered boombox anymore, nor do we have the old "Robert Mirabal"vibe happening. The old shop felt like a shrine to Robert Mirabal (Oooooooh UGH!)  I had a very hard time connecting myself to it when it was all me, however, now with my new farming and sculpting endeavors, it feels good.

In 2009 I started creating amulets, sculptures, and new styled flutes.  We also decided to carry supplies; hides, skins, furs, and moccasin making materials for the Pueblo people who make handmade items. It's now kind of like a mercantile.

The old photos of my ancestors on the wall remind me every day of my duties as a Puebloan man, as well as a father, and that I need to be a true humble artist. I enjoy being in the Pueblo shop now and meeting the visitors that come from afar, and those that are near, to exchange stories, to teach, and to learn.




The Pueblo shop - Yellow Aspen Cloud Productions and/or Mirabal Native Gifts is open every day from 9am to 4pm. If the Pueblo shop is closed, you can always visit the online shop for any of my work at www.mirabal.com - that shop is always open!

Trail Running and Other Insane Notions. . .

Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up.
It knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed.

Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up.
It knows that it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve.

It doesn't matter whether you're a lion or a gazelle
when the sun comes up you'd better be running.

Yeah, yeah. Whatever, more like sloths, heehee. . . run with me.

 

  "The only reason I take up jogging is so that I can hear heavy breathing every morning."  Badum-ching. Ooooh.

"Running is real and relatively simple. . . but it ain't easy, and you're pretty much as dumb as a weed blowing in the wind."

 "Now if you are going to win any battle you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. Never let the body tell the mind what to do. The body will always give up. It is always tired - morning, noon, and night. But the body is never tired if the mind is not tired. When you were younger the mind could make you dance all night, and the body would never tire. You've got to make the mind take over and keep going." Patton said this, but personally I think drinking tequila has about the same effect.

"No doubt a brain and some shoes are essential for running success, although if it comes down to a choice, pick the shoes. More people finish marathons with no brains than with no shoes."

Okay, so now you know some of the weirdness a trail runner goes through, or at least now you know some wierd quotes.  I hate running and I love it; I hate being stiff the next day, yet I love it so, so much.  

We runners are a breed apart; part monkey, part Bigfoot, part wild boar, and part Indian.  Running has kept me sane and relatively insane for all these years.  Anyway, have fun at least being in the woods.

Love,

Mirabal

Back Home: Home Is Where The Weeds Are

I just got back home and wandered around the places that seemed familiar in my mind.  However, there are weeds in the garden, weeds in the bean fields, weeds around the house; everything has become overgrown.  I guess the gardener hasn't been around.  Ugh.  Can't get help today (ha ha - wish I had a gardener) . . .

Coming home is a state of mind.

You either feel amazed or overwhelmed and whichever way you look at the scene it can become sad or you can feel lost. I usually go into feeling lost.  I seem to get lost in my past, recollecting times when I have been gone many, many months.

This time wasn't so bad but it has been a little over a month since I went to New York and began Po'Pay performances. Of course this has been during peak growing season for corn and the like, including weeds and willows that sprout up even in the deepest drought.  Since Po'Pay started it has rained in Santa Fe and in Taos almost every day so that means weeding the garden at least once a week.  So. . . I'm about four weeks behind. Ugh, we shall see what I get this year in terms of a harvest.

Musings on the Status of Things:

• My red beans are doing great.  Some watermelon are doing very good at 7,000 ft. elevation (I am a bad ass; surprised for sure).  However, the corn is in a sad state-of-affairs, though this year's crops were for seed cultivation, so whatever I get will be a success.  I will keep you informed as to the status of the harvest.

• There have been many, many bear sightings around the perimeter of the Pueblo since we were in such a fierce drought this year.  No rain means very few berries, plums, etc.. for them to forage on and so they have wreaked havoc on fields near, and or around, the river basin, Bears aren't too friendly when they're hungry (neither am I, for that matter.)

• The Pueblo is the Pueblo.  I went across to my Mom's to see the village but not much has changed in over 1,000 years, let alone during my four weeks away.  I'm not expecting it to have an instant makeover.  There was a funeral today so the Pueblo is closed.  The rain does fierce damage to adobe houses if the roofs aren't kept up.  It's sad how many houses I knew as a boy are slowly becoming piles of rubble.  But that's a story for another time.

Everything has changed in my mind and that's what happens when you come home after a tour.  You see people and places and they seem to stay the same.  People living their lives and you just press "play" and things go forward.  You can really see how easily a few months can seem like two days. The same cop is at the same old corner; the same dog sniffs the same old roadkill; the same complaining; the same guys are at the same old bar laughing at the same old joke.

In more pressing news, I have two new white hairs and I'm damn proud of them.  I live life the way I want.  I sacrifice daily my heart, and push my body into magic that is so unbelievable.  My mind wanders and gives in a hundred times a day to my thousand ideas. I can't live any other way.  Sad at times, however, beautiful most of the times.

One day is not enough so live life as strong and magical as you can.  Everyone can kiss your ass when they see you walking out into the world feeling free and never looking back. Never rewind, always look straight ahead.

Thank you for all those of you that have loved me all these years and I hope I can touch some of you soon.

Welcome home my little baby soul.

Love,
Mirabal