Late Shift Collaborative

(Quick content warning – this post talks about self-harm)

For one of my classes in Social Work school last semester, I wrote a literature review about culturally tailored therapy interventions for indigenous clients. That’s not what this post is about because there are way better people than me to write about that, but I found an article in that research that really stuck with me. It is worth a read because it’s very interesting and pretty funny. Dr. Gone has a sharp wit in addition to his deep scholarly work on the subject. Here is the full text [https://gonetowar.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/tx_paradigms.pdf]

Dr. Gone, asked the question in this article, “if y’all are recommending culturally-tailored interventions for your Native American clients, what, exactly, are you talking about?” He then identifies two indigenous healers, Eduardo Duran and Bull Lodge, to develop a framework for understanding what effective culturally-tailored interventions might look like. Eduardo Duran is a contemporary substance use counselor in the southwest, and my Libby hold just came through for one of his books, so there will likely be a Book Talk post soon for him. Bull Lodge is a historical healer from the Gros Ventre people who lived all across the northern plains and whose modern reservation is in Montana.

The purpose of this post is to jot down some thoughts about the exploration of Bull Lodge because they feel important to me as a therapist, and I am trying to figure out why. Bull Lodge climbs to the top of a mountain and sacrifices strips of flesh to earn his healing gifts. I wonder if I have sacrificed enough to earn my place as a healer. I also wonder if the appeal of cutting strips of flesh to me has nothing to do with indigenous spiritual humility and more to do with the Western wellness grind culture that I live in. And I wonder how all of this relates to my personal creed adopted from Mary Oliver “You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.”  I wonder why it’s the image of cutting flesh that sticks in my mind rather than the imagery of spiritual humility or appropriate timing that are also present in the story.

Bull Lodge’s healing powers were gifts from more powerful beings. He received those gifts by fasting, sacrificing his flesh, and waiting until the appropriate time to use those gifts.

…at the age of 17, [Bull Lodge] was instructed to begin his fasts, the initial one to endure for 7 days and nights with each additional fast requiring one day less respectively until the sequence was completed. During these solitary fasts atop high mountains, Bull Lodge abstained from all food, water, and human company. On the first of these fasts, Bull Lodge cut off the end joint of his little finger in sacrifice to Those Above. In four other fasts, he sacrificed strips of flesh cut from his chest, arms, and thighs. Each time, Bull Lodge cried and prayed and concentrated on his wish to become “a great man among his people.” And, each time, the other-than-human Mountain persons appeared to Bull Lodge, commended him for his tenacity and sincerity, and expressed their pity by sharing with him ritual knowledge for uncommon prowess in war and doctoring. Much of this knowledge pertained in some way to Bha-ah, the Thunderbird, who was associated with rainstorms, lightning, and the westerly direction and who originally gifted the Feathered Pipe to the Gros Ventres. The knowledge obtained by Bull Lodge during these sojourns was to be exercised only at subsequent points in his life following designated precipitating events. For example, he did not lead his first war party until instructed to do so at the age of 30, and he did not doctor until, at the age of 40 and in the face of his uncle’s suffering, he could “hold himself” no longer. (Gone 179)

If you are like me, reading this passage, you admire Bull Lodge for his commitment and faith and wonder if you measure up. And is wondering if we measure up a reflection of some universal idea of sacrifice to earn spiritual gifts or a reflection of a modern Western idea of grind culture that I am mapping onto this story?  

I talked to a close friend who suggested Lookout Mountain for a place to cut flesh (ha ha Thom). I talked to my own therapist who suggested that my own therapeutic process was my sacrifice, that I can offer help to others because I have done the work myself. I talked to my mom who pointed out that my law career and all of the difficult experiences of my 20s and 30s give me the perspective I need to help others. I talked to another friend who said the point is not the flesh but the display of faith and “walking the walk.” This last one sounds the hardest to me so is likely true. I walk the Mary Oliver walk about a quarter of the time. I “pay attention, be astonished, tell about it,” when I am my best self. I worry, dissociate, self-deprecate, complain, and waste time the rest of the time. 

While I don’t think Dr. Gone’s analysis is really for me, and I won’t pretend that I can earn or aspire to the Gros Ventre healing gifts, the messages —  that a spiritual element is necessary and perhaps central to therapy, that a therapist must be spiritually humble, that therapy has inherent risk, and that therapy must be undertaken with a pure heart and at the appropriate time by the therapist – resonate with me. 

I will certainly keep thinking about these themes of sacrifice, legitimacy, humility, intention, and commitment in my own practice. I am grateful to Dr. Gone for his wonderful article – both for its exploration of culturally-tailored interventions which were not discussed here and for its guidance to therapists and healers in general.