The Same River

by Lisa M. Reddick

  “You are back” was all he said. As he embraced her, she inhaled the scent of his cedar clothing and of the smoke from the evening fires in his long, heavy hair.

  “I am and I am not,” Piah responded, and he looked into her eyes.

  “Medicine is coming from you, and you chose to come back. You have returned from a great distance, and we will create a ceremony to welcome you. A great part of you was lost with your daughter, your sister, and the many who have died from the fire disease. But for now the disease has released us, because you were able to put Libah’s body in the river and gave yourself to the mourning, the necessary pain that you must go through to heal.”

  The next morning, they all gathered in the ceremonial shelter in the center of camp. Piah’s father was wearing Raven’s mask and began his drumming, calling their people to the ceremony that would bring Piah back and welcome her as their medicine woman.

  Piah felt tendrils of power, like tree roots, flowing beneath her feet. The circle of the cedars around her seemed to sway along with her father’s drumming. As she stepped into the circle, she felt her body blending with the tree roots, like the rivers and streams flowing down the canyons and mountains all around her. They were the rivers and mountains of her time and of the future.

  Her father began to dance, and Piah sat down and let the medicine flow through her and into the bodies of the people around her. The vision of the woven circle unfolding came back to her, and she knew that what she was being given was for what was coming, though for what and whom, she didn’t know. She felt the presence of Libah flying high above her, and the tear in her heart ached, but she let her go. She knew that Libah was the one to carry the knowledge and wisdom into a time that Piah could not be part of.

  As the drumming slowed, Piah’s father, as the spirit of Raven, spoke to her: “You were born as a child into this time, and children will keep being born into their time like the melting snow of the high mountains flows down the mountain streams into the Nesika. Along the banks and in the body of this river, many people will be given lessons, visions, and the power to bring clarity through the wounds of their bones and hearts. Your sacrifice has given our people hope and healing. The wisdom of this sacrifice will ring down through the many twisted ladders of generations to come. I can see you, Piah, and I can see that others will, too.”

  The drums grew louder, and Piah’s father/Raven danced again, and the howling that rang from his heart stirred in her a strength from the pain of her scars, and off in the distance the cadence of the Nesika moved in time with their drums. Piah closed her eyes and saw a kind of opening, like the mouth of a cave, where the young, bleeding woman from her vision was standing. Piah felt a stirring in her womb and let the spirit of Libah fly toward that light.

  JESS

  Jess bent down slowly to open her mailbox, her eight-months-pregnant belly preventing her from getting around easily. Carrying the weight of her growing girl on her small frame was making this last trimester of her pregnancy difficult. She went to the mailbox each day looking for the copy of the decision made by the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals that Kathryn had sent to her. Judge Martha Baston had ruled that there was enough evidence to create a judicial order to remove the Green Springs dam on the Nesika River. The actions taken by PowerCorp and the Forest Service had been “arbitrary and capricious.”

  Today it was there, a large manila envelope with an official-looking return address. Jeff had gone up with Miko to help Martin ground-truth another renegade timber sale. She wished he were here to look at this document with her, and thought for a moment about waiting for him. No way. She took the mail back into the house, poured a glass of water, and sat in the warm sun next to the window overlooking her fall garden.

  That spring, after the wedding at Lemolo Falls, Jeff and Jess had had a large reception at their house. They had completely redesigned the back garden, clearing old brush and layering the yard in raised beds. They had decided to get married on May 30, which was Monica’s birthday. They wanted to include her memory and presence in their life together.

  The wedding had been colorful and dreamlike. Jess’s mom had designed a bright blue, green, and gold banner with symbols of the river: salmon and bright spirals. It had flown like a flag in the mist and breeze of the falls, and Jess now imagined it flying over the dam at the ceremony when the deconstruction would begin and the Nesika would be freed.

  Now the banner played in the wind just above the spent raspberries. She had gotten pregnant quickly, before the wedding, and they had been able to keep it a secret until they had come home from their brief honeymoon on the Oregon coast.

  Jess lowered herself carefully into a soft backyard chair. She loved that the sun was out, and for late January the day was bright and warm. She opened the envelope and took out the document. Kathryn had said it was long for a decision of this type, which was a good sign that the judge had taken the details of the case into careful consideration. Because she had done such a thorough job of writing the decision, there would be less of a chance for a successful appeal.

  Closing her eyes, Jess held the paper in her hands and felt her pulse in her head and a slight shiver in the right side of her face. It had been two years and three months since the mountain lion had attacked her. She felt a chill and moved her chair into the sun again, looking down at the document in her lap, noticing how near her baby it was.

  The phone rang loudly from the living room, and she stood up and went into the house to answer it. It was Suzie’s number, and she let her answering machine pick up. Jess had never reconnected with her; there was too much history there, and Jess had the reserves to tend only the relationships in her life that supported her and kept her grounded and moving forward in her work. Jess was glad, though, that Martin had assured her Suzie was okay, living in Eugene with those kids.

  Lying down on the couch, Jess read the cover letter from Kathryn:

  Dear Jess,

  Yay! This is such good news, and we couldn’t have done it without you and Water Walkers. I know this must be a dream come true for you. And we all know that the likelihood that the dam would ever come out, according to PowerCorp, was so small it couldn’t even be comprehended. With their stable of high-priced corporate lawyers, they claimed there wouldn’t be a judge on Earth who would rule in our favor. I’m so glad we were able to take the position we did. You were right—by giving the judge the whole picture of how important the Nesika is, how important all of life is, from a kind and compassionate perspective, we were able to show the judge how simple her decision could be. Thank you so much, Jess. I have learned a lot from you and this case. It has been an honor to work with you.

  Sincerely,

  Kathryn

  Jess looked up from the letter at the wedding pictures on her desk: Jeff and she, standing in front of Lemolo Falls; her mom, Uncle Robert, and Martin, smiling and happy while the mist from the falls dampened their hair and blew like a cloud around them; and Miko, of course, looking handsome and regal, his round black bear face smiling into the camera. She smiled. Then, holding the letter and the decision on her pregnant belly, she closed her eyes.

  Her baby stirred, and Jess put her hand protectively on the moving foot or elbow. She rode the slide-like feeling into sleep. Just as she was beginning to let go, she felt a jolt and found herself standing on the bank of the Nesika, in the same place she had been attacked. It was earlier in the day, and the river was moving quickly, and Jess noticed that the Green Springs dam was gone. Salmon splashed and pushed through the shallows, spawning fiercely, the water a blur of silver bodies moving up- and downstream. Jess wondered for a moment what kind of time she was in. She felt a tingling as she recognized that she wasn’t dreaming, at least not the kind of dreaming that was familiar to her. She reached down and felt that her belly was flat—but she knew Libah was fine.

  She heard a sound and looked across the water. She spotted a woman lying naked in the mud. She didn’t seem to need help; she just needed to be seen.
The woman stood and looked across at Jess. Jess could see a dark blue line running from the woman’s chin down to her chest, and three other dark, wide line marks on her chin. She was grieving; Jess could feel the woman’s searing pain run through her own body. She was grieving the loss of her child.

  Jess realized that she was seeing a Molalla woman who had lived in the high mountain canyons of the Nesika River Valley more than two hundred years earlier. She saw the spirit of a baby girl hovering over the woman, and then the blue light of the river took her downstream. The woman cried loudly, and the spawning salmon seemed to shift in response. Jess watched her, wanted to help her, but she couldn’t move from her place. The woman started walking away from the river and turned suddenly. The sound of the Nesika grew louder and louder, drawing the women’s attention to the current, and for a moment the salmon disappeared and the water changed as the dam rose up and then came down. Then, in a breath, the salmon returned and continued spawning in the shallows.

  The two women looked at each other for a moment more, a shared recognition of kinship with the river binding them to each other. Another young woman appeared; this one looked like Monica, but older. Jess’s heart leaped, and she wanted to call out to her. The young woman looked up and smiled. Jess recognized a kind playfulness that she had known in her younger sister, but she was tending the Molalla woman, too. Jess knew that this was Monica and someone else, a sister to the Molalla woman. The sister and the river were bound to each other; Jess could see the river’s blue spirit light winding around the sister like a fast-growing vine, then meandering around both Jess and the Molalla woman. The sister lay down in the current, as if she were resting, and disappeared, and Jess knew that this loss, this sacrifice, was the opening. The Molalla woman tossed something high into the air, and Jess caught it. It was a small beaded necklace. For Libah, Jess heard a singing voice from across time saying to her.

  This was the same river, the same current, that both women loved. Jess stayed for a moment after the woman climbed up the cliff to the place where the stone piles were. She heard a sudden sound in the bushes behind her. A large mountain lion walked up to her. A female, Jess knew. She brushed near Jess’s leg and stayed for a moment, before stalking down to the river’s edge to take from the abundant run of salmon.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  In order to tell this story, I had many mentors, supporters, critics, and powerful guides along my way. I will never forget the first day that I started to write this book when I was having a hard time beginning and my husband, Robert Atkins, encouraged me to “just play.” His constant confidence in me and my work, and his support and love, imbue each page of this book. I also want to express my deep gratitude to my doctoral committee Joe Meeker, Sarah Conn, Betsy Geist, Susan Morgan, and the late Patricia Monaghan. They cheered each draft and kept me going to the finish line of my PhD.

  I am grateful to my first editor Ellen Parker, who after reading my first draft declared that I had indeed “written a book.” Since then I have had many supporters and guides cheering and aiding me along this path, including my next marvelous, talented, and awesome editor Gail Hudson from Girl Friday Productions and the tenacious, brilliant editor from She Writes Press, Annie Tucker, who helped me write a book worthy of this story.

  And, my lovely, talented daughter, Emma—this book is for you and your generation. My hope is that it can serve as a guide on how to embrace your wildness, and the strength to find the way through and share that with others.

  I found inspiration from my lifelong awe for the deep-green meandering North Umpqua River that winds through my heart, soul, and mind in so many ways. And for my family that lived on the banks of that river, my mom, dad, and our beloved Robin who lost her life in that river when she was eleven. This book is for you, dear, for your flash of brightness in our lives and for gracing us all with the power of this story.

  I also want to acknowledge the Molalla people who lived up on the upper reaches of the North Umpqua and serve to inspire the character of Piah and her people. This fictional account is a rendering of a much more complex and deeply rich hidden story of the people who lived there before any contact with the white Euro-American settlers. The stories of Piah are based on my research for my PhD. Even though there isn’t much directly known about them, the Molalla live on in the hearts of their descendants, in the flash and whorl of the currents of this river—and in the folds of the canyons of the Cascade Mountains where the wildness that we crave lives in the darkest fissures of what we have lost and strive to remember.

  Also, I thank the stalwart group of intrepid explorers who helped forge the creation of ecopsychology—Mary Gomes, Allen Kanner, the late Theodore Roszak and Dolores LaChappelle whose echoing “Go Deeper” rings through my mind like a mantra.

  Finally, I recognize the constant companionship of my dear dogs that have been by my side throughout this process—Bentley, and Brook; your love shines through my life every day and inspires the many moments in this book in the character of Miko. He is all of you. And, to my dog training friends and family—so many times I would glean strength from our time together, from the experiences of connection, reflection, and accomplishments of training and staying committed to playing the game and taking what I love seriously.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Author photo © Lara Grauer Photography

  Lisa M. Reddick has lived in loved and written about the Pacific Northwest most of her life. Her personal essay “The River” was published in the anthology Landscapes of the Heart: Narratives of Nature and Self. She is working on her next novel Burning Wisdom, which is a continuation of The Same River focusing on the issues of climate change. She currently lives in Edmonds Washington with her husband and two fabulous Australian Shepherds.

  SELECTED TITLES FROM SHE WRITES PRESS

  She Writes Press is an independent publishing company founded to serve women writers everywhere. Visit us at www.shewritespress.com.

  The Black Velvet Coat by Jill G. Hall. $16.95, 978-1-63152-009-9. When the current owner of a black velvet coat—a San Francisco artist in search of inspiration—and the original owner, a 1960s heiress who fled her affluent life fifty years earlier, cross paths, their lives are forever changed . . . for the better.

  Arboria Park by Kate Tyler Wall. $16.95, 978-1631521676. Stacy Halloran’s life has always been centered around her beloved neighborhood, a 1950s-era housing development called Arboria Park—so when a massive highway project threaten the Park in the 2000s, she steps up to the task of trying to save it.

  A Drop In The Ocean: A Novel by Jenni Ogden. $16.95, 978-1-63152-026-6. When middle-aged Anna Fergusson’s research lab is abruptly closed, she flees Boston to an island on Australia’s Great Barrier Reef—where, amongst the seabirds, nesting turtles, and eccentric islanders, she finds a family and learns some bittersweet lessons about love.

  Anchor Out by Barbara Sapienza. $16.95, 978-1631521652. Quirky Frances Pia was a feminist Catholic nun, artist, and beloved sister and mother until she fell from grace—but now, done nursing her aching mood swings offshore in a thirty-foot sailboat, she is ready to paint her way toward forgiveness.

  The Lucidity Project by Abbey Campbell Cook. $16.95, 978-1-63152-032-7. After suffering from depression all her life, twenty-five-year-old Max Dorigan joins a mysterious research project on a Caribbean island, where she’s introduced to the magical and healing world of lucid dreaming.

  To the Stars Through Difficulties by Romalyn Tilghman. $16.95, 978-1631522338. A contemporary story of three women very different women who join forces in a small Kansas town to create a library and arts center—changing their world, and finding their own voices, powers, and self-esteem, in the process.

 

 

 
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