Rattling at the Rio Grande Gorge by Justine Willis Toms On March 8th, Ash Wednesday I serendipitously found myself at a service of the Catholic Church, San Francisco De Asis at Ranchos De Taos, New Mexico (it's the one that is so photographed and painted, and made popular by the artist, Georgia O'Keefe). It is a large sand colored adobe structure with two bell towers set on the front two corners. The structure is round and voluptuous, all curves, no sharp angles. The large doors are indented and painted white. I must admit, I thought that I was there just to see this famous landmark. I had forgotten that it was the first day of Lent, Ash Wednesday. I had not thought much about this day in years. I had grown up Episcopalian so I did have a history with this day. But I wasn't thinking about it even though I noticed an unusual number of cars and trucks parked every which way around the square. I just went about my task of taking pictures of the church. Then a women and a small girl went inside and I felt a strong urge to follow them. When I got inside I found the church was full of people. I was in the middle of the Lenten ceremony of smudging ashes on the forehead that signifies, for some Christians, the beginning of penance and fasting in remembrance of Christ and his sacrifice. I sat in the back pew and listened to the children's choir. I picked up a brochure on pilgrimages, because that is what I've been on for the past two months in this high desert country. As I sat there looking at the various icons around the walls and feeling the presence of the divine, I remembered that this was a church named after St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals. The entire service took on a new meaning for me. Because I wasn't Catholic, I didn't feel at ease to take ashes from the priest. I do not feel the need for such a representative between me and the great mystery. But I did feel related to the ritual. So after leaving the church I took my drum and rattle and went to the Rio Grande Gorge where it is more than 650 feet deep. I smudged myself with ashes with a prayer for all the animals and plants and all livingness on this special jewel of a planet. I played my drum and rattled my rattle . . . . . . This high desert is so fragile and all the creatures that survive in it are in terrible jeopardy by the shortsightedness of humankind. In performing this ritual I could feel my life as if moving up a spiral, it was the same ritual, but a different Justine. I was not thinking so much of the sacrifice of Christ as I was the sacrifice of all the living creatures on the earth who have no choice but to be driven from their habitat by humans. I was sad, but not discouraged. We CAN learn new, old ways. These ways are alive and well here with many of the native peoples. My husband Michael and I once asked poet and lover of nature, Gary Snyder, what is the best advice you can give for those of us who want to make a difference on the planet for all the ecology. He said to get to know your watershed and get involved. There are watershed councils all over the U.S. You will find it very interesting because all sorts of people are active in these councils; environmentalist, developers, farmers, loggers, biologists, hunters, people who fish, campers. In other words, all our neighbors in all their diversity. It is important that each of our voices are heard in the protection of our own watersheds. Be active, be heard.