Cherokee Wedding


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A Traditional Native American Wedding By JimPathFinder Ewing (Nvnehi Awatisgi) On Oct. 15, Annette Zimmerman Wells of Miami, Fla., and I were married in a traditional Native American Ceremony at the Manataka American Indian Council Fall Gathering in Hot Springs, Ark. To be perfectly honest, at age 52, and having been divorced for more than 7 years from a 16-year marriage, I never thought I would get married again, and it certainly didn’t seem that marriage was in the cards for me. A little story. . . . Some time ago, I needed a ceremonial fan – a feather fan used in various Native ceremonies – and so I contacted a Nativewoman who is good at such things. I had a girlfriend at the time, and so I also ordered one for her, as a present. But time went by and the fans never came. After my girlfriend and I broke up, a box arrived; it was the two fans. The one for me was perfect, better than imagined; but the one had ordered for her "looked" nothing like her – wrong colors, totems, etc. So, I wrote and asked what I should do with it. "Hold on to it," she wrote back. "You two weren’t meant to be together. Spirit told me. But there's someone who will come into your life soon and she will be the right one. I made this fan for her." Time went by, and it seemed that there was no "one." I even tried to give the fan to a friend. She took it in her hands, looked at it, got a far away look in her eyes and said, "This is very beautiful. But it doesn’t belong to me," and gave it back. I was somewhat astonished. Eventually, I put it in a shoebox in the bottom of my bedroom closet, and forgot about it. Annette and I met through Manataka, where we are both members. We immediately "clicked." I have a rather odd sense of humor. When I tell a joke, no one laughs. I have to explain the joke. Then, they sort of half laugh. So, I quit telling jokes. The first thing I noticed about Annette was that she laughed at my jokes. Not only that, but she would top them; so we would end up just going back and forth, keeping each other in stitches – and no one had a clue what we were laughing at. Being a professor of art at Miami Dade College, she’s exceedingly witty, and brilliant – always keeping me on my toes. She brought me joy and laughter; things I had forgotten were mine. As I came to know her, I saw other things; she is perfectly honest. Though tactful, she always tells the truth; no lies, no deception, no games. We talk things out. I respect her opinion and I really admire her truth and honesty; she brings out the best of that in me. We also share a deep faith, basing our actions upon it: If you do right, and trust in God, sharing what you have with others, as the bedrock of your life, then you have nothing to fear. Creator will protect and provide. It’s all good. Then, there is the love. Around Annette, I can be me. No artifice – I don’t have to hide anything, or be anything I’m not. Just be me, and she loves me just the same, even when I’m not the best "me" I can be. I love her just the same, and feel honored and privileged to have the opportunity. Our coming together was like a fairy tale, and everything happened so quickly, like a spiral, going deeper and deeper, or higher and higher, finding new levels in each other, new facets found in ourselves, and sharing everything. It felt meant to be.A career woman, at 50, she had never married. So, it was all brand new. After the Summer Gathering the July 4 weekend at Manataka, we drove back to Lena, where I live. We were sitting on the front porch, watching the clouds change colors, waiting for the sun to rise. Annette and I love to do this; each morning, it seems, when we are together, is full of promise, with the rising sun blessing us, the perfect reminder that life is worth living and full of miracles, if you will only take the time to notice. We offer corn meal when we do this, in gratitude. So, we were sitting there – waiting to go to the airport so she could fly back to Miami -- and a little voice said: "Jim, if you let her go, you will regret it for the rest of your life." I answered the little voice silently: "Well, what should I do? Marry her? Isn’t this a little quick? Won’t I scare her away if I suggest such a thing?" I’ve never been good with relationships; and I was terrified at the thought. "What if she says ‘no’?" I was too afraid to ask. I was tongue tied; my mouth wouldn’t work. And then, I remembered the fan. So, I went into the house and dug it out from the bottom of the closet, brought it out and told her the story of it, how the woman had said the right one would come along and she would know that it belonged to her. I told Annette: "Take this back with you to Miami. Hold it in your hands. Think about it. Then, let me know if it belongs to you. If it doesn’t," I added, hedging my bet, certain she would turn me down, and afraid I would lose her, "then just tell me, and we can continue as we are, if that’s OK with you." I handed her the fan, expecting her to not take it, or hand it back, or be embarrassed. She held it in her hands, and looked deeply at it. Time seemed to stand still. I don't think I was breathing. Then, she looked up at me, her face as radiant as the golden sun that was just coming over the treetops, and said: "I don’t have to think about it. The answer is ‘yes.’ This fan belongs to me." We made our plans to marry in the Fall at Manataka, then and there. The Ceremony For our rings, we chose what’s called "rolling rings," actually three rings of red, white and yellow gold intertwined that move around, constantly shifting and changing. Inside them, we had inscribed in Cherokee what we believe in: on the red gold ring, "Faith and Creator" (The Good Red Road); on the white gold ring, "Truth and Honesty"; and, on the yellow gold ring, "Love and Happiness." In the ceremony, she came riding into the Sun on a Medicine Horse, a big white horse with Sacred markings on it, stately and slow, regal, above the crowd, dressed in finest beaded buckskins. A retinue of honored, beloved grandmothers, and mothers with their young daughters attended to her on foot. Her hair was braided with a single hawk feather over her left shoulder, pointing to her heart, to say she is promised to one. Necklaces of brightly colored woven trade beads, bear claws, and corn maidens carved from deer antlers adorned her breast. Her silver earrings shaped like wolves sparkled in the sun. Her purple shawl embroidered with white healing Medicine Bears was like a mantle. She held her turkey feather fan emblazoned with its conch shell dragonfly like a scepter. She was given away by Doc Chanter Davidson (Yo Wa Tee Kah Naw Ghistee), head of The Bear Clan Medicine Society of Russellville, Ark., where I am a Bear Dancer (a 7-year commitment to give sacrifice for healing the Earth and all beings through Bear Medicine dancing). Each draped in a blue blanket, we approached the Elder who performed the ceremony, Lee Standing Bear Moore, a Keetowah Cherokee, from opposite directions, me from the East (the place of new beginnings in the Medicine Wheel) and her from the West (the place of inner wisdom) , as the sun rose. The blue blankets symbolize that before we came together, we were alone, and draped in our solitary sorrows. When we said our vows, the blue blankets were dropped, replaced by a single white blanket draped over us together, as one, with a red stripe going through it for The Good Red Road, the way of the Creator’s walk for us upon the Earthly Mother. In the Cherokee ceremony, we took a walk around the Sacred Fire, giving our vows in seven steps, each step making a promise out loud to the other. We used as our vows the six principles inscribed in our rings, with one more, to make the sacred number 7: To listen to each other, always, in all ways, even when no words are spoken. To end the ceremony in traditional manner, we were to drink from a special wedding vase used in Cherokee ceremony. This was very special, as it was gifted to us from my 18-year-old son, Ross, who was my best man. It is a keepsake that symbolizes the marriage, along with the wedding blanket (we gifted the two blue blankets to a couple we know – nudge, nudge!) It is a vase with two opposing spouts that the couple drinks together. It is said that however much water is spilled in drinking from it, that is the amount of tears and sorrows the couple will have during their marriage. Of course, there’s no way to drink from such a vessel without spilling, so everyone was leaning forward to see how much we would spill on ourselves and to laugh – for that’s the point, after all. But just when we put the vase to our lips, we sprang our plot, and pulled out two drinking straws, using them to empty the vessel from each spout without spilling a drop! The crowd roared. Standing Bear, who has performed countless of these ceremonies, laughed the loudest. "Who came up with that!?" he bellowed. We laughed in each other’s eyes: Annette had asked me to detour on the way to the ceremonial grounds that morning to pick up some straws, and didn't reveal her plan until it was too late for me to protest. After the ceremony, when people lined up to greet and congratulate us, and we handed out packets of Sacred Blue Corn, as our givea\way, in gratitude for the Creator and those who came, little girls just wanted to touch and hug Annette, in awe, their bright eyes shining. Later, we realized what was happening. Little girls just love horses, and each dreams of a wedding day, like a fairy tale. And here was this woman, this princess on a big white horse, who rode regally to her wedding, and stepped to Earth among them: a fairy tale come true. They wanted to touch the princess, and know that she was real, and that fairy tales do come true. And I can attest. They do. In the ceremony, she came riding into the Sun on a Medicine Horse . . . In the Cherokee ceremony, we took a walk around the Sacred Fire, giving our vows in seven steps . . . More Photos . . . Taking the Seven Steps . . . And I Pronounce You Husband And Wife . . . You May Kiss The Bride . . . OK, Guys, Break It Up . . . Son, Ross, 18, was Best Man. Did We Put the Texas Cherokees to Sleep??? CHEROKEE PRAYER God in heaven above please protect the ones we love. We honor all you created as we pledge our hearts and lives together. We honor Mother Earth and ask for our marriage to be abundant and grow stronger through the seasons. We honor fire - and ask that our union be warm and glowing with love in our hearts. We honor wind - and ask we sail through life safe and calm as in our father's arms. We honor water - to clean and soothe our marriage– that it may never thirst for love. All the forces of the universe you created, we pray for harmony and true happiness, as we forever grow young together. Amen. Redland Country News Article>


Copyright 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 1006, 2007, Jim PathFinder Ewing, All Rights Reserved Web design: Bear Walks With Wolf Studios

A Traditional Native American Wedding

By JimPathFinder Ewing (Nvnehi Awatisgi)

On Oct. 15, Annette Zimmerman Wells of Miami, Fla., and I were married in a traditional Native American Ceremony at the Manataka American Indian Council Fall Gathering in Hot Springs, Ark.

To be perfectly honest, at age 52, and having been divorced for more than 7 years from a 16-year marriage, I never thought I would get married again, and it certainly didn’t seem that marriage was in the cards for me.

A little story. . . .

Some time ago, I needed a ceremonial fan – a feather fan used in various Native ceremonies – and so I contacted a Nativewoman who is good at such things. I had a girlfriend at the time, and so I also ordered one for her, as a present. But time went by and the fans never came.

After my girlfriend and I broke up, a box arrived; it was the two fans. The one for me was perfect, better than imagined; but the one had ordered for her "looked" nothing like her – wrong colors, totems, etc. So, I wrote and asked what I should do with it. "Hold on to it," she wrote back. "You two weren’t meant to be together. Spirit told me. But there's someone who will come into your life soon and she will be the right one. I made this fan for her."

Time went by, and it seemed that there was no "one." I even tried to give the fan to a friend. She took it in her hands, looked at it, got a far away look in her eyes and said, "This is very beautiful. But it doesn’t belong to me," and gave it back. I was somewhat astonished.

Eventually, I put it in a shoebox in the bottom of my bedroom closet, and forgot about it.

Annette and I met through Manataka, where we are both members. We immediately "clicked." I have a rather odd sense of humor. When I tell a joke, no one laughs. I have to explain the joke. Then, they sort of half laugh. So, I quit telling jokes.

The first thing I noticed about Annette was that she laughed at my jokes. Not only that, but she would top them; so we would end up just going back and forth, keeping each other in stitches – and no one had a clue what we were laughing at. Being a professor of art at Miami Dade College, she’s exceedingly witty, and brilliant – always keeping me on my toes.

She brought me joy and laughter; things I had forgotten were mine.

As I came to know her, I saw other things; she is perfectly honest. Though tactful, she always tells the truth; no lies, no deception, no games. We talk things out. I respect her opinion and I really admire her truth and honesty; she brings out the best of that in me.

We also share a deep faith, basing our actions upon it: If you do right, and trust in God, sharing what you have with others, as the bedrock of your life, then you have nothing to fear. Creator will protect and provide. It’s all good.

Then, there is the love. Around Annette, I can be me. No artifice – I don’t have to hide anything, or be anything I’m not. Just be me, and she loves me just the same, even when I’m not the best "me" I can be.

I love her just the same, and feel honored and privileged to have the opportunity.

Our coming together was like a fairy tale, and everything happened so quickly, like a spiral, going deeper and deeper, or higher and higher, finding new levels in each other, new facets found in ourselves, and sharing everything. It felt meant to be.A career woman, at 50, she had never married. So, it was all brand new.

After the Summer Gathering the July 4 weekend at Manataka, we drove back to Lena, where I live. We were sitting on the front porch, watching the clouds change colors, waiting for the sun to rise. Annette and I love to do this; each morning, it seems, when we are together, is full of promise, with the rising sun blessing us, the perfect reminder that life is worth living and full of miracles, if you will only take the time to notice. We offer corn meal when we do this, in gratitude.

So, we were sitting there – waiting to go to the airport so she could fly back to Miami -- and a little voice said: "Jim, if you let her go, you will regret it for the rest of your life." I answered the little voice silently: "Well, what should I do? Marry her? Isn’t this a little quick? Won’t I scare her away if I suggest such a thing?" I’ve never been good with relationships; and I was terrified at the thought. "What if she says ‘no’?"

I was too afraid to ask. I was tongue tied; my mouth wouldn’t work.

And then, I remembered the fan.

So, I went into the house and dug it out from the bottom of the closet, brought it out and told her the story of it, how the woman had said the right one would come along and she would know that it belonged to her.

I told Annette: "Take this back with you to Miami. Hold it in your hands. Think about it. Then, let me know if it belongs to you. If it doesn’t," I added, hedging my bet, certain she would turn me down, and afraid I would lose her, "then just tell me, and we can continue as we are, if that’s OK with you."

I handed her the fan, expecting her to not take it, or hand it back, or be embarrassed. She held it in her hands, and looked deeply at it. Time seemed to stand still. I don't think I was breathing. Then, she looked up at me, her face as radiant as the golden sun that was just coming over the treetops, and said: "I don’t have to think about it. The answer is ‘yes.’ This fan belongs to me."

We made our plans to marry in the Fall at Manataka, then and there.

The Ceremony

For our rings, we chose what’s called "rolling rings," actually three rings of red, white and yellow gold intertwined that move around, constantly shifting and changing. Inside them, we had inscribed in Cherokee what we believe in: on the red gold ring, "Faith and Creator" (The Good Red Road); on the white gold ring, "Truth and Honesty"; and, on the yellow gold ring, "Love and Happiness."

In the ceremony, she came riding into the Sun on a Medicine Horse, a big white horse with Sacred markings on it, stately and slow, regal, above the crowd, dressed in finest beaded buckskins. A retinue of honored, beloved grandmothers, and mothers with their young daughters attended to her on foot. Her hair was braided with a single hawk feather over her left shoulder, pointing to her heart, to say she is promised to one. Necklaces of brightly colored woven trade beads, bear claws, and corn maidens carved from deer antlers adorned her breast. Her silver earrings shaped like wolves sparkled in the sun. Her purple shawl embroidered with white healing Medicine Bears was like a mantle. She held her turkey feather fan emblazoned with its conch shell dragonfly like a scepter.

She was given away by Doc Chanter Davidson (Yo Wa Tee Kah Naw Ghistee), head of The Bear Clan Medicine Society of Russellville, Ark., where I am a Bear Dancer (a 7-year commitment to give sacrifice for healing the Earth and all beings through Bear Medicine dancing).

Each draped in a blue blanket, we approached the Elder who performed the ceremony, Lee Standing Bear Moore, a Keetowah Cherokee, from opposite directions, me from the East (the place of new beginnings in the Medicine Wheel) and her from the West (the place of inner wisdom) , as the sun rose. The blue blankets symbolize that before we came together, we were alone, and draped in our solitary sorrows. When we said our vows, the blue blankets were dropped, replaced by a single white blanket draped over us together, as one, with a red stripe going through it for The Good Red Road, the way of the Creator’s walk for us upon the Earthly Mother.

In the Cherokee ceremony, we took a walk around the Sacred Fire, giving our vows in seven steps, each step making a promise out loud to the other. We used as our vows the six principles inscribed in our rings, with one more, to make the sacred number 7: To listen to each other, always, in all ways, even when no words are spoken.

To end the ceremony in traditional manner, we were to drink from a special wedding vase used in Cherokee ceremony. This was very special, as it was gifted to us from my 18-year-old son, Ross, who was my best man. It is a keepsake that symbolizes the marriage, along with the wedding blanket (we gifted the two blue blankets to a couple we know – nudge, nudge!)

It is a vase with two opposing spouts that the couple drinks together. It is said that however much water is spilled in drinking from it, that is the amount of tears and sorrows the couple will have during their marriage.

Of course, there’s no way to drink from such a vessel without spilling, so everyone was leaning forward to see how much we would spill on ourselves and to laugh – for that’s the point, after all.

But just when we put the vase to our lips, we sprang our plot, and pulled out two drinking straws, using them to empty the vessel from each spout without spilling a drop!

The crowd roared. Standing Bear, who has performed countless of these ceremonies, laughed the loudest. "Who came up with that!?" he bellowed. We laughed in each other’s eyes: Annette had asked me to detour on the way to the
ceremonial grounds that morning to pick up some straws, and didn't reveal her plan until it was too late for me to protest.

After the ceremony, when people lined up to greet and congratulate us, and we handed out packets of Sacred Blue Corn, as our givea\way, in gratitude for the Creator and those who came, little girls just wanted to touch and hug Annette, in awe, their bright eyes shining.

Later, we realized what was happening. Little girls just love horses, and each dreams of a wedding day, like a fairy tale. And here was this woman, this princess on a big white horse, who rode regally to her wedding, and stepped to Earth among them: a fairy tale come true.

They wanted to touch the princess, and know that she was real, and that fairy tales do come true.

And I can attest.

They do.

In the Cherokee ceremony, we took a walk around the Sacred Fire, giving our vows in seven steps . . .

We honor fire - and ask that our union be warm and glowing with love in our hearts.

We honor wind - and ask we sail through life safe and calm as in our father's arms.

We honor water - to clean and soothe our marriage– that it may never thirst for love.

All the forces of the universe you created, we pray for harmony and true happiness,