Page 78 of The Lonely Road

“Yes,” I concur, feeling a buoyancy that is unfamiliar, one that comes not from managing my emotions or containing them, because one wouldn’t want to let such a fickle feeling become too big, but a simple happiness that is all about being in her Wrangler, on a highway, going to her home because I want to.

When I told her it was an honor to be invited to the Bear Dance—I meant it.

I still do.

It is an honor.

I don’t deserve it, but I’m selfish and greedy—and I’m aware it’s moments like this that will come to my rescue later on when I’m back to being myself—back to managing myself.

I ask her a lot of questions about the Bear Dance. I could have read about it online, but I wanted the story from her.

“It’s also called mama-kwa-nhká-pú in Ute or the woman-return dance.”

She’s told me that she’s fluent in Ute; her grandmother insisted. It’s another layer about this woman who is a lawyer who wears designer cashmere and is also grounded in her heritage.

“Woman-return dance?”

She chuckles. “Yes, because women choose their partners. It’s an endurance test that lasts four days or longer. Couples dance in lines inside a brush corral.”

“But we’re not going for four days.”

We left on Sunday morning, and we’ll be back Monday evening. We’re staying the night at her grandmother’s place. Her cousin, who is there some of the time and uses the house as a quiet place to work on her dissertation, is not there as she’s at a conference. So, it’s going to be just us.

“I go for all four days when I can, but…it’s been busy with work this year.”

“Four days is quite a commitment,” I remark.

She laughs. “Yes. But back in the day, it was a 10-day event. It was about strengthening social ties…and sort of a dating scene as well. The community used to encourage courtship.”

There is the strength of culture and tradition in her voice as she speaks—a love for her people.

She slows down to let a clown in a Mustang pass her.

“Those days, it was all about dancing, feasting, games, horse racing, and gambling. Now, we do the feasting and games only.” She glances at me. “Bear Dance is one of the oldest Ute ceremonies. It was first recorded by Spanish conquistadors in the 15th century…but oral tradition dates it to be a thousand years old or older.”

“How did it start?” I wonder aloud.

“There are several stories, but the one that is told most is about how the year’s first thunderstorm led two brothers to a female bear just out of hibernation. She stood upright and clawed at a tree as she moved back and forth. One brother stayed with the bear and learned from her. He returned to his people and taught them the Bear Dance.”

She continues to tell me why the bear is important to her people, as it symbolizes leadership, strength, and wisdom.

“You go back to Ignacio often?” I ask because I’m aware this is a drive she makes regularly—probably has for years.

“At least once a month, sometimes more if I’m needed or there’s a celebration.”

“Like the Bear Dance?”

The corners of her mouth move. “Yes.”

She turns off the highway at one point without explaining why.

It’s a vista point.

“I always stop here on my way home.”

“And on the way back?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Then I drive past it.”