ABSTRACT
I grew up singing popular folk songs and musical theater, but eventually singing was no longer part of my life. I think this happens to a lot of people. A pivotal moment in my return to song came in 2003, when my partner took me to a sweat lodge ceremony on Long Island that was run by Charles “Red Hawk” Thom, a Karuk elder from California. Thom sang throughout the ceremony. Just when I felt my lungs would burst, I left the lodge and went out into the cold night air where I started singing loudly and wordlessly. The next day I found myself singing to a group of actors before an improvised performance that I had directed. These two moments are described in the following journal excerpts. In sharing them, I do not wish to repeat the trope of a white person finding spiritual meaning in an encounter with indigenous tradition while remaining oblivious to the colonial politics that underpin such moments. Nevertheless, given the importance of song in my life and work since then, it seems important to acknowledge this debt and to recognize the embodied transmission that took place. 1
