5/31 ALBUQUERQUE INDIAN SCHOOL [New Mexico]

This was a good example of the community "making it their own." We provided a loose sort of framework, and an excuse to gather, but the event was both orchestrated and controlled on the local level. This is, on the whole, a good thing. As I said early on, marching into any community, particularly an Indian community, and saying, "We decided what's going to work for you" is a recipe for disaster. That said, the extent to which the event was controlled was a little surprising to me, as were the many aspects that were completely unique.

The venue itself was nice, with long banquet-style tables set up facing a small stage. Every three chairs, there was a pitcher of ice water, and two or three uniformed waiters would occassionally clear glasses or refill the pitchers. Another striking feature is how different each location has been in that respect: from uniformed waiters at a banquet hall, to high-school principals speaking in the gym, to tents set up on a lawn with extension cords coming in from half-a-block away, to a cement cellar where they didn't really want us to be there (Hi, Wyoming!).

Three things stand out in my mind. There was a general aversion to being recorded that was pecularly strong. Too bad there were a total of 6 video cameras run by 6 people. (I ran two... I can't remember why they had an extra person.) (I wish I had an extra person.) This is the only location so far where I've had to sign something to set up a camera. Wayne was pretty busy with stuff, and didn't let me read what I signed. I hope that doesn't come back to haunt me later.

There was an extra ceremony, their idea, which I still can't decide how I feel about. A circle was made up front with 4 Indians and a white couple. Taking turns, the white couple listed the faults of Caucasian America and then begged forgiveness; the woman going so far as to say her entire piece on her knees. The apology was accepted, with one woman saying that this is the first documented apology of any kind from a white person to the Pueblo people as a group, ever. The experience was powerful and a little dizzying (not sure what that means, but I don't think I was the only one who felt dizzy).

The reason I feel uncertain about the event is probably tied to my lingering uncertainty with the entire issue of forgiveness. At its very heart, I feel that what we're doing is ultimately pretty pragmatic. One forgivess because the act of forgiving helps yourself. When you let go of your anger, you heal.

There's something a little disingenuous, a little theatrical, about two white people speaking for the entire white race from the last 400ish years. Realistically, they don't have that authority. That's a lot of people to speak for, including a lot of long-since dead people, and these speakers are just some couple from New Mexico. Not a couple of elected officials, even, but probably people at pee-wee summer baseball volunteer coach levels of authority or less.

In a different sort of way, that same problem looms from the other side of the coin. Although the shadow unquestionably looms into the present day (and looms obviously enough that this is, admittedly, less of an issue), the majority of the people most directly hurt by the boarding schools are not here. In fact, the people hurt the very worst aren't here because they were murdered. Can anyone today really forgive that? What gives them the authority? And who can accept that forgiveness? Many of the individuals simply aren't present, and we're left with the vague enormity of institutions, ideas, and far-flung decendants.

That's why I feel, ultimately, that what we're really dealing with is an intensely personal sort of experience. When we ask people to forgive, we're asking them to let go of their own personal anger; a process which will benefit themselves more than anything or anyone else. Looking at it this way, it can't be done at a level larger than "individual." Which anger they are letting go, and who exactly it was directed against, are concepts that could be seen as basically unimportant. There is certainly enough anger to go around -- against the government, the military, the Church, specific abusers, those who stayed silent, white society, a crumbled parenting system, the influence of alcohol, and who-knows-what-other aspects of the boarding school nightmare. It's too big for anyone to forgive or anyone to take responsibility for. What people can do, however, is learn the story, understand the horror, and then release their own personal anger through forgiveness. This is healing, but it's all personal and it's all internal.

I think that's why it struck me as so odd for anyone to try to take responsibility and offer an apology for a system so entrenched, long-lasting, and massive. All we can really do in situations like these, I believe, is to apologize for our own personal failings, and forgive individually -- forgive whomever or whatever we choose for ourselves to be the focal point of our anger. No one can really accept that forgiveness, because no one has the right to do so; it's really only the forgiver's action that is important.

I'm pretty tired as I write this. I hope it came out clearly, and I hope I didn't say anything that will get me kicked off this journey. I don't think I'm too far off, though.

The third was a chilling story about the school. Apparently, there was a teacher who had a favorite method of punishment (having a favorite method should immediately disqualify anyone from working with children). When students misbehaved, he was known to take them into the basement, handcuff their hands around a ceiling-mounted steam pipe, and inject them with Thorazine to keep them from struggling. When they were sufficiently burned, they were released. The year was 1969.

1969. This is modern-era.

The fourth thing (out of three) that struck me was how difficult it was for me to be in-the-moment. It could just be an off-day for me, but I think it ties back to my beginning to back-up tapes. I don't remember if I mentioned it, and I'm not going to look now, but I started storing the footage I've shot so far on an external hard drive. Something about that process starting whetting my appetite for making this movie -- it made the movie-making part of the journey more real. Now I'm a little frustrated that I won't even be able to start for another month, but I want to sink my teeth into it now. Everything else I shoot is just pushing it farther back, and making the editing harder, too. Let's hope that wears off. There's a whole lot left to go.