Faces of Resilience
We went in search of scenic beauty. We found resilience among the people.
Background & Prelude:
Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park is 91,696 acres of mile-high sandy desert landscape punctuated by massive buttes, striking monoliths, and expansive mesas sculpted by wind and water over vast time. Majestic and colorful, the area spans Utah & Arizona, drawing tourists from around the world to the four-corners region. This month, my husband and I were among the numbers visiting Monument Valley as well as Antelope Canyon, a slot canyon of stunning sand art in the Lake Powell Navajo Tribal Park near the Arizona-Utah border.
Drawn to these locations by the natural beauty, we were not disappointed. The color, majesty and sheer wonder of such dramatic, ancient, and ever-evolving landscapes readily evoked awe and wonder – and perhaps a touch of disbelief in the sights that surrounded us. If you have not been there, I hope that a few of our cell phone photos will help you to understand what I mean. With the narrative that follows, however, I want to offer humbly a sample of the stories we heard from our guides for whom this land is home.
We traveled on our own in May when temperatures were cool and crowds of tourists had yet to arrive, arranging ahead of time with Navajo-owned companies for guided tours to more fully explore the area. Unusually, we were the only people on three of the five tours. (On our fourth tour, a single tourist from Japan joined us; the final segment found us in a group of ten.) Our guides not only spoke of their culture and history but also offered glimpses of their daily lives: gems of wisdom passed down from elders that guide them still; deeply held respect for and understanding of this land; and a quiet resilience in the face of abundant challenges.
Without divulging identities, I share portions of their stories, filtered – as all retellings are – through my own limited understanding. I intend for this to honor their generosity in sharing with us. I have given each of our guides an initial for this essay.
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Location: Monument Valley – Main Valley and Mystery Valley
Timeframe: Two days
W: Raising horses, sheep, chickens, dogs, and a goat on a 17-acre allotment from the Tribe. He had imagined himself being a teacher and a high school coach when he ran away from home in search of more education. After convincing the officers who tracked him down that he was up to some good as a runaway, he was eventually able to graduate from college. He returned home, but the job he hoped for never materialized. He signed on as a tour guide and has been doing that ever since.
As soon as he completes his work guiding us today, he will hop in his pickup truck with a water tank in the bed and head to the Food Lion in Kayenta. There he will wait in line, often until midnight, to buy water to keep his animals alive. It has not rained for the past two months even though rain can usually be counted on in spring.
“How often do you have to make this run?” I ask.
“Oh, every night,” he responds. “The gas is costing a lot these days.”
It’s 44 miles round trip from Monument Valley to Kayenta via Highway 163. It would require a permit from the Nation to drill for water on his land and that takes years. And thousands of dollars that are hard to come by.
Thirty percent of the homes on Navajo Nation do not have running water. “In Arizona vs. Navajo Nation (2023) the U.S. Supreme Court held the federal government has no affirmative duty to secure water for the Nation.”1
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W: We are The People – Diné. We do not call ourselves Navajo. That name was given by Spanish missionaries and used by the U.S. government. We do not come from this land. Our people are from what is now called Alaska. We were driven to this land by the intense cold up north and then trapped here by the government. We are not warriors but peace-loving people. We were able to survive here only because other tribes helped us learn how to live on this land.
“Consider the Navajo Nation (Diné), whose territory spans over 27,000 square miles across Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah – an area larger than 10 U.S. states. Their history is marked by the traumatic “Long Walk” of 1864, a forced removal by the U.S. military, yet they returned to rebuild and thrive. The Navajo language, Diné Bizaad, played a crucial role during World War II with the legendary Code Talkers, whose unbreakable code helped secure Allied victory. Today, the Navajo Nation grapples with issues of water rights, economic development, and cultural preservation on an immense scale. “Our land is our mother; without it, we are nothing,” a Diné elder once remarked, encapsulating the profound spiritual and physical connection to their ancestral territory.”2
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Perhaps with a slight jab at where we live, W notes that their territory is larger than West Virginia. Then he mentions how well he knows this land. I tell him about the guide we had several years ago in Canyon de Chelly who told us that he would be able to find his way home from any point in the Canyon even on the darkest night.3
“Yes, I could do that. And I am never afraid of the dark. It is my grandmother so why would I be afraid?” He continues, “Night is my grandmother. Earth is my mother. Sun is my father; stars are the children. The stones are my grandfather.”
“This is my pharmacy,” he says pointing to an array of scrubby plants along the trail. “Soap, too. And Navajo tea.”
Later he will point out the many streaks of black and dark brown that appear to flow downward from the top of mesas and explain that it is called Navajo varnish. Navajo varnish is created when water gathers minerals and microorganisms before cascading down the sides of the immense mesas creating a dark visual contrast to the red sandstone.
“That is my shampoo,” says W. “It is what makes my hair black.” I thought he was joking but couldn’t quite be sure.
We speak of the beauty. We explore the amazing geological formations, the ancient pueblos and petroglyphs from the ancient ones.
“My grandmother comes here only once a year. She would not come all this time. This is not routine. It is special. Just one day in December.”
“Like a pilgrimage?” I ask.
“Yes, a pilgrimage.”
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The next day, our guide is R. We also encounter, intentionally and accidentally, two others who will be our teachers.
R: “We prefer to lead a simple life, taking no more than we need,” she tells us as she takes us to visit the hogan originally belonging to J’s grandmother. In honor of her grandmother’s teaching, J hosts visitors to the hogan. It is here that she spins and weaves the beautiful tapestries, many of which she sells. We are instructed to announce ourselves at the open door and wait to be invited in. Then we are to move in a clockwise direction around the stove that is vented out the permanent opening above. This is a female hogan; unlike the male hogan that is intended to be moved, this structure of wooden logs covered over with mud feels solid, sturdy, airtight, and built to last.
J’s grandmother taught her to card, spin, and weave the wool. Her mother was a nurse, working long and irregular hours, so J’s daily care and instruction came from Grandmother. Today, she works on a graduation garment for her niece. Later we learn that in the local high school, the girls are being taught weaving so that they can make their own traditional dress that would be quite expensive for them to purchase.
When J mentions the local school, we ask what the education is like. She tells us that her son chose to keep his hair long and was bullied frequently for it. One day he came home from high school in tears. His hair, grown since birth, had been cut by a group of boys. Now in college, his hair is long. He tells people that his hair keeps him strong. Beneath her quiet words, I sense a mother’s pride in her son’s courage and perseverance. We thank her and continue our clockwise circle to exit the hogan, rejoin R, and continue our tour.
It’s only a few minutes, however, before R stops our tour to assist D. An elder in the tribe, he was taking another couple to visit to some spectacular petroglyphs when they stopped. It was then that a black dog took off with the keys to his SUV. (Yes, seriously.) The three of them are stranded, and the couple has a very limited time to visit. Y invites the three of them to ride with us – we have plenty of room given that the two of us are riding in the back of a vehicle intended for 12! – and off we go together to see the petroglyphs.
These are indeed incredible petroglyphs, clearly distinguishably, and about 5 feet from the ground unlike others we have seen that are positioned high above our heads. But before we can disembark from the tram to take a look, D has a story to tell.
D grew up with his grandfather’s story of The People coming to this place from four corners. This can be confusing since we are in a location called the “Four Corners” where Arizona, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico meet. But Grandfather insisted that he meant something more, something beyond D’s understanding as a child.
Guided by Grandfather’s stories and wisdom, D grew up to assume the role of language keeper for Diné Bizaad. Maintaining the attention of young people to learn the language wasn’t easy. Then, in 2018, Diné was released as a course on Duolingo, increasing interest of teens and adults who gravitated to online learning. Then D was approached about going to Siberia to share his expertise in teaching a native language.
“Siberia! Why Siberia?” he asked. Indigenous peoples there were seeking his advice to save their native tongue.
So off D went to Siberia. It was there that Grandfather’s stories came home to him. These too were his peoples, his distant relatives. He understood that Grandfather was speaking of The People coming from all corners of the world. D realized that he could see himself in the peoples of Siberia, just as he could in the weavings of Mongolia, or the faces of Hawaii, and the food of South America. He sketches this on a scrap of paper as he speaks, telling an origin story learned at his Grandfather’s knee and affirmed by his life experiences.
All this time, R had remained quiet, patiently honoring the sharing of wisdom by her elder. The story complete, D allows us off the tram and sketches out the story conveyed by the petroglyphs that includes birth, death, and travel to new lands.
We continue on until D is reunited with his vehicle, a new set of keys having been secured. The couple leaves to continue their journey to visit all 50 states. We are left in Y’s capable hands with the somewhat disorienting sense that we have received a gift of great value, yet one beyond our understanding.
That was not the only interaction that day that lingers still. Earlier R had told us that the roles of men and women in the tribe are kept in balance: men are tribal leaders and women make the decisions about the home. Where and how to live are weighty decisions, she explained, and only women make those decisions. I felt myself stiffen, arguments arising. Aware of my role as a guest, I carefully construct my comments and questions. Was that the right approach? What did I misunderstand? What lies unexamined in my own worldviews?
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Mesa are striking here. One wonders about their names: Mitchell Mesa. Merrick Mesa.
“The Mitchell name refers to Hearndon Mitchell, who along with Robert Merrick were prospectors. They were warned in 1879 to stay away from Monument Valley but were shot and killed there the following year by Utes. There is also Mitchell Butte immediately west of the mesa where Mitchell was killed.”4
Who chooses names for landmarks?
The buttes and mesas of this land are iconic having been brought into homes and theaters through an abundance of commercials, television shows, and movies, perhaps none more prominent than the Western. Stagecoach, Billy the Kid, How the West Was Won, The Legend of the Lone Ranger, etc.. From 1925 to 2018, Hollywood was at home here. Every guide knows someone who was an extra on a movie. Look up the list of movies. Which ones did you see growing up? Recently? How are the people who call this land home depicted?
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Location: Lake Powell Navajo Tribal Park, Antelope Canyon and Canyon X
Timeframe: Several hours on each of two days
L is in his mid-twenties. He came here as a boy with his family, well before this slot canyon was “discovered” as a tourist attraction. The owner of the land brought the family to the opening and then left them to wander as he waited for them in his pickup. L recalls his family asking, “When was the last time someone visited?” The owner paused and then replied, “Probably 4-5 years before you.”
Then things changed. National Geographic first featured Antelope Canyon in its June 1985 issue. Now masses of tourists visit the canyon each year; tours fill up quickly and run like clockwork.
“Nestled in the heart of Arizona’s Navajo Nation, Antelope Canyon is a mesmerizing slot canyon renowned for its narrow passageways, undulating sandstone walls, and ethereal beams of light that seem almost otherworldly. But what makes this canyon truly extraordinary? Is it the way sunlight pierces through the narrow openings to create dancing beams on the smooth, flowing walls? Or is it the sense of stepping into a secret world carved over millions of years by water and wind? Beyond its breathtaking visuals, Antelope Canyon carries stories of ancient geological forces and deep Navajo cultural significance. Its allure is more than just scenery—it is a place where nature, history, and spirituality converge, inviting every visitor to uncover its hidden mysteries.”5
L lives in Kayenta, 96 miles away from Antelope Canyon. He makes the trip each evening after leading tours because, as he says, it is home.
As we exit the canyon, he pauses. “We really shouldn’t be here. This is a sacred place. So, I say a prayer before I begin every morning.”
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Postlude:
We are still pondering our trip. We went in search of beauty, those vast and rugged landscapes carved by wind and water over deep time. We found that writ large. And more. The wisdom of the people lingers with us and is still unfolding. Perhaps that is the way of any pilgrimage. You bring home blessings; they reveal themselves slowly, often in the form of questions.
Your thoughts are welcome. And if you enjoyed this essay, please consider sharing it.
https://nativeamericanstoday.com/the-navajo-nation-dine-history-culture-today/
In Discovering the Spiritual Wisdom of Trees (Norcross & Rampy, 2025), Chapter 6, “Embracing Light & Dark, I elaborated on the conversation with our guide in Canyon de Chelly.
Thank you for this beautiful reflection on your journey. My husband and I have wanted to visit that part of the country for years. Your experience with the people sounds like it was sacred as the places you visited.
Thank you for sharing the wisdom of the Dine people and your experiences of the tours. Beautiful pictures evoked memories of my own visit there years ago.