Summary

This book presents the ceremonial rain dance of Cochiti Pueblo as a lived, embodied theology that replaces abstract gods with a tangible, participatory divinity. Through detailed observation of dancers painted with red adobe and white rain, carrying turtle-rattles and pine sprays, the text argues that this ritual creates a god "you could lie down in him and roll" — a deity made real through human movement, drumming, and the physical transformation of arid land into lake. The dance is not symbolic but performative: it "made a cloud and made it break" and "called the rain and made it come."

The book contrasts this visceral spirituality with Christian iconography, showing dancers "reminding him all day long / That death is weak and life is strong" before a saint's shrine. A reader takes away the understanding that for the Cochiti, fertility of land and people are inseparable — "the better they dance the better they know / How to make corn and children grow." The dance collapses time, merging living dancers with "dead men out of earlier lives" who become "partly flesh and partly clay," their heads "corn that was dry and gray." This cyclical, earth-bound worldview offers an alternative to linear, book-based religion.

Key concepts

  • Dance-for-rain theologyA participatory religion where divinity is physically experienced through ritual movement, not abstract belief — "a god that you tasted and took / Into a cup that you made with your hands."
  • Ghostly fertilityThe belief that ancestral spirits join the dance as "dead men out of earlier lives" who become "partly flesh and partly clay" to help make "corn and children grow."
  • Ritual weather-makingThe ceremonial process of "slowly put the sun away" and "made a cloud and made it break" through synchronized drumming, chanting, and dancing.
  • Body-painting cosmologyThe practice of painting dancers' bodies with "red adobe and the white rain" and "turquoise sky" to embody the landscape itself.
  • Mesa-tablet headdressA ceremonial headpiece worn by women dancers, described as "a mesa-tablet on the head" with "a little grassy creeping tread," linking human movement to geological forms.

From the book

So buy a toy with me in the market-place, A bird painted singing on a dish of clay, Or a water-bottle to hang on a firefly, Or a basket for a beetle to market with. What would a market be like, unless we were children Prizing above all else a bird that sings Within this dish of clay, this human breast?← A Countryman Indian Earth by Witter Bynner A Boatman A Guitarist → New York: Alfred A Knopf, page 17 5100546 Indian Earth — A Boatman ​ A BOATMAN I n a pool of shadow floating cool on the sand, As if for a fish to lean in motionless, The boatman lies asleep, shirt wrinkled away From his brown middle, hands under head, legs Dreaming of death; and close to him as a weed Is to a fish, his hat is sleeping too . . . . How intimate he is with the good earth, As if, long buried, he were still…
We feasted on pork and corn. Quick with tequila, We danced and sang to harp, violin, guitar. But the blind guitarist was centuries back in Asia, With a moon in his hand and with mango-lidded eyes.← La Francesa Indian Earth by Witter Bynner A Linnet Dolphins → New York: Alfred A Knopf, page 26 5100556 Indian Earth — A Linnet ​ A LINNET O n the September road from Guadalajara, Over corn-flower and water-lily, cosmos and marigold The birds and yellow butterflies go reeling, And even a man who owns a motor-car Has time to see the entire world concentered In the poise and flight and absence of a linnet; Even the mind of a motorist can taper To the point of a brush in ancient Chinese fingers.
He darts and darts, Forever untaught by the shock against his wings. And then, too frayed for flight, he trembles downward, Till only his eyes can long for the godly flame. Have I not tried a thousand times myself To pierce the fiery quick of being dead?← A Bird that Sings Indian Earth by Witter Bynner A Weaver from Jocotepec Band Concert → New York: Alfred A Knopf, page 14 5100542 Indian Earth — A Weaver from Jocotepec ​ A WEAVER FROM JOCOTEPEC 1 S undays he comes to me with new zarapes Woven especial ways to please us both: The Indian key and many-coloured flowers And lines called rays and stars called little doves. I order a design; he tells me yes And looking down across his meager beard, Foresees a good zarape. Other times I order a design; he tells me no. 2 Since the weavers of…

Popular questions readers ask