I was in northern Arizona recently doing a video about 18-wheelers with triple trailers (it’s a living) and had a chance to go to a Hopi reservation and meet a medicine man. He was a fascinating character. I had expected a lot of feathers and war paint like the Frederick Remington paintings but instead, he was a gracious elderly gentleman in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki slacks.
He could see that I was taken aback and said, “You were expecting maybe Crazy Horse?” I was humbled.
Soon enough we were talking seriously about the plight of Native Americans (the white man has nothing to be proud of), the difficulty of keeping teenagers in school (see “nothing to be proud of”), and finally the Hopi religion. I was especially interested in the kachinas since I had bought a couple of the dolls on a previous trip.
My friend explained that the kachinas were an integral part of Hopi beliefs. They are spirits there are over 200 different ones who come down from the mountains in the Four Corners area for six months every year. According to “Rainmakers From The Gods,” an online exhibit (© 1997 President and Fellows of Harvard College), the kachinas are “messengers who accept Hopi gifts and prayers for health, fertility, and rain and carry them back to the gods. Their role as rainmakers is particularly important to the Hopi, whose agriculture in the high, arid desert of northeastern Arizona has always been precarious.”
The Hopi and their traditions have been around since long before the birth of Christ. It stands to reason that the rainmakers must be doing something right or the Hopis would have dropped corn production and tried to develop new recipes for cactus.
The need for rainmakers, Native American or not, hasn’t slacked off. Most Native American cultures have some sort of rainmaking tradition, and we’ve all heard about barnstorming pilots dumping dry ice into clouds hoping to stir up a thunderstorm.
Translate The Hopi Spirit Into Boardroom Decisions
What does all this have to do with the legal profession and rainmaking? I’m certainly not suggesting that your chief business person don a kachina outfit and burst into the local country club. That tends to scare the diners and you wouldn’t want one of them choking on a crumpet. Besides, it might have a tiny tendency to reflect poorly on the firm. Also, rain dances, while certainly entertaining, are distracting in front of your building or outside an office. While I’m not personally aware of such activities, I’m fairly sure reactions from observers wouldn’t be positive.
So what’s the point other than to give you a hint of my interest in Native American culture? I have a great deal of respect for the culture of the Hopis and other tribes. (In Hopi families, by the way, the women own all the land and are the dominant members of the family. So there.) One of the reasons I respect them is their firm commitment to tradition and their patience and resolve in adhering to it.
Those of you who are charged with dragging new clients into the teepee might keep in mind that new clients are looking beyond the networking, sales pitches and snazzy brochures. They want to see who you really are, to see if you can keep a promise, and if they can trust you. They want to know about your traditions and hear your stories. While building a campfire and passing a peace pipe may be going over the edge, being at peace with yourself and transferring that to a new client isn’t.
“Wisdom comes only when you stop looking for it and start living the life the Creator intended for you.”
- Hopi Indian
Now you can go dump some dry ice on the conference room table.
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