The Four Ascents to Immortality: A Preliminary Investigation into the Cosmology of Black Elk's Vision

By John Knight Lundwall

Whatever the criticism offered against the apocalyptic visions of the old-time sages–the burning rapture of John the Revelator, the cataclysmic shaking of Tonatiuh, the Aztec fifth Sun, or the prophecies of the Kali Yuga foretold by the Hindu seers–one woeful truth remains upon the horizon of time: there are scores of civilizations who have already fallen into the dust of wholesale destruction. Curiously, each prophetic example given also foresees a new creation that follows. Like a phoenix, the ages of humankind and the ages of the Earth share a particular rhythm that can sustain itself from the ashes. This rhythm is cyclical and is allegorized by the cosmos itself, whose luminary orbs rise and set in a series of daily, monthly, and yearly arcs, the procession of which defines periods of growth and decay, light and dark, life and death.

Life and death was the perennial subject of ancient, liturgic religion which was fundamentally cosmological in nature. Sun, Moon, Star, and Earth myths fill volumes of ethnological studies, and as E. C. Krupp observes numerous Native American tribes–Hopi, Ute, Cherokee, Chumash, Sioux, not to mention all the Mesoamerican civilizations–built holy places aligned with celestial movements and performed sacred rituals commemorating the creation of a new world (such as the New Fire ceremony of both the Mexica and the Hopi) or preserved the Earth through a winter of darkness (such as the numerous Chumash shrines aligned to the winter solstice) (82-99, 129-138, 190-213).

While myth and ritual descend from a long lineage of tradition stretching back centuries and even millennia, curiously, some myth systems may experience sudden leaps of genesis from primal, revelatory moments. This may seem counter-intuitive to our evolutionary notions, but a curious story is told in the journal Science of an Apache holy man named Silas John, who, in 1904, had a vision and in a single night was taught by his Grandfathers a completely new and unique writing system for the purpose of preserving from decay the ritual prayers and ordinances of the tribe (Basso & Anderson, 1013-22). The authors of this article were stunned at the elegance and ingenuity of the system, which at the time of its publication (1973) was still in use by a small group of initiated Apaches.

We are reminded of the rhythms of death and birth. Here we have a man, Silas John, who in his own diminished culture, in a single night, had a primal revelation which birthed new hope amongst his people providing a way to preserve their most sacred work. In a similar occurrence is the record of Nicholas Black Elk, who, in a single night, had a “Great Vision” which also provided both a mythologic and ritualistic genesis amongst his people. Paradoxically, Black Elk also had his vision during the end-times of his civilization. Black Elk belonged to the Oglala Lakota (Sioux) tribe. He fought in the Battle of Little Big Horn (1876) and was himself wounded during the massacre at Wounded Knee (1890). In his generation the entire way of life of the Native North American was irreversibly changed. The sovereign Indian nations were demolished and were left to scrape a living from the government mandated reservations. Curiously, it is in these dark times that Black Elk beheld a wholly cosmogonic vision intimating a new creation and even salvation for his people. Out of the ashes, unexpectedly and phoenix-like, a new light shone forth.

Of course, to historians and even to Black Elk himself the new light of his vision did not seem to bring salvation for his people. Indeed, with Vision in hand and ritually re-enacted, Black Elk hoped to free his people from the reservations and return them to their old way of life, at home in their wide wilderness. Yet, this never happened, and Black Elk feared he had failed his Grandfathers and his people. In one of his very last acts Black Elk performed a rain dance, praying:

With tears running, O Great Spirit, Great Spirit, my Grandfather–with running tears I must say now that the tree has never bloomed. A pitiful old man, you see me here, and I have fallen away and have done nothing. Here at the center of the world, where you took me when I was young and taught me; here, old, I stand, and the tree is withered, Grandfather, my Grandfather! Again, and maybe the last time on this earth, I recall the great vision you sent me. It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives. Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds. Hear me, not for myself, but for my people; I am old. Hear me that they may once more go back into the sacred hoop and find the good red road, the shielding tree! (Niehardt 21).

Obviously Black Elk wished to return his people to their own dignity. It must be remembered, however, that mythologic and religious systems are oft times not for the decades, but for the ages. Black Elk sought from his Vision immediate power to dominate his circumstances. Perhaps there is another way to look at this primal revelation. In the words of Joseph Campbell, “Only birth can conquer death–the birth, not of the old thing again, but of something new” (Hero, 16). Black Elk, like many moderns, yearned a return to the “good old days” when things were simpler and more sacred. But time erases even the possibility of such a return, and what must be sought for is a virgin genesis within the new horizon time has brought. “Rites, then, together with the mythologies that support them,” Campbell reiterates, “constitute the second womb, the matrix of the postnatal gestation of the placental Homo sapiens” (Flight, 55). In this context, Black Elk’s vision constitutes a new exegesis pointing beyond the mundane nineteenth and twentieth centuries, but towards a new cosmogonic understanding altogether.

It must be remembered that Black Elk’s vision occurred when he was nine. He turned very ill and collapsed, and in an unconscious state he heard a voice declare,” Hurry! Come! Your Grandfathers are calling you!” (17). Appearing immediately were two men with flaming spears flying down from the sky. These are the guides who lead Black Elk through foreign and difficult territory to a place of truth, light, and creation. From the very beginning we get a sense of how this vision is linked through all the ages of mythogenesis and the liturgic mystery systems. In antiquity, whenever a neophyte entered the mystery temple he was attended by a guide who would show him the way. We get this imagery repeated in the Egyptian Book of the Dead where Anubis, the dog headed god leads the initiate on a path towards his All-Grandfather: Osiris!

Curiously, in a parallel line of thought, the Greek Hermes who is the guide of souls is often depicted accompanied with a dog, as is Orpheus (Chevalier & Gheerbrant 296-303). We cannot help but to notice that the Mayan dog glyph represented death (Robinson 122) and this imagery is repeated in a Quiche myth where Quetzalcoatl is accompanied by his animal double Xolotl, the dog god who is his guide and counselor in the Underworld. In this myth, as Burr Brundage notes, Quetzalcoatl and his dog-double Xolotl represent the Morning and Evening Star (91) whose role in cosmos is re-creation of the material world and rebirth in the next world. Venus, as the Morning and Evening Star, thus encompasses the symbolism of birth and resurrection (Morning Star) and death and the Underworld (Evening Star).

Here the images begin their connections, for in Black Elk’s vision the two spirit guides carrying flaming spears are directly associated with the “day break star” and the Grandfather of the East (21). The day break star is in fact the Morning star, which in its morning aspect both rises and sets in the east. Further, in the Dresden Codex, Venus is represented by a seated figure carrying two spears, signifying its Morning and Evening aspect (Milbrath 164-165). Nor can we overlook the uncanny synchronicity of Black Elk’s description of the day break star: “Then the daybreak star was rising, and a Voice said: ‘It shall be a relative to them [...] for thence comes wisdom [...].’ And then all the people raised their faces to the east, and the star’s light fell upon them, and all the dogs barked loudly [...]” (italics mine, 27). Suddenly, the cosmic vision of Black Elk appears to have nothing to do with freeing his people from their immediate, physical oppression, but signifies the “shielding tree” of another world altogether!

The spirit guides take Black Elk to a land of clouds above the Earth and introduce him to a being with four legs–a bay horse. This horse speaks, declaring, “Behold me! My life’s history you shall see” (18). Hence comes a series of images which at first seem utterly bizarre, but when viewed within a cosmological context, are poignantly elegant. First, Black Elk sees twelve black horses in the west, all abreast, with necklaces of bison hooves and lightning and thunder in their nostrils (18). Then marched twelve white horses from the north, all ablaze with geese swarming about them (18). Then came twelve sorrel horses from the east, with necklaces of Elk’s teeth and eyes that flashed like the daybreak star (18). Finally, twelve buckskin horses pranced from the south with horns on their heads and manes “that lived and grew like trees and grasses” (19). Furthermore, as Black Elk faced each cardinal direction the sky filled with horses of all kinds and colors, “a whole skyful of horses dancing round me” (19). These quadrupeds eventually transformed themselves into “animals of every kind and into all the fowls that are, and these fled back to the four quarters of the world from whence the horses came, and vanished” (19).

It is beyond the scope of this essay to advance the equestrian principle in myth and religion. Chevalier and Gheerbrant give a brief overview of the horse as an ancient symbol: “A belief, firmly seated in folk memory throughout the world,” they write, “associates the horse in the beginning of time with darkness and with the chthonian world from which it sprang, cantering, like blood pulsating in the veins, out of the bowels of the Earth or from the depths of the sea” (516). Here the horse is clearly linked with the processes of the Earth, for like a horse the Earth rides its inexhaustible course across the landscape of time and space. Thus the Earth, like the horse, “[Carries] men and women on its back, it is their vehicle, their vessel, and its fate is inextricably bound up in theirs” (517). There are numerous instances, as Chevalier and Gheerbrant note, where the horse is tied to the imagery of the sun (the horse pulls the sun across the sky), the moon (the horses biological rhythms mimic the moon’s regular cycles) and the Underworld: “Habituated to the darkness, clairvoyant, it performs the role of guide and intercessor, in other words, of a conductor of souls” (517-526).

Critics may argue that the horses in Black Elk’s vision are nothing more than natural images (Black Elk was a horse rider from his very youth) taking on symbolic powers within his own psyche. Of course this is true, but as each set of horses emerge from the horizon each takes on a particular quality: the horses of the west are black and full of lightning and thunder (an image of the Underworld), the horses of the north are white and ablaze (an image of the Sun), the horses of the east are directly compared to the daybreak star (an image of the sphere of stars), and the horses of the south are horned with trees and grasses (mimicking the horned, crescent Moon and its growing phases duplicated upon the Earth). It is no surprise that eventually all the horses change into all the living things of the world. What we have here is a cosmogenesis akin to the opening verses of the Holy Bible, where Elohim creates the world out of chaos by aligning and demarcating the four directions (the tree with the four rivers), fashioning the cycles of the stars, sun, and moon, and creatures of every kind (Genesis 1&2). The spirit guides have taken Black Elk to the center of sacred space and have shown him the creation of the world, which is an initiatory act instructing the neophyte on how a new creation may begin.

Next, Black Elk is taken to the center of centers, a kind of Holy of Holies, where rests a grand tepee with a rainbow at its door. Dwelling within are the six Grandfather’s, one for each of the cardinal directions, one for the sky, and one for the Earth. In ritual fashion, each Grandfather speaks to Black Elk, giving him a sign or token by which he can continue his journey through the cosmic setting. These tokens are not arbitrary, and again the coincidental connection of at least some of them to the ancient mystery systems is noted. For example, the Grandfather of the West (of the Underworld or the place where the soul goes after death) gives Black Elk a holy cup filled with water commenting that within it is “the power to make live,” as well as a bow with “the power to destroy” (20). These tokens are very important. Later, as Black Elk starts down a black and fearful road where there was a “sick green light” and where the hills, grasses, and animals were all afraid, he comes upon a terrible boundary:
We [Black Elk and the black horses of the West] came above a place where three streams made a big one–a source of mighty waters–and something terrible was there. Flames were rising from the waters and in the flames a blue man lived. The dust was floating all about him in the air, the grass was short and withered, the trees were wilting, two-legged and four-legged beings lay there thin and panting, and wings too weak to fly. (25)

This was a place of water, of fire, and of terror. It was also a kind of gate that Black Elk had to pass in order to find his people and the center of his village (26). All the horses about him charged the blue man who was surrounded by flames and water, but to no avail, and they cried out for Black Elk’s aid: “And all the world was filled with voices of all kinds that cheered me, so I charged. I had the cup of water in one hand and in the other was the bow that turned into a spear [...]” (25). It is with these tokens that Black Elk prevails against this strange creature who himself had abject power over the equestrian host.

This whole scene is reminiscent of a number of myths detailing a passage through fire and water in order to obtain a correct passage through the Underworld. Indeed, in the 126th chapter of the Egyptian Book of the Dead the initiate who seeks to dwell as a god learns that Osiris dwells in a space whose ceiling is of fire and whose floor is of running water (Budge 175). To enter into this realm presumes one must pass through these cosmic aspects. The classicist Hugh Nibley cites Cyril of Jerusalem (386 AD) who instructs new converts into the Christian mysteries that just such a journey in the afterlife was required: “O God, thou has tested us [...]; thou hast led us into the trap [...]. We have come through fire and water, and thou hast led us to a resting place” (286). With no small irony, then, does Moses lead the Israelite host out of Egypt to Mount Sinai and the burning bush, only after crossing an impenetrable sea and a pillar of fire (Exodus 14). In each of these cases certain tokens are needed, Ani required the correct words of power, Cyril declared it was the secret ordinances, Moses used his rod.

With Black Elk his tokens are a bow and cup of water. Another curious coincidence shows up in the Hindu epic Mahabharata, where the entire Pandavas host, wave after wave, is slaughtered by the terrible Bhishma, and only Arjuna saves the war with his bow, showering the enemy with thousands of arrowheads. In a slight reversal, Bhishma falls and asks for a drink of water whereby Arjuna shoots an arrow in the ground and water springs forth, which is collected in a holy cup and given to the fallen foe (Buck, 267-269). Similarly, Black Elk slays the blue man with his bow, but no detail is given as to why he needs the cup of water. Guthrie gives us a hint in citing the Orphic tradition that the deceased were required to partake of a particular spring of water in order to pass the correct boundary which led to Elysian Fields. “For the general belief that the dead are thirsty and in urgent need of water” Guthrie writes, “we have references which though not frequent are sufficient to indicate that it must have been widely held and not a peculiar tenet of the Orphics” (Guthrie 177). Black Elk’s cup and bow are the sacred tokens which allow him passage through fire and water and the Underworld and gain him access to the promised land.

Just so the fourth Grandfather gives Black Elk a red rod, a budding tree which is to be planted at the intersection of two roads, the black and red pathways to immortality, leading north-south and east-west. Each direction represents an ascent, and so declares the fourth Grandfather, “In four ascents you shall walk the earth with power” (23). In Ellen Russell Emerson’s fascinating article The Book of the Dead and Rain Ceremonials Emerson recounts an old Peruvian ritual where two ropes were thrown across a sacred lake. The ropes were crossed, forming equal angles, demarcating the four directions by two roads. The prince would paddle to the intersection of the ropes and immerse himself in the waters, where two priests would appear covered in fishnets, a symbol of death and the Underworld, and perform a holy ceremony (257-258). As stated the two roads are two axis: north-south and east-west, constituting the four world corners or pillars. These four corners were abstracted into four initiatory spaces within Ojibwa Indian Mide-wegan lodges: Emerson writes, “In the Indian ‘lodges’ the four spaces are typified severally by the posts erected, their number and decoration being sign of degrees of initiation–milestones, as it were, marking the journey on the path of life” (239). These posts are aligned along an east-west axis collecting the rays of the rising and setting sun, a symbol of birth and death, and then again of death and resurrection. Emerson cannot help but to compare the ritual sacred space of the Mide-wegan lodges to the four layered temples of ancient Egypt which had the same east-west axis and four-stepped initiatory path:

The stepped figure is a common hieroglyphic in Egyptian writing; but it is an interesting fact in this connection that the figure is especially ascribed to Ptah, the Egyptian’s primordial god, who is apostrophised in Egyptian hymns as the “Father of Fathers,” “the Maker.” His office in the under world is to unite the substances of the human corpse, and in this capacity he is represented on a platform approached by four steps. [...] It has been said that Ptah unites the substances of the corpse, and in this capacity the stepped figure becomes his especial emblem; and in this connection it should be remembered that the same emblem identifies Isis who, like the Tusayan rain deities, wears the stepped figure upon her head. (252)

In less than a third of Black Elk’s vision is unveiled the fundamental connections this revelation has with ancient cosmology in relation to the cycles of birth, death, and resurrection, and in particular to the ancient mystery systems whose entire goal was to teach the initiate the path of life after death. Critics of this approach will argue that pulling in so many varied sources “out of context” may be an attempt to conceptualize my own theory from the quoted traditions. While acknowledging this objection, one would have to be as blind as Oedipus to miss the cosmic scale of Black Elk’s vision, with it’s cosmogonic symbolism and other-world imagery. This thesis asserts that Black Elk’s great vision does not deal with his immediate circumstances, an interpretation the wise holy man himself made, but with cosmic time and space: his people walking the path of four ascents through the four grand world ages onwards towards their own celestial center and destiny. This interpretation is born from the realization that mythogenesis is for the species and deals with transcendent time and has as its subject and source the immortality of the soul. Modern exegesis cannot at all comprehend how an Apache named Silas John could come up with a brand new, coherent, and ingenious written language in a single night. Black Elk’s vision may very well give us a peek into the origins of mythology itself. It may not have come from our evolutionary models of long ages of brutish minds slowly describing the world, even in a sacred manner, in story form. On the contrary, mythology may have appeared like a thunderclap in a primal revelation such as this Great Vision, demarcating sacred time and space and teaching the first high-priest mythologist the path of the soul. What better argument for this idea than Black Elk’s own words?

[...] I looked ahead and saw the mountains there with rocks and forests on them, and from the mountains flashed all colors upward to the heavens. Then I was standing on the highest mountain of them all, and round about beneath me was the whole hoop of the world. And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being. And I saw that sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy. (33)

Works Cited

Basso, K. H. and Ned Anderson, "A Western Apache Writing System: The Symbols of Silas John," Science 180, no. 4090 (8 June 1973): pp. 1013-22.

Brundage, Burr Cartwright. The Phoenix of the Western World: Quetzalcoatl and the Sky Religion. Norman: U of Oklahoma P, 1981.

Buck, William. Mahabharata. Los Angeles: U of California P, 1973.

Budge, E. A. Wallis. Egyptian Religion: Ideas of the Afterlife in Ancient Egypt. New York: Gramercy Books, 1959.

Campbell, Joseph. The Flight of the Wild Gander. Chicago: Regnery Gateway Inc., 1969.

– The Hero with a Thousand Faces. New York: Princeton UP, 1973.

Chevalier, Jean and Alain Gheerbrant. The Penguin Dictionary of Symbols. Trans. by John Buchanan-Brown. New York: Penguin Putnam Inc., 1996.

Emerson, Ellen Russell. “The Book of the Dead and Rain Ceremonials,” The American Anthropologist, July 1894: pp. 233-259.

Guthrie, W. K. C. Orpheus and Greek Religion. London: Metheun & Co., 1952.

The Holy Bible, King James Version, 1992.

Krupp, E. C. Echoes of the Ancient Skies: Astronomy of the Lost Civilizations. New York: Oxford UP, 1983.

Milbrath, Susan. Star Gods of the Maya: Astronomy in Art, Folklore, and Calendars. Austin: U of Texas P, 1999.

Nibley, Hugh. The Message of the Joseph Smith Papyri: An Egyptian Endowment. Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1975

Niehardt, John and Black Elk. Black Elk Speaks. Lincoln: U of Nebraska P, 1972.

Robinson, Andrew. Lost Languages: The Engigma of the World’s Undeciphered Scripts. New York: McGraw Hill, 2002.

Posted by john at June 23, 2006 02:33 PM