By RoseMary Diaz

Growing up in Santa Clara Pueblo, I listened to my grandmother tell the stories of our Tewa ancestors. From her I learned about how the Old Ones came from the north and built their homes in sandstone cliffs and atop high desert mesas of the Southwest; how they nurtured close relationships with the land and the animals and plants who also call it home; how they learned to read the weather and the seasons, hunt, and plant crops of beans, squash, and corn in a rainbow of sacred colors; how they shaped a rich legacy of language, song, and dance; and how they developed complex cosmocentric ceremonial and religious constructs that continue to define Tewa culture and belief today.

These stories, based on the knowledge acquired over many generations of Tewa history, taught me that the survival of the Pueblo people has always depended on our understanding of the cosmos. We live in accordance with the harmonies and rhythms of the natural world, including those that orchestrate themselves into symphonies in the skies.

From my grandmother’s stories I also learned that to know something of the skies and the stars, and constellations in them, is to know something of my own beginnings, and possibly my future.

Makowa: The Worlds Above Us at the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture (MIAC) opened in June and offers a similar opportunity to learn about our connection to the planets and stars, and our unique place in the vastness of the universe.

Within this vastness twinkle the eighty-eight constellations officially recognized by the International Astronomical Union, many of which are based on mythological traditions from ancient Greek and Middle Eastern civilizations. These include the formations we recognize as the astrological signs of the zodiac, and others that are known across different Indigenous communities as the Dog Stars (the Little Dipper), the Standing Still Star (the North Star), the Seven Sisters (the Pleiades), and the They Go With Someone in a Canoe Star (the Big Dipper) (a coded reference to the Big Dipper is in the American folksong, “The Drinking Gourd,” which alludes to the asterism as a celestial guide used by escaped enslaved people on the Underground Railroad to find the North Star and travel to freedom). The Cherokee refer to the Milky Way as Gili Ulisvsdanvy, meaning “where the dog ran;” the Navajo call it Yikáísdáhá, or “that which awaits the dawn;” and the Lakota know it as Wanagi Yata, or “The Place of Spirits.” And although many of us know and have observed these familiar constellations, among others, Makowa tells the stories of the stars in a new light.

Makowa was conceived and initiated just before the COVID-19 pandemic by MIAC’s former Deputy Director Dr. Matthew Martinez (Ohkay Owingeh), and former Curator of Archaeology Dr. Maxine McBrinn. It has finally been brought to fruition and was co-curated by MIAC’s current Deputy Director Dr. Elisabeth Stone, and artist, performer, and Jemez Historic Site Instructional Coordinator Supervisor Marlon Magdalena (Jemez Pueblo). The exhibition is a look into Indigenous understandings and interpretations of the cosmos, anchored by the Western empirical constructs of science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) research and findings. Following its run at MIAC, Makowa will travel to rural and tribal communities in New Mexico.

“Makowa is a juxtaposition of Indigenous ways of being in the world and scientific methods that are rooted in cultural knowledge versus Western ways of being in the world and Western knowledge,” says Stone, who grew up in Socorro and has a background in community education. “These ideas are not necessarily in conflict or opposition,” adds Stone. They encourage a “close looking” at both sources and histories of acquired knowledge.

“Our [vision] was to expand on the idea that astronomy is not just about nighttime observations of the sky,” says Magdalena. “I wanted it to include everything else in the observable space above us [to illustrate how] everything is connected—the clouds, the rain, the birds, the stars, the sun, the moon, everything in the sky. People have a sense of curiosity [about] what is in the universe and have continually observed the worlds above us to make sense of the world they live in.”

During summer visits to Santa Clara Canyon, where I spent long, warm days and starlit evenings with my grandparents, my grandmother’s stories continued. With her hand, she traced the shape of a half-moon against the sky, just visible beneath a thin veil of late afternoon clouds, and spoke of how the Old Ones held P’ho Quio (Grandmother Moon) as sacred because from her all life was brought forth. The Hopi call her Toho’osmuya, said Grandmother, which translates to “Wind Moon” and reflects the Hopi understanding of the moon’s relationship to the earth’s wind and seasons. Grandmother knew many Hopi words because the Tewa and the Hopi are related.

Storytelling, which Magdalena says, “gives us a perspective from people of the past, where these stories came from, handed down from generation [to] generation,” is also an important component of Makowa. It offers some foundational reference to the origins and development of Indigenous oral histories and cosmologies and literally gives voice to our Pueblo ancestors who sky watched and stargazed from these sacred lands so long ago.

As the day folded into night, Grandmother spoke about how we are connected to the stars and how our ancestors looked to the sky for direction as they traveled across the wind-blown deserts during their great walks from the north. We are part of everything that is above us, she said, as she looked up into the infinity of an ever-darkening night sky.

“It is theorized, supported by cultural narratives, that storytelling, often referred to as the oral tradition, was the principal method of the transference of acquired knowledge, history, immergence, lineage, skill sets, heritage, societal core values, existential constructs, language, and all components of what defines the human condition,” says Jon Ghahate (Laguna Pueblo/Zuni Pueblo), a historical, cultural, and STEM public speaker and staff educator at Crow Canyon Archaeology Center in Cortez, Colorado. “And just as it is in many Indigenous communities today, perhaps there were those born into ancestral civilizations who were entrusted with the responsibility [of being] storytellers—those who were charged with making sure… knowledge and/or information was passed along to future generations. It was their contribution as part of a community.”

Everything is knowable if we look to the sky, said Grandmother, pointing to Agoyo T’se—Yellow Star—or Venus, the brightest star in the night sky. The Old Ones knew of this star, she said, and named their daughters in honor of her. One day, if you have a daughter, you can name her Agoyo T’se, so she will always be connected to the stars and to the Tewa people.

“For contemporary Pueblo and other Indigenous societies, storytelling remains an integral connection to ancestral societies,” says Ghahate. And he continues, storytelling “gives them their sense of place… in the world. So, it is the responsibility of the storyteller(s) to be accurate and authentic.”

On the fourth day of my daughter’s life, my grandmother prepared the naming bowl. She filled the clay vessel with water, into which she sprinkled cornmeal the color of gathering storm clouds. Grandmother wrapped the child in a finely woven wool blanket and carried her outside and into the waiting dawn. Holding the naming bowl close, I followed them toward the first rays of the rising sun.

Ghahate, who works with students to develop “accurate, credible, and respectful narratives of Southwest cultures,” will share stories and “make connections among Indigenous ways of knowing and Western sciences” via a short video produced by award-winning documentarian, Kaela Waldstein, Makowa’s official videographer. The video is part of a series in the exhibition that features personal interviews with several Native interviewees from various backgrounds and perspectives, “speaking to their personal experience with the stars and/or [sharing] cultural stories,” says Waldstein. Additionally, Waldstein has created a separate Career Journeys video series featuring exhibition contributors that will serve as a traveling curriculum in schools, community centers, and other organizations in Pueblo, tribal, and rural areas of the state and broader Southwest.

It is important to understand that “the application of Western science is no different from Indigenous acquired or learned knowledge,” says Ghahate. “There was science here, too, but we don’t give the same quantification to certain cultures. The difference between the terms ‘Indigenous acquired knowledge’ and ‘Western science’ is the empirical effort to quantify, label, and explain the principles of science, but keep in mind, Indigenous peoples have practiced science since they originated on Turtle Island. [And] today, no matter what profession we choose, we are utilizing the same science principles that countless Indigenous peoples have used for multiple millennia.”

Grandmother dipped a small, white shell into the bowl and filled it with some of the cornmeal water; she placed the tip of the shell into her great-granddaughter’s mouth and asked the Creator to bless the child with a long and healthy life. I give you this name, Agoyo T’se, Grandmother said as she dipped the shell into the bowl and into the newborn’s mouth again. She did this four times in acknowledgement of each cardinal direction. Now you are part of the Pueblo people, said Grandmother. You were born of and for this place, you belong to it and it belongs to you.

“Science is science, and science principles and constructs were in the cosmos long before humankind appeared on this planet,” says Ghahate. “The formation of this cosmos is science. Through science we know when the sun, the moon, the stars, and any other life form on this planet and [within] other celestial bodies were formed. It is through scientific evidence, measured and quantified, that the age of our universe, or multi-verse, [was determined].”

Like in ancient Greece, Rome, and Britain, Indigenous peoples closer to home were guided by the cosmos, as recorded in the countless cave paintings, petroglyphs, and pictographs they created, specifically, in the American Southwest. Some examples of these important works can be seen at numerous sites in New Mexico, including Boca Negra Canyon, Petroglyph National Monument, and the Three Rivers Petroglyph Site.

As Grandmother poured the last shell of water into the child’s mouth, she prayed over her in Tewa. She offered some of the cornmeal to the mountains and prairies, to the oceans and lakes, to T’han sedo—Father Sun—and P’ho Quio, our Grandmother Moon, and to the sky and the worlds above us. The Old Ones knew the stories of the stars and the worlds above us, said Grandmother, and they lived by these knowings.

“Different cultures have created their own understandings, their own interpretations of a creator, the creation, and the origin of all that is,” says Ghahate. “We have attempted to understand our world [and] ourselves. My hope is that this exhibit will inspire [visitors] to wonder about the Sun and its power, and about how of all the galaxies among countless galaxies, we, so far, are the exception [as humans] only because of Earth’s position, orbit, tilt, mass, and magnetic fields.”

Ghahate thinks the exhibition will appeal to both science buffs—those who can associate higher levels of STEM constructs into how humans exist on this planet—and those who will see the beauty of the culture, the art, the creativity, and the ingenuity of [Indigenous] art and design. “This may then translate into envisioning or seeing how we have evolved our culture, language, and existential constructs; basically, how humankind has evolved on this planet,” says Ghahate.

They knew of the phases of the moon and the cycle of the sun, and of distant planets yet to be discovered. And you too will know these things; you will know the ways of the Old Ones, Grandmother said to Agoyo T’se.

Another contributor to Makowa is Dr. Cherilynn Morrow, an award-winning science educator. She currently serves as the designer and director of the public engagement program that has been immersed in NASAS’s PUNCH (Polarimeter to Unify the Corona and Heliosphere) mission, which will, according to NASA, “make global, 3D observations of the sun’s outer atmosphere and how it becomes the solar wind” over two years.

Dr. Morrow’s outreach theme for PUNCH is “ancient and modern Sun-watching,” which honors the long cultural heritage of Native American skywatchers in the Southwest. The theme centers on “learners’ personal awareness of both ancestral practices and NASA missions,” and demonstrates NASA’s continued exploration of the sun as “a natural extension of humanity’s age-old dedication to observing and learning to live in harmony with the rhythms and mysteries of our nearest star.” Makowa will feature Dr. Morrow’s tactile interactives, digital interactives, and other information from PUNCH.

And you will know the ways of the Pueblo people; you will know the stories of how we were created from the stars and of how we will return to the stars.

Misha Pipe (Navajo/Assiniboine/Gros Ventres), the Native American Astronomy Program (NAAOP) Coordinator at Lowell Observatory, is also a contributor. Pipe holds a bachelor’s degree in Parks and Recreation Management from Northern Arizona University and is an educator who incorporates first languages into her instruction. She is one of the featured interviewees for the exhibition’s video series.

The methods and means of Indigenous storytelling have changed over millennia, from the campfire tales told by Puebloan ancients under the night skies so long ago to today’s high-tech podcasts and livestreams, and, of course, museum exhibitions. Still, the fundamental purpose of storytelling—to preserve and perpetuate acquired knowledge (science) for subsequent generations—remains central to keeping us connected to Tribe and culture and to navigating our way into the future.

As she grew into childhood, Agoyo T’se also listened to Grandmother tell the stories of our Tewa ancestors, just as she had told them to me when I was young. From Grandmother she learned about how the Old Ones came from the north; how they learned to hunt, build, and plant to coax life from the dry, desert soil; how they sang and danced and created our Pueblo religion and ways of being.

“In our attempts to interpret our environment, our cosmos, we are not [alone],” says Ghahate. “If we allow ourselves to be open to the contributions of other societies and civilizations and their interpretations of how others perceive their place in the cosmos, perhaps we, as a human species, can focus more on the commonalities among us rather than the differences between us.”

From Grandmother’s stories my daughter also learned that to know something of the skies and the stars and constellations in them is to know something of her own beginnings, and possibly her future, just as I had learned years before.

Makowa unfolds in its entirety through several of MIAC’s large gallery spaces and comprises interactive panels, star charts and calendars, photographs of the sun and moon, and important open-desert and Chacoan petroglyphs. A traditional Jemez morning prayer is quoted near the entrance to the exhibition. Makowa also includes a selection of original art works by local Native artists, including painter George Toya (Jemez Pueblo), photographer and videographer Steven Yazzie (Diné), and Kathleen Wall (Jemez Pueblo), whose hand-coiled ceramic figurine from her Koshare Stars series greets visitors with a smile and a trio of four-pointed stars. Waldstein’s video series is viewable in the museum’s media room.

Waldstein, who owns and operates Mountain Mover Media, comes to the project with a culturally sensitive and respectful voice, having much experience in co-telling the stories of Indigenous artists. “I was thrilled when I was asked to contribute to this exhibition with a series of videos,” says Waldstein. “We can get really wrapped up in the drama taking place here on Earth, and opening our minds up to a wider perspective is something that most of us desperately need right now. I love how the exhibit embraces how many perspectives there can be when it comes to finding meaning [in the stars]. And it’s not just about the stars, it’s also about how we connect to what is right here, right now. I feel that hearing the voices of those telling their stories provides a resonance that also adds to [the] exhibit’s overall impact. I hope I can help these voices convey their messages in a way that connects deeply with visitors to the museum.”

These stories, voices, and messages have arrived at a good time and the connections they forge are apropos given the fragile state of our planet and all it holds. With a unique alignment of planets occurring in 2025, “we’re living in an astronomically unique time,” says Stone, “and lots of things are happening in the sky.” The sky and the objects that inhabit it “have things to teach us if we look with full attention,” concludes Stone. “Maybe it’s time for us to slow down and look up.”

She learned of how we were created from the stars and of how we will return to the stars. This is what the Old Ones knew, and this is what we believe.

Celestial events that will occur in 2025 include a total lunar eclipse on September 7; a partial solar eclipse on September 21; and numerous meteor showers, including the Delta Aquariids, July 30–31; the Perseids, August 12–13; the Orionids, October 21–22; the Leonids, November 17; the Ursids, in early December; and the Geminids, December 13–14. A major lunar standstill, a result of the rotation of the moon’s inclined orbit, which spans an 18.6-year cycle, is also part the celestial calendar. The standstill will be visible throughout the rest of the year, peaking again around the September equinox.

And now she too knows the ways of the Old Ones; she too knows the ways of the Pueblo people; she too knows of our connection to the stars.

“While many of us can use technology to learn about the stars, another way is to look to the sky and observe the worlds above us with our own eyes,” says Magdalena. “We want visitors to understand that [these] observations have helped shape the world they live in, and that everything is connected and works together. People of the past have looked to the sky for guidance and help, looking at the patterns of the days, nights, months, and seasons to make sense of the world around them and how they are connected to the worlds above. These observations have allowed many communities to survive.”

And the stories of our Tewa ancestors will continue to be told through her and through generations to come. 

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RoseMary Diaz (Santa Clara Pueblo) is a freelance writer based in Santa Fe. She studied literature and its respective arts at the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA), Naropa University, and the University of California, Santa Cruz.