For decades we hosted a party for friends who come every August to attend, or sell, at Santa Fe Indian Market, the biggest event of its kind in the country. In the old days, upwards of 200 people would show up, some we knew, many we didn’t. It was a lot of fun and a lot of work, and we retired the party a few years ago. But this year we had Maori visitors Rina and Tai from New Zealand and decided to make a small comeback.

We reduced the guest list to about 30 hardcore original partygoers, mostly Native. Navajo friends came and made mutton stew and frybread, a staple of the event. A friend brought beef from his homeland in South Dakota, and we made sure that vegetarians did not go home hungry. Rina and Tai tried making fry bread, amid much laughter, and ate their share. Here was a handful of Indigenous people from opposite sides of the world, together, as friends, sharing stories, finding so much common ground.

As the party was winding down, Rina stood up to thank us all. She spoke in her native language and translated for us, saying how wonderful it was to be together, and how we should all come to New Zealand. Then, at six and a half feet tall, Tai stepped forward. He spoke a few words in Maori and then stopped. He lifted his hand and tapped his chest two or three times, and then tried to speak again, but no sound came out. He was choked up, with emotion. After more chest tapping, and more efforts, he explained – with some more tearful stops and starts — how moved he was to be here, how this was like a family, how valuable a family is, whether you are related or not, and how important it is to be together, to share food and stories, and to care for each other. It was a special experience for him and he was so grateful.

Then the three offered us the whale song, the women singing and swaying in front and Tai towering above them in back. At certain points, the women stopped singing, and Tai thrust his arm across his body as if to ward off – or demolish? — an enemy, stomped the ground with the fiercest shout you can imagine. I swear the ground shook. They alternated: the melodic, bubbly whale song and the warrior attack until the end.

I felt as if I had received a great gift. I saw a very masculine person showing both the very vulnerable and the very fierce parts of himself, neither part dominating, each part equally powerful. It is not news that we all, male and female and nonbinary, carry characteristics of both within us, that we are all capable of feelings and actions across the full spectrum, from melodic to earthshaking. But to see it demonstrated so openly and honestly was very moving to me.

The next morning as several of sat outside drinking coffee and eating fry bread, I received another gift. The men were talking about hunting and guns when Brooke, a young Navajo woman, broke in. I know her as a loving daughter, granddaughter and auntie. Her 6-year-old niece was with her and she was always aware of what she needed, helping her navigate this adult world. Brooke is also founder of a dog rescue program on the reservation dedicated to educating the community about spaying and neutering. Professionally, she is an investigator in child abuse cases for the state of New Mexico. That’s the Brooke I know.

But this Brooke had a story about elk hunting. She got her permit this year, took her Remington, and spent several days with no sitings. Then early one morning she hid near a reservoir and a whole herd came to drink.

 “A big elk stood right on top of the dam. It was a perfect shot. I had it in my sights….” At this point I was sure that this gentle, caring Brooke was going to say that at the last moment she couldn’t pull the trigger, the elk was so majestic, so beautiful, she couldn’t kill it. But the end of the story was “So I pulled the trigger and the gun jammed!” All the men are groaning in sympathy. “I was so mad! I tried to reload but he got away. It was a perfect shot!” The conversation, in which she was an active player, shifted to the frustration and danger of jamming guns. I learned a lot – about hunting, and about Brooke. A nurturing woman hunter. Here was another example of holding both sides, fully and comfortably.

Amid all the partying, good food, songs, stories and laughter, I am left with the memory of these two special people who showed me their full range, from one pole to the other. It’s a reminder to embrace and celebrate both ends of the spectrum, and everything in between, within ourselves and in others.