Reuniting the Waters: The Headwaters
Each headwaters ceremony has exposed deeper layers of understanding about this continuous prayer to heal the Colorado River from source to sea.
July 11, 2026 (T’zi) — Colorado River Headwaters, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado
In the Mayan calendar, the day T’zi (pronounced Tzee) empowers law, authority, and justice. It is an auspicious moment to pray for a profound shift in the hearts and minds of the decision-makers whose policies dominate the Colorado River Basin. Though I have lived near the headwaters of the Colorado for two decades, I had never traveled up Poudre Canyon to the northern boundary of Rocky Mountain National Park with the sole, focused intention of honoring her source. Moving with the grounding energy of T’zi, I asked for its help to re-center human governance around genuine justice for the river.
It was only while walking the half-mile dirt road along the Grand Ditch—which pierces the national park boundary—in search of La Poudre Pass Lake that the tragic reality landed: the natural headwaters of the Colorado River no longer exist. The water from her birth streams is entirely diverted into a different watershed—the very watershed I inhabit.
The first concrete diversion canal channels water from the Never Summer Range on the opposite side of the Continental Divide. From there, it is a short walk across the park boundary and the canal to a flat, marshy meadow formerly known as La Poudre Pass Lake. It is no longer a lake, but a series of shallow pools fed by groundwater, supporting quiet yellow pond lilies among the wet grass.
On the opposite side of this thirsty meadow, cascading down the steep mountain slopes, lies Specimen Creek. Nature designed it to feed the womb of the river. Instead, it is captured directly into a culvert—stolen from the river’s source before she can even give birth to the lifeblood of the American Southwest.
The disrespect of human supremacy is palpable here. Mother Nature’s design would slow the mountain stream, pooling it into a shallow lake to nurture a rich web of life forms before gravity carries the languid water west. Instead, the culvert forces the water quickly east, leaving La Poudre Pass Lake to gasp for whatever moisture it can draw from the ground, like a newborn denied its mother’s milk. This concrete reality directly defies the National Park Service mandate to “preserve unimpaired the natural and cultural resources and values of the National Park System for the enjoyment, education, and inspiration of this and future generations.”
The ditch was carved in the late 1800s, an era when the settler-colonial mindset of human domination over the Earth ran rampant across the West—wholly blind to the wisdom of the Native peoples who have lived in reciprocal, interwoven relationship with this land and water since time immemorial.
Ten of us gathered to pray and sing. We offered our first repair ceremony here, gathering water from Specimen Creek into a copper bowl and carrying it in a prayer walk across the drying wetland to where it pools at the far end. We offered the Colorado River her own stolen headwaters—a small suture of spiritual reconnection. We prayed for forgiveness for the human ego that denies her the sovereign right to flow by her own ancient wisdom.
We also offered her water brought from the Sea of Cortez to honor the cycle of atmospheric moisture when the system is whole. Knowing that the river no longer reaches the ocean, and that the headwaters themselves are stolen, the weight of it struck me: the mighty river that carved the Grand Canyon over millennia is shrinking and dying from both ends. Drastic shifts in human consciousness are required. Left-brained engineering will not save us in an era of rapid climate breakdown; it is time for humans to step out of the way and allow Mother Nature to heal herself.
We arrived at Green River Lakes on the western slopes of Wyoming’s Wind River Range on the Mayan calendar day of Imox (pronounced ee-mo-sh), an energy that governs water, breaks structural barriers, and expands human consciousness. Here, protected within national forest and pristine wilderness boundaries, Mother Nature’s wisdom guides the snowmelt slowly through an intact headwater system.
The steep creeks falling down the Wind River Range pool into gentle gradients, forming a languid, meandering stream through marsh grasses that eventually widens into a vast lake. Gathering the collective energy of the surrounding drainages, the water moves toward a narrow channel, launching a downstream flow that births a living river. This sacred womb is intact.
Knowing this water represents vital hope for the Colorado River system operating under a litany of human constraints, we offered more ocean water. We called on Imox to carry our songs to the spirit of the river, letting her know that humanity is waking up to the error of its ways. We prayed for her to guide us back into right relationship—to take down the concrete dams in human consciousness, liberate us from patterns of greed and hierarchy, and return us to humility and interdependence.
August 20, 2026 (T’zi) — San Juan River Headwaters, Wolf Creek Pass, Colorado
A funny thing happened on the way to the San Juan headwaters: I blew out a tire just as I crested the top of Wolf Creek Pass. It felt as though Mother Nature herself threw a rock into the road to force me to stop. I had been operating out of a tight schedule and a busy human to-do list, rushing to get the ceremony done and head home.
“Oh no you don’t,” she seemed to say. “Slow down. Be present. Pay attention.”
Waiting twenty-four hours for a replacement tire provided ample time to map the West and East Forks of the San Juan River in search of a ceremonial site above all human diversions. The San Juan is born where these two creeks meet. Aerial maps revealed the clear, heart-shaped topography of their confluence, yet we could not reach it. A private property line enclosed the area. Only a culture severed from its connection to the living Earth would allow such a sacred site to be bought, sold, and cordoned off. I looked up at the timber gate featuring a wealthy brand logo—a symbol of elite mountain cravings, lost in the illusion of ownership. This particular strain of human delusion is stamped across the Rocky Mountain watersheds.
My friend Angela and I attempted an approach from three different directions—upstream along both branches and from downstream—but access to the confluence remained blocked. Undeterred, we established a ceremonial site along the East Fork. Once more, we called upon the energy of T’zi to guide our prayers toward those who claim to own a confluence, asking that they remember their humble place within the web of life. We prayed for decision-makers to expand their definition of law and justice to include the inherent Rights of Nature—to exist and flow as designed by a power far greater than the human mind.
I invite all of you into this prayer ceremony with me by following the journey on the Ancestral Streams social media accounts:
Follow on Facebook | Follow on Instagram
You are all invited to pray the dams down with us.