The Collective

As the film was rolling the world saw a split screen; they saw and heard the film, and at the same time they saw Joanna as she watched the film. Joanna didn’t know that the world was watching her. She had kind of grabbed onto the microphone-stand with both hands and leaned against it. She appeared so relaxed, down-to-earth, humble, and very wholesome. Her hair had slid down her tilted head and onto her face as she rested her cheek against the cool metal mike stand, and the world was enamored with her for the second time in just a few short minutes. The contrast between the reverent superhuman that was surrounded by hundreds of animals while healing the ailing sky, water and grasses - and the incredibly sweet and innocent young Native woman clutching the microphone-stand as she was just quietly being herself, was an overwhelming experience for nearly all who saw it. Each side of the screen somehow authenticated the other, and yet astonishingly presented both a paradox and its solution all at once. It was purity! It was truth and beauty! It was love! It was the most awesome display of real power ever seen in the modern era, and it was obviously being achieved by a very plain and ordinary young woman of color. It was so awesome that some had to turn away from the screen momentarily once they realized what they were seeing. The beauty of it was just too painful to take in all at once. Others watched with their mouths open and some with tears of joy streaming down their faces.