In the mornings, when dawn breaks, Richardson Begay likes to hike out to visit the medicine. “You walk around,” he says. “Pray with it.” He’s standing on the porch of a small adobe house, whose pale peach walls turn into hammered sheets of gold with each rising of the sun. Around him stretch hundreds of acres of stubby mesquite trees and arid caliche.“Talk to it,” Begay continues. “Just like talking to a person. You know, how you talk to God. Creator.” His voice, faintly accented from his first language, Navajo, dips and rolls like the shrub-dotted hills in the distance. “You’re in the home of the medicine. It can hear you.”The medicine is peyote, a small, round, spineless cactus with psychoactive properties that has brought…
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