In my family's traditions we acknowledge even the sad or bad things as much as we might acknowledge the happy and good things. We don't look away from anything. We live like the buffalo and face the Tate topa (four winds). Assimilation Blues Grandmother, I am sad. Come, sit. Together we will be sad. Bowed heads, silently honoring the Sad. Sometimes a song, sometimes a story, Sometimes silence, Breathing the Sad, Heads bowed sitting with the Sad. The people come, Tonight we sing until the sun shows, Acknowledging Sad, its message received. Tomorrow we laugh and eat, Honoring the Sad; continuing life. Assimilation Mother, I am sad. Dont be sad. Have something sweet to eat, something pretty to buy, Forget the Sad. Assimilation Doctor, I am sad. Sad is not real. Have a pill, Hide the Sad. Assimilation Friend, I am sad. Tell me about it, details, details. Open the wound, Cleanse the Sad. Grandmother, where are you? There is no one to honor the Sad. Grandmother, I remember you. Now I am Alone, with the Sad. Alone, with the songs, Alone, the Sad grows great. Grandmother, where are you?
A long time ago the Bluebird's feathers were a very dull ugly colour. It lived near a lake with waters of the most delicate blue which never changed because no stream flowed in or out. Because the bird admired the blue water, it bathed in the lake four times every morning for four days, and every morning it sang:
There's a blue water.
It lies there.
I went in.
I am all blue.
On the fourth morning it shed all its feathers and came out in its bare skin, but on the fifth morning it came out with blue feathers.
All the while, Coyote had been watching the bird. He wanted to jump in and catch it for his dinner, but he was afraid of the blue water. But on the fifth morning he said to the Bluebird: "How is it that all your ugly colour has come out of your feathers, and now you are all blue and sprightly and beautiful? You are more beautiful than anything that flies in the air. I want to be blue, too."
"I went in only four times," replied the Bluebird. It then taught Coyote the song it had sung.
And so Coyote steeled his courage and jumped into the lake. For four mornings he did this, singing the song the Bluebird had taught him, and on the fifth day he turned as blue as the bird.
That made Coyote feel very proud. He was so proud to be a blue coyote that when he walked along he looked about on every side to see if anyone was noticing how fine and blue he was.
Then he started running along very fast, looking at his shadow to see if it also was blue. He was not watching the road, and presently he ran into a stump so hard that it threw him down upon the ground and he became dust-coloured all over. And to this day all coyotes are the colour of dusty earth.
to our elders who teach us our creation and our past so we may preserve mother earth for our anccestors yet own to our brothers and sisters and living thius acroos the earth he her beuiity is dissored ans denied the creator has indiviual the truth lies in our hands by robert robertson
This post was modified from its original form on 10 Jun, 19:22
This is a true strory about my aunt and uncle..
To do great things, everyone must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe in what they are doing.
Positive thoughts are very important. There is power in our thoughts and we can shape our lives through them. We always say and think what we would like our lives to be like this or like that. Once we know what we want we can follow the path much easier. We are given the means to become what we want to become, it´s just that sometimes it is a bit difficult for us to see this. If you are true to yourself you can accomplish a lot.Dare to dream big dreams..Everyone dreams but the problem is most dream too small..Seeing as how we all dream and a big dream costs no more than a small one.Why not dream big?
Take the necessary steps to make your dreams come true..Someone once told me to find a job doing what I loved to do and it would not be work but pleasure and I took their advice and they were right..Now I am retired and I work as much as I used to work only now I don't worry about getting get paid and don't worry about what time it is or keep schedules except for DR"s appointments to get physicals..I have not worn a watch for years because I can tell what time I need to know..I only need to know is it daytime or nighttime and I can tell that by simply opening my eyes..
I set my own pace which is probably different from others but it is comfortable for me..
One of my Dr's who treats my arthritis recommened I swim and bike and avised me to buy a bycycle either stationary or otherwise so I bought a mountain bike with 18 speeds and I ride it a lot and not only do I love the slower pace but enjoy being a part of the landscape instead of just driving through it...
There are many ways to keep both your mind and your body exercised,which is important for our health..
NEVER EVER PASS UP THE OPPORTUNITY TO TO TRY HELP SOMEONE..Not only will they receive a blessing from you but you will be blessed for helping them..
Have a great day and remember always be who you are without trying to be who you are not..If you are not who you want to be make some adjustments and become who you want to be..
When the World was young - A Blackfoot Legend
When the world was young, Old Man and Old Woman Coyote were walking around. "Let us decide how things will be," Old Man Coyote Said.
"That would be good," said Old Woman Coyote. "How shall we do it?"
"It was my idea so I'll have the first say" said Old Man Coyote.
"That is fine ," said Old Woman Coyote ."Just as long as I have the last say."
So for a while they walked around looking at things. Finally Old Man Coyote said something. "The men will be the hunters. Any time they want to shoot an animal they will call it and it will come."
"I too think men should be the hunters," said Old Woman Coyote. "But if the animals come so easily then life will be too easy for the people. The animals shall run away and hide. This will make it harder for the hunters but it will make them smarter and stronger."
"You have the last say," said Old Man Coyote.
They walked around some more and again Old Man Coyote said something. "I've been thinking about how people will look. They will have eyes on one side of their face and their mouth on the other. Their mouths will go up and down. They will have ten fingers on each hand."
"I too think that people should have their eyes and their mouth on their faces, but their eyes will be at the top of their face and their mouth at the bottom and they will be across from each other." Said Old Woman Coyote "and I agree they should have fingers, but ten on each hand will be too awkward. They will have 5 fingers on each hand."
"You have the last say," said Old Man Coyote.
They continued to walk and finally they were by the river when Old Man Coyote spoke. "Let us decide about life and death. I will do it this way. I will throw this buffalo chip into the river. If it floats then when people die they will come back to life after 4 days and live forever."
Old Man Coyote threw the chip in and it floated.
"I too think we should decide this way," Old Woman Coyote said. "But I we will use a stone instead of a buffalo chip. I will throw this stone in the river. If it floats then people will come back in 4 days and live forever. If it sinks then people will not come back to life after they die."
Old Woman Coyote threw the stone in the river and it sank.
"That is the way it should be," Old Woman Coyote said. "If people lived forever the Earth would get to crowded and there would not be enough food. This way people will learn compassion."
Old Man Coyote said nothing.
Some time passed. Old Woman Coyote had a child. She and Old Man Coyote loved the child a lot and they were happy.
One day, the child became ill and died. Then Old Woman Coyote went to Old Man Coyote.
"Let us have our say again about death," she said.
But Old Man Coyote shook his head." NO, you had the last say."
You Are Part Of Me
Lloyd Carl Owle (Cherokee)
You are part of me now
You touched me,
With your kindness and love
Your soft lips are kind.
Your eyes glow with life.
I'm glad you touched me,
You're part of me now.
This post was modified from its original form on 17 Mar, 14:19
A Blackfoot Legend
Old Man came from the south, making the mountains, the prairies, and the forests as he passed along, making the birds and the animals also. He traveled northward making things as he went, putting red paint in the ground here and there --arranging the world as we see it today.
He made the Milk River and crossed it; being tired, he went up on a little hill and lay down to rest. As he lay on his back, stretched out on the grass with his arms extended, he marked his figure with stones. You can see those rocks today, they show the shape of his body, legs, arms and hair.
Going on north after he had rested, he stumbled over a knoll and fell down on his knees. He said aloud, "You are a bad thing to make me stumble so." Then he raised up two large buttes there and named them the Knees. They are called the Knees to this day. He went on farther north, and with some of the rocks he carried with him he built the Sweet Grass Hills.
Old Man covered the plains with grass for the animals to feed on. He marked off a piece of ground and in it made all kinds of roots and berries to grow: camas, carrots, turnips, bitterroot, sarvisberries, bull-berries, cherries, plums, and rosebuds. He planted trees, and he put all kinds of animals on the ground.
When he created the bighorn sheep with its big head and horns, he made it out on the prairie. But it did not travel easily on the prairie; it was awkward and could not go fast. So Old Man took it by its horns, led it up into the mountain, and turned it loose. There the bighorn skipped about among the rocks and went up fearful places with ease. So Old Man said to it, "This is the kind of place that suits you; this is what you are fitted for, the rocks, and the mountains."
While he was in the mountains, he made the antelope out of dirt and turned it loose to see how it would do. It ran so fast that it fell over some rocks and hurt itself. Seeing that the mountains were not the place for it, Old Man took the antelope down to the prairie and turned it loose. When he saw it running away fast and gracefully, he said, "This is what you are suited to, the broad prairie."
One day Old Man decided that he would make a woman and a child. So he formed them both of clay, the woman and the child, her son.
After he had molded the clay in human shape, he said to it,"You must be people." And then he covered it up and went away. The next morning he went to the place, took off the covering, looked at the images, and said "Arise and walk." They did so. They walked down to the river with their maker, and then he told them that his name was Napi, Old Man.
This is how we came to be people. It is he who made us.
The first people were poor and naked, and they did not know how to do anything for themselves. Old Man showed them the roots and berries and said "You can eat these." Then he pointed to certain trees, "When the bark of these trees is young and tender, it is good. Then you can peel it off and eat it."
He told the people that the animals also should be their food. "These are your herds," he said. "All these little animals that live on the ground -- squirrels, rabbits, skunks, beavers, are good to eat. You need not fear to eat their flesh. All the birds that fly, these too, I have made for you, so that you can eat of their flesh."
Old Man took the first people over the prairies and through the forests, then the swamps to show them the different plants he had created. He told them what herbs were good for sicknesses, saying often, "The root of this herb or the leaf of this herb, if gathered in a certain month of the year, is good for certain sickness."
In that way the people learned the power of all herbs.
Then he showed them how to make weapons with which to kill the animals for their food. First, he went out and cut some sarvisberry shoots, brought them in, and peeled the bark off them. He took one of the larger shoots, flattened it, tied a string to it, and thus made a bow. Then he caught one of the birds he had made, took feathers from its wing, split them, and tied them to a shaft of wood.
At first he tied four feathers along the shaft, and with this bow sent the arrow toward its mark. But he found that it did not fly well. When he used only three feathers, it went straight to the mark. Then he went out and began to break sharp pieces off the stones. When he tied them at the ends of his arrows, he found that the black flint stones, and some white flint, made the best arrow points.
When the people had learned to make bow and arrows, Old Man taught them how to shoot animals and birds. Because it is not healthful to eat animals' flesh raw, he showed the first people how to make fire. He gathered soft, dry rotten driftwood and made a punk of it. Then he found a piece of hard wood and drilled a hole in it with an arrow point. He gave the first man a pointed piece of hard wood and showed him how to roll it between his hands until sparks came out and the punk caught fire. Then he showed the people how to cook the meat of the animals they had killed and how to eat it.
He told them to get a certain kind of stone that was on the land, while he found a harder stone. With the hard stone he had them hollow out the softer one and so make a kettle. Thus, they made their dishes.
Old Man told the first people how to get spirit power: "Go away by yourself and go to sleep. Something will come to you in your dream that will help you. It may be some animal. Whatever this animal tells you in your sleep, you must do. Obey it. Be guided by it. If later you want help, if you are traveling alone and cry aloud for help, your prayer will be answered. It may be by an eagle,
Wado Glenda for posting the following: I have transfered it to this thread which is set aside to post these type articles..We encourage all our members to post and if in doubt of where to post just do as GLenda and create a new topic and one of the group hosts will transfer it to the appropriate thread..Wado again Glenda for making the posting..
" Borrowed Time" 12:57 PM
Awakening a new dawn the Eagle has spread his wings
Time is of the essence here, what do you bring this spring
My baby chicks are chirping from the nest I built so high
I have watched over again and again to make sure they fall not from the
The clouds fill with darkness, sounds of thunder vibrates threw their nest
Wind,sleet and hail blowing their tiny chest
How secure is my babies, as I fly off to hunt for food
Where is their Mother, is she also lost too
My cries go unheard, now I know she is dead
For the Cold covered mountains has taken her instead
When I return to the nest that we both built so pure
Our babies have been snatched by darkness
What's left for me unsure
When all else takes flight on any journey I need
Making sure next time I Fly back home to see..
This post was modified from its original form on 10 Feb, 18:17
This post was modified from its original form on 10 Feb, 18:20
The Little People of the Cherokee are a race of Spirits who live in rock caves on the mountain side. They are little fellows and ladies reaching almost to your knees. They are well shaped and handsome, and their hair so long it almost touches the ground. They are very helpful, kind-hearted, and great wonder workers. They love music and spend most of their time drumming, singing, and dancing. They have a very gentle nature, but do not like to be disturbed.
Sometimes their drums are heard in lonely places in the mountains, but it is not safe to follow it, for they do not like to be disturbed at home, and they will throw a spell over the stranger so that he is bewildered and loses his way, and even if he does at last get back to the settlement he is like one dazed ever after. Sometimes, also, they come near a house at night and the people inside hear them talking, but they must not go out, and in the morning they find the corn gathered or the field cleared as if a whole force of men had been at work. If anyone should go out to watch, he would die.
When a hunter finds anything in the woods, such as a knife or a trinket, he must say, 'Little People, I would like to take this' because it may belong to them, and if he does not ask their permission they will throw stones at him as he goes home.
Some Little People are black, some are white and some are golden like the Cherokee. Sometimes they speak in Cherokee, but at other times they speak their own 'Indian' language. Some call them "Brownies".
Little people are here to teach lessons about living in harmony with nature and with others. There are three kinds of Little People. The Laurel People, the Rock People, and the Dogwood People.
The Rock People are the mean ones who practice "getting even" who steal children and the like. But they are like this because their space has been invaded.
The Laurel People play tricks and are generally mischievous. When you find children laughing in their sleep - the Laurel People are humorous and enjoy sharing joy with others.
Then there are the Dogwood People who are good and take care of people.
The lessons taught by the Little People are clear. The Rock People teach us that if you do things to other people out of meanness or intentionally, it will come back on you. We must always respect other people's limits and boundaries. The Laurel People teach us that we shouldn't take the world too seriously, and we must always have joy and share that joy with others. The lessons of the Dogwood People are simple - if you do something for someone, do it out of goodness of your heart. Don't do it to have people obligated to you or for personal gain.
In Cherokee beliefs, many stories contain references to beings called the Little People. These people are supposed to be small mythical characters, and in different beliefs they serve different purposes.
"There are a lot of stories and legends about the Little People. You can see the people out in the forest. They can talk and they look a lot like Indian people except they're only about two feet high, sometimes they're smaller. Now the Little People can be very helpful, and they can also play tricks on us, too. And at one time there was a boy. This boy never wanted to grow up. In fact, he told everyone that so much that they called him "Forever Boy" because he never wanted to be grown. When his friends would sit around and talk about: 'Oh when I get to be a man, and when I get to be grown I'm gonna be this and I'm gonna go here and be this,' he'd just go off and play by himself.
He didn't even want to hear it, because he never wanted to grow up. Finally his father got real tired of this, and he said,'Forever Boy, I will never call you that again. From now on you're going to learn to be a man, you're going to take responsibilty for yourself, and you're going to stop playing all day long. You have to learn these things. Starting tomorrow you're going to go to your uncle's, and he's going to teach you everything that you are going to need to know.' Forever Boy was broken hearted at what his father told him, but he could not stand the thought of growing up. He went out to the river and he cried. He cried so hard that he didn't see his animal friends gather around him. And they were trying to tell him something, and they were trying to make him feel better, and finally he thought he understood them say, 'Come here tomorrow, come here early.' Well, he thought they just wanted to say goodbye to him. And he drug his feet going home. He couldn't even sleep he was so upset. The next morning he went out
We were here first
(i-gv-ya o-gi-lu-tsv a-ha-ni)
Maybe the Cherokee cry
But we wanted their land
So they had to die
How could their rights
Have been explained?
The bow and arrow -
Against the gun ordained?
We took their homes -
They were mostly dead - when the deeds were done
What was theirs is ours - Yes! we have won
They had to die - we had no choice
Their punishment for owning - our land first
The Indians had been the custodians of the land.
(a-ni-yv-wi-ya o-s-da i-yu-nv-na-de-ga ga-do-hi)
But the cowboy turned the pastures into sand
And buffalo herds - very soon were damned
Sustainability was more the Indians way
a-ni-yv-wi-ya u-nv-sv a-na-li-s-de-li-s-gv.
But luxury to excess was more our "cup of tea"
We brought the Indians smallpox, pollution and T.B.
After two Hundred years we now see our wrongs
And we begin to listen to the Indian Songs
na-quu-no a-nv-da-di-s-do-di-quu i-ga
di-ga-ka-no-gi-s-do-di a-le i-ga-da
But sadly most of their tribes are gone
Now in the souvenir shops throughout the U.S.A
Indian proverbs are on display
Pictures of Geronimo, Sitting Bull and Chief Joseph
Are sort by tourist looking for proverbs and Indian motifs
Sayings of American Presidents are not bought
But Chief Red Cloud of the Sioux is eagerly sought
Why do we see the wisdom - yet our ancestors couldn't?
Or is it that they could - but wouldn't
The American Indians say
"There is one God looking down on us all"
Has the Native American salvation come at last
And will the "Great One" now be just.
Albert Gazeley © 2003
By : Les Tate
I stand silently beneath the pale sky
Overlooking the widening valley before me.
A footpath anchored in the roots of trees
Leads downward along the gray sandstone hillside.
The path follows the wall a short distance,
Winding gently past tall old trees.
In the rock ahead is a tall vaulted opening
Falling gently away to the back and sides.
Spirits of ages past call to me.
The bluff shelter stands at the head of the valley,
A natural cathedral echoing the sounds of the forest.
I enter in awe,
Wander quietly across the shadowed soil,
Exploring places where my ancestors
Worked and slept, laughed and loved.
Near the center stands a large block of stone,
A silent sentinel guarding the entrance,
Its surface inscribed with symbols
Of the sun, the snake, and the four directions.
Nearby I sit on a rock,
Its surface pitted from the breaking of nuts
And the drip of water from the ceiling's edge.
The firepit shows evidence of recent use.
Perhaps by someone like me,
A wanderer returning home.
I close my eyes and imagine I can hear
The sounds of old ones
Talking about the past and the future,
The men and women working at the day's chores
While they watch their children and grandchildren
Playing and laughing;
Later sitting quietly and listening,
Passing the history of our people
From generation to generation,
The old and the young together as a family, as a people,
Their stories and songs now held in the creviced wall.
I feel that I have been here before, that I belong,
Part of the past, part of the present.
A tear rolls down my cheek
Joining the spring rains which have begun to fall.
Gracefully and silently he moves through the nightÖthe wolf.
He is searchingÖbut for what he does not know.
There is somethingÖsomething specialÖuniquely HIS.
It must be there ñ For it is just like himÖalone.
He cries a woeful, lonesome cry.
There is no answerÖjust the echo of his pleas into the night.
He cries, " Is someone there?
Someone who cares? One like meÖalso alone? ".
Listen! The silence roars!
Looking. Searching. NeedingÖ
A yearning need.
Stop! Look. ListenÖ
Yes. YesÖHe hears it. His quiet companion.
It whispers in the darkness, " Here I amÖHere I am.
Do you see me? Do - you - see - me? Remember me? "
Gently and softly it caresses his sensesÖ " I am here.
Reach out to me. Sing to me. Feel me. Know meÖ Love meÖ
YesÖI too have need of you.
Remember me? Someone aloneÖjust like you ".
" Where? Where are you? ",
The lone wolf cries.
" Here. Let me caress your faceÖyour soul.
Sing to me your soothing love songÖ and I will bathe you with my presence."
" YesÖYes, I remember.
We are not aloneÖyou and meÖ
And to you, I gladly sing my song of love and longingÖ
My friendÖ my loverÖThe Moon ñ My Quiet Companion ".
By : T.W. Martindale (Sagwu Usdi)
This post was modified from its original form on 08 Oct, 8:07
By: T.W. Martindale
Life is but a vapor that soon fades away.
We are born into this world with nothing at all.
And our departure of this life will be as we came...
Leaving us to wonder, "What IS the point of my existence?"
It must be for other lonely souls we touch each day.
So many hurt just as we hurt AND feel as we feel.
Though oft times we're preoccupied and seem not to have time...
Touch them we must, with kind words and in deeds.
Many are they that wonder if they are worth anything at all.
We leave them feeling as a mere convenience OR inconvenience,
Just depending upon how our moods strike us each day...
This is no way to treat one another... It just should not be!
So reach out to someone and show them you care.
Leave each person you meet with the feelings of self worth.
Be kind to one another while opportunity still waits...
For life is a vapor that soon fades away.
Cry Freedom Freedom was a luxury once possessed by people native to this untamed land. These were a people created and placed here by Sovereign God Almighty. Yet...With the arrival of others who sought freedom from a cruel land in which they lived, the peace, tranquility, and freedom possessed by the native people of this land was forced from them with gun in hand. The new arrivals to this beautifully, peaceful home traveled here in search of freedom from oppression. Yet, their search for life and liberty deprived an innocent people of freedom and peace that was rightfully theirs. These strangers. . .No. . .Intruders who came to this New World marched with muskets in hand and took by brute force the peace, happiness, and dignity of life from those native to this country. Yes. . .The very possessions for which these newcomers sought were ruthlessly and without feeling of guilt forced from a peaceful and caring people so that they might proudly boast. . .and CRY FREEDOM !
Freedom was a luxury once possessed by people native to this untamed land. These were a people created and placed here by Sovereign God Almighty.
Yet...With the arrival of others who sought freedom from a cruel land in which they lived, the peace, tranquility, and freedom possessed by the native people of this land was forced from them with gun in hand.
The new arrivals to this beautifully, peaceful home traveled here in search of freedom from oppression. Yet, their search for life and liberty deprived an innocent people of freedom and peace that was rightfully theirs.
These strangers. . .No. . .Intruders who came to this New World marched with muskets in hand and took by brute force the peace, happiness, and dignity of life from those native to this country.
Yes. . .The very possessions for which these newcomers sought were ruthlessly and without feeling of guilt forced from a peaceful and caring people so that they might proudly boast. . .and CRY FREEDOM !
Text © 1998 T. W. Martindale. E-mail:
Image Adapted from the painting "Discovery of the Hudson River" by Alfred Bierdstadt, 1874.
By : Edward Ivan MadahbeeThe creator has only created life
It is not his duty to show us the way
We must guide ourselves through life
To truly be accepted into his arms
We should not have to ask for favors
And he should not have to provide them
What we take from our mother earth
We must give back with respect and love
Until we are able to accept who we are
We will always suffer at our own fate
We have to create our own destiny
Or does destiny create us?
Listen to the lulling sounds of the flute as it softly plays.
Hear it and imagine the tranquility of life that our loved ones once knew.
It was a land with a calm serenity.
Come with meÖ.Come to a land where each new day warmly embraces your soul.
A land kissed by the morning dew, and streams sparkling with ripples stirred by the finger of God.
Close your eyes and hear the sounds of silenceÖÖ.
A babbling brookÖthe rustling of leavesÖthe cry of the eagle, and soft beat of the drum.
As the sun kisses the night farewell, the younger men arise to greet the new day.
Joining them are the older boysÖ.For today they will learn how to huntÖ.and how to survive.
They master their skills and learn to coexist with the untamed land they call home.
This is not a time used for hunting and survival alone, but also a lesson to sharpen the senses.
They acquire the prowess of the wolf and the keen sight of the eagle and hawk.
Feel it as they savor a unique awareness and oneness with all creatures great and small.
Close your eyes and feel the soft caress of the windÖ.FEEL the presence of the wolf, eagle, and hawk!
As we turn our focus toward the camp, we see the children as they laugh and play.
Mothers look up from their work and the young to which they tendÖÖ.
They softly smile as they watch them frolic happily across the tender meadows.
Speaking of family, and recounting stories once told them, the elders sit and tell of days gone by.
As records are kept in diaries, they keep alive their memories and truths in the minds of their descendants.
This is their pastÖTheir presentÖ. AND their future.
Passed down from generation to generation, It is their life!
Theirs is a life not unlike the one we all desire.
It is a full life filled with happiness, loving, laughter and contentment.
They enjoy the soft, cool spring breezeÖ.and feel the soothing warmth of the sun on their skin.
Although the life they live is not entirely idyllic, it is their home.
YesÖ.Look around and seeÖ.Even then, as now, they too dealt with sickness and pain.
They too have loved ones that are ill and do what they must to restore health to the weak and frail.
Just like you and I, they stay by the deathbeds of ones they love and mourn death when it comes.
They were and ARE just like all others, yetÖ.Treated unlike ALL others.
Strangers have come to their Native Land and to strip them of their homes, family, and dignity.
They are so covetous of these wind kissed plains, cool flowing streams, and abundant wildlife.
Having done everythingÖ.ANYTHING within their power to take what rightfully belongs to another.
Sit and watchÖ.Feel the pain as their families are torn apartÖeven murdered!
They are forced into the harsh elements of nature as their homes are ruthlessly stolen from them.
YesÖÖAll these things we sat and watched, yet did nothing to end this insanity.
All of these things happened in a land where we proudly boast of freedom and dignity of life for all.
No one cared as these suffered and died cruel and unnecessary deaths as they tried to defend their homes.
These are OUR families and the hurt they endured should deeply seer our souls!
I do not hate. But I will always remember life as it should beÖÖÖ Remember the sounds of silenceÖÖ.
A babbling brookÖrustling leavesÖ the cry of the eagle, and the soft beat of the drum.
And I will listenÖListen to the lulling sounds of the flute as it still softly playsÖÖ.
For those who cried.
I have many friends many of whom are unregistered American Indians who use feathers in cermonies and in making American Indian crafts..A few of my friends have been fined and some have even been jailed for using birds of prey feathers in their sacred cermonies and in making crafts..
My question is thus!
Why were they fined and jailed for using the feathers? I shall tell you why!
They did it to themselves,each one of them did it by telling someone they were using eagle/hawk or owl feathers because if they had not,who would know?..They should have thought before they spoke or else kept mouths closed and if someone did ask them what kind of feather they were using they should have said a bird feather maybe a chicken or turkey feather and there would have been no problem..Anyone can purchase feathers to be used any way they wish from Walmart or Michaels or any of thousands of craft suppliers and can paint those feathers to look like any kind of bird feather..
Red Crow Trading Post, found online, sells some great painted feathers that look identical to eagle/hawk/wild turkey or any type of owl..Most American Indians including we who are registered use painted feathers instead of real birds of prey feathers because, to be honest,they look more real than the actual feather from a bird of prey..
There is no reason anyone should be fined or jailed for using bird feathers when anyone can use a bird feather they can buy from any craft supplier..
They can even use a feather to tickle their fancy or any thing else if the want to!
So next time someone asks you what type of feather you have just answer! A BIRD FEATHER.. Come to think of it..Aren't birds the only critters who have feathers? I can not think of anything else who has feathers!
What have you done to the native son?
Has freedom past him by?
Wasting time on a reservation,
can't help but to wonder why?
has he been left to die....
Home of the brave, land of the free...
Live aide, farm aide, no aide for me!!
Serving three years in a penitentiary
For wearing Eagle feathers in a ceremony...
Oh, say can you see
that the national bird is freer than me!!
Just take the land, "X" marks the spot..
Then let him stew In the melting pot!!
And maybe he'll forget the words
You promised a log time ago,
then he'll share the same fate
as the buffalo.
Enter The Butterfly
An insignificant creature am IÖ
I've nothing to boast but that I exist.
Thought quite unimportant, I can be more.
ComeÖ Look upon my pitiful form and you will seeÖ
I am looked down upon and sneered at by some.
Totally overlooked by others, I'm of no consequence at all.
Oh, meaningless wretch that I am! This is my life.
One day at a time, step by step, inch by inchÖI WILL BE MORE!
Having so little to offer, but I offer ALL that I am.
Asking what I have to give, I answer, "I give you me."
Not much am I now, but somedayÖ Somehow, I will be more.
Watch meÖ Tend to meÖ Nurture me, and you will see!
Slowly, but surelyÖ A day at a timeÖ I am changing.
I feel the growing pains come and retreat to my shell.
All who have laughed me to scorn believe to have proven their opinion of me.
ButÖ Deep inside my haven, the metamorphosis beginsÖ
Having withdrawn for but a while, I only waitÖ
In the world I have cocooned about myself, I am growingÖchanging.
Taking on the life of a recluse, I know not how long I must wait.
But after the storm of mocking and scorn, I will emerge and....Enter The Butterfly!
Awi Usdi, the Little Deer
~A Cherokee Story~
Back when the world was young, the humans
and the animal people could speak to each
At first they lived in peace. The humans hunted
the animals only when they needed food or skins
to make clothing. Then the humans discovered
the bow and arrow; with this weapon they could
kill many animals quickly and with great ease.
They began to kill animals when they did not
need them for food or clothing. It seemed as if
all the animals in the world would soon be
exterminated. So the various animals met in
When the bears came together and talked about
what the humans were doing, they decided they
would have to fight back...........
"How can we do that?" said one of the bear warriors.
"The humans will shoot us with their arrows before
we come close to them." Old Bear, their chief,
agreed, "That is true. We must learn how to use
the same weapons they use." Then the bears made
a very strong bow and fashioned arrows for it
but whenever they tried to use the bow, their long
claws got in the way..........
"I will cut off my claws," said one of the bear
warriors. He did so and then he was able to use
the bow and arrow. His aim was good and he
hit the mark every time........
"That is good," said Old Bear. "Now can you
climb this tree?" The bear without claws tried to
climb the tree but he failed. Old Bear shook
his head, "This will not do. Without our claws
we cannot climb trees. Without our claws we will
not be able to hunt or dig for food. We must give
up this idea of using the same weapons the humans
So the bears gave up their idea of fighting back
against the humans with weapons........
One by one each of the animal groups met. One
by one they came to no conclusion. It seemed
there was no way to fight back. But the last
group to meet was the deer........
Awi Usdi, Little Deer, was their leader. When
all were gathered together, he spoke.......
"I see what we must do," he said. "'We cannot stop
the humans from hunting animals. That is the way
it was meant to be, however, the humans are not
doing things in the right way. If they do not respect
us and hunt us only when there is real need, they
may kill us all. I shall go now and tell the hunters
what they must do. Whenever they wish to kill a
deer, they must prepare in a ceremonial way. They
must ask me for permission to kill one of us.
Then, after they kill a deer, they must show respect
to its spirit and ask for pardon. If the hunters do
not do this, then I shall track them down. With
my magic I will make their limbs crippled. Then
they will no longer be able to walk or shoot a bow
Then Awi Usdi, Little Deer, did as he said. He
went at night and whispered into the ears of the
hunters, telling them what they must do. The
next morning, when they awoke, some of the
hunters thought they had been dreaming and
they were not sure that the dream was a true
Others realized that Little Deer, Awi
Usdi, had truely spoken to them. They tried to
do as he told them. They hunted for the deer
and other animals only when they needed food
or clothing. They remembered to prepare in a
ceremonial way, to ask permission before killing
an animal and to ask pardon when an animal
Some of the hunters, though, paid no attention.
They continued to kill animals for no reason but
Awi Usdi, Little Deer, came to them and, using
his magic, crippled them with rheumatism. Before
long, all of the hunters began to treat the animals
with respect and to follow Little Deer's teachings.
So it is that the animals have survived to this
day. Because of Awi Usdi, Little Deer, the Indian
people show respect. To this day, even though
the animals and people no longer can speak to
each other as in the old days, the people still
show respect and give thanks to the animals
they must hunt........
In the Mountain is a Passage
Spiraling up to the />Soaring on an ancient Wind
There is a Winged-One flying by
Voices in the distance
From the Standing Ones called Trees
As they silently give their Wisdom
Through their Talking Leaves
In the Forest there's a clearing
A Fire Circle burning bright
Shadows softly whisper
Spirits dancing through the Night
Now in the Darkness
The Winged-One brings a Dream
The Howling in the distance
The WhiteWolf has been seen
On the Dawn of the Horizon
Creation starts a new Day
The Winged-One stops a moment
Its Song has much to say
Water glossy as a Mirror
Reflects on Someone's face
Then appeared Another
Passion's ripples leave their trace
Apparition on the surface
Goes floating softly by
The Image of Two Faces
Looking back up to the Sky
One saw the Feather
Gifted from the Eagle's Wing
Gave it to the Other
.. now the Dream can Sing.
I found this story: The Wooden Bowl
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year- old grandson.
The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.
The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and
failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor.
When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.
"We must do something about father," said the son.
"I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor."
So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner.
There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner.
Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.
When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone.
Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.
The four-year-old watched it all in silence.
One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor.
He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded,
"Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up.
" The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.
The words so struck the parents so that they were speechless.
Then tears started to stream down their cheeks.
Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.
That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table.
For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason,
neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.
On a positive note, I've learned that, no matter what happens, how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.
I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles
four things: a rainy day, the elderly, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.
I've learned that, regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life.
I've learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as making a "life.."
I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.
I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands.
You need to be able to throw something back
I've learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you But, if you focus on your family, your friends, the needs of others, your work and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you
I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.
I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one.
I've learned that every day, you should reach out and touch someone.
People love that human touch -- holding hands, a warm hug, or just a friendly
pat on the back.
I've learned that I still have a lot to learn.
Oh Cherokee Rose Feel each Tear!
March 27, 2008
Oh! Flower so white and the smell so sweet, speak to all and tell your
story of how you became the beauty of the trail.
The flower so white like a ghost, for all of those who died, the smell so sweet,
so we will never forget those who died along the way.
Each long bush has left seven leaves, one for each tribe, so they
will never be forgotten.
Oh how I could feel the spirits near as I walked though that Trail of Tears. I was
thinking to myself and wondering what it had been like.
Then, thunder of drums came to me, as I looked to the west, I heard my friend,
It was the Great Spirit for he had come and this is what he said,
the tears of the women were they fell. The flowers grew as they walked the long trail
to the enchanted land, that was not there at all.
The tears were for all that died on the Trail of Tears, and the smell so sweet, is to
remember all of our loved ones, and never to forget.
It is white like the ghost, for their spirits remain here on the trail, you will hear them
Chant, sing, and cry each winter as the time comes for the
anniversary of the day that they marched the trail of tears. My eyes filled with tears
and feel from my cheeks one landed on the flower, and the
Great Spirit picked it and put it in my hair, and told me with his ancient voice,
I should wear them everyday, for I was
as true to his people, for I the one they called dances in the rain. Given to me for I let
their tears fall on me from the sky as I dance in the forest and love
Cherokee Rose white as a ghost, sweet is your smell with the
seven leaves the land is here and the Great Spirit is waiting for all to cross over
to the other side with him, so sweet flowers grow on that
Trail of Tears, for they all lost someone dear. He holds his hand for me to
touch, it feels like leather yet so gentle.
So I will dance in the rain of their tears until my day is near.
In a dream...
I walk with You and hold Your hand
Along a winding beach of golden sand.
The sun, just setting, hanging low and bright;
Everything looks different in this light.
Watching light on water in a trance,
The sky, so blue I easily can see
How it could just continue endlessly.
Just then, in humble awe I realize,
I'm gazing not above but in your eyes.
You speak to me in tones so clear and soft,
Of love you feel within your heart, but oft
The feeling hurts so deep inside Your being,
For those You love reject You never seeing
How very much You love and give and care;
No other love can ever close compare.
As we go on a tear rolls down Your cheek;
One single tear, but volumes does it speak.
Atsi lv quo di
TACHE USHTE TACHE CHE TECHIHHILA
(May the Great Spirit watch over you always.)
"To love for the sake of being loved is human, but to love for the sake of loving is to be Indian."
In damp, dismal shadows the
Tender spirit dreams.
Gleaming in the sun,
Stream meanders among trees,
Slowly winding through.
Swift moving water;
The unbridled current wild,
The raging river flowing
Over bare mountains.
Fading, the blunt cliffs
Fall away with the flowing
Water, down, ever downwards.
Above churning pools,
Stark cliffs rise to meet the mist
Where the seagull dreams.
© By Che (email@example.com)
Just sharing. Hope it blesses someone. *HUGS* Che (Shay) I Am White Native; I Am Native White Many years ago, my Native people were one with this land. They traveled with buffalo and hunted with wolf, calling them brothers. My Native people were many. Then my White people came to this land. They killed my Native people, out of ignorance and fear. They pushed my Native people back. To out-of-the way places they called Reservations, my White people drove my Native people. One by one, my Native people fell, dying and dead on the trail, covered with the tears of my people. My White people shunned my Native people. Ashamed, some of my Native people called themselves by other names, praying only to survive. My White people took the women of my Native people as their own. They bore the children of my White people, and called them their own. Raised by my White people, the children grew strong; their number grew, while my Native people numbered fewer and fewer, as the buffalo. My White-Native people were accepted, slowly, and their numbers grew, until my people could not tell the difference between themselves. I was born. I grew in knowledge of my White people, in total ignorance of my Native people. I flourished in the history of my White people, denied the wisdom of my Native people. Grown in my White people, yet still a babe of my Native people, I hear their call. I hear the voices of my Native people who have gone before, and I yearn to walk with them. The elders of my White people are gone; the elders of my Native people are hidden from me. My Native people do not look upon me as one of them; I do not know my elders. The elders of my White people gave me a name; my Native name is hidden from me, as there are no elders to reveal it. I am hungry; I am alone. I search for knowledge, to be filled. I learn the ways of my Native people slowly, on my own, with no elders to guide me. I walk a path I forge alone, led by the drumbeats of my people. As long as the wind blows, the grass grows, there is breath in my body and the wolf howls in the night, I will search for my people. I call myself SheWhoWalksAlone. I am White Native; I am Native White. © By Che (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Diamonds in the sun
To swim the rivers of the Cherokee, you hear their spirits talking to you.
The thunder are their drums that beat, and the waterfalls are the tears of the past.
Listen close as the wind blows, you will hear them say. See the trout it is getting few,
and the trees are ding out for man has come and took it out.
The deer are afraid to come around and we weep to see the trash on the ground,
and that which floats in the river. So please teach your children to love this land to.
For it is their future, and their children's future so listen to my spirits and they will tell you the truth.
The river is as cold as ice and when the sun hits the spray it looks like diamonds gleaming all around.
What a beauty they have found. God has created a beautiful place for all to see.
So please the spirits call to me help me keep it clean. For your Children will learn from what they see.
So I had my swim and my granddaughter with me and we felt the spray on our face
and let God know that we knew. For all is here now but what about tomorrow is it going to be gone?
As I walk the Native Indian path.
[Fig. 38(5)] The Ocoee Ranger District (94,628 acres) is the southernmost ranger district in the Cherokee National Forest (CNF) in the extreme southeastern corner of Tennessee. This district offers camping, boating, fishing, hiking, biking, horseback riding, rafting, kayaking, picnicking, and swimming. The district contains Chilhowee Recreation Area, Rock Creek Gorge Scenic Area, Little Frog Wilderness Area, Big Frog Wilderness Area, and Cohutta Wilderness Area.
Ocoee means "apricot vine place" in Cherokee. It is thought the apricot vine refers to the passion flower plant (Passiflora incarnata), also called maypop. The globular fruit, when squeezed, may pop or it may not, hence, maypop. The seeds in the fruit are covered with a sweetish, fleshy pulp when ripe in late summer.
The Ocoee Scenic Byway was the first National Forest Byway in the nation. The route includes 19 miles of US Highway 64 and 7 miles of FR 77 going up Chilhowee Mountain in Polk County. This route was designed to take motorists through some of the most beautiful areas in east Tennessee. It includes natural beauty, many popular recreation spots, and the opportunity to view historic sites. Visitors can see over the Tennessee Valley to the Cumberland Plateau and to the Blue Ridge province. On a clear day, North Carolina and Georgia are visible, and the Ocoee Scenic Byway offers excellent views of nearby Sugarloaf Mountain. On Chilhowee Mountain visitors will find Chilhowee Recreation Area with campground, lake, swimming area, picnic grounds, and trails.
The Cherokee National Forest is rich with history. This area has been inhabited for over 12,000 years. The Cherokee Indians used to make their home here and the hills are filled with their history and culture. Much later, armies flowed through the valleys near here during the Civil War. A handful of Confederate soldiers were surprised by Union troops one night on Chilhowee Mountain. Their camping spot is marked next to the byway.
The scenic byway traces its way along parts of the Old Copper Road that used to follow some of the route of US 64. Horse-drawn wagons followed the road to transport a wealth of high-grade copper ore from Copperhill and Ducktown down the Ocoee River gorge to railway cars in Cleveland. It was not unusual for men working the wagons to spend the night at the Halfway House located near the mouth of Greasy Creek at Parksville Lake. The next day, they would complete the two-day journey from Copperhill to Cleveland. Parts of the old inn are under the waters of Parksville Lake.
- For more information: Ocoee Ranger District, RT1, Box 348, Benton, TN 37307. Phone (423) 338-5201
The Ocoee River originates from the Toccoa River that flows from the north Georgia mountains into Ocoee Lake Number Three. The river's name changes from Toccoa River to Ocoee River at the state line near Copperhill.
As a free-flowing, whitewater river, it carved out the Ocoee Gorge. Today the water power is harnessed for hydroelectricity and recreation in the form of calm lakes. Whitewater occurs only when water is released through the dams. The eastern dam, Ocoee Dam Number Three, is between Big Frog and Little Frog wilderness areas; the middle dam, Ocoee Dam Number Two, is at Caney Creek; and the western dam, Ocoee Dam Number 1 (also called Parkville Dam), is at the western edge of the district, south of Benton near the junction of US 64 and TN 314.
There were no roads in the Ocoee River gorge at the time of the Cherokee Indian removal in 1838, and the basin (Copperhill area) was also inaccessible. This land had few white settlers and was the land no one wanted until copper was discovered here in 1843. This discovery marked the demise of the rich soil, lush forests with huge trees, and green rolling mountains.
John Caldwell moved to Ducktown in 1849 with the idea to build a 33-mile road connecting Cleveland with the copper-producing area. The Copper Road, completed in 1853, doomed the environment to exploitation and ruin for financial benefit. This exploitation did bring livelihoods to many people. In the 1930s, US 64 was built using the old Copper Road route, except for about a 2.5-mile stretch that moved away from the Ocoee River.
The Civil War ceased the operation except for some small amount of mining and smelting to benefit the Confederacy. By 1876 all the wood in the area had been cut to fuel the smelters, and wood had to imported from surrounding areas. Two years later mining and smelting stopped after producing 24 million pounds of copper. Fifty square miles of trees had been cleared for fuel. It was again the land no one wantedraw, infertile dirt piles, appearing much like one imagines the moonscape to look.
In 1899, the Tennessee Copper Company s
I was reading about the Cherokee and saw this and wanted to post it. Larry Mc/Donald, was a Dr. before he became Georgia's Congersman he died in a plane that was blowen up over Scottland. His dad was my Dr. and my mothers Dr. He saved my mothers life. I was a great fan of his and of Jimi Hendix also as of Rosa Parks. This is really a great piece I found.
There have been many famous Cherokees in American history, including Sequoyah, who invented the Cherokee writing system. It was thought for many years that he was the only person to single-handedly invent a writing system, however it has been recently speculated that there was an ancient clan of Cherokee priests who had an older, mostly secret rudimentary written language from which Sequoyah may have gotten inspiration. Many historians speculate that Sequoyah never learned to speak, read or write the English language for various reasons.
Jimi Hendrix, lead singer, guitarist, revolutionist and frontman of Jimi Hendrix Experience, was of Cherokee heritage through his maternal grandmother, Nora Rose Moore. Musician Tori Amos also shares Cherokee ancestry.
Elias Boudinot, statesman, orator, and editor, wrote "Poor Sarah", the first Native-American novel. Stand Watie, Buck's younger brother, was a famous frontiersman and the last commander of Confederate forces to surrender in the American Civil War.
Ned Christie was a Cherokee patriot who became the subject of many books and magazine articles, including a fictional novel by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Larry McMurtry (Zeke and Ned) and Ned Christie's War, a Western novel by author Robert J. Conley.
U.S. Congressman Larry McDonald from Georgia was of Cherokee heritage, through his mother's side of the family. His father's family hailed from Scotland.
Other famous people of Cherokee ancestry include the actors Johnny Depp, Liv Tyler, Burt Reynolds, James Garner, Chuck Norris, James Earl Jones, Lou Diamond Philips, David Carradine, Charisma Carpenter, Wes Studi, and Christopher Judge; the musicians Steven Tyler (Aerosmith), John Phillips (The Mamas and the Papas), Eartha Kitt, Miley Cyrus; the actress and singer Cher
The Ancient Cherokee woke me as he spoke!
Ann Davis Tuton
I was woken up from a deep sleep someone telling me to write to you. To tell you how much it all means to the earth and future of our children the beauty of Gods land, and how he has it plan.
Each year there is a season winter, spring, summer and fall. For in the winter we have planted our seeds, and bulbs to the warmth of the ground, as a mother has her baby in the womb. As the season changes, and the snow goes away, and the rains come as early spring begins the bees start to buzz and the birds build their nest, and you see the sprouts of our seeds and bulbs coming though the earth. What a show they put on for us as they grow and show the beauty of how each one can outshine the other in someway. You find them in your yard, in a field of wildflowers for they or Gods very own, his masterpieces to share. Then summer comes, and others bloom, a different kind of flower for this season too. For the so sweet is the smell of each rose and every color you can tell. The fruit and nut trees are at their peek, and soon fall is coming and the changing of the leaves. Oh wow what a masterpiece God has made when you see this for every color or the leaves. The yellow, gold, orange, reds, and browns, go together, as the fall reaches it peek for it is a painting on the earth just to look at. Then winter will come again just in time to plant our seeds and bulbs again. So yes I see how God makes the land so beautiful and I also see it is a circle of life, knowing that each year it will always come back if we will keep the circle growing, and do not kill the future of our children. So I closed my eyes and went to sleep and my friend of the Cherokee knew I would spread his word of how God keeps the land so beautiful, and is asking us all to help to fight to keep it clean.
They walk though the trails of the Pisgah Forest, the land of the Cherokee.
I feel the spirits of the past. And hear the thunder as their drums, the birds as their flutes. The waterfalls are their tears.
They cry out to me from far off. Yet it seems like I could reach out and touch them just the same.
Will you fight for us they cried? For the white man has killed the fish, trees, and the game.
I look into the river and yes you can see the trash is floating down the way and the fish is fewer each day.
Trees are dieing for man does not care. They cut them down for homes to build.
I walked the path of my ancient people the rain falling on me and it leaves the smell of the fresh mountain laurels.
You hear the calling of the whippoorwills, the deer running in the woods, leaping from post to post.
What a joy to share with my grandchildren; for they are the future of the world.
My brother speaks and says Amicalola is one he says where my people lived, and it means as the spirits speaks (Tumbling Waters.)
I walk the path of the river behind the children and then the spirits call to me, with the drums beating louder and clear,
as the water come Un-ma-eolola; ( sliding rock) it said, water so cold and pure.
Help us keep it this way the drums beat as the water flows pass our way.
So I asked; why did the white man kill and take their land?
He spoke to me in a gentle voice and with a tear falling from his ghostly face he said; greed is why they gather us up and made us march to the Trail of Tears were each one of us lost someone dear.
They told us we were going to the enchanted land, yet there was nothing about the land enchanted at all.
As I went to sleep that night I was woken with a sound from far away, it told me to come and listen,
by the river just to follow the sound; of the dancing, of the tribe from the past and my brother of the
Cherokee telling me, please tell them to save the land and water for the future of the children and their children.
For it is for them to carry on the past. Teach them about us and teach them the truth.
You watched them walk today the path of the forest hand and hand. So this will always be here for them as long as we keep it pure and clean.
As his tears fell from his cheeks. He held up his ancient hand and said;
I will go to my Father in Heaven and meet you there someday my friend.
He faded into the night as if I was wiping my tears, knowing he spoke the truth, and I said the prayers of their ways to the North, South, East and West. Amen.
This post was modified from its original form on 10 Mar, 0:47
Mother Earth Cries
I use to go into the woods
And sit by my praying tree
Where only tiny eyes could see
I’d sit and hold my golden feather
And talk to the spirits I earth mother
I cold listen far and near
And she’d listen to my small cares
Now I go with my golden feather
And cry out loud for my mother
Her voice is soft, her voice is weak
And all the spirits that I seek
Balance is tilting off and down
I can hear it, feel it from the ground
The children cry from years ago
The dances and songs far too slow
I weep with my golden feather in hand
For all the wrongs done to our people and land
The feather that leads me to my home
Never far will I roam
I use to go into the woods………
I am an old woman now. The buffaloes and black-tail deer are gone, and our Indian ways are almost gone. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I ever lived them.
My little son grew up in the white man's school. He can read books, and he owns cattle and has a farm. He is a leader among our Hidatsa people, helping teach them to follow the white man's road.
He is kind to me. We no longer live in an earth lodge, but in a house with chimneys, and my son's wife cooks by a shove.
But for me, I cannot forget our old ways.
Often in summer I rise at daybreak and steal out to the corn fields, and as I hoe the corn I sing to it, as we did when I was young. No one cares for our corn songs now.
Sometimes in the evening I sit, looking out on the big Missouri. The sun sets, and dusk steals over the water. In the shadows I see again to see our Indian village, with smoke curling upward from the earth lodges, and in the river's roar I hear the yells of the warriors, and the laughter of little children of old.
It is but an old woman's dream. Then I see but shadows and hear only the roar of the river, and tears come into my eyes. Our Indian life, I know, is gone forever.
Waheenee - Hidatsa (North Dakota)
The Bird, the Bee
The Stone, the Tree
The Four-legged, the Two-legged
The Fish in the Sea
These are 'All my Relations'
They are equal to me
(c) Clive McBride 2006
Life's Journey is Long but you can't
Go wrong if you follow the path the
Creator has mapped.
Life's Journey is
Full of rocks that block the way
But each one has a message to convey
To hear it all you have to do is pray.
Life's Journey is full of heartache and
Sometimes you feel you
Are burning at the stake.
But make no mistake
For the Creators love Is greater than
On Life's Journey
When you lose your way
do not be afraid we all stray and
We will be okay for in our hearts
the Creator is part and has been
So give way to what
The Creator is trying to say
and you will never be led astray.
Copyright ©2006 Carlene Delk
Thank you for taking time to read and I hope it hit a spot in your heart.
Stone one is the color white, the stone of the clear
conscience. It is when the mind and spirit is free as
it searches for knowledge. The child in us asks the
world why, where and when? The child does not see the
evil or good in an event, but only see the event.
Stone two is the color blue, the stone of creativity.
As we gain knowledge our spirits soar in a sky of
unlimited possibilities. We do not create with our
hands, but rather with our hearts. The hands are only
tools used by the heart, which can create beauty or ugliness if we chose.
Stone three is the color red, the stone of wisdom and
fire. This can be a time of sharing, building and
harmony. Or, it can also corrupt and turn the soul
black with hatred and fear. We must seek the guidance
of the Great Spirit before we speak or take action.
Stone four is the color tan, the stone of remembrance.
What we leave behind for others is how we will be
remembered through the ages. Our children and our
children’s children will have the burden of our
actions and words. As we carry the stones of life,
place them gently in a circle on Mother earth so that
a warm fire will burn for all to see and be comforted.
StrongBearRedHeart ©Copyright 2001
Great Spirit-Creator bless and guide us:
extend the circle embracing all that is.
May our thirst for spiritual awareness never cease.
May forgiveness allow hate to never overwhelm us.
May we remain upon the path of a good heart
for such is the way of the trail of our ancestors.
-Herbert L. Caywood, Cherokee-
My Sister’s Tears
She stands in a mist of many battles,
with head held high, and soul so strong.
She vow’s never to stop the good fight for her People.
With a spirit of Wisdom and warriors heart
she prays for peace that we all belong.
With a Mothers compassion she opens her arms,
for those who seek a safe place from all harms.
She offers to heal, to love, to cry, and to laugh.
And for those who have passed over a wing so to fly.
It is the color within her that she clings to with hand,
it can’t be denied she is part of the clan.
Women like all others, but with so much it’s clear.
That is why I have written these words;
My Sister’s Tears
StrongBearRedHeart ©Copyright 2000
Come my brothers and sisters, come all the children of our land, come and sit by the village fire as the night closes around us. Watch the flames push the smoke upward toward Grandfather Sky. Our hope is deep as we send these, the most silent of prayers to ridethe smoke to the Great Spirit. The drums beat softly…… Sit quietly all my people and hear the sound, hear the crackling of the fire, the sound of family and friends, sharing their happiness. The warmth we feel comes from this sharing of love not the fire. Look closely into each other’s eyes. What do we see?What is it, that is reflected back to us?
We see ourselves in one another and all that which has made us who you are. The drums beat faster…….
Close your eyes my family, and listen to the wind as it stirs the flames higher.Listen to the songs of our ancestors. They offer so much, all we need do is open your hearts to their words. Only when we listen andlearn from their wisdom can we grow as a people.
The drums beat louder……
Inhale the aromas around you, smell the sage burning, the food cooking in the pits, the deer hide that we wear the rain in the air and Mother Earth under our feet. The drums beat shakes the ground like buffalo running across the prairie………
Taste what has come to our lips. Taste the tears of joy that come from our eyes. They are the tears of the past, present and the future. Grandfather Eagle has given us a view of the future, and it is good. Then we realize it is not the drums that beat so loudly, but our own hearts coming together as one people under the Great Spirit, in Peace, Love and Harmony………..Finally.
On my first tour of duty I often went to bed early to try to sleep before departing on a next morning sunrise mission only not being able to sleep due to the noise the other tent members were making drinking beer and playing cards..I asked them many times to please find another place to drink and play cards so I could go on my missions which required me to pay close attention to detail and I received the same remarks each time I asked them..They told me to do a sexual act I am not capable of doing..One day after coming in off a mission and knowing I had another early morning departure the next morning I decided to remedy my situation so that I would be able to go to bed early and get some sleep.. I went to the base exchange and bought a can of cigarette lighter fluid and went into my tent while every other tent member was out doing their assigned mission..I proceeded to take apart five or six 45 caliber rounds and remove the gun powder from them..I next dug a small trench leading from my bunk to the area where I knew my tent mates would set up a card table and play cards after they got off duty.. I drew a pentagram near the area and connected the small trench to the pentagram..I filled the pentagram with a mixture of gun powder and cigarrete lighter fluid and used lighter fluid to fill the trench leading from it back to my bunk..
About nine or ten aclock my tent mates came in after drinking and proceeded to sit up their folding card table to begin their nightly card game..I asked them to please hold down the noise because I had to leave early the next moring for a mission and they once again told me what I could do..I just sat up on the edge of my bunk and started rocking back and forth and chanting Ohh Prince Of Darkenss come to my aid over and over again..I did this for three or four minutes and then I took out a match and struck it and set the small trench on fire..The flames very quickly made their way up to the pentagram..When the flame ignited the gunpowder cigarette lighter mixture a great almost moaning sound was heard and rising from the ground a green flame shot up making it look like some freightning thing was coming from the ground..my tent mates started screaming and almost wrecked the tent getting out..I even became scared and left the tent.. After I gained my composure I went back into the tent and crawled into my bunk and slept like a baby until my alarm clock went off..Ispent the night alone in the tent because my tent mates refused to come back inside..When I came back from my mission I was told to report to the Colonel..I reported to the Colonel and he asked me if I was a Devil worshiper and I told him no why? He told me the other lieutenants in my tent was demanding I be given my own tent away from them..I told him what I did and why I did what I did and he said that was the greatest initiative he had ever seen displayed.. Instead of getting me into trouble my actions gained respect from all the others in my ranger unit and from that day on no one messed with me again..
My colonel went on to later become a four star general and he often told my story to others.. My Colonel was General Hollingsworth of which the character Rambo was based after..
The beans and onions the warrior had eaten earlier were still affecting him and the pressure was becoming almost unbearable, so while his chief was some distance away from him he decided to take advantage of the opportunity to relieve himself, he first shifted his weight to one leg and let it go. It was not only loud, but it smelled so badly it made the young warriors eyes water and his nose run..
He took off his shirt and fanned the air around himself vigorously. Then, he shifted to the other leg and lifted it and ripped off three more which smelled even worse than the first one. Keeping his ears tuned to hear if the chief was coming back, he went on like this for many minutes. When he heard the chief coming back which he knew was a time to hurry and end his relief, he fanned the air a few more times with his shirt then put it back on and and sat back down on the stump and folded his hands..
When the chief returned he was sitting there the picture of innocence..The Chief apologized for taking so long and asked him if he peeked and the young warrior assured him that he had not. At this point the chief reached over and removed the young mans blindfold and the young warrior sure was shocked!!
There sitting a short distance from him were the tribal elders who were all there to honor him for his warrior and hunting abilities..