Saturday, October 23, 2010

Vote You Sons of Bitches || Keep the Right Down


yes
right down where they belong. Pay attention.
It is easy, just step out the door and vote left.
have some icecream later.

sacred pipe
votes democratic.....

Monday, August 02, 2010

Children of Nanaboozhoo, continued



©2010 AICAP
Going far away. Going unexpectedly.The Children of nanaboozho have gone walking into the void. Going in eight directions, they found their life, and made their ceremonies, their contract, upon the sacred earth….doing so independently and far from home.
Walking in their footsteps, left for me in songs carried by the great wind, I have moved in a spiral which started in North Carolina 40 years ago.
Forty years ago I took a long moment to stand very still. I looked at the eight directions around my life. Standing behind me I saw the old Indians, they were right there looking at me. I moved my life that way, to see what they wanted. That was the choice I made. I have traveled for so long along this winding, coiled road that I no longer have a home to return to. My home has probably become this laptop computer I write on today. The history of that journey is inside of it, with a copy in a digital cloud.
The foundations of the original ceremonial instructions of the Ahnishinabe were the gifts of the journeys of the Children of nanaboozhoo. These gifts were discovered during encounters with Manitous. Manitous are particular spirits, entities with great powers of transformation, who are tied very closely to nature. It is possible to find them. They can be quite dangerous. Not everyone who knows them will survive. They are worthy opponents.
One of those children is my relative, my grandfather’s grandfather, the elder of my bones, so to speak. My vision of him has kept me moving. He showed me the value of standing as a wabeeno on the rocks of the earth and making my song, making that morning fire. It is a really great feeling to stand with sacred pipe on the stones, hills, and plains of the earth. As I write, I stand on the little island of Pantelleria. She reminds me of the great turtle that carried the Ahnishinabeg into the lands of the Great Forest. She is called, by her ancestors, “the daughter of the wind”. Our songs move in eight directions on this island.
From the ground up
I started the world journey of the sacred bundle from the ground up. I had only my skin and bones, and those sacred gifts of those old Indians. I started in emptiness, believing that it was a good idea for everybody on this mother earth if I were able to make a circle around the earth with these sacred rites.
When I left AmeriKa to begin this work, I had a little leather bag with ten US dollars, all in dimes (ten cents), my laptop and the bundle. This is what I mean by saying “from the ground up”. At each step I was always given food or a place to sleep, a hand up to the next destination. I learned to make sculptures in stone and wood, and to make paintings. These arts have become an important part of the long journey. They have helped pay the way, but they are a record as well.
Inside the bubble
It is always indian time wherever I am standing. At least, when it is me. The old smoke long ago wrapped me up in some sort of bubble, a protection. It is a round and rolling bubble, so I keep going, rolling in various directions.
On the island, inside the bubble, we take the sacred bundle outside every sunrise and bring it back into the house at sunset. There is a small ceremony made in each direction. This motion enables the bubble.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Lost Children of NanaBoozho


©TwentyTen.
Imagine a big, ugly person holding a fragile and delicate masterpiece of art, an ancient bowl filled with beauty and made with rare and beautiful care. Suddenly the person smashes the art into the ground and it shatters into uncountable pieces.
That big ugly person was Modern Man. The Art he destroyed was the civilization of the so-called American Indian.
Most American Indian people spend their lives trying to understand . To recognize, the little pieces they hold in their lives, in their spirits. I have spent my life looking for pieces, fragments, “shards” of time and art and knowledge.
Birds ||
Yes, the Winged Ones are very ancient. In those ancient times they taught the human beings living on the American Earth how to sing, how to dance, and possibly how to dream.
Today I heard an Ojibwe woman singing, it brought tears to my eyes. It made me feel lonely, so far from home, yet strangely satisfied to be a child of these ancient people, a child of Nanaboozhoo…not afraid to jump into the sacred winds and go out into the world. Yes, sustained and nurtured by those sacred powers even as I suffer loneliness and a mission no one but me and the old ones can understand. Alive in an empty world. Breathing in the vacuum of the dead world. Dancing in the stillness of that fear which rides the shadows of this world. A poet, a dreamer, a crazy man who believes what he believes—a student of the middle way.
I have six generations of a small bird family living with me here on the little island of Pantelleria. They have adopted my stone water bowl, which I keep at the eastern gate to my home. Lately I have heard the calls of a young falcon, a falcon has been indigenous to Pantelleria as long as anyone can remember. The shiny little water bowl is well-known to the birds of Pantelleria.
One of my teachers, years ago, could call particular species of birds using ancient songs that he held, passed down over the generations. The songs were long and melodic and step by step the birds he called would come close to us and sing back to him. He taught me a few of these songs. I was very young. One day deep in the forest, all alone, I sat down and started an owl-calling song. At first I was comfortable and had a great feeling. Soon I heard an owl calling from rather far away, then I heard others, from many directions. As I continued to sing the singing owls came closer. Without fully understanding why, I was suddenly filled with fear and more or less ran back to my auto and drove away. The memory of those songs left me at that instant and I have never been able to sing them after that moment of fear.
I am absolutely certain of the veracity, truth, and sincerity of my teachers on this matter. In my travels I have not encountered again a tribal teacher who would admit to this knowledge of calling the birds, but all confirm an ancient and very specific relationship at a social level with the Bird Nation, as we call it.
More in this series later on………..

Saturday, July 03, 2010

Shadows (Twenty Ten)



How would the old Indians feel if they could see us now? Would Grandfather’s  smile show contentment?
They said they wanted the land. They said they knew what to do with it. They said we were savages and had no idea at all. Bleeding, one by one, bleeding all together we gave it up. That is what we did. With our blood. With our lives we stood in the way. We did not bend. And so we paid. And now you have it. Today. 
Yes, what would Grandfather think of us now? They say when an old Wabeeno dies, a whole world vanishes forever. I am a Wabeeno, I am Ahnishibeg, Time has measured me on the short stick, my body has stumbled and my dreams grown to long. I am the one who made it this far. I did not do it my way. I did it their way, the way of smoke, the way of the old Indians. That way. That was the way I went. In another way, I was the one who went that way. For me it is OK.
First I covered my body with water. I made the songs of the water, water songs we call them. I made them directly up into the sky and the water touched my life. Next I covered my body with tobacco and made a song from the center of my belly. I made it in such a way that it went out into the world. Next I covered myself in corn and sent a song inside my body, I sent all around in there. Next I covered myself in smoke from the sage, cedar and sweet grass. I flew all over the place, I torched the flames making that smoke with the stem of an old pipe, the original instructions for the direction of that smoke, straight up and all all over the place. Straight up. Next I went dreaming and in my dreaming through the dark I addressed shadows down onto the earth, from the horse I was riding. I dreamed again and ate delicious soup. Magical soup. Finally I sat down and rubbed my belly. I breathed again, feeling that I was inside myself and everything was ok.
In the morning sacred pipe is carried outside, to rest with the sea and the sky, looking down the mountain. In the night the bundle of sacred intentions is carried inside to vibrate dreams out into the space, into the stones of the old walls of which the house is made. All this work takes place on the side of an old, yet steaming, volcano.
What did you do today?

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

The Way of Smoke

©2010. Turtle Heart
photo by Silvia Santi

The purpose of the Sacred Pipe is not magic. It is not personal power. The sacred teaches us about the joy of life, how to cherish others and to hear the voices of nature speak clearly from inside, rather than outside, our souls.
Until you have helped another person, wept and felt their pain and suffering as your own, you cannot understand what it means to hold Sacred Pipe. Until you can stand inside your own mind and yet hear the wind, feel the water of the earth and know the songs of the birds flying into the light, you are isolated and lonely. Even if you believe you have everything.
Personal desires are like stones deep in the valley. What is sacred is the long road to the top of the mountain. Can you carry the stones of the valley up to the mountain? Until you know the meaning of these things it is meaningless to reach for the sacred. This world is the mirror of your soul, but you have to look into that mirror with your eyes open, all your senses open. 
Today Sacred Pipe is a mass-produced item, like toy swords made of shiny metal or play money used in children’s games. You cannot go to the market and buy the sacred. You cannot hold the sacred just because you have some blood quantum or walk inside some particular culture. It is more elusive. Sometimes it is free, but nothing is free. You must understand what to pay, who to pay, and where to pay. And then you pay. This is real freedom. 
I have followed the way of Sacred Pipe all of my long life. My path of smoke, and wind, and fire has lead me to this place, the tiny island in the ancient sea. Inside my body I feel time pulling at my eyes, at my muscles and bones. Time has the power to steal what is most precious in the space of a single breath. I am far from my home, but I am still on sacred ground, a land that knows me very well and holds me. I awaken to beauty. It is what I see when I open my eyes. It is what I feel coming up from my feet. Beauty fades. What is beautiful is beautiful because it fades. This is something I have learned from time as I watch its shadow in my dreams. I have always chosen beauty, for what other choice, in what other direction would my satisfaction lead me? The perfect beauty of a storm, the perfect beauty of silence, the perfect beauty of thunder; so I send beauty my smoke and the songs of the old Indians and in thunder, or in flames or sitting still I accept the choices I have made. I smoke in a sacred manner. And I dream.
Following the smoke of the red stone I have traveled in eight directions. I have gone where I have never been before, where no American Indian has been before. It has taken only determination. There is and has never been a question about believing. I understand that my travels with this sacred bundle have changed lives. Each changed life carries even more changes forward, into the seven generations. The changer is also the changed. I remember very well where I started. I started in Hell. Following the sacred smoke I made my way forward, one step at a time.  
I have never been satisfied with the tribal reservation philosophy of more or less cowering before the modern world in paranoia and anger. I was never satisfied that my diverse ethnic origins, being part welsh, ojibwe and catabwa would mean that any door in this world could be closed to me. Racial qualifications are a poisonous lie which celebrates fear over change and growth in my view. So no door has been closed to me. I went and breathed, looked into the eyes and lives of teachers from many American Indian tribes…and also from Japan, China, Tibet, South America,, Israel, Egypt and the Old South. I liked those homemade biscuits and the long dirt path to the houses of my old southern catabwa relatives. None of those people had automobiles. They lived deep inside the forest, not at the end of a parking lot like now. Yes, those old souther biscuits took me everywhere. Along with the tobacco that my old relations grew up from sacred beginnings, as food  for heaven.There are many kinds of smoke my friend. If you follow smoke you will see this. Sacred smoke has its own color, movement physics and ambient. It is particular smoke.
Out into the world some ancient children of nanaboozho were the first to go far away from the family lands, deeper into the unknown world. What they brought back became the foundation of our sacred rites and teachings. I understand those emotions that drove them forward. It is not a negative feeling, but it is not a feeling of being satisfied. There must be something more. Something more I can do. So I have started moving in this ancient way.
Today, people listen to what is said from far away. There are no ears to hear what is being said right in front of you. I understand this. In the modern world heaven is far away, another place than here. Following the smoke of sacred pipe keeps me inside my body, right where I am, where I happen to be. I treasure this. For me, the answers are not far away. They are nearby.
Over the long years in my private life I am usually alone, or with animals rather than people, something which is very important to me. Inside the ceremonies I am wrapped up, a yuwipi of ceremonial attention in making correction ceremonies….and at those times I am with the people, wrapped up in the waiting world and waiting for their hearts to show me what is possible. A ceremony with the people is a mirror and it can reflect only what is shown by those people who may be looking into it. This, as well, is one of those answers that is nearby. Though no one is listening nearby. Their attention is far away, so I pas by unnoticed but not unfelt. Like smoke.

Friday, April 30, 2010

Feather of an Eagle









A new Book has arrived ||


(left) Eagle Feather painting. © 2010, Turtle Heart.

For the last several years I worked very hard to write a book about my experiences with the sacred of the American Indian. In the end I wrote over 600 pages of comments and teachings on this subject, my life for the last forty years or so. In the end I found a publisher who thought the work might have some merit, here in Italy. I live these days in Italy, on a small island called Pantelleria.

The publisher and I areed to an edited version that trims the commentary from 600 pages to just around 100 pages. This condensed document was translated into the Italian language. For me this was a great thing. I really love it that my work is discussed in print in this language of my new home. I was able to also include a selection of petry and a gallery of my art images reflecting the mystery life and the sacred.

This book is now available to the world market. My first paper-published "book". I have been writing poetry, prose and publishing original tribal art online since 1986, for free. The published book goes into details that have never been published online.

Here are the details of my first published book:

La piuma dell'aquila
Prezzo € 22,50 || Edizione 14,5 x 22 || Pagine 200 
|| ISBN978-88-87944-80-8
|| Language Italiano



Click here to Visit Venexia.it.... or your local bookstore. First edition is only 800 copies.

There is something very compelling about holding a book you have written in your own hands. It is a very different experience than writing something for the internet. I hope this book will help advance the cause of the World Journey of the Four Directions Unity Bundle.

I receive no payments or royalties for the first edition, as my contribution to the cost of translation and color printing (there are 16 color plates of my paintings). For me, this is ok.

I feel really good about this publisher. The owner was very clear in her ideas and proposals. Having a real editor work with you is very educational. Their contribution to the work is very powerful and in this case very comfortable for me. We concentrated on the essentials, a work that contains the positive, the magical. I have no idea how to write a review of my own book.

I hope in the near future we can make an English language edition available.

There are so many good and sweet people in this country. Coming here has saved my life. The hospitality, kindness and support I have for this work is very beautiful in this country. Several god friends help me write this book. The translation and editorial work of Venexia was really supportive, patient and easy. The book was expensive to print, as it contains a large number of paintings and other full page images which illustrate the work of the tribal sacred. I believe the work should be viewed in 3 bodies, poetry, text, paintings-photography. Each body of the book tells the same story in a different way.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Falling Down || Equinox Wabun 2010

©2010, Turtle Heart




falling down?
yes, I have fallen down.
I was holding my dream up into the light
it was easy to forget the shadows of time
for a moment
yes, I was bleeding
laying there on the ground
I closed my eyes
but all i could see
all i could feel
was the dream
all i remembered was my dream
yes, I have fallen down
but I was moving forward
at that time

equinox spring 2010

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Don't Pay To Pray




Reasonable people understand the relationship between money and the infrastructure of sacred space. There is a vocal and unrelenting, judgmental minority that pesters society on this subject.
I have done hundreds of ceremonies for “free”…meaning I paid myself whatever the costs came out to be. In doing so I have spent a modest fortune over these years. At other times, I require that participants make donations or pay fixed fees to cover the various expenses involved. These expenses include housing the sacred objects (rent), travel, food, telephones, computers and gasoline, to name a few.
While you can function with great freedom, you cannot function in a worthwhile manner for free. This has always been true. There should be no question that you are going to pay. If no one asks you for money, it is up to you to seek out the host and demand to know how you can help. Every other argument on this subject is fear, a lie.
Who pays for Dalai Lama to travel in the world and give teachings to all cultures? And how much is he paid? The answers are simple, it costs millions of dollars to get Dalai Lama around. He personally makes nothing. I, and a handful of others like me,  are in this exact situation.
Reservation communities have never had much experience in understanding or in talking about money.From the beginning until the present day, money is not well understood by reservation members. Most reservation members do not grow up in the same capitalist system as modern people. It is a different there. Tribal people do not really understand money. Even today, with some tribes having profitable casino operations, they require outside consultants to actually understand how to make a paying system work on the reservation.
When tribal speakers talk about “do not pay to pray”, or say things like “there is no money in the right to ceremonies” they are speaking tragically incorrect English. What they are trying to say is how much American Indians really dislike the theft of tribal teachings by modern people. This is always the problem. Money is not the problem..
Do the people who say strange like this believe that the ceremonial leader must pay for his airline ticket, car rental, feed everyone and then go home, paying for everything himself?
So, in this argument about “money” put forth from the LookingHorse group, and other loud-talking American Indians, they are not speaking correctly. This is to bad. It has created a lot of confusion. Learning to express clearly what you really mean is a very important part in the desire to communicate with others. Clarity in communication is in fact a foundation of the sacred teachings in question.
The sweat-lodge and other ceremonies cannot be sustained in the outside world for free. They have never been sustained for free in the traditional world, it is an illusion.
More tribal authorities need to take responsibility for standards. Every great tool of spiritual faith in the history of the world is sustained by an infrastructure, payments by those whose best interests it serves.
I travel throughout Europe and have made a number of sweat lodge ceremonies here. I have asked that the expenses for wood, food, travel other required spending are covered. The fees I have charged reflect what these costs are. In this way I am able to make this effort to share in a responsible way. Usually I collect just at or under what the journey and supplies cost. It is that simple. Only a model like this can enable the possibility to share these American Indian practices with a waiting world.
Another model might involve endowments. Some tribes have the power to do this, but so far have not. There are no endowments for the sacred bundles and ceremonial keepers of tribal society. With proper endowments sweat lodge camps could be set up and open at no cost, like the church. They could be dispatched to troubled places around the world to offer assistance, for example. But there are no endowments for this work from anyone, including American Indian tribes…including those who have spent millions of lobbying dollars and other political activities while their sacred objects and languages vanish in front of them….or perhaps I should say behind them.
Historically, tribes never developed a habit for cash. To this day, tribal members rarely have a good understanding or a good feeling about money. It is symptomatic of poverty. Guilt and confusion over what money is and where it should arrive is a source of great confusion in American Indian life, and in the expectations and mythology of tribal ceremonies. This great confusion has become a mythology which sounds like a policy. It is only confusion.
Understanding how to use money to protect and move the ceremonial original instructions around is a challenge for even the best American Indian community. There is a lot of healing which needs to be addressed about this issue.
I have always believed that it was a good idea to enlist the help of modern people and their money to support the infrastructure of the tribal sacred. With some sense of money management the tribes can move their dialogue out into the great waiting world. By insisting everything is free, they stay home while the mountain of bullshit which surrounds them grows higher and higher. Having the money to send runners, bundle holders, sweat lodge leaders, out into and around the world where they are needed can only happen with a supported infrastructure. This is not paying to pray, it is praying and building and growing, when it is done right.
Tribal ceremonies are more important, and contain more sacred real world information than “prayers”. We Wabeeno people do not believe mouthing your desires and hopes to the creator (praying) is very real. The ceremonies and the sacred bundles are something much more important than prayers. A sacred space is like a mystery life machine. You can enter it and go on a great journey.
Society in general allows religious and spiritual groups to build an infrastructure, a financial system that takes care of the work and the objects. That is why there are so many tax and political reliefs for such groups. Only in tribal society, in loud voices dominated entirely by the impoverished Lakota Nation, do the people talk about “don’t pay to pray”. They talk about it loud and they talk about it often. What they are trying to say is they don’t want people to steal their ceremonies and make money from the theft. I agree with that. When the wrong people do the wrong thing and make money, it is ugly. It happens everywhere, not just to American Indians. We all have to work our way through the same pit of snakes to find a true path for our lives. Stealing and selling is not the same argument as the act of providing support and expenses to the great sacred work. Confusion between these two ideas has come out as a loud and vulgar argument called “don’t pay to pray”.
I have made many ceremonies with tribal people. I always paid for this. I considered it my obligation and part of my education. I was happy to pay. I paid as often as I could. I would just leave as much money behind as I possibly could when I stayed with and shared ceremony with my tribal relations. It was like bring home-made cookies. People bring cookies to a meeting and everyone eats. I used to bring cash. And just left it behind when I left. I made no noise about it. I am a good example. It is one reason why my tribal elders love me.
Tribal leaders and keepers of ceremonies need to brace up and embrace a more balanced and thoughtful view of these matters. Under the current entrenched attitudes, the ceremonial teachers, sacred bundles and ceremonies are vanishing. This attitude contributes to the continual shrinking of opportunities and qualified people to carry on the tribal sacred.
I could imagine a great university filled with teachers of the sacred teaching day and night. The great school of the sacred American Indian teachings has yet to be built. The current attitude may sound noble, but it is not correct. When tribes scream and yell about the money they are missing the point entirely. They are trying to object to the theft and acting out of tribal sacred, but using this language it comes out as something else..

Update || 25 march 2010.
Arvol LookingHorse, a keeper of an important sacred bundle of the Lakota has gone on record to answer some of the hysteria directed his way by tribal members who are angry that he "raises" money or "accepts" fees for his work. His answer is similar to mine, as you may read above. It is great that at least one other keeper of a tribal bundle has spoken with some clarity about the need for tribal keepers of bundles to raise funds to meet their escalating expenses.

"This whole conflict is happening because of money that these individuals think should go to them personally and to others they convinced of their hardship that is due, any money raised is for what efforts wolakota was created for and the people involved in those efforts. There are other state and non-profit organizations that help the concerns they have and have helped them. They can also spend their energy on their concerns and creating their own program, instead their energy to attack people."--Arvol Looking Horse, statement June 2007. The full statement can be read at this link....

Additional clarification on this issue can be found by clicking this link....

Friday, January 29, 2010

Lakota Fraud




I use a Google alert to track stories and articles about Sacred Pipe. Every day the most astonishing claims and behaviors by modern people show up in my mail inbox. Some disturb me more than others.

I have recently found notice of several UK women, calling themselves life-coaches, who claim to be “certified” Lakota shamans and keepers of tribal pipes. They offer discounted vision quests, one even lets you vision quest using emails, for $400, at this link, for example. This crazy woman wants you to believe the impossible and apparently does quite well finding suckers to go along with her.

Most American Indian tribes do not use or embrace the Sacred Pipe. It is the traditional and historical practice of a small group of tribes. Most tribes, therefore have no opinion on the abuse and theft of its teachings out in the modern world. Likewise, tribes at present have no power to prosecute or sanction the many, many liars and pretenders who damage the sacred truth by this dangerously misinformed behavior. If you pretend to be a catholic priest or a doctor, you can be prosecuted in most governments. If you pretend to be a keeper of tribal sacred objects, no one does anything. Because of this the modern society is facing an increasing population of self-appointed shamans and pipe keepers. This behavior, aside from being fraudulent, is doing a terrible harm to tribal truth, tribal integrity.

Who are these thieves? What motivates a frumpy British woman to believe for a moment that she is a keeper of a Lakota Sacred Pipe? The recent case of James Arthur Ray, another thief and liar, who caused the death of four human beings who should have known better in Arizona, are but the latest in examples of the harm this behavior brings to society.

What has happened inside the Lakota culture that has made this kind of fraudulent claim so incredibly common? It is ironic in many ways. There are many Lakota people who scream and yell about the theft of their sacred, yet it is other Lakota people who seem to be selling and playing tricks on white people, for money, and so making this problem so serious. The very victims of this crime are the ones who seem to be making it all possible.

The Lakota tribal society is deeply damaged and troubled. Child sex slavery, domestic sexual abuse, alcoholism, violence, rape, drug addiction, unemployment, illiteracy and all their associated ailments are an epidemic among the Lakota. It is almost as if they are cursed because of the fraud and lies and violence that they condone and seem powerless to do anything to stop.

Are they, as a people, strong enough to clean up the rotten people in their own community? No, they are not. There are over 500 American Indian tribes. The sure sign of the fraud is how consistently the pretenders and liars invoke the Lakota, one small, troubled tribe. I have reached a point in my life that when some modern person starts talking “Lakota teachings”, I am sure they are liars and thieves at worst, self-deceiving fools at best. Anyone with any real, authentic experience inside American Indian culture will understand this.

There are moments when this problem makes me physically sick. As real tribal people try and try to hold their culture and sacred ideas together, they are mocked and insulted by white Anglo-Saxons whose need for attention, whose psychotic natures, bypass everything real and distant and just appoint themselves sacred officers. It is perverse. Why are modern people so easy to fool, to deceive, to hoodwink? It seems that for every American Indian who struggles against these dark forces to survive yet another day, ten more white people spring up, like toxic weeds, to claim the credit and power to hold the tribal sacred.

There are multiple problems at work in this situation. One is the easy way in which modern people, by being habitually uninformed, allow themselves (give permission) for crimes like this to thrive. Another is the complete inability of American Indian tribes to come together and pressure the world government to give the same protections and legal rights to American Indian religious leaders as they do the other world religions.

I have spent my life addressing this travesty. It shows no sign of going away….seems to just keep getting worse. I don’t mind crazy people, angry people, lost people….but these fools who are suffering a mental illness causing them to feel perfectly all right deceiving everyone and fraudulently collecting money are just disgusting, tragic, and lost.

People need to pay attention. There are no Anglo-Saxon shamans. There are no Anglo-Saxon Pipe Holders. There are no initiated Lakota Anglo-Saxons. Not one.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Taino Tribal Land || aka Haiti



There were Indigenous “Indians” on Haiti. They lived a good and sweet life. They were wiped out by the colonialist behavior and replaced with slaves from assorted brown-skinned countries. The Arowac Tribes (Taino), were ceremonial migrations of the Inca.

These tribes were sacred tobacco tribes, carry the ceremonial plant from long trade routes which connected them, through layers (not directly), to the tribes of the Lower Mississippi Valley (Creek-Catabwa). The first arrivals were not interested in these sacred ideas. No one asked them anything, except to move along. The Colonialist occupation was served up by the church and the state.

The Taino Indians were wiped out.

The sacred house (wrapping) of the Sacred Pipe of the World Jouney of the Four Directions Unity Bundle wears four Taino Indian beads, of baked ceramic.

The Rev Pat Roberston has said there was a deal made with the devil in Haiti. He seemed to think that the devil was not him, not his Republican Favors Party Christian Values and Discount Value Mechandise Church (Membership Required)…he forgot that he is the devil with whom the deal was made. I am sure he has a picture of Ronald Reagan somewhere nearby. That is the Clubhouse of Deals.

Why so many bad people have kept this country down, and why so many great western nations have spent so much time and effort to keep a puppet regime in power is strange to me. A few very white and privileged people need to keep making their money. This seems to be strangest but truest answer we have at this point.

The long suffering of this land of Haiti, from the people who first came there with love, following ancient ceremonies, to the long strings of the Puppet Masters who will play out the "humanitarian rescue" of these suffering human beings..... and they will make even more money.

I wonder if Obama has even noticed?

Whose knife has the butter here?

I wonder why the MSM is so proud of all the photos of this suffering, pain and loss in Haiti, yet never show us a photo of Afghanistan or Iraq? Sure are a lot of photos of smashed people, thousands of them.

If I were looking for the devil, I would start at Rev Pat Robertson's house.

Thursday, January 07, 2010

Twenty Ten




I find myself wondering.

WTF? Here on the little islnd it is a sunny 70 degrees. the flowers,which are in great abundance and variety, scent the air as the blue moon falls back down into a normal winter. Soon the local Pantesche will drink homemade wine all night and dance and eat in the stone caves they call "circles",something that was once true everywhere in Italy.

Things start to really quiet down around here about now. This is the warmest winter season I can remember. The lizards did not go to sleep this year. they usually climb into a deep hole until March, but the lizards did not sleep this year. A few new developments continue to encourage me that the Journey of this great bundle of the intentions of my tribal elders may reach another country this year. I don't run around and make much of a promotion for this work. It seems to require movement that is quiet, arising from the middle way. there is a lot of noise in the modern world. Anyway, the little sacred fire is a steady signal and we keep it going, sending up the news to the mystery life. In a noisy world that steady signal means something. the old Indians used to tell me, "if you do something, something will happen. If you try, something will change..."

...and some things have changed, looking more interesting and complete. I spent years following the sacred river to the sea. Today I am on the Great Sea, on the back of an ancient Turtle....the island of Pantelleria. I have ridden slowly in a circle just a little outside of time, not quite on the map of the paymaster.

A lot of the old teachings have been beaten down. One life can only hold these sacred mysteries for so long. If there is no one there, the way falls into the dust and so becomes dust. I inch forward towards eternity with this understanding. My arms are full. It is all right here before me.

Persons who may be interested in sharing their support to bring the Four Directions Unity Bundle to other countries of our world should feel free to contact me.

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