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Great Spirit

"My grandfather is the fire My grandmother is the wind The Earth is my mother The Great Spirit is my father The World stopped at my birth and laid itself at my feet And I shall swallow the Earth whole when I die and the Earth and I will be one Hail The Great Spirit, my father without him no one could exist because there would be no will to live Hail The Earth, my mother without which no food could be grown and so cause the will to live to starve Hail the wind, my grandmother for she brings loving, lifegiving rain nourishing us as she nourishes our crops Hail the fire, my grandfather for the light, the warmth, the comfort he brings without which we be animals, not men Hail my parent and grandparents without which not I nor you nor anyone else could have existed Life gives life which gives unto itself a promise of new life Hail the Great Spirit, The Earth, the wind, the fire praise my parents loudly for they are your parents, too Oh, Great Spirit, giver of my life please accept this humble offering of prayer this offering of praise this honest reverence of my love for you.

The Journey Home

JOURNEY HOME. The bright yellow sun hung lazily in the noonday sky. The shimmering heat stopped all but the foolhardy from venturing forth beneath its intense glare. In the distance a dust cloud rose and then fell as a mild breeze swept lazily across the vast open spaces of the plains. The sky above was blue and cloudless. There was no shade from the relentless heat that baked the ground as hard as stone, the force of which then split it open like an over ripe melon, leaving behind gaping scars as evidence of the suffering that the earth underwent during this time. Nothing stirred for days on end. No strong winds blew and no clouds appeared. No animals seemed to roam across the plains in search of food or water. For any animal that had failed to find these essential sources of life, before the coming of the fierce summer sun, were already laid out upon the sweltering floor of the plains. Their dead bodies wasted away, their bones bleached white, for this was a harsh time. A time when only the strong would survive. There resided a profound and heavy silence over this vast area of land like a shroud, a cloak that covered both the living and the dead. Nothing moved beneath the blazing yellow disk therefore nothing could produce sound. It seemed as if the world had come to an end. And yet there was life. A few plants and flowers, with their roots tunnelled far beneath the ground, grew in spite of the heat. Animals driven below ground during the hottest parts of the day braved the first early light of the morning, and cooling evening periods, when they would scamper around in the failing light hoping to find a fresh carcass upon which to feed. Day after day the heat continued to sap the strength of the earth below. Mighty rivers fed by the distant Black Hills, and other mountain ranges far away, also lost their life force to the heat. They weakened and in time they were no more. The flat riverbeds became as hard baked as the surrounding banks and flat lands around them. It was towards the end of this cycle of intense heat, when the animals of the lands began sensing that the weather was about to change and their suffering brought to an end, that a curious happening took place. A single Human Being appeared. He seemed undeterred and unafraid of the heat that was still capable of rendering death and desolation upon the earth. He walked slowly across the land, his eyes surveying all before him. Every now and again he would stop. Then taking a container from his pocket he would raise it to his lips and drink the cool refreshing water that it contained. Once refreshed he would then continue on his slow journey across the land. Although this was the first time that his eyes had ever seen the colours that now surrounded him, this Human Being knew that he was home, knew that he was now walking upon the sacred land of his forefathers. His heart was filled with untold joy at having finally reached his destination. It had taken him a lifetime to achieve but now he felt an overpowering sense of being. He hoped that the light breeze that seemed to welcome him, caressing his cheek like an old friend, would also carry the news of his arrival to others so that they might in turn come to know, and enjoy, the purpose of his journey home. As the sun began its descent towards the earth the lone figure decided that now was the right time to speak. To introduce himself to those around him, the earth, the wind, the sky, and the lands that he so loved. Finding a suitable position he held his arms far out at his sides and looking up towards the clear blue yonder he cried. “Behold for I have come! I send heartfelt greetings to all my brothers and sisters of the past. I give thanks to the Great Spirit for allowing me this day, and for guiding me on my journey home, and thank him for making me a Lakota!” The sound was carried far away from where the man now spoke. And in uttering these words, in a tongue, which was in fact foreign to his native ears, he was showing great respect and understanding to the customs and religion of those that he now hoped to visit with. For the language that he spoke so fluently belonged to another time, and place that he had only ever seen either in books or else in visions. His words were carried high into the sky until they reached the Place of Souls and where the spirits of the Lakota people could hear them. It was decided that they would, with one voice, welcome their spiritual brother on his journey home. “They know that you are here my brother.” The voice that now spoke to the Human Being was one that he was familiar with for he had heard many times before. It belonged to his Spirit Helper. When the man turned around he saw before him, glowing brightly in the dying rays of the sun, a beautiful golden eagle standing proudly upon the ground before him. “Can you feel their words my brother? Do not listen with your ears but listen with your heart for their words are being carried to you upon the wind.” “I feel them my brother.” The man whispered as the wind caressed his body and soul. “They send greetings from the past,” the Golden Eagle explained, “and they want me to tell you that their hearts soar high in the sky because you have remembered them and have carried them in your own heart. They know that you will carry their past deeds with you always, and that you will keep their spirit alive by teaching others of their past actions and deeds, and regale their brave exploits upon the field of battle. Now there is one amongst them, whose name must remain unspoken for that is our way, who wants to send you a special greeting. From one Oglala Lakota to another he says you and he will always be brothers.” “My heart soars high because of his words.” The man replied. “They know you have travelled far to be with them today,” the Golden Eagle continued, “that you have crossed the wide waters from the Grandmother country. They know also about the big thunderbird that carried you here within its iron belly. And they know the contents of your heart.” Again the wind blew and the Golden Eagle paused as if to listen. “They ask that you now bare your feet.” The eagle waited until this was done. “So tell me my brother what do you feel.” “I feel...” The man closed his eyes as he allowed himself to become as one with the earth, “the rise and fall of the earth, as if it were breathing. The warmth from the ground is now spreading upwards throughout my body. It feels as if the earth is rushing up through my entire body as if to welcome me. It feels as if the earth wants to show me the sacred paths. It is allowing me the honour of feeling a part of everything that I have seen and touched during my time here.” “Then you have been truly blessed my brother.” Said the eagle with some pride. “Now the wind is asking for you to remove your shirt.” This the man did without hesitation or question. Standing bare chested he then faced the bright red disc of the dying sun as it fell back towards the distant horizon. Closing his eyes again the man then felt the wind upon his body. The sensation of which felt as if many hands were reaching out though the passage of time and touching him. At first there was total silence but then, on the crest of the wind, he thought he heard a voice or maybe many voices? It sounded as if something was calling out a name. He listened with all his heart and soul and slowly the sound could finally be heard. “Stephen!” The wind called softly. This name belonged to the one who stood listening. And now in this time and place he could hear it being called from across the ages. From a distant time and place the souls of those that he had grown to love and admire were now recognizing him as one of their own. They were calling out to him and him alone. It filled his heart with untold joy. “Greetings my brothers.” Stephen called back. “And thank you for allowing me this day.” The wind ebbed and died and, after offering up a special prayer to the Great Spirit, Stephen opened his eyes and watched as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. The land now fell dark as he quickly replaced his shirt and his shoes. Before heading back towards the highway, where the bus to take him to his hotel was waiting, he thanked his Spirit Helper for guiding him once again. Finally he watched as the Golden Eagle rose majestically into the air before disappearing into the blackness of the night. As he neared the road he thought he heard the faint sound of singing coming from far away in the distance. He turned to look back over his shoulders and in the darkness of the night he thought he saw the flickering yellow flames of a campfire far away in the distance. Thrown out by the light he thought he could make out the shadows of dancers, prancing and leaping about to the sound of a drum. The beat of the drum soon reached his ears. The drum beat out a steady and hypnotic rhythm much like the pounding of his heart. The bus was ready to leave the rest area when Stephen arrived back at the pickup point. He quickly climbed aboard and as the bus pulled away, accelerating away down the long smooth surface of the highway, he happened to glance once more out of the window. He could see nothing but the blackness that engulfed the world outside. As he was about to turn his head away from the window he happened to spy, out of the corner of his eyes, in the peripheral of his vision, and reflected upon the flat smooth surface of the window, the unmistakable face of someone that he knew. This face had never before been depicted in a photograph or even a drawing. Many false images had been made of it by those claiming to have seen him, and drawn by those who never had, but none had produced a true likeness. And yet within the silence of the night Stephen knew in his heart that he had been blessed with a visit from Tashunka Witko. The Oglala war chief who had made his name at the battle of the Little Big Horn when Yellow Hair and the 7th Cavalry had been made to pay the ultimate price for all the death and destruction that they had once brought to the lands outside. Stephen closed his eyes and silently offered up a prayer to the Great Spirit for allowing him this vision. When he opened his eyes again he knew that the image had gone before he even looked. As the greyhound bus continued on its journey through the heartlands that is the Black Hills country, it was watched over by those in the Place of Souls. For these spirits of the past stand guard for all eternity, in their valiant attempts to both protect and honour this most sacred of lands and its people. They are also there to act as guides for all true Human Beings who happen to make their way back to their long lost homelands once more.

The Battle within

< The Battle Within. (Taken from an old Cherokee tale.) By the swirling waters of the Little Bighorn River twenty finely decorated tipis stood nestled within a small clump of trees. A band of Lakota, led by their chief Yellow Hand, had made this spot, in a bend of the river, their summer camp for as long as anyone could remember. Because of the heat, the village was quiet; movement kept to a minimum. High above, the sun blazed large and powerful in the clear blue sky. The heat sapped at the strength of everything that moved. Old men, having long ago learnt the important lesson of taking shelter from the heat, sat beneath the shade of a large tree. Younger men lazed around the village, their skin as red as the earth beneath their feet. They sometimes sat inside their tipis in an attempt to escape the hottest part of the day, only venturing outside to either talk or to swim. Young boys and girls played in the dried grubby earth, their laughter and babble drifting lazily across to the group of old men who sat smiling at their antics. “I sometimes wish I could go back and play like that,” Standing Bear said. He sighed and sat back against the trunk of a tree. “I remember when you played,” Bright Star said. He was Standing Bear’s oldest friend. “Most of us were always careful when around you, because of your temper, just like our children are doing when they’re playing with your Grandson.” He nodded towards the group of children that they had been watching. Standing Bear watched as his Grandson approached the group. Little Elk marched across to the happy band of children and instantly began bossing them about, challenging anyone who would not do as he instructed. Their laughter died. Smiles disappeared from dirty faces and the fun that they had been having instantly forgotten. Some of the children drifted away. “I will have to talk to him,” Standing Bear acknowledged. “That would be good,” Hawk said as he watched the boy roughly shove his own Grandson. “I shall do it now,” Standing Bear said. He slowly rose to his feet. “Let it wait, it’s too hot. Do it when the sun is much kinder to us,” Hawk urged him. “He needs to be taught now,” Standing Bear grunted as he walked across to the children. “I should have seen this before, why didn't anyone tell me?” “Because we knew that eventually you would see it with your own eyes,” Bright Star said, “as your own father saw it in you.” “Yes, he did,” Standing Bear smiled at the memory. He then thought about the important lesson his own father had taught him, it was time, he decided, that he taught his Grandson the same lesson. He walked slowly across to the sullen children. When Little Elk saw his Grandfather, his posture and attitude to those around him changed. Gone was the serious look and anger, now upon his handsome face a smile appeared. He treated the younger, smaller, children much gentler now. “Come here my son,” Standing Bear called across to him. The children watched as Little Elk walked across to the old man. Maybe the time had come, the time when Little Elk would get a big whopping from the old man. Since his father’s death in a buffalo hunt it had fallen to Little Elk’s Grandfather to teach him the ways of the Lakota. Some of the children watching would take great pleasure in seeing him get a whopping. Instead of being punished, or indeed ordered to leave them alone, the old man placed an arm around the young boy’s shoulders and led him off towards the river. Now that he was gone, the children returned to their games; laughter once more drifted across to the old men beneath the tree. When they reached the river, Standing Bear looked around for a shaded spot to sit. He found it beneath a steep bank. He sat down and began taking off his moccasins and leggings. Placing them down upon the ground, he urged the boy to sit down next to him. “I am going to wash away the heat from my body. Will you join me?” he asked the boy. “No Grandfather,” Little Elk answered. The old man could sense the boy was annoyed that he had been taken him away from the fun of playing with the other children. “Stay here then,” Standing Bear said. He rose to his feet. With a smile upon his face, the old man walked out and enjoyed the cooling waters swirling around his thin legs. He watched the boy closely and could see his impatience building. “Go back to the village and bring me my hunting knife,” he suddenly told the boy. “But Grandfather it’s too hot to go back now,” Little Elk said trying to get out of going. “Then walk, don't run, that way you will stay cooler,” Standing Bear said looking across at the boy. He watched as his Grandson angrily got to his feet before starting back towards the village. “And don't take long,” he called out to the boy. He could hear the insolence in the boy’s voice as he called back. “I shall be as long as it takes.” When he reached his Grandfather’s tipi Little Elk was so annoyed, so angry at the way his Grandfather was treating him that he did not take care when he searched for the hunting knife. He threw his Grandfather’s possessions around. Forgetting to close the flap of the tipi he did not see the old man watching him from the edge of the village. When he found the knife, he studied it and yearned to have a knife just like it. Holding it in his hand he walked back towards the river. Thoughts filled his head and he imagined himself to be a great warrior; a great hunter. He pulled the knife from its decorated sheath and wielded it at several children who happened to be going in the same direction. “Behold the great warrior Little Elk,” he cried. “Put your Grandfather's knife away before you hurt someone,” Screaming Eagle said. He was not in the mood to listen to Little Elk’s foolishness. “Don't try and tell me what to do,” Little Elk warned him, “or else I shall add your scalp to the others.” “But you have no scalps,” said Shadow Hawk. He wanted to laugh but knew better. “Then yours shall be my first,” cried Little Elk as he ran towards the boys. They scattered in all directions. Seeing them flee in panic made Little Elk laugh aloud. He turned to find his Grandfather standing a short distance from him, again watching him closely. "Put the knife away and follow me," Standing Bear said. Once more, the old man and the boy found themselves back at the river. Standing Bear motioned for Little Elk to sit down. When they were both sitting down upon the bank, the old man held out his hand and took the knife from his Grandson. He placed it down upon the ground. “Why do you need your knife Grandfather?” Little Elk asked. “I don’t need it,” Standing Bear said. “I used it as a test.” “A test Grandfather?” The boy looked confused. “I wanted to see how you would react when I asked you to go and get it for me,” the old man explained. “You went to get it with a bad heart, and then you threw my things around inside my tipi without a care for them, because you had anger in your heart for me, then when you had the knife in your possession your heart desired it.” “All those things are true Grandfather,” Little Elk admitted. He felt a great shame now that his bad ways had been shown to him in this manner. “But how did you know?” “I was once as you are now, my medicine was also troubling to those around me, for a great fight was going on inside of me. My son I can see that there is the same fight going on inside you, it is a terrible fight between two wolves.” The old man explained to the boy. “One wolf is anger, envy, lies, and false pride.” “And the other wolf?” the boy asked. “The other wolf is love, sharing, kindness, truth, and compassion,” Standing Bear said. Little Elk thought long and hard about what his Grandfather had just said. Then he turned to the old man and said. “Which wolf won?” The Grandfather replied. “The one I fed my son. It is now up to you to choose which one you will feed.” Standing Bear then rose and started back towards the village, leaving Little Elk deep in thought. That day Little Elk became aware of his failings. Later when he returned to his Grandfather, Standing Bear gave his much-prized knife to his beloved Grandson. It was something he knew Little Elk had always admired and hoped to have at some time, and the old man thought that time had come. The boy looked up at his Grandfather and asked. “Is this mine to do with as I want?” “It is, my son.” Standing Bear confirmed. Little Elk began looking around the village until he spotted Shadow Hawk a short distance from his Grandfather’s ti pi. Walking away from the old man the boy turned and said. “One of my wolves is hungry; I must go and feed him.” Standing Bear watched as his Grandson went across to a group of children in which Shadow Hawk stood. He heard Little Elk apologizing to them all for his bad ways. He heard the promises that his Grandson made to all those now standing listening to him. The boy told them how he would change his ways. It filled the old man’s heart with love when he saw Little Elk step forward and present Shadow Hawk with his newly acquired knife. Turning away from the astonished group of children the old man entered his ti pi. As he sat down upon his buffalo robe Standing Bear now knew in his heart which wolf would win the battle inside his beloved Grandson. Little Elk would always be grateful to his Grandfather for showing him the errors of his way.
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