There is a great organization called White Bison. Their website is whitebison.org
White Bison works to help bring about healing among our American Indian family with their wellbriety program. They also have a daily email they send out with words from our elders. To subscribe to it go to http://www.whitebison.org/meditation/subscribe.php?Submit=Subscribe It is worth reading everyday.
Here is the one for March 16 that I thought was great as usual.
Elder's Meditation of the Day - March 16
"Each of us must know in our minds and believe in our hearts that even though we are different, you are like me and I am like you."
--Larry P. Aitken, CHIPPEWA
One of the definitions of humility is having an awareness of one's own character defects. To recognize and acknowledge that one has imperfections is being humble. We should never pray for ourselves unless by doing so it would help another person. To have self-importance puts self first and this is not humble. We each have strengths and we each have weaknesses. Both the strengths and weaknesses are sacred. Life is sacred. We learn sacred things from weaknesses also. Therefore, all lives are developed through trial and error, strength and weakness, ups and downs, gains and losses- all of these are part of life and life is sacred.
Great Mystery, let me see and know about the sacredness of life.
On May 16th 2009, White Bison will begin a 40-day, 6,800 mile cross-country journey to present and former Indian School sites. It's goal is to promote awareness, dialogue and forgiveness among Native peoples for the historical trauma of the Indian Boarding School Era which began in 1879. You can go to whitebison.org to find out how to take part or how to help support what they are doing.
Those of you that have said I wish there was a way to learn more, to take part or to help here is your opportunity.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Sweat Lodges
By Paula Bidwell
This is a talk about “Inipi” or Sweat Lodge Ceremony. In Native American traditional ways we learn by listening to our elders talk and tell stories. This article is meant to be just that. I will tell the story as my teachers did and then at a later time I will add more to the knowledge.
Imagine we are sitting around a fire maybe at Powwow or maybe Sun Dance, or even in our own backyard. The hour is late and everything around us is still and quiet except for the crackle of the wood burning. A voice begins to speak….
Did you know there are different types of Inipi (Sweat Lodge) ceremonies? Many think the Sweat Lodge is only for cleansing and purification. But, this is not true; there are many kinds of Inipi or Sweat Lodges.
There are Sweat Lodge ceremonies held when a relative has died. These help the deceased person cross over to the other realm. They are usually held for four nights. Night is the time for the spirits of the deceased or “Wanagi”. After the sun goes down, and especially between midnight and pre-dawn, they wake up and are moving around. The four days is the time when the newly deceased is able to communicate important messages and to say their goodbyes. These Sweat ceremonies are also for the mourners to end their official time of mourning. Which is usually 13 moons or approximately one year. The ceremony for the end of the time of mourning is called “Wasigala” and can be done without the Sweat Ceremony.
There are also Sweat Lodge ceremonies for the healing of illnesses. These are called “Doctoring Sweats”. These ceremonies may only have the patient and medicine person in the lodge. The rest of us would stay by the fire and pray or be busy in the house cooking. Or sometime there may be a few singers and other people close to the sick person inside the lodge.
Most of us have been to Sweat Lodges that contact the Tunkasilas or ancient beings for advice and guidance during difficult and perilous times. It is said that in the Sweat Lodge we meet the Tunkasila or elder spirits half way. These sweats are usually very hot. They make us so uncomfortable that we are forced to stay in a state of prayer, which is very far removed from our everyday busy worlds. This is how we meet the Tunkasilas half way. Some us don’t eat or drink so that we are even further removed from our material world. Many of us let our hair loose and unbraided or untied. This is another way to remove us from the material world. We are not concerned with how we look. That is why your elders may tell you not to wear jewelry, or make-up.
Then there are Sweat Lodges for activating, renewing or cleansing of sacred objects, medicines or canunpas (sacred pipes). In the case for cleansing, these are very serious ceremonies. It means that something has happened to the sacred object that has harmed or weakened it. The need to cleanse a sacred object is a very sad thing. Many tears are shed during these ceremonies. For the renewal of a sacred object or medicine is far less serious and is a little like breathing fresh air into it and letting the sun shine all over it. Activating a sacred object is another serious ceremony. It is necessary when a person takes the responsibility of carrying a canunpa (sacred pipe) for the people. This is best done where the Buffalo Calf Pipe resides in Green Grass, South Dakota. Although, I have heard of it done in other places when necessary. Activating other types of sacred objects or medicine can happen anywhere, but usually takes a Medicine person to conduct the ceremony.
Sun Dance Sweat Lodges are especially for the people preparing to Sun Dance they are held frequently during the time of preparation. Sweat ceremonies are also held during Sun Dance for the Dancers and for the people attending.
Hanbleceya, or as you may have heard it, “Vision Quest” Sweat Lodges are held during the one to four year preparations leading up to the Vision Quest. Also they are used just before the person goes on the hill for Hanbleceya (Vision Quest). And they are used immediately when the person comes down from the hill. As an important note, I have used the term “Vision Quest” only because it is so popular and understood by many. But you should know that in Lakota, “Vision Quest” is not the translation for Hanbleceya. The real translation is “Crying or Praying through the night”. Ceya means both crying and praying as they are considered the same thing.
Wopila (Gratitude) Sweat Lodges. These are usually held within a year of a healing or another blessing. A big feast is held afterward and gifts may be given.
These are the most common Sweat Lodge ceremonies, but I’m thinking maybe some of you are wondering how to become a Sweat Lodge leader? This is a natural question. I will tell you how it happened to me. It took many, many years of attending the Inipi with my elders; listening to their stories, taking their words to heart and paying attention when they wanted to teach me. As the years went by I was given a variety of “rights” such as making sacred canunpa bags and medicine pouches, making a ceremony fire, cooking sacred foods, fixing eagle feathers for naming ceremonies, rights to ceremony songs and many others. But before I received the rights to anything I was instructed in all the history, the details, the materials, the origins of the songs and anything else you can think pertaining to the particular skill.
When I was around 35 years old, I received a sacred canunpa from my grandparents and asked to carry it for the family and all our relatives. I accepted. Then when I was visiting an elder relative and attended her Sweat ceremony, at the start of the Sweat she announced to the attendees that I was her equal and that I would assist in conducting this ceremony. Later, I was asked to conduct a Sweat ceremony for some elder women. After the ceremony I was told that I would be conducting these ceremonies the rest of my life. And I have.
This may sound all very complicated and almost impossible to achieve. But, this is how it happened for me and is not necessarily the way it is for everyone. My training was very strict and very lengthy. I hope I have not discouraged anyone. I live off the reservation now and attend Sweat ceremonies that are conducted by someone who although, Indian, never lived with his people or received any traditional training. He received a vision and that is the way he conducts his ceremonies. I attend and respect his ceremonies. They are powerful and serve the true purpose of an Inipi or Sweat Lodge ceremony, even though he wasn’t traditionally trained as I was.
You are all my relatives.
This was written by Paula Bidwell. She has a website at http://www.nativetalismanart.com Not only does she explain things in a good way she is an Artist who makes some beautiful stuff. Take a minute and check out her website. I know she would appreciate it.
This is a talk about “Inipi” or Sweat Lodge Ceremony. In Native American traditional ways we learn by listening to our elders talk and tell stories. This article is meant to be just that. I will tell the story as my teachers did and then at a later time I will add more to the knowledge.
Imagine we are sitting around a fire maybe at Powwow or maybe Sun Dance, or even in our own backyard. The hour is late and everything around us is still and quiet except for the crackle of the wood burning. A voice begins to speak….
Did you know there are different types of Inipi (Sweat Lodge) ceremonies? Many think the Sweat Lodge is only for cleansing and purification. But, this is not true; there are many kinds of Inipi or Sweat Lodges.
There are Sweat Lodge ceremonies held when a relative has died. These help the deceased person cross over to the other realm. They are usually held for four nights. Night is the time for the spirits of the deceased or “Wanagi”. After the sun goes down, and especially between midnight and pre-dawn, they wake up and are moving around. The four days is the time when the newly deceased is able to communicate important messages and to say their goodbyes. These Sweat ceremonies are also for the mourners to end their official time of mourning. Which is usually 13 moons or approximately one year. The ceremony for the end of the time of mourning is called “Wasigala” and can be done without the Sweat Ceremony.
There are also Sweat Lodge ceremonies for the healing of illnesses. These are called “Doctoring Sweats”. These ceremonies may only have the patient and medicine person in the lodge. The rest of us would stay by the fire and pray or be busy in the house cooking. Or sometime there may be a few singers and other people close to the sick person inside the lodge.
Most of us have been to Sweat Lodges that contact the Tunkasilas or ancient beings for advice and guidance during difficult and perilous times. It is said that in the Sweat Lodge we meet the Tunkasila or elder spirits half way. These sweats are usually very hot. They make us so uncomfortable that we are forced to stay in a state of prayer, which is very far removed from our everyday busy worlds. This is how we meet the Tunkasilas half way. Some us don’t eat or drink so that we are even further removed from our material world. Many of us let our hair loose and unbraided or untied. This is another way to remove us from the material world. We are not concerned with how we look. That is why your elders may tell you not to wear jewelry, or make-up.
Then there are Sweat Lodges for activating, renewing or cleansing of sacred objects, medicines or canunpas (sacred pipes). In the case for cleansing, these are very serious ceremonies. It means that something has happened to the sacred object that has harmed or weakened it. The need to cleanse a sacred object is a very sad thing. Many tears are shed during these ceremonies. For the renewal of a sacred object or medicine is far less serious and is a little like breathing fresh air into it and letting the sun shine all over it. Activating a sacred object is another serious ceremony. It is necessary when a person takes the responsibility of carrying a canunpa (sacred pipe) for the people. This is best done where the Buffalo Calf Pipe resides in Green Grass, South Dakota. Although, I have heard of it done in other places when necessary. Activating other types of sacred objects or medicine can happen anywhere, but usually takes a Medicine person to conduct the ceremony.
Sun Dance Sweat Lodges are especially for the people preparing to Sun Dance they are held frequently during the time of preparation. Sweat ceremonies are also held during Sun Dance for the Dancers and for the people attending.
Hanbleceya, or as you may have heard it, “Vision Quest” Sweat Lodges are held during the one to four year preparations leading up to the Vision Quest. Also they are used just before the person goes on the hill for Hanbleceya (Vision Quest). And they are used immediately when the person comes down from the hill. As an important note, I have used the term “Vision Quest” only because it is so popular and understood by many. But you should know that in Lakota, “Vision Quest” is not the translation for Hanbleceya. The real translation is “Crying or Praying through the night”. Ceya means both crying and praying as they are considered the same thing.
Wopila (Gratitude) Sweat Lodges. These are usually held within a year of a healing or another blessing. A big feast is held afterward and gifts may be given.
These are the most common Sweat Lodge ceremonies, but I’m thinking maybe some of you are wondering how to become a Sweat Lodge leader? This is a natural question. I will tell you how it happened to me. It took many, many years of attending the Inipi with my elders; listening to their stories, taking their words to heart and paying attention when they wanted to teach me. As the years went by I was given a variety of “rights” such as making sacred canunpa bags and medicine pouches, making a ceremony fire, cooking sacred foods, fixing eagle feathers for naming ceremonies, rights to ceremony songs and many others. But before I received the rights to anything I was instructed in all the history, the details, the materials, the origins of the songs and anything else you can think pertaining to the particular skill.
When I was around 35 years old, I received a sacred canunpa from my grandparents and asked to carry it for the family and all our relatives. I accepted. Then when I was visiting an elder relative and attended her Sweat ceremony, at the start of the Sweat she announced to the attendees that I was her equal and that I would assist in conducting this ceremony. Later, I was asked to conduct a Sweat ceremony for some elder women. After the ceremony I was told that I would be conducting these ceremonies the rest of my life. And I have.
This may sound all very complicated and almost impossible to achieve. But, this is how it happened for me and is not necessarily the way it is for everyone. My training was very strict and very lengthy. I hope I have not discouraged anyone. I live off the reservation now and attend Sweat ceremonies that are conducted by someone who although, Indian, never lived with his people or received any traditional training. He received a vision and that is the way he conducts his ceremonies. I attend and respect his ceremonies. They are powerful and serve the true purpose of an Inipi or Sweat Lodge ceremony, even though he wasn’t traditionally trained as I was.
You are all my relatives.
This was written by Paula Bidwell. She has a website at http://www.nativetalismanart.com Not only does she explain things in a good way she is an Artist who makes some beautiful stuff. Take a minute and check out her website. I know she would appreciate it.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Marines Are Not The Only Ones Who Sacrifice During War
Cemetery Escort Duty
I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's. Sneaking a
look at my watch, I saw the time, 1655. Five minutes to go before the
cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun.
Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same
level--both too high.
I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked
factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace. An old woman
got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of
flowers--about four or five bunches as best I could tell.
I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly
bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my
hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for
this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.
Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we
might make it to Smokey's in time. I broke post attention. My hip made
gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I
must have made a real military sight: middle-aged man with a small pot gut
and half a limp, in Marine full-dress uniform, which had lost its razor
crease about thirty minutes after I began the watch at the cemetery.
I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an
old woman's squint.
?Ma'am, may I assist you in any way??
She took long enough to answer.
Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these
days.'
?My pleasure, ma'am.? Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.
She looked again. 'Marine, where were you stationed?'
Vietnam, ma'am. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'
She looked at me closer. 'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll
be as quick as I can.'
I lied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'
She smiled and winked at me. 'Son, I'm 85-years-old and I can tell a lie
from a long way off. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do
this. My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one
more time.'
Yes, ma 'am. At your service.'
She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one
of the flowers out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured
something I couldn't quite make out. The name on the marble was Donald S.
Davidson, USMC: France 1918.
She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section,
stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek.
She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943.
She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J.
Wieserman, USMC, 1944.
She paused for a second. 'Two more, son, and we'll be done '
I almost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'
She looked confused. 'Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost
my way.'
I pointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'
'Oh!' she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'
She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones
before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman,
USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970. She stood there
and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out.
OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home.'
Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk?'
She paused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father, Stephen was my uncle,
Stanley was my husband, Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in
action, all marines.' She stopped. Whether she had finished, or couldn't
finish, I don't know. She made her way to her car, slowly and painfully.
I waited for a polite distance to come between us and then double-timed it
over to Kevin, waiting by the car. 'Get to the 'Out' gate quick. I have
something I've got to do.'
Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the
rules to get us there down the service road. We beat her. She hadn't made it
around the rotunda yet.
?Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.' I humped
it across the drive to the other post.
When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short
straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut!
Present Haaaarms!'
I have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention
and a salute that would make his DI proud. She drove through that gate with
two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service
rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice.
I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.
Instead of 'The End,' just think of 'Taps.'
As a final thought on my part, let me share a favorite prayer:
'Lord, keep our servicemen and women safe, whether they serve at home or
overseas. Hold them in your loving hands and protect them as they protect
us.'
Let's all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before in
our thoughts. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.
'In God We Trust.'
Sorry about your monitor. It made mine blurry too!
You are required to pass this on NOW!!!
I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's. Sneaking a
look at my watch, I saw the time, 1655. Five minutes to go before the
cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun.
Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same
level--both too high.
I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked
factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace. An old woman
got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of
flowers--about four or five bunches as best I could tell.
I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly
bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my
hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for
this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.
Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we
might make it to Smokey's in time. I broke post attention. My hip made
gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I
must have made a real military sight: middle-aged man with a small pot gut
and half a limp, in Marine full-dress uniform, which had lost its razor
crease about thirty minutes after I began the watch at the cemetery.
I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an
old woman's squint.
?Ma'am, may I assist you in any way??
She took long enough to answer.
Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these
days.'
?My pleasure, ma'am.? Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.
She looked again. 'Marine, where were you stationed?'
Vietnam, ma'am. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'
She looked at me closer. 'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll
be as quick as I can.'
I lied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'
She smiled and winked at me. 'Son, I'm 85-years-old and I can tell a lie
from a long way off. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do
this. My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one
more time.'
Yes, ma 'am. At your service.'
She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one
of the flowers out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured
something I couldn't quite make out. The name on the marble was Donald S.
Davidson, USMC: France 1918.
She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section,
stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek.
She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943.
She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J.
Wieserman, USMC, 1944.
She paused for a second. 'Two more, son, and we'll be done '
I almost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'
She looked confused. 'Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost
my way.'
I pointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'
'Oh!' she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'
She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones
before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman,
USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970. She stood there
and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out.
OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home.'
Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk?'
She paused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father, Stephen was my uncle,
Stanley was my husband, Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in
action, all marines.' She stopped. Whether she had finished, or couldn't
finish, I don't know. She made her way to her car, slowly and painfully.
I waited for a polite distance to come between us and then double-timed it
over to Kevin, waiting by the car. 'Get to the 'Out' gate quick. I have
something I've got to do.'
Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the
rules to get us there down the service road. We beat her. She hadn't made it
around the rotunda yet.
?Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.' I humped
it across the drive to the other post.
When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short
straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut!
Present Haaaarms!'
I have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention
and a salute that would make his DI proud. She drove through that gate with
two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service
rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice.
I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.
Instead of 'The End,' just think of 'Taps.'
As a final thought on my part, let me share a favorite prayer:
'Lord, keep our servicemen and women safe, whether they serve at home or
overseas. Hold them in your loving hands and protect them as they protect
us.'
Let's all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before in
our thoughts. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.
'In God We Trust.'
Sorry about your monitor. It made mine blurry too!
You are required to pass this on NOW!!!
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Death of a Eagle
This is a good article written by Brookie Craig. I have included the link to the article in case you want to read more about the Eagle Feather.
ath Of A Eagle
Death of an Eagle
by Brookie Craig BTRU93A@prodigy.com
Recently, I went to the Warm Springs reservation in Oregon and then to the Federal Eagle Repository in Ashland Oregon.
You probably never heard of Nathan Jim, Jr. He was a Yakima Indian who was arrested for illegal possession of Eagle Feathers and parts, by the Feds a couple years ago. He languished in fed jail for l4 months awaiting trial and was finally put on probation for this heinous crime. His lawyer appealed it under the new Religious Freedom act which guarantees Native Americans the right to eagle feathers to practice their religious ceremonies and again lost the appeal..He killed himself fearing that (in his mind) it would mean that the feds would rearrest him and sentence him to jail again.
This so moved his prosecuting US Attorney that he grabbed a bundle of eagle feathers at the Fed Eagle Repository (yes..our tax dollars at work) and drove to the reservation so they can use them for Nathan's spirit sending ceremony (burial) but arrived too late so Nathan didn't even get a feather in death.
I decided to continue the challenge to the Feds and drove to Ashland Oregon where they keep dead Eagles (yes..its true they have a Eagle repository there) and with much dread and fear (we NA do not TRUST the feds, having felt their wrath many times in the past) and trembled my way through the door fully expecting the worst.
I was met at the counter by a little old lady who is a volunteer there. While holding my Bureau of Indian Affairs ID card in one hand and my Cherokee Tribal Registration card in the other, I tried to remember my Ancestors who would want my voice to be strong and proud.
I stood a little taller and I said, "I want a Eagle Feather which is my right under the Religious Freedom Act." I expected a lightning bolt to come down but instead saw a gentle smile as she softly said, "Of course," walked over and handed me a a packet of federal forms to fill out with instructions to send in to the Portland office of the US department of Wildlife management.
I smiled as I read that I will have to have signed references from another Elder and Verification from the Bureau of Indian Affairs AND my Tribe to prove that I am, indeed a REAL Indian. References even for a Eagle Feather.
She asks..."Do you want a Bald or a Golden Eagle?"
CHOICES!?!? I'm not prepared..."Do you want just a wing..or talons..or the head...or the whole eagle?"
WHAT?!?!?! I come in expecting to be arrested for asking for ONE feather and they're offering me the WHOLE bird!?! I am confused by the offer and She sees that I'm unprepared for them offering me choices of parts of this sacred bird and smiles her suggestion that perhaps I might want to look
at the drawings of the parts of the bird, circle what I want and include it
with the forms...I am defeated instantly by her gentleness.
I ask her how they send an Eagle to me and she replies through the U.S. Mail..THE MAIL!?! I cannot envision receiving a dead Eagle through the mail and smile at the thought that I might owe postage due upon receipt.
Walking out the door I turn my head and see a stuffed Eagle, sitting silently perched proudly, in a glass cage, on display in the main lobby and overwhelming sadness fills my heart as I realize that another Eagle fell from the sky...a man, also fearful but who stood up for his beliefs, who will never be remembered by anyone for a cause that no one really cares about I guess...and the thought of his falling in vain fills me with a sense of profound grief, for our People believe that the Eagle is the sacred Messenger who brings the messages from our Creator...The thought hits me that no one will hear that message for the Eagle plunged to Mother Earth and perhaps mankind might have had a chance to have heard something sacred, but now...will never know.
There is something terribly tragic in that. I hope someone hears this message and cares about Nathan Jim, Jr. and the Eagle who fell from the sky.
There is something inherently evil in the system of a country, that was founded by people escaping religious persecution, that fills it's citizens with such fear that they kill themselves over what they consider to be a basic right of religious freedom.
http://www.indians.org/welker/eagle.htm
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