The Native People didn't rely on paper, books, publicists or even remarkably, speechwriters. They had an Oral Tradition. I take back this word had, once said it made me cringe. One hopes and prays that this tradition will not only not be lost but will encompass the way we of the Western World communicate.
Russell Bohan, Chippewa wrote the following poem:
The spoken word
is creation renewed.
Conceived in the mind
and born with the breath of life,
What I say to you
is sacred.
These words are my creation,
but always they are
My responsibility.
I choose not beauty nor anger,
but truth.
Words, communication, have a life of their own. Words ride on the wave of communication, it is exhaled from the consciousness of the one into the collective pool which is us. We as living beings navigate the air surrounding us and either enrich or pollute this invisible sea with our words.
It begins with our breath, our breath articulates words that possess a spiritual energy which reflects our visions of reality. Words have the virtue to defeat or empower, to kill or to heal, to delude or enlighten. Words are born, they take a life within those that accept them - consume them - and there they grow and take roots.
The spoken word is a sacred principle. When spoken truly they resound and interact in a beautiful dance that can only be felt in the heart. What makes it "truly"? I believe it's when the words we speak reflect the way we are - they resonate from within the other - nurturing, enlightening, enriching, invigorating. It means understanding and expressing our perspective with the correct relationship with our self and our environment.
Simon Ortiz explains, "Our language is the way we create the world...Man exists because of language, consciousness comes about through language, or the world comes about through language. Life - language. Language is life then."
Well, so much for "speaking with a forked-tongue"! When I first heard this remark in some old western, I wondered what it had meant? I thought of a snake, who was sneaky and devious and possibly lethal. As I grew I thought it was about double standards, two faced, hypocritical liars. We need to join and become as one, thereby no longer will there be an other to deceive.
The circle becomes complete with the listener. The one who listens also has a responsibility. Listening is a privilege that is awarded to the one who respects , values and appreciates other peoples differences. Listening is an opportunity to learn a different perspective. Listening without judging, without reacting - it's an act of observance. The words that are offered to the listener needs to observed with eyes that can see into the soul of the other. Then begins the play and the dance. The words of the speaker can be transformed into the enlightened perception of the listener.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
The Native Heartbeat
Jeffrey French-Begay, Mohawk and Army medic came to us after the Pow-wow in State College Pennsylvania bearing gifts.
He said “I’m so glad you guys didn’t leave, I just ran to my car to bring you this.” He presented to Herbert two red feathers wrapped in soft buckskin at the base.
“I wanted to give you this, they are red hawk feathers. It’s not finished yet – this means that we need to meet again so that I can finish it.”
He turned to me, knowing that my son was a Navy Corpsman, and presented me with his gift. “This is my pin that I wear on my uniform.” Jeffrey is an Army Medic. I took it in my hand it was a small enamel pin shaped like a shield. The design contained two crossing arrows and three flames of fire.
I looked at him incredulously. My son is so proud of his ribbons and the pins he received – each one he had to earn. “This is precious.” He replied, “Yes, I know, that is why I am giving it to you, you and your husband have touched our hearts.”
This was the culmination of our first Pow Wow in State College.
After enjoying a meal of Buffalo burger we entered the hall just as the powwow was starting with the Grand Entry. A procession of dancers were entering the previously blessed dance arena. The procession was led by the Eagle staff representing their Nations, elders and their way of life. The flag bearers were the Native American US Veterans of War. They represented soldiers from as far back as World War II.
Then the Men in traditional costumes entered the circle of dancers followed by the women dancers in traditional attire. The jingle dancers were particularly enthralling .
The Jingle Dress is also called a Prayer Dress...The dress came in a dream to a medicine man who's daughter was gravely ill. The dress is decorated with rolled up snuff can lids that are hung with ribbon close together to jingle as the woman moves creating a beautiful, joyous sound. The jingle dance asks for good health for the people.
The drums sets the rhythm of the powwow. It represents the heartbeat of the Mother Earth. As the circle of men sing their songs and strike the drum in their midst, the drum acts as an agent to bring harmony and balance to all in the powwow. It is the intermediary to the spiritual realm.
The rhythm and the percussion felt like it reached the depth of my soul - there was so much energy in their song and in their drumming. They enjoyed it so much, their faces were beaming!
Just as we were leaving Jeffrey said to me, "As I understand it, Namaste means, the essence in me recognizes the essence in you. In our language we say, mitakuye -oyasin, which means we are all related - we are all one."
This is Sonya French-Begay WIA Program Director of Three Rivers American Indian Center, her son, her husband Jeffrey and yours truly Angela Reininger.
He said “I’m so glad you guys didn’t leave, I just ran to my car to bring you this.” He presented to Herbert two red feathers wrapped in soft buckskin at the base.
“I wanted to give you this, they are red hawk feathers. It’s not finished yet – this means that we need to meet again so that I can finish it.”
He turned to me, knowing that my son was a Navy Corpsman, and presented me with his gift. “This is my pin that I wear on my uniform.” Jeffrey is an Army Medic. I took it in my hand it was a small enamel pin shaped like a shield. The design contained two crossing arrows and three flames of fire.
I looked at him incredulously. My son is so proud of his ribbons and the pins he received – each one he had to earn. “This is precious.” He replied, “Yes, I know, that is why I am giving it to you, you and your husband have touched our hearts.”
This was the culmination of our first Pow Wow in State College.
After enjoying a meal of Buffalo burger we entered the hall just as the powwow was starting with the Grand Entry. A procession of dancers were entering the previously blessed dance arena. The procession was led by the Eagle staff representing their Nations, elders and their way of life. The flag bearers were the Native American US Veterans of War. They represented soldiers from as far back as World War II.
Then the Men in traditional costumes entered the circle of dancers followed by the women dancers in traditional attire. The jingle dancers were particularly enthralling .
The Jingle Dress is also called a Prayer Dress...The dress came in a dream to a medicine man who's daughter was gravely ill. The dress is decorated with rolled up snuff can lids that are hung with ribbon close together to jingle as the woman moves creating a beautiful, joyous sound. The jingle dance asks for good health for the people.
The drums sets the rhythm of the powwow. It represents the heartbeat of the Mother Earth. As the circle of men sing their songs and strike the drum in their midst, the drum acts as an agent to bring harmony and balance to all in the powwow. It is the intermediary to the spiritual realm.
The rhythm and the percussion felt like it reached the depth of my soul - there was so much energy in their song and in their drumming. They enjoyed it so much, their faces were beaming!
Just as we were leaving Jeffrey said to me, "As I understand it, Namaste means, the essence in me recognizes the essence in you. In our language we say, mitakuye -oyasin, which means we are all related - we are all one."
This is Sonya French-Begay WIA Program Director of Three Rivers American Indian Center, her son, her husband Jeffrey and yours truly Angela Reininger.
Sonya was recently interviewed by WPSU public television trying to raise awareness about the desecration of Native Indian land by mining companies strip mining for uranium, causing devastating environmental and health problems. Please view this informative interview at http://www.wpsu.org/TV/episodes/lobbytalk A Conversation with Sonya French-Begay.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Somewhere midstream my story begins...
The Guru
An unstructured poem
A spark of light deep within projected without
Shinning like a multi-faceted diamond.
Knowledge shines from an inner source and pours out like a symphony.
We are all divine flutes each hole an inner spring
Synchronizing the microcosm with the macrocosm
It’s a real hip tune…
Taking a little side step – it’s a dance
Meandering through the notes, playfully, turbulently, permeating.
Once in a while – just for the fun of it – taking a plunge
Only to slow to a gentle flow…
The still small voice within
A roar of thunder
The wellspring becomes the ocean
From the Earth’s core the spring is emancipated into the sea
Into the eternal external
What became of the internal, interminable, immortal?
The Guru surfs the wind
It’s like, can you capture the wind in a bottle?
That which is innately free has to flow unimpeded, you cannot categorize it nor memorize it
The surfer is in sync with the wind – he lets it be, he becomes it…
Life started midstream
Just when it felt like it was ending
There came a glimmer of a new start
Life is just like that
Off beat, in beat, a quarter beat
No beat, be – just be.
An unstructured poem
A spark of light deep within projected without
Shinning like a multi-faceted diamond.
Knowledge shines from an inner source and pours out like a symphony.
We are all divine flutes each hole an inner spring
Synchronizing the microcosm with the macrocosm
It’s a real hip tune…
Taking a little side step – it’s a dance
Meandering through the notes, playfully, turbulently, permeating.
Once in a while – just for the fun of it – taking a plunge
Only to slow to a gentle flow…
The still small voice within
A roar of thunder
The wellspring becomes the ocean
From the Earth’s core the spring is emancipated into the sea
Into the eternal external
What became of the internal, interminable, immortal?
The Guru surfs the wind
It’s like, can you capture the wind in a bottle?
That which is innately free has to flow unimpeded, you cannot categorize it nor memorize it
The surfer is in sync with the wind – he lets it be, he becomes it…
Life started midstream
Just when it felt like it was ending
There came a glimmer of a new start
Life is just like that
Off beat, in beat, a quarter beat
No beat, be – just be.
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