cherokeestarr's blog: "Native Pride "

created on 08/03/2012 | http://fubar.com/native-pride/b349562

posted on 05/16/2015&nbs-07:00;@&nbs-07:00;11:05&nbs-07:00;am

Spirit Walk
http://fubar.com/native-pride/b349562-1258990

Spirit walk
A Spirit Walk is when you heed the calling of your spirit, journeying where your spirit leads you, so that you may experience that which you to need experience in order to fully realize your reason for being here at this time and at this place.

A Spirit Walk is living not from ego, but from complete being. It requires that you be totally present and totally accepting, so that old habits and ideas do not continue to foster the illusions that have lead you away from your true path.

A Spirit Walk is as much a literal as well as a figurative right of passage. It is a pilgrimage from one state of being to another. While it may involve a journey from what you have come to know as home, it is also a journey to return home, to the spiritual home that you wandered from in the course of living.

A Spirit Walk is not a linear journey. You will journey down many roads and experience many detours, often taking new paths and sometimes returning to old ones. In the end, you will find that you have come full circle, returning to where you began.

If you can turn away from the illusions of the world and reawaken to the awareness of the truth that has always been within you, then your Spirit Walk will return you to the harmony of body, mind and spirit, that the course of living has seduced you away from, and it will have you brought back to your true way.

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posted on 01/20/2015&nbs-08:00;@&nbs-08:00;03:01&nbs-08:00;pm

My 3 Journeys with my Ancestors
http://fubar.com/my-3-journeys-with-my-ancestors/b349562-1244829

Each of us has deep within us, hidden in the recesses of our minds and our very being, vestigial memories of the Old Ones who walked this land long before us. To visit with them, you need only relax, close your eyes, quieten your soul and allow it to drift. Listen to the gentle sounds around you, for among them you can hear the footsteps and voices of your ancestors. The spirits which surround you may sometimes extend an invitation to come with them, to warm yourself by their fire, talk about the ancient ways, hear the legends and tales of the Original People, and join in their songs and dances of celebration and remembrance.
If you are privileged to walk back along the path of time to meet them and to pause there for an instant, hold on to the memories of the journey and value that which you learn, for the trips are repeated only for those who are at peace with themselves and in harmony with the world around them.
here is three Journeys i have taken With my Ancestors
First Journey

I hold a shard of pottery and a flint point,
Both made by ancestors of long ago;
People clothed in woven fiber,
Animal skin, and the feathers of an eagle.
The shard is etched and painted,
Perhaps the remnants of a forgotten legend.
The point is thin and finely made, ready for hafting.
Its keen edge is surprising, the balance good.
The color of the stone shows it came from far away.
I close my eyes for a moment, thinking back,
Remembering old ones now gone.
The shard and the stone warm my hand.
I feel the gentle touch of an ancestor's hand
Guiding my fingers across his/her ancient work.
It is not difficult to make. We will show you.
Grandfather has dark eyes,
Full of experience and wisdom.
Grandmother smiles at me, friendly and warm.
Welcome. Sit by the fire. Share our food.
It is a good life, we have much.
I need to learn much.
Smell the grass and trees,
The water and smoke.
Hear the children, animals, insects, and wind.
Feel with more than touch.
See with more than eyes.
Learn and understand with your mind and heart.
I need to learn more.
We will teach you, but that is enough for now.
It is better to fully understand a few words
Than half understand many words.
May I sit by your fire again?
I will bring a story about tomorrow.
Will you tell me, remind me, of things forgotten?

Second Journey

Tonight we sing the old songs, remembering.
The flute is like the wind,
The drums like distant thunder,
Like buffalo on the prairie.
Voices blend together in song,
A blanket woven from eons of existence.
Smoke rises from the campfire into the sky.
This gathering is good,
Seeing old friends from distant homes,
Dancing to the chant and the drum.
But the ride here was long and I am tired.
I close my eyes and listen to the breeze
Whispering about the Old Ones.
The spring wind blows across the hill
Warming my spirit.
I think back to my childhood
When we made the long trek to this place
Where the grass is green and the water cool.
Father Sun now watches the corn tassel.
An eagle circles overhead.
It is a good sign.
My husband and son will return soon
From their journey to trade for flaking stone,
For shell and an eagle pipe.
I continue working on the leather pouch
My son will wear at the dance.
The white buffalo looks almost real,
Like the one I saw in my youth.
A cloud covers the face of Father Sun,
The shadow passing over me.
As the sky darkens, I close my eyes,
Remembering the gathering last year,
Old friends returning with new stories
To pass on to our children.
The wind as it moves through the trees
Is like the voices of the People singing as one.
The end of the chant sounds.
I open my eyes and rise.
Tomorrow I will dance again
Wearing the white buffalo pouch
Inherited from my great-grandfather,
Made by his great-grandmother.
As I walk toward our tent,
The night owl calls.
Time to dream.

Third Journey

I stand before the mountain
Gazing at images scratched into the stone,
Colored by traces of soot and dyes.
The Old Ones left this record
To be read and remembered
By others who would come after.
I reach out, gently touching the curves and lines,
Feeling with curious fingers,
Wondering who stood here before,
The painter of life, of time.
I slowly pull my hand away,
My fingers are stained
By the colors of fresh paints
Prepared from the plants and the earth.
Beside me stands a man,
Tall, bronze, and bare-chested,
Painting this year's story upon the mountain.
I gaze at some of the old images,
Remembering the voice of my grandfather
Telling the tales and legends of long ago.
I give the painter another bowl, another color.
Below is our village,
The smoke of the fire and the sounds of life
Rise on the wind to the Great Spirit.
The People prepare for the celebration of harvest,
Thankful for Mother Earth and Father Sun,
For full bellies and children who laugh,
For the gathering, the song, and the dance.
The drawing is finished, another year recorded
We silently gather the brushes and paints,
Then together start down the trail,
We stop and turn to look once again
At the many drawings on this monument,
The history of the People in a sacred place.
The man turns his head and speaks,
His eyes on me as one well trusted,
His voice familiar and reassuring,
Are you ready, my brother?
I nod and we turn again to the trail.
The wind stirs my hair,
The sound of a voice lingering in my mind,
Perhaps it was merely the wind
Playing among the rocks.
I gaze at the stone wall before me
At ancient paintings and petroglyphs.
The watchful spirits of my relatives surround me.
I am honored to be one in a long line
That reaches from ancient past to distant future.
The wind stirs again,
Bringing the smell of wood smoke
And the voices of family and friends.
I remember and I understand;
Tonight I live again.

—

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posted on 08/09/2012&nbs-07:00;@&nbs-07:00;03:08&nbs-07:00;am

Native American
http://fubar.com/native-american/b349562-1180590

The Moccasins of an Old Man

I hung you there, moccasins of worn buckskin.

I hung you there and there you are still.

I took you from the hot flesh of a swift buck.

I took you to my woman.

She tanned you with buck brains.

She cut and sewed and beaded.

I wore you with pride.

I wore you with leaping steps over many grounds.

Now, I sit here and my bones

are stiff with many winters.

You hang there and I shall sit.

We shall watch the night approach.

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posted on 08/03/2012&nbs-07:00;@&nbs-07:00;08:08&nbs-07:00;pm

To Walk The Red Road
http://fubar.com/to-walk-the-red-road/b349562-1180334

~TO WALK THE RED ROAD~

Long road winding began in the stars,
spilled onto the mountain tops,
was carried in the snow to the streams,
to the rivers, to the ocean…
It covers Canada, Alaska, America,
Mexico to Guatemala,
and keeps winding around the indigenous.

The Red Road is a circle of people
standing hand in hand,
people in this world, people between
people in the Spirit world.
star people, animal people, stone people,
river people, tree people…
The Sacred Hoop.

To walk the Red Road
is to know sacrifice, suffering.
It is to understand humility.
It is the ability to stand naked before God
in all things for your wrong doings,
for your lack of strength,
for your uncompassionate way,
for your arrogance - because to walk
the Red Road, you always know
you can do better. And you know,
when you do good things,
it is through the Creator, and you are grateful.

To walk the Red Road
is to know you stand on equal ground
with all living things. It is to know that
because you were born human,
it gives you superiority over nothing.
It is to know that every creation carries a Spirit,
and the river knows more than you do,
the mountains know more than you do,
the stone people know more than you do,
the trees know more than you do,
the wind is wiser than you are,
and animal people carry wisdom.
You can learn from every one of them,
because they have something you don’t:
They are void of evil thoughts.
They wish vengeance on no one, they seek Justice.

To Walk the Red Road,
you have God given rights,
you have the right to pray,
you have the right to dance,
you have the right to think,
you have the right to protect,
you have the right to know Mother,
you have the right to dream,
you have the right to vision,
you have the right to teach,
you have the right to learn,
you have a right to grieve,
you have a right to happiness,
you have the right to fix the wrongs,
you have the right to truth,
you have a right to the Spirit World.

To Walk the Red Road
is to know your Ancestors,
to call to them for assistance…
It is to know that there is good medicine,
and there is bad medicine…
It is to know that Evil exists,
but is cowardly as it is often in disguise.
It is to know there are evil spirits
who are in constant watch
for a way to gain strength for themselves
at the expense of you.

To Walk the Red Road,
you have less fear of being wrong,
because you know that life is a journey,
a continuous circle, a sacred hoop.
Mistakes will be made,
and mistakes can be corrected
if you will be humble,
for if you cannot be humble,
you will never know
when you have made a mistake.

If you walk the Red Road,
you know that every sorrow
leads to a better understanding,
every horror cannot be explained,
but can offer growth.

To Walk the Red Road
is to look for beauty in all things.

To Walk the Red Road
is to know you will one day
cross to the Spirit World,
and you will not be afraid…