Hanh mitakuyapi.
I was reading a back issue of National Geographic this morning as I ate breakfast and there were several articles on decimation of species, both land and sea.
It occurs to me that the tone of National Geographic's articles has changed in the past roughly 10 years, from reporting on how marvelous various places and/or species are to how endangered. Have you noticed this, or are you just a passive watcher, but not a wonderer?
There are only 3 kinds of people, after all.. those who watch what happens, those who make things happen, and those who wonder "what happened?!?!". With luck, I'm generally in the first 2 categories, and I strive to stay out of the 3rd one. Still, when I find myself in that 3rd category, I use failure analysis to try to determine what went wrong, why it went wrong, and with luck, how I can prevent recurrences in the future. I learned it long ago from an article on a major glass maker; I figure if it was good enough for them, it's certainly good enough for me.
Throughout history, and until recently, everything I've read about the oceans and the "New" world (i.e., Turtle Island, my Peoples' home) stated how "limitless" they are. The prairies, the buffalo, the passenger pigeons, the virgin forests, the fish, the water, the air, the sky. What a gigantic lie!
Just as there ain't no free ride, there ain't no such thing as "limitless", at least within the bubble we live in - the biosphere surrounding and including our Holy Mother the Earth. And if you notice, every entity I listed above as considered "limitless" is now either extinct or in danger of extinction.
The only tall grass prairie left is the Flint Hills in Kansas. The buffalo have been brought back from near extinction - there were fewer than 500 left when someone decided to save them.. The passenger pigeon is gone. Saving virgin forests from loggers is a constant battle, and there aren't many patches of them left - certainly nothing like the thousands of square miles that were here when the enviornmental rapists began invading from Europe. Fish? Over 90% of the oceans' fish stocks are gone due to over-fishing. Over-fishing, of course, is due to 2 things - gross human over-population and waste of caught species not intended to be caught. Water pollution is an ongoing battle; and recently there was a spate of articles on contaminants found in every water sample tested, from every part of the land. Air pollution is rampant - witnessed by smog, often called 'the price of progress' by enviro-rapists.. If that's progress, I'll take regress gladly, although the fact is, much 'progress' can be had without pollution - it is simple greed that makes the enviro-rapists fight so hard against doing things in a responsible fashion, and showing respect for our Holy Mother the earth and our place in the web of life. But then, such people don't respect anything - including themselves - thus they fight having to show that they don't know what respect is, and that they don't know how to show it.. As for the skies - satellites, airplanes, rockets crowd the skies. It's nearly impossible to go anywhere on earth - no matter how isolated, and not see one of more of them, or evidence thereof..
Once again, we has met the enemy, and he is us, takoszja. Humans. Not the "mightiest" species on earth save in one way - the potential to cause utter devastation by means of irresponsible treatment of the many resources available to us from Her bounty. Humans made the problem, other humans can turn the mess around - provided enough of us 'other' humans get busy and act.. The time is now. Actually, it was decades ago. Catch-up is never a fun game. Pity we 'other' humans have allowed this mess to develop.. My prayer is that it's not too late. The spiritual responsibility for the devastation that has occurred rides in varying degree on every one who has treated the biosphere with disrespect.
So what have you done today to help heal the Sacred Hoop of the world, of which you, too, are a part?
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
On Motivation
Hanh mitakuyapi. Motivation is an interesting thing. It comes from attitude, some sage has said, and is "everything" when it comes to whatever results one produces. I'm not entirely sure this is always true. Motivation comes from many sources, in my mind; some of them downright funny.
I was out at my initipi - sweat lodge - recently, working in the river it sits next to. I was wearing chest-high neoprene waders I had borrowed from a friend, as I thought the water would be too cold to wade in this time of year. Since I had had fibromyalgia since before the condition had a name, I avoid becoming cold and wet whenever possible, as I 'rust' and stiffen like the tin woodsman if I don't.
The day was alternately darkly cloudy - sometimes spitting rain - and partly cloudy - partly sunny. Beautiful day no matter, with scudding clouds, light breeze, and warm temperatures.
Anyway, when I waded into the river to plant sweet grass (wah-CHAHNH-gha) along the banks, I found that the muck close to the bank was half-way to my knees, making movement difficult; and that the water was actually quite warm. It felt like bath water, in fact.
Since my friend's waders have size 12 boots and they came up under my armpits, I decided not to wriggle my way back out of them, and just go on. Besides, the muck would ruin the only shoes I had with me, and I didn't want to do that, either. I looked pretty cute, you can be sure. So? I don't care.. I was there to do holy work, not be in a fashion show.
I shplucked my way slowly along the bank, the muck suuucking on the boots and trying to pull them off my feet with every step, making holes & inserting plugs of sweet grass,, then scooping water up and mudding the plugs in. Sweet grass is a marsh plant and loves being wet. It should be ecstatically happy where I put it. That's my hope and prayer..
Suddenly, the light dimmed enough suddenly enough to make me look up. Dark charcoal grey clouds were racing in from the northwest. Then the breeze picked up considerably. It was going to rain again, and it didn't look like it would just be mist this time.
Since the lodge site's entry road is difficult to get up or down in dry times, I didn't really want to get stuck there should we have a gully-washer rain. The Plains is notorious for gully-washers, and I would be camping there for a day or two if I got stuck. It wouldn't be a big problem, but it would inconvenient. I thought I would put in another plug of sweet grass and then head to the pickup, get out of the waders, and leave. Apparently the Spirits had another idea.
Suddenly less than a minute later, there was an earth-shaking CRACK! of thunder behind me on the ridge above the river! Thunder comes from lightning. Any water attracts lightning, certainly a river does.. And the charge travels up and down the river some distance from the strike, if the lightning hits the water. Neoprene waders or not, the Spirits were telling me I needed to leave the river "Right now!" This last thought occurred to me in a flash as I hauled myself up the bank and my size 12 boots out of the muck at a speed admirable in athletes, which I no longer am. (Most of the time, I walk with a pronounced limp from a number of old injuries.) Muck or no muck, oversize boots or no, I literally leaped up out of the river like SuperWoman and landed on the bank, scrambling for higher ground. Truly a video camera moment, and of course, no camera.
(a) There's never a video camera handy when these sights occur, and (b) cameras are not allowed at holy sights such as sweat lodges. Yes, takoszja, it is about 'capturing the spirit of the moment'. Thus no cameras are allowed to be used.
I clomped to the pickup, where the dog was at the end of his cable, panting to get back in the truck, and put him in. Then I did a really fancy wriggling dance to get out of the waders and put them away while jamming on shoes. Through all of this, the drumming of thunder, rising in intensity, but no rain. Insistent, the spirits are, sometimes..
I started the pickup and trundled up the access road out of the valley and as I got to the top of the hill, lightning began to dance along the ridges on both sides of the river. The cell phone can see a tower from up there, so I called my friend who lives further up the road & told her where I was and that I was going to wait out the rain and the lightning before coming by for a visit, since there are gates to open and close, and lightning likes to run along fence wire almost as much as it likes to play in water. She thought that was a super idea.
Forty-five minutes or so later, the rain, lightning, and thunder had passed by. I had some beautiful pictures of the greening ridges around the river. The lightnings did not come to shake my hand at any time. And the sweet grass was well mudded-in - a good omen, even if my leaving the river lacked grace and dignity.
I was out at my initipi - sweat lodge - recently, working in the river it sits next to. I was wearing chest-high neoprene waders I had borrowed from a friend, as I thought the water would be too cold to wade in this time of year. Since I had had fibromyalgia since before the condition had a name, I avoid becoming cold and wet whenever possible, as I 'rust' and stiffen like the tin woodsman if I don't.
The day was alternately darkly cloudy - sometimes spitting rain - and partly cloudy - partly sunny. Beautiful day no matter, with scudding clouds, light breeze, and warm temperatures.
Anyway, when I waded into the river to plant sweet grass (wah-CHAHNH-gha) along the banks, I found that the muck close to the bank was half-way to my knees, making movement difficult; and that the water was actually quite warm. It felt like bath water, in fact.
Since my friend's waders have size 12 boots and they came up under my armpits, I decided not to wriggle my way back out of them, and just go on. Besides, the muck would ruin the only shoes I had with me, and I didn't want to do that, either. I looked pretty cute, you can be sure. So? I don't care.. I was there to do holy work, not be in a fashion show.
I shplucked my way slowly along the bank, the muck suuucking on the boots and trying to pull them off my feet with every step, making holes & inserting plugs of sweet grass,, then scooping water up and mudding the plugs in. Sweet grass is a marsh plant and loves being wet. It should be ecstatically happy where I put it. That's my hope and prayer..
Suddenly, the light dimmed enough suddenly enough to make me look up. Dark charcoal grey clouds were racing in from the northwest. Then the breeze picked up considerably. It was going to rain again, and it didn't look like it would just be mist this time.
Since the lodge site's entry road is difficult to get up or down in dry times, I didn't really want to get stuck there should we have a gully-washer rain. The Plains is notorious for gully-washers, and I would be camping there for a day or two if I got stuck. It wouldn't be a big problem, but it would inconvenient. I thought I would put in another plug of sweet grass and then head to the pickup, get out of the waders, and leave. Apparently the Spirits had another idea.
Suddenly less than a minute later, there was an earth-shaking CRACK! of thunder behind me on the ridge above the river! Thunder comes from lightning. Any water attracts lightning, certainly a river does.. And the charge travels up and down the river some distance from the strike, if the lightning hits the water. Neoprene waders or not, the Spirits were telling me I needed to leave the river "Right now!" This last thought occurred to me in a flash as I hauled myself up the bank and my size 12 boots out of the muck at a speed admirable in athletes, which I no longer am. (Most of the time, I walk with a pronounced limp from a number of old injuries.) Muck or no muck, oversize boots or no, I literally leaped up out of the river like SuperWoman and landed on the bank, scrambling for higher ground. Truly a video camera moment, and of course, no camera.
(a) There's never a video camera handy when these sights occur, and (b) cameras are not allowed at holy sights such as sweat lodges. Yes, takoszja, it is about 'capturing the spirit of the moment'. Thus no cameras are allowed to be used.
I clomped to the pickup, where the dog was at the end of his cable, panting to get back in the truck, and put him in. Then I did a really fancy wriggling dance to get out of the waders and put them away while jamming on shoes. Through all of this, the drumming of thunder, rising in intensity, but no rain. Insistent, the spirits are, sometimes..
I started the pickup and trundled up the access road out of the valley and as I got to the top of the hill, lightning began to dance along the ridges on both sides of the river. The cell phone can see a tower from up there, so I called my friend who lives further up the road & told her where I was and that I was going to wait out the rain and the lightning before coming by for a visit, since there are gates to open and close, and lightning likes to run along fence wire almost as much as it likes to play in water. She thought that was a super idea.
Forty-five minutes or so later, the rain, lightning, and thunder had passed by. I had some beautiful pictures of the greening ridges around the river. The lightnings did not come to shake my hand at any time. And the sweet grass was well mudded-in - a good omen, even if my leaving the river lacked grace and dignity.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)