400 years ago . . . how time flys
Native American Awareness Month (November 2007)
400 years
All those shadows of time
I have made a free screen saver that works on Windows or Apple Computers. It is a series of painting showing ancient petroglyphs or rock art images from all over North America. There are some other photographs and images, but the theme is mostly images of the ancient mystery, ceremonial life. It is FREE, a gift for the digital new world. Follow this link to reach the download page.
400 years
My birthday was 400 years ago. I was born along an ancient river. The water looked like diamonds as the light from the sky kissed my belly, floating in the river. I was a little otter at that time. Sometimes I could hear the old drums. Some of the other sounds I could hear was the sound of so many feet, feet moving to sound, feet moving through time, feet covered with the dust of the earth. I think they were dancing on the earth, following the flowing river as it carried me along through blue skys and winds filled with songs that seemed to come from far away. Yes, songs from the birds, from the wind in the trees, from all around the old drums. The old drums sounded like my heart sometimes. I would sleep with that feeling.
400 years
Dreaming. In my Dreams I was a man, running with long hair, running and singing, my heart full of the life inside this mystery of my dream. I was everywhere (around myself). I remembered the taste of my woman, the taste of her sacred water, the taste of her belly and all the light inside her mind. Yes, running, running up the mountain of my joy, my sacred earth, with the yes of the Old Ones watching me, guiding me, teaching me with their sacred silence, filling me up. On and on I ran as a man, blood pouring from the wounds of the iron axe, pulsing blood freed from my soul by the iron bullets which exploded like thunder inside my body as I ran, feeling the beauty way as I watched their screaming faces becomes the masks of time, the masks they say which were carried across the great water 400 years ago. Most of us died.
400 years ago
I looked at myself in the fire. I was burning, my whole body smoking. The sweet smell of old leaves from the flowers of the earth filled me up. Like stars falling to the earth, my flames fell all around my body, the smoke reaching not to the sky but down, down the long path, the shining path, a trail, a safe opening. It was like hiding in the wings of the Eagle. His feathers were nearby. The Old Men held my body and the fires burning inside my soul made me smoke and the smoke of my soul touched these Old Ones, this smoke made them sing, they sang about the smoke. They said they remembered everything. Someone told me my name. They called me Sacred Pipe and their words were so soft that I wept and the world around me became all wet and great clouds floated up into the sky only to become water and come falling down again.
400 years ago
I was awake again. Stillness. Silence. To the left of me there was a young boy singing. To the right of me there was a young woman with a beautiful flower from which was coming music
Awareness. Native American Awareness Month. Awareness.
What were you doing 400 years ago?
400 years
All those shadows of time
I have made a free screen saver that works on Windows or Apple Computers. It is a series of painting showing ancient petroglyphs or rock art images from all over North America. There are some other photographs and images, but the theme is mostly images of the ancient mystery, ceremonial life. It is FREE, a gift for the digital new world. Follow this link to reach the download page.
400 years
My birthday was 400 years ago. I was born along an ancient river. The water looked like diamonds as the light from the sky kissed my belly, floating in the river. I was a little otter at that time. Sometimes I could hear the old drums. Some of the other sounds I could hear was the sound of so many feet, feet moving to sound, feet moving through time, feet covered with the dust of the earth. I think they were dancing on the earth, following the flowing river as it carried me along through blue skys and winds filled with songs that seemed to come from far away. Yes, songs from the birds, from the wind in the trees, from all around the old drums. The old drums sounded like my heart sometimes. I would sleep with that feeling.
400 years
Dreaming. In my Dreams I was a man, running with long hair, running and singing, my heart full of the life inside this mystery of my dream. I was everywhere (around myself). I remembered the taste of my woman, the taste of her sacred water, the taste of her belly and all the light inside her mind. Yes, running, running up the mountain of my joy, my sacred earth, with the yes of the Old Ones watching me, guiding me, teaching me with their sacred silence, filling me up. On and on I ran as a man, blood pouring from the wounds of the iron axe, pulsing blood freed from my soul by the iron bullets which exploded like thunder inside my body as I ran, feeling the beauty way as I watched their screaming faces becomes the masks of time, the masks they say which were carried across the great water 400 years ago. Most of us died.
400 years ago
I looked at myself in the fire. I was burning, my whole body smoking. The sweet smell of old leaves from the flowers of the earth filled me up. Like stars falling to the earth, my flames fell all around my body, the smoke reaching not to the sky but down, down the long path, the shining path, a trail, a safe opening. It was like hiding in the wings of the Eagle. His feathers were nearby. The Old Men held my body and the fires burning inside my soul made me smoke and the smoke of my soul touched these Old Ones, this smoke made them sing, they sang about the smoke. They said they remembered everything. Someone told me my name. They called me Sacred Pipe and their words were so soft that I wept and the world around me became all wet and great clouds floated up into the sky only to become water and come falling down again.
400 years ago
I was awake again. Stillness. Silence. To the left of me there was a young boy singing. To the right of me there was a young woman with a beautiful flower from which was coming music
Awareness. Native American Awareness Month. Awareness.
What were you doing 400 years ago?
