SAVE THE EAGLE MOUND

Please check out Ed's Page on "My Links of Interest" because this information is on his Website for your opportunity to explore the Native Teachings of our Homeland, America. This is the most Vital time in History because it is now that we need to examine these teachings. My spiritual-grandfather Chief Frank Fools Crow, spoke of this time were living in as it being time for all nations to recognize our Oneness. I am grateful for Ed Little Fox for sharing along with his Friends on his Links.



SAVE THE EAGLE MOUND


INTRODUCTION
There are many issues of Native American concern deserving of attention and support.
Preserving Sacred Sites, and this one in particular, is important as it represents the beliefs and spirituality of a 10,000 year old culture, which is the link from the distant past to the present, and a key to the future. Sacred Sites are a means of connection of Man to Mother Earth and Father Sky, and to all things that dwell there-in, the physical and spiritual realities, the forces of nature, the expanses of the universe, and the Creator of all.

In just 200 years after contact with the Spanish explorers, approximately 95% of the Native American population had been wiped out by European weapons and disease. In the ensuing 300 years the descendants of the survivors have had their lands stolen, were forcibly and tragically relocated, had their rights of culture and religion denied, children taken from families, and suffered many other atrocities to try to annihilate their culture and force them to assimilate into the dominant society.

Despite the worst of conditions, some survived to carry on their heritage and re-claim their culture. Under threats of death, and many paying that price, their spiritual beliefs and knowledge of Old Ways were secretly passed down thru the Wisdom Keepers.
The discovery of this ceremonial site, and information regarding it's past, are due to the knowledge passed on from generation to generation, and the guidance of Creator that brought things into place.

Now the time has come to bring forth this legacy of the ancestors to public awareness, so that it may be preserved from desecration and destruction, and restored as a place of spirituality, higher learning, peace, and unity for all Native American Peoples. As such it will stand as a symbol for all Peoples of the world, and of the coming time when the Eagle of the North will again fly with the Condor of the South.

The future of Eagle Mound is in our hands








Message from the Hopi People -- People of Peace

We have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour.
Now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour and there are things to be considered.

Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in a good relation?
Where is your water?

Have you prepared you family?

Can you live from the Earth?

Know your garden.
It is time to speak your truth
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader.
This could be a good time!

There is a river flowing now very fast
It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.
They will try to hold onto the shore.
They will feel they are being torn apart and they will suffer greatly.
Know the river has its destination.

The elders say we must let go of the shore, and push off into the river, keep our eyes open, and our head above the water.
See who is in there with you and Celebrate.
At this time in history, take nothing personally.
Least of all ourselves.

For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.
The time of the lone wolf is over,
Gather yourselves!

Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that you do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
"We are the ones we've been waiting for..."

(The Elders, Hopi Nation, Oraibi, Arizona)

Contributed from Ed's Pages/ Growing Up Native (Click on Link)

JUST ANOTHER COLORED WOMAN

This story was derived from a black woman's experience whereby she was being evicted for; (quote)” attempting to make a cultural statement on the properties where she was living.” Being that she had been given permission by the previous owners to teach on the land this made the eviction seem suspicious. The new property owner was overheard saying to another person not of color, that she was just another colored Woman! This piece is dedicated and written on behalf of this woman in hope that individuals will be mindful of the words that they choose to use and the power that they contain, to build up or to tear down. May we always remember the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks!


She's Just Another Colored Woman!


She's had 30 something operations in her life and she's only 50 plus years old, but she's just another colored Woman!

She has traveled all over the United States discovering her roots and teaching others to care about theirs, but she's just another colored Woman!

She has pitched tents, dug fire pits, moved the grandfathers (stones) all over the country to redistribute energies (history/herstory), but she's just another colored Woman!

She has helped women everywhere she has traveled, to become visionaries, better mothers, better sisters, better lovers, better community builders, but she's just another colored Woman!

She has traveled not only to discover her own roots, to build bridges to others, but she's just another colored Woman!

She has rediscovered and felt the pain of injustice to her people in her search but she's just another colored Woman!

She has survived the injustices inflicted upon her because of her birth but she's just another colored Woman!

She has remained quiet in the quake of all out discrimination but she's just another colored Woman!

She has worked on forgiveness at the core of her being when some have never tried, but she's just another colored Woman!

She has worked on her own healing through her craft but she's just another colored Woman!

She will rise again like the Phoenix from the ashes because she is a colored Woman!

She is a web weaver, a medicine woman, a midwife, a wisdom keeper, a storyteller, and she is a colored Woman!

She is a colored woman, she is a powerhouse of the Spirit, she is an instrument of the Most High, so don't be mistaken the next time you think you see just another colored Woman!

Written and Submitted by: Brenda Williams/ Sacredflower

The Great Impersonator

I had a lady one time tell me in a reading... you are a great impersonator! I didn't really know if that was an insult or a complement. First, I had to think about if I knew what the word really meant. Yeah, I guess I could agree with that but I would describe it as a survivor. I guess she was saying that I could fool a lot of people to my benefit. This is something I think actors/actresses go to school for. Maybe I missed my true calling? One of the benefits of being an only child is that you do a lot of observing people's behavior, even when they don't realize it. Body language has a message of its own. I have realized that my white face has helped me a lot because my children have always reminded me of white privilege. With a white face, at least you get in the door and sometimes heard. Of course, women have a tendency to try and block one another; after all, you do have to get past the receptionist. After a lifetime of thinking that my studying, applying myself, positive thinking, assertiveness, and divine intervention was what got me in, I was reminded by my children constantly, that my white face had a lot to do with it. Once you got in, you were able to display your attributes in order to sale all what you had to offer, by way of your talents. With a little bit of divine intervention you could be well on your way toward the experience you had asked for. When the opportunity presents itself, sometimes we regret the choice but we learn a lot out of it. My heart bleeds when I see my children and friends of color not have that same chance. I feel that, those of us that have white faces, have the responsibility of stepping in any way that we can to help another person have the chance to be heard and seen in this society. If this is the way I use white privilege, hopefully it will work towards healing racism. Every person has the right to work and make a living for their family. Even if someone walks a disruptive path but wishes to try it another way, they deserve a second chance. I feel that we as a people cannot turn others away because they have bucked the system only to find that maybe it didn't quite work out as they thought it would. Compassion will create a whole new society for the giver as well as the receiver. If we do not give people a chance that are looking for it, someone else will be waiting to tear down their self-worth for their own selfish gain.(Drug dealers, pimps, employers that are looking to exploit, etc…). We are hurting not only the individual but we are hurting our society because once someone lowers (abases) themselves; it's even harder to change them. God uses all of us as he/she sees fit. So, be ready at all times to be used for the good. Use that white face if necessary to make someone else's day! Be an impersonator if that is what it takes. There are those that only see what they want to see and that may be just your white face!

MY QUEEN

It was 4:00 a.m. on September 21, 2007 in New York city when I was running through the airport trying to make my flight on time and when I was just about to make it to my terminal,Bam! I fell to the floor not knowing what hit me. My bags were everywhere, clothes all over the place, when I look up, there she was speechless looking at me with the most beautiful face, like a queen! She was quickly picking up my boxer shorts, jockstrap, ( oh no! Not that I was thinking!) and her underwear, bras, along with everything else that had fell out of her bags. This was a pretty common scene for people that didn't leave home early enough to make their flights on time. We both were apologizing to one another and just trying to get re-acclimated to where we needed to be. I was trying to pull myself together straightening my vest, adjusting my pants to where I could look as though I still had it all together. We thanked each other and hurried off. I got to the ticket agent in time to get on board but I had lost sight of where this beautiful queen had disappeared to. I rushed to find my seat and when I got there, I was shocked to see that there she was, my mysterious queen. I sat down and smiled. Hi again, smiling I said. My name is Woody and yours? I am Queen Christina from Yanesta, Egypt. My eyes just about fell out, oh my God, she is a queen! We began to talk about each other's lives and she discovered that I was a Christian and that she was a Muslim. Then the conversation began to go in all kinds of directions because neither one of us felt like we needed to defend our religions, as a matter of fact we were amazed to find the commonalities between our faiths. We began to talk about each others everyday lifestyles. Then I discovered that late at night she gets herself a big bowl of buttery popcorn, calls up her girlfriends and listens to each other's stories on conference call because they have a writing group. I told her that since I travel for a living there isn't much that I do that's traditional. I said that I have crazy cravings late at night like, pancakes. She laughed with the most beautiful chuckle. She doesn't eat pork which I can understand from her faith in. She shows me pictures of her country and I am looking at llamas, while I share pictures of my travels where she had never seen a moose. We both just laughed as if we had known each other forever. Getting to know this queen was certainly a treat that I would never forget. We continued to talk and laugh until we both fell off to sleep. I'm sure that while I slept, I dreamed of my Queen.

FROM ANOTHER VIEW

Lunchtime at work is always the time of day I look forward to because I can do some cooking in the kitchen. While I'm sitting around the table all kinds of ingredients come out for the recipe of the Day.

Today my friend José sits with me and we start talking about the politics of our different countries. He starts our discussion about culture by him telling me that he wanted to be buried in his country when he died. I guess I was kind of surprised because his wife and children are here in America. His wife is American and his children are Mexican-American. I questioned him about whether or not he had considered his family may want to visit his graveside. He was sure that because of his tradition they would understand. I have witnessed a lot of funerals and my experience with the families left behind has been the statement most declared is, no one told me that!

Death is something that a lot of people would rather not discuss. The wishes of the deceased are sometimes never carried out because all the immediate family members were not told of the deceased wishes. It can be a very disturbing time for those left behind, even with the best plans. Heartstrings are not easily broken.

I listened to Jose intently as he told his story of his sacrifices to be in this country. He said that he had told his story before many times but a lot of people did not believe him. He was seven years old when he started working in Mexico to help his parents at home financially. He would take his monies home to his mama when he got paid and she would give him what she thought he needed. After high school, he chose work over more education because he saw the poverty in his town and he wanted to help his family.

When José came to this country with his father he came to work tobacco. Coming over here he had to do whatever was necessary to survive. That included drinking unclean water from creeks where cattle and other animals drank, along with whatever else the animals did at the drinking hole. One of the things that I admired while listening to José's story was how he always used his money to help his family including a brother that was furthering his education as a doctor.

While I sit at that table with my friend listening to his experiences on this side of the border I realized that he earned his rights to be in this country and to enjoy the fruits of his labor some 30 plus years later. I also realized that as an American voter I could not go along with any immigration policies implemented that would change his ability to stay here now or ever. There are people born in this country that have not earned the right as much as this man that sat in front of me to live in this country freely.

I cannot imagine what it must feel like for people that come to this country, in the name of freedom from poverty or religious persecution, must emotionally and mentally go through wondering, if today will be the day. The day that a person in the White House with the power of the pen, could change in just one moment in time, their entire destiny if they deemed it necessary.

It is amazing how, by just hearing someone's story, it can empower you, with knowledge that could change the course of history, by your power to vote. When people’s entire level of existence can be affected by a law, in my opinion this law has to be voted upon by the entire population of a country.

I feel that the jury of our peers should be implemented in this situation. The jury should be all the voting people of the land. Knowing someone and being able to put a face in the story, makes all the difference as to how one understands the implications of the charges and sentencing. It seems to reason that when we as a people stop getting in the business of how our country implements its decisions on law, we also stop caring about what freedom represents.

I am grateful to my friend José, for sharing some of his story with me because I hear this story in the many faces of survival in our country called the land of the Free. For me, this means that every one should listen to one another's stories before we just believe what we are told is in the best interest of our country. We are talking about people's lives, not numbers.

The next time I hear about immigration issues I will be really paying attention to what is being said for the sake of my many friends faces that I have a name for not just a number.

I am so grateful for the kitchen table and what is served up there for the soul.



Submitted by: Brenda Williams/Sacred flower @ The Writer's Cafe'

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE MONEY

"It's all about the money, ain’t it", was his question to me. I have always enjoyed my conversations with people that are not originally from this country. The question that Sha’ presented to me this time had me really thinking because it's not the first time in our conversations that he has posed it for discussion.

I reflect back to our conversations of him coming to this country at a very young age of eight years old. He already had become accustomed to his culture, and then drastically was presented to an unwelcoming environment of American schools. I could really understand why this question of money became a theme in his life. There is no doubt that America is losing its appeal through the dire disease of materialism fueled by selfishness and greed. When any country has been given the title of, “land of the rich and famous”, people have a tendency to want to experience that ideal.

Children are treated different in our schools by what they bring to the table, materially. There is no doubt about that, our children are suffering with the cut in school budgets, underpaid and overworked teachers, along with the pressures put on the principles to meet the numbers expected of them in testing. Everyone is rushed and pushed to provide success in the numbers for the politicians who are trying to prove that they are the ones who can get the job done at any cost to the children. The separating doesn't just start in the lunch rooms, it starts at home.

When we have the conversations with our children about what success is what do we say? Is success the college degree, the fight to get to the top of the best companies, the biggest house your money can buy, the name brand products and clothing in the interest of quality? What is quality? Does it define who I am? Who am I? Does my achievements to define who I am? At what cost must we win? Where are the boundaries? When does family values come first? Do they ever rank first? When do we say it's enough? At what cost, to of us as families, a community, a nation, yes even the world, are we willing to pay? Are these the values we want to cultivate within our children, should be the question.

Will the materialistic drive in this country destroy everything in the name of freedom? Going back to my friend's question; “isn't it all about the money?” This is a question I think is worth pondering individually as well as collectively. How far are we willing to go and what are we going to sacrifice within our families just for the money. To my friend I would like to say, yes, on the surface, if we're not careful and observant everything in our lives will be driven by the money. Let us all be mindful. We are not the first generation to be challenged and asked to step back, look at the bigger picture and make a choice that you want to live with. The choices that have been made by those that we have placed in power and our own decisions have brought us where we are today. Now we have to be accountable for what we bring on the next seven generations. I pray that I will pay attention to what I contribute to the whole. Hopefully others will do the same.

Money will always be an issue in our lives, which is the design of our economy; however, it is important that we drive the car, not the car driving us. It is time for true freedom in a country that prides itself on the word freedom. Are we prisoners within a society that calls itself free? Maybe that's another thought to ponder. Especially since our free society continues to build prisons rather than reconfigure its teachings. Tell our people, to free themselves from the shackles of this world is what I am screaming!


Submitted by: Brenda Williams/Sacredflower@ The Writers Cafe

WRITERS and FREEDOM

Freedom is a word that frightens most writers because most writers of the heart know that freedom is something rarely experienced in published forum. By the time the truth has been chopped up and dissected from the heart of a piece, you're only left with something that is acceptable by the powers at large within your society. When I read Kahil Gibran's letters in, “A Second Treasury of Kahlil Gibran”, I realized what the implications of freedom experienced by a true writer felt like. I could identify with what the soul is experiencing and wanting to share opposed to what our society is willing to hear or accept. This is the challenge before all artists/writers I suppose. Eventually, it seems that it comes down to finding a forum that will allow your voice to be heard, until you are considered worthy, which may not even be until after your death. Maybe we have to just write, come what may and be content as to who receives it. When it is time it will be discovered by those whom are worthy to receive. As writers we are the blessed ones to have received the understanding which we write about. To have the bounty of birthing something into creation is a gift beyond measure. We have to continue birthing so what is within will not spoil. All things within, have purpose without. Just as there are children birthed into the world, that others, see no use for, it is the same for ideas. Everyone and everything birthed has purpose. For those that can see, it is a blessing. We have to keep challenging ourselves to change, rather than maintain only one perception as to how it is now! If change does not evolve ones thinking, then progress cannot be obtained. The organic process of progress is why the same things continue to be written. There are those souls who are ready to receive and it flows forth from the pen for the ones that await its arrival. It is by the grace of something more Divine, that every season brings forth a fresh supply to partake from. What may seem new, is only so for its receiver. Ancient truths exist in eternity, for the discovery to the one whom is on a quest of unfolding its delicacies. To savor its sweetness, is as refreshing as a warm summer breeze. To stand in the essence, of the embrace that holds one to its endearment, is beyond words. The journey one follows in the deep silence to depths of spiraling unfolding, leads one back to the center of true embrace. This moment, fills the soul with a remembrance that cannot be contained. Again the pen flows. Once again, will we be heard? Being heard is not as important anymore as staying in the eternal flow, which begins to take a life of its own.


Submitted by: Brenda Williams/Sacredflower @ The Writers Cafe