I love the writings of ~ Chief Seattle ~


~ the letter he wrote to our President

called ~ " Where is the Eagle Gone " ~

Chief Seattle was the Native American

for whom Seattle, Washington is named.

Here is his most famous speech,
truly a masterpiece of art with words.

How Can You Buy or Sell the Sky?

How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land?
That idea is strange to us.
If we do not own the freshness of the air
and the sparkle of the water,
how can you buy them?

Every part of this earth is sacred to my people.
Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore,
every mist in the dark woods, every
clearing and humming insect is holy
in the memory and experience of my people.
The sap which courses through the trees
carries the memory of the red man.

The white man's dead forget the country of their birth
when they go to walk among the stars.

Our dead never forget this beautiful earth,
for it is the mother of the red man.
We are part of the earth and it is part of us.

The perfumed flowers are our sisters,
the deer, the horse, the great eagle,
these are our brothers.

The rocky crests,
the juices in the meadows,
the body heat of the pony, and man
- all belong to the same family.

So, when the Great Chief in Washington
sends word that he wishes to buy our land,
he asks much of us.
The Great Chief sends word he will reserve us a place
so that we can live comfortably to ourselves.
He will be our father and we will be his children.

So we will consider your offer to buy our land.

But it will not be easy.
For this land is sacred to us.
This shining water that moves in the streams and rivers
is not just water but the blood of our ancestors.

If we sell you land,
you must remember that it is sacred,
and you must teach your children that it is sacred
and that the ghostly reflection in the clear water
of the lakes tells us events
and memories in the life of my people.

The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.
The rivers are our brothers,
they quench our thirst.
The rivers carry our canoes, feed our children.

If we sell our land, you must learn,
and teach your children, that the rivers are our brothers,
and yours, and you must henceforth
give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.

We know that the white man
does not understand our ways.

One portion of the land is the
same to him as the next, for he is a stranger
who comes in the night and takes from the land
whatever he needs.
The earth is not his brother, but his enemy,
and when he has conquered it, he moves on.

He leaves his father's grave behind,
and he does not care.
He kidnaps the earth from his children,
and he does not care.
His father's grave
and his children's birthright are forgotten.

He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother,
the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold
like sheep or bright beads.
His appetite will devour the earth
and leave behind only a desert.

I do not know.
Our ways are different than yours.

The sight of your cities
pains the eyes of the red man.
But perhaps because the red man is a savage
and does not understand.

There is no quiet place in the white man's cities.
No place to hear the unfurling leaves in spring,
or the rustle of an insect's wings.

But perhaps it is because I am a savage
and do not understand.

The clatter only seems to insult the ears.

And what is there to life
if man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill
or the arguments of the frogs around a pond at night?

I am red man and do not understand.

The Indian prefers the soft sound of
the wind darting over the face of a pond,

and the smell of the wind itself,
cleaned by a mid-day rain, or scented by the pinon pine.
The air is precious to the red man,
for all things share the same breath
- the beast, the tree, the man,
they all share the same breath.

The white man does not seem to notice
the air he breathes.
Like a man dying for many days is numb to the stench.
But if we sell you our land,
you must remember that the air is precious to us,
that the air shares its spirit
with all the life it supports.

The wind that gave our grandfather
his first breath also receives his last sigh.
And if we sell you our land,
you must keep it apart and sacred,
as a place where even the white man can go
to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow's flowers.

So we will consider your offer to buy our land.
If we decide to accept,
I'll make one condition,
the white man must treat the beasts of this
land as his brothers.
I am a savage and I do not understand any other way.

I have seen a thousand rotting buffalos on the prairie,
left by the white man who shot them from a passing train.
I am a savage and I do not understand
how the smoking iron horse can be more important
than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive.

What is man without the beasts?
If all the beasts were gone,
man would die from a great loneliness of spirit.
For whatever happens to the beasts,
soon happens to man.
All things are connected.

You must teach the children that the ground
beneath their feet is the ashes of your grandfathers.
So that they will respect the land,
tell your children that the earth is rich
with the lives of our kin.
Teach your children what we have taught our children,
that the earth is our mother.

Whatever befalls the earth, befalls the sons of the earth.

If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.

This we know, the earth does not belong to man,

man belongs to the earth. This we know.

All things are connected like the
blood which unites one family.
All things are connected.
Whatever befalls the earth,
befalls the sons of the earth.
Man did not weave the web of life,
he is merely a strand in it.
Whatever he does to the web,
he does to himself.

Even the white man, whose God walks
and talks with him as friend to friend,
cannot be exempt from the common destiny.

We may be brothers after all.
We shall see. One thing we know,
which the white man may discover one
day - our God is the same God.

You may think you know that you own
Him as you wish to own our land,
but you cannot. He is the God of man,
and His compassion is equal
for the red man and the white.
This earth is precious to him,
and to harm the earth
is to heap contempt on its Creator.

The whites too shall pass, perhaps
sooner than all other tribes.
Contaminate your bed,
and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.
But in your perishing you will shine brightly,
fired by the strength of the God
who brought you to this land
and for some special purpose
gave you dominion over this land
and over the red man.

That destiny is a mystery to us,
for we do not understand
when the buffalo are all slaughtered,
the wild horses are tamed,
the secret corners of the forest
heavy with the scent of many men,
and the view of the ripe hills
blotted by talking wires.

Where is the thicket? Gone.
Where is the eagle? Gone.
The end of living
and beginning of survival. --

Chief Sealth (Seattle)

very nice, very long. how ya doing rapunzel

so....how much do you want for it?

So Beautiful

I originally posted this in AG's Mood thread but I
thought you'd also enjoy it here.

The Pipe Ceremony

Red is the east;
It is where the daybreak star,
the star of knowledge appears.
Red is the rising sun
Bringing us a new day
New experiences.

We thank you, Great Spirit, for each new day
That we are allowed to live upon
Our Mother Earth

From knowledge springs wisdom and goodness
And we are thankful, oh Wakan Tanka,
For the morning sun that rises in the east.
Knowledge shall become the beginning
For ultimate peace throughout this world.

This is an example of an Indian prayer beginning with the east. Onlooking participants will also face east while the pipe is loaded in such a manner.

The pipe holder turns to the south and points the pipe stem in that direction. A new pinch of tobacco is held slightly above eye level in a southerly direction. Onlooking participants face south.

The south is yellow.
Our Mother Earth gives us growth,
gives us all that sustains us,
and herbs that heal us.

She brings forth the bounty of springtime
From the warm south wind
and the yellow hoop.
We think of strength, growth and physical healing
And a time for planting our energies,
My friends while we load this pipe.

After such acknowledgement, the pinch of tobacco is put into the pipe bowl. The pipe holder then faces west.

Black is the color of the west
Where the sun goes down.
Black is darkness, release, spirit protection.
In the darkness, the spirit beings come to us.

The spirit beings warn us,
Protect us, foretell for us, release for us.
They are the spirit helpers to Wakan Tanka.

Black is the cup of water;
The life-giving rains come from the west,
Where the thunder beings live.
Water is life.

Black stands for the spirit world
Which we shall all enter someday.
What we do or do not do upon this earth,
We shall carry with us over into that spirit world.
We shall all join together and either be
Ashamed or proud of how we treated one another,
How we respected or disrespected our Mother Earth,
How we respected or disrespected all living things
That are made by the Great Creator,
Wakan Tanka.

We will see each other
And yet know each other in the spirit world.
Those we have harmed,
They will remind us for eternity.
Therefor we must walk the path of truth
With one another.

The west is where our spiritual wisdom comes from
If we care to seek it.

The pipe holder sprinkles some tobacco upon Mother Earth and puts some tobacco into the pipe bowl.
Every time the pipe holder faces a direction, all onlookers face that direction and listen to the speakers words intently.

The last of the four directions is the north.

White is for the North.
Waziya ouye - the north power
Waziya ahtah - the white giant from the north.

Strength, endurance, purity, truth
Stand for the north.
The north covers our Mother Earth
With the white blanket of cleansing snow.
The snow prevents many sicknesses
Found in places without snow.

After the winter snows
Our Mother Earth wakes refreshed
To bring forth the bounty of springtime.
For us two-leggeds
It is the time of long contemplation.
We must think of when we will have
The face of the old.
We will want to look back upon our lifetime
And hope that we stood for the straight road
In our relationship to all things.

It is also a time to do small things,
Crafts and creative works,
In order that we may pass through
And enjoy our long winters wait.

Courage and endurance,
These strengths we seek
And wish to be blessed with
As we stand here facing north.

The tobacco is sprinkled to the north and then inserted into the bowl.

A note regarding prayer or acknowledgement; Indian people memorize few prayers or acknowledgements. Rote prayers are not recommended. The Our Father, common to Christians, would be considered too lengthy a recital to be memorized by traditional laypeople. Sioux holy men, holy women, and medicine people do chant lengthy songs and prayers in a prescribed manner for certain ceremonies. But, by and large, Indian prayers flow from the heart. A prescribed symbology is followed, especially in regard to the four directions. Knowledge in relationship to the east, growth from the south, and so forth are included, but rote prayers are not generally followed.

A note on the colors of the four directions: the red, yellow, black, and white, beginning with red for the east and following clockwise to the south, is in accordance with Black Elk. Some medicine people interpret the four directions as depicted. Many Sioux people, especially those who have not read Black Elk Speaks, however, use other color arrangements; blue is often substituted for black.

Traditional Indians do not squabble over the colors. Rarely, if ever, do arguments spawn over such trivialities. Indian people consider it disrespectful to argue over the Great Mystery's mystery. Acknowledge, respect, and do not harm one another or interfere with another's spiritual visions are cardinal traditional Indian principles.

After acknowledging the four directions, the pipe holder touches the pipe bowl to the ground.

Green is the color for Mother Earth.
Every particle of us comes from her
Through the food we take from her daily.

We all start out as tiny seeds.
We have grown to our present state and status
Through what she provides.

She is truly our Mother
And must be acknowledged and respected.

Tobacco is sprinkled upon Mother Earth and the pipe is loaded. The pipe is then pointed at an angle to the sky. We usually point our pipe towards the sun; if it is evening, we point it towards the moon, to acknowledge Father Sky.

Father Sky gives us energy from the sun.
Father Sky provides the fire that
Fuels our homes and our lodges
And the energy that moves our bodies.

Father Sky has daily communion with our Mother.
Together, they are our true parents.

Some tobacco is sprinkled on the ground, and the major portion is loaded into the pipe.
The pipe receives a portion` of tobacco one last time, and then the pipe is held almost straight up into the sky.

Wakan Tanka,
Great Spirit, Creator of us all
Creator of the four directions,
Creator of our Mother Earth and Father Sky
And all related things,
We offer this pipe.

-authorship traditionally unacknowledged

This beautiful prayer for the Peace Pipe Ceremony was found
online here without any further reference of authorship.

http://www.think-aboutit.com/native/peace_pipe_ceremony.htm

Hi there Sand n Pearls

well, truly...

considering the sad state of affairs

and this endless war going on ..

i am as well as my brothers and sisters over there

for when even one person suffers .... we all do


Ah yes....this work is so lovely & long...

yes...but so appropriate & he was such a visionary

what insight !!! ...

what depth of heart & such incredible tenderness

if only we could all learn from his words


He was one heck of a dude ...

what was in that peace pipe ?

And to think that people called him savage

it is Not for sale

Oh man....s1owhand ...you are so right on, too


I will read this in depth a bit later ,

when i can really give it my all...


thank you so very, very much , dear Buddy

LEE...


Mirror mirror on the wall..


You are one of the sweetest of them all

These were both very nice. Gives some real insight into the spirituality of the Red man, and makes me wish I had been raised by people who held all of nature to such high esteem. It’s a beautiful view of life, and far from the traditional views of the White man who unfortunately doesn’t respect nature and animals on the same spiritual plane with human.

This is indeed sad, not only from a spiritual point of view, but in the practicalities of everyday life. As Chief Seattle so wisely and correctly pointed out,… Contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste. The truth of his words slowly and inevitably being revealed.

Abracadabra....James...


I am honored that you would come visit

and express your feelings and thoughts here...


yes, tis true ,

all that he said is unfolding and revealing itself...


People often ask me if i am American Indian

and they ask me if i am tribal...

And i consider it a huge compliment

even though i am also very proud

of my Italian / Sicilian Heritage


yes, i have my Christian upbringing

but i have always related strongly

to the original teachings of the red man

<not by those who have forsaken their ancestors>

(and are consumed with gambling & casinos

and firewater, fast food and fireworks

so prevalent on the Olympic Peninsula,

in Washington state for instance...)


i also hugely relate

to the Essenes too, by the way

who used the elements for purification...

the earth ~wind ~ fire ~ and water



thank you so much James

Love you & Hugs to You

I wish everyone would read this thread...


for it holds such an incredible wealth


that no amount of money


can even begin to fathom

There is NO GREATER shame that I carry.
As that of our ancesters, who allowed the American Indians
to be sluttered and their lands stolen.
All because,,,,,,,,WE COULD!!! And to THIS DAY through out this GREAT AMERICA, they still suffer poverty and unhealthy
living conditions....Children with their smiles damaged because
of no medical coverage to fix their teeth and THATS ashame.
AND LOOK AT WHAT WE HAVE DONE TO THIS MOTHER EARTH!
EVERYDAY,,,The river that runs through Indiana, the Wabash.
You can't eat any of the fish longer 13 inches. Because their contaminated with toxins...and LAKE MICHIGAN, the same condition..

SORRY..

BOTH RAPUNZEL and Slowhand,,,,GREAT WRITES and great people to LET EVERYONE SEE AND FEEL...THANK YOU BOTH.

Absolutely Terry...


thank you so very much

for your powerful message

let's try to keep this thread going,

so everyone will have a chance

to read & really absorb this ...

inspired prize possession

pardon???

i 'm not catching your drift, dear

maybe you can send some smoke signals

and i'll be able to read you better

the poem - prize possession - end of satan says thread ...

never heard of it


would you please you send me a link?