There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
There is society, where none intrudes.
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more...

-Lord Byron

Definition of Walkabout :

a short period of wandering as an occasional interruption of regular work
Showing posts with label American Indians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label American Indians. Show all posts

16 March 2017

Wukoki & Wupatki

The Sinaqua Indians were here from around 1100 AD to 1250 AD, building a community out of aboriginal masonry in the high desert.

Wukoki means "Big House" in the Hopi language.
Wupatki means "Tall House", and shows more of the lifestyle of the ancient peoples, from arenas used for entertainment, to food storage areas and living quarters. This area was occupied as early as 500 AD.
No one knows why they left the area when they did, but the state of preservation of these sacred places is unbelievably well maintained to this day.

Go back in time, remember on your country's sins, and pay respect to the original inhabitants of this great land.

23 February 2017

Devils Tower

I feel deeply the change in the air the further I go into the Bear Lodge Mountains. The window is down so that the air rushes over me like a cascading waterfall. The leaves are bright orange and red this October day. The buffalo grazing the last of the green grass, and prairie dogs eagerly pop out from their underground homes to look at the newest arrival.

The ominous tower appears before me over a ridge, and my heartbeat undeniably quickens. 
A sacred site of the Plains Indians and many other surrounding tribes of the Black Hills, I respectfully and silently approach the massive formation. Many a wonder I've been lucky enough to behold, but I can honestly say that none have had such influence and spiritual power over me like Devils Tower.
I start to trek around the entire circumference, taking in each crack of stone, the bend of the trees as they seem to bow and worship to a force of Nature that is found here.

Clouds whip and caress around the mighty monolith. My senses become heightened as time loses its bearings. I am transported to another dimension.
The electricity in the air heals my tired and aching muscles as I continue to make my way around. The closer I get to the tower the more intense the feeling. I fall to my knees next to a old Indian woman, close my eyes and listen to her prayer chant in her native tongue. She leaves a colorful garment tied to a tree.
No sound in the forest except for the wind, as though all the animals know to show respect in the Tower's presence.

The sunlight is a glowing comfort as its rays slowly glide down through the thick branches to the forest floor.

The hike around the Tower feels akin to a long and laborious birth, and when you finally reach the end and come out at the base of the Tower, you look around and let loose the discovery found inside yourself.
Perhaps this does not make any sense to you, but as with any spiritual journey, it only matters to the individual making the trek.

04 February 2017

the Crazy Horse Memorial

“He left everything so we can carry on his work, and that’s just what we’re going to do. We’re dedicated to that. His whole life would be wasted if the mountain carving and the humanitarian goals are not completed.”

-Sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski
Located in the heart of the Black Hills is the 27th highest mountain in South Dakota at 6,532 feet. These private lands are preserving the memory of the Oglala Indian Chief Crazy Horse, and the artifacts and history of all Native Americans.

Crazy Horse refused to be moved to reservation land, and was killed at the Battle of Little Big Horn. There are no known pictures of the enigmatic man. 
And so the legend grew.

No government funds are accepted for this continuing memorial, only private donations. Started in 1948, it is a awe inspiring monumental sculpture in progress.

If you would like to help contribute, please check out The Crazy Horse Memorial website.

If you go there and donate in person, you can take a piece of fallen granite from the sculpture. I have mine.

24 April 2016

Guided by ancestor's along the Walnut Canyon rim

I am guided by my spirit ancestors along the rim of Walnut Canyon. I can feel grandfather in a birds call, in the light breeze, in the flowers and trees.

It surrounds me, binds me. 
Calms me.
Curly strands on the agave plant are healing points of nature's acupuncture. I prick myself and leave a tiny trail of symbolic blood as I carry on.

I come to an unexcavated site.
The mysteries and possibilities that lie within are a simple allegory to my life.....

as the lone hawk circles overhead looking for food to sustain his nature.

23 April 2016

The hike around Walnut Canyon Island

700 years ago, the Sinagua Indians found an island in the Arizona landscape that they made their home. Pueblos built into the steep canyon walls provided shelter and protection from the elements.

Today, this sacred place is known as Walnut Canyon.
As the wind whistles through the canyon, a lone flute can be heard in the distance, with an accompanying beat of a drum. Ancestors of the Sinagua Indian and those from other neighboring tribes come to pay their respects to those that once called this place home.
One quietly walks through the early history of America, before the white man.

Before Industrialization, revolution, and the stirrings of independence from one's oppressors.
You enter a time of simply living in the world of the Great Creator, our Grandfather.

03 September 2014

Keeper of the Plains

It was a cloudless summer Saturday as I found my way along the banks of the Arkansas river. No real destination in mind, just a few hours to kill before my flight home from a long week of work.

I stumble upon the Keeper of the Plains, a statue built by Native American artist Blackbear Bosin and donated to the city of Wichita in 1974.
You can feel the Great Spirit whirling around in the reeds along the river, in the feathers of the hungry ducks, in the ridges on the rocks.

The circle of life : Water.Fire.Air.Earth.
Who knew that Wichita had this to offer? I was pleasantly surprised.

16 January 2014

listening to the past on the Santa Fe trail

The sounds of a million hooves rumbling in the tall prairie grasses.

The great American Bison.

The clack of wooden wagon wheels turning, passengers dreaming of what the western horizon will bring.

Pioneers that tamed the trail.
I walk a small portion of the Santa Fe trail in Kansas, and hear the songs of the native American Indian in the wind.

The cloudless blue sky penetrates my soul, rips my body in two.

I feel cleansed.