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Seasons Change - The Circle Continues - Story by ShyHawk(FM)
This story is dedicated to a dear friend and teacher
GrandMother MJ HawkSpirit Everhart
The seasons are now changing. The weather represents this struggle between Winter(waniyetu) and Spring(wetu). The black bear(mato sapa) becomes restless and the awakening begins. This awakening is felt in my heart as well. The land is under siege -- our sacred sites are violated, the peoples needs are not met, and the disease of greed sweeps this land as a plague of green.
As the changing of the seasons is not a subtle quiet change -- neither is the awakening of my heart. Great storms and calms ravage us both (the earth and my heart). Strong winds scour away the chafe to expose fresh soils. As the sap rushes up the trunks to bring new life to the trees -- my blood surges to my heart with a renewed sense of urgency and purpose.
Change does not come without pain. To gain a clearer sense of my life I go to the lake and hope to see in the clear water my true reflection. Now as the seasons;I am neither winter or spring, but somewhere in between.
The weather has been warm for the past week. The snow has left the flatlands to reveal grass greening in the warm sun and tender dandelion ready to harvest. The willow shoots have turned green now with the promise of spring. Trees and bushes have buds ready to explode into unfolding new green.
Today though, winter has reaffirmed its grip one more time. The wind rakes my face as sharp finger nails -- pain stings my cheeks and my eyes water. I feel alone; as almost all life has retreated from the earth to escape this harshness. I watch as one lone hawk is pushed by on a strong gust. Yet, in his appearance I seem to feel things will be all right.
On the way to the lake a large area of old white pines stand. They are skeleton trees at this time. All needles have been lost to Winter's grip. The trees are over fifty feet and almost as wide. A thick needle carpet of yellow softness rests at their feet. This covering keeps their feet warm and will nourish them in the warmer seasons. Soon new needles of soft green will adorn them. Their soft voices will again brush by my ears on a gentle breeze.
The trail winds through a section of oaks. Their voices are loud and raspy. The strong wind rattles the dry brown leaves that crown them still. I stop to reflect on an old story. The story of why the White Pine looses her needles in winter. In this story Winter wants all the trees to recognize his power by shedding their leaves and needles. Only the oak refused of all the hardwood trees -- only the white pine consented in all the firs. To this day the white pine looses its needles in winter -- a sign winter is really upon us. The oak holds its leaves and only drops them when spring has over taken us -- this sign is used here to plant corn safely.
This story helps bring a calmness to my troubled spirit. The old story is still true as the seasons again start to change and the promise of new life is being fulfilled before my eyes. The circle continues. As I cross the ridge to see the lake -- a surprise greets me. The North slope is pure white and glistening! Snow(wa!!!!!!!!!). A piece of winter's beauty remains. I start down the South slope. Here small patches of white contrast against the brown of damp earth and wet leaves. The tapestry becomes more intense the lower in the valley I go. Small teaberry plants peek from the white covering clinging to small red berries shriveled from winter -- yet still so fragrant.
The sun is bright but its warmth has been lost to a cold wind off the lake. Her surface is covered by an opaque white. Surprisingly she wears a thick skin of ice yet. The sun deflects and dances off her surface. As a snake when it is to shed -- the eyes become clouded over ...... this too with the lake -- her surface of once glistening clear ice is now opaque and will soon be shed to reveal a skin of soft rippling crystal clear water. As my own troubled heart must also be clouded over -- for the eyes there cannot see but dim images. As the snake feels vulnerable at this time with no clear vision from its eyes - I too feel confused and lost with no clear vision from my heart. Yet as the snakes eyes will clear with its new skin my hearts path will become clear also with the new season.
The wind stirs ice crystals into small snow devils that spiral across the surface. The crystals whip across my face to remind me of the changes and struggles on this land and in myself. The beauty here brings a tear to my eyes. I am reminded of the struggles to protect places of equal beauty and peace from the bulldozer and the green disease of civilization.
I stand and offer prayers for this place, Aho. The Old Ones whisper to me on the wind. The troubles in my heart are lost and a love of this land and the Old Ones fills me. I feel as though their arms wrap around me and welcome me home. A time of peace and renewed strength before the battles are again enjoined.
I sit in a place of silent beauty along the lakes edge. Here the valley opens before my eyes. The North slope stands directly before me. Its slope of white is dotted with the smooth white and black of birch silhouettes, the rough dark brown skeletons of shag bark trees,and the dark green of many firs. At its peak, a sky of powder blue and bright sunlight greets my eyes. Here the huge puffy clouds race by on a wind bringing great change to the land and myself.
On the South slope I sit. Here the sun strikes me and tries to warm my skin. Today only my heart begins to melt though. I pray for guidance in a drove of young hemlocks decorated with rose shaped cones of brown. As I search across their beauty a friend greets me and a smile is formed from my face of stone and pain. It is the white pine and next to her a pin oak. Again the story rings in my ears and the fears of change fade with the promises being full filled.
I look upon the lake that was completely covered with ice and snow for so long. I remember a visit this winter after a fresh powder covered the hardened old snow of a winter so long. The powder swirled and swept across the surface. The pines danced with a new coat of white adornment. The sun was setting and the pink and purple reflections of the dying day danced on the surface of the lake in places where the snow was blown clear. A man was fishing through the fourteen inches of ice protecting the animals and fish below from the harsh weather. With him was a husky curled tightly in a ball of black and white resting on the barren lake surface. The man had an old sled of wood carrying his supplies. It was as if I was revisited by my ancestors -- a gift from the past yet so appreciated by theses eyes!
Today the lake is opaque white and the ice sheet has retreated several feet from the shore line. Here the small waves of open water lap at the shore and the ice sheets edges. The water is as I remembered -- so clear! The bottom can be seen with no distraction! The shale bottom is beautiful with the different colors of rock pieces mixing and mingling as a puzzle finished and pieced together before my eyes. I look at the ice sheets edges. Small holes are opening in it away from the border it temporarily possesses now. Its edge is uneven in design and thickness. The small waves wash over its surface and small bergs break free to float and disappear. The ice too is changing -- changing from solid to liquid. Each with a different gift to give in a different time -- yet both one with the life of the lake.
Similarly we and the earth change with the seasons. With each season gifts and different faces are presented to the world. Yet they as we are apart of the one universe. Our spirits yearn to become one with the spirit of this universe - One with Creator. I am reminded I am apart of Creator as these things before me. I can not see the whole picture but for now I am comforted in knowing that it is - the circle continues. Aho
I am reminded my people are here as keepers of the old ways and as teachers. The struggles are here for a reason and I will do my best to hold to the old ways of my people(oyate). A calmness now rests in my heart. A heart of my ancestors - I only need to listen to them.
The soft voice of an elder speaks to my troubled heart of these stories I share with you. She feels the power of this place and the Old Ones. I listen to her soft words that are aimed at my heart past this shell -- whose needs confuse my spirit in this time of great change. Her voice is like a soft hand holding mine. Reassuring and comforting -- yet this softness has a great strength to it. She looks on the lake and asks if I see the small water way that has been released from the main body of ice. She says this free water is our spirits. We are free to move about the land at this time as this fresh water ripples past the ice sheet. As the free water effects the shoreline and the ice we two walk in two worlds. We must trust in Creator and allow our gifts to flow free upon this land. As the stories are shown to me again in the physical world by the oak and the pine we sit under, we must remain strong and be keepers and teachers of the old ways -- this is who we are. As the ice changes back to water, in this time of change we must remain the lake -- whether in water or ice still the lake -- true to who we are and true to Creator! This is all we are to be -- remain true!
I am reminded this beauty has been here since the beginning -- my people have see it and appreciated it for thousands of years. Only the past few hundred years has the disease of greed come to over run it as a plague of death. In time this land will rid itself of this blight and it will again be beautiful Aho. Sadly my heart belongs to the earlier times and sees the sadness on this land. Yet this is my reason for being. To speak for the old ways and the land whose voice has been stilled for now.
Last night I stopped before a line of old shag bark trees. They were left there as an illusion. A strip mine is hidden behind their somber beauty. The owners of the mine wish to hide the ugliness of the greed that so scars Mothers beauty. This illusion works, for not many take the time to look behind these old ones and question why?
As my eyes look with sadness upon these old trees who watched their relations cut and bulldozed unable to move to their aide -- as their roots and seeds where scoured from this earth by huge dozers -- as the fresh smells and oxygen rich air are replaced by diesel fumes, my heart feels a sharp pain that drives me to my knees.
From over my shoulder the trees are illuminated by the soft light of Grandmother Moon. I look at Grandmother and feel her compassion -- then I turn back to the wall of trees. In there place stand the Old Ones, arms stretched to me with tears in their eyes and a great pain can be felt in my heart from theirs. No words are spoken, only a deafening pain shared between us. I look back to Grandmother. Her love can be felt in the soft warmth of her gentle rays illuminating my face. I turn once more to the Old Ones. They are now the skeleton trees of winter. Twisting arms of rough bark again reach to me with a somber urgency and a deep pain. The pain is so great it screams to my ears and shatters my heart.
The new season of spring will come with the promise of new life! It will be a time of renewal in who I am. I am a keeper of the old ways and teacher for those who wish to hear. The struggles will be long and many. I must remain true to who I am! Who we are!
True to Creator and the Oyate
Tunkasila Omakiyi miye
Written Late Winter - Early Spring
Time of Change - Yet The Circle Continues, Aho
Dedicated to GrandMother MJ HawkSpirit Everhart
ShyHawk(FM) 2001 ©
© Photographs Evening Rain 2001
© Background made with Paint ShopPro 2001