šš”š¢š¬ š¢š¬ š°š«š¢šššš§ šš² šš”š¢šš ššš§ šššØš«š š. In the course of my lifetime I have lived in two distinct cultures. I was born into a culture that lived in communal houses. My grandfatherās house was eighty feet long. It was called a smoke house, and it stood down by the beach along the inlet. All my grandfatherās sons and their families lived in this dwelling. Their sleeping apartments were separated by blankets made of bull rush weeds, but one open fire in the middle served the cooking needs of all. In houses like these, throughout the tribe, people learned to live with one another; learned to respect the rights of one another. And children shared the thoughts of the adult world and found themselves surrounded by aunts and uncles and cousins who loved them and did not threaten them. My father was born in such a house and learned from infancy how to love people and be at home with them. And beyond this acceptance of one another there was a deep respect for everything in nature that surrounded them. My father loved the earth and all its creatures. The earth was his second mother. The earth and everything it contained was a gift from See-see-amā¦and the way to thank this great spirit was to use his gifts with respect. I remember, as a little boy, fishing with him up Indian River and I can still see him as the sun rose above the mountain top in the early morningā¦I can see him standing by the waterās edge with his arms raised above his head while he softly moanedā¦āThank you, thank you.ā It left a deep impression on my young mind. And I shall never forget his disappointment when once he caught me gaffing for fish ājust for the fun of it.ā āMy sonā he said, āThe Great Spirit gave you those fish to be your brothers, to feed you when you are hungry. You must respect them. You must not kill them just for the fun of it.ā This then was the culture I was born into and for some years the only one I really knew or tasted. This is why I find it hard to accept many of the things I see around me. I see people living in smoke houses hundreds of times bigger than the one I knew. But the people in one apartment do not even know the people in the next and care less about them. It is also difficult for me to understand the deep hate that exists among people. It is hard to understand a culture that justifies the killing of millions in past wars, and it at this very moment preparing bombs to kill even greater numbers. It is hard for me to understand a culture that spends more on wars and weapons to kill, than it does on education and welfare to help and develop. It is hard for me to understand a culture that not only hates and fights his brothers but even attacks nature and abuses her. I see my white brothers going about blotting out nature from his cities. I see him strip the hills bare, leaving ugly wounds on the face of mountains. I see him tearing things from the bosom of mother earth as though she were a monster, who refused to share her treasures with him. I see him throw poison in the waters, indifferent to the life he kills there; and he chokes the air with deadly fumes. My white brother does many things well for he is more clever than my people but I wonder if he has ever really learned to love at all. Perhaps he only loves the things that are outside and beyond him. And this is, of course, not love at all, for man must love all creation or he will love none of it. Man must love fully or he will become the lowest of the animals. It is the power to love that makes him the greatest of them allā¦for he alone of all animals is capable of love. Love is something you and I must have. We must have it because our spirit feeds upon it. We must have it because without it we become weak and faint. Without love our self esteem weakens. Without it our courage fails. Without love we can no longer look out confidently at the world. Instead we turn inwardly and begin to feed upon our own personalities and little by little we destroy ourselves. You and I need the strength and joy that comes from knowing that we are loved. With it we are creative. With it we march tirelessly. With it, and with it alone, we are able to sacrifice for others. There have been times when we all wanted so desperately to feel a reassuring hand upon usā¦there have been lonely times when we so wanted a strong arm around usā¦I cannot tell you how deeply I miss my wifeās presence when I return from a trip. Her love was my greatest joy, my strength, my greatest blessing. I am afraid my culture has little to offer yours. But my culture did prize friendship and companionship. It did not look on privacy as a thing to be clung to, for privacy builds walls and walls promote distrust. My culture lived in a big family community, and from infancy people learned to live with others. My culture did not prize the hoarding of private possessions, in fact, to hoard was a shameful thing to do among my people. The Indian looked on all things in nature as belonging to him and he expected to share them with others and to take only what he needed. Everyone likes to give as well as receive. No one wishes only to receive all the time. We have taken something from your cultureā¦I wish you had taken something from our cultureā¦for there were some beautiful and good things in it. Soon it will be too late to know my culture, for integration is upon us and soon we will have no values but yours. Already many of our young people have forgotten the old ways. And many have been shamed of their Indian ways by scorn and ridicule. My culture is like a wounded deer that has crawled away into the forest to bleed and die alone. The only thing that can truly help us is genuine love. You must truly love, be patient with us and share with us. And we must love youāwith a genuine love that forgives and forgetsā¦a love that gives the terrible sufferings your culture brought ours when it swept over us like a wave crashing along a beachā¦with a love that forgets and lifts up its head and sees in your eyes an answering love of trust and acceptance. This is brotherhoodā¦anything less is not worthy of the name. I have spoken.
Few things provide more inspiration, more courage, and more healing than the Creator's natural wonders.
Crazy Horse, of the Oglala Lakota tribe, played an integral role in the Battle of Little Bighorn, also known as Custerās Last Stand. His likeness is now carved into a Black Hills mountain at The Crazy Horse Memorial. The famous leader resisted having his photograph taken, often responding to picture requests with āwould you imprison my shadow too?ā The memorial sculptor created his likeness based on descriptions from those who knew him. The grand visage, cut into granite, intends to honor the Native American values that Crazy Horse fought for and defended.
Why The Crazy Horse Memorial Remains Unfinished After 75 Years
Situated on a mountain in the Black Hills of South Dakota, the nearly 600 feet high Crazy Horse Memorial has been under construction since 1948.
The Crazy Horse monument in the Black Hills of South Dakotaās Custer City is a marvel to behold. Despite construction having begun in 1948, the cliffside tribute to the Lakota chief has yet to be completed. Its development certainly makes for a riveting story, but is all the more remarkable for the man it aims to honor.
If completed, the sculpture will depict the Native American warrior on his horse and pointing to his tribal land below ā which the Oglala sub-tribe he led considered sacred. His head is currently the only finished part of the sculpture. At 87 feet high, it exceeds that of each U.S. Presidentās head at Mount Rushmore by 27 feet.
Happy Trails Friend. Blessings
"Life is a song ā sing it. Life is a game ā play it. Life is a challenge ā meet it. Life is a dream ā realize it. Life is a sacrifice ā offer it. Life is love ā enjoy it."
ENJOY DAY DEAR
XOXO
Have a good morning and happy blessing weekend to all. love mary
THIS IS ME////// HAVE A BEAUTIFUL DAY. THIS WAS TAKING 1960 WHEN I LIVED IN NORTHVALE NJ.
Have a beautiful day, GOD bless you all my dear friend, love mary.
