- Clyde Hall
- Emma Pohipe Dann
- Charles Lawrence
- Bear Boy LaRose
- Reginald and Gladys Laubin
- Corbin Harney
- Interview With White Eagle
- Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address
- Learning From The Elders
- Respecting Indian Tradition
- Tenne Wapp
- About Prayer
- Faith – Prayer – Action
- Gifts of Community
- Engaging Great Mystery
- Giving Back To Spirit
Here is the debut of my latest video on behalf of the Keeper of the White Buffalo Calf Pipe for the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota Nations, Chief Arvol Looking Horse, and the upcoming World Peace & Prayer Day to be held in Wappingers Falls, NY, June 19-22, 2014. Joan Henry speaks about the intent and vision of this wonderful gathering for the people, and for the sustainability of our Mother Earth.
May this 19th Gathering of World Peace & Prayer Day attract all those who seek peace, dream of peace, walk in peace, and desire to live in peace on behalf of the eight generations to come. May we be rejuvenated, informed, and inspired to open our hearts in compassion with our peace-loving compatriots, and to renew our commitment to walk softly on Mother Earth.
Please share far and wide…
Awake, my dear.
Be kind to your sleeping heart.
Take it out into the vast fields of Light, and let it breathe.
Peace rain down upon the earth
Strong and sweet
Quenching the fires of
Love rise up from the soil
Clean as dew
Touching the breath of a new day
Holy with kisses
Joy wrap arms around this world with
Sisters and brothers
Hugging hard hearts soft
Breaking bitterness, shame & fear
Tears no longer
Kindness whisper loudly in our ears
And deafen weapons to silence.
While anger is still
— Anna Mosby Coleman
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear, who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
This poetry. I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
What if my task in life is not to find out my calling, struggle hard, and sell it high. But rather, to slow down, inhabit the gap between my dreams and circumstances with a soft, curious flesh. To improvise a way through the forest of life, to fall in love with another I meet on the trail, share food, share grief, honor what is life-giving with voice and deed. Dip down into the present with skillfulness and awe. Contemplate a little more that I and everyone I love is just passing through this embodied experience. And out of that meditation on brevity, on preciousness, I become a song, a dance, a fierce laughter falling from the trees.
— Carter Beale