Credentials

  • My Grandmothers called English the language of lies
  • because its words are as impermanent
  • as the seaweed that washes ashore
  • and is swept away again with the tides
  • When my Grandfathers spoke
  • their words resonated with Nature
  • and left their traces in the rings of the Trees
  • the patterns of the Clouds
  • and the shapes of the Stones
  • Celo Blackcrow, Lakota Elder

I suppose addressing the matter of credentials is unavoidable, although in the world I am rooted in I have the only credential that really matters:

I am alive

I have had more than my share of physical traumas, click here for more details, yet:

I am alive

I have a remarkable litany of auto-immune and psychological disorders in my ancestry and the family pattern is to die off  in our mid-fifties. I am in my mid-fifties and the midst of a serious healing crisis,  but the general trend is towards living not dying.

I am alive

A dear friend and contemporary who died on his first vision quest told me that many of our generation, from various tribes and lineages, feared spiritual initiation because so few were surviving the experience.  I have also heard that the Tibetan Buddhists rarely sing their Greater Ghandharva for the same reason. In my area, it has been traditional to sing the initiate into the realm of the spirits, where they become aware of and able to carry out the spiritual tasks that sustain life. If they are not able or willing they stay in  that realm.

I am alive

In my Godfather’s experience, no one is qualified to advise others until they are old enough to see their grandchildren grow. Usually by one’s mid-fifties there is the possibility of gaining perspective on the cascading consequences of one’s visions, words, and actions.  I have not felt qualified to teach others until I could see that the consequences of my life decisions were generally constructive.  Unlike previous generations, my generation and the children of my extended family are reasonably self-sufficient, socialized, sober, and yes,

They are alive 

When I speak to others, human or not, I like to speak from a place of personal integrity and experience. One result I wasn’t planning on, and truthfully have been a bit startled by, is to find myself in a conversation with some extremely chatty 70 million year old stones in the geographic area where my genetic ancestors lived. Click here for that story,  while I acknowledge the rune-rock:

Rune Stone 2003

Rune Stone 2003

What I have I learned from this? What to I have to share?

We are life

click for a beginning or for more

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