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Thanksgiving - A Day of Reflection <A HREF="mailto:FM [EMAIL PROTECTED]?subject=StoryTellers - Thanksgiving -"> ShyHawk</A> [Unable to display image] This morning breaks with a bright blue sky. Streaky wisps of white race across the horizon. The wind is strong and the temperature in the teens. The soft yellow glow of the eastern sky reflects on my face and the touch warms my heart. As I enter the forest today, my heart is heavy. Today is Thanksgiving, for most of this country a time of joy. For me It is a time of reflection. This day seems to match my feelings. The wind cries through the trees. As I walk along the Noisy River, I think of the name given it by the Unami People. I seek a place to say morning prayers and greet the new day -- the new beginning. I pass several beautiful places but they do not feel right today. I told my wife I would not be long. Now time seems to fade. My face stings from the gusts of wind. My ears burn and begin to numb. My eyes begin to tear. Still I walk on. I see the beauty of this land and can only imagine its wonders when the forest stretched across all this land. My heart tells me to stop -- this is the place. It is hard to lite the sage today as my hands are stiff and numb from the cold. The sweet smell is stolen away quickly today on an unrelenting wind. I spread my blanket on the shore overlooking a cascade of the river. They seem quiet today -- their music is hidden by the rush of the wind through the trees. I offer tobacco to the Four Directions, INA, and Tunkasila. I pause to listen and for the first time the beauty of this place catches my eye. The river runs before me with a dark blue hue topped by small white waves crashing over the granite rocks. The rocks sparkle with little speckles of color trapped with in them. The far shore is a solid wall of hardwood trees. Many shades of gray and browns mix and mingle together to form a tapestry in my eye and heart. For a moment my heart is lifted and an inner warmth makes me forget the sting of the wind for now. Before me stand three trees only feet apart. I did not notice them upon my arrival. On the left is an old shag bark tree, in the middle stands a large beech tree, and on the right a small sassafras tree. Surrounding them are small bushes devoid of leaves now. Their twisted limbs are brown and form a lace pattern. This subtle appearance is highlighted by many bright red berries -- a stark beauty that stands in great contrast to all the dull browns and grays surrounding them. Behind this scene is the majestic blue horizon and soft yellow sphere slowly rising -- it appears to lift from the river s surface this morning. I look on the old shag bark tree. The bark is in thick layers -- rugged and wrinkled. The limbs are knurled and twisted. The trunk is over two feet. The tree has seen many years and changes along this Unami Shore. My mind wanders and time fades. I see before me an old elder from this land. He speaks not but I feel his pain. My eyes tear and my heart breaks. I remember the lies and harsh treatment of these fine people. I think of the destruction of the land that continues even now. Before my eyes an old village opens before me. One that now only has traces left to be seen by the human eye. I see the forest as it was. I see the teaching circles, marker stones and trees, and the mounds. My heart grows even lower with the thought of losing even this land I pray on today. For I know not how long it will remain unscarred. In three days a vote comes to save or develop the land of my ancestors. All that can be done has been done -- but I fear greed will win in the end. My mind clears and I now pray for guidance and lessons. I feel there is more to be done. I ask for Creator to guide and teach me -- to prepare me for these battles. For the first time this morning I am joined by others. A small flock of black ducks fly over at tree top height. I hear their approach. Their wing beats are one of the fastest and the whistling sound can be heard before they can be seen. It is a great gift. They are a beautiful sight. Usually they would have long since left this area for southern territories. Wopila, Tunkasila. I now focus on the middle tree -- the beech tree. It is not quite as large as the shag bark. Its bark is smooth and lighter in color. The tree stands straight. It does not show the ravages of time and scars of battle that the shag bark wears as a symbol of age. In this tree I see myself. As this tree my feet are rooted in this mountain. Yet as this beech I have not the scars as the old tree. Without these scars I also lack a lot of the lessons learned from the battles given with age. I reflect on the responsibility I now carry in trying to protect this land. The people of this land were to be Protectors the Old Ways and Mother Earth. As the beech stands in the shadow of the shag bark - I too stand in the shadow of the elders and ancestors. Here the shag bark tree helps the beech by shielding it from the winds and weather with its own body. I look to the elders and my ancestors to speak to my heart. I need to learn from their lessons. In this way I may do my best in the many struggles facing this land and our people. Although the struggles seem to never end -- my heart again begins to warm. I feel the old ones gather near to me. For a moment the time between us fades and we stand together enjoying the moment and beauty surrounding us here. For me - I wish this could last forever. Time and place are forgotten. The pain of life is gone. For the instant I am united with my old families and the land. Creators gifts stretch before me and I am content. Aho Now the small sassafras catches my attention as it sways wildly in the strong wind. It is not stiff with age as the other two brothers it stands in the shadow of. Here I see the face of my son. I wonder what will remain of these gifts for him and his children. I am reminded why I struggle so to keep the culture, the language, and the land. I now see the trees as the ancestors, our generation, and the generations to come. I see how the old ones speak to my heart, the elders try to teach me, how I try to teach the next generation, and how the young ones grow under our shadows and examples. I again thank the Grandfathers, Mother Earth, and Creator for all the gifts they have given me on entering this shell. I thank them for all the lessons and gifts given to me till this day. I thank them for the lessons shared and teachers shown to me. I thank them for this land that is still unspoiled and all the gifts contained in it. Aho I ask for guidance to keep my feet straight. I ask for lessons so I may be more effective in the struggles ahead, I ask nothing for myself. I ask these things for our people and the children to come. I sit silent and still. I do not feel the cold. I am warm and my heart swells from the experiences given to me this morning. It is a good day(Anpetu waste'). Gifts of tobacco are offered in return before rising to leave. Now reality renters my life. My bones ache, my muscles are stiff, my hands can barely flex, and my ears are numb. Yet my heart burns with a renewed warmth. I am thankful for this and every day Creator places before us. With this the whistling sound again is heard - I look to the sky and a second flock of black ducks streak overhead. We both most be on our way from this wondrous place. The short trip I told my wife of has stretched into a full morning and she will be worried. Tunkasila omakiyi miye. Written by ShyHawk, [EMAIL PROTECTED], Thanksgiving 2000 Dedicated to the Elders and Old Ones who teach and lead us, Wopila. 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