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Why Can You Not Assimilate? Why Can You Not Forget?
Today I travel to the small valley of Antietam. The land has been under siege for about a year and a half now. The valley is surrounded by wooded slopes funneling into a small lake. The lake is home to many water fowl, hawks, an occasional eagle, fish, turtles, deer, bear, brush wolves -- these are but a few. The land is covered in beech, tulip poplar, pine, laurel, wild azalea, honey suckle, different herbs and berry plants, poison ivy, grasses, and many more. The soil consists of a soft earth over a layer of granite and quartz which protrudes through the thin surface in every direction.
Plans to scour this place are on the table -- to build high end housing. The lake would have a sewage treatment plant for its skyline. The trees would be timbered off. History would repeat itself -- the now clear streams and lake would again become tainted. The animals would be gone. The forest would again be removed. I was asked once -- do people not learn from past mistakes. Sadly, I must answer no. Here this land, if not protected, will have the same destruction again overcome it as in the 1800 s.
My father brought me to this place often in my youth. We hiked the trails and enjoyed the animals and forest plants and trees. The earth smelled sweet. The song birds twitted around us. Hawks cried from over head. We followed the streams to the lake. The small clear streams were filled with life. I liked to catch crayfish and then release them.
Today I am reminded of these trips. Once more I come to walk the lands of my fathers. A dear friend who grew up on this land and her daughter accompany myself and my Clan Mother. My father spoke often of the power of this place and how special it was. I always felt a good energy their, but did not understand till my later years. Stories have been told by locals that this valley was used as a hunting camp by the native peoples. Written history teaches a different tale.
Something pulls me to this place besides its great beauty -- a peace, a voice. I need to find what makes this place special to my heart. What drives me to protect it. My small family starts out up a steep slope to an area grown up with thick cover over the years. The slope is covered in pine. The earth is damp and the smells so sweet. The trees stand tall with their limbs high in the canopy. Dark trunks are wrapped in vines. The ground is covered in carpet moss and a heavy liter of dead fall. The old limbs and trunks are adorned in thick mats of green. Pine needles soften our steps carefully placed into the small openings between the limbs. Hawks cry. The air is warm and the wind gentle.
At the top of the slope a clearing opens amongst the pines and the hardwoods. A good feeling is in our hearts. I feel at home on these slopes. I thought maybe it is only me -- but no. Each of us feels the same things and the same pull. We search the thick ground cover. Here the opening is covered in thick tall brown grasses laid over from winter. Draped over the rock outcroppings and limbs. Small natural shelters are created every where for the small fourleggeds. Everywhere are deer tracks and droppings. Ravens circle overhead -- wings out stretched.
Stone walls are found from the 1800 settlers -- but then in a small run of granite and moss are found remnants of older walls. This is for what we searched. The people were here! They are still here. An old spear point of red shale was found. For me this stone is special to this land. I feel honored to hold this tie to the past. For a moment the two times are one in my heart and hand.
I move into the clearing to offer my prayers and thanks to Creator and the Old Ones. The ravens visit with me. My old friends Kola and Miye. As I pause to listen a voice speaks to my heart. I am truly home again. Hard to believe after all the years of devastation to this land and our people -- things still remain -- both physical and spiritual. Tobacco is offered for these gifts shown to me this day in this place.
People ask why I cannot let go of the past. Why can you not assimilate? Standing here feeling and hearing the things I do -- no words can truly express why. The past is my ancestors. The past is the land. The past is all things. The past lives in my heart and guides me. Mitakuye Oyasin - I am all things and they are in me. Respect and honor all things! Why can people not honor our people -- our lands?
We move deeper into the valley and there before us is a small shelf. Circular and level with no trees growing upon it. My heart leaps. This is the village. On the slope another shelf is found and remnants of old stone walls. A stream runs below us. Huge granite outcroppings draped in mosses add such strength and beauty to the site. A small beech tree has buds for another year on its thin limbs. The trunk is almost completely gone except for on thin strip reaching from the ground to its top. This little survivor says much about this site. Here we are once again after hundreds of years standing in the old village. We are the thin piece of bark maintaining the life of our culture and protecting the land and the Old Ones here. As the tree brings forth leaves to fight one more season our shadows fall across this sacred earth one more time. We reclaim our heritage and our lands -- we ready ourselves for one more fight!
This is Unami lands. We are the teachers and the protectors -- for this reason we have survived all the attempts to exterminate our peoples. One more time the eyes can look upon the old places and visit with the Old Ones as it was. Once more the battel will be joined to protect this place. Oh I wish I could just stay here in peace and listen to the pines whisper their stories to me. All I ask is to be on the land given to us by Creator with my ancestors in peace and respect. Why is this so difficult a request? Must all the earth be scoured and disrespected to make man happy?
Here I can be a human being. We find a tree trunk shredded by the resident black bear. From this place a large granite shelf can be seen. I am told here is the den of the brush wolf. Squirrels play in the leaves. A small stream trickles down the slope to meet a larger stream in the valley below us.
I sit in one of the circles and touch and smell the earth. Here I feel my father smile. He knows that I have found my way all the way back. I am one of the people and I will fight to protect them and the land. I feel his strength. I feel his happiness. I remember an elder who recently has become an ancestor. I hear his words and lessons. I am reminded of all he did for the people. I am reminded of a great friend and family member who also has recently crossed. Her lessons are many. The elder who travels with me this day is also a great teacher.
They all show me the importance of INA. Our mother gives us all we need every day. Even now when most throw garbage back on here in return for her gifts - INA still feeds and heals us. Here in this place INA reaches up through the souls of my feet and gentle speaks to my heart. She heals the pains of the past months and renews my strength.
The elder and friend I speak of in this place softly speak to my heart. I will try to carry on in their absence. They cared for those in need without question, they taught our cultures and stories with those they meet, they loved and respected the land and all things, they protected the old places, they remembered and lived by the teachings of the Old Ones..... I hear their words and see their faces in this sacred land.
Here along with my friend Laura. The history is remembered. The people and their stories -- more important their teachings and lessons will live. The stories and lessons now will live on through me in this place. The Old Ones have not let these things be forgotten - I am grateful!
I am awakened by strong winds ripping through the tree tops. A cold rain begins to fall. Trees crack and limbs fall. A cold front roars in from the north. Change is on the wind -- my path to is again energized and a clear path stretches before me.
A new energy comes to this place. Hopefully I can in some way protect it and keep the Old Ones stories alive here where they belong. I was visited by geese, hawks, and ravens this day. Each represents one of the ancestors I have spoken of and love dearly -- but honor even more. They have visited my eyes in these forms this day and their spirits spoke to my heart once more.
Why can I not assimilate? Why can I not forget the past? Why is it so important? I still have no words to answer the original questions of this writing. Maybe you the reader can after looking into my heart and seeing the land spiritually and physically?
ehas' slolwaye sni! (surley - I do not know)
I only know in these special places: all that was -- all that is -- and all that ever will be are one. Here I feel one with everything - I am so grateful Creator shares this with me, for I am no one of importance -- only one who loves and tries to respect all things.
Mitakuye Oyasin Onsimalaye
written late winter 2002
ShyHawk(FM)
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