I consider myself a native traditional Seneca Elder who stands within the circle of life, guided by the laws of the Creator and tied to the Earth like a child to the mother through the umbilical cord—never losing that connection.
.. People’mselves aren’t holy. But what they do can be holy.  Living a holy life, that’s what life’s for. Helping others, fighting injustice, standing up for the People, saving our Mother the Earth—those are holy things to do.
But always be sure to remember, it ain’t you yourself who’s holy.  People are just people.  If God’d wanted folks to be holy, he’d have given’m wings and set’m up on a cloud somewhere playin’ a big gold harp.
Sounds pretty boring to me.  Me, I’d rather just be a human being.  I’m thankful that’s all I am or need to be.
Bein’ human, that’s a tough enough job for me. (more…)

“WELCOME TO MY UMBRELLA TREE,” says Hawk Elder Edna Gordon, seating herself opposite me at her well-weathered backyard picnic-table, gesturing with a wide sweep of her hand at the rich tapestry of overhanging branches arching all the way to the ground around us, creating a kind of natural gazebo.

She nods at the tree as at a cherished old friend, and nods at me, her visitor.

“This old tree’s the whole of Creation, you know, if you got eyes to see…,”  she says, and her throaty voice trails away thoughtfully.

I look upward into the drooping canopy of heavily leafed branches all but encasing us.

“Like a house of leaves,” I say.

“More’n that,” she says, “…the whole Creation’s right here in this tree, if you can see it…  You’re sittin’ right inside o’ Creation itself!  Don’t you see it?  Can’t you feel it?”

I put the palm of my hand on the rough bark of the trunk.

“I …I can feel it, I think,” I say.

“Your hand on the tree, that’s Life on Life,” Edna says. “This Umbrella tree here’s at the center of the Universe!  And so are we!” (more…)