Two Rivers, One Ocean

Good Mornin'

And, what a mornin'! Fresh and cool, blue sky and sunshine. Seems ta me, the gift of a mornin' like this, is an invitation not to go anywhere with it, but just to soak it in.

And, I suppose, there's a confluence here; two rivers, each comin' from their own sources, makin' one larger. Yesterday, my run to the tradin' post, sometimes drivin', takin' in the landscape and the different ranches along the way, some belongin' to white folks, some spanish, some native, I'm apt to ask myself what I'm doin' and where I'm goin'. I am comin' up on the big "6-OH", I am camped on someone else's land, I have a large family, all be it, four leggers, none of whom have a job and, aside from a few mules I still trim and the five dollars a day I get feedin' cows, neither do I.

Last night I got to watch a video clip from a documentary about Wounded Knee, the 1890 encounter 'tween U.S. Soldiers and a band of Sioux, tryin' to make it to Pine Ridge, from the Cheyenne River Reservation. I couldn't help think how this tragedy reflected some part of our evolution as human beings; yours and mine.

Afterall, this was the "twain meetin'". One kind of culture that developed and spread west, through Europe and one that developed a different way and came east, through Asia and over the straits, down through Alaska, best I understand; seems to me on one hand, those with little but a rich inner life and those who had mastered the "more", but maybe less aware of the sacred. And, however accurate, that portrayal, or my understandin', there might be somethin' for me to consider as, I suppose, this war is not entirely over, and still plays out within' each one of us; me, too.

How do I live this life?

It's not so easy anymore, pick sides. Some of those ranches I drove past yesterday, I called 'em spanish, white and native, but I guarrantee ya there's white folks married to native, spanish to white and every other combination you can imagine. And, I've met full blood native folks, so "white", it'd scare ya to death, and white folks, so native, ya have ta wonder how that works.

And, I'd have ta say, I can see both in me.

Anyway, point bein', I suppose, for myself, that I just have to walk away from the fight. Fact, come ta think of it, there was one little kid, did just that; his gramma and him we're tryin' and she got shot. She told him, "just keep walkin'" and as it turned out, he was the only survivor, lived ta pass on the story, from that side.

I understand, there's a place for plannin' and all; I also understand there's somethin' sacred, I musn't, can't anymore, forget. And, so, I suppose, I favor the sacred, like a spring mornin'; one that's so perfect, ya just have ta leave it alone, listen with all you are, hopin' it makes you, takes you, a little more, into itself. And, you, me, I, can live this life with trust, that it will work out, if I don't plan to much, or become intolerant of any plannin', but dare to live it from the gift of beautiful; the place no war was ever faught.

It's temptin' take sides; brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, aunts and uncles, lost in these wars; unspeakable injustice. But then there's Creator; and I can't help feel he's always askin', "Let go. I know, I know, but, there's a good, so good, that none of our mistakes and crimes, can or will, remain and so, we must keep walking".

That's a tall order, but I don't figure Creator made a human, out knowin' how tall they were.

Have a great day!

Best, Always

P.S. Let the burros out, see if they'd head for the hills, or if they bonded with the barnyard and us that live around it. So far, so good; they wandered down to the bottom, me watchin' them, them watchin' me. They found the fence and the gate, notice Hutty, keepin' her distance and stayin' behind me, then started ta browse. I came in finished the blog, went back out and there they were nappin' under the pin~on, just outside their pen! Next step, see if I can get 'em in this evenin'.

P.S. Phase, one and a half! I left their gate open just enough where they could go back in, but a horse might not and walked in and out, a few times myself, where they could get the point, maybe. Anyway, just went by again and they had wandered in, get a bite a hay. Just reminds me, my old friend Ray; "it's all about freedom. A critter feels free, they're like ta follow ya anywhere."