I have been given the gift of thought, therefore I think, As I think, I create ways to make life more comfortable for myself. I have learned to expect to eat, sleep, and have whatever happiness I desire. I am able to gain knowledge through education. I then use that knowledge to create more ways to make life easier on myself and do this sometimes with no regard to other two-legged, four legged, winged people and the creepy-crawlers. I consider myself the smartest living being. I pillage Mother and use her resources to destroy her and others. I pollute her air, soil, and her water.

I humble myself to you now, Great Spirit, as I know this knowledge has made me stupid and ignorant in my ways. This knowledge actually makes me the dumbest creature as I have chosen to neglect Mother, forget about Spirit and forsake my grandfathers. I use this knowledge to learn to distrust, dislike and judge others that are different from me. I show no concern for other creatures as I expand my world of comforts.

The knowledge of these facts, Great Spirit, burdens me and I ask for your help. Help me to keep on the sacred path and to remember what I have done in the past. I ask for your help to use what I have learned so I no longer shame myself nor harm others. I am small and weak and ask for forgiveness. Please, Great Spirit, as I am only a human.

© 2001-03 Rick Otterbein All rights reserved. (Previously published under my earth name, One Who Waits)

"The Initiation"

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your hearts longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring with your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story your telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray you own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even if it's not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the moon, YES!

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, for the children. It doesn't interest me how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments…

~Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Indian Elder

One evening, an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that was going on inside him.

He said, "My son, it is between 2 wolves. One is evil: Anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.

The other is good: Joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith".

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one I feed."

(I do not know the author. It was passed to me from a very dear friend.)

You might already know this, but it might be worth refreshing our memory. It was passed on to me from a very dear friend. Maybe you, like me, have felt the chills while listening to "Taps" but have never seen all the words to the song. I didn't even know there was more than one verse. I also never knew the story behind the song and I didn't know if you had either so I thought I'd pass it along.

TAPS

We have all heard the haunting song, "Taps." It's the song that gives us that lump in our throats and usually creates tears in our eyes. But, do you know the story behind the song? If not, I think you will be pleased to find out about it's humble beginnings.

Reportedly, it all began in 1862 during the Civil War, when Union Army Captain Robert Ellicombe was with his men near Harrison's Landing in Virginia. The Confederate Army was on the other side of the narrow strip of land. During the night, Captain Ellicombe heard the moans of a soldier who lay severely wounded on the field. Not knowing if it was a Union or Confederate soldier, the Captain decided to risk his life and bring the stricken man back for medical attention.

Crawling on his stomach through the gunfire, the Captain reached the stricken soldier and began pulling him toward his encampment. When the Captain finally reached his own lines, he discovered it was actually a Confederate soldier, but the soldier was dead. The Captain lit a lantern, suddenly caught his breath and went numb with shock. In the dim light, he saw the face of the soldier. It was his own son. The boy had been studying music in the South when the war broke out. Without telling his father, the boy enlisted in the Confederate Army.

The following morning, heartbroken, the father asked permission of his superiors to give his son a full military burial despite his enemy status. His request was only partially granted. The Captain had asked if he could have a group of Army band members play a funeral dirge for his son at the funeral. The request was turned down since the soldier was a Confederate. But, out of respect for the father, they allowed him one musician. The Captain chose a bugler. He asked the bugler to play a series of musical notes he had found on a piece of paper in the pocket of the dead youth's uniform. This wish was granted.  The haunting melody we now know as "Taps," used at military funerals, was born.

Day is done
Gone the sun
From the Lakes
From the hills
From the sky.
All is well,
Safely rest.
God is nigh.

Fading light
Dims the sight
And a star
Gems the sky,
Gleaming bright
From afar,
Drawing nigh,
Falls the night

Thanks and praise,
For our days,
Neath the sun,
Neath the stars,
Neath the sky,
As we go,
This we know,
God is nigh.

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