Thanksgiving is a tough time for me. I have to honor my mother’s side with the traditional feast, yet I have to honor my father’s Blackfeet heritage as well. I have come to a compromise, which I hope helps others in my situation. Yes, we have turkey and the fixings. We taught the white settlers how to cultivate this land. But because of the way we were treated by euro settlers, I have a story circle with my family, telling them of the hardships and the traditional stories of the Piegan Blackfoot. Instead of rolls, we have frybread. Cornpone is served,as well as a few other traditional #Native dishes. We honor Squanto and his dreams of peace with the settlers. We set out reminders of our NDN heritage, while playing drum music from Eagle Rib and Olivia Tailfeathers. After we eat, I tell my children of our history, and tell them of our spirit animals. We wear traditional regalia as a reminder to everyone of the intended peace of this first feast. So yes, being white and NDN is a MAJOR balancing act during this holiday, and I want my children and future generations to remember our past, our stories, and our hardships. But they also need to know the history of our Scottish heritage as well. Afterwards, we give an offering of tobacco to send our prayers to the creator. I call this a compromise, as I am proud of both sides of my heritage, and wish for my children to be as well. I hope this helps everyone who faces the same quandry. Honor where you come from, for if it weren’t for these sacrifices, none of us would be here. Give offerings of corn and grain for the next harvest, and give thanks for life. I love you all, and know that some #Natives have issues with this holiday for GOOD reason. But never forget how we started with trying to make peace. Yes, we were turned on once settlers mastered cultivation and hunting things they didn’t see in their wn native lands. But we prevailed. Some maintained full blood, or at least half. Some of us were’s so lucky with the generation dilutions. But through all, we stand #NativeStrong Never forget our ancestors. That said, don’t be bitter with this day, but use it to honor our tribes. ❤


Evolution or Devolution? THAT is the question!

For the last few thousand years, the question has been there.  We have been striving to find the answer, and have been so close SO many times!  Based on the theory I’m about to propose, I have to wonder if our Paleontologists and Anthropologists are just sitting around with one hand up their butt, and the other holding a PB&J! (No offense to any of you personally, but I have to get the point across in a BIG way).

Let me start by saying that I think you’re looking in entirely the WRONG end of the evolution spectrum for our so-called “missing link.”  Think about this…How many fossils of ancient apes have you found compared to fossils of ancient hominins?  Why do you think that is?  NOT because we evolved from apes, but because apes DEVOLVED from US.  The earliest humans had adaptations that allowed them to live between tree and ground, allowing them to be able to hunt and survive (and escape from being EATEN, of course!).  At SOME point . . . most of these early people decided to leave the trees altogether, to look for a better and more efficient way to live.  The ones who didn’t, could have EASILY stayed in the trees, only going to the ground when absolutely necessary.  Over many generations, physical adaptations began to take hold.  The ground people lost the opposable toes, their legs lengthened, and they used their hands more for hunting and making tools.  By this means, the brain would have also become larger to allow for thinking and communicating better.  The tree people who stayed behind, would have grown longer forearms, fingers, and opposable toes, so they could more easily swing from branch to branch.  Without the need for thinking about making tools and developing better ways to stay warm, they wound have kept their primative grunts and sounds, and would need more body hair than their ground walking (now bipedal) counterparts (who inevitably ended up losing body hair over time, having no real need of it as they made fire and blankets). 

H.G. Wells MAY have been thinking of this when he wrote “The Time Machine.”  The man in the story uses his machine to go FAR into the future.  There, you find the Eloi (who lived above ground), and the Morlocks (who were more primative and lived in the earth).  This would be a great example of devolution, since we know how humans live in OUR time.  I believe this is what happened millions of years ago. 

Your “missing link” ISN’T a question of “how did apes evolve into humans,” but a question of “WHEN did hominins split and devolve into apes.” I’ve been researching on the internet and through science articles, and while people have come CLOSE  to asking this very question, they were never QUITE there. Why is that? 

I shall share something with you. It’s a couple of responses to a nature article that I found online:

“012-03-29 12:30 PM

Report this comment | #40701

 EdwardSchaefer said:
Can we kindly get away from calling every hominin we find an “ancestor”?! This being obviously was not an ancestor, as it lived at a time when the obviously much more closely related Australopithecines were already around and with feet that were much more modern. Fossils are only snapshots of a given place and time, and in the range of 3+ million years ago the hominin fossil record is so sparse that only the most general of statement can be made. We need to realize that we are never seeing the first or the last of anything, nor are we seeing actual ancestors except by luck and often without enough intermediate examples to be sure of it. Instead what we have is the first or last known examples, or the most closely related species knownin the relevant time frame.I do not want to be too down on this find however. It is significant that the Ardipithecines seem to have survived much longer than previously believed. Yet this makes sense to me. It takes time for a new morphology to refine itself to the point that it is able to drive out a competing morphology, with the other morphology being improved on at the same time. Then again, the Ardipithecine morphology was obviously on the way out, given that this is the only example from less than 4 Mya that we have.”

The second response was this:

“2012-06-05 08:46 AM

Joshua Zambrano said:
Seems like the evidence for early human bipedality has suddenly gotten very plentiful. In 2001-2003 Sahelanthropus tchadensis1 and Orrorin tugenensis2 got discovered showing evidence of complexity and early bipedality. In 2009, the New York Times reported Homo erectus footprints showed a modern foot3, and Ardi was discovered giving decisive evidence of bipedality.4 In 2011 it was reported that Lucy walked upright after all5, and that the newly discovered A. sediba also walked upright.6And now this.Might I suggest something controversial? Since we’ve only found a grand total of one chimp fossil7 (and that in 2005), perhaps some of these offshoots are in reality just ancient apes – because otherwise, one is hard pressed to explain where the apes were at the time. And given Ardi, S. tchadensis, and O. tugenensis, there’s really no excuse for saying ape-human transitions were around at later dates given how similar those three, ancient hominins were to modern humans.”



(The above was a list of resources the second responder shared to support his thoughts)

If you would like to read the article, I am providing you with the source website:

Ok, so I went into “mad scientist” mode for a moment, but hey, I hope I was able to at least PARTIALLY enlighten you! 🙂

“I Am Not A Vampire, You Douchebag!”

One day, as I was driving into my carport, I had an interesting thing happen to me!  It was the most bizarre, yet amazing thing you could ever think to hear about, and so unbelievable that it would bring tears of never ending laughter to your physique had you gone through it yourself!  Especially if you were on the receiving end of this astonishing anecdote. But I will get to how I ended up in that driveway shortly. First thing’s first . . . what lead up to that moment.

There are days when I really have to wonder what blows through people’s psyche when it comes to anything remotely supernatural and the hatred of a quiet neighbor. It all began at the end of last year, when we had an unseasonal warm front move in, and the temperature soared.  My dog was in the front yard, doing whatever doggie things, and thinking whatever doggie thoughts that dogs think when they are in their own domain. I was exiting my doorway with leash in hand to bring him in from the heat, when all of the sudden who rolls up?  Non other than our friendly neighorhood Animal Control guy! 

“Howdy,” he says to me as he exits his official white doggie-prison Paddy Wagon.  “What can I do for you?”  I replied to him, as I arched an eyebrow quizzically at him, swinging the leash in my hand.  He walked over to my fence, and looked in at my dog, who greeted the stranger with a goofy doggie grin.  The animal dude turned his head to me, and smiled politely.  “Nice dog,” he said as he tapped a gentle pat to my pooch’s head.  “We got an anonymous call that, well, your dog doesn’t have any shelter, shade, food, or water,” he scratched his head in confusion as he surveyed the yard, “but clearly, whoever called this in wasn’t paying attention.”  Both eyebrows shot a direct blow to my hairline as what he told me sunk in!  “Well yeeeaaaahhh, they weren’t paying attention,” I pointed to the doghouse in the yard, “He even has air conditioning!  I was just taking him in for the day because it’s too warm even for outside A/C.” 

The nice Pooch Patrol guy called into his office, murmuring a few words into his broadband radio, then he turned to me as I was opening the gate to get my beloved pup.  “I’m sorry to bother you ma’am.  I just called in and let the dispatch know that this was a false call, and nothing is out of place.  Have a nice day.”  With a nod, he climbed into his rig, and drove off into the early afternoon ever-after.  I shook my head, and took my furball into the house, relaying the odd occurance to my husband.  “It was probably just a mistake,” he said as he hugged me tightly.  “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”  I nodded, “You’re right, but I do want to get to the bottom of this,” I sighed.  “There are still people here who think I’m out to curse them and put them on a permanant fly diet in their new lilly pad condo!”  My husband just so happened to be taking a drink of water at the moment I made that statement.  Needless to say, he nearly drowned himself laughing.

Yep.  There are people who think I will turn them into a toad!  Did I forget to mention that I am Wiccan?  I was almost evicted a few years ago for flying over the complex on a broomstick!  I just hope someone, somewhere, managed to take a picture or catch me on a survellance video!  I, for one, would like to see that!

And, here we are, in the beginning of August.  Cut to . . . eleven days ago. 

It had been hot, and I mean HOT, for the past few weeks.  Temperatures easily soaring to brimstone melting, hell on earth status!  Needless to say, an outdoor air conditioner would probably just blow up had I been trying to use it unless it was necessary.  So I had been bringing my silly big hulk of a canine into the house during the day, every day.  I just so happened to be taking him for a whiz walk, when who pulls up?  The Pooch Patrol . . . again.  The animal dude gets out of his wagon . . . again.  He looks at myself and my dog . . . again.  “Uh. Yeah.” He stammered a few words before finally getting to the meat of the visit. What do you know?  The complaint was the same as the LAST visit!  Verbatim.  Know what else?  The caller remained anonymous . . . again!  “I apologize for bothering you with this encore presentation.  I’m going to call this into dispatch as a false alarm . . . again.”  Although frustrated, I felt for him and having to come out on this call once more.  “No problem. Any idea who it was this time?”  I inquired, knowing that if a name was left, he would legally be required to give it to me for my records.  “I’m sorry, but no.  They didn’t leave their name.  Have a good day.”  As he drove off this time, my mind began to crawl with possibilities regarding the identity of this unknown caller.

After the first call, I was fairly certain I knew which neighbor it was.  When I confronted her about it, she confessed to me that yes, she was the one who called.  I told her all she had to do when she’s wondering about my dog, is come ask me.  She promised that if she ever had more concerns, she would knock on the door and ask me in person, rather than adding to my pup’s rap sheet in the future.  So as you can imagine, when this second visit came, I was extremely puzzled.  I assumed this had to have come from the same person, due to the carbon copy dialogue of the complaints.  But why would she have called without leaving a name this time, knowing I would recognize the grievance?  That’s what was baffling me that most.  It just didn’t fit!

This brings me to my carport, and the bizzare happenings afterwards! 

I had left for work a few hours earlier.  I was happy that I was only working a three hour day, and was whistling to myself when I brought my dog in before leaving.  My husband kissed me as I left the house, and off I went.  I had a fun day working with kids, so naturally when I was driving home, I was in a wonderful mood.  However, just as I was pulling into the carport, the familiar white Animal Control wagon pulled up to the curb behind my car.  I was mystified by his presence this time, knowing my pup hadn’t even been outside, with the exception of course, of having to pee on his favorite tree. 

As I was exiting my vehicle, the Pooch Patrolman must have seen the rainbow of emotions and thoughts flashing across my face.  Not knowing what to expect from me, he approached slowly and nodded.  “Hello ma’am,”  he said quietly.  “Yeah, hi.” I replied swiftly.  “What’s the problem officer?”  The animal dude gave a small smile.  “You’ll never guess, not in a million years,” he joked.  “Let me guess,” I sighed, “The dog has no food or water, no shade or shelter, and it’s hot out.  Am I close?”  The animal guy chuckled, “I hate to say it, but yes.”  I laughed as well.  “You see, this time I know someone is messing with me, because the dog hasn’t even been outside today!”  I shook my head in disbelief, small giggles escaping my lips.  “That’s exactly what I am reporting to dispatch, and that will put you on a non-report list from here on out.  Should take care of your human pest problem, since the ONLY way we’ll come out is if a police officer calls and sends us.”  He nodded to me.  “Have a nice day!”  He climbed into the white wagon, still amused at this final call.  “Thank the Gods I don’t have to deal with that anymore,” I said to myself. 

Naturally, I spoke too soon.  Just as I was turning to walk back through the carport to get to my door, our complex security guard, Jim,  pulled up.  Luckily, he is a good friend of mine.  “Hey!  What’s going on over here?  I just saw the Animal Control leaving.  Everything OK?”  He asked me.  “Well, I think so.  At least now it is.”  I relayed the entire story to him, as he sat on the hood of his car smoking a Marlboro, hanging onto my every word.  As I finished, it occurred to me that this was an odd time for him to be dropping by for a chat, since he wasn’t on duty yet.  “Well,” he blew out a smokey cloud, “I’m afraid your problems haven’t ended there.  It’s why I came by, actually.”  I cocked my head at him and asked in an unsure tone, “Whaaaat’s wrong?” 

If you thought the Animal Control calls and the attempted eviction was weird . . WOW . . get a load of this!  As I was listening to the complaint that came into the complex office, and that they were taking this seriously enough to have our security guy check up on it before they took any action, I was completely, unequivocally, dumbfounded!  Yes, indeed, this takes the cake.  My jaw was scraping the sidewalk as I was listening to how someone accused me of keeping my children malnourished because I am really a vampire, and was secretly drinking my kid’s blood!  “WHAT?!?!”  I screamed out in a mixture of horror, surprise, and admittedly some amusement.  When one bears witness to the incarnate manifestation of the absurd, one’s eyeballs tend to eject from their sockets, as I’m sure mine did at that moment.  My security friend was half-way doubled over laughing, as I was trying to search for something to say that could even come close to what my mind was trying to wrap around.  I looked at him dubiously.  “OK, laugh it up, chuckles.  Really funny!  I mean, I could see them saying I was conjuring things, but what would give them the slightest idea that I might be a vampire?  It’s got to be a joke.”  Wiping a tear from his eye from laughter, he let me know that it was in fact true.

“Think about it,” he told me.  “You are rarely seen during daylight hours, your daughters are slight little things, you seem to never get sick . . . ”  The corner of his mustached lips quirked.  “Need I go on?  You know how these people are here.  They’re bound in superstitions, and have nothing better to do than let their imaginations run away with them.”  I huffed, thanked Jim for the information, and stomped into the house.  My hubby raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me.  “What was that all about?”  I was wringing my hands and clenching my fists, barely containing my anger at the situation.  A witch, yes.  But a bloodsucking vampire who apparently feeds off of her kids like they were nothing more than pixie stix with feet?  Now THAT was another matter altogether.  “Goddess help me, honey.  If I ever get a good spell to toss on the people in this complex, I’ll turn the whole lot of ’em into earthworms!”  I turned on my heel and stormed back out to the yard.

I sat on my porch steps, and lit a Misty Light 120.  Taking a deep pull of the soothing nicotine to calm my nerves, I started to question the sanity of everyone around me.  Food.  Really??  Huh.  I blew out a few smoke rings, and noticed my Godson strolling up the sidewalk.  “Hey Kris!” he hollered to me, waving.  “Hey Shawn,”  I returned the greeting.  He stopped quickly at my tone, noting that something was wrong by the dismissive manner in which I waved.  “Uhh, ‘sup?”  He tilted his head.  I told him about the Pooch Patrol visits, and that now I am apparently a child-sucking night creature with her own food farm!  “Wanna go for a walk with me?”  He shrugged, “Sure, let’s go!”  He fell into step beside me, with the hip-hop swagger that he was famous for.  We talked for a while, until we reached the end of the street, and began to turn onto the next.  It was, in fact, at this point that I completely lost control of my anger. 

I began to run through the streets of the complex, waving my arms like an escaped lunatic.  I am sure some of the neighbors were thinking I was going to have to be institutionalized by the end of the night.  Then I began to yell.  Loudly.

“I AM NOT A VAMPIRE, YOU DOUCHEBAG!!!!!”   Shawn quite literally fell over, laughing until he was almost puking, and my husband having heard the yelling, ran out of the house and down the street to see what the ruckus was.  “I AM NOT A VAMPIRE, YOU DOUCHEBAG!!!”  I yelled again, drawing baffled neighbors out to their front porches.  By this time, I had drawn a crowd to the streets as I kept running, yelling, waving, and just giving into the idiotic insanity of the surrounding people.  Some of the neighbors were dying of laughter, some actually looked terrified of me as they witnessed the scene unfolding around them!  “I AM NOT A VAMPIRE, YOU DOUCHEBAG!!!” 

Then I stopped.  I stood there, surrounded by friends and neighbors who were convinced by now that I had gone completely mad.  I looked at them, and they looked at me.  Then the person who started this madness in the first place, quietly started to slink away from the back of the crowd.  I watched her go, and my husband whispered in my ear, “What was that all about?”  I smiled with my small victory, and turned to kiss him.  “I think I just made my point.  Let’s go home.”  He put his arm around my shoulders, and that’s just what we did.  We went home.


Extraterrestrial Cults and their Suicides

As I sit here and watch a show on the History Channel called “Ancient Aliens,” I really have to wonder what has happened to humankind.  People create cults through elaborate means of convincing people to follow them, thus, brainwashing them into the same frame of thinking, turning them into an unwitting bunch of lemmings.  What I effectively see, is that there is one suicidal person that, for whatever reason, doesn’t feel that life is worth living.  He concocts a story to manipulate the masses into thinking the same way. What is that saying? If you’re going to take yourself out, take as many people with you as possible, also known as the “lemming factor.”  That is exactly what these cult leaders have figured out. Take out their physical body, and reconnect with the beings that put us here!

Here is a question: if ETs put us on this planet, checked up on us to evaluate our progress and give us the means to move forward with technology in order to survive, and kept coming back to check on our progress and whisper in our ear for further communication and  technological advancement, enhancing our intellegence, etc.  Then having us commit suicide to reconnect with them would be completely pointless and a slap in the face to those who put us here! It would be an insult to those who put us here and nurtured us for millennia!  It’s akin to having a nurturing mother who taught you everything, gave you love, and took care of you, and then you killed yourself because you wanted to be back with her in spirit!  It would hurt her tremendously!  In fact, she might be sad, depressed, feel betrayed, and never recover!  So would it be safe to say that one day, the beings who put us here and took care of us for millions of years just MIGHT come back and wipe out this planet of ingrates?  Afterall, people have been proving that they do not appreciate, and in fact, throw it in our creator’s faces daily that they do not care about this precious gift that has been given to us! We kill ourselves and each other in the name on our creators, which was NOT the intent of our being put here! We were givien this beautiful gift of life as just that . . . a GIFT! Something that should be cherished. Yet we do not. WHY?  Who knows, our creators most likely know who are appreciative of what we have, who aren’t greedy, and who are full of love, and will be taken with them when it’s each individual’s time.  After they have learned lessons, and enjoyed life. The rest? Well, the jaded, misinformed, and defective, will just have to stay here and suffer the fate that the creators have decided to bestow upon them, no doubt by just hurling a firey comet at them!  To our dear “wonderful” Christian “Doomsdayers,” this is not . . . I repeat NOT . . . your precious Rapture! These are pissed off Alien Beings who were betrayed by their creations!  Hopping onto a spacecraft to meet up with said firey comet is completely optional!  Our creators intended for us to be peaceful. Even loving us to the point that religions were born of their interventions, giving us bits of technology meant for our advancement as a race, and not as a means to figure out creative and violent ways to kill each other off. When they do come back, WE will be the hostile race of warlike creatures, not them.  I hope that clarifies some things. I, myself, am not — I repeat NOT . . . Christian. However, I do believe in the 10 commandments, as we have something similar in our religion. For you die hard Christians, I would suggest you read through them again. And FOLLOW them. Otherwise, this world WILL be doomed. —– Just Sayin’

Spirit Of The Wolf Moon


(The Story of Spirit Wolf)



Chapter One


            I was born in the year of eighteen hundred and sixty.  I have lived a much longer life than my people would expect, and during that time I have seen much war, famine, and slavery.  Yet, I have stayed true to my heritage, and have found life on the reservation to be more peaceful than living in the outside world.  For here, I am protected, and I have my sanctuary away from prying eyes, which is something I will explain as my story progresses.  Sure, we are poor, but we are proud and make the most of what we have.  More precisely, we make the most of what the government has allowed us to have.

            There was a time in my teenage years that I could run freely through the wild woods and prairies.  To this day, I can still remember the feel of the wind caressing my long black hair as I released it from the leather thongs that held my braids in place.  Were it not for my hair, high cheekbones, and the color of my skin, my tribe would have surely thought that my mother had affairs with the white faced men that travelled through our land from time to time.  My golden eyes were a stark contrast to my onyx black hair and olive skin, making me an exotic oddity to my people.

            When our tribe went through our various periods of hunger, our hunters would bring home rabbits, birds, and even bats to feed our people.  Every three or four months, the large buffalo herds would stampede through our country, which was cause for much celebration.  That was when our people would have our great feasts, and give thanks to the Great Spirit, Wakan Tanka, that food was plentiful.  The women would set to work tanning hides, making clothing and shelter, and dry pemmican for the months when the buffalo were not there.  Over time though, the herds came less frequently when the white armies would kill them off in an effort to starve us into submission.  They wanted us to rely on them for our well-being and survival, but our spirit would remain unbroken for many years to come.  We would simply pack our village and follow the buffalo herds.

            I remember riding to the flowing river with my father one day, when we came across a slaughtered herd of buffalo.  The bloody carcasses were left to rot in the baking sun, as though the white army was taunting us.  The stench was enough to roll even the strongest of stomachs, reeking of decay.  We relied on these herds for our survival, not only for food, but for clothing, blankets, and tools and even shelter.  We ate the meat and used the hides to cover our bodies and feet.  For shelter, the thick fur coats provided us with blankets to keep us safe from the harsh winter elements during sleep and travel. The hides would insulate our tipis. The bones, we made into tools which were both functional and mundane.  The worst part about the hunt was the horrid smell of tanning the hides so they would last.  The brains of these large creatures were used during the curing process, usually done after scraping the meat and fat from the flesh with tools made of flank bone.  The brains were then used to scrub the hides until all of the grey matter had been absorbed, we then hung the hides out to dry.  When the hides were dried and stiff, we worked them with our hands to make them soft, kneading them into workable buckskin.  It was the work of the women, while the men hunted and protected, but it was honest proud work to make Wakan Tanka smile to see us utilize these creatures in their entirety.  It was beautiful to see the finished products consisting of blankets, and beautifully sewn and decorated dresses, tunics, and leggings.  The women of our tribe were especially skilled in the art of making and sewing on beautifully colored beads, sometimes adding small cowry shells which we often traded for.  The work was long and tedious, but breathtaking.

            I still recall the tears that ran in wet rivers down my cheeks at the sight of the tatanka (buffalo) graveyard, and to this day, the smell still clings to my nostrils with the memory.  My father looked beaten, but Lakota men did not cry, as it was a sign of weakness, and my father was far from weak.  To the contrary, he was a proud man who took life as Wakan Tanka saw fit.  However, at 13 winters, I wasn’t thinking about the food that was lost since I felt I was ready to hunt on my own soon.  I could feel it with each Hanhepi-wi as it rose full each month.  The moon was speaking to me, and I could feel its primal call.  I knew not everyone felt it the way I did, and that was something I could not understand, but would find out within the next year.  My foremost thought was that I wasn’t going to get the dress, moccasins and tashina pte (buffalo robe) that my mother was to make for me as I travelled into womanhood.  It was to be fashioned in a style that signified to the available men that they could start courting me as a future wife.  I would be happy with any man I could connect with, but my parents, of course, hoped for the attentions of a warrior.

            It was extremely important to my parents that the men started to notice me, despite my exotic look.  They were determined to present me so that all potential suitors knew I was full blood Lakota, and that no white blood travelled through my veins.  I was pure of blood, and not tainted by our persecutors.  Everyone in our village, and the entire Lakota Nation, knew there was something different and unique about me, but couldn’t quite pinpoint what that something was.  They all called me Shunkahah-Wanagi, which translated to Spirit Wolf, because of my protective nature and golden eyes.  I reminded them of a wolf disguised as a human, and was told that the wolf was my totem – my spirit protector.  They say I came to them in human form, because I was a wolf in a past life, and had to learn the human ways to truly be one with nature.  The Wicasa Wakan (Medicine Man) said this was a path I had to take; a journey as human and wolf as one, because I had a great goal that could not be accomplished for our people in just one form.  The Elder of our tribe, Grey Sky, had named me when I was born, due to my interesting nature even as an infant.  This was a great honor and my only saving grace as I was growing up.  When the other kids would try to accuse me of being a half-breed, Grey Sky would step in and tell them why I looked the way I did.  I am still not sure, even over a century later, but I suspect he may have known my true nature even before I did.  Knowing how wise he was, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit.

            During the time of the fallen buffalo, we often had to eat wild dogs for our survival.  I couldn’t, nor wouldn’t eat on those nights.  I fasted because I had an inexplicable connection with the canine world, feeling like it would be cannibalistic, as though I was eating my own people.  Nobody could grasp the concept of my fasting on those nights, since food was so scarce, and was passing up the opportunity to eat the nutritious meat when placed in front of me after weeks of dieting on rabbits and fruit bats, and indeed they thought it amazingly odd behavior.  I would catch and roast grasshoppers over the communal fire, even though I found it to be extremely nauseating.  I once suggested slaughtering and feasting on horse, and was rebuffed viciously, since the ponies were great commodities for travel and for our warriors.

            As for the dogs, I also reasoned that our warriors needed the meat more than I did, since they relied on their strength, and never once did I protest nor begrudge them of that necessity.  I always had to seclude myself in a form of mourning, however, when those feasts were held.  It was as if I were in mourning over a fallen warrior who went with Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit, in battle.

            When I was 15, a warrior approached me with my parents in tow, and asked me why it was that I would get so excited over the tatanka (buffalo), yet became so disgusted over the thought of consuming dog.  “It is for our survival,” he explained as my parents listened to the exchange. “When we eat these that were given to us, we take on their strength.”  I replied with a simple retort, “Would you think it acceptable if I ate one of your fellow warriors, who are protective and loyal?  Would I then gain your strength and be able to provide for our tribe?”  He walked away with a bewildered look and shook his head, while my mother and father looked completely and totally shocked and dumbfounded.  They followed the warrior, but not before I caught him saying to them, “I don’t see how she’ll ever find a husband with these ideas of hers.  How can he provide for her if she refuses to eat what he brings to her?”  After that, they were out of earshot, but not before it dawned on me that I shouldn’t have been able to hear them at all!  My hearing had become so keen in the past year, that it was almost hard for me to believe.  It was all I could do to keep from chasing them down in a tantrum.  Really!  The nerve of all them!  Why couldn’t they just support my convictions?

            My father returned to me after a few minutes and said, “Honestly Spirit Wolf, How can you make such a comparison?  A wife is expected to prepare and eat whatever her husband hunts!  That’s how our people survive.  Especially in these rough times, we take what Wakan Tanka gives to us.”  The twinkle in his eye did not escape me, however, before he turned back to catch up to my mother, when I heard him say to her, “If she doesn’t like dog, we shouldn’t force it on her, White Petal.  Let her future husband deal with her.”  As I mentioned before, my father was a proud man, but I could tell he had admonished me solely to humor my mother, because as they were walking away, I caught him looking over his shoulder at me and offering a reassuring wink of his eye.  I could see the humor in his face, and I breathed a small sigh of relief.  No one ever brought the subject up again, and for that I was truly thankful.

            Occasionally, I would catch a curious glance my way, but learned to ignore them and go on with my daily routines.  As the full moon grew closer, I was starting to notice things that were a little unsettling.  My hearing became more acute, my night vision and sense of smell had heightened ten fold, and my speed increased.  I used to race with the others my age, but finally they refused to race because they knew I would win every time.  I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I knew I was changing quickly.  The wolves started to come into our village to play and race with me, and I found that they were rapidly becoming my new friends.  I was less like the human children, and more like the wildlife that I had so long revered.  It seemed to scare many of my tribe, until three days before the full moon when Grey Sky held a circle of the tribe and explained to them, and me, what was going on.  That there was a great battle on the horizon, and I was born to save the Paha Sapa (Black Hills) to keep the land sacred.  Some would call me evil, but I was merely a natural born Skin Walker.  I could see the faces of everyone in my village looking my way, trying to understand the gravity of what Grey Sky was telling them.  I am neither human nor wolf, but both, a gift given to the Lakota Nation by Wakan Tanka.  I was to be protected at all costs, and in return, I would protect them.  I looked at Grey Sky, “Am I a part of Wakan Tanka?” He looked at me in all of his wisdom and replied, “In a way, yes.  You have abilities that very few have.  You are a rare breed, Shunkahah-Wanagi.  Our creator made you this way, in order to protect our way of life.  You are the strongest warrior we will ever have.”

            Being a fairly small girl of 15 winters, this was very hard to digest, especially when I looked at all of the men who have protected our village; our women and children.  How could I possibly be stronger than any of these fine men who were strong and fit?  Then Grey Sky said something that unsettled me greatly.  “This time, when Hanhepi-wi is at her fullest, you will change.  You will become one of those great beasts you have recently befriended.  You will maintain your reasoning, so do not worry.  Your thinking in that form will be as it is now, so you will not accidentally hurt anyone.  Don’t abuse it child, for you have been chosen!”  With this statement, I stood, and on wobbly legs from the shock of it all, I made my way back to my lodge and lay down.  I couldn’t sleep, for it all seemed too surreal for me.  I could hear the cries coming from the circle, however, “He-ay-hee-ee!”  They were calling to the Great Spirit, to thank them for my gift.  I only wish I could have felt the same!

            There were only three nights left until the next full moon, when Hanhepi-wi would shine on me. Three nights before my 16th winter.  I was terrified with the unknown, wondering what this “change” would be like. Would it hurt? Would I really be able to keep myself under control? I had heard about rogue Skin Walkers in the past, and what they had done to humans. I knew I was protected, since I had someone to guide me through this and teach me to be a warrior, which I knew was a rare thing among women. Would this be a gift or a curse? From the sounds of it, my tribe had a great deal of faith in me, and I could not let them down and dishonor them.  I had to start thinking of myself as a secret weapon for my people.  As I thought about all of this, I pulled the buffalo hide over myself to keep warm, and finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep. It was cold out, and the snow had begun to fall. The new winter had sprung upon us, and I knew the moon would be the Wolf Moon, which made my thoughts even more unsettling.

Welcome to my blog page!

As I have been promising, I finally set up a site to where you can come and read some excerpts from the book I am working on! YAY! I know, many of you are saying “well it’s about time!” I welcome critiques and ideas, but please try not to be rude. This is, after all, my first novel. So when you post, please think about this: what would you want people to say about your hard work? I appreciate criticism, as I can learn from this, and make my story even better. But remember, writing is an art. Not an easy one at that. So please be respectful, not just for my sake, but for the sake of other authors you may happen to read blog excerpts from. It takes alot of hard work and concentration, and if you don’t like what you read, it is understandable. I only ask that you try to be tactful, as my goal on here is NOT to open a debate, but a learning experience. There is no need to be mean or hateful. Afterall, it’s merely a book. Remember the golden rule. “Do unto others.” You wouldn’t want people tearing your hard work and efforts to shreds, would you? To answer the question I know must be playing through your minds, yes, we will have discussions, and I will gladly accept advice from you. I love you all for your support in at least reading this blog, and will take everyone’s comments into consideration. So . . . keep your eyes peeled in the next few days, and I will be tweeting my bloglinks as well! Group Hugs to all! Image Just please, bear with me as I learn this new blog site :-)