Tunkasila, omakiya yo,
onsimala yo, anpetu kin le makakijelo.
Wani wachin ye, wicozani wokiya,
heya hoyewayelo.
Pilamaya peta wakan, pilamaya Wanbli Oyate.
Tunkasila, wopila tanka,
aho, mitakuye oiyasin.
Grandfather, help me,
have pity on me, today I walk the Earth.
I want to live, with health and help,
as I send you my prayers.
Thank you sacred fire, thank you Eagle Nation.
Grandfather, I am so very grateful for this existence,
amen, to all my relations.
*******
I’m getting there, piecing it together bit by bit, learning the songs is more help than anything. And opening my heart to prayer, to healing, to the purification of the humbling lodge, my church, and there’s a service tonight, though this will be the first outside of my Rosebud community. At camp, both lodges were run by Rosebud crew, and at Benjamin’s where I picked up a handful of songs, they were all sung the way his Sun Dance chief, Harvey, was given them. Some of these songs are part of the original teachings handed down from the ancestors, others are given to medicine men by Wakan Tanka, or perhaps to a brother on hembleciya, and we all have a death song waiting to be sung as we move along the vibrational path to the spirit world.
Praying is about opening your heart in a humble way, in whatever language you choose, the same probably goes for singing from the heart, but there’s something different about some of these indian songs. It’s like they unlock some kind of coded thing or something. When sung in a group around the drum, each vocal cord vibration multiplying with the next creates a unified energy field, you can feel it. Even without the translation, it puts you in a place of connection, and the rhythmic vocables of songs with no words seem just as powerful, especially in a packed lodge.
So, could these ways to pray really be a part of some ‘original teachings?' Some universal mechanism for tapping into the vibrational make-up of Wakan Tanka? Ridiculous probably, and teachings from who? But it is curious that there are sweat lodges all over the world, and here they span from canada to argentina, completely covering all of our Turtle Island, which is coincidentally the same reptile planet described in hindu and chinese mythology. So someone originally taught all these separated tribes, or they each independently evolved the practice, or maybe they learned it before they were separated, from the original tribe.
*******
Languages and traditions shift with the times and migrations, based on whatever resonates with the land, but what if there are some specific protocols for communicating with creation? Things possibly lost in the patriarchal square version of an originally legit way to worship, especially when they retuned the organ to 440. A handed-down oral tradition of instructions, in a language from the same Earth that birthed the stones we pray with, synchronized to the rounded cycles of the universe, perhaps to remind us of some ancient wisdom that our ancestors knew we would forget. Could the circular lodge somehow unlock the same secrets that the Mayan calendar did?
The lodge is definitely round, like the medicine wheel. Four directions or four doors or four rounds of spiraling energy, collectively projected at the steaming stones, the grandfathers, whose wavelength of sentience is far longer than our own. Their uplifting energy charged in the peta wakan, the sacred fire, who we only walk around in a sunwise direction, with the natural flow of energy emanating from the Earth in this hemisphere. The literal vibration that spirals between Unci Maka and Grandfather Sky, the same vibration that moves through us as it refracts the light of our being.
We pray in a sunwise rotation in the inipi, always crawling around the stones upon exit, then we smoke the chanupa, a single puff of the ceremonial pipe, exhaling our prayers skyward as Tobacco grounds us to the planet, and we always pass to the left. The Wanbli is flying above to relay the message, and somehow even the Bird Nation feels the groove as they build their nests in a sunwise spiral of connection.
You can watch water ride the wave too, as we flush seven billion gallons a day. Swirling sunwise into the depths of the planet, whose physiological makeup is primarily water, the exact ratio as our own material being, quite a cosmic coincidence of planetary parallel. And each cell in your body also reflecting the equation, it seems that the planes of existence above and below us are all fractal copies of the same creation. And all made of water. The liquid crystal clear conduit that even scientists have to admit is the fundamental element of life itself, mni freakin wiconi. It fills each and every cell of each and every living organism, every being of life, every being of light, the Sun’s vibrations flow through the planet that we are a part of, and the photons pour through our bodies of water as they empower us to taste the rainbow.
Water is clear, should be at least (cough, dapl), and you are almost completely made of water. You should be more invisible than an indigenous american teenager feels in modern society. Your existence is merely a prismic experience in this dimension of sensation. You are the white light of the universe, the explosive energy that makes the whole thing go ‘round, and as this lightwave travels through the water filter of your streaming consciousness, through the ultimate electrical conductor of life, it is clouded by the minority of other particles in each cell, the elements of refraction that create the holographic illusion that you are anything other than the universe incarnate.
The light is reflected by the flecks of vibration floating around your watershed, and your skin tone is not the color you are, it’s the color you aren’t. The reflection you see in the mirror is the color (or light frequency) not absorbed by your being, instead turned away (like dark skin at the deli counter) as it is noticed by our refractory furnished sensory perception devices. So the whiter your are, the less universal light is absorbed into your bloodline, and coincidentally the less likely you are to live in a culture intimately connected to our vibrating planet.
This white light of wisdom is propelled through your synapsing brain, it is an organ of complex electrical routing, whose circuitry provides the clouding components of self-awareness. See, you really are a natural born resistor. And that’s your ego talking, the purely physical particles that try to convince your material mind that somehow you’re doing this all on your own, that you’re not a piece of the universal slideshow as it cycles sunwise through the projected path of white light.
And ego’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s actually a pretty essential element of the human experience. It is what allows this cosmic energy of creation to observe such a complex evolution of humanity, from the inside, as if it didn’t already know the particulars of our potential pathways. I’m talking about God, or the universe, or maybe Chuck Norris - or what I call Wakan Tanka, the Great Mystery - and what a mystery it is. Every understanding I come to, only opens up a new realm of exploration, an infinite catacomb of cosmology. And that’s what it’s all about, we are here to be us, to each journey along our own path of discovery, to gain insights into an understanding of the universe as we contribute our findings to the collective unconsciousness of humankind, which is currently evolving back into the white light of God, unless that’s just your ego talking.
The entire universe is in your head, all of everything, our ego keeps us at ten percent capacity, but as we cosmically collect our vibrational harmony, we grow closer and closer to the God that we’ve been the whole time. The entire big shebang was the catalyst for this return to unity, the God particle that exploded into the heavens, a vibrational cloud that evolved into universal proportions, exactly like your inflated ego. It keeps us as unique as each galaxy, every path of billions is a completely new experience. This all inclusive relationship with the stars, coupled with our understanding of the gravitational influences of celestial bodies, on what amounts to be tiny flecks of minerals floating in purely influential water, well, it all makes the universe start to come together a bit.
We are God, as we explore the universe that is inside our head. We each perceive the dance with slightly different detail, which constructs the big picture powwow, and the closer we get to completeness, the less our ego will be able to convince us of our separation from that state. As our ego dissolves, we evolve into beings of pure unfiltered light. Once the mechanism for duality is unable to convince you that you are in charge, you will feel the ultimate power of God flow through you.
And as you are humbled in a hot lodge, your ego melts away as you beg for survival, for humility, and without the weight of your burning body to hold you back, you are able to transcend the barriers that divide heaven and Earth. Of course, this is all some heathenistic ritual of barbaricism, from a people so behind that they don’t even have a word for ‘religion.’ They couldn’t even see the need to separate spirituality from reality, but even our definition of the word seems to outline this same cyclical return to Eden.
‘Religion’ - ‘a bringing back together,’ though it’s a little curious how many wars are fought in the name of reuniting man with God. And a little short-sighted perhaps, of those who credit their jealous God with only a single path of meeting up with him. An infinite universal being who dwells in each of us, across the made-up borders of our colonized maps and calendars, unarguably existing in even the least civilized of us, as missionaries attempt to force it out of the nonbelievers. A God who must standby and witness the beauty of spectacle put forth in the name of praising the Sun and Moon and stars and the Earth herself, an entire globe of tradition filled with the vibrant vibrations of color and art and music and love, and all in the name of living in harmony with the rest of his cosmic creations. Yet the chains of his colonized congregation keep him from hearing these prayers of peace emitted from around the planet, he must instead follow the command of the ten percent, as they fuel the gears of world war.
My God, Wakan Tanka, is far more capable of reconnecting to the human genome. He sees the incredible beauty of a world full of diversity, of a species with so many ways to honor his gift of life, and he connects to all of them on an energetic level as they come to him without ego. As they pray from the heart. If the whole purpose of anything is for God to experience everything, it seems kinda rude to keep him locked away to yourself. A little egotistical, in fact. I still have to work on my humility every single day, it’s tough to realize that you are God and not let it go to your head, but my personal relationship with the Great Spirit makes it inconceivable to put him in a cage for sunday visitation.
I know for a fact that prayers work in my way, as I’ve seen them work in others, and I do have a healthy enough ego to credit myself with the brainpower percentage to acknowledge that I don’t actually know everything in the universe. Yet. So for now, I’ll just pray for everyone, and let God sort them out later.
*******
I guess it’s not quite fair to put all that work onto the universe, at least not if we’re not willing to put a little back into it. And there’s a lot of work to be done. Our home is falling apart because we neglected to care for it, we treated it like a disposable diaper and assumed that we could just buy another when the bank took it away. I’m no economist, but I don’t think there’s enough money on Earth to replace her. And she wasn’t even ours to lose, turns out we borrowed her from our children, so I feel a pretty strong responsibility to care for her before it’s too late. It’s a lot, I know, so much damage has been done already, but as long as I do whatever I can in whatever part of Unci Maka I find myself, I’m generally surprised with what one person can do to counteract the negligence of those who think their footprint is too small to affect the world around them.
Plus, I’m not alone. And I’m not even talking about some mythical band of water protectors out to save the world, there are real life people around the globe that understand the importance of healing our precious planet. And by some miracle of random coincidence, they just so happened to attend the same sacred Black Hills Unity concert that my path of prayer had invited me to. Funny how that seems to works out. Every time.
I’m up early the next day, somewhat, and I pick up a few empty water bottles on my way to the workshop tipis. Even at an event of consciousness, litter still escapes us. That really does suck, it was just a few stray pieces, but how can we expect anyone else to do it better than we can? A strong water protecting grandma reminded me to always collapse every bottle fully, I normally do, at least most of the way, but sometimes it’s too easy to just pick up trash and toss it in the can. But if a bag of bottles is uncompressed, then it’s gonna take up way more space at the landfill, or on the recycling truck, which means more trips carrying bags of air, so more gas burned to do your civic duty of recycling. If you can simply take the time to squish them down into pucks, it creates a much more efficient system of justifying your petroleum-based plastic consumption.
An even better solution, is to not pretend that recycling is some modern marvel that negates whatever toxic sludge went into the Earth’s water to bottle yours. And the recycling process itself, requires tons of power and fossil fuels to burn off poisoned impurities into our oh-so-pure atmosphere. Plus, there’s not even a market for recycled raw materials, as there are already stockyards filled with the refused refuse. How about instead of separating plastic and aluminum, we separate ourselves from the work of fiction that recycling will save the planet, it only provides a false sense of sustainability as it perpetuates the fallacy that we can consume responsibly. How is a giant bag of beer cans gonna do anything to save the world?
*******
Even with that sidetrack to the recycling bin, I still showed up at the tipis just in time, indian time, duh. And today’s lesson: healing sacred sites. A dude from somewhere far away, and by dude I mean a doctor in something or other, had been traveling to sacred sites around the globe. Specifically, the most traumatized locations, often including sites of massacre, as the people most connected to the energy of the land were unwilling to let it be decimated with their dying breath. Turns out that mt rushmore isn’t a natural rock formation, or that it’s the first sacred space of an indigenous peoples to be desecrated, exploited, and deactivated.
The Earth is alive. She is a being of energy. Of light. We all are, remember? She can feel pain, we’re just too zoomed in to notice, it’s like how the cells of our body make up our being, but they are unaware of what we feel. The cells of my liver don’t know why they keep getting poisoned and knocked down, they’re left in the dark as they rebuild the best they can, even though the worsening condition of their host is not looking good. Unless the liver failure is what started the whole cardiac event in the first place.
So now imagine what it must feel like for Unci Maka, when a few hundred, or thousand, or hundred million of her healthy liver cells die a tragic death - she would hurt. There would be a vibrational wound on her surface, and deeper, we wouldn’t feel it unless we were connected to her control center, but it would heavily hinder our ability to function in a good way. And for a trauma like this to happen at a place of such strong spiritual connection, an energy center of our planet, a chakra, well that’s actually the type of thing they invented the word ‘traumatic’ for. Especially when an absurd amount of these damaged places exist around the globe.
What’s so sacred about some hills anyway? What’s the big deal about eminent domaining these places of prayer for the good of the common, I mean, the colonized man? Whose ancestors died and made these sites so special? Well, our local sacred site of the evening happens to fall on the intersection of two ley lines of seismic energy, vibrations that formed the hills, shaped the Earth, created creation. They resemble a heart from the Wanbli’s point of view, and there’s a mystic correlation of Fibonacci spiral found in the geographic location of the many points of interest, including our favorite Bear Butte, which seems to coincidentally be a mathematical doorway to spiritual consciousness. The ‘Red Road’ of Phi can be found in the stars, as it is reflected in the Earthly migration route that the Lakota followed in a sunwise circular fashion around these sacred hills. The spiritual geometry of this place keeps going and going, but I’m ready to get to the real science of it being a literal battery.
It was discovered a while back, to contain a mountainous circuitry of gold deposits. Some dude found that out, right between agreeing to let the indians have their silly ceremonies, and deciding that we were actually gonna take their prayer away after all, don’t worry though, the natives made custard outta that fella. It’s super scientific that gold is an all powerful conductor, ancient tradition backs it up as a link to the spirit world with golden Buddhas and other sacrilegious idols, and even christianity must admit that the vatican holds the world’s largest cache of gold for some reason or another. The gold’s just a piece of the componentry though, it’s accompanied by the continent’s largest stores of uranium, silver, copper, lead, lithium, bentonite, limestone, sandstone and granite, which just so happen to be capable of creating enough power to charge up a mortal coil, as it sparks the initiation of life.
Sounds like plenty of reason to level the praying fields of the sacred set location of the Lakota creation story. There’s a deep cave network, the largest in north america, and it happens to be perfectly placed in the middle of the map. We’ve never even been to the bottom, just like the ocean, and certainly seems vast enough to corroborate the myth of emerging from the depths of Unci Maka. Birthed of the planet and deployed across her surface, and this happened in four directions, red, black, yellow, and white, a circular dispersal of the original peoples. Also a sweet spot to survive a 10,000 year ice age and reemerge as if it were the dawn of time, the threshold of the next age of man, a planet heals as a people reconnects in her heart. Kinda explains why the government is actively trying to destroy it.
*******
A panel of strong Lakota warrior women spoke in the afternoon, each heading up a different angle of the movement to save our mother. I end up seeing most of them again throughout my travels, and always at the forefront of the frontline. I’d bet on a fearless Lakota woman in just about any match-up, though I’m a little short on cash right now.
One woman spoke of her battle at Wind Cave, the current target for vibrational trauma of a sacred site. And just to be clear, I don’t mean some dark crystal powered doomsday device, nope, they are carelessly causing mini-earthquakes as they blast reverberations into the chasm.
‘Seismic testing,’ it’s like trying out a new chemical on a small spot of your carpet, hoping that it’s safe to blast and dig and demolish the entire house, but even just the small trial run is enough to completely ruin the rug. You mean, we’re really shooting our earthquake cannon into a massive unknown cave network at the geographical center of our continent? Geezus.
And why do they care enough about earthquake threats that they’d rather go ahead and vaccinate themselves with a manmade one? Oh, I see, they want to mine the massive energy deposits that we continue to find in this sacred land of connective power. Sorry guys, that’s part of a national forest, it’s kinda off limits for private corporations to export wealth at the detriment of the nation... Just kidding, I really had you going there, of course you can drill buddy, who’s gonna stop us, some cartoon indians and their drums and singing and stuff?
How many frackin mine sites are on sacred indigenous land? Thousands. Just in america. And how many pipelines plowed through indian burial grounds, besides the one I tried to stop? Most. On the surface, the empire is breaking ground to extract her energy in new ways, just so happens to coincide with the ancient ways of energy collection as well. But once you start adding stuff up, it simply seems like yet another angle of attack in the war against our planet. Against us. The battle of good vs evil. Or light vs dark. The latters of which might merely be the temporary absence of the formers. Slowly evolving out of a clouded darkness, reaching a vibrational harmony that enlightens and uplifts, and eventually cycling through the channelers until unity is restored.
*******
But not everyone seems to want ultimate togetherness. The powers that be, be powered by our divided population, and we’re kept at ends with each other so we that don’t try to end the whole thing. ‘Us’ and ‘them’ across the board, a race of disconnection, and the winners every time are those who stand to profit from our disputes. Or from our complacent displacement of the energy fields that should be vibrating our evolution, but they’ve got us so addicted to convenience that we cheer on every frequency downshift of our consciousness. I may be a government conspiracy nut, but that just refers to me conspiring against the government, there’s just too many layers of intentional disconnect to believe that the man’s not involved with the silencing of our mother.
Let’s get the boring stuff out of the way first, like all the sacred sites of geologic energy we keep blabbing about, magic vortexes or some hippie stuff like that, obviously not something any colonized mind would buy into. (We’d just take it.) Also the extraction of millions of randomly generated mineral deposits that couldn’t possibly affect an electromagnetic field around the Earth if removed, well known to be a vital component of a life sustaining planet, but that proves no ill will, just a business model of profit over people, quite standard issue in today’s global market. Wait, actually I think corporations count as people too now, so then… can they be president? Oh yeah, nevermind.
I’m obviously gonna toss in agriculture - because I believe it is one of the most fundamental sources of our initial energy disconnection - but I can’t get lost in a wormhole about the domestication of dumbed-down inbreeds, the homogenized waveforms of nutrient deficiency, the made-up miracles of monsanto, the sugar, the Corn, the Corn syrup, the Corn flakes, and the cornfed Cows who replaced a highly harmonious diet of evolutionary standards. I can’t quite pinpoint if ag is the cause or effect of the decline called civilization, but not only is it most assuredly the conqueror of lands in a war against our mother, it is also its own biological weapon.
How could you possibly vibrate to your fullest, with a real connection to the planet who birthed you, if every farm fed calorie you’ve ever consumed was long removed from the empowering phibration of evolution? This source energy provides the mechanism for perfection. Wild Buffalo have more vibrating nutrients than farmed Bison, who have more than grassfed Cows, who have more than cornfed cattle, who have more than mcdonalds. And the same goes for the Tomatoes. Domestication equals the dumbing down of our diet, and the disconnection of our society. Please eat real food.
And water. Water is obviously important. It is our entire vibrating body and world and life and yadda yadda, but it’s all good, my city even puts fluoride in it for me. Who knows if the indecent way our water has been treated is intentional, but if it’s not, then we might be in even worse trouble. On the rez, it’s blatant, there’s uranium dumping into the river, pipelines leaking into the river, ranch run-off running off into the river, but the water most everywhere is nothing like the crystal clear glass of connection tapped from the spring at Ben’s place. But if you go and buy spring water, then you only perpetuate the life cycle of bisphenol plastic as you deplete the water cycle of spring, catch twenty-two, though they do have refillable five-gallons, just don’t let them freeze. Or, just camp by a spring, it’s what all the cool kids are doing.
Ok, I think I got all that old news stuff out of the way. Maybe just a quick shout-out to pharmaceuticals, quite proud about a reduction in emotional sensitivity, a numbing of our sixth sense of vibration capture, and a disconnection from our internal guiding light. Drugs are bad, mkay. And alcohol, obviously, but I’ll let you finish that beer before I get too heated about that one, last call.
So that was all just a bunch of the same cornerstones of civilization that I’ve been building a case with ever since the beginning, but there are actually some pretty icky numbing agents that they’re specifically using to make us flatline, yet have us begging for more. Oh preposterous, nobody’s gonna be so strung out that they will willingly overdose on forgetting, unless there’s an app for that.
No time to hang up the phone though, hardly even enough time to cook the frozen food that they’ve got us thoroughly addicted to, so just “nuke” it. Microwaving your food is super bad, it flatlines the vibrations of the water that composes every morsel, and every morsel of you. Don’t believe me? Just try to grow a plant with microwaved water, or youtube it, or try to grow a person. You could also gather some credible testimony, like Albert Einstein, who warned that microwave radiation is incapable of escaping our ionosphere, and has been continuously building up with every beeping bite.
Of course, microwave ovens aren’t the only microwaves frying your brain, ever wonder why they can interfere with your wifi? It's because they’re the same thing. Microwaves make our food boil from the inside, wifi leads to half-baked ideas, and you sync your cell phone directly up to your thought process.
All this technology talk may have made you forget that our alpha brainwaves are coincidentally aligned with the resonant frequency of the Earth, 7.83hz, and it turns out that it’s kind of important for us to stay tuned-in. The science people did all sorts of studies, including working with some sick astronauts, and it turns out that we can’t function without a steady stream of 7.83hz. Also seems to be really tough to detect in concrete cities, where there seems to be a coincidental rise in the symptoms of becoming disconnected from Schumann, such as: brain fog, depression, sleep loss, pain, fatigue and stress. Sorry, does that hit a little too close to your home away from home?
All this data, yet cellular telephony is obviously the planetary communication method of the future. And even before smartphones, we were in a race to overcome the Earth herself. Some of the earliest wireless technology was having a hard time being heard over the constant pulse of Unci Maka, probably could have simply retuned their own frequency to something not in direct competition with hers, but instead, they just amplified the signal by four times and blasted their boombox into our mother's ears. All this stuff was invisible though, which means it doesn’t really exist, except for JesusGod of course, but what would he care about our planet’s prayer vibration?
This 7.83hz is naturally created as our orb builds a resonance between itself and the ionosphere, the positive ions from above rain down on us, as the negative ions sprout between our toes. We walk the Red Road between the two extremes, between the yang of the masculine sky energy and the yin of our Earth Mama, both are vital to our own energy flows and our continued evolution of consciousness. They keep us tuned to the planet, tuned to the universe, and this crippling cover-up of noise pollution has built an electric fence around the sheep of society. Our planet emits a low rumble as it hurls through space, a cyclical vibration that shakes life into being, the root note for all of creation and the base of connection, the comforting song of Unci Maka, and our government literally played a sour note at such a volume that all you could hear was the arrhythmic heartbeat of supremely white noise. Are they idiots, or just evil geniuses?