Author: infidelpig

  This is going to be very short and to the point today.

  In the past I have witnessed comments/diaries about the support of our troops abroad, and in the same month, I’ve heard them called murderers. Not in the text of this blog, but others.

  In the blogosphere people pride themselves upon the real breaking news, and try to expose it for the truth. Lord knows there is plenty of spin comming from the corrupt corporate controlled country we live in.

  Maybe it’s too early, and no one has seen the breaking news, but I have not seen a thing about the two captured soldiers bodies that were found, and reportedly possible beheadings.

  Now, put yourself in these soldiers place…..and the ones who will be bringing their comrades bodies to rest.

  I would like to hear your thoughts on this….

  Setting atop a mountain was a huge stone jutting out from the rest. It stood out, unlike the others, boldly weathering the forces of nature. It seemed to defy all the forces placed against it, stronger than the rest, and its boldness made the other stones pale in comparison.

  On one stormy afternoon the stone was struck with a bolt of lightning unlike any before. With such a force that it split, and it tumbled down the face of the mountain, and began to break into pieces.

  Finally the pieces came to rest in a stream that formed at the bottom of the mountain.

  So you may think, now the stone is at its end, but not at all, for it is only the beginning.

  As the storm raged on, the waters rushed down the mountain seeming intent on drowning the remaining pieces of the stone.  Along with the storm water, there was more added, for the mountain wept of its loss, and its tears joined the waters of the storm, forming a raging river that tumbled downward, carrying all the pieces of the stone with it.

  The waters had become a raging torrent cutting through the land, and forming deep ravines within the quiet countryside.  All the while, carrying the pieces of stone with it.

  The pieces of the stone were tumbled, and gnashed against each other, along with other stones that had been caught up in the torrent. Moving with such force, as if nothing could stop them amongst the countryside in its wake.

  Then, entering into the lowlands, the waters would slow into a rolling river. The storm had passed, and the sun began to shine bringing light onto the waters, and the surrounding countryside.

  The river flowed along the lands, moving the stones with it, still rolling, but a gentler, kinder motion was now in play. As the stones moved with the river, they began to loose their rugged edges.  They were becoming smooth, and shiny, and they showed the true colors that lay within them, from their origin. Their formation of life itself.

  As the river moved on, some would continue, and others would find their place along the banks, and bottoms of the river, their place of rest, where they would continue to wear.  Some would become fences, protecting the boundaries within their borders. Some would become tools, to shape the things to come for the betterment of mankind. Others would be a part of a home that would shelter the people that would live, love, and learn from within. All of them finding their place on the path of life.

  The river would continue onward, ever changing, ever moving the remaining stones, and the small pieces that were worn from the larger would become sand, that would be formed into shapes, and made cohesive by the hands of man, and time.

  At last the rivers would form great oceans that would provide life and sustenance for the people dwelling at its shores. All these forms of life need the waters, for it is life itself.

  The waters that rage, flow, and tumble us into the smooth stones that reinforce life itself. Stones that build fences, homes, become tools, or adorn the bodies of mankind.  Yet we only want to see the pleasure that comes from these stones, never the gnashing, and abrasive grinding pressures necessary to form the smooth, colorful, and even brilliant shining ones.

  This my friends is called evolution. We are ever evolving, learning, loving, living, dying, crying, sharing, and caring, but unfortunately not without malice.  For we as humans have not evolved far enough to do so without these factors. Not at present time in our evolution, or as I would prefer it to be, our Circle of Life.

  These tumbling waters, not unlike our newfound outlet of frustration, Political Blogs are ever moving, ever changing, such as our Circle of Life

  So for me along my journey in the Tumbling Waters I shall hope for no more than to be a colorful stone  to place a single moment in time, of a peaceful smile upon some child’s face. As that child would pick me up, and stare with that youthful innocence of wonderment as to where I came from. What formed me, molded me, and made my otherwise rough exterior into this colorful, smooth, adornment, or pleasure for that brief moment.

  So child of my future, wear me, build with me, or cast me into the waters again, if only to bring a smile upon your face at the sound of my soul falling back into the tumbling waters again, that I may continue my journey.

  For I am only here, to be your future. My wish is that your future will only be brighter, by my passing through these tumbling waters.

  Remember, we are only the caretakers, for our future generations, lest us not leave destruction, but Hope

  Learn, Love, and Live Well, my fellow stones, in life’s Tumbling Waters  
  Look forward to the day when we as mankind, will leave only a smile upon a child’s face, and not scars upon that smile, or its soul. Remember this when you unleash your lightning.

  Wado    Namaste   Peace   Life

  Have you listened, have you learned, will you watch, will you wait, until it is too late?
  As in many diaries here, the reasons are clear, but the response is sometimes quite dear.

  For they are about Hope

  I have spent my time here, never knowing quite clear,
  that my purpose was quite dear.
  Until today, and then in a solemn moment, it became vividly clear.
  Standing by the edge of the water, a breeze swept across, and through my soul,
 that left me completely whole.
  A revelation of sorts,
  with which I could not retort.

 For You Know Me Well.

  (More after the fold)

  Many times in my life, the path that I follow has led me to many places, some good, and some bad. It is this path that led me here, to listen, to think, to learn, to speak.
  This morning in the fog, as I stood on the edge of the water, looking past where the light penetrates, into the abyss. Then it came, a breathe of life, reflections, and understanding that I was told of many years ago, but have never known what the meaning was, until this day.
  I was wondering about an old friend that stood on similar waters contemplating his life, his existence, and the worth of it all. He chose not to continue, and a great loss it was. He was a kind, understanding, and unselfishly giving person, and for that he gave it all. In his hurt, his confusion, and remorse, he left this life because of others, not himself.
  I realized this day, that I was with him, for I had been, for many years, even upon that fateful day. But in his time of mind, it was naught, for sorrow was all that was wrought.

  I am so grateful for all the writings, emotions, dreams, and spirit, this place has sown, and has been privileged to watch them grow. I have seen the meek lash out, the strong cry, the angry provide solstice for those in need, and the absence of the adulteress of greed. For this community has provided a place for seeds to grow. From this experience, now I know, truly how people do grow.

  I will always be with you, from the essence of your soul, when those who seek you to console.

  From: “Southern Sunday”, “The Two Wolves Within”, “I Am the Wind”, and the comments made truly from the spirit within.
These are not my thoughts and spirits, for they truly are yours, and yours alone.

  My path now takes me to another place, another journey, for this one has left footprints that will be remembered, by myself for always, and the ones who have listened well, from all the members diaries, and the memories that dwell.

  I have been asked for a picture, one that captures my likeness, and my soul. My answer has been, “but you have seen me, many times, and you know me well.”

  I am the gleam in an innocent young child’s eyes. The twinkle of a lover’s gleam, and the spark of your dreams. The smile of an elder’s eye, when the youth respects their sires.  I am the light, which changes the shadows, and the one in the campfire embers that glows, when the warmth becomes the soul. I am the spirit that lifts you from the abyss, standing on the edge of the water.

  I now know who I am, I Am Hope

  For You Know Me Well
  In Each of You I Dwell

  My path takes me away from here, and the swamp, (as I have so jokingly referred to it, which actually is not a swamp, but a lush haven in the woods, and from where all nature flows) and alas, away from the wonderful people here.
  I will be in touch, sometimes through another here, but your spirit will always be dear.
  Remember, the one I came to know on this day is not me alone, it is all of us, for we are all as one.

  Mitakuye Oyasin  (we are all the same)

  Wado my Friends, Aho

   May peace be with you and yours always

                                                                                                  Ronald White Wolf

  On a hot summer’s day, and the heat so overwhelming you could not catch your breathe. The stench in the air is so strong that you feel you cannot take another breathe. The stagnate and contaminated waters are rising around you, and you see everything you have worked for in your life being swept away in front of your eyes. You are hopelessly lost in grief and dispair.
  A trembling voice cries out towards the sky in desperate hope for some help, some releif, from this devastating hell your caught up in, but alas, there is none.
  A worn and cracked hand reaches out for something to hold onto, to grasp at the last chance for life. Your very existance itself is in one final trembling muscle tearing clasp, that you know is the only bit of life left in your body.
  The fear inside you is greater than anything you have ever known. An overwhelming desire for one last chance at life itself, and you cry outloud, please do not let me end this way.

  This is not only the ominous fate of so many caught in the wake of the devastating hurricane that has claimed so many lives, but for all of us in everyday life.
  There has been an unnatural pehnomenon that has swept over this counrty and the world and it is having the same effect on all of us, just as those caught in the wrath of the hurricane.
  We see and feel the effects of this in our very own lives. Watching helplessly our future, and oncoming generations being destroyed for the greed of the very few.
  However, even the hurricane force can only last so long. After the storm, there is always that light that comes as the skies clear, and lets the rays of sunlight into the darkened, and weakened area of impact.
  Then at that moment, you will feel the wind, that cools, and soothes that overwhelming heat, and moves the stench away. It is a feeling of releif, for the wind whisps these destructive elements away, and as if the nuturing of mother earth herself wraps you in her arms, and cradles you.
  You find yourself holding outstretched arms welcoming the cooling wind. It lifts your spirits up, and a sigh of releif is expelled by your soul.
  Your eyes are lifted to the skies, and a thanks is given, even knowing the hard task ahead of rebuilding your life, and your futures.

  In light of all that has happened under this administration, their shortcomings are showing, and very blatantly to even a larger number of the most afflicted by the disease of greed. For greed equals power in every sense. One begats the other, always.
  So people I say to you now, be the wind that cools, and soothes. That dries out the soaked soils of contaminated waters. That blows away the stench of the lives and souls left in it’s wake.
  This is the prime time to be the wind that will not bow to the spin of whitewashed lies any longer. Now is the time to be the wind of force that will finally change the direction of the storm we are in.
  For a long time I have watched, listened, and participated in the voicing of our woes. We must not let this pass us by like a gentle summer breeze.
  We must gather our forces at every waking second to accumulate a wind that has such force to clear the storm of greed in which we are caught.
  Not only online blogs, but at every given chance to speak, place a thought in someone’s mind. If the opportunity is there, take it, even better, make it
  At the store, work, play, any chance to make a statememt, we must do so.
  I will not ask you, and I will not beg you to do so.
  I CHALLENGE YOU to do this.
  Make it clear to both sides of the isles, regaurdless of race, religion, or politics. Our message must be absolutely clear.
  WE  WILL  NOT  STAND  FOR THIS ANY LONGER

  With the price of living, fuel, food, pure existance rising beyond the reach of any common person, it is time. Like we have not had since this storm started.
  DO  NOT  LET  THIS PASS

  There is no need to make a list of all the things we know are wrong today. We’ve been doing that for 5yrs now. We know them by heart.

  So this is all I have to say to you, I Am the Wind

  will you join me to become the wind of change, or will you be content in just a passing breeze…..

  One voice, can become a force……let it be so

  The other night reading ghostdancer’s diary, I was overcome with rage, not anger, pure out and out rage such as I have not known in many years.

  It was not at the diary, it was about the treatment of the Native American Human Beings and the general American Public, in relation to current and past events against human rights.

  It brought back a memory, of a time 33 years ago when I took my brother’s body home for burial on his reservation in Wisconsin. He was a Menominee Indian, and we had served together in the Marine Corps, and in every sense of the word, we were Brothers. Not by the same parents, but both our bloods flowed through each other’s veins, from transfussion’s after combat injuries, and spiritual bonds. We had shared everything, food, shelter, crying, laughing, life, soul spirits, and death.

  When I arrived in their hometown, I was greeted by the elders of the tribe, and his sister, and they made me a part of the family.  I stayed on the reservation with his grandfather, grandmother, and a uncle.

  I only had my uniform with me, for the luggage was lost during the flight, so his sister offered to take me to town to buy some clothing. We traveled into the little town and she pointed me towards the clothing store as we passed it walking down the street. We were busy talking about our brother, and his life, and before we knew it, we had entered the store when she stopped abruptly and whirled out the door. Just then I noticed a man approaching at a very fast pace from across the store with his arm extended and a finger pointing towards the door. I turned to see her standing back on the street with a look of terror on her face, and I asked, “what is wrong” She replied, “we are not allowed in the white man’s store”
I then turned to the man approaching and he was saying in an elevated voice, “you KNOW better”.

  At that time I went totally black inside. I mean I did not know where I was, nor what I was doing, all I remember was them pulling me off that man, and another for I was truly going to kill them, make no mistake about it.

  I had just returned from 4 years in the jungles, with my brother always at my side, and now with his greiving sister at my side, and they, (the Menominee and all Native Americans,the only true Americans) were not allowed to go to a public store? In my mind, we had been fighting and dieing, for what we truly beleived in, Rights, Freedom, Democracy, not just ours, but for our country and the Peoples Republic of South Vietnam. It was a very Idealistic time. I was devastated at this action by the white people in that town, and in later years, all of our counrty, for we are all, Americans

  They hustled me back to the reservation, and tucked me away in a log cabin, where I remained until the funeral, and then the flight back to base. Nothing was ever said about the incident in town, but when I got back to the reservation, there was a group of the elders that stayed with me, and we talked for two days, and then the third day, I was honored with a ceremony accepting me into their clan. “Wolf Clan” I remained on the reservation for a little over a week, and found true respect for the Human Beings.

  So the other night reading ghostdancer’s diary, it hit me again, that black rage, like so many years ago, and I had to STOP. I knew if I let that overcome me again, it would do harm, to me. For at that time I remembered what an old friend of many years, a great Choctaw medicine man had taught me about my heritage, (Cherokee) and my spirit guides. I went back to my Ancestor’s folk lore, and here is part of what keeps me going:

  Cherokee Lore
An old Indian Grandfather said
to his grandson who came to him
with anger at a friend who had
done him an injustice……..

Let me tell you a story. I too,
at times, have felt a great
hate for those that have taken
so much, with no sorrow for what
they do. But hate wears you
down, and does not hurt your enemy.

It is like taking poison and
wishing your enemy would die.
I have struggled with these
feelings many times.

He continued……

It is as if there are two
wolves inside me;
One is good and does no harm.
He lives in harmony with all
round him and does not take
offense when no offense was
intended. He will only fight
when it is right to do so,
and in the right way. He saves
all his energy for the right
fight.

But the other wolf, ahhh!

He is full of anger.
The littlest thing will set
him into a fit of temper. He
fights everyone, all the time,
for no reason.

He cannot think because his
anger and hate are so great.
It is helpless anger, for his
anger will change nothing.

Sometimes it is hard to live
with these two wolves inside
me, for both of them try to
dominate my spirit.

The boy looked intently into
his Grandfather’s eyes and asked…

Which one wins, Grandfather?

The Grandfather smiled and
quietly said……

The one I feed.

  Now, some of your may know why my comment was short, and strange, but I could not feed the wrong wolf, anymore.

  I have seen many diaries, and comments about the effect current events are having on so many, their family, and loved ones, and it is a time to bond, and not a time to disband, for all of us who know what is truly right, and what is wrong.

  So let us feed the good wolf, and stay the true path for our people. For at the end of the journey, there will be light.

  Mitakuye Oyasin

  Wado Ghostdancer

                                Wolf

  With all the current events, and none of them delightful, to say the least, I thought I would share a Southern Sunday with you folks.

  For the past couple of days, there has been a stray kitten hang’n round my place, and very skidish to say the least. I’ve been trying to lure the little critter with some milk, and tuna fish, to no avail.
  Finally yesterday, the little bugger kept crying around till I finally lured it under the steps of the front screened porch, with some milk, and tuna.
  It had been hiding in the undercarriage of my jeep, just outta reach, without risking injury to the kitten,to get it out, I just kept trying to bait it out.
  Now it was very scrared, and quite cautious of any movement whatsoever. I could see, it was almost on the verge of complete starvation, and very weak, so I bided my time, and kept the milk at the ready.
  Last evening, we had some dandy storms come through the area, and dumped quite a few inches of rain,in just a very short period of time, and in Florida, it don’t take long, to get what we call a “frog-strangl’n rain”
  Now there was quite the display of lightning, wind, and a large amount of rain, and the power was knocked out early in the evening.  I knew the kitten was under the steps, with milk, and food, so I figured it was gonna be allright for a spell.
  Unfortunately, the rain was so strong, that it must have washed the kitten out into the yard. I had been asleep for a spell, no puter, and no music to listen too, so this ol’ boy took a nappy.
  I awoke around 11:30pm to the sound of kitty crying, and went out in the rain trying to find it, as I realized it was not under the steps, after checking.  I searched the undercarriage of the Jeep, and the Pickup, and could’nt find it, so I figured since the sound was muffled, it was up under the hood, (where I had found it a day earlier) and again, thought, okay, your safe there for the night.
  This morning, being Sunrise Sunday, I called all the family, and spent some time chatt’n with them, and giving the best holiday wishes, and then went out to try and wrangle that little rascal outta the truck.
  I popped the hood, and it was no where to be found, then, on to the Jeep, still no kitty, and I had’nt heard it since the wee hours of the morning.
  Just when I closed the hood on the truck, I glanced over at the Magnolia tree in the yard, and saw something, and it tore my heart out.
  There was the kitten, face down, in the water soaked ground, and being wet, you could see every bone in the poor thing, it’s eyes all matted together, and not moving.
  I went to pick it up to bury it, and just as I leaned over, I saw a twitch, and one gasp for air.
  I picked it up and went inside to get a big ol’ terry cloth towel, wrapped it up, and started to massage it. The kitten started to cry, but it was so weak, it could barely make a sound, but it was breathing, very shallow, but still, some life.
  I warmed another towel, and wrapped it in that one, then, I warmed some milk/honey, and got just a drop or two down the lil’ bugger.
  So the day has been about every 1-2 hrs, a drop or two of the milk, Tupelo honey, and a smidgeon, of Echanacea. Now the little rascal, is sleeping, off and on, and let’s me know when it’s time for a lil’ nourishment, just a little at a time, but this evening, about two droppers full, and seems to be rest’n easier, and breathing better.
  Come tomorrow morning, when the vet open’s, this little rascal will get a trip to the doc. I don’t know if the one eye is going to make it or not, but so far, it’s life is look’n much more promising.
  Now, for the rest of the Southern Sunday, between nursing the lil’ kitten, I prepared my Sunday dinner, and it went like this:
  Cast Iron Dutch Oven, put in a little bacon grease, get it hot on the stove top, chop up one sweet Vidalia Onion, chunk up 3 home grown sweet tater’s, 4 pats of butter, small palm full of natural brown sugar, and simmer, then crank up the heat, sear the 1lb. parsel of home grown pork tenderloin, (in the same pot) add a droozle of EVO, some Soul Season’n, pinch of sea salt, grind some fresh black peppercorn’s, and then pop that bad boy in the oven @ 350 for 1hr, 30 mins.  (add in one more kitty feed’n, during the cook’n time) and voila…..
   Mmmmm, Mmmmmmmm, I’m tell’n ya, it’ll make your tongue slap the ridges off’n the roof of yer mouth…woooohoooo.
  Now, after all that, here’s the point, there is nothing more fill’n, than the sweet spirit of life, and the pleasure’s it can, and will bring unto you, if’n only you let it.  ; )

  Take time away from the rage, and let some sunshine in.
  As a matter of fact, I think I’ll call the kitty, Sunrise, in light of the Spirit of the day.

  Y’all have a great Sunday even’n, and reach out and hug the ones you love, and if’n there not in reach, then give them a call, and just tell’m, how much you love them.
  B’bye,,,,gotta run, that lil’ Sunrise is bellar’n for some more milk/honey.  ; )