Path Symbol: As seen in a book of petroglyphs by the author in the year 2000.
Credited to the Anasazi circa 1100 A.D,
while his vision of the symbol came in 1997, confirming its significance.
Connections to the Path

Copyright By D.C. Bianchino All Rights Reserved..2001


ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Special thanks to

Merielle Sioui, Wendat Artist
For use of her bear and turtle picture

Sherron Martin
For some editing and use of her artwork

Tre, for some typing, and editing suggestions

Doug Landry
His artwork / parity of a man and a woman

Brian Smith Jewelman, for Path symbol

Jamie Gemmiti for photos of Native woman holding news paper, and White Buffalo.

Christine and Danny
My children
for making their sacrifice

and last,
to all my guides

D. C. Bianchino is the Poet Laureate of Bartlett, NH. His other works Include several books of poetry.

Another You Another Me

Moon Beams And Mason Jars

Pearls And Pigeons

The Secret

Street Grass

Under The Bark

Seven Crows

Copyright 1998. All rights reserved.
Up-Dated Dec. 2000.
D.C Bianchino
Whitebear72@hotmail
. First the History and
Background for ‘ The Return, A Prophecy’s Unfolding “

Those who take on the world,
Raise themselves.
While those who take on themselves,
Raise the world.

INTRODUCTION

The purpose of this work is to share visions. You might enter this work with an open mind and try not to look at it as only one person's experience. Throughout time many around the world have experienced guidance with the same intent of Spirit. I believe in a collective consciousness. Because my visions are so powerfully received, I am compelled to share them and feel they belong to us all.

The revelation of the visions and the messages herein, however they might be interpreted, are the gift of my life's work. It is both an effort and an honor to add to and bring up-to-date the connection we have to the Spirit speaking to us now, guiding us to understand what is going on… and why. The visions and the events that follow are in correct order and were not influenced by mood changing or mind-altering drugs.

A second purpose is to introduce a pipe I was inspired to produce in 1977. It lights from the bottom. It suggests thinking in a new direction -- that it's never too late to turn ourselves around. It is said the stem of a pipe reflects male energy, and the bowl, female energy. When the two come together, a spark is born. The spark ignites into flame, burning whatever is inside the bowl. Finally freed through Smoke, a perfect balance of male and female energy occurs. It seems to be a working analogy of our transformation and ultimate parity. Also, this pipe is being called “The New Sacred Peace Pipe” by the Huron Wendat.

I also wish to share a symbol called “The Path”. This symbol came to me during the fall of 1997.

I offer this book as inspiration and encouragement to feed the Shadow Radiant Food, honoring the dark side of our nature, feeding it with Love and Understanding, realizing its place in the fulcrum of balance. It is up to us… It's our Song…….Daniel

FORWARD

Back in the spring of 1997, a friend's wife was thinking about helping me write my book, "Connections." She asked me what I thought the main point was…. "Well," I said, "let me think about that." The next day I gave her a call and told her I thought the Messenger, the Christ, The One The World Is Waiting For is HERE…NOW...and furthermore came into this world in the early Nineteen Eighties…"

To defend my case I referred to a vision I'd received of a Goat backing out of a Fish's mouth. ( dates 1983 or 84). "At first," I explained to my zealous friend, "I didn't know what the vision meant, until a few years later when I read a book by Carl Jung in which he said that information was coming in from receivers around the world about an age called Capricorn. Now Jung theorized that the age of Capricorn isn't for another twenty-four hundred years, however its symbols were all those I saw, except in my vision a birth took place." I explained that Carl Jung died in 1950, so those receivers must have been receiving their visions of the mountains, the depths of the sea, and the Goat Fish much before 1950… But I too had those same images in 1983 or 84, though in mine as I have said a birth took place.

Now, the Goat backing out of the Fish's mouth (a birth on land) I found extremely compelling because it seemed apprehensive, full of fear, much like us… Again as I thought about this, it made sense that the World Messenger would enter this way, at this time, as a Goat to have the experience of climbing the many mountains. That's why all paths are equally important in the collective sense of experience before a new Age of Wisdom can be obtained. Coming out of the age of Pisces, Fish (the living Christ the last 2000 years) associated with Compassion, beckons Head (Goat) and Heart (Fish) to inevitably Connect.

Continuing, I explained a subsequent Flash in 1996, which showed Goat now to be a young adult with beautiful pure white shaggy hair ( date Nov. 1996). Immediately following this spontaneous Vision, I met a woman, (whom I told) who related the Vision's white shaggy-haired Goat to the Messenger her religion awaits, verifying the importance of the Flash, of the return of this Christ, beyond my own humble interpretation and self doubt. The fact that she asked if the Goat had horns also suggested to me that this Messenger hadn't yet gained full wisdom or maturity but was rapidly growing. The Vision Birth took place in 1983-1984, and already in 1996 (just twelve to thirteen years later) was manifesting as this young completely pure white adult goat… This indicates the actual potential of a full maturing to take place in our lifetimes. (Again in our collective consciousness)

Continuing my defense I thought back to a vision of Compassion ( 1980-85) in which I ended up being on a field that was alive and made of a lamb's skin (Lamb being associated with the Christ). And what I saw was this field being woven by a human, and it was almost finished. (We are these weavers.) And what allowed me this visit to the weaver's field was Compassion, again associated with the Christ and His living message for the last 2000 years…

(Incidentally that woman who had asked me what the main point was, quickly decided not to help me with this book.)

So now to sum it up, it is my opinion looking at the facts, via visions and other experiences, that the Return of Christ as promised has happened. As far as the end of the world (World without end amen) it is the end of the seventh cycle. This Return is reflected in our consciousness and has been growing rapidly since the early eighties.

To validate all the experiences that are suggesting that this “Return” has taken place, was the gift of this new symbol back in 1997 “The Path”, with its Divine message, "The Path that's neither left nor right, nor in the middle, is the one that circles all three." Which not only challenges us to respect all Paths, (By NOT Interfering) but reminds us that All Paths are Sacred in the scheme of things. This respect for all paths will be the ultimate compassion born out of wisdom, from this collective experience. It is the final test that will lead to giving up all control, (False Pride) this to come about through irritations that humble one. (So this fire of the heart) and to fully trust once again in the One Who Resides Above Us All. (GOD) Remember wisdom does not judge because it has experienced all the peaks, which we are doing now. (The Goat) "I overlooked a thousand peaks each one I'll come to Know…" (refer to page ___, _______) We will, come to know…

CHAPTER ONE:

LOOK WHAT YOU DID

And the rains came and the paths crossed
And the dams broke and the waves tossed
And the people hid and the mud slid
And something said....

" Look what you did
Look what you did
Look what you did ".

And the fires burned and the hearts boiled
And the seas bled and the food spoiled
And the world stopped and the ears popped
And something said....

" Look what you did
Look what you did
Look what you did ".

And the false pride and the false desire
And all controls fueled the fire
And the walls crashed and the teeth gnashed
And lightning struck with every flash
And the world shook like in "The Book"
And something said that finally took....

" Look what you did
Look what you did
Look what you did ".

And a few remained that did survive
Who built canoes who simplified
Who shunned all greed and mystified
Led by one who testified....

" Look what YOU did
Look what YOU did
Look what YOU did "...

(Insert Sherron Martin’s picture of tree with crow on top)

Woman-Through your womb pyramids were built,
Empires destroyed towers that tilt.

Through your womb rainbows appear,
Chaos, confusion, reason and fear.

Through your womb waves they rise,
Tempests, droughts, changing skies.

Through your womb the candle was born,
The flax, the flicker, from flame it adorns.

Through your womb every war has been fought,
Winners and losers, and peace that was sought.

Through your womb new stars are found,
New tears, new joys, new destinies bound.

Through your womb light was shed,
Over darkness death from wounds that bled.

Through your womb every gender must pass,
Every shade, every type, every size, every class.

Through your womb comes anger and hate,
With love relentless sealing their fate.

Through your womb the magic and myth,
Illusion and beauty that all somehow fits,

Through, your womb.

It's Our Song

It's the beauty of the dance,
It's the beauty of the song.
It's the movement that inspires,
Love for which we long.
It's the passion in the words,
It's the way they are sung.
It's the feeling we can feel,
When those feelings, they are one.

It's the struggle for that moment,
That will never disappear.
It's the movement in the music,
That brings the moment near.
It's the pain of the past,
And the dream that survives.
It's that moment in-between,
That let’s the heart, lets it fly.

It's the beauty in the dance,
It's the beauty in the song.
It's that beauty in the music,
And that dream to carry on.
It's Our Song.

It's the passion it's the pain,
It's the wind it's the rain.
It's our song.
It's the heart that wants to fly,
It's the wings that take it high.
It's our song.
It's all that we can feel,
That makes the beauty real.
It's our song.

It's one moment that survives
In this dream that comes alive
In the beauty of the dance
That’s Our Song.

Chronology Of Visions and Experiences Beginning 1976

November 1976. My first major vision was to experience the ultimate reality. Some call this the Tyber, or Cosmic consciousness. I saw a single eye. The white of the eye was extremely white, with white lines running through it, giving it a billowy effect. The center was as blue as I'd ever seen. I became aware of being in its body, which was the Universe itself and everything contained in it. I could feel the power, love, and wisdom. I tried to capture that experience in a poem I called "The Eye", written later in the late Eighties.

"A reflection from a bathroom mirror,
Sometime A.M. ..The house asleep.
I looked in awe and humbled terror,
Witness to an eye so deep.
I paled against its fearsome courage,
Wisdom, love, and form complete.
For consciousness was there before me,
Everywhere, I felt it seep.
A vivid picture, white vibrant lines
Billowed eye, blue refined.
When next saw bodies sleeping as mine,
The silence cracked inside the twine.
This presence was behind each fiber,
That formless form was all about,
This cosmic ring known as the "Tyber"
The breath of breath, within and out."

Some time later, in the early eighties, I was given a book called Modern Mystics and Sages, which had an eye on the cover closely resembling the eye I had seen; and so I knew I wasn't the only one who had this incredible experience.

After that experience, the very next night, I had another vision.

This time I am led through a door that is an entrance. There are two rooms: one is on my left, the other on my right. I am shown the room to my left. A woman is lying on a slat jutting from the wall, which is her bed. It is half way up, on the back wall to which I face. She appears to be as old as time itself. She is waving one of her arms, as if calling me to come to her, as though she has something to tell me. She has long silver hair, white milky arms, and her face is made of suede of several different colors, and is smooth like calves’ skin. There is a light about her. She frightens me, and I run away. A woman of this description is mentioned as White Buffalo Calf Woman, who brought the Sioux the Sacred Pipe. Interestingly enough, seven months after that vision, in June of 1977, I have an idea for a new pipe. It lights from the bottom! This connection with White Buffalo Calf Woman, became more and more apparent.
I incorporated these two vision experiences (along with others that would come later) into other poems, "Thee Sacrifice", "Fear", "The Arrival" and "Happy Rain" and were included in a book I called Seven Crows.

1980 through 1985. Have several more visions; two while attending a retreat, which I attended once a year for ten years running. The first vision was about letting go. The second concerned compassion, and the third experience, which involved a temptation, resulting in a rapture of ultimate bliss.

1983-84. Vision of a white sacred fish. It gave birth to a baby goat that backed out of its mouth. It was black with white spots. A few years later while reading a book by Carl Jung called Memories, Dreams, and Reflections, he talks about similar imagery, which he said was coming in from other receivers around the world. In my vision a birth took place.

1985. Have a Vision of a wild crazy horse. A few months later, I received an obituary in the mail. It is of a friend who died the night of my vision of the horse. There's a post card with it. It has an unprocessed stamp of Crazy Horse. My friend was a free spirit, and drawn to my pipe because he sensed its importance.

1987. Sitting alone at home, speaking to Christ, the Unseen, I made a request to become a disciple. ...No different,....no different than those who were called 2000 years ago.

The following day, a friend, unaware of my personal request, handed me a book. The first page read, The Way of a Disciple. It was a book by Alice Bailey, a theosophist, introducing me to K.H., also known as the Tibetan.

October -November 1988. An old man appears in vision. He is at peace-I asked him the secret of his peace. Light hearted, he tells me to kill. I think he means to kill desires.

1989. One year later, I am shown in another vision the old man's meaning. This vision involves a black dog and a white dog. I see how they are pulling me apart, -and how ferocious they both are. I have them both killed, and for the first time felt peace and freedom. I could see how they represented good and evil, and were tearing the world apart-and needed to be killed psychologically-I adapted this experience into a poem called "In Their Names".

IN THEIR NAMES

Here we go again,
With the same thing.
In a world still just insane.

Each side choosing sides
On all sides.
Each thinking they are right,
With something to be gained.

It's a world still mad,
And it's really really sad.
Cause we're not that bad,
Just think we've all been had.

Mohammed and the Jesus Christ,
Or those who we pray to.
I think they would have stayed away,
Seeing what we do.
It's so insane. It's in their names.

Every form of prejudice,
Makes somebody rich.
So with those who think they're not,
When off to fight this itch.

Good against the Evil Ones,
Each thinking they are good.
Trying to kill the so-called beast,
While it hides right under hood.

Arms dealer's fueling fires,
Playing deadly games.
Countries seeing lots of jobs,
In each cross exchange.

Profits are the motives,
In those deadly flames.
Dividing each by their beliefs,
Inflicting words of pain.

Compassion waits the message,
Let go step aside.
While those who think an eye for eye,
I think they call that pride.

Still makes you wonder why,
Prophets ever came.
When here we go again,
In a world still just insane.

It's so immature,
When all is said and done.
But the pain and sorrow that is real,
And felt by everyone.

It's a world still mad,
And to think that we are had.
While some are even glad,
And that's really, really sad.

Mohammed and the Jesus Christ,
Or those who we pray to.
I think they would have stayed away,
Seeing what we do. It's so insane,
It’s in their names.

It's so insane,
It’s in their names.
It's so insane,
It’s in their names.

Later, during 1996 I read a book about Black Elk. In it he describes a vision he had of a dog that was half-black and half-white. He thought it meant to kill your enemy like a dog. For years prior to 1976, I had dreams of two black dogs that would chase me. In some circles they were known as the guard dogs of hell. Then came the dream when I stopped running and faced them, realizing later they had their place, even though they also are part of the same great illusion we all must face.

These experiences led to a poem that illustrates the fears within that great illusion.

FEAR

Fear, fear, where do we go from here?
Fear, fear, let's give them a kick in the rear.
Fear of worms, fear of snakes, fear of germs, fear of quakes.
Fear to laugh, fear to cry, fear to change, fear to try.
Fear I said Fear! Let's make them all very clear.
Fear of losing, fear of winning, fear of endings, and beginnings.
Fear of ghosts, fear of demons, fear of monsters when we're dreaming.
Fear of AIDS, fear of spades, fear of bombs, razor blades.
Fear of spiders, fear of bees, fear of birds, tiny fleas.
Fear of buses, fear of planes, fear of cars, fear of trains.
Fear of dogs, fear of cats, fear of lobsters and of bats.
Fear of water, fear of fire, fear of falling, going higher.
Fear of mothers, and of fathers, boyfriends, girlfriends, sisters, brothers.
Fear to smoke, fear to eat, fear to go across the street.
Fear of silence, fear of violence, fear to dance and of tridents.
Fear of Satan, fear of sex, fear of witches and their hex.
Fear of pain, fear of pleasure, fear of things we cannot measure.
Fear of failure and success, or not looking at our best.
Fear of women and of men, fear to make another friend.
Fear of lightening or tornadoes, and erupting of volcanoes.
Fear of insects, all things creeping, fear of waking and of Sleeping.
Fear of truth, fear to seek, fear to look and to speak.
Fear of God, and the dark, fear that we may have the mark.
Fear of dating and of waiting, fear of not participating.
Fear of sailing, fear of flying, fear of biking, and of driving.
And so they go ad infinitum, one or another we all got 'em.
Fear to love, fear to give, fear to die, fear to LIVE!

December 1989. Have a vision of a gold cat. I had entered a room. I was in the presence of someone I could not see. The gold cat enters the room. After being assured by the presence with me that I could be trusted, the cat lays on its side. As its stomach opens, a two-tone gray cat steps out. Then the gold cat and I go to pick some vibrant green grass to feed the gray cat. It was to feed the shadow radiant food. I felt this was an initiation.

December 1991. The beginning. Feel an explosion in my belly. It is a mystical fire. Go without sleep for several days. I have exceptional energy and clarity. Later that month, in the morning at home alone, a female voice calls my name twice. She says DANIEL, waits 15 seconds, and then repeats DANIEL. It is loud and clear. It was as if she was giving me a wake up call. Like, you better get ready. The voice I heard was that of my wife's, at that time. In recounting the incident later to my wife, she tells me she had the same experience, hearing my voice instead.

February 1992. Vision of a priestly figure. He is feeding me the Eucharist, from his mouth to mine. He is a young adult.

February 1992. A week or so later. Vision of two priestly figures. One gives me instructions. "Live simply, don't interfere, and stop enjoyment." Stopping enjoyment leaves me baffled.

June 1992. I complete a new all wood pipe.

July 1992. Fire rages inside me and I am entering the dark night of the Soul. Revelation not to run away, know that I'm to stay with it, right where I am. (I am dealing with my false pride)

July 1992. Have a vision of a pair of wolves. I can't see them but I know they are there. One is male and one is female. They are at the top of the mountain I am climbing. They frighten me, so I start to head back down the mountain. Two horses come from the bottom chasing after me. One is black and the other is like the one in my Crazy Horse vision, chestnut. I know they want me to go to the top of the mountain and face the wolves.

A few years later I incorporated this experience with others into this next poem.

SOMETIMES I CANNOT SEE
THE MOUNTAIN

Where the breeze blows silent
Is where I shall build my home.
In a dream of morning last
Its site I freely roamed.

Over snows pristine white
On the highest of plateaus,
I overlooked a thousand peaks
Each one I'll come to know.

Just sometimes I cannot see the mountain
When clouds keep it from sight.
Sometimes I feel so damn lonely,
I guess it's just my fear of height.

Life is a poem never finished,
A song spoken from the grave.
Sometimes I cannot see the mountain,
Though I know I go there with the brave.

Sometimes goodbye means no turning back,
And pain postpones another start.
Sometimes my eyes fill with moonlight,
Reflecting off the ocean in my heart.

My tears are the feelings I had yesterday,
And of the future I fear to be without.
In the meantime reason as with destiny,
Keeps testing me to overcome this doubt,
When sometimes I cannot see the mountain.

August 1992. Meet a man who worked with the Sioux. He encourages me to continue work with the pipe. Tells me it's important. Makes me a Medicine stick. Says I am a Medicine Man. Stays eight days with us. He is with his new family, an eight year old boy, a new baby and His beautiful wife. He is extremely prolific... almost supernaturally so. When he arrived at my house that first day, upon entering says, "Oh now I know why". With that he went back out to their van. When he came back in, he had a painting. He said he had painted it three months before (He painted Native art), and "it belongs to you". The painting was of two whales, one female, and one male. They were out in space, with stars in the background. They were also facing opposite directions with one of them on top of the other. Also there was a shooting star heading in their direction. Later in 1996, I would find out this was a native symbol for yin and yang. .

August 1993. Vision of fire opens vistas unseen. Fire begins at my house. This was a prophetic vision showing me what was ahead of me. This was a continuation of a personal fire. Not what we would think of as a real fire. Near the end of the month, my wife leaves.

September 1993. My Mother gives me her scrapbook. At one time she was a singer. Handing it to me she says, "I was a little star". I write a poem about that, calling it "You Said You Were A Little Star", which I was able to share with her. She was approaching death. Early October 1993. I hear the sound of a horse’s hoof beating the ground outside my house. I go outside to look. Nothing is there. The next night my Mother dies. I knew this would be so.

October 1993. The night my Mother dies there is a warm gentle rain. After going back to my house, sometime around three a.m., the rain stops for a moment, and a single star appears in the sky. Two weeks after my Mother dies, to the day, the Father who raised me dies. He'd had a dream the night before and in it dug up my Mothers casket. She was waving him to come to her. And so he did.... That night there was also a warm gentle rain when once again it stopped for a moment, and, while looking out my window, two stars appeared. They were side by side.

A few days before my mother was to die, I caught her and the father who raised me in this unusually quiet, and intimate moment, which I later tried to capture in this poem.

ELEANOR

I heard a story
About a man and his wife,
He was about to die,
To give up this life,
When someone next to them
Heard the man say,
"I'll see you my darling
On the Milky Way."
He would wait for her there,
Though it be far,
And together they'd travel
To every known star.
And I thought how lucky
Some people they be,
To have someone to die for,
And waiting to see.
Then I thought of my Mother
Just before she had died,
And the Father who raised me,
Who looked in her eyes.
Now unable to speak,
And unable to see,
Though 76, looked 103.
Fragile lass she had become,
Dying at home with dignity done.
And He ten years younger,
A handsome man,
Tenderly stroking her hair with his hand.
And the question he had was,
"Are you afraid? "
And she shook her head no
For her faith hadn't strayed.
And he said, "I didn't think so. "
While admiring her,
When he asked her this question
Firsthand that I heard....(With a humble quiet tone )
"Do you still love me?",
Like a boy to reassure.
And when she nodded yes,
I saw love that is pure.
And I thought how lucky
Some people they be,
To have someone to love them,
Without vanity.
And two weeks to the day
My Mother had died,
And the Father who raised me
Looked in her eyes.
He'd had a dream that night before
And he dug up her casket
And out stepped Eleanor.
That beautiful young girl
He never forgot
Was waving him on,
Believe it or not.
When later that day,
Sometime around four,
He died in their house,
Right there on the floor.
And I thought how lucky
Some people they be,
To have someone to die for
And waiting to see.
And I know they're together
And right where they are,
Exploring that Milky Way
And every known star.
And I thought how lucky
Some people they be,
As I wondered who'd be there,
Waiting for me.

Near the end of October 1993. I have a vision of a Turtle. The imagery left me feeling as if I had taken a sacred vow. I wasn't sure what it was. That it was somehow connected to the earth. (Later, I would come to understand that the Native interpretation of the turtle represents our earth.

January 1994. I am sitting in my house in the afternoon when I have a vision of a White Bear. In the vision, there were two young boys standing close together who were about thirteen years old. They represented different aspects of myself. One boy was looking off in another direction in a disinterested way. When the white bear appeared, it towered over the other boy, and while standing, threw itself head first, in a loving way, into that boy's chest. This was done with an obvious determination. All at once I understood why, from that period of my life, my heart had been put through so many tests and, where the power of my ability to endure these tests came from. I also felt the substance, or works, that came from the heart was a food, or manna, for this white bear. And because of the severity of some recent tests, the white bear was granting me this vision, ...for I was in need of courage to continue. I knew the disinterested shadow of the boy had his place. He was not to be denied, but, instead, he also was to be fed this radiant food, which comes from the heart.

February, 1994. Vision. The sky turns into a hand. I know it to be Mary's, mother of Christ. She offers it to me with a message. She says 26 million seedlings will die. She is speaking from what I felt was Yugoslavia.

Spring of 1994. Everything fell into place to have a two-inch high white bear produced. On the day of the eclipse during June of 1994, I took my medicine stick, which was made for me in August of 1992 and Sioux in origin, and went to the top of my favorite mountain. At the beginning of the eclipse, I made my request that the spirit of the white bear that entered my heart enter the little white bears and the heart of those who would receive them. After enjoying the rest of the eclipse, I headed down the mountain and found a hawk's feather. This told me my prayer was answered.

June 1994. A new birth.

THE ARRIVAL

When the hurt's there, some people say
Let it go don't feel that way.
But the hurt says I'm not through
And I know you better than they all do.
So you meditate and concentrate
And try like hell to get it straight.
But the pain says, "peek a boo, here I am,
With something new. "
Then you sit around and feel the pain
'Cause what the good folks said was tried in vain.
And days pass and the years mass
And the sun comes out but it don't last.
And the dogs bark and the wolves howl
As they try to wake that inner child.
And the mommy dies and the baby cries
'Cause the world it knew is filled with lies.
So the trust goes and the heart explodes
As the baby clings to all it knows.
But you're heading down and losing ground
Still the inner child just can't be found.
Then a marriage breaks and the earth it shakes
And you're left alone with death at stake.
But you see yourself you cannot hide
And what you see is bullshit pride.
And the feelings hurt and you're insane
But you see things clear the whole damn game.
'Til the truth becomes unbearable
But you can't go back so you're miserable.
And the baby cries 'cause it wants some ties
And a fire burns as it purifies.
Then the Universe that has this plan
Turns the sky into a hand.
And she reaches down and offers it
And you sense somehow that you must fit.
And your heart is raw from all it saw
And you wonder what,... what it's for.
When from a wreck found out at sea
You save one child turning destiny.
You look for others as you descend
Deeper and deeper the deepest you've been.
But the water's clear it is clean
Nothing’s hidden nothing seen.
So the child arrives and the child survives
And you catch the drift that it implies.
When a lion comes to eat the child
And you slay the beast because it's wild.
And the heart still raw doesn't close
And you see things different you suppose.
When another comes into your life
And you both feel love you know is right.
And you feel the chase is finally done
'Cause you have this sense of being one.
For what was found was parity
Beneath the ashes both could see,
And the children smiled.

July 1994. Vision of green-eyed lady, two in the afternoon, on my porch. She is extremely beautiful. She is fair skinned, has blond hair and pure green eyes. I ask her "What is it?” knowing her to be my Soul mate. She answers, "Patience". Next day, same time, another appearance, this time, a faceless image with one green eye centered between where brows would be. No words are exchanged

August 1994. A white buffalo was born in the United States. In recent years, natives had been saying this event would happen. It was part of a prophecy that had been passed down by them with a story concerning the Sacred White Buffalo Calf Woman. A long time ago, she gave a sacred pipe to the Oglala Sioux. White Buffalo Woman taught them how to use the pipe in prayer and then told them that at the end of the world, or this cycle, that she would come back to earth and reveal herself as a white buffalo. She then left the Oglala Sioux village and turned herself into a white buffalo, changing colors as she rolled over four times.

October-November 1994. A woman who says she's guided by spirit calls me. She had never been to New Hampshire. Upon arrival a psychic directs her to me. She says it's important that we meet. I bring her to my house. She tells me she is a healer and guided by a spirit. I asked her who the spirit is and she replies "K.H.", whose initials I recognize. (Refer to 1987) The whole time she is talking to me I have a burning sensation where a third eye might be. I show her many totems that have come to me in many interesting ways. Told her I was still waiting for two more, concerning two visions; a pair of wolves, and a turtle. I explained the Turtle vision I had had to her. She said "I'm glad you told me of the Turtle vision, because I brought this with me from the Orchid Islands. Opening her hand, a metal turtle with the Buddha sitting on the shell was there in her palm. She then said, "It is for you". Once again I was given a message of patience.

November -December 1994. I make a trip to Cambridge Mass. It's a Saturday, with a nor'easter keeping the people at home. In spite of this, I go to a bookstore in Harvard Square. I immediately went to a center table piled high with the latest releases.

Upon picking up the first book, a tall gentleman walked up to me and said, "Is it enlightenment you're looking for?” Then pointing to his head, says, "It's up here". Quickly I responded, "I think it's down here", pointing to my heart. He adds, "Ah, you must be a poet". He then told me that he and his wife were Druids, and that recently they found some very old Druid circles, not too far north of Cambridge. I then told him that my house sat on shamanistic ground, and said, "In fact just this past June I had an appearance of a woman-" He cut me off and said, "Tell me, did she have green eyes, blond hair, and was she very beautiful?” Stunned, I said, "Yes". Assured, he said her name, which I quickly forgot. Then I told him of the visitation I had had the next day, concerning the one green eye, whose name was also on the tip of his tongue. There were two other people in the bookstore other than the clerk. Two women, one of which walked over to us, with a book in her hand. It was opened. She said, "I couldn't help listening to your conversation", and holding her book up to us said, "This is the woman you have both been discussing". Well, with that, I left the bookstore, and even though I spaced out on both the names, I knew a connection was made.

March 1995. The Crow vision. Two crows. One in mid air. One in a nest. Mosquitoes are circling both. So thick they can't be seen. When the mosquitoes disappear, the crow in mid-air turns into a small white lamb.
Within 24 hours I have another vision. I was at the highest mountain overlooking a thousand peaks. I knew I'd be home once I had experienced them all.

A PLAN COMING DOWN


There's a plan coming down,
So at least I have found,
And at times it's so painful
I just cry.
There's a change going on
And I hope it won't last long,
'Cause I feel if it does
I'm going to die.
I'm trying to hang in,
But my skin is getting thin
From the fire that is burning me inside.
But I know I'm not alone,
That's because I have been shown.
And it's something to do
With my pride.
And it's painful 'cause there's no place
To hide.
I stumble and I fall,
And believe me that ain't all,
I kick and scream to let me have my way.
But I've also kissed the snow
For times it was no go,
'Cause I wouldn't have the chance I have today.
I've seen mosquitoes circle crows,
So thick the mind it blows,
And felt their irritation like my own.
But there was a transformation
Which seems this destination
When I also saw a place above I'd flown.
And I knew that I would go there, it was home!

(Now being 2000, it is interesting to note how the mosquitoes are infecting the crows in a fatal way with the Niles virus)

Near spring of 1995. One night in bed I feel something biting at my toes. I kick it, and hear it thud. I know it to be a cat, even though I do not have a cat. It reminds me of the vision of the gold cat.
In the middle of next night, a mystical experience, I feel a giant celestial bird that sits on my roof. I sit up, the bird knows I am awake, and I hear its huge wings lift off. I think to myself, this bird is caring for me, protecting me and that I am still young and in its nest.

Spring 1995. The woman guided by spirit, who visited me in October 1994, returns and brings me a picture of Sigh Baba. Later tells me to call a woman she met at the Edgar Cayce Foundation. She said she would have something to tell me. I call and the woman said that I had six guides now guiding me. Three were from the old school, and that was the reason for my tough testing. And that recently two new guides (young) had joined up, and that they would start to open up things.


September 1995
HAPPY RAIN


There's a woman, who stole Thunder,
When he rolled across the sky.
Then she took him way down under,
Where fire keeps things dry.
When days and months
And years passed by, and Raincloud didn't cry.
The earth and everything she grew,
All began to die.

One day when Thunder
Closed his eyes,
A goddess did appear.
Her eyes were green,
Her hair was blond,
With skin fair and clear.
Thunder asked this goddess,
"Tell me, what is it? "
And she answered, "Patience."
Then made a quick exit.

The next day Thunder,
Again closed his eyes,
And another face appeared to him,
This time with one green eye.
No nose no mouth no hair appeared,
And not a word was spoken,
With the eye between
Where brows would be,
He read this, as a token.

Now Thunder had been shown
(It was almost a year)
When Turtle taught him what to do,
And not to interfere.
So when this fall a spirit came,
With gift a Turtle too,
Thunder knew that what he heard
About Patience was all-true.

Now spirits being kin to him,
Showed him many things.
Like two crows that did appear,
Early that last spring.
One was stopped in mid air,
While mosquitoes covered it.
And the same was true
For the other crow,
Though in a nest, the Crow did sit.

Thunder watched and thought
That the crows would not survive,
With all that irritation,
Circling in two massive hives.
But then they disappeared,
And the crows, the crows had changed.

There was a transformation,
And the crows were not the same.
For they became lambs,
White as winter's snow.
And so he thought, that this must be
The way that change must go.

Wolf, Horse, and White Bear,
All had played their part,
Opening the pathways,
That lead back to the heart.
Hawk, and Changing Moon,
Spider with its loom,
Goatfish and Lioncat
Showed wisdom in his doom.

Now the woman who stole Thunder,
When She took her love away,
Could give it to another
On that very day.
For this was in her power,
Her power to survive.
So when Lightning came between her, she could leave with tears she'd cry.

Thunder learned many things,
While deep inside the earth.
One was how his Thunder
Had its place and worth.
He was tested like a precious stone,
In case there was a flaw.

And when his heart was full,
And His head was clear,
He was given the
White Bear's claw.

Then Fire Fly and Twinkly Star,
Knew this summer night.
Thunder was now ready,
With faith and new insight.
Patience, the goddess,
Called upon the Sea,
To bring around
Her daughter Mist,
Who Herself was just as free.
Thunder and Mist,
Then chose to both unite,
And together they made
Happy Rain,
To end 5000 years of blight.

After writing this poem I knew how myths were born, and how I could believe them if the poets were true to their experiences.

January 1996. The people who make my White bears come across an article showing a painting of a white bear and turtle joined together. It fascinates me that there are circles drawn around the bear's heart. It strikes me that someone else shared the same vision. Her name was given in the article with an address. I call her. Her name is Merielle Sioui and she is a Wendat from the Huron Nation in Quebec. I ask her about her painting and she tells me the white bear represents our star system, the Milky Way, and the turtle represents the earth. The circles around the bear's heart represents the power of love, and by joining them, shows how intimate that relationship is. I then tell her about my visions of the turtle and the white bear and share a recent poem called "Happy Rain". I explained everything in the poem was true except the last verse, which I hoped would come true. After reading the poem, we both laugh out of control. It was as if two people had just been brought together to have their purposes finally revealed.

We have many talks on the phone. Our lives run parallel in many respects. I tell her of the pipe I invented. Her husband, who died in 1983, was also a pipe maker.
I tell her of my visions of the crow. She reminds me that they are messengers. The next morning at daybreak I am woke by a crow. I think of her husband. I have a vision of Seven Crows. They head towards Canada. I know I am to go, and feel her husband is somehow bringing us together.

March 1996. I am invited to her reservation and travel to Canada bringing my pipe as a gift for Merielle. Seeing it, she says it is the new sacred peace pipe representing the new direction. Her son and brothers agree and tell me they would like to make them. It becomes a dream come true.
I return home. Merielle calls me to tell me of a dream her brother has of her husband. In the dream her husband hands him a big book. All the pages are blank except the two middle ones. There is a picture of a village around a special lake they know.

It is the last pristine one of it's kind. Their vision for this area has been to create a village around that lake, where aborigines from around the world could come and stay, to exchange ideas. Also for others who are walking the red road. This is their dream.

Her husband was reminding her brother of that in the dream.
It is also interesting that the spirit of that area they call the Bush, is the White Bear.

May 1996. Merielle tells me it's time to build my canoe. I ask her what she means. She tells me to meditate. Someone will come along to tell me.
She also said it was the day that all the medicine men opened their medicine bags in honor of the white buffalo that had recently been born on Pine Ridge.

A few hours later, I was visiting a friend where he works. His girl friend asks me how you can find out who your spirit guide might be. For the first time, I place my thumb between her eyebrows and ask her to close her eyes and see what animal or bird may appear. When she opens her eyes she says, I saw my dog. I say, maybe then it's the wolf. Her boyfriend then asks me to do the same, but not to program him. I say I'm not programming. He closes his eyes and I place my thumb between his eyebrows. When he opens his eyes, he says, "That's funny, what I saw was a birch tree that came down, and then it turned into this beautiful canoe. I had him repeat it again. Then I thought how connected Merielle was.

I told this story to another friend a few days later. She smiled and said I think I know where you're going to write your book. She said she was refinishing a guesthouse and it was on Canoe Carry Lane. We laugh.
A few days go by and I go to see the people who make my White Bears. I tell my friend Melanie, who makes them, the canoe story. She is smiling and says, "Danny I had a dream just last night and my husband and I were in a canoe. We were down at the ocean, near the shore. I see this big ship, the biggest ship I ever saw. I said to my husband, 'We are going to die when this big ship passes.' He says, 'Lie down in the canoe. So we both lie down in the canoe, and you know what? Not a ripple goes under our canoe."

A couple of weeks go by and I meet a woman they call the wolf lady. So I tell her the whole story of the canoes. She is glad I did, because she has one to tell me. She said it only happened a week or so ago when she was taking a walk through the woods to the river. As she was walking she could hear all these voices behind her. When she turned around to look, no one was there. When she got to the river, she stepped in and sat on a rock. Looking into the water, she sees what she first thought was a pack of wolves, but as she looked closer, it was buffalo, and lots of them. They were flowing by her, passing by the rock she was sitting on. Next, she hears a man's voice say, "They will never control me", and then right in the water, coming across, between the buffalo, is a man in his birch Canoe.
After telling me this story she went to her car and brought me an article out of the newspaper about the white buffalo born at Pine Ridge, and said, "Danny, I think you're supposed to go to Pine Ridge."

Build your canoe
Take it for a ride.
Stay on the fringes,
Let go step aside.
The big ship is filled,
To capacity,
But for those with canoe, they will still be free.
Wolf lady takes her walk,
Voices from behind.
Turns around no one's there,
Just trees so she finds.
Walks to the river,
Sits on a rock.
Buffalo flowing by,
As if it had been stalked.
She hears another voice,
Behind where she sits.
"They will never control me"
So final, that was it.
When there in the water,
A man in his canoe.
Flowing with the buffalo,
Down the river too.
Build your Canoe!

Summer 1996. I decide to travel light and begin the journey.

November 1996. The day before I am to begin my journey across the country, I have a flash. In it I see a big brown bear. When I look again, it is a white shaggy-haired goat. It is a young adult.
The very next day I share this last experience with a woman whom I didn't know. She tells me she is a Bahai, and the white shaggy-haired goat represents the messenger they are waiting to come. She also puts out a newsletter called The Goat. She asks me if it has horns, and I tell her no. (I sense the messenger is here, but still needs to mature. I also think it is a state of mind and evolution of spirit. I believe it is the Christ Perfection.)

April 1997. The Huron Wendat send me the newly finished Sacred Peace Pipe. A friend makes a pouch that will hold my bear and turtle. I join them together for the first time. (Mirielle's people are of the Turtle Clan.)
I take my Medicine stick and go to the mountain where I blessed the bears. Placing my stick in the middle of a circle, I turn it in all the directions, giving special thanksgiving to all involved. Before going up the mountain that day, six Hawks keep circling in front of me. I see that as a Blessing, and the right time to walk up that mountain.
I light the pipe and think about a simple message. ---Think a new direction, it’s not too late to turn ourselves around. My feeling is the pipe is what it wants to be. A sacred peace pipe.


THEE SACRIFICE

Who with eye should visit me?
Was it so that I might see?
For in that eye I knew to be,
Everything contained in Thee!
And who this lady, suede of face,
Silver-hair, arms of paste?
Living in a dark old place
Yet, light from her I still could trace.

What secret did she have to tell?
While I would judge this to be Hell?
But that is how I thought back then
So wrapped up in what I thought sin.
For when she waved and beckoned me
I ran the other way to flee.
Her food I thought (my ego fed)
And so I missed what she might have said.

And what about those dogs and cats,
Horses, wolves, who was that?
And the fish that gave birth to a goat,
Backing out from its throat?
The priest and priestly, devils, whores,
The old mans secret for their cures?
The voice that called out twice my name?
(It happened to my wife the same.)

The rapture many years ago,
That swept inside from head to toe?
A visit to the Weavers Field,
Made of Lambskin I could feel....
The hand that reached out from the sky,
The black turtle of giant size?
The flame that filled my belly through?
For seven days it burned like new.

Doors that were from left to right,
Till only one stands in my sight.
And what about these times of fate
When others do participate?
Ghosts that would run our stairs,
Two of which to a guest appeared?
And what about the goat that grew,
Shaggy hair, so white, so true?

And the white bear, and seven crows,
And the native woman this heart knows?
The prophecies that came quite true,
As those that wait perhaps might too?
And now these poems I sit and write?
I do it as,
THEE SACRIFICE.

October 15th, 1997. Vision of the Path. The symbol appeared in a flash, and the words immediately followed.

Insert picture

The path that's neither left, nor right,
Nor in the middle,
Is the one that circles all three.


JOURNEY FROM DARKNESS TO ILLUMINATIONS

November 15,1997. I meditate with a woman, 26. We met only a few days before, and only for a few hours. We knew we came together for a purpose. The meditation was extremely powerful. It involved Native energies. We used the Medicine stick, made for me back in 1992. It is important to know that the meditation was for us both, she being the one to receive the messages I also needed.

December 1997. Meditate again with the same woman. Again Native energies appear. A healing took place and I knew it would be the last time I would meditate with her. She had been set free.

FREEDOM ( Just before Freedom insert picture of Native woman holding up news paper)


Freedom is a fairy tale writ by many,
Known to few.

A spiders web, one chance in twenty,
Will escape its slanted view.

I contemplate the feelings of a man living off the trust of stolen goods.

And the spirits spoke....

YOU TOOK MY DIGNITY AWAY

You took my dignity away.
You took my women and children.
You made us dependent like you,
Now I eat fruit from a can,
You took my dignity away.

You took my dignity away.
You took the Buffalo, now the Fish.
You made me dependent like you,
Now I eat from one whose eyes I never saw.
You took our dignity away.

You took my dignity away.
You took my wild flowers and the grasses scent,
You made me dependent like you.
Now foul smells fill my nostrils.
You took my dignity away.

You took my dignity away.
You took my land like a thief.
You made me dependent like you,
Now I must pay to live
And move on the land once free.
You took my dignity away.

You took my dignity away.
You took voices from the trees and the winds song,
You made me dependent like you.
Now I listen to loud offensive noises, they are everywhere.
You took my dignity away.

You took my dignity away.
You even tried to take my religion,
To be dependent like you
On some God no one has connection with.
You took my dignity away.

You took my dignity away,
But like the Beaver, I too mutate,
And will, until the scent of sweet grass returns,
For my spirit patient stays,
Even though,
You took my dignity away. (Follow this with picture of mass grave at wounded knee)


Back in April of 1996, having dinner with Merielle, she told me she thought my job was to slay the Monster. She then told me the story of a monster that kept a village from sleeping. Several months later I asked her, "Where is this monster I'm supposed to slay?"
She replies, "Oh Danny, ---YOU are that Monster."
It took me another year or so to grasp the meaning, after which I wrote this Monsters Manifesto.

THOUGHTS
THE MONSTERS MANIFESTO

Distance speaks through candles, a cluttered table, and the envelope I write on. Today I saw it in vacant eyes; tonight, the moon, appearing at the end of clouds that funneled. A night without wind, smell, or sound,.... Just distance. Death seems friendlier,...closer, closer than this hand that just rubbed its forehead, or the smoke sucked from my pipe, or the leg crossed over the other; like my back hunched, or this heart I cannot feel beating. Hell must be this place, this distant place, where thoughts don't stop. Thoughts, one and the same, the same one that drives us, drives us to add another room to an already over sized house. Or another item on a crowded menu, to our shopping sprees for those extra clothes, and of course the toys, none of which we really need. Just thoughts introduced and carried out by the monster out of control. Thoughts, one and the same, that took the corner market to the supermarket to the mega market. The diner to fast food chains. It is the same collective obsessiveness shared by the megalomaniac, the rapist, the pariah, the lawmaker, the lawbreaker. It is the same energy, the same action. Thoughts consuming the thinker. Thoughts, reflections swimming through cartilage of bone called brain, like a chunk of coral that accepts the sea around it, without challenge, swinging with each tide. It is the same action from thoughts that permeate sleep, devouring the sleeper with anger, hate, jealousy, envy, fear and the like. It's the ism, the next cause, the next franchise, the next library. It computes, salutes, and shoots, It's the monster of the Dalis, Picassos,...we call it being prolific. But it's the one hundredth song, the one hundredth book, the one hundredth chip, the one hundredth Monkey. Starting locally it spreads regionally to nationally, till globally. It is a cancer, a fungus, a virus. Now it is spreading faster than a shadow when sweeping a landscape, as it does just before a cloud blocks the Sun. Neitche discovered it in Zarathustra, soon after which he went insane. T.S. Eliot in his Wasteland, though he continued to live like the bourgeois. Ezra Pound realized it in his final years with the knowledge he was a moron. Einstein, when envious of a plumbers life. And so it is, I finish "Thoughts Manifesto" and welcome putting this Monsters bones to rest.
May 11, 1998

DEATH OF THE MONSTER


....JUST DARK

Tonight I am on a dark road....In a dark place....In a dark town.
It's that very dark which no shadows trace,
Like; from some moon forgotten....just dark.
Just, that kind of dark not even dogs will test, by; howling.
No demons, no fairies, no music, no 'nothing'. Only 'dark'.
It's that dark one doesn't feel;
There’s no humidity, or dampness, or weight.
It has no voodoo or magic or; some mystical state.
No; witnesses, no philosophy, no communion, no; stage.
Just dark.... For dark.
It's not even empty; nothing sticks to it, nothing....
Only; ITS DARK.

June 21, 1998

THE HOLLOW DRUM

Some people paint in pictures.
Some people paint in verse.
Some people put up fences.
Some people put up words.

But when behind those walls I found
The hollow in the drum,
Something told me what lies there
Lies still in every one.

Lies still in every one it does
Lie still in every one. (CHORUS)
The sound that's really found inside, repeat twice
Lies still in every one.

I looked and saw confusion
When thoughts try to compete.
And when their noise became too loud
I listened to the beat.

And when behind those walls I found
The hollow in the drum,
Something told me what lies there
Lies still in everyone.
(CHORUS)
Now no matter how the drum is played
Or where the drum is brought.
I know there is a special place
Inside that has this spot.

Cause when behind those walls I found
The hollow in the drum,
Something told me what lies there
Lies still in every one.
(CHORUS)


ILLUMINATIONS

As related by Merielle Sioui,
Wendat, the Huron Nation
Quebec, Canada

January -May, 1996

In recounting these conversations with Merielle, I must point out the importance of each one of us to realize the parity, which comes from sharing our stories with one another. It is this cross-fertilization which brings us together. To help us think a new direction, and....to lay the monsters bones to rest.

From the Point of an Arrow

After Merielle had invited me to the reservation in April '96, in our phone conversation, I was trying to figure out how long it would take me to get there.
I asked Merrielle, "Merielle, have you ever been to New Hampshire?". She replied she had.
Then I asked, "Do you know where Mount Washington is?".
With an excitement and pleasant surprise, she said, "Yes, Danny".
I said, "Oh, that's great, because I live right near there. How long did it take from your reservation?"
With a sharp accented reply she said, "Oh, I don't know dat".
I say, "What do you mean, 'you don't know that’? Did it take you five hours, ten hours, twenty hours?"
She came back with this, "Danny, we don't travel like dat. When we leave we just go, when we get there, we just do!"
In my silence I was smiling, bobbing my head up and down. What she said struck me immediately, ...it felt so free and without control.
I think she knew her import, for when I finally said, "Oh, Merielle.", she gave her usual teasing laugh.
In another conversation with her in early May.

It was evening when during our conversation a moth flew up to my window.
I said, "Hey, Merielle, the first moth of the year just flew up to my window".
She asked, "Danny, what's a moth?".
And I said, "Come on Merielle-you know, it's those little bugs that fly up at night, to the light."
Quickly she responds, "Oh no, Danny, you mean an evening butterfly, and when you turn the light on, they see you in there and want to be near you, because they love you".
I felt my consciousness immediately raised and realized how we need such stories... because what I had been conditioned to understand was so suddenly turned up side down.

The last story I have to share, concerning faith, came perfectly at a time when I really needed it.

I was telling her about a porcupine I had seen while heading home that evening. I told her I had stopped my car and let it cross in front of me.
She said, "Oh, Danny, you are so lucky, .You're the luckiest man I know. Do you know what it means?"
I said, "No, tell me."
She said, "It means you will never have to go hungry."
And then she added, "Haven't you ever heard the story?'

"It was a very long time ago, a little boy about 5 years old was lost and in a cave, and was starving to death. A very wise old man knew this, and so he changed himself into a porcupine. He took a piece of bread with him and went into that cave to feed it to the boy, and he wanted everyone to know, from that day forward, if a porcupine should cross their paths, they too would never go hungry."
In the uncertainty I was living with, I was elated, and the story made me feel everything would be all right. Having faith that it would be so, made it so. I think of the story often, and it has proven itself ever since.

TRANSFORMATIONS


February 1998. A woman friend, dying of lung cancer, asks if we can meditate, using my Medicine stick. The right moment finally presents itself, and we get together. At the very end of the meditation she has a vision. She sees a white crow. I sense its Sacredness, then, thinking about the Crow vision I had that involved a transformation, I think....She has made hers, and it's time for her to move on.
(She dies April 19th)

This next poem has to do with the death of an ego.


LOVES ECHO

No NEVER must
Loves Echo meet,
Not here at least
Till death's complete.

And if the heart
Now sweeter beats,
Tis in not seeing
The seeing keeps.

And this is true
As God above,
With mortals who
So deeply love.

For never will
THAT FACE appear,
Though can be felt
With joyful tear.

For love remains
A mystery,
And so it must
For it to be.

For if the veil
That holds it fast,
Were just removed
It wouldn't last.

So if there's space
That waits between,
A love that temps one to be seen.
Let it be
Let it DO,
Like and echo....
Bounce off you.


SAMENESS

I found you only twice,
In my world that never stays the same.
And I've paid an awful price,
For I know I cannot play the game.

Sameness where are you?
Cause you're feeling what I'm feeling too.
Like the lion and the lamb,
I know that you understand.

Will we meet sometime soon?
Without words to share the moon.
Or stare within eyes,
Where lifetimes crystallize.

Sameness we both grew,
And these words I say for you.
I know I can't pretend,
So I wait like you again.

You know how it feels,
When night meets dawn.
You know how it feels,
When all resistance it is gone.

No cage will ever hold you,
Just air with lots of sky,
Till once again that special moment,
That waits for you and I.


SO WOULD I

If the moon had wings
It would leave the sky,
To come here below
To be by your side.
So would I.

If trees could walk
I know that they would,
To be closer to you,
That is, if they could.
So would I.

And if rivers and streams
Backwards could flow,
The ocean would follow,
Letting you know.
So would I.

And if birds could talk
In our own tongue,
They would say to you
That you are the one.
So, I try.

And our sun and stars
And planets above
Would shape into hearts
Beating with love.

And IF could change
As truly SHOULD
To what can be
Instead of could,
You would fly.

And, so would I.

THAT LOOK

And a day begins

As it left off

Sun rising

Moon crossed.

When night begins

What love begot

Memories pass,

In dreams lost.

"Ah for that look

That pleases eye

With Heart and Soul

That knows no lie."

"Ah for that LOOK".


THE FRAIL GOWN


When I meet that Love, so rare, excitement takes hold of me.
I can't control what I say, that controls my destiny.

Then I wait as one just lost, wanting to be found.
I wait with sorrows sister, attached to hopes frail gown.

I think about that gift of chance, and think of what could be.
But deep inside I feel the weight that controls what I can't see.

So left alone I wander, with shadows on a wall.
Waiting for that Love so rare with soul like mine to call.

And when with night, I know so well, we kiss the day goodbye.
I'll ask the God of yesterday to give us one more try.

For I have seen desires roots that surely makes the stem.
And saw the Rose already full, waving in the wind.

And like the sky with pregnant stars reaching down to earth.
I'll send this prayer reaching out, to help this Rose give birth.

For we know well the jealous wind that covers earth in green... But
Love This Love wants something more, though fragile it may seem.

It wants the birth that follows death when burying the seed,
The same that births a Universe with which the God is pleased.

For here again I've seen the Rose its petals white and pure,
And know inside two hearts they lie, with love that is for sure...

I kissed a birch tree with affection,
Now I know.... What it feels like!

OUT OF TIME


Let me ease those fears, you have right now,
Thinking of what might be.
I know you're looking for assurances,
Concerning you and me.

Cause this holding back by the both of us,
Is so plain to see.
As we try to control our destinies,
Before giving our love, out free.

Yes, we know the storm that waits the tide,
And the sails that must hold fast.
For the risk is to lose the whole damn ship,
In the waves that are surely to slap.

And the thought of being thrown overboard,
To drift alone at sea.
Is frightening to you, as I well know;
Because that thought is as frightening to me.

But Love can't be placed in a neat little box,
With a ribbon tied in a bow.
To be opened in twenty or thirty years,
With its contents arranged still just so.

But, to sit on a bench that is far from home,
For Love that left all behind.
Some stranger will know, for that Love has a glow,
And a distance that says, "This is mine"....
With a Love that has stepped out of time.


WAITING FOR THAT HAPPY RAIN TO COME

Oh! We're waiting for that Happy Rain to come,
That Happy Rain that comes from the Sun.
Cause the fires nearly out and it's time to end this drought,
We're waiting for that Happy Rain to come.

Those trumpets are sounding in the air,
Let go! Look up! Listen! It's playing everywhere!
Cause that Happy Rain is soon going to come,
That Happy Rain that comes from the Sun.

Men! Women! Hear what's in this song,
It's good news for us all! THIS Rain won't be long.
Cause that Happy Rain is soon going to come,
A Happy Rain freeing everyone.

Oh the fire that burns the bush will be tamed,
As this fire that wraps our hearts within its flames.
And once the fire is over, and only ashes remain,
Nothing! No Nothing! Will ever be the same.

See, the war's almost ending, with ashes piling high,
And underneath, wisdom, with a hearts' about to fly!

Cause that Happy Rain is soon going to come,
That Happy Rain that comes from the Sun.


Early June 1998. I have a vision of Two Pintos. They are standing side by side. They are unsaddled but have reigns attached to their bridle--- (waiting to be ridden). Those reigns loosely lying on the ground. The Pintos are the same in every aspect-equals-I know I will meet the one I will finish this journey with-we will ride together-side by side.

Early June, 1998. Use my medicine stick on the full Moon. Person I meditate with has many experiences occur-She started by seeing a full moon with a newborn baby in its center. Next she sees a pentagram with a five-point star within. After, many different animals appear.

Late June 1998. I have another vision. I see a tall pine tree at the end of a straight dirt road. I walk down this road with two other people. Hundreds of crows above the pine tree are flying around. They are excited and flying in no particular pattern. There is a nest at the top of the pine tree. A full sized crow sits in it. It is half-black and half-white. Extremely distinct and vibrant. I sensed that it is time for it to fly.

August 4, 1998. Begin my journey to Pine Ridge reservation in South Dakota. But my calling is to go to Texas first. I buy a one way plane ticket.

August 4, 1998. I arrive in Texas. Later that evening, meditate with a young woman where I had been invited to stay. She has brilliant geometric symbols appear.

August 5, 1998. Met the mother of the girl with whom I had meditated just the night before. It became clear that I had met the Pinto.
August 26, 1998. The journey continues and the two Pintos are now traveling together. Both making plans to take the new peace pipe along with the vision of the path to the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota.

CLAP MY HANDS

I want to be in love right in front of everybody.
I want it to grow stark naked---
Right out in Broad Daylight.
I want to laugh and cry and sigh
With all my heart.
And people can see
What happens to be,
When love holding on is strong.
And they can watch it build up
Like a huge common cup,
Proving love is an end in itself.
And with urgency speeding the blessing of the tribe,
Consummate fine love, grown with time.

This is a vision, like yours,
And desire will find
Everyone knows when that explosion occurs.

So with one silly grin, let the contagion begin
To inject the universe with patience, perseverance, and light.

And when I look at you,
And you look at me...,
Everyone will know

...It's just right.


Sherron
August 7, 1998


SHE SINGS THE MOUNTAIN

She sings the mountain, touching only what wind has known,
And feathered wing. She sings the mountain.

She sings the mountain, like a Mother does her child. Rising, falling,
Caressing; as if an ocean swell. She sings the mountain.

She sings the mountain, as one who's tender care the flower feels,
Her voice familiar as a shadow is to light. She sings the mountain.

She sings the mountain, Her sound being what rain is to a still pond.
Healing as it might a gasping fish. She sings the mountain.

She sings the mountain, Her hymn as Sacred as a soul mates kiss,
And humble as grass, where she sits. She sings the mountain.

She sings the mountain, Her audience more advanced than to applaud....shimmer,
As stars on a clear night. She sings the mountain.

She sings the mountain, and the mountain,
Says, thank you...thank you...
Thank you. You who sings the mountain. (Follow this with picture of people trees and then bear and turtle)


WHEN LOVE POURS DOWN LIKE NIAGARA

When love pours down like Niagara,
Into love that softens the fall,
In the spray that follows the mating,
Is something set aside for us all.

For that love is held in every raindrop,
Even snow, when it falls to the ground,
For that is the wedding of Angels,
And the spray is the silk of the gown.

And we all, share love's promise,
To be true, to be there till the end,
Like Niagara it's there to remind us,
Love is the spray that it sends.

It's our time; it's our place
To sing our song to leave our trace,
It’s our time.
You and I, it's our sky
It’s our earth; it's our tie,
It’s our time.
To the latest birth, and the oldest one,
To the moon above, and the daylight sun,
It’s our time.
To the new day, the New Year
The promise that, we all share,
It’s our time.

For love is held in every raindrop,
Even snow, when it falls to the ground,
For that is the wedding of Angels,
And the spray is the silk of the gown.

And we all, share love's promise,
To be true, to be there till the end,
Like Niagara it's there to remind us,
Love is the spray that it sends.

Love is the spray that it sends.


PART TWO: THE JOURNEY TO PINE RIDGE

Sept, 1998. Sherron and I work putting this book together (excluding this last chapter of course).

Tuesday, Oct. 14th. After several delays at the printers, 25 books are finally ready. I see these delays as my guide's way of making sure that I am not ten minutes too early, or ten minutes too late for whatever is supposed to transpire. It also reminds me that I'm not in control. Not that I ever was.

Having the book was necessary before making the journey to Pine Ridge. It was the last item needed before preparing a bundle that would include several other items. The book would help the one to receive the bundle, better to understand what this was all about.

Thursday, Oct. 16th. I am restless. Neither one of us has the financial means to make the trip and nothing opening up. So, like a spoiled child, and intending this for my guides, I say to Sherron, "Maybe I'm not supposed to make this trip, and so I'll just make it easy and mail it." I can remember someone back home suggesting I do that, and how cold it sounded, well, it still felt the same.

Saturday, Oct. 18th. Sherron prepares the sacred bundle. She uses a piece of cloth she had been saving for over fifteen years. She knew it had a special purpose. She cut a square of the fabric, then hand-sewed its edges. After, she placed the new peace pipe, a path pendant, a book and several other items carefully positioning them on the cloth, then carefully wrapped them.

Monday, Oct. 20th. Tell Sherron I just can't mail the bundle, that it just wouldn't be right. For the last two months I had been insisting that we had to make this trip together, it was part of the vision, and the vision involved two pintos that would make this journey, she being the other one. Now frustrated, I said that I would take my chances and hitchhike, and I would leave the by end of the week.


Tuesday, Oct. 21st. Sherron comes home for lunch and while sitting on the couch together she rests her head on my shoulder. Her eyes are shut. I start rubbing my finger between her eyebrows, hoping for a sign. Suddenly she exclaims, "I see a goose and it's really big. It's flying." I said, "I think it means to stick your neck out, take a chance." Later I asked her what color it was but she balked to answer, asking why I wanted to know. "Because I think those things are important." Suspicious, she said it was black.

Thursday, Oct. 23rd. Again Sherron comes home for lunch. She amazes me when she asks if I can be ready to leave for the reservation that night. Of course I said I could. She said after she got through work she would have a lot to do to prepare. We left near midnight.

Firday, Oct. 24th. After driving all night and day, we were nearing the South Dakota line from Nebraska when Sherron noticed a huge cloud right above our car. Once again in an excited way she says, "Daniel look at that cloud. It's a really big bird and it's black." We stopped the car to get out for a better look. Sure enough it had the perfect shape of a bird, from its wings to its tail, including an eye. The bird cloud kept pace with us as we drove along, on an otherwise beautiful clear night.

Friday, Oct. 24th. Near nine that night we arrive in South Dakota, and instead of driving to Wounded Knee as I had hoped, we decided to pull over and find a safe place where we would sleep in the car. We found a dirt road on our right and drove in about a quarter mile to another dirt road on our right. We thought it looked like a good place to stop. At the entrance to the road was a wood sign, so we back up to shine our car lights on it. We both just laughed when on the center of the sign was an image of a big goose, and yes, it was flying! With that, we knew we were in the right place. Later during the night that cloud caught up with us. And, although it was still clear with brilliant stars all around, it sprinkled. It was a "Happy Rain."

Saturday, Oct. 25th. We got ourselves up at daybreak, and after having a great breakfast in a local restaurant, we headed straight to Wounded Knee. The day went incredibly smooth, making all the right connections. Later that evening around the same time and at the same place where we first noticed the bird cloud, a meteor flew right in front of us. It had a beautiful shaped white cone followed by a very long white tail. Then suddenly it exploded into two or three sections, each section turning an exquisite color of turquoise. We were just awed by its beauty.

Sunday, Oct. 26. Arrive home around one that night. After turning in the driveway and shutting the car off, I just smiled from way deep inside. In fact we both looked at each other and without a word said, just knew, what the other was thinking. During the ride back from Pine Ridge, Sherron confessed she knew all along she would make the trip. She's like that. I'm just glad she did.

October 25, 1998. Wounded Knee, Pine Ridge Reservation, South Dakota

We wish to thank Matthew Z. Bear Shield, Pearl White Dress
And Jerry Bear Shield

Our visit was unexpected and brief, and we are honored and grateful that you let us come into your home to receive the gift we came with.

We also want to thank Jeremy, who sits at the crossroad at Wounded Knee for directing us to you. This young man is bright and knowledgeable of his heritage, a good representative for those who come to Wounded Knee.

Our intention was to acknowledge in the present, with great respect for the past, the signs we are given along the way that indicate there is hope for the future of us all in the fortitude, wisdom, generosity and courage you carry with you.

Looking back, it is evident we left with more than we expected and so we dedicate these two poems to the source from which they came.

WOUNDED KNEE
Oct. 30th, 1998, D.C.

Willows in a valley
With a stream running there,
With the smell of sweet grass
That hangs in the air.

And white clay to walk on
Where time doesn't care,
As its people, who live,
With Souls running bare.

AND the catcher of dreams
The Monster has kept,
Away from this place
Where many have wept.

For the Spirit's alert
As surely sun sets
To awaken stars
Till daylight is met.

And their dream lives on.

Like wind and rain
That passes the field,
There's something inside
Alive you can feel.

Whose silence shatters
The civilized shield,
As love will the heart
When it knows that it's real.

Let the dream live on.

Let the smoke from sage
Rise over peaks,
For the Buffalo's White
Are trying to speak.

Let the Goose and Crow
Every relative know,
You're the seed from the field
From the blood where it flowed.

With the Beaver, the Turtle
The Elk you are ONE,
You're the Eagle that sees
What the foolish have done.

The Porcupine feeds you
You know this is true!
Be free like the breeze
It is long overdue.

Rise like the spark
That is seen in your eyes,
Look through the dark
Like the Owl that's wise.

And just as new light
Comes with each dawn,
Ride again ride
Let the dream live on,
Ride again ride
And let the dream, live on.

Daniel

Faith is not a given. It is finding ways to support the evidence of things unseen. And that is how a dream becomes reality within the illusion.

The smoking bear rises into its image…
Presentiment moves into now.
The work becomes the art
As the movie makes it own vow.

And we rise to the occasion.

The soil comes up to the root.
And the grass grows up to provide.
The clay offers to shapen
And the Buffalo gives up to the hide.

And we rise to the occasion.

The sun comes up to greet us,
And the moon comes out in balance.
The earth still dances with stars
Reflecting our souls challenge.

And we rise to the occasion.

Sherron

Image of pipe, necklace -
Text which follows is printed atop image in black text, white text:

HURON - WENDAT ANONDAHOIN, 1996

De la Paix / Peace Pipe

Peace Pipe

Sacred pipe - The Turtle Island's Aboriginal Guardians, sharing a same vision of the universe, thinking of a new direction, lighting the fire from the bottom, giving thanks in all directions.

Text which follows is printed below image in black text:

It is time to turn ourselves around, to hold the pipe in a new sense of justice, peace and freedom to love our every living Turtle Island. ………(After this show picture of White Buffalo)

PART THREE


Crying Out Loud

I'm crying out loud, crying out loud
Crying just as fast as I can.
I'm crying out loud, crying out loud
Crying cause I just can't understand.

Why we're going so fast going so fast
Going just as fast as we can.
So I'm crying out loud, crying out loud
Crying just for someplace to stand.

It's like: we’re trying to say don't get in our way
Cause we got these important things to do.
So I'm crying out loud, crying out loud
Crying out loud for me and you.

See the brakes are off some enjoying the thrill
While others suffer and bleed.
Don't think it will stop till the bottom it drops
Like tears awaken true needs.

And I'm crying out loud, crying out loud
Crying just as fast as I can.
I'm crying out loud, crying out loud
Crying just for someplace to stand.

For Now

Now is where I am, now is where you are,
For now.
Distance is a platinum shade, a filter holding light,
Bouncing its own images forever
Changing night. Reflections of a tear that says,
"I remember, I remember, I remember,
For now.”


It Is Saved

It is saved that tear once thought forgotten,
It flows with the river now,
Winding its way around tree stumps.

Held in hands its contents is revealed
Like one when looking into a crystal ball,
It's all there.

Like the flesh and bones and blood
That makes the earth feel the way it does.
When sifting through our fingers.

Liquid Love

My heart is filled with liquid thought,
And beating that I cannot stop.
A line if clearly drawn through sand,
Its walls we know will never stand.

A million miles the Camel walked,
And right beside the Lion stalked.
Until when night turned to day,
A Lamb was found along the way.
And now with shades once more drawn,
These words are flung against the dawn.
And what they do or where they fall,
The heart still beats above them all.
And will, and will, and will it must,
Pass on to us its only trust.
A trust that you and I both know,
Has not betrayals shallow woe.

For eager are these lips to pass,
This thought once more now beating fast.
This, OH THIS this bleating of,
That which is which is above,
Liquid love; liquid love.

Liking What I Do

I make my living liking what I do-
How bout you?
I make my living liking what I do -
How bout you?

I make my living every day doing things
So I can say,
I make my living liking what I do-
How bout you?

Sometimes it's in the morning,
Sometimes the afternoon,
Sometimes it's in the evening,
Or staying up with the moon.

It doesn't matter where I am
I do it just the same,
Whether sun is shining
Or pouring down with rain.

It doesn't matter who I'm with
Or if I'm all alone.
And what I do I do with pride
Something I can own.

And when it's time to finally sleep,
That time work is through,
I feel a kind of peace inside
Cause I'm liking what I do.

How bout you? How bout you?
Do you make your living?
Liking what you do
Like I do too.

Do you make your living every day?
Doing things so you can say,
I make my living liking what I do,
How bout you?

Is It Good

It is good to be in dungarees again,
It is good to feel cotton on my skin.
It is good to feel once more alive,
And not, only, to survive.
It is good to be in dungarees again.

It is good, it is good,
It is really, really good.

It is good to have nothing to hide,
It is good to feel peace inside.
It is good to feel each mood of wind,
And let the tides not pretend,
It is good to be in dungarees again.

It is good, it is good,
It is really, really good.

It is good to feel really free,
And let all things, let them be.
Not asking Hawk to behave like Crow,
Or Bear to be like a Buffalo.

It is good, it is good.
It is really, really good.

It is good to feel a poem begin,
And see its point when it ends,
It is good, it is good,
It is really really good.

It is good to be in dungarees again, again
It is good to feel cotton on my skin.

Thee Afterward

THE WAR OF THE TREES

I sit in magnificent silence,
With nature trying to retrieve.
The war of the trees for now over,
Where many a comrade now bleeds.

Birch against Maple, Maple against Pine,
Pine against Poplar, war without lines.
Shields made of stainless, diamonds in ice,
Bodies of anguish, lain over thrice.

The weight of their armor,
Too much for their racks,
Exploding within,
And snapping their backs.

Ice that shatters like broken glass,
A shower of crystals adds to the mass.
Sapphires and rubies, topaz and quartz,
An illusion of beauty in frozen tear drops.

The war of the trees their pain I can feel,
A Partridge who saw me makes it all real.
And there right above, clouds passing through
Sun in-between sky that is blue.


It's The Perfect Storm

It's the perfect storm in the perfect place
Rising to that pinnacle one day we all face.
It's in the winds that blow; it's in the desert sands.
It's in an ocean 'round us, held in nature's hands.

And a hero finds something deep inside,
Something, someplace, some of us deny.
And they reach on out, using perfect form,
Reaching someplace higher so we can carry on.
It's the perfect storm.

And we may ask this question, where are you tonight?
Where is that courage? Why do I lose sight?
When perfect life meets perfect death,
Why do I feel such a loss? Why do I forget?
When love is torn to pieces like a ship tossed at sea
When I know it is for certain an act of destiny.
Why do I cry for you? Why do I cry for THEE?
Is it not that perfect storm rising up in me?

It's the perfect storm.


NEVER STILL

When feelings can't express,
What only can be felt.
When what is felt can not be expressed.
Then nothing can be said, except might this...
"Know you're not alone, nor is it missed."
When pain and suffering makes no compromise,
Or bliss or wonder takes us by surprise,
Know all's true to help us realize...
We're not alone, never will,
Never never, never still.


When The Honey's Gone

When the honey's gone
You will know it is time
To search for those flowers
That hold its gold.

For when the honey's gone
It's time to move on
In order for purpose
Once more to unfold....

When the honey's gone.

More Stuff

Eyes For The Rainbow

Jan 1999. Leave Texas for San Francisco…Take the bus…I have thirteen dollars to my name. Stay with a
Friend who is recording lyrics of mine. I’m there for one week. He buys me a round trip ticket to NH.

Jan 1999. Second week, meet up with my friend Jamie. He allows me to stay in his photo studio…I stay there for the rest of the winter…Arriving at his studio I find out he was at Wounded Knee two weeks after Sherron and I had been there…He took pictures, and was setting up a show at his studio, its showing being that of the Pine Ridge Reservation….while he was there he saw my white bear hanging just above the White Buffalo at Poka Joes. Later he allowed me to use a couple of pictures for this book…

March 1999. Place my thumb between eyebrows of a woman I had met in an Indian gift shop. She sees a White Buffalo…

May 1999. A friend gives me a car; it is a 1990 Nissan…It would and still is, as of this writing be my home. When people ask me where I live, I tell them I live at the hotel Nissan. It has dents and cracks like an elder’s face.

May 1999. Meet a woman who is a Christian Scientist. We become friends. She has an affinity to all of Gods creatures big and small. Tells me a story that took place many years ago when she was in art school. She was living in Boston at the time. Well, in her apartment she like everyone else in that neighborhood was infested with cock roaches, but instead of the usual spraying to get rid of them, she started to feed them in a designated area. She said it didn’t take long for them to catch on that that was their place to eat, and so they not only looked forward to their feeding each night, but also respected her by not trying to find food in other areas of her apartment. I thought, now that's really the coolest story I've ever heard.

She also explained she had always had this gift to be one with the animals or birds or whatever. She would say, “ They know what you’re thinking. “ Then she gave me an example, such as, one time while she was sitting at home thinking about taking a walk with her dogs in the woods, her dogs immediately came over to her, wagging their tales, then, when she opened the door to go for the walk, there was a crow right outside her door, who also read her thought. Well, wouldn’t you know they all spent the day together, and at times the dogs and the crow would separate, only to join up again with her later. This they kept repeating the whole day.

We also meditated together, what she sees first is Mickey and Mini Mouse. Then little sea turtles scrambling towards the ocean. Then a gathering of Native American men, after which they formed a line and one at a time, began lifting off the earth turning for a short time into Eagles. Then each dispersed among the constellation known as the Bear. Her sense was that the gathering of these Native Americans was their becoming aware of the importance in what their lives represented, that is, what they stood for, and as each became aware of that, they dispersed among the stars aware of their infinity.

Just before I was to start on my journey this same woman friend gave me two toy mice to keep on my dashboard. They were to remind me of a story I had told her about a mouse that through faith courage and sacrifice was to become an Eagle.

May 1999. Meditate with a friend, again I press my thumb between the brows, after she opens her eyes she starts telling me what she saw. She had never had such an experience… She described seeing a feather standing upright, it is white at the bottom, the rest being black. (A few days later, someone told me it was a young Golden Eagle’s feather.) Beside the feather is a ball of extreme white light. Next she sees an old man, as well as a big old tree with no leaves. Then a hand appears, it is facing her, open, it is smooth without the slightest of marks…

June, first week or so. Meditate with a person upon first meeting her. (I always get a strong gut feeling that tells me it’s the right person and the right time to do this sort of thing) When she opens her eyes she proceeds to tell me what she saw. First there were two Dolphins swimming in an ocean. Then one of them becomes like a curtain as it separates in two. What she sees looking in is a little girl’s legs kicking and splashing the water below where she is obviously sitting. Next she sees an old woman, and an old tree. Then a hand appears facing her; it is all smooth except for what she thinks is an eye in the middle of the palm.

June 18th 1999. Begin another journey to Wounded Knee at pine Ridge to attend the Sun Dance I had been invited to back in October 1998. I had since talked to Pearl White dress by phone, and she said I could set up my tent on their property, where the dance was to be held.

June twentieth 1999. Arrive at Pine Ridge. It is late Sunday afternoon; I had been driving day and night covering 2000 miles. Slept in my car next to the medicine mans place. Have an out of body experience; think the medicine man and others are checking me out. They are looking in my car; it’s all astral of coarse.

June 22nd 1999. Was asked to do a sweat, with several Lakotas. The one who approached me said it was the medicine man’s idea and that he must have seen something special in me because it was an honor. Well I couldn’t refuse, and agreed. Just before going into the sweat lodge the one who asked me said, “ Everything will be all right, just as long as you pray from the heart. Those prayers will be heard by Tunkaslia, and He will keep you cool “. With that we entered the Lodge, the several Lakotas, and the Yaqi who had asked me for the medicine man. Once inside rocks, seven of them were past in one at a time. They were extremely hot. Each time one was past in the Yaqi who was presiding would sprinkle some cedar on it; the small area was quickly permeated with its fragrance, also filling my body.

This was all new to me, never having done a sweat before. I am also claustrophobic and being in such a confined area, my paranoia began to take over. After the Yaqi gave thanks for the honor of presiding, each of the Lakotas also gave thanks; I also did the same. Then the yaqi gave the signal to the person standing outside the lodge to close the flap. Suddenly it was pitch black when I heard the first splash of water hit the rocks. With that came a wave of heat that was like a blow furnace. The Lakota then started to sing in what I can only describe as a high pitched walling. I know it was something I had never heard before, right then I thought, what the hell am I doing here, I began to think that I was going to end up being some sort of sacrifice or something.

For me the heat was unbearable, and not knowing how long this would last I start to panic. The singing was continuous and I knew they were offering prayers from as deep as it gets. So I kept saying over and over, whatever their prayers let them be mine too, just cool me down. Well my request didn’t work, and so I said “ Hey I’ve got to get out of here, but no one heard me, the walling was so loud. Finally the Lakota next to me said “ Hang in there it’s almost over”. Then the Yaqi yelled something in Lakota, and the flap was raised. I was the first out you can bet on that, and quickly made it for my car. I had some water in my trunk; I staggered over to it and kept pouring the water down over my head trying to cool down. It took five minutes or so to get my composure back.

I finally walked back to the sweat lodge. The Natives were just entering again, when I popped my head in and said ‘ Guys thanks for having me but I’m not worthy to be in there with you. With that I drove down to where the medicine man lives and met his wife Pearl White Dress. I told her and her husband what had happened, and that I thought it was a sign that I wasn’t supposed to be there. Pearl kept saying that tomorrow they were going to select the tree and that all the ceremonies were about to begin. But I insisted that I wasn’t supposed to be there, and quickly left.

On the way I stopped to say good bye to another Native I had been sharing stories with and told him of my decision. He thought I should stay, but my mind was made up. Earlier I had told him of a vision I had had that involved two horses and a pair of wolves. I had been climbing a mountain when I heard these two wolves, a male and a female who were waiting on the top, and although I couldn’t see them I knew they were there. They frightened me and so I started to head down the mountain when two horses came charging up after me. I knew they wanted me to turn around and go to the top of that mountain and face the wolves. Well any way my Native friend knowing that story said he had something for me, and then gave me what looked like a dream catcher but was instead a spirit horse he had painted in the middle on a piece of leather instead of the usual webbing. Any way he wished me well but thought that I should stay.

So I left, I was into Nebraska when I thought, “what the hell am I doing, I came all this way and now I’m running away”. Looking at the spirit horse and remembering my vision, I thought of what I said of not being worthy, and as I pondered that (It was now daybreak) I said screw that I’m going back, and so I did. They received me with smiles and asked if I would be the Fire Keeper, which I accepted, this too being an honor. On the third night a storm came in and at one thirty that morning when the storm broke a rainbow arched across the sky. What a gift! I knew right then and there that I was the eyes for that rainbow. The Sun Dance itself is a private affair so I will honor them, the Lakota, and not disclose what happens, except that it is very special, and very sacred.

This might be good place to share with you about an incident which I think reflects what separates traditional native people from people like me. This story is about Pearl White Dress. I was slowly making my way down a narrow dirt driveway that passes Pearls' and her husband's house. I was driving towards a field just beyond their house, which would lead to another field where the sundance was to be held. Pearl was standing just outside her house as I was about to pass by. She had her usual smile on and I was about to stop when my door flung open and slammed into the upper part of her leg, and I mean it slammed really hard. Pearl didn't even budge and she still had a smile on her face. I said, "Pearl, are you alright?" And she said, "Yes, I'm okay." I said, "But that's going to leave you with a severe black and blue." and she said, "I know, it happens all the time." She then trailed the end of that sentence with a polite laugh. Now remeber, Pearl is an elderly woman who limps around. Then I thought about how I would have reacted, given the same situation, beleive me, it wouldn't have been without complaint. It was then that I knew how detatched she was from the body, so tolerant so humble and how dignifed THAT is.

June, near the end. After being invited back to the reservation, I left for Texas. Texas has had a strong draw for me. The woman Sherron, I had met, and known as the Pinto, is still my good friend even though we are no longer traveling together. But still Texas as I have said, has a strong draw.

August 1999. Finally the reason for the draw to Texas (At least one major one) is answered. I had been drawn to a local bookstore night after night. And whenever I peruse a bookstore I look for Celtic information in hopes of finding out whom that Green Eyed Goddess was that appeared to me back in 1994. Well this one-day after a bit of a depressing time for me with sleeping in my car in the Texas heat and all. I write a poem that goes like this, “Shadows under table and chairs provoke images, imaginary, sounds of flutes do the same- my purpose, my freedom, a deception, a mirage, a fruitless path, a desert- life meaningless no matter the prayer. A rock cannot turn itself into a tree, though a tree can become a rock.”

Well, that prayer was heard, for that very evening while sitting in the parking lot in front of the bookstore, and in kind of a reluctant mood, decided to go in any way. But instead of going to my usual locations, I was drawn to the section on Religion. I grab the first book off one of the shelves. The title catches my interest, “ Wisdom of the Celtic Saints “ by Edward C. Sellner. So I sit down to read, when there half way through I come across the name of the woman who appeared to me that July in 1994. Now I will quote from the book. (Her name is Saint Brigit” Brigit, a deity of wisdom, poetry, fire, and the hearth. A patron of healing. She is known for many leadership traits: PATIENCE, and most of all Compassion, this the basis of her spiritual power and of her ministry, as a SOUL friend”… Well that blew me away. She lived sometime during 500 AD, and she still is around even today. When I read her traits and especially the Patience and Soul friend part, I just knew it was Her, and also why I confused her with being my soul mate. You might want to go back in this book to refresh your memory, the dates are June July 1994 and Oct November 1994.

Later during the night, in vision, I had this realization, one that separated the “I” from the “Me”. I was holding my medicine stick and was sending healing thoughts to a lady friend whom is dying of cancer,
When with deep compassionate thought the stick became pliable forming a beautiful arch, much like that rainbow I had seen. It was then I felt elation and sensed my purpose. It seemed that the fear that was holding me back was gone. I had given up control, and at that point was able to step outside myself.

The latest experience took place the next day, when I was in a restaurant I frequent in San Marcos Texas.
I owed a girl a favor that was working that day, so I called her over and asked her to open her hand and face her palm up. I then placed my hand about a quarter of an inch above it. I already knew that her dream was to sing, so I closed my eyes and prayed to the one who does all healing. There was an intense heat between our palms. After a few minutes I took my hand away, and she was excited to tell me that the heat from our hands had entered inside her, and, she pointing towards her voice box, said it stayed right here the whole time. I just smiled.


Well that’s all for now… The journey of these Connections that come after the fact, continues….Daniel.

PS, I hope in some way these connections will also be helpful to you too. (Concerning doubt)

The Afterward

Young fish swim through yellow tubes and winding green.

A meandering of thoughts bubbling above and below,

Unknowingly the earth is shaking.

I held you so tight my arms began to ache. I knew it to be the last time, and I wanted to let this happen because no one will hold you as tight as I did. Why you thought you needed someone else one day you will have to figure out. You must remember those times we laughed and cried, like when we rolled around on the grass stuffing strawberries into each other’s mouths until they dripped down our chins staining our shirt tops…I remember, for we climbed a mountain that day, and made love in front of the flowers that blew softly in the wind; touching our bodies. So, good by my darling, maybe you will find another who will hold you as tight, as I know I did…

A bird and a beetle, a woman’s first tears.
The beetle gets eaten, the girl she appears.
She thinks…Insanity, as if she’d been shown.
Seeing life, she thinks of her own.
It’s just for a moment, moments just are,
The bird flies away, her tears become stars.
It’s just for a moment, such moments that try,
That brings us together; so we… can all fly…

When The Sky Turns To Gold

When the sky turns to gold
Every dreamer’s dream it holds,
Where lifetimes are seen clearly written.

When the life that we led
Humbly raises its head,
It’s the heart that reflects from the eye.

And the waves can be seen
With a touch of the green,
From mountains of love derived.

It’s the poem in its prime
A history of time,
A time when the waters are still.

And the groom with his bride
Are together in stride,
As day embraces the night.

It’s the pigment, the skin,
Of the world we are in
Where wrong for a moment is right.

It’s the glory, the worth,
The clay now at birth,
Never to feel the old.

It’s the dream; it’s the sheen,
Pure love clearly seen,
When the sky, turns to gold.


I Belong

I like the breeze through my toes, flowers for my nose,
Dancing round a fire with moon.
I like things that are real, things I can feel,
Even singing when I’m out of tune.

I like daytimes, night times, any times the right time
For whatever comes along,
For when it does, I feel it because
Life tells me that I belong.

It’s a sidewalk to sit, lips fresh to kiss,
Simple as things like that.
Things that are real, things I can feel
Like my friend who weaves her own hats.

I like doing my wash in a sink by hand,
Touching the clothes I wear.
And fence for a line, a tree or a vine,
And a dryer a thing called air.

I like making things to give away,
To people some I don’t know.
Cause when I do, I feel what is true
And real is not a word just to say.

It’s a child I watched giggling with joy,
Playing with two dogs as friends.
When they’d chase him down, he’d fall to the ground,
And his laugh any heart would bend.

He’d go back for more in their game of tag,
A tot still under three,
And again under chase, a tag would be placed,
And his freedom touched the real in me.

It’s saying I love you and meaning it,
Even though it’s someone just met,
I love you, I love you, I…LOVE…YOU!
From the heart when its candle is lit.

And it’s daytimes, night times, any times the right time
For whatever comes along.
For when it does I feel it because, life tells me that I belong,
And it’s simple like the words in this song! OH YA…


THAT LOOK

Why do you look the way that you do?
Why do you look with that look that is true?
Is it to say it’s something you knew?
Cause it looks like you’re saying
I’ve been waiting for you; I’ve been waiting for you.

Look at me look at me, what do you see?
Is it the same coming from me?
That one in a million a trillion or three,
Is it the same look that says it can be?

It’s happened now twice, twice in a row,
That look was still there, that something you know.
Maybe it’s from another past, this something that makes
The heart beat so fast…

Else why do you look the way that you do?
Why do you look with that look that is true?
Isn’t it to say it’s something you knew?
Cause that look it says I’ve been waiting for you,
I’ve been waiting for you
I’ve been waiting for you
I’ve been waiting for YOU…

THE GIFT

…..You are gorgeous, beautiful, sexy, desirable and intelligent.
You remind me of a Parfait; and, strawberries and chocolate, and, my favorite dream…You are the lioness, a mystery the Nile Queen…You sit between Bridgit, and Kali….The air is your crown, the earth your vestment. The rose and the Tulip tree follow your every move, and the moon turns crimson, every time you let a lover hold you in his arms….Every animal bows to you, (most just quiver like an excited star ) just glad to have you near. The sparkle seen in your eyes is from the dew of the morning Lilly, and the fragrance that comes from your breath is the fountain of youth for those lucky enough to inhale it….And so it is with such frail command that I speak of you; for now, and forever yours…Daniel

The Poem That Waits

The Poem that waits is already written my friend.
It waits with patience, for it was written long before you were born,
Yet it was written for you to find.

It waits like a tree does wind to shake its branch,
Or a dry river bed; rain, or a mother pregnant with child,
And the father; at its birth.

The poem that waits is already written my friend.
It waits more obvious than sky, or Braille, to touch.
It waits where every great poem was, and is.
Like every great work of art, already finished
Before the artist comes along…The owl that hoots, attests.
So does the cat, the mouse, or the horse that stands in a field
That; raise its head.
It waits like a familiar scent from youth, found in adult years.
It waits like the moon, full, or the sun that always shines.
It waits through chaos, confusion, like a still pool of water.
It is the gem found in a cave when given light; just like you one day to find.
The poem that waits is already written my friend, it waits; for YOU… The Afterward

It is not because of memory I shall serve,
For memory has no place to fix;
To call its own.


Sex screams
Like a Mother wild.

Sex screams
Like earth defiled.

Sex screams
Like debts piled.

Sex screams
At death like child.

Sex screams.


Enjoy your movie
God’s directing it.

And the wind blows,
While another wraps itself around
Like a frozen wall of air.
While the flower posed alone,
Stands the mountain.


Moose and Mouse
Two extremes,
A mountain road
Slipped between
Thoughts cascade
As stream
Surrounded by
Forest green.

The poet posed naked,
Read his poems.
The artists, drew
His nakedness.

August 9th 2000 Dream vision, A wise old woman appears. She hands me this old wooden box. It is very narrow, maybe 12inches across. It stands about three feet high. It has a door; she opens it. There on the back wall of the box are seven pairs of eye glasses. They are lined up one on top of the other maybe an inch apart. Each pair has a different magnification…


If a poem should save one persons life, or help one moment filled with strife.
Then let it be for all to read, for want of placing such a seed.
For such it is when all depress they find some comfort to digress
Inhaling words that help the breath, breathe new life exhaling death.

They say

They say, night turns to day
And sun overcomes clouds
And birds sing tunes of joy
Straight to inflated hearts.

They say warm heals bones
Aching from cold,
That all one needs is patience,
So their story goes.

But what they say are only words
Words they will defend.
But what they say and what I know
Is nothing more than them;

That’s what I say.

If I could remember where pencils or pens,
Or pockets where matches or keys are in.
I’d stand like the Buddha’s right beside them,
Just as enlightened, as soon as I can.

In The Face Of Doubt

In the face of doubt I see myself; and, what I see is someone else, who does reside.
Pain from hunger holds it fast, till body fed, will it pass, and so it is, that I will ask,
What have I done to make it last?

For in that blindness I feel old rejections take me, and they hold, and all my work seems rather cold; a fiction like my very Soul.

A wanderer in a world secure, not knowing anything for sure, not even if my end will cure, instead I think it would endure.

Selfishness, say’s “ Here I am. “ Compassion has no place to stand, a fungus in the very land, like trees that dwarf what trees they can.

Memories pour into the cup of water that I now must supp, remembering how all efforts tried, reached an end where they all died. (Like; dreams that do distort the eye, not seeing moments how they tied.)

Then…just as chin to touch the ground, someone comes (as sent), and feeds me till I am found, and night falls, all’s spent (and too the whorey hounds) and again the dream’s renewed, I know to which I’m bound…

She Is

She is a man-eater, a senorita,
The one who falls for a rose.
She is a woman’s best friend, a lover who’s been,
She is the woman a man never knows.

She is the mother, the wife, the sparkle in life,
Her senses she wears like stripes.
She is mean, she is cream, she is one never seen,
She is hidden in her blood sacrifice.

She is the tear’s that are wept, the smile that has kept,
The one who brings light to dawn.
Guilt is not hers, with sex she just purrs,
Then scratches its name to move on.

She is a woman no less, a seed at its best,
The kernel, the stalk, she is corn.
She is what she is, a test, she’s the quiz,
She’s memory, she’s water, she is song.


Credits

Merielle Sioui
Stories of Porcupine and not living in time. The Snakes history. Butterfly not moth.

Hope Price…Fall of 1999, while meditating together she saw a purple light. I then, let her wear my bear tooth, then in vision (Dream) three men appeared to her, one being an Elder offering her a snake, then pulling it back telling her she was not ready to receive it YET…I felt this was a message for us all…The snake represents the wisdom coupled with ancient knowledge, and the keeper of past life memories according to the Huron…

Jessica Day…Fall of 1999, while meditating with her by the San Marcos river, Texas
In vision she saw a horse with an eagle flying by its side.

Sharron Martin
The woman who wrote the letter, which I have the President read.

Dr Janice Coffey
Had a real life experience while in Alaska, when she was approached by three tall men…One told her that “God IS”…Then they took her into the center of the earth showing her their crystal city and how the crystals were changing colors from all our polluting.

Susan Everett
In vision saw the turtles rise up, taking their place among the stars, just as she also witness the native American men doing the same thing…

Sandy Calistro- Vision
Hand opened without markings, also old tree and young Eagle feather

Gerardo Larsen- Painting of hand and snake behind President.

Louis Braveheart- Man I spoke my visions and others through…Calling him One Who Stands Tall. He was told in vision to pierce himself at Sun Dances…He is a holy man. One deserving of this honor by White Buffalo Calf Woman.

Zac Bear Shield- Medicine Man at Wounded Knee, also Medicine Man in my story.

Pearl White Dress..Medicine Man’s wife

Emerson Elk

George Red Star

Trish Bear Eagle…I call her Trish Little Bird in the story..

Even If They Were Only Clouds

Today I saw Two Eagles Fly….


Against The Womb (Include Gerardo’s abstract drawing)

I sit where I’ve sat so many times before,
With face pressed against the womb of the universe, unsure.

But like a dream that fades away when daylight comes to rise,
I’ll put behind what fears I have and face whatever lies.

For nothing is, as it appears though try it may defend,
For life is death and death is life on this I must depend.

And so this chord that tempts me now I’ll swiftly cut with blade,
To press my face against this womb with constant pressure… laid.

A man sat patiently trying to revive an injured Canary like bird.
Slowly it came around….After a few chirps it flew to a nearby tree.
Suddenly a Grackle attacked the bird. The little bird then dropped
From the limb to the ground, another Grackle attacked, puncturing
Its head and neck; finishing it off. It was done quickly and cleanly.
The Grackles then left, and the man KNEW, there was NOTHING to FIX.


The day after Christmas 2000. While looking through a book of petroglyphs, in one of the local book stores, published in this same year, I came across one which was credited to the Anasazi, sometime around 1200AD, it was a perfect Path Symbol…

I can feel you in my belly I can feel you in my toes,
And my belly feels like jelly and it’s doing belly rolls.
And if you’re feeling what I’m feeling like I’m feeling too,
Then maybe it’s our jelly bellies saying I love you.

I’ve got a jelly belly feeling, it’s a jelly belly feeling,
I’ve got this jelly belly feeling a jelly belly feeling, (Chorus)
And it’s all because of you.

Now this jelly’s really special as far as jellies go
Cause this jelly tells my belly and my belly jelly knows,
And if you’re feeling what I’m feeling like I’m feeling too,
Then maybe it’s our jelly bellies saying I love you.


Chorus

See I wake up in the morning and this jelly belly’s there,
It’s the same when it’s afternoon I feel it everywhere,
And when the evening comes along my jelly belly knows
All I need is see you and my jelly belly rolls.

Chorus


No jewel is there that is as fair, or lovely, as is thee.
No jewel is there, that could compare that’s yours, so naturally.
No jewel and yet the flowers crown your beauty does impart.
This flower is the one true jewel and found within the heart.
All I Want To Do Is Dance With You…

All I want to do is dance with you, all I want to do is dance.
All I want to do is see it through whatever might be at chance.


That’s all I want to do, that’s all I want to do, that’s all I want to do,
That’s all I want to do, that’s all I want to do, that’s all I want to do.
All I want to do is dance with you all I want to do is dance.

All I want to do, is feel what’s true, all I want to do is dance.
All I want to do is see what’s new enjoying the whole romance.
I want to dance when the beat is strong, dance when it’s weak.
I want to hold on, and let go, experiencing every peak.
And when the music is far away, I’ll be there so I can say,
All I want to do is dance with you all I want to do is dance…

That’s all I want to do, that’s all I want to do, that’s all I want to do,
That’s all I want to do, that’s all I want to do, that’s all I want to do.
All I want to do is dance with you; all I want to do is dance!


And; A Spirit spoke and said,
“THE DAY BEFORE
HAS SHINED”