Terra Nullius born from the ashes of colonies past,
from a nation over seas far,
the white cliffs of Dover show their colour,
they reached a land of beauty rich and rare,
they saw and they conquered caring none for those that stood in front of them,
for years this ravaged,
destroying ancient culture,
until a man realised that the land he loved was not his,
taken from him unbeknownst,
he stood in despair,
the system against he fought,
until he died a young man of pain from tortures past,
in his grave he heard the victory he won,
Terra Nullius is gone,
Long live Eddie Mabo.

We came from different Tribes
Children of the great Kabuniyan
We came into being
Children of the Bamboo Forest

We hunt, we gather and fish
Living from Our Mother's gifts
The forest and the mountains
The Cordillera we praise

We chant and sing
The Voices of the Gods
Blessings we bring
and Revelations of Warning

The rituals and offerings
Dances of mystical powers
The humble Rice
and the Great forests

From Apo ni Tulao
To the humble Alan
Unto the God Ini-init
and Apo ni Gwani

We came into being
We children of the forest
Children of the rivers
Children of the ever strong Mountain

The landscape streaks by,
a slow shift from city streets to mountain passes.
There is a whole world for my eye to scry,
answers are hidden in grassy knoll not university classes.

You have to be stable like a tree,
a stalwart sensor of your surrounding
Find an equilibrium with the world and let your soul free.

You'd be careful not to pry,
whether among-st the sky or grasses
the world has ways to make you cry
but with time all pain passes.

I catch the wind as it sings,
the air slides off so smoothly as it licks me clean
I am the essence of the prolonged flight
a necessary piece of this biological schema or meme

Viewed from below, the sky caresses my form
fractal in its simple, yet non-single shadow swarm  
Hunting in the perfect performance;
I must scream: THIS IS LIFES’ ****

Suddenly I am separated in somewhat sinful schism
I drift apart from the forlorn form of what was once my prism
I miss that system...It was my home not my iron-clad prison

….but apart after the start....If I am part of the parts...........
….how shall I help my whole being...
….complete it’s functional syllogism with heart?

Falling so slowly,
Mother sky please excuse me
At this junction I must depart
In conclusion
I bid you adieu from my heart of hearts....
============================================until I am
Picked up by a man imbued with spirit, He holds the eagles medicine now firmly in his hand.  Distinct in shape and my weight helps him to understand.....  

….his brother in the sky
the being way up high
the one who is watching
far away but nearby....

I now know my function, though I lost sight for a while
I can help teach him to fly, out of his body and into
the cry of the eagle that soars with him now,
A brother in arms================= a lover of ours,
now with a friend on his brow, helping fulfill a spiritual how.

In pursuit of an elusive harmony
     summer nights rolled away from us
     reverberating into a numinous bass line
     while reconciling our dreams
     with a burgeoning truth

Flustered with desire
     and walking in a non-ordinary reality. Lost within the Source
    of all there is and ever was. We re-animated
    navigating through portals unexplained
     to retrieve this love

We plied our differences into commonality
     and re-aligned our fractured selves using the agency
     of synchronicity - having found
     an immutable archetypal truth
     and having found from where our self-portraits flow

Much more than soul mates, Plato
     offers stories of Zeus splitting souls in half
     as punishment for pride.
     In this incarnation, have we found humility?
     Will this be enough to carry us back to nobility?
    
It is challenging to find your way back
     into a lover's arms. Mistakes haunt us eternally (if we allow for that)
     but every morning if we awake
     and let go, using the suns setting and rising as a reminder that
     with experience, guidance, and repetition ... it gets easier

My half soul
     awoke as my mortality decomposed
     when half becomes one, then the real turmoil begins
     from the shores of St. Mary, Raven calls
     and I follow my destiny into an Obsidian Night

I was playing a game with my kids the other day

I asked:
What do you use to see?
She said 'your eyes'
He said 'your brain'
Both right
Next I asked what do you use to hear?
She said 'your ears'
He said 'your brain'
Both right, again

The wisdom of children!

The game ended there but it got me thinking about what we use to feel
The most straight forward answer is our skin
Your brain is what processes the sense of touch so that has to be included
What about your heart?
Where does it fit into the big scheme of things?
Isn't the heart the space where we process feelings?

I have to loosely define things and often turn them upside down
ruminate
reorder my worldview to make it copacetic
I'm pretty sure that I often walk in two worlds
If my mind is simply locked in the western paradigm then people look at me like I'm bizarre
I'm not joking when I say they've wanted to lock me up because of my views
When I allow my mind to get locked into this western paradigm,
I sometimes even feel like I belong in lockup.

That's even worse than being held against your will
You're being held because you've lost your will

So I play with definitions to better suit my needs

When you do this however, there is a risk
Last summer I unlocked a spectre as I drank deeply and greedily from Crypt Lake

Crypt Lake is a real place on this planet
How did it get it's name (you might ask)?
According to the Blackfoot, placenames aren't given,
they come from place

Let's contextualize ~ this is all part of the journey
The physical leads to the spiritual and vice versa
To get to Crypt Lake you have to enter Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park
Found in the southwest corner of Alberta and the northwest corner of Montana
Once through the gates you have to catch a boat at a certain time
You have to be in the physical plane of existence at this point otherwise you're not getting on that boat
Once you get to the trailhead, then you can start to drift

That's what I did
As I walked, I let the stories come into me
I let them flow through me
They were sitting there waiting to be told
A spruce, arm in arm, with a pine
Hawks circling overhead
An ever present alertness for our bear brethren
Always open to the wildflowers
Indian paintbrush (I have red hair could I be considered an indian paintbrush?)
Pollinators flitting about
Oh, the water

Listen to the stories the water told:
First we come to Hell Roaring Falls
Next Twin Falls
Next Burnt Rock Falls
And to reach the Crypt, we have to pass through a mountain tunnel
Opening up to Crypt Falls
and finally Crypt Lake

This is a regular heroes journey if you allow it to be
I was in that place in my mind where I allowed it to unfold as it may

This is a place that's also known as the Crown of the Continent
Not far away is Chief Mountain, Turtle Mountain, and Crowsnest Mountain
Also Writing-On-Stone and the Milk River and Sweetgrass
These are holy names, this is a holy land

What I saw at Crypt Falls was the backbone of the continent
I saw the backbone of Turtle Island

I was floored
I had been on a continent wide spirit quest a few years previously
There was talk that the Deed for Turtle Island was coming due
And maybe it would be produced at one of these gatherings
We all waited but nobody produced it

I ruminated on that idea for a few years
I'm pretty sure that the Deed was there
Those who held it, just didn't realize

I learned something at the Crypt
I wanted answers and I made an assumption
I assumed that the water held the answers
So I drank deeply, even greedily from the Crypt

Right there in the international peace park, on the crown of the continent
With the Old Chief and the Crowsnest not far away
Writing-On-Stone just a sashay away
What about writing in calcium?
If I were the earth, I would encode important information in something
Transmutable

Not blood.
Bones

What I learned up there on the mountain as I gulped down knowledge from the Crypt was that the deed is written into the bones of the land and into the bones of those borne of that land

This is indigenous knowledge

It's in the water, the water is the medium for the message
The bones are the stock
But just like a double helix
A genetic sequence is an expression of time and place
On a certain spacetime continuum this innocuous looking structure
(take a look in the mirror)
Has all the necessary answers

September 11

M.O.N.D.

Modified Newtonian Dynamics
... speed on the outside of the galaxy and the centre is the same ...
what about relativity?

In blackfoot I can talk about 2 days backward and 2 days forward
A 3 day road
That's it my friends

Don't go by the 12 month cycle
Like 50% of 7 billion
Go by the 13 moons
Circular?
Not quite
Time is repetitious
Reptilian
Might be a better interpretation

"Every year we perform the same ceremonies ...
We sing and chant the same songs
There is even repetition in the songs.
Medicine Wheels ...

The main axis is  aligned with the solstice
0.07 degrees off because of procession of axis
Possibly ...
Don't go past 2 days ...

September 12

Unaccountable, maybe ...

September 14

Not accounted for ... maybe not