I can vividly recall my first real encounter with my spirit guide, Kato'ya, when I was four. I had been playing out in the canyon my family shared with a herd of mustangs near Hawley Lake, Arizona. I had been playing for several hours, feeling very peaceful, and went to lie down in the grass near the waterfall and watch the dragonflies playing in the mist.

All of a sudden, it seemed like I was being talked to inside my head, yet from outside. I looked around me and saw a small rattlesnake near the pond, warming itself in Grandfather Sun's light. As I looked into this creature's eyes, it began showing me the Changing Mother, earth, explaining that she was going through shifts and changes to birth a new world, and that there was nothing to fear. The Creepy Crawler said that I would move to California to live, but that the majority of my family would stay in Arizona. I was quite comfortable living in the 1800 setting of our intimate lifestyle with Nature, and would miss my grandfather and cousins immensely, so I didn't want to move and didn't like the message. I didn't remember what else was said, although it went on for a long time. As it turned out, when I was ten, after one of my cousin was murdered, I unexpectedly moved to Carmel to live with my father.

By this time, I was receiving messages from Kato'ya on a regular basis. On the reservation it had been easy to discuss these things with my grandfather, but now, in mainstream America, it was hard to know who to trust. I sensed whole realms of ideas behind every painstakingly spelled out word, but I didn't feel confident enough to speak, and I was afraid to share with those that were not of my tradition.

Once I was able to express Kato'ya to others, my fear slowly left until one day it bid me goodbye, saying that as I became attuned to my Spiritual Guide it was difficult for it's Shadow to come through, and that it's purpose had been accomplished. From then on, Kato'ya guided me, giving direction, helping me teach, and assisting me with my spiritual evolution.

All that I share, is Kato'ya's gift.

I am inviting those of you on a Path of Beauty - of light and joy - to join with the essence of One as you read my words, and feel the community of all who are sharing knowledge in this time of earthly change. There is much that can be accomplished by a group holding unified, pure intent in their joint mind. Whenever certain thoughts and beliefs are held and practiced by a group of people - and the focus here is love, spiritual growth, and higher purpose - they magnify tenfold the ability of each person to create them in their own life, and make those thoughts available to others who are reaching out for assistance.

I invite your soul to join with mine as we explore our greater potential. Kato'ya's essence is in these thoughts and helps us open to our deeper, wiser selves. We are becoming who we always knew we were. Many of you have always felt different from those around, as if you knew you had a mission, something special to accomplish with your life. I hope my words help you unlock the keys to remembering that mission and purpose. I invite you to journey to the realms of light and love you came from, free of fear.

Joy is an inner note that you sound as you move through the day.

The Path of Beauty - of compassion - does not obligate you to love everyone regardless of how they act or who they are. It is a path of seeing the truth of who they are, acknowledging all their parts. It is the path of looking at people and asking is there anything you can do to heal, assist, or bring them in touch with their higher vision? If there is not, then you need to ask yourself, how will being in contact with them heal, assist, or bring you in touch with your higher vision? If there is no answer to either of these questions, then be on your way in peace and gratitude.

You may ask, what am I here to do that will bring me joy? Each one of you has things that you love to do. There is not one person alive who does not have something they love to do. What you love is a sign from your higher self of what you are to do.

All of you reading this are healing and growing, for you would not be attracted to this information if you were not evolving and raising your vibrational frequency.

Hiyaa gozhoo dolee . . . May peace and love flow over you.
Aho!

Permission is granted to share this article with others, provided it is done so in it's entirety and given appropriate credit. Do state on the article that this material is copyrighted. Other articles can be found at the Web Site of Maria Yraceburu, at http://home.earthlink.net/~earthwisdom. E-mail address: earthwisdom@earthlink.net

 SPEECH BY CHIEF SEATTLE AT THE TREATY OF 1854

THE GREAT CHIEF IN WASHINGTON sends word that he wishes to buy our land.

The Great Chief also sends us words of friendship and good will. This is kind of him, since we know he has little need of our friendship in return.

But we will consider your offer. For we know that if we do not sell, the white man may come with guns and take our land.

How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land?

The idea is strange to us.

If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?

Every part of this earth is sacred to my people.

Every shining pine needle,

Every sandy shore,

Every mist in the dark woods,

Every clearing and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people.

The sap, which courses through the trees, carries the memories of the red man.

The white man's dead forget the country of their birth, when they go to walk among the stars.

Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man.

We are part of the earth, and it is part of us.

And of man -- all belong to the same family. 

So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. 

The Great Chief sends word that he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to ourselves. 

He will be our father, and we will be his children.

Also, we will consider your offer to buy our land.   But it will not be easy.

For this land is sacred to us.

This silvery water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. 

If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred, and you must teach your children that it is sacred.

That each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the Lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people.

The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.

The rivers are our brothers, they quench our thirst.

The rivers carry our canoes.

They feed our children.

That the rivers are our brothers -- and   yours,

and you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.

The red man has always retreated before the advancing white man,

as the mist of the mountains runs before the morning sun

But the ashes of our fathers are sacred. Their graves are holy ground, and so these hills,
these trees, this portion of the earth is consecrated to us.

We know that the white man does not understand our ways.

One portion of land is the same to him as the next,

He is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs.

The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, 

and when he has conquered it he moves on 

and leaves his fathers' graves behind, and he does not care.

He steals the earth from his children he does not care.

His father’s graves and his children's birthright are forgotten.

He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads.

His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert.

I do not know.   Our ways are different from your ways.

The sight of your cities hurts the eyes of the red man.

But, perhaps, it is because the red man is a savage and does not understand.

There is no quiet place in the white man's cities.

No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring or the rustle of insect's wings.

But, perhaps, it is because I am a savage and do not understand.

The clatter only seems to insult the ears.

And what is there to life, if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill

Or the arguments of the frogs around a pond at night?

I am a red man and so do not understand at all. 

The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond, and the smell of the wind itself, cleansed by a midday rain or scented with the pinon pine.

The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath.

The beast,
The tree,
The man, they all share the same breath.

The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes.

Like a man for many days dying, he is numb to the stench.

But, if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us.

Remember the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.

The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh.

And the wind must give our children the spirit of life.

And, if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, a place where even the white man can go and taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow's flowers.

And so we will consider your offer to buy our land.

If we decide to accept, I will make one condition: The white man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers.

I am a savage, and I do not understand any other way.

I have seen a thousand rotting buffalos on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a passing train.

I am a savage, and I do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive.

What is man without the beasts?

If all the beasts were gone, men would die from a great loneliness of spirit.

For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man.

All things are connected.

You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers.

So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin.

Teach your children what we have taught our children, that the earth is our mother.

Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth.

If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.

This we know.   The earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth.

This we know.   All things are connected like the blood, which unites one family.

All things are connected.

Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth.

Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it.

Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

But we will consider your offer to go to the reservation you have for my people.

We will live apart, and in peace.

It matters little where we spend the rest of our days.

Our children have seen their fathers humbled in defeat.

Our warriors have felt shame, and after defeat they turn their days in idleness and contaminate their bodies with sweet foods and strong drink.

It matters little where we pass the rest of our days.  They are not many.

A few more hours, a few more winters, and none of the children of the great tribes that once lived on this earth, 

or roam now in small bands in the woods, 

will be left to mourn the graves of a people once as powerful and hopeful as yours.

But why should I mourn the passing of my people,

Tribes are made of men, nothing more.

Men come and go, like the waves of the sea.

Even the white man, whose God walks and talks with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny.

For we may be brothers after all, we shall see.

One thing we know, which the white man may one day discover, our God is the same God.

You may think, now if you own our land, you own Him, as well.

But you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for red man and white.

This earth is precious to Him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its Creator.   

The whites, too, shall pass, perhaps sooner than all other tribes. 

Continue to contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.

But in your perishing you will shine brightly, fired by the strength of the God 

who brought you to this land 

and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man.

That destiny is a mystery to us.

We do not understand it, when the buffalo are all slaughtered,

When the wild horses are tamed,

When the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men,

And the view of the ripe hills are blotted by talking wires.  

Where is the thicket?   Gone.

Where is the eagle?   Gone.

And what is it to say Goodbye to the swift pony and the hunt?

The end of living and the beginning of survival.

So we will consider your offer to buy our land.   If we agree, it will be to secure the reservation you have promised.

There, perhaps, we may live our brief days as we wish.

When the last red man has vanished from this earth, and his memory is only a shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, 

these shores and forests will still hold the spirits of my people.   

For they love this earth as the newborn loves its mother's heartbeat.   

So, if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. 

Care for it, as we have cared for it.

Hold in your hand the memory of the land, as it was, when you take it.

And with all your strength, with all your heart, preserve it for your children and love it as God loves us all.

One thing we know.   Our God is the same God.

This earth is precious to Him.   Even the white man cannot be exempt from the common destiny.

We may be brothers after all.

We shall see

SPEECH BY SEATTLE AT THE TREATY OF 1854

Allies of Growth - Insect Way-showers
by Joanne_Lauck


Excerpted from The Voice of the Infinite in the Small.
Allies of Growth. In shamanic traditions it was understood that other species are way-showers to the mysteries and messengers for the divine powers operating within us and within the universe. As initiators, insects and arachnids are impeccable, and as we discussed in the spider chapter, aligned with and frequently activated by the Trickster archetype. We can neither appease nor bargain with them. Their task in dreaming and waking is to arouse us out of our complacency and push us past the edge of what is familiar and comfortable. And once beyond the edge, where vision is possible and energy is available, we are transformed and renewed creatures who initiated our transformation.
The arousal methods of insects and the tactics of other species can be very persuasive. A Zen story describes the anxiety that accompanies these passages.
"Go to the edge," the voice said.
"No!" they said. "We will fall."
"Go to the edge," the voice said.
"No!" they said. "We will be pushed over."
"Go to the edge," the voice said.
So they went . . .
and they were pushed . . .
and they flew . . .1
One of the roles animals play is to get the human over the cliff. Some push, others chase. Some use pain to nudge us toward the cliff and away from safety. Stinging and biting insects might torment us until we jump.
If we understand their intent, their alignment with our souls and the forces of growth, we could try to lift ourselves up in surrender. We could appreciate that our fear or anger is a process that includes pride, doubt, helplessness, and self-protection. We could admit that we are afraid of the pain of a biting or stinging creature and afraid of the unknown-despite its promise of renewal. Accepting our fear shifts it and allows us to come into a new relationship with the unknown, to see it as mystery and as an important step in initiation. Aligning our personal wills with a greater will, we could then wait with fear, dread, and hope for the visit that marks the beginning of a shift of consciousness and new life.
The Gifts of Pain. One of the reasons this process of growth looks so foreign to us and feels so frightening, despite its archetypal nature, is the fact that we have split our rational awareness from our natural, image-making self. We can't access the symbols that map the process and give it meaning through concepts and rational analysis. And as long as we are alienated from our wilderness self, we are largely cut off from experiencing the spiritual and psychic energy that emanates from its potent symbols and images.
Another reason we are unfamiliar with this process of growth is that we have been raised to avoid pain and discomfort. Pain-relief products and services permeate the culture. Yet, pain is not inherently bad most of us tend to think of it that way.
Stephen Levine has discovered in his work with the dying that our reactions to physical pain offer insight into our attitude toward life in general, and the more we push pain away, the less energy we have for living. Pain stirs our grief and brings up long-suppressed anxiety and unfinished business. Simple awareness has a healing power. He suggests that we can use each moment of unpleasantness, each insect bite or sting, if you will, to learn how to meet all unpleasantness, all pain, and investigate how resistance turns pain into suffering.
Thus discomfort can teach us how to live and take us to places otherwise inaccessible in our normal conscious state. Each incident provides an opportunity to stay in the present moment and bring awareness to the places inside us that recoil and harden in resistance. Softening around them, as Levine advises, lets us penetrate the armor that keeps life at bay and lets us live closer to the mystery. No one can live a pain-free life. Knowing there are gifts in painful experiences helps redeem them and helps to temper our responses if it is another species that brings the pain.
In her book Pain: the Challenge and the Gift, Marti Lynn Matthews considers pain as a guide, a biofeedback system that lets us know what is healthy and unhealthy for us. She says, "there is integrity in pain: it is not punishment but a force that pushes us into expansion. Without a push, we would never take the leap that would allow us to fly free."
Transforming Weaknesses Into Strengths
Some cultures advocate the use of meditation and ritual to transform unpleasantness and discomfort and to further self-understanding. If you will recall from Chapter 3, Gyelsay Togmay Sangpo deepened his wisdom and compassion by attending to the lice on his body. In Path With A Heart, Jack Kornfield tells the story of a poisonous tree. On first discovering it, most people only see its danger. Their immediate reaction is to cut it down before someone is hurt. This is like our initial response to dangerous creatures. It is also our first response to other difficulties that arise in our lives, such as when we encounter aggression, compulsion, greed, and fear, or when we are faced with stress, loss, conflict, depression, or sorrow in ourselves and others. We feel great aversion and want to avoid it, or get rid of it. In the case of the poison tree, we cut it down or uproot it. In the case of an insect, spider or scorpion, we poison or stomp on it.
Others who have journeyed further along the spiritual path discover this poisonous tree and realize that to be open to life requires compassion for everything. Knowing the poisonous tree is somehow a part of them, they don1t want to cut it down. From kindness, they create boundaries around it. Perhaps they build a fence around the tree and post a warning sign so that others aren1t poisoned and the tree may also live. This is a profound shift from judgment and fear to compassion. Applying it to the mosquito, we might search for a vaccine to protect the insect from the malarial parasite, while taking measures to prevent mosquitoes from feeding on people already afflicted with malaria.
Another type of person, who is extremely wise, comes upon the poisonous tree and is happy because the tree is just what he or she was looking for. This individual examines the poisonous fruit, analyzes its properties, and uses it as a medicine to heal the sick. By understanding and trusting that there is value in even the most difficult circumstance, the wise person's actions benefit a great many people. This may have been Wagner von Jauregg's attitude when he used the malarial parasite to save thousands of syphilitics from a slow and painful death. As mystical poet Jalaluddin Rumi said, "Every existence is poison to some and spirit-sweetness to others. Be the friend. Then you can eat from a poison jar and taste only clear discrimination."
Perhaps, on the deepest levels, we already know that within adversity is a gift. It is why we are so fascinated with the creatures that can arouse us and initiate our transformations. In dreaming our psyche informs us in symbolic language about the role of fear, pain, and death as prerequisites for growth and renewal. And some deep aspect of self must activate the internal and external events, bringing us the creatures and experiences we need to initiate our own rite of passage and move toward healing and growth. We can dream those experiences, or we can unwittingly draw from the natural world the physical presences that will fit our particular needs Following shamanic wisdom, we could support our initiations by naming the creatures that we fear as our allies. It's a practical way to begin courting their power. What happens if, following Hildegard of Bingen's lead, we call dangerous creatures "glittering, glistening mirrors of divinity?" Are these not the passwords to open the door to our greater identity? Maybe all we are required to do is to meet adversity and pain with our respectful attention and be willing to learn from it. Instead of killing the creatures with the potential to harm us, seeing with the eyes of wisdom, we can dance around them and allow difficulties to become our good fortune.


Joanne Lauck is an environmental educator, San Jose public high school teacher, and former wildlife rehabilitator. In 1984 she had a series of powerful dreams involving animals which led her to study what Joseph Campbell called the "Way of the Animal Powers." In 1989 she began a book on the subject planning to include a chapter on insects. When she began to study them, however, she realized how badly misunderstood and maligned they were in Western culture and decided to try and set the relationship on a more positive track. Her award-winning book The Voice of the Infinite in the Small is the result of that intention. Order it online or from your local bookstore or call 1-800-366-0264. Joanne is looking for true accounts of positive interactions between people and insects and other small multi-legged creatures for possible inclusion in a second book. Contact her at: PO Box 8482, San Jose CA 95155 or email her jleafhobbs@aol.com



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