hay'dutsi'la

TWO MOON

Legend and ancient indigenous wisdom say the object in the sky that we identify as “The moon,” or “a dead planet,” is First Earth.
According to my indigenous Elders, First Earth had everything this earth has: Birds, butterflies, children, trees, fish. “Then two “’Thinkings’ came. Nobody knows from where. One ‘Thinking’ said: ‘This (First Earth) is a beautiful place. It is mine. I will use it to keep myself happy.’” The other ‘Thinking’ said: “No. You must not use. Many generations of children coming. Must save for them.”
“’Thinkings’ got into arguments over First Earth. They argued long time. Neither side win argument. Arguments started war. It big war and last long time. Near end, “Thinkings” want save earth for future generations of children used up half First Earth trying to protect it, and the other “Thinkings’ that want use earth for its own selfishness, used up half First Earth assaulting those want save it. First Earth all use up.
One day First Earth catch fire. Not enough water to put the fire out. First Earth burned all up.”
According to Craven, First Earth clearly shows that war. First Earth is scarred, scratched and pitted with eruptions.
CONTEMPORARY PROPHECY
Craven Gibson, invited us to look upon this Earth at this time. Clearly we must be concerned because of present “Thinkings” and their intentions to destroy Earth.
Craven then compared this earth’s “thinkings” now with First Earth’s “thinkings” then. He sounded like our earth was preparing to burn into another moon. Long I looked at Craven then asked, “Two Moons”? Craven softly answered, “Two Moon. Mebee soon.”

The end of that narrative sounded like the end to life as we know it, that this earth will burn into a moon, too. But an old tribal Grandmother (from the generation before my Grandfather) caught my brothers, cousins and I as we raced through summer’s freedom. To slow us down and get our attention, she gave us wahach and wild plum preserves. We were quiet, sitting at her kitchen table, chewing wahach and savoring the wild perfume in her preserves.
“No. That is not way.” She was talking about Craven’s moon narrative. “It must not be.” After a deep breath she continued. “Ye’ja” is song, yes, but, but medicine song. Ye’ja is in children hearts, one who yet ‘Twinkle little star.’ That one. At dawn, universe listen for song from children. Hearts pure. Song say:
‘Help Mother Earth, please. Mother sick and hurt. Help. Make good ‘gin.’ Great Power, Great Spirit, Great Wonder he listen, he hear. He wrap medicine ‘round world, heal. But children of world must sing, dawn, mountain top. You be responsible hisnawa (warrior). Do job. Earth heal. Juyjowa (sickness/badness) go.’”

The legend explains that humans being neglectful and cruel to earth, water, and life are hastening the day this earth catches on fire and burns into another moon. Tribal Grandmothers instructed this generation to not allow this to happen. They said dance (Medicine Healing Dance) and YE’JA (Medicine Love Song to Mother Earth) must now do their part and begin a healing so Mother Earth will not burn into another dead planet. That is all I am permitted to know at this time. Darryl Babe Wilson/Sul’ma’ejote

“El ESPIRANZA!”

Mati Waiya and Luhui Isha, Chumash, are intensely committed to a dream of gathering their Chumash and all people, so they might look upon Mati’s building of original tribal history, something he accomplished himself. He is expecting his cultural labor to become an inspiration that urges many other tribal people to begin using their hands and their dreams given to them by elders, and our original histories and begin building villages, tomols (plank canoes) and dance arenas; to carry water to sprinkle upon earth like rain-dreams, and to continue to revive the greatness of the Chumash Nation. For it is true. Chumash come from great people, therefore, Chumash are great people. Now we see Mati’s unique and rare effort in building a Chumash village with muscle and love, care and concern. He is supported with a startling will that is guided by fresh dreams from Pukamuka (wise and beautiful ancient ancestors who walked earth before us). Kim Rudner (Australia) said of his spiritual efforts, “I think it is a powerful gift. It is an inspiration for other tribes. I would hope someday a village could be created to use full time.” Wishtoyo has arranged the Medicine man/woman Summit at this creative, lively, culturally breath taking site. We are here for that Summit.

In the frightening days when Kennedy was murdered in Dallas and Johnson stepped up the carpet bombing of Viet Nam, a very old and wise Councilman from my tribal people dwelling near Mt. Shasta, gave me a note to “Give to the President (Johnson) the next time you see him.” It was written on a piece of brown paper bag he got while grocery shopping, and with a pencil he found while walking home: “There is no power in destructive, only in creative.” Maybe the President passed the note to Mati, “The next time he saw him,” because there is a glorious, seemingly ethereal essence here at Wishtoyo. At the moment I am at my cabin in the nearby hills. There is a Woman’s and men’s Talking Circle happening out on the grass. I must hurry, The Medicine man from Surinam is speaking through a translator. He leans forward, chin out, back straight, his words, intense. He is rigid and the pain, humiliation, anger and feelings of helplessness are etched on his face and pronounced in creases around his mouth and in the rigidness of his spine. Oh, no, he relaxed. He becomes silent. The next speaker is up. I found an empty chair at the circle. Soterro and Theo are already here. Kim is over in the medicine woman’s circle.

At the continental brunch (I asked for potatoes. They said “This is Continental! “Can’t you make Continental Potatoes?” Luhui Isha did - maybe the first Continental Fried Potatoes in this world). Then, there was a women’s/men’s Circle where we compared notes and prepared for the gathering just down the hill at Wishtoyo. The emerging, frightening reality is that the logging, road building, gold mining and oil drilling is destroying the rain forests. This activity must cease because the Medicine People harvest medicines from the rain forests that are used to combat diseases that have been rampant and mutating since Columbus and his mercenaries penetrated our homeland. No rain forest, no medicine. “Progress” and “Success” seem to be gruesome machines designed to watch us all die from diseases preventable but that are viciously curtailed by “Progress” destroying the medicines that will provide a cure for us. The medicine people are in terror of why “harvesting” the rain forest persists.

Dreaming in the essence while looking over the expansive blue ocean dancing far beyond the horizon, we revel in the depth of beauty all around Wishtoyo, with secrets snuggling into the many recesses the eternal ocean creates as it is busy carving cliffs and sandy beaches here in Malibu, the southern most end of the Chumash home land. We stand in awe. Wishtoyo is a Chumash village being constructed by Mati Waiya, almost single handedly except for a few friends and family. His wife Luhui Isha, the blessed, is there standing with him, too. Mati said he was blessed when Luhui Isha came into his life. Not only Mati was blessed, the landscape the dawn, the ocean and the stars were blessed, too. Mati showed us the tule and willow huts he constructed almost alone and almost all by hand, which are of better quality than Robinson Caruso. Of Wishtoyo, I am confident my Elders would say, tijtawa (genuine).

With excited pride Mati pointed out land marks in the landscape and out across the ocean. I failed to see the landmarks on the vast ocean until he pointed southwest and said there is where a pod of whales visited Wishtoyo. “They were going north.” Sometimes a big tail would splash and sometimes a big, shining, black body would rise. My mind saw that and marked it with a “thought” buoy. It was beautiful. “We, (he and Luhui Isha) were so excited and honored to see that, right at our front door.” With bubbling pride Mati continued to point out landmarks while hawks and sea gulls wheeled upon the wind. A mild sun made each little ripple on the ocean sparkle and danced towards the horizon. A ship, almost invisible because of the distance, moved slowly north.

The Medicine man/Shaman Summit that we are attending is near Malibu, and a few miles upon the hill at the Cal-amigas ranch. This gathering is most spectacular and necessary. The medicine men/women are from Hawaii, Costa Rico, Colombia, Brazil, Surinam, The Amazon Basin, Africa, and other places where rain forests grow the medicinal plants. Their concern is deep. The logging, road building, oil drilling, and gold mining are destroying the forest which also destroys medicinal plant life. Too, they worry how to protect the medicine knowledge they now have, from exploitation. Interpretation and translation was necessary, so we listen mostly and never had a moment for one-on-one conversations (with a translator in the middle). We had several men’s circle, women’s circle and mixed circle discussions. I watched the eyes and body language of the medicine people as they discussed their fears and hopes. Worry and concern were etched by creases on their faces and the urgency of the moment was in the jut of their chin or the stiffening of their spine as they talked.

Then, suddenly it was time for a feast and the last dance before we went home. Startled I looked around wondering where all of the five days went. I felt we were building rainbow bridges between South and North America and we were just beginning. We can’t go now! Hummingbird, in the legend, prepared to put a bouquet in the center of the sun so there always would be rainbows for children. At dawn he collected the bouquet from the meadow. At sunrise he dashed to the sun, planted the bouquet and darted home. Mission accomplished. It seems we are still in the meadow picking flowers and are not yet prepared for a sun-journey. It is the last dinner and the last dance! Next year, Mati and Luhui, can we find little moments for one-on-one discussions and a chance to dream and gather flowers together once again? That may make for a more perfect journey to the sun.

Of Mati, my son, Soterro, said, “He is one of the few who carries a good thought.” Theo hollered from the kitchen, “He is hope.” I looked at him for clarification and he said, “El Espiranza!” I cherish the way Mati and Luhui carry their hearts in their hands and all of their dreams in their hearts. On the last day some of us were comfortable sitting in the shade of a huge round structure where the fire pit lives. The structure that the Boy Scouts helped Mati build has a smoke hole in the roof. “We can see the moon through that hole,” Mati said.

After al fresco dinner at Wishtoyo, and near sunset, the Chumash dancers entered the already crowded fire pit arena, dancing. Soft drumming guided the feet and the rhythm of the traditional dancers while sleepy sun dropped behind the horizon and the drums found a more rapid beat. The shadowy fire pit arena could not hold all of us and yet have room for dancers even though we chinked in at every angle. Then the Aztec/Mexica dancers entered the firelight, moving us closer to each other. Next, the Hawaiian dancers filed down into the fire arena, causing us to snuggle closer, still. They danced and they drummed and they dreamed –we all dreamed. Dreams danced in sparkling eyes all around the fire pit arena. It was beautiful. It was precious. It was most comforting, safe and marshmallow-sweet. I cried, but not alone. After composing myself I looked. Happy moon was peering through the smoke hole. A little later the drums and clappers stopped. Last dance was over. Dark. We gobbled food scattered across several tables nearby, then we departed to our cabins on the hill, headlights searching ahead.

Mati and Luhui, while planning for the next Summit, please allow us time to dream all together. The mighty ocean will provide us with good thoughts. The warm breezes will stir our creativity. Soft autumn sun and sweet Mother Earth will touch the wisdoms our Elders left for us, moon and songs from the universe will shift our understanding and Earth Mother will provide love. Our job then will be to fold these delicate and necessary ingredients together with a spoon full of our dreams. After we slightly knead it, we’ll cook it marshmallow-like at the fire pit and share our bounty with each other and everyone. Then we will dream the evening down and at dawn look upon a beautiful rainbow of our own dreaming. Then, in time of need the precious medicine people can come to us or we can go to them, like the Wishtoyo legend says, walking upon the rainbow.
But first we must stop logging the rainforest and destroying medicinal plants, prevent any more roads through its landscape, and arrest the relentless tactics of gold diggers because the damage they each do today threatens the medicines we need tomorrow. It is a simple equation. The medicines gathered from Mother Earth are more necessary to future than a mountain off gold.. “Progress” and “Success” must amend their priorities.

This Chumash dream created a beautiful event and wrapped it delicately around the concerns of our medicine people – our healers and Doctors. They need protection and love, too, and so do the rain forest , and the children of our future.

A moment ago I asked Theo what he thought the first time he saw Mati and Luhui Isha at Wishtoyo. “The guy with bones in his nose?” “Yes.” He said, “I was happy to see them and I hoped they were happy to see me.”

They were, absolutely!

Dr Babe

[I wrote this for my grandchildren so they might see, touch and taste what I did. Maybe it will cause the hair on their neck to stand up. I wrote it so I would never forget, too ]

SILVER DAWN OF THE SWINOMISH, 2011
It is true, it is true,
It is true, it is true
they came in a dream in a whispering canoe
They came as one heart hearing an ancestral drum, beating
I looked and there was a great greeting, a great greeting, a great greeting,
Paddles thrusting, rising, shining, dipping, thrusting
as it has been for every generation of our lives, trusting
Muckleshoot and Quiluete, S’Kokomish, Sonomish, Suquamish too,
Puyallip, Samish and Lummi true,
Shinnocok, Kyuqot, Sliammon then
Hamoloco, Nanoose, Naniamo again and again,
Slipping through the silver dawn they came,
as a dream, as a dream, as a dream they came,
Dandalia, Bella Bella and Warm Springs slid by
Our ancestors singing under dripping skies,
Sauk Suiattle, Alaska, Santa Barbara, see,
they came as a dream for you and for me
The paddles splashed, a thousand cameras flashed,
and the multitude was crying,
While the universe wrapped around us all
and was sweetly sighing
The mist appeared then came a constant sprinkle
The same that fell a million years ago,
making sweet, little hearts tinkle.
Great Powers of the universe leaned close
whispering one to another,
“It is a good way, yes it is a good way, yes it is a good way,
little sister and brother.”
Esquimalt, Quinault, Queets and Umatilla; Esquimalt, Quinault, Queets and Umatilla; Esquimalt, Quinault, Queets and Umatilla….

Darryl Babe Wilson (Grampa Babe)
(Read this again listening to the heart-beat of the universe. Also, please know that my capacity as a writer is faulty. To include every tribe, nation and person is sometimes difficult).