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THE LOST TABLET OF THE HIPPIE

 

In the winter of 1971 I was cutting firewood up at a farm outside of Eugene, Oregon. It was part of the Back to the Land movement as they called it a generation ago, when thousands of people, young people mostly, fled the cities for greener pastures at the edge of the backcountry, planting gardens, cutting firewood, building buildings with recycled materials, domes, yurts and living or at least trying to live, in some kind of communal harmony.

 

At the same time we already had become an information outpost of the Gathering: letters being written, invitations being distributed, ideas being brought together in preparation for the first Rainbow Gathering now only a year and a half away.

People came looking for a community of people to be part of, looking for a group of people who wanted to touch the earth with their labor. And also looking for a place to freak freely, to abandon ship from the upheavals, the marching in the streets or the marching away to war of the sixties. For draft dodgers heading to Canada we were a stop on the Underground Railroad. For runaways we were a secure unharmful spot offering food, and good advice. For the young local citizens and loggers we were a place to go party. For scientists or architects or botanists we were a place providing in-the-field examples of geometric architecture, organic farming, small scale logging, and solar technologies. We were experimenting, sometimes experimenting wildly, with herbal medicines, and very carefully with midwifery, meditation, yoga, acupressure chanting, and so on. It was a wonderful, bold time. And we knew that all over the country -- there were others like us, in both smaller and larger groups working on the very same problems and the same dreams.

 

Into this farm rolled a large deep-purple square-backed truck containing a small clan on their way north. They had been on the road trading. They said they didn't want to use any money so they had adopted the trading lifestyle. They had a truck-full of good stuff: tools blankets books, toys, candles, rope, clothes, stuff we could use. It was fun to go to their big purple truck and trade.

 

As they left they gave us a pouch of Hopi corn seed. They said it was a gift really for the nice welcome they'd been given. And with the seed they gave us planting instructions for the traditional way to plant the corn.

 

A few months later spring sprang, the ground dried out, and we turned the soil in the lower field. First we planted the frost hardy greens, then the transplants from the cold frame greenhouses we'd built, followed a few weeks later by plantings of corn and beans.

 

We brought everyone together by blowing the conch shell. We talked about the way of planting where the man with a stick goes ahead, poking the holes and the woman follows behind planting the seeds, dropping them into the holes the man has made. But in the discussion seeking balance, people wanted to do it both ways with both men and women each taking turns with the sticks and the seeds.

 

It was beautiful. All done in silence. The corn pouch was passed with reverence for the life inside it. As we planted, the afternoon began to cloud over and a light rain started to fall. In the end we held hands in our OM circle as the clouds burst over us and wetted down the valley. The sun dipped under the clouds filling the forested hills with golden misty light and a rainbow rose up from the river and arced down -- I thought it was going to land on where we'd just planted the corn. But no, it touched instead on the gods-eye standing on the center of the garden. The whole scene was dazzling. The sun, the mist, the rainbow, the new planted deep-brown earth, us a part of it all.

 

Then someone's small voice said, "Why don't we go up the hill to the meditation platform to take this all in?”

 

Single file we went up the trail, a flute casting slow notes across the valley. As we get to the prayer platform overlooking the valley, someone notices a rock nestled in the decay of a giant cedar stump.

 

But it's only after we've sat that we look it over, passing the carved stone among us. We leave it setting in the stump as it was.

Over a joyful, noisy dinner, amid many other topics, the rock is mentioned. "Hey did anybody see that carved rock out by the prayer platform?"

 

Nobody had but those of us who'd just been there.

 

For most of the next year the stone sat where it was. The rock itself was carved on one side with images that were themselves made up of smaller images, figures and faces, and within those smaller signs, figures, designs, until smaller than that it was hard to tell where the carving left off and the natural pattern of the rock began.

 

More than 7 months later I left Oregon for the East Coast and holiday visiting. But along the route we made stops passing out invitations to the Gathering next July. The invitations were printed and posted, but wherever possible it was given by word of mouth, in coffee houses, yoga centers, community newspapers, laundromats, street corners, on campuses, at rock n' roll shows, places of worship…wherever, whenever. And my travel-mates and myself were not the only ones out doing this. There were other car-fulls traveling, crisscrossing the countryside meeting people and spreading the invitation.

 

One set of travelers went through the American Southwest and then eastward and up the coast to where we met up. We planned a trip to Washington, D.C. to distribute invitations and we traded tales of where we'd been.

 

One of their stops had been in the Hopi Lands where they'd heard the yearly ceremonial telling of the Hopi histories and prophecies. They spoke of the part of the story about the times yet to be, where people called the Warriors of the Rainbow would come and somehow set things right in the troubled world  and they would come bearing a rock, a carved rock that would signal to the Hopi that these were the people of their prophecies.

A rock? A carved, inscribed-type rock? I recounted the tale of our corn planting and we made plans to go back to Oregon and bring the stone down to the Hopi for their examination. First I got on the phone to Kaushal and asked him to go get the rock and hold onto it, protect it.

 

Returning west, we found the tablet safe and dry, now wrapped in a small white woven cloth and tied with a coiled cord. We loaded up two cars and a van with fourteen of us and headed toward the southwest. Close to our destination we stopped at Jacques' place on a remote mesa. He'd been living there for years, acquainted with the Hopi and Navaho peoples.

 

"You gotta purify yourselves, make yourselves ready," he told us. And we followed his advice taking time to fast, bathe ourselves, meditate and wrap up our hair as a sign of respect. Then we went early in the morning, to the Hopi village where Feather Knew there was a Kiva, a prayer space, that was open and where we could sit and meditate before going on. An older woman met us and explained that this Kiva used to be open but that too many people had come and abused the space so the Kiva wasn't open to the public anymore. On we went, guided by Feather and Jayson to Thomas Banyaca's house. He wasn't home.

 

Our next stop was David Monongye's house. Already the sun was starting to bake us. People were home there, and I and Rome and Barry went inside. The radio was blaring loud tinny music. A woman was feeding young children. An old woman sat still on a bench at the side of the room. There were buckets of fried chicken on the table. An old man sat eating. "Come in, c'mon in boys," said the man, gesturing toward us at the door. This was David.

 

And in we went. "What do you want. What brings you here?" He asked over the din of the radio and the children.

 

"We … we brought you a stone tablet which we found." I began, getting right to the point.

 

"You brought a what?" he said, trying to hear over the lunchtime noise.

 

For a moment the possible foolishness of this entire journey flashed thru my brain. "We brought you a stone tablet." I went on slowly and clearly this time, "which we found."

 

The younger woman's hand switched off the radio.

 

"Do you have it with you?" asked David.

 

"Yes, it's outside in one of the vans."

"Well go and get it and bring it in."

 

Like a curtain rising on a whole different scene the place transformed. The food was swept off the table. The children ushered out another door to play. The old woman had lit a candle and was sitting by it at an altar in the corner when we returned inside with the wrapped up stone tablet.

"Open it up." David encouraged.

 

We did, and he ran his fingers over it, almost more to be touching it, feeling it, than looking at it. "Well, how did you get this?" he wanted to know. And I recounted, in brief, the story I have told you here. Barry spoke about the planned Gathering that we were all working on, and Rome, as a Native American, spoke to David about the respect we young people had for the Native American ways.

 

David asked a few specific questions about where and when we got the rock. Then without further to-do, he wrapped it back up and getting up, said, "We'll just have to see who's here to take a look at it."

 

He went out and spoke with his neighbor, then told us they were going to round up some of the others, that he thought there were "enough of us here to have a good look together," and that we should go to the house he gave us directions to.

 

We followed the directions he'd given us, which took us back to the very same place, next to the Kiva, where we had been that morning.

 

It was Mina's house. She’s head of the Hopi Bluebird Clan and she met us at the door, once again, and invited us inside. The entryway opened to a larger room and there were assembled a group of older Hopi. Seventeen I counted. I was nervous as could be. It was a humbling experience just standing there and feeling the combined weight of thousands of years of the tribal culture.

 

David motioned for us to come up closer and tell our tale. As we spoke, he translated into Hopi, and there was another man there who translated. Sometimes the translation process was simple, other times the Hopi would all speak among themselves in this wonder song-like language. David was encouraging us not to leave out details. Things that were small to us might be important to them.

 

We spoke also about the vision of this Gathering, and how this was the spiritual quest that had brought us together as a clan. They talked again for a bit among themselves, and then asked a series of questions: What were the colors of the gods-eye in the garden? How much corn did we plant? What direction was the tablet facing when we found it? How many people had handled it, carried it since? And so on.

 

In all this telling we were clear, very clear, that we made no claims whatever about what this tablet was or was not, only that all things considered it seemed that the right thing to do was to bring this stone to them.

 

At last, their glances turned to Mina. And she came forward and asked us, her eyes as piercing as a great night bird's eyes in the dark of the desert, she asked us to show them the rock. Without any further fuss I unwrapped it held it toward her.

She looked and spoke with clarity and to the point. "It is not the same color, it is not the same type of rock, nor the right shape to match the piece missing from the tablet that I have."

 

She turned now and was addressing not just we rainbows, but all the people in the room. "However," she went on, "when my father gave me that tablet, and left me his instructions he told me that this world is full of illusions and we must not let our eyes be fooled. He told me then, that in a time like this I should take the rock and place it near to the tablet itself to see edge to edge if the pieces fit."

 

"Can you give it to me?" she asked, and without a word I held the stone out to her.

 

She took the rock and moved thru the bunches of people toward the rear of the room and out a door at the back.

 

Perhaps ten minutes later she was back. When she spoke her quiet voice had a strength like the Grand Canyon. "It is as I thought, your rock is the wrong shape, color and size." She was shaking her head, "It does not fit as the missing piece of our tablet."

David took it from her and handed it back to us. "This is your tablet," he said as he passed it back to us.

 

I spoke, feeling honor at having been thoughtfully received at all by these real elders of an enduring tribe. "We are a very young tribe, like a grandchild tribe. Your are a very old tribe like a grandparent tribe. We need all the help and advice we can get from you…and if there is anything we could do for you, let us know and we will do what we can. At least we will try."

 

David again translated, and from the eager responses, it seemed there was a lot to be told to us. "It is clear," he began, "that you and we are working for the same Great Spirit. We all desire Peace in our lives, for our children and for everyone. Because this is what you are working for, we know that you are warriors of the rainbow, but whether your are the Warriors of the Rainbow that have been foretold well, that is another matter, but you are young and full of hope and there is much life stretching out in front of you."

 

Then the other Hopi man was translating, "If you want to know a task that we believe The Rainbow Warriors will accomplish, it is to rid the Black Mesa of the demon machines that the coal companies have put there. These are sacred lands for us and they are being destroyed for coal and the smoke in the sky that the coals brings."

 

Several Hopi were talking in the old tongue now all at once and the translator was trying to keep up with it. They were telling us about the strip mining. I felt in awe of their serious wisdom and their passion not for the money coal and uranium could bring, but for the safety and security of the children of our world.

 

Then the conversation changed tone, and now they were giving us instructions on Care of Sacred Tablets. A number of the old Hopi spoke, and they were telling us of their traditions, several of them speaking up in modern English.

 

"Don't take any photographs of it."

 

"Don't make any rubbings of it or draw a picture of the pictures on it."

 

"This way the only way to see what it looks like is to see it with your own eyes."

 

"Keep it wrapped up. Don't keep it open all the time on display. That way when you do open it up it is a special moment to pay attention to. Otherwise if it's open all the time on your shelf, the people will forget and they will argue and do foolish things in front of it."

 

And with glad hands and many thanks we wrapped up our tablet and departed from Mina's house out under the now darkening sunset sky

 

Things moved along quickly toward the first Rainbow Gathering. We went back up to Oregon and included in the booklet "The Rainbow Oracle," an account of the meeting with the Hopi, and an article about the coal company digs at Black Mesa. And rainbow people have been volunteers trying to keep destructive forces of profit/greed from damaging Native sacred lands ever since. We may not have made a lot of headway but we do keep trying.

 

In "The Rainbow Oracle" we also asked people to bring a stone from their own home and put these in a pile at the site of the July Fourth meditation, a kind of representation of the earth. And people did this and Skyblue carried our carved rock up Table Mountain and set it on the pile of stones that was heaped there. It sat there all day. But in the evening, with the cool Colorado wind beginning to blow she brought it back down the mountainside.

 

The rock began a long odyssey. It was carried and cared for by many different people. It went to the Native American in Minneapolis where a petroglyph expert pronounced it "at least a 100 years old." It was bought to a psychic reader who made tape recording about its connection to the great pyramids of mythic Lemuria. It was brought back to the Hopi lands and some there saw a bear claw sign on it and remarked that was like marker stones left behind during the bear clan migrations long ago. It was wrapped and rewrapped with each keeper adding perhaps another layer until five years later in 1977 it was brought to the New Mexico Rainbow Gathering along side the Gila River.

 

That year Grandfather David came to the Gathering. I remember him riding down the Gila Valley on a burro pack baskets loaded on behind him. One day, while the council was taking place, Jimmer took out the tablet and opened it on top of the blankets and cloths it had been wrapped in. Then Grandfather David came to speak in the council. He had someone draw out the symbols of the prophecy rock, the Hopi's prophecy rock, and slowly in the center of the tipi village under the midday sun, he retold the story of the Hopi people and the four worlds, full of detail and spoken slowly and carefully as from log memory. Then he was done and he returned to his lodge and the council continued.

 

Later that same day, after dinner and dark, the drums started up, the fire threw sparks into the desert sky, and in one of those quiet places amid the drumming someone's voice said David would like to speak to the circle. So he came out from his lodge and lit by the evening Relight spoke to us again.

 

"It's not by accident that the words 'Hopi' and 'hippie' should be alike. We are all people of peace, we are all working for the same Great Spirit. You cannot rely on the banks, or the corporations or the government. They will never respect you unless you hold territory. You must take back the Earth, peacefully, one piece at a time. Plant seeds, and water them, and make the Earth beautiful again."

 

From there the tablet was brought back to the farm in Oregon where it was first found. We kept it under wraps except for full moon celebrations or when someone came who expressed a desire to see it.

 

In 1978 we took it to the Gathering in Oregon, and there, on the sixth of July Harold and Jeannie suggested we bring it out and share its story. As each blanket and cloth was unfolded, revealing its own hidden shells or feathers or beadwork, people began to gather 'round, straight to get a view of this rock. At the outside of the crowd people were trying to tell people what was going on and to relay the parts of the story being told. It was almost too much, everyone wanting to a chance to see and a little pushing of the circle's outside meant people were stumbling on top of each other pressing in closer at the circle's center. Freedom said, “Y'all finish this story up fast before someone gets hurt." And finish it up we did, and the stone was rewrapped in all the stuff, and that was the last time I have seen it.

 

It went from the Oregon Gathering up and down the coast, and to Mexico where it was taken at the full moon to the top of the Jaguar pyramid it passed as we pass things among ourselves with love and delight and it went with Birdie to a bluegrass festival outside, I believe, of Lincoln, Nebraska, where the car and people she had a ride with left unannounced without knowing anything about the wrapped bundle in their car’s trunk.

That was 19 years ago. But this was no rock in a bag. This was an elaborate bundle, tied and containing something carved and beautiful and mysterious. I do not believe that it has been "thrown away." I believe that it is something waiting to be refound.

 

Is there a Tablet that is somehow Our Tablet? Or, are we just trying to mimic other tribes who have a tablet, or several tablets or a lost tablet? And does this tablet have some meaning more than its mysterious carvings?

 

I can tell you what we do have. We have a social program that cares for our young, our weak, our sick, our old, and as best as we can for ourselves and each other. We have an evolving culture that cares about the Earth and all its inhabitants. We have a growing community that respects the land, the water, the sky.

 

And I know that when we live in conscious awareness of doing good for each other and the earth, that the signs are everywhere along the way, that omens spring up at each turn; that there are natural wonders and mythical symbols that appears as makers, as if to guide us, every day of our lives … but usually our eyes are closed to such things and our minds occupied with just getting by.

 

And the Hopi corn from the clan in the big purple truck? Corn from the seed of that seed is alive and still being grown today.

 

Is the Lost Tablet of the Hippies ever going to be found? Does whoever has it know what it is? Perhaps someone reading this or hearing this story will come upon it and recognize it for what it is. Could it be brought back to the Gathering? And…what would we do then?

 

Garrick Beck/ Aqua Fria, New Mexico

 

BY SIDNEY HAS-NO-HORSES:

[from the transcript of the Regular October Session (October 4, 2005) of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribal Council Proceedings at Eagle Butte, South Dakota]

OCTOBER 17, 2005

    "ROBERT WALTERS: Mr. Chairman, thank you and Council, with us is Sidney Has-No-Horses. He is a medicine man from Oglala and Mr. Chairman, he has a message that he's going to all the tribes, all the reservations, that came out of a ceremony and I feel it's a good message. I visited Mr. Has-No-Horses and so at this time, I'd like to get the floor for him.

SIDNEY HAS-NO-HORSES:

    "Mitakuye Oyasin. All my relatives.

    "I'd like to get in the middle if I could, I really don't like to use the mic.

    "My name is Sidney Has-No-Horses. I'm from the Pine Ridge Reservation. You probably know my father, his name was Dawson Has-No-Horses. He was a yuwipi man, a powerful medicine man. My grandfather's name is Frank Fools Crow. He was also a powerful medicine man.

    "Six months ago, we had a ceremony, in this ceremony, two angels came to me and they talked to me and they told us of the devastation that would happen to the islands and the Indian Ocean.

    "They told us of the earthquakes that would hit Japan.

    "They told us of the earthquakes that will hit South America and the they also told us of the Tsunami that wiped out all the people and they told us of the hurricanes that came to Florida, the one that came to New Orleans and the one that went to Texas. There's one more hurricane coming to wipe out another city.  Two weeks ago, we has a ceremony, Sitting Bull came in and he talked to me; Crazy Horse, he talked to me; Chief Big Foot talked to me and they asked me to go to the Seven Council Fires and to the Council People and to warn all of these Fires, within six months. There's going to be a tidal wave that's going to wipe out Los Angeles. Within six months, there 's going to be an eruption in the northwest with the volcanoes.

    "Two eruptions within six months. They say from the eruptions of theses volcanoes, the ash is coming, the Missouri River will be destroyed. They say the water that we drink from the ground is going to be no longer drinkable. These hardships are coming because Gold is bringing this. Whether you believe in Christianity, Native American Church or the traditional way, if you read the Bible, we are going into the fourth seal. There's diseases coming that are going to wipe out our children and like this man said here, meth -methaphetamine on our rez is very bad too. If we don't stop that, it's going to destroy the next generation. Many vegetables are going to be born into our tribes. When I'm done here, I am going to Standing Rock [Reservation] and I am going to stand in front of them, their council and tell them the same thing I am telling you now. This winter is going to be very cold for a long time. Ranchers are going to lose their horses and cows because it is not going to warm up. The price of propane is going to skyrocket and sometimes they are not going to be able to deliver the propane to our families. This food issue in the Bible, it says one day there will be no food in the store's shelves. If you look at the hurricane, a lot of the stores, there's no food on the shelves.

    "These people lost their homes. They can't drink the water and so I come because of the mighty chiefs that talked to me and because of who I am. They tell me, I need to warn the tribes.

    "Today, I came here without announcement, but to see you all gathered like this, I know God is on my side to see you gathered. The Sisseton-Wahpeton tomorrow will be gathered at 10 o'clock and they will hear what I have to hear. The Flandreau people are going to be waiting for me tomorrow evening. I 'm going up to Fort Yates here, I'm going to talk to them even if it's after hours and so I thank you very much for letting me come in and I'm thankful that I got all of you together at the same time. I offer you all a handshake. My name is Sidney Has-No-Horses. I'm from Batesland, South Dakota. You might want to write this down. My phone number is (removed). We incorporated ourselves through the State of South Dakota to let you know that we are serious. Within six months, we are going to be living in a hell of a world and these chiefs have talked to me, and my cousins. If you ever want a ceremony, you get ahold of us and we will bring you a ceremony to let you believe. But the chiefs
 tell me, some of you have good hearts. Some of you have good mind. Some of you have spirituality. You are the people that will take heed on the words I bring and there's a lot of people that didn't believe us when everything we told them has happened and my President, Cecilia Fire Thunder, I talked to her yesterday and she supports because everything I told her would happen to our tribe has happened. The power of God, he knows what he's bringing to us and in three years, as the keepers of Mother Earth, if the Seven Fires do not come together, there's going to be a meteorite that will be coming and it's going to hit off of San Francisco and they told us that the Seven Council Fires,, these Seven Fires never has hate and jealousy toward each other. I've been trying to get the medicine men of Oglala to be in unity, but they can't and now Gold asked me to come and get all the Tribal Councils together and all the tribes together.

    "That's a very hard job that he's giving me. I'm very nervous as I stand here in front of you, but I tried to look you all in the eye to let you know that I'm for real and so at this time, there are food for thought, things you can think about in the next six month and this little time you have given me. I thank you. Now I'm going to Standing Rock. I will be going to every reservation..

    Maybe the tribal members will get together and at least the tribal presidents will have a ceremony for all you to hear and believe in God.

    "All my relatives. Mitakuye Oyasin."

RETYPED TRANSCRIPT OF THE COUNCIL PROCEEDINGS HELD IN EAGLE BUTTE, SOUTH DAKOTA ON OCTOBER 4, 2005, REGULAR OCTOBER SESSION.

[Cheyenne River Reservation
Cheyenne River Sioux Tribal Council
Gregg Bouland, Chairperson
P.O. Box 590
Eagle Butte, SD 57625]
 
submitted by George Douvris
 
 
This information was sent to VISION COUNCIL MAGAZINE and is posted for your information.
 
Hopi Elders call to Indigos

Friends,

The Hopi Nation has called to the New Children to play their essential role in healing the world, especially the water of the world. I recently received this letter (excerpt below) asking the
Indigos to step forward, and for us, their Guardians, to assist them in this critical endeavor. Please read this message and pass it on to
everyone you know.

Also, the Indigo documentary, "The Indigo Evolution," will have its world premier on November 14 in Phoenix, and we invite you to join us. This movie, which features experts including Ram Das, Doreen
Virtue PhD, Neale Donald Walsch, Gary Zukav and water expert Dr. Emoto, is perhaps the best way to connect with and understand these masters. Complete info on the premier is at the bottom.

In Peace,
James Twyman


Message and Plea from the Hopi Elders for the Indigo Children:

"To Hopi, children are the natural healers of the manifest and unmanifest world. From the beginning, we have called upon them, day-to-day, to restore and sustain the harmony and balance upon which the Hopi and the world depend.

They bring fresh attachment to life and the future, hope to what is ever-coming to be. Peace among peoples and cultures, health and purity in nature, love and hope within our homes all depend upon this hopeful healing nature of children. It is in learning through them
that we come again to restore our true selves and to create the daily balance by which we and all life are sustained.

When discord and hatred, disrespect and abuse rule the home for a time, it is to the children that the parents turn. Their voice is a healing. Through them, mother and father learn to speak to one another again. Respect is recovered; proper behavior renewed; family,
the balm of days, is restored; and Hopi life is preserved.

It is time once again that we turn to the children and seek from those who are innocent and have the power to heal all waters and for all of life which it sustains -- or not. As the life-quality of water is threatened by human and industrial waste, by irresponsible behaviors and disrespect -- as sickened water weakens all of life -
it is the prayers of children that must bring hope-filled healing to the spirit and substance of water, to water-the-source-of-all-life."


The Hopi Elders


Tickets for "The Indigo Evolution" premiere can be purchased at
www.mishkaproductions.com (while the conference is sold out, the
Indigo Evolution premiere is not).
 

These words and principles were sent to us at VISION COUNCIL MAGAZINE and are being posted for your information. They represent the viewpoints of the  authors and are provided for your interest, benefit and consideration.

Ancient Exchanges of Nature - STEWARDSHIP CREED

We are sentient and incarnate beings of the Living Universe personified,
spiritual and physical stewards and healers of damaged environments.

We recognize the inherent link between our Creator and the paradise that has been bestowed upon us
to steward and that the purpose of life is to manifest in ever more diverse and complex forms,
absorbing and transforming the environment in order to create and maintain a Web of Life
throughout the known and unknown Universe.

We celebrate the inborn, inherent, and immanent Divinity of Nature. As Stewards, it is our path
and purpose to nurture Divine Nature by establishing sacred sanctuaries for life
- consecrated ground, holy havens, wildlife refuges, genetic preserves and parks for
flora and fauna, tree temples, sacred groves, eco-villages and arks for nature
- where we might reclaim, regreen, replant, restore, and regenerate the Web of Life,
wherever it might be torn.

We recognize that the names by which diverse people call the Living Universe personified,
and the customs by which we might celebrate, are many and varied. We recognize and honor
each non-violent custom as a valid path within and as a part of the whole
- all that ever was, is, and will be - infinite and eternal, manifest and unmanifest,
animate and inanimate, mortal and immortal.

We pledge that we shall not discriminate against any person or group of people based on
their skin color, race, gender, genetics, sexual orientation, national origin, cultural background,
religious or political affiliation, or other circumstance of birth and upbringing.

We pledge that we will neither cause nor participate in any public slander, verbal attacking,
or physical violence against any other member or members for their traditional and/or
non traditional beliefs and practices regarding personal and interpersonal family structure
and intimate relationships: monogamous, polyamorous, or otherwise.

Furthermore, We respect the natural right of each  Steward to personally practice, promote, teach,
and otherwise share all aspects of the non-violent and non-polluting arts and sciences,
sacred crafts, and spiritual magics; recognizing these as essential manifestations and
valid additions to the unfoldment of the Living Universe.

As Stewards of the AEON we pledge to uphold this Creed, to love each other and nature,
and to avoid violating the environment or its inhabitants through inconsiderate, unnecessary
or reckless verbal and/or physical violence, killing, or pollution: chemical, mechanical,
biological, radioactive, or otherwise.

We pledge that we will not steal, abuse, or do violence to common or private property,
respecting in all ways the owner’s expressed will and wishes.

We pledge that we will not bring any firearms and explosive devices (exempting legal fireworks)
on AEON property; nor shall we turn any tool into a weapon or use that weapon
to do harm to self or other.
 

LOVE IS THE LAW  steward signature _______________________________
 

submitted by George Douvris

 

A Gospel and Granola Bond

  • Two radically different sets of volunteers arrived in post-Katrina Mississippi to feed the hungry, and their lives were changed forever.

  • By Elizabeth Mehren, Times Staff Writer

    WAVELAND, Miss. — Days after Hurricane Katrina hit, they began cooking togethe r in a grocery store parking lot: evangelical Christians from Texas and Rainbow Family flower children from all over.

    Soon they were serving 1,000 free meals a day at their cafe housed in a domed tent. Side by side, members of this improbable alliance worked nonstop, helping the people of what was once a scenic beach town.

    Gradually, barriers melted. The evangelicals overlooked the hippies' unusual attire, outlandish humor and persistent habit of hugging total strangers. The hippies nodded politely when the church people cited Scripture. The bonds formed at Waveland Village have surprised both groups.

    "We are Methodists, Episcopalians and Baptists, along with various and sundry other Christian groups," said Fay Jones, an organizer of the Bastrop (Texas) Ministerial Alliance. "Did we ever think we would have such a wonderful relationship with hippies? No."

    Brad Stone, an emergency medical technician from the Rainbow Family, called the Christian-hippie coalition his new community. He explained: "It has been unbelievable. We are all so close. I am actually dreading leaving."

    But nearly three months after they got here, the Rainbow Family volunteers and the Texas church delegation are preparing to head home. They will serve a grand banquet on Thanksgiving Day — turkey with all the trimmings, which at the Waveland Village Cafe includes steamed seaweed. Over the holiday weekend they will hold a parade.

    Then the church folks will hop in their pickup trucks and the hippies will climb into their psychedelic school buses. Both sides say they have been forever changed b y the experience.

    "They are as amazed as we are," said Pete Jones, who with his wife organized the ministerial group. "We have all learned so much."

    The Christians from about a dozen churches near Austin arrived first, four days after the hurricane hit Aug. 29, when the roads to Waveland were barely passable. Jones, 67, said they were drawn by God to the asphalt in front of a demolished supermarket.

    When the volunteers began cooking, famished storm victims emerged out of nowhere. Some were naked, having lost every stitch of clothing to Katrina. All were so hungry that the Texans began running out of food. They decided to pray.

    "We thought we'd better be specific, so we prayed for hot dogs, because they could be cut up to feed a lot of people," Fay Jones said. "About the time we said 'Amen,' a guy drives up with a truck filled with 2,600 hot dogs. That was the beginning of the miracles around here."

    The next wondrous event occurred when the Rainbo w Family appeared. The ministerial group was exhausted from nonstop cooking for a crowd that multiplied with every meal. Hippies with dreadlocks and body piercings poured out of a bus painted like a Crayola box.

    "We set up two 10-by-10 pop-up tents and started cooking," said 25-year-old Clovis Siemon, an organic farmer and filmmaker from Wisconsin. "We were trying to find someplace to fit in, somewhere to be useful."

    Aaron Funk, an Arthur Murray dance instructor from Berkeley, also was among the first Rainbow Family volunteers here. Funk, 33, said his group was well prepared for the effort after decades of Rainbow Family gatherings on mountaintops and in national forests.

    With tens of thousands of "brothers and sisters" scattered around the world, the Rainbow Family calls itself the largest "non-organization" of "nonmembers" on the planet. There are no rules, no dues and no officers — just a website (strictly nonofficial, the group stresses) that promotes the bel ief that "peace and love are a great thing, and there isn't enough of that in this world."

    Funk said the Katrina disaster response marked the Rainbow Family's first major volunteer effort. The call for help went out on cellphones and the Internet.

    "We figured it was a social obligation," he said. "We already had the working knowledge of feeding large numbers of people. We got here, and the sense of desperation and urgency was off the charts. There was no time to talk about it. It was just service, time to do what we came here to do."

    But Funk did find time for something other than cooking. He became the village dance coach, leading conga lines and salsa sessions from a makeshift stage framed by plastic palm trees and shimmery streamers.

    Over the months, volunteers for both groups rotated in and out, about 40 at any one time for the Rainbow Family and 50 for the ministerial alliance.

    As the village mushroomed, the health tent Stone launched became a full-scale clinic, featuring massage and herbal remedies along with a well-stocked pharmacy. Nearby, the evangelicals set up a "store" to provide free supplies and clothing for storm victims. Everything was donated — another miracle, the Texas volunteers say.

    Each day, to keep up the giddy buzz inside the geodesic dome cafe, a Rainbow Family volunteer known as Sister Soup had the whole tent sing "Happy Birthday" to some nonexistent person. Impromptu concerts occurred most evenings, sometimes when someone just felt like singing. Movie nights focused on comedies, or escapist fare like "Star Wars."

    On "Freaky Fridays," Rainbow Family volunteers raided the clothing donation bins and donned the weirdest outfits they could create. That meant burly men in billowing dresses and women in maybe six skirts at once.

    "You feel relaxed here," said Betty Celino, who lost almost everything when Katrina swept five feet of water through her house. "Everybody is nice and f riendly. Strangers hug you and ask you how your day is and if you need anything."

    Celino, 38, looked down at a plate filled with pulled pork, coleslaw, potatoes and something decidedly green. "Plus," Celino said cheerfully, "you get seaweed."

    The seaweed made its way to Waveland via Ramona Rubin of the Rainbow Family. When she left Santa Cruz, a woman at the farmers' market there handed her a suitcase to take to Mississippi, filled with lustrous green kelp. Rubin, 28, is now known as Sister Seaweed.

    "Very nutritious, helps you to detoxify," she said, spooning a hearty helping onto a diner's plate. She looked up and admitted: "I'm absolutely amazed that people are eating this. There is just this real openness."

    With a graduate degree in public health, Rubin also has gathered epidemiological data on hurricane victims, and presented her preliminary findings to a council that included a U.S. Army officer.

    "Pretty amazing," she said. "Me and a colonel."

    Standing next to her in the lunch service line, Siemon reminded her of another unlikely encounter at Waveland Village.

    "The first week we were here," he said, "we had a guy from the Pentagon sitting in a circle with us, chanting 'Om.' It was pretty cool."

    Still, after nearly three months, the organizers of Waveland Village say it is time to move on. Traditional stores and restaurants are reopening here, and though the landscape remains decimated, a shaky new normality is taking hold.

    "Our purpose is not to detract from the local economy," Pete Jones said.

    Siemon said he would be returning to his organic farm with far more than he brought to Waveland.

    "What have I gained from this?" he said. "Everything. I've gained the experience of working with other humans in a wall-less, prejudice-less environment where the sole purpose is to help other humanity.

    "That's something not many people get to do."

    submitted by George Douvris to VISION COUNCIL MAGAZINE


    calibirthvacation019.jpg

    poem
     
    Only days lie between the idea
     and the decision behind it
    only physical barriers divide my soul
    and its source
    (and only when I let them)
    like every moment of my past
    was only building
    this future
     
    i feel changes in the wind
    soon, wings polished, i will take flight
    there are four directions and a million
    possibilities
     
    i'm finding keys under many doormats,
    but i still sleep in the woods
    my stride grows softer as acceptance
    of the Great Mysery stills my thunder
     
    trees teach my will to bend while stones
    show these thoughts how
    to let Patience roll over them
    with the river i gently weep, out of happy
    sadness
     
    no matter where i roam, who i love, or
    when, i know
    i will still love the moon.
     
    justice, 2003

    whitebuffalopsychedlic.jpg

    what is easy, is easy to know; what is simple, is easy to follow. he who is easy to know attains fealty, he who is easy to follow attains works. he who possesses attachment can endure for long; he who possesses work can endure for long; he who possesses works can become great. to endure is the disposition of the sage; greatness is the field of action of the sage
     
    i ching, richard wilhelm translation, p.286

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