Love Your Life

Apache indian-story-teller[1]

So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart
Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view,
and demand that they respect yours. Love your life,
perfect your life, beautify all things in your life.
Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people.
Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.
Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend,
even a stranger, when in a lonely place.
Show respect to all people and bow to none.
When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the food
and for the joy of living.
If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself.
Abuse no one and nothing, for abuse turns the wise ones
to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.
When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts
are filled with fear of death,
so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time
to live their lives over again in a different way.
Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.

source: Tecumseh, Shawnee
image: Eddie Two Hawks/image collection/shaman shares story

originally posted October 19, 2009 inĀ “Great Thoughts Form Great Americans”



Friend of Wakinyan,
I pass the pipe to you first.
Circling I pass to you who dwell with the Father.
Circling pass to beginning day.
Circling pass to the beautiful one.
Circling I complete the four quarters and the time.
I pass the pipe to the Father with the sky.
I smoke with the Great Spirit.
Let us have a blue day.

source: Sioux
image: Bing Images/Lakota Sioux Pipes

A Product of Our Mind


Our lives are a product of our mind.
What we are today is a result of what we
thought yesterday. What we think today
influences what happens to us tomorrow.
Our entire lives are products of our mind.

source: The Dhammapada
image: Eddie Two Hawks/Eddie’s garden/Red Rose

Endless Cycles


Through endless cycles of time, I
have resolved all things in Me. Yet
I do none of this. I am the Watcher
who watches the drama unfold.

source: The Bhagavad Gita
image: Eddie Two Hawks/Eddie’s image collection/Stonehenge

Pointing to the Sky


The landscape looked singularly clean and pure and dry, the air like
a pure glass, being laid over the picture, the trees so tidy, and
stripped of their of leaves; the meadows and pastures, clothed with
clean dry grass, looked as if they had been swept; ice on the water
and winter in the air; but yet not a particle of snow on the ground.
The woods, divested in great part of their leaves, are being ventilated.
It is the season of perfect works, of hard, tough, ripe twigs, not of
tender buds and leaves. The leaves have made their wood, and a myriad
new withes stand up all around pointing to the sky, able to survive the
cold. It is only the perennial that you see, the iron age of the year.

source: Henry David Thoreau, Journal, November 25, 1850
image: Bing Images/Bare Tree Branches


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