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Native Psalms
. . . . . . .


Holding fast to their hearts
the poetry of the creation,
remembered is how
the act of life itself
is a prayer that leads one
to vision and
the way of the people.


Nest of the Thunderbeings

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Their nests are of the dreams of man   
they are the creatures that fly closest to God

from the sky they echo the dual nature of man   

they hear the songs of the earth   
her tears and her joy
they hear the songs of man   

his tears and his joy
medicine people know of them   

the tremors of their presence in song and ceremony
from the fires of many circles the visions of our dreaming hearts
climb to the nest of the thunderbeings


Howard Schroeder copyright 1998


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v  i  s  i  o   n    m  o  u  n  t   a  i  n

without a vision the people perish
how will I find mine?
who will I be to my people?
where will I walk in life's circle?

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upon the mountain I thirst for a dream
I hunger for a vision
struggle, get past what the body wants
pain but mind is sharp
I am lower than the ground
looking up at the ants
even they walk with purpose

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hummingbird circles me
body is quiet heart is flying
I circle the mountain
like a floating stream
blue eagle splits the sky
and my prayers fly through

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day, night and twilight
morning star explains the view

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coming down from the mountain
my heart is imprinted with a view
my mind with a purpose
my path with a meaning

Howard Schroeder, © 1998, 1987



S  o  n  g  s     f  r  o  m    T  u  r  t  l  e     L  o  d  g  e

Close to the earth
ancient rythm in the soil
that we're formed from

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Offering songs to the father of all spirits
In the turtle lodge
our hearts go out to the four winds
offering our breadth of song
to all the kingdoms that walk complete
for we are not complete
we must ask   we must pray   to find our way
Drumbeat guides our heart
water on hissing stones cleanse our minds
honest words cleanse our hearts

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Our songs and prayer interwine
dancing in the marriage of fire and water
We become aware of our spirit bodies
that sing in the presence of our Creator

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Howard Schroeder, © 1998, 1986



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After the fall and dispersion of the great Cahokia Empire
there arose the mighty tribes of the Illini.
Legend had it that the great Temple Mound City of
the Cahokia fell into disentigration when the temple priests invited ruin upon their
society  by abandoning the spiritual community of their city-state in a quest for
power and knowledge. They turned to the water spirit of the Piasa which
inhabited the mighty waters of the Mississippi and gave it wings through their
greed and diregard of the natural order clearly revealed by their prophets.

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Upon the demise and eventual abandonment of the great Mound City,
the Piasa retreated to the bluffs high above the Mississippi River where it made
it's dwelling in a cave. Many a hunter and warrior had pursued it only to end
up lining its nest with their bones.

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The  fierce and powerful bird could not
destroy, and would not even approach the villages of the Illini tribes
because their communities were closely bound and sacred. The  bird could
only pick out lone individuals unaware.

A great chief for his people, Oatago, grew concerned about its presence among
his people and determined to fast and pray for revelation. His vision quest yielded
the knowledge and discernment that the Piasa was indeed stealth  and artful in spreading
fear and dissention among the communities of the Illini. Oatogo consulted the Elders
and the spiritually wise on how to defeat this adversary of his people. Once again
he fasted and prayed. Revealed to him in his dream was a vision of  twenty
arrows piercing the darkness and striking a blood red moon in the center.

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Upon meditation and the scrutiny of the Councel it was revealed
that it would take twenty warriors who excelled in strength of character,
faith and skill. These men would haveto act as one heart,
one mind, and one spirit to overcome the Piasa. Every tribe would be
searched and contests held to reveal the candidates.

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Oatago lead his warriors to the nest of the Piasa and placed them in concealment.
Every mans strength was now as one. Oatago stood in full view to attract the Piasa
who preyed easily upon individuals. However Oatago stood there with his feet planted
firmly on the ground knowing twenty hearts stood in his macassins. The Piasa's shadow
soon fell upon the rocks and Oatago chanted his death song.
Great Spirit whose breath I carry, make our twenty hearts brave and my people
strong in spirit. I offer my breath back to you so that my people may live.

The Piasa did not discern that twenty warriors were concealed below, for they
were of one heart, one mind & one spirit. And so the fierce bird monster sought
to add Oatago to its throne of bones. Darting suddendly from its glaring glide
it descended upon Oatago.

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Scarcely had the Piasa reached its prey when every warrior released his arrow in unison
striking the bird under its wing, directly piercing its heart like a blood red moon.
The Piasa uttered a fearsome shriek as it struck the ledge and tumbled into the river.
It was swallowed by the Mississippi and not a single bone was ever recovered.

The Illini painted its image upon the bluff as a reminder that they must continue to
stand as one and pursue the strength of character, faith and skill that their warriors
had demonstrated to keep the Piasa from ever emerging from the shifting channels
of the great Mississippi.

In 1673 French explorers Louis Jolliet and Father Marquette a Jesuit priest
encountered the painting of the Piasa and noted how disturbing the
depiction of the dragon-like creature was.

Howard Schroeder copyright 1998



River Meets the Sea
This painting is dreamlike in it's youthful approach to catching
he essence of a summertime ecstacy . . .

When I was only known as a second heartbeat
waiting to join an ocean of souls
dreaming of an emerald forest
birthing a river thst finally finds the sea

Our deepest dreams are vernal pools
seeping towards trickling creeks
spilling into flourishing streams
joining rivers
greater rivers merging flowing mass
moving onto the mouth of the sea

Kneeling at the ocean's edge
splashing salty water upon my face
scooping up sparkling diamonds
and tossing them into the sun
glistening sea turtles circle
calling the rivers home
the confluence of many streams
celebrated arrival

Howard Schroeder, © 1987


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