When you speak and your longing is for the ages
to remember the intent of your voice
Speak not of cruel limitations of fractions of time saying "minutes,"
rather speak of "moments"
saying it with all of your beauty
Say not "hours" or "days" or "years,"
rather speak of the soft and natural saying "seasons."
And when you speak of change,
think first of the change in nature from season, to eon, to forever.
Neither speak of the weakest link of the strongest chain
for this only illuminates the flaws of technology.
rather, seek the weaknesses of the rainbow
...and if you discover one,
discuss this with people of good will.
seeking to improve that flaw
Don't waste precious seasons
wondering of weaknesses in technology
Sul'ma'ejote
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"Hay" (thought - the old ones called it 'thinkings'); "dutsi" (the actions of thought, thought bubbling like Alka-Seltzer, a churning, a refining); "la"(the outcome of that action, end product)
Hay’dutsi’la (by thinking with the mind)
According to our legends, hay'dutsi (thought) was the "first thing." Then there was tosok'jami (dream) This universe was not present, only hay'dutsi in the vastness. Thought thought and thought, "for a million years or more" and thought itself into voice. Thought thought voice should be pretty so changed to song. Song dreamed and sang "for a million years or more," then that which we are familiar with as the universe slowly began to appear.
Hay'dutsi'la means "by thinking." Anthropology will attempt to convince everyone that natives the world over are incapable of thought, but it is that study that in its rush to degrade natives has robbed the world of precious thought and dreams. Thought is the driving force of this hemispheric's indigenous, and has been for a very long time, dreams and thought. With this blog I expect to contact thinkers and dreaming children.
The European concept of native people being incapable of thought, by the Study of Man, and confused by the God-concepts that formed European thought, spread across the indigenous homelands, a blanket of hegemony, wounded by rote education, neglected in the realm of the great thinkers, Assigned a special place on the ladder of civilization, one step backwards and downwards, rendered mute by higher education and understood by the masses as frivolous or nonexistent, has caused native thought patterns the world-over to seek refuge in silence.
In that silence the study-of-man then finds a great arena where continuous and irreparable societal damage is constantly inflicted by the “learned” experts of the modern world.
Hay'dutsi'la means "by thinking." Anthropology will attempt to convince everyone that natives the world over are incapable of thought, but it is that study that in its rush to degrade natives has robbed the world of precious thought and dreams. Thought is the driving force of this hemispheric's indigenous, and has been for a very long time, dreams and thought. With this blog I expect to contact thinkers and dreaming children.
The European concept of native people being incapable of thought, by the Study of Man, and confused by the God-concepts that formed European thought, spread across the indigenous homelands, a blanket of hegemony, wounded by rote education, neglected in the realm of the great thinkers, Assigned a special place on the ladder of civilization, one step backwards and downwards, rendered mute by higher education and understood by the masses as frivolous or nonexistent, has caused native thought patterns the world-over to seek refuge in silence.
In that silence the study-of-man then finds a great arena where continuous and irreparable societal damage is constantly inflicted by the “learned” experts of the modern world.
Please support Hay'dutsi'la; many thanks for your kindness
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Darryl "Babe" Wilson
In 1939 Sul'ma'ejote, aka Darryl Babe Wilson, me, was born in Qatsade (Fall River Valley) on the north bank of Sul'ma'ejote (Fall River) at Fall River Mills, a stone toss from It'ajuma (Pit River). Like many native families at that time, my family shadowed in and out of civilization. When I was in the second grade in the Fall River Valley, my mother was killed in a lumber truck-automobile accident. The family shattered, the state caught us and we were scattered in California, but out of our homeland. Summers we managed to run back to our homeland, our people, the dream of life and the ancient dance of nature's powers.
In my gnarled and old age, I look back across the ages and see with my heart that the wonder and magic of children can very well be the emotion that manages to hold earth close enough to sun to make life livable. My parting thought to this earth is captured in my last book length manuscript: Two Moon.
Click here for a more complete version of my bio.
In my gnarled and old age, I look back across the ages and see with my heart that the wonder and magic of children can very well be the emotion that manages to hold earth close enough to sun to make life livable. My parting thought to this earth is captured in my last book length manuscript: Two Moon.
Click here for a more complete version of my bio.
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