The words above, Umati Tulpehauken, translate to Dearest Grandmother Turtle Island, or simply EARTH. This beautiful island in space which the Creator has given into our care.
It is appalling to realize how inconsiderate of Her, many of today's people have become.
Perhaps it is time to remind the people of one little fact. If you are to assume that we human beings are the dominate species upon the the Earth, then you must realize the responsibility that comes with that role.
Below is a picture of Umati's garden. It was a very special garden, a medicine wheel in reality, where Humsa and Umati and I use to spend much time in prayer and meditation. I cannot go into the religious aspects of this garden, but I will go so far as to say that the turtle in the center represented the Earth and was depicted there at the center to show the Creator how much we the people appreciated her. This alter was made of slabbed blue shale and had a hollowed out inside into which prayer bundles could be dropped. I still use this garden, for it lies buried in my heart.
Perhaps this small poem shall describe my feelings towards this wheel.
DANCING IN THE GARDEN
Within Umati's garden I dance on joyous feathered feet, amid loved ones singing to my heart drum's rythmic beat.
Flowing about Mother's realm, within, without, upon, with mystery's hands upon the helm and spirit guiding on.
To be of service to those to come, all relatives and kind. Staring straight with upraised arms, open heart and mind.
In serving out my remaining days as the Creator's drum, echoing His loving beat, preparing those to come.
Knowing when this circle ends, having served them well, I too may serve within the wheel where ancestors dwell.
To see those grandchildren, to await their reaching hand, and helping them with love, and wisdom if I can.
To leave this life with happiness, knowing I did my share, in passing Umati's garden into our grandchildren's care.
I know there's lots of work ahead, and it may take awhile, but we will be rewarded in the end, seeing the Turtle smile.
Blue Turtle
Perhaps this next poem will let you know more about my personal feeling towards this beautiful Mother of ours.
UMATI
Grandmother behold your walking dusts, as I stroll across your flesh.
And forgive my being human and for making you such a mess.
I know in my heart that this dust wasn't lent to do you so much harm.
But I, like so many of my kind, became seduced by indolence's charm.
I too, drove cars on asphalt highways, which befouled your finesse.
And I also lived in houses of lumber, that causes forest such distress.
Nor can I give you an excuse, for there was a conscience to be alarmed.
Reminding me of each misstep I took and of each thing that I harmed.
I cannot claim that I am faultless or blame others for this foolishness.
I used you badly throughout this life, just as thoughtlessly as the rest.
But just knowing this doesn't change things, that's why I came to you.
Please Umati help me make things right, please show me what to do.
Perhaps I could remind Grandchildren that their bodies are your dust.
Or perhaps I should remind them of how you delete things if you must.
I could tell them stories of many things, I could talk until I'm blue.
But in the end they'd only be like me, when all the talking is through.
They may never hear your soft murmurs of love, as they walk your crust.
Too busy living to think you exist, until in anger your storms are thrust.
They, like me, may wait until they're too old, to realize all that they knew.
Too late to make the many changes, only that energy of youth might do.
But perhaps they will listen to their conscience and realize as they must.
That Creator placed this life within your earth, and put you in our trust.
If so, they might do their best to meet that test, and make you well again.
And have no need as I to seek forgiveness, when their lives come to an end.
Blue Turtle
As you see, I have a great respect for this earth of ours. Now I realize that many of the indigenous people of Turtle Island get upset when someone who is not of pure blood passes on anything of a ceremonial nature. They come up with such derogatory names as twinky or plastics. But I was always taught that gifts were like love, of no use to the individual unless shared with others. I am too old to change now and besides, these are gifts to be shared. And they were not given with any strings attached, no great voice saying, "Give only to these people!" or any other such thing. I am not selling anything. I am not even saying, do this, or that. I am simply sharing with the world what I have been given to share. I attempt to emulate no other, only to be myself. For in someones great quote, "To your own self be true.", I also find our grandparents words, "Walk your talk." Thus do I do. I shall be me for the rest of my days, despite the opinions of others.
So! Who is this person who goes by the name Blue Turtle?
A man, like any other man. Born of these dusts of earth. This body is nothing more than those nuetrients my Mother ate and what I have eaten since birth. It is no different than any other body born of those dust, irregardless of tint or belief. This gift of life that was given into its care, is no more or less than that life given unto all the living. I am one with all life, given to understand this and walk in such a way as to honour it.
Perhaps this next poem will help you to understand.
Plans of Man
I am but the composite of my many ancestor's genes, only a partial answer to all their dreams and schemes.
With a body composition so proven adept with time, a crafty computable brain and ever inquisitive mind.
This body's skin, hair and eyes, regardless of the tint, make humanistic equality with others ever prevalent,
Forever the individual, this selfhood inviolately mine, yet needing to live in harmony with others of my kind.
We were born for thinking, to rationalize and grow, for raising of our children, teaching them all we know.
Knowing that perfection is a pinnacle never obtained, when ignorance nullifies instantly everything we gain.
Our days so blessed with unities and varieties as well, are by far to few to be wasting in a retrospective Hell.
From slavery to the whims of others, we must be ever free, but never free from our duties or from responsibilities.
We live each day as a new beginning and the very last, plan for future generations learning from our past.
We must act a single unit within this race called man, learning from our past mistakes, improving all we can.
Those future living monuments are all that will remain, no matter how much we scheme, thinking we can gain.
The Creator made all in beauty, began a masterful plan, it's continuity is not assured, but lies there in our hand.
Blue Turtle
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