Shkote'nsi (Fire Spirit) Home Page

Welcome to Onefeather Journal!

This is the cyber-repository for the various writings, interests and activities of Onefeather/Chris Anderson. My Native American heritage, my spiritual adventures and my social causes are collected here, and frequently updated... as well as the archived blogtalk radio programs, interview files and personal ruminations.

Over the last sixty plus years I've watched as the world has evolved from a conglobation of separate and uncommunicative cultural islands to the era of the internet, a unifying epoch of human awakening, enlightenment and self-discovery. It is my wish that my observations of the journey I've enjoyed through time and evolution be shared and referenced for future ancestors. Hopefully this will become a site that will edify and amuse as well as be a source of further bonding between all my fellow pilgrims here on Turtle Island.

Have fun exploring and please send me feedback, suggestions or connections to relevant additional resources that I might add to Onefeather Journal.

My book, The Story: A Song of Silver Crow has it's own site and you can explore that at: http://www.songofsilvercrow.com
My website for humor and levity can be found at: http://www.martyswingnuts.com

Our Philosophy:

Dr. Charles A. Eastman, born Ohiyesa (Santee Sioux)
Chapter 4: Barbarism and the Moral Code, The Soul of the Indian: An Interpretation, 1911:

One great difference in our ways is that, like the early Christians, the Indian was a socialist. The tribe claimed the ground, the rivers and the game; only personal property was owned by the individual, and even that, it was considered a shame to greatly increase. For they held that greed grew into crime, and much property made men forget the poor.

Our answer to this is that without great property, that is, power in the hands of one man, most of the great business enterprises of the world could not have been; especially enterprises that required the prompt action impossible in a national commission. All great steps in national progress have been through some one man, to whom the light came, and to whom our system gave the power to realize his idea. The Indian's answer is, that all good things would have been established by the nation as it needed them; anything coming sooner comes too soon. The price of a very rich man is many poor ones, and peace of mind is worth more than railways and skyscrapers.

In the Indian life there was no great wealth, so also poverty and starvation were unknown, excepting under the blight of national disaster, against which no system can insure. Without a thought of shame or mendicancy, the young, helpless and aged all were cared for by the nation that, in the days of their strength, they were taught and eager to serve.

Thus: Avarice, said to be the root of all evil, and the dominant characteristic of the [European] races, was unknown among Indians, indeed it was made impossible by the system they had developed. .
.

Ekwabet
(Watching Over)
Potawatomi
“Listen, for I speak but once...”

As I gaze across the waters of the shimmering Fox River, I see the smoke of thousands of teepees where I once saw only gentle prairies and lush forests abundant with game.

Many moons ago, my people were among the first voices to be heard in this land. We came to live in peace with nature. We hunted and fished. We married, bore children, and died at our appointed time. The bones of my people mingle here with the earth. We loved this valley.

It was with great sadness that we had to leave our home. We were few and the settlers were many. The spirits of my ancestors have never left this great valley, and occasionally you may glimpse our shadows or feel our presence as we tread silently along the shores of our beloved Fox River.

Our final prayer as we left our land was that you would love this valley as much as we loved it. We were one with the earth, sky, and water. We were the Neshnabek, the “people” of the valley.

WHITE BUFFALO WOMAN
~ By Onefeather ~

She went into the woods with
three strips of silver rawhide thirty inches long,
from a barren doe killed to feed her people

There she found feathers from
the snowy owl,
Messenger from the west.

These things she braided
into her hair, by light of the
full moon.

She sought to understand her womanhood,
The mystery in the night
from which all life springs.

She drank sweet water
that sprang up from the earth

And sang songs to Orion... place of origin.
        As the moon grew near the western horizon

With first light on the eastern treetops
    Her spirit was carried into the
        darkness from which all life springs

And a voice enfolded her
A voice in many tongues caressed her soul.
It gave her the secret of that which was within her

“Life springs to light in response to love.
Love is that from which you come
and to which you return.

You are the vessel
once filled and flowing
evermore.”