Something to think about

I´ve been doing more medi­a­tion than I´m used to these past days and weeks and I´m really feel­ing the ben­e­fits from it.

It´s kind of funny because when I take time to relax or med­i­tate I actu­ally get a lot more done, am more focused, and most impor­tant am very happy. Life is beau­ti­ful, and never hos­tile. But this is not really what I wanted to write about.

When I take a walk in nature, most often by the sea­side here in Keflavík, I cant help but admire and just be in awe of it. For one rea­son or another it some­times brings my mind to a let­ter that the indian chief Sea­tle wrote to the pres­i­dent of the USA wanted to buy land from them. It´s very pro­found. I first heard it while watch­ing inter­views with Joseph Campel, he did a read­ing of the letter.

I just love this let­ter and find it realy brings things into per­spec­tive when think­ing about earth, landown­er­ship and stuff like that. So I really want to share it with you in case you´ve never seen it.

Enjoy
Namaste
Gummisig

Let­ter of Indian chief Seat­tle to his peo­ple
The pres­i­dent in Wash­ing­ton sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? the land? The idea is strange to us. Every part of this earth is sacred to my peo­ple, every shin­ing pine nee­dle, every shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow. All are holy in the mem­ory and expe­ri­ence of my peo­ple. We are a part of this earth and it is a part of us. The per­fume flow­ers are our sis­ters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our broth­ers. Each ghostly reflec­tion in the clear waters of the lake tells of mem­o­ries of events in the life of my peo­ple. The water’s mur­murs are the voice of my father’s father. The rivers are our broth­ers. They carry our canoes and feed our children.

If we sell you our land, remem­ber that the air is pre­cious to us. That the air shares its spirit with all the life it sup­ports. The wind, which gave our father his first breath, also receives his last sigh. This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are con­nected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. What­ever he does to the web he does to himself.

Your des­tiny is a mys­tery to us. What will hap­pen when the buf­falo are all slaugh­tered? What will hap­pen when the secret cor­ners of the for­est are heavy with the scent of many men? And the view of the ripe hills are blot­ted by talk­ing wires? The end of liv­ing and the begin­ning of survival!

When the last red man has van­ished with his wilder­ness, and his mem­o­ries are only the shadow of a cloud mov­ing across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any spirit of my peo­ple left?

We love this earth as a new­born loves his mother’s heart­beat. So, if we sell you our land love it as we have loved it. Care for it as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the mem­ory of the land as it is when you receive it. Pre­serve the land for all chil­dren and love it as god loves us all.

One thing we know: there is only one god. No man, be he red man or white man, can be apart. We are broth­ers after all.