The Great Tree of Peace

Welcome to Turtle Island

 

Notice to the World that this simple way  is the way.

June 11, 1971 the end of the occupation of Alcatraz

Fort Laramie Treaty  We will not walk in the streets like dogs

http://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?doc=42&page=transcript

http://www.nlm.nih.gov/nativevoices/exhibition/healing-ways/medicine-ways/introduction.html

The Great Tree of Peace.

Peace is Law, Law is Peace:

We have now completed our power so that we the Five Nations Confederacy shall in the future have one body, one mind, and one heart. History of the Five Nations 122909

 

If any evil should befall us in the future, we shall stand or fall united as one man.”

Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless.
Dead, did I say? – There is no death, only a change of worlds.

 http://www.ratical.org/many_worlds/6Nations/EoL/

The story of the Peacemaker and the Tree of Peace as we know it today originated in a time of terrible conflict. It was a time when people forgot to be thankful, and a time when almost all of the people had strayed from the Creator. This is the dark period and perhaps the most violent time of our history. Once again discontentment settled in our people and bloody wars took place in every village.
A vicious cycle of war and revenge was running out of control among the Five Nations. It was amidst all of this chaos that the Creator sent a messenger of peace to be born amongst his people. The Traditional Haudenosaunee people consider his actual name to be sacred and therefore never use it. He was called the “Peacemaker.” His mission was to restore love, peace and harmony back to the people. To do this, he proposed a set of laws which the people and Nations could live in peace and unity. It was a system of self-rule and was guided by moral principles called the Great Law of Peace.

The Peacemaker was born a Huron, to a young virgin woman who had not yet gone through her puberty rites. The young woman had not yet reached her time for the ceremony when she became pregnant. Her mother was worried of what the people of the village would say, so she hid her away during her pregnancy until she gave birth. She convinced her daughter that they had to get rid of the baby. The grandmother tried three times to kill the baby and failed each time. She then realized that he must be someone special and with special powers and knew that they should raise him carefully.

As he got older, it was realized that he had great powers of persuasion and of good mind. When he reached manhood it was time for him to leave on his mission to restore peace and unity to the warring villages to the east. He built a canoe of white stone and set out on his journey to establish a great peace. All the people of the village gathered to see him off and were amazed at the sight, for they had never seen a stone float before. They noticed how swift that canoe was moving as it disappeared into the distance. We are told that this event took place on the northern shores of Lake Ontario.

The first person to accept and embrace the words of the Great Peace was a woman by the name of Jikonsahseh. Her place was a neutral zone for anyone passing through. Even war parties, who would leave all their weapons outside of her dwelling. She fed them and offered them a resting place. As he spoke his words she broke down in tears for she had never heard anything so beautiful and said she’d follow it for the rest of her days. Because she accepted and embraced the words of peace, the Peacemaker told her that at the successful formation of the Great Law of Peace and for all time, she would be the symbol of the leadership of the women, which is the Clan Mothers. In this way she would never be forgotten.

The Peacemaker visited the Mohawks first. There he was to confront the most evil of them. He had to change their minds and behavior to accept the Great Peace. He was often tested and had to prove himself. Because the Kanienkehaka people were such a fierce and warring Nation, the Peacemaker worked very long and hard to convince them to accept the Great Law of Peace. With his powers of persuasion he won them over. He then left for the other Nations of the Iroquois, the Seneca, Oneidas, Cayuga and Onondaga.

The Peacemaker met two special people who were instrumental in the establishment of the Great Peace. One of these men was Ayonwatha, whose family had been killed by the evil and powerful sorcerer, Tadodarho, the other man.

The Peacemaker used the first Condolence Ceremony on Ayonwatha to remove his grief using Wampum shells. This event was the first time the Wampum was used. Wampum is used to remember words, ceremonies and agreements, and was not money. However, Wampum was used as an exchange tool. The Peacemaker asked Ayonwatha to be his spokesperson and together they traveled to spread the message of peace.

His travels brought him to the Onondaga Nation, where he met with a lot of resistance from the evil Tadodarho. Tadodarho was an evil man and is described as having snakes in his head and a crooked body. This symbolized a very evil person and because of his evil deeds it reflected on him. Tadodarho would not give in to the many attempts by the Peacemaker to get him to accept the peace.

The Peacemaker and Ayonwatha moved on to the other Nations and were successful in convincing them to accept the peace. He then gathered the forty-nine men whom he had convinced to accept the peace to converge back to the center and there they all worked together on the evil mind of Tadodarho of the Onondaga Nation. They tried many times in many ways to convince him that peace was the only way, and many times they failed. Finally all the forty-nine men sang the Great Song of Peace, the ‘Hai, Hai’. The song kept in focus with the one purpose of winning over the evil mind of Tadodarho. Once Tadodarho’s mind was pacified, his body straightened and the snakes were combed from his hair.

The Peacemaker offered him a special position in the Confederacy. That position was to watch over the Fire on behalf of all the 5 Nations. The offer appealed to him and he accepted. He agreed to live in peace and tend the fire to make sure that it would burn forever.

After successfully winning over Tadodarho, the Peacemaker then looked upon the men and saw that they still carried their weapons. He then said that they needed a symbol that would remind them of the promise made to each other, the promise of peace. As he looked around, he saw this very tall tree. He thought that because the tree was so tall, it could be seen from distant places, and because the top of the tree pierced the sky, attention would be drawn to it.

On the branches of this very tall tree, the needles are in clusters of five. He used this as a symbol of the Five Nations being bound together as one. He took some needles off the branch and told them that even with the changes of the seasons, the tree stays green for all time. So shall the Great Peace stay among the Five Nations, for all time.

He then uprooted the tree and it created a cavity. He instructed the men to cast down their weapons of war into the cavity to bury their greed, hatred and jealousy. The tree was then replaced and the Peacemaker then said:

“Into the depths of the earth, down into the deep under earth currents of water flowing into unknown regions, we cast all weapons of strife. We bury them from sight forever and plant again the tree. Thus shall all Great Peace be established and hostilities shall no longer be known between the Five Nations but only peace to a united people.”

The roots that spread out from the tree are called the Great White Roots of Peace, and they spread in the four directions: one to the north, one to the south, one to the east, and one to the west. On top of this Great Tree was placed an Eagle. The meaning of planting the tree symbolizes the Kaienerakowa, Great Peace and Strength. The Eagle symbolizes keeping a watchful eye on the roots and if any evil or danger approaches, he will scream loudly, sounding the alarm and all the Nations of the Confederacy will at once come to the defense and rescue. This symbolizes that everyone has the responsibility to protect the peace.

The Peacemaker then took an arrow from each one of the Five Nations and bound them together. By each Nation contributing an arrow, it symbolized the combining of individual powers into one great power. The union had now been complete, a union which no one can bend or break. The Peacemaker then said:

“We have now completed our power so that we the Five Nations Confederacy shall in the future have one body, one mind, and one heart. If any evil should befall us in the future, we shall stand or fall united as one man.”

Source: firstpeople

see: www.truthpress.org

 

http://www.kyphilom.com/www/seattle.html

Seattle Sunday Star on Oct. 29, 1887, in a column by Dr. Henry A. Smith.
“CHIEF SEATTLE’S 1854 ORATION” – ver . 1
AUTHENTIC TEXT OF CHIEF SEATTLE’S TREATY ORATION 1854

Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds. My words are like the stars that never change.

Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons. The white chief says that Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. ( Read the Albany Plan at http://history.state.gov/milestones/1750-1775/albany-plan )

This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return. His people are many. They are like the grass that covers vast prairies. My people are few.

They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain. The great, and I presume — good, White Chief sends us word that he wishes to buy our land but is willing to allow us enough to live comfortably. This indeed appears just, even generous, for the Red Man no longer has rights that he need respect, and the offer may be wise, also, as we are no longer in need of an extensive country.

There was a time when our people covered the land as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor, but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes that are now but a mournful memory. I will not dwell on, nor mourn over, our untimely decay, nor reproach my paleface brothers with hastening it, as we too may have been somewhat to blame.

Youth is impulsive. When our young men grow angry at some real or imaginary wrong, and disfigure their faces with black paint, it denotes that their hearts are black, and that they are often cruel and relentless, and our old men and old women are unable to restrain them. Thus it has ever been. Thus it was when the white man began to push our forefathers ever westward. But let us hope that the hostilities between us may never return. We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain. Revenge by young men is considered gain, even at the cost of their own lives, but old men who stay at home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose, know better.

Our good father in Washington–for I presume he is now our father as well as yours, since King George has moved his boundaries further north--our great and good father, I say, sends us word that if we do as he desires he will protect us.

His brave warriors will be to us a bristling wall of strength, and his wonderful ships of war will fill our harbors, so that our ancient enemies far to the northward — the Haidas and Tsimshians — will cease to frighten our women, children, and old men.

Then in reality he will be our father and we his children. But can that ever be? Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine! He folds his strong protecting arms lovingly about the paleface and leads him by the hand as a father leads an infant son.

But, He has forsaken His Red children, if they really are His. Our God, the Great Spirit, seems also to have forsaken us.

Your God makes your people wax stronger every day. Soon they will fill all the land. Our people are ebbing away like a rapidly receding tide that will never return.

The white man’s God cannot love our people or He would protect them. They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help. How then can we be brothers? How can your God become our God and renew our prosperity and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness? If we have a common Heavenly Father He must be partial, for He came to His paleface children. We never saw Him. He gave you laws but had no word for His red children whose teeming multitudes once filled this vast continent as stars fill the firmament. No; we are two distinct races with separate origins and separate destinies. There is little in common between us.

To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground. You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret. Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget. The Red Man could never comprehend or remember it. Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors — the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems, and is written in the hearts of our people.

Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb and wander away beyond the stars. They are soon forgotten and never return. Our dead never forget this beautiful world that gave them being. They still love its verdant valleys, its murmuring rivers, its magnificent mountains, sequestered vales and verdant lined lakes and bays, and ever yearn in tender fond affection over the lonely hearted living, and often return from the happy hunting ground to visit, guide, console, and comfort them.

Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun. However, your proposition seems fair and I think that my people will accept it and will retire to the reservation you offer them.

 

Then we will dwell apart in peace, for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be the words of nature speaking to my people out of dense darkness.

It matters little where we pass the remnant of our days. They will not be many. The Indian’s night promises to be dark. Not a single star of hope hovers above his horizon. Sad-voiced winds moan in the distance. Grim fate seems to be on the Red Man’s trail, and wherever he will hear the approaching footsteps of his fell destroyer and prepare stolidly to meet his doom, as does the wounded doe that hears the approaching footsteps of the hunter.

A few more moons, a few more winters, and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit, will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours. But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see.

We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children’s children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.

Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds.

http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=2541

 

Further References …

In regard to further research concerning the North American Indian people, their history and philosophy, their beliefs and legends, there are a growing number of community groups and other sources and endeavours. These include …

http://www.kyphilom.com/www/seattle.html

AUTHENTIC TEXT OF CHIEF SEATTLE’S TREATY ORATION 1854

Source: “Four Wagons West,”
by Roberta Frye Watt, Binsford & Mort, Portland Ore., 1934.
Originally published in the Seattle Sunday Star, Oct. 29 1887.

The text was produced by one “Dr.” Smith, an early settler in Seattle, who took notes as Seattle spoke in the Suquamish dialect of central Puget sound Salish (Lushootseed), and created this text in English from those notes. Smith insisted that his version “contained none of the grace and elegance of the original” The last two sentences of the text here given have been considered for many years to have been part of the original, but are now known to have been added by an early 20th C. historian and ethnographic writer, A. C. Ballard.

There are many versions and excerpts from this text, including a wholly fraudulent version mentioning buffalo and the interconnectedness of all life which was written by a Hollywood screenwriter in the late 70’s and which has gained wide currency. The bogus version has been quoted by individuals as prominent and diverse as former U.S. President Bush and Joseph Campbell.

At the time this speech was made it was commonly believed by whites and as well by many Indians that Native americas would inevitalby become extinct.


The “Alternate Statement” of Chief Seattle …

Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds.

My words are like the stars that never change. Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons.

The white chief says that Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return. His people are many. They are like the grass that covers vast prairies. My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain. The great, and I presume — good, White Chief sends us word that he wishes to buy our land but is willing to allow us enough to live comfortably. This indeed appears just, even generous, for the Red Man no longer has rights that he need respect, and the offer may be wise, also, as we are no longer in need of an extensive country.

There was a time when our people covered the land as the waves of a wind- ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor, but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes that are now but a mournful memory. I will not dwell on, nor mourn over, our untimely decay, nor reproach my paleface brothers with hastening it, as we too may have been somewhat to blame.

Youth is impulsive. When our young men grow angry at some real or imaginary wrong, and disfigure their faces with black paint, it denotes that their hearts are black, and that they are often cruel and relentless, and our old men and old women are unable to restrain them. Thus it has ever been. Thus it was when the white man began to push our forefathers ever westward. But let us hope that the hostilities between us may never return. We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain. Revenge by young men is considered gain, even at the cost of their own lives, but old men who stay at home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose, know better.

Our good father in Washington–for I presume he is now our father as well as yours, since King George has moved his boundaries further north–our great and good father, I say, sends us word that if we do as he desires he will protect us. His brave warriors will be to us a bristling wall of strength, and his wonderful ships of war will fill our harbors, so that our ancient enemies far to the northward — the Haidas and Tsimshians, will cease to frighten our women, children, and old men. He in reality he will be our father and we his children.

But can that ever be? Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine! He folds his strong protecting arms lovingly about the paleface and leads him by the hand as a father leads an infant son. But, He has forsaken His Red children, if they really are His. Our God, the Great Spirit, seems also to have forsaken us. Your God makes your people wax stronger every day. Soon they will fill all the land.

Our people are ebbing away like a rapidly receding tide that will never return. The white man’s God cannot love our people or He would protect them. They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help. How then can we be brothers? How can your God become our God and renew our prosperity and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness? If we have a common Heavenly Father He must be partial, for He came to His paleface children.

We never saw Him. He gave you laws but had no word for His red children whose teeming multitudes once filled this vast continent as stars fill the firmament. No; we are two distinct races with separate origins and separate destinies. There is little in common between us.

To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground. You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret. Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget.

The Red Man could never comprehend or remember it. Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors — the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems, and is written in the hearts of our people.

Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb and wander away beyond the stars. They are soon forgotten and never return.

Our dead never forget this beautiful world that gave them being. They still love its verdant valleys, its murmuring rivers, its magnificent mountains, sequestered vales and verdant lined lakes and bays, and ever yearn in tender fond affection over the lonely hearted living, and often return from the happy hunting ground to visit, guide, console, and comfort them.

Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun. However, your proposition seems fair and I think that my people will accept it and will retire to the reservation you offer them. Then we will dwell apart in peace, for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be the words of nature speaking to my people out of dense darkness.

It matters little where we pass the remnant of our days. They will not be many. The Indian’s night promises to be dark. Not a single star of hope hovers above his horizon. Sad-voiced winds moan in the distance. Grim fate seems to be on the Red Man’s trail, and wherever he will hear the approaching footsteps of his fell destroyer and prepare stolidly to meet his doom, as does the wounded doe that hears the approaching footsteps of the hunter.

A few more moons, a few more winters, and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit, will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours.

But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see.

We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished.

Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits.

And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children’s children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.

Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless.
Dead, did I say? – There is no death, only a change of worlds.http://www.kyphilom.com/www/seattle.html

 

http://blog.firsttries.com/chief-sealths-seattle-grave/

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