Introduction: One of the oldest of the epic myths of the ancient world tells the story of the Sumerian Goddess Inanna, and her strange, deadly journey down to the Underworld Kur, ruled by her older sister Ereshkigal. This tale has survived through the millennia, told and retold in many languages, but no one has ever known exactly why the Daughter of the Moon undertook this dangerous journey. Her descent into Kur resulted...
Upon the dewy vale alightsThe misty morning shroudA rustic shack upon the heightsIs cloaked within the cloud I take a breath to view the sightAnd pause my weary climbWhile o'er my head the doves alightTo coo a song sublime The moment grabs my aching heartI wish never to leaveBut knowing that I must departI make myself believe That someday will I come againUpon that day I prayYour hand will be in my hand whenWe walk again...
Pow-wow The word comes to us from the Algonquin language, most likely from the Narragansett word powwáw, meaning sorcerer, or shaman. It is a gathering together of different tribes and clans for spiritual communion, or often, simply as a contest for Native American dancers. Every pow-wow is different, but there are a few important rituals that are almost always practiced during these tribal gatherings, so I'll describe a...
Author’s note: Being half-Native American, I have a foot in both worlds, and though I live in one world, my Cherokee grandmother, whom I lost to cancer two years ago, instilled in me a love of my Native heritage. She shared all our stories and traditions with me when I was growing up, and took me to tribal ceremonies. My perspective is colored by everything she taught me from that world because I respected her immensely....
The Native American tradition is one of preservation. We are many tribes and many clans, but our stories carry on our history. Some have been nearly lost and forgotten, as the young look to the future and forget the past. But these remembrances of the teachings of my Native American grandmother carry on some of the tales given to us from earlier times. This is our heritage. It is, in fact, the only thing we have left of a...
The wood-spoked wheels of the old Crow-Elkhart began sinking in the soft mud along the shoulder of Route 9W almost as soon as I stopped the car. I had just pulled off the macadam in a panic, at the sharp command of my father. Aunt Alma protested that she was alright, but she was looking rather pale, from what little I could see of her. A towering stack of luggage, all her worldly possessions, filled most of the back-seat,...
