World Wilderness Congress Focuses on Indigenous Knowledge

"Humanity stands at a crossroads and must come together to realize dramatically different and supportive relationships with one another, the Earth, and all life on the planet, if we are to surmount cascading ecological and social crises now underway."

That was the message of Chief Arvol Looking Horse, the spiritual leader of the Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota peoples, who on Sunday welcomed hundreds of attendees to the 12th World Wilderness Congress convening this week in the Black Hills, or He Sapa in the Lakota language. Though these gatherings, dedicated to assessing and often resetting global conservation work, date back to the 1970s, this is the first such congress being convened by a tribal authority. The agenda is dedicated heavily to centering Indigenous perspectives in the global struggle to protect wild lands and waters.

Indigenous peoples articulate alternative environmental perspectives and relationships to the natural world. Indigenous mythologies and oral traditions express a non-anthropocentric environmental ethic. Indigenous groups offer ancient tried-and-tested knowledge and wisdom based on their own locally developed practices of resource use. And, as Native peoples themselves have insisted for centuries, they often understand and exhibit a holistic, interconnected and interdependent relationship to particular landscapes and all of the life forms found there. Despite making up a tiny fraction of the world's population, Indigenous peoples hold ancestral rights to some 65 percent of the planet. This poignant fact conveys the enormous role that Native peoples play not only as environmental stewards, but as political actors on the global stage.

All over the world, Native peoples are engaged in battles with hostile corporations and governments that claim the right to set aside small reserves for Native people, and then to seize the rest of their traditional territory. They are confronting the destructive practices of industry and leading the charge against climate change while defending the rivers, forests and food systems that we all depend on. At the same time, they are blocking governments from eroding basic rights and freedoms and turning to the courts of the world to remedy 500 years of historical wrongs. Native peoples are putting their lives on the line and fighting back for political autonomy and land rights. And all the while, they are breathing new life into the biocultural heritage that has the potential to sustain the entire human race.

Looking Horse, the 19th Keeper of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe and Bundle, is as revered among the original people of this land as the Dalai Lama is by the people of Tibet or the Pope for Catholics around the world.

"We warned that some day you would not be able to control what you had created. And that day is here. Mother Earth is sick and has a fever," Looking Horse told the group assembled from nations, tribes, and communities across the world.

The chills of that "fever"--the accelerating shocks of climate destabilization caused by centuries of colonial extraction, fossil fuel combustion, and ecological destruction--rocked communities around the world in 2023, with 2024 continuing to break heat records. A "State of the Climate" report that drew on the work of nearly 600 scientists pointed to unprecedented levels of greenhouse gasses in the atmosphere as the cause of Earth's overheating. Records were similarly broken for ocean heat, sea-ice loss, and sea-level rise. In all, industrially-driven global warming exposed nearly 80 percent of the people on the planet to at least 31 days of extreme heat, another study found. This level of heat was virtually impossible if not for the burning of fossil fuels and development-driven deforestation, Climate Central researchers have reminded us.

But organizers and attendees at WILD12 aren't there to haggle over carbon credits or debate the benefits and risks of carbon capture technologies and blue hydrogen, the substance of so many climate gatherings and debates. Instead, The WILD Foundation, through decades of international gatherings, aims to interrupt one driver of climate crisis that gets far less air time than carbon emissions: the global loss of the planet's wild spaces, which for millions of years have served as the planet's lungs and carbon sinks.

Yet even conservation spaces and agendas have offered a shallow understanding of problems and solutions, overlooking the deeper cultural--and thus colonial--roots of ecological collapse. What makes this year's congress so significant is its aim to reformulate the global conservation agenda not only by placing Indigenous leadership at the forefront of conservation action, but more foundationally, by centering Indigenous knowledge and worldviews in understandings of what Western cultures call wilderness.

In other words, the cultural roots of the collapse of our shared biosphere lies not in the make, model, or brand of the tools we use to clearcut forests or fuel plastics production. Rather, it lies in a fundamental misunderstanding that goes all the way to the bottom of Western thought: the hierarchical dualism that imagines the "human" as both separate from and superior to "nature".

Perhaps the most important aspect of Indigenous cosmology is the conception of creation as a living process resulting in a living universe in which a kinship exists between all things. Thus the Mother Earth is a living being, as are the Sun, Stars and the Moon. Hence the Creators are our family, our Grandparents or Parents, and all of their creations are children who are also our relations.

What needs to be understood and challenged, then, is the very basic conceptual groundings of Western culture itself, which gave birth to capitalism as a global economic system for extracting profit both from the bodies of people racialized and gendered as "others" and from land, treated as a dead thing or "resource" to extract from. For it is these philosophical and economic assumptions that--especially from an Indigenous perspective--facilitated colonization and enabled the genocides, slavery, and racial capitalism that followed.

The industrialized West is largely unaware of how Indigenous societies have functioned and the strengths they possess that industrial cultures have lacked. Our notions of progress are based on the idea that high tech means better, and that industrial cultures are somehow more advanced socially. The current state of our threatened environment demands that communication channels be opened for dialogue and engagement with Native environmental ethics. Native people are not only trying to protect water sources, clean up uranium tailings and mount opposition to fossil fuel extraction, they are also continuing their spiritual ways of seeking to celebrate and support all life by means of ceremonies and prayers.

Wisdom of the Thunder Beings

The Thunder Beings are a related family of divine beings who bring about weather changes such as thunder, lightning, wind and rain. Through their power abiding in the atmosphere, they sustain the Earth and protect the people. Through lightning, they directly purify the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the earth we cultivate. They create a world-wide lightning display that produces and maintains the heartbeat frequency (Schumann resonance) of the Earth's electromagnetic grid. Their holy medicine includes creativity, fertility, protection, peace, harmony, balance, compassion, wisdom, enlightenment, death and rebirth. Through the Thunder Beings, all life has been created, is sustained and will be destroyed. They sustain balance and destroy imbalance, the cause of suffering.
 

From time immemorial, people have worshiped the Thunder Beings. They are the source of all ideological, religious and spiritual transmission. The early cultures attribute their belief systems to the teachings of rain gods and goddesses. Their myths tell of how rain deities created the world, humans and all life. They came down to Earth in the distant past and gave humanity language, law, the arts, spiritual sciences, wisdom and knowledge. The Thunder Beings were instrumental in teaching their mortal cousins how to properly honor and commune with the spirits to gain their blessings.
 

The core beliefs and principles of all spiritual cultural traditions come from the Thunder Beings. The Native American spiritual traditions originated from the rain deities known as Wakinyan, Animiki and Kachinas. The Mongolian shamanic traditions originated from the sky deity known as Tengri. The Maya shamanic traditions originated from the lightning deities known as Chaac, K'awiil and Yaluk. The Chinese Taoist traditions originated from a thunder god known as Lei Kung. The Australian Aboriginal shamanic traditions originated from the cloud and rain spirits known as Wandjina. They are the roots of all integral shamanic and wisdom traditions.  
 

Among the Yoruba people of West Africa, the orisha (god) of thunder is known as Shango. Shango is renowned for his oshe, a double-headed battle-ax, as well as the double-headed bata drum he uses to summon rain storms. The orishas are the powerful divine spirits of the Yoruba religion. They are the creator and sustainer of all things. They are the manifestations of primordial energies, both creative and destructive. They are the conduits by which life and all cultural wisdom entered the world. Like all of the Yoruba gods, Shango is both a deified historical ancestor and a divine natural spiritual force. Orishas enter the mortal world, complete epic feats, live, die and then are reincarnated into the world to complete even more amazing tasks. They are immortal energies that represent a core part of Yoruba philosophy and belief.
 

Every spring, the Lakota people gather at Black Elk Peak in the sacred Paha Sapa (Black Hills) for the "Welcome Back the Thunders" ceremony. The Lakota ceremonial season begins with the return of the Wakinyan or Thunder Beings. According to legend, the Wakinyan are huge winged beings that humans cannot see because they are shielded by thick clouds. Thunder is made by the sound of their voices, and lightning is created when they open and close their eyes. The Wakinyan created wild rice and gave the Lakota the spear, the tomahawk and pigments to make them impervious to weapons. The annual vernal equinox ceremony ends with Lakota teens carrying a sacred pipe and food offerings to the top of Black Elk Peak. As the highest point in the Paha Sapa, the Lakota consider it to be the most appropriate spot to bring prayers to Wakan Tanka (Great Mystery).
 

Among the Pueblo people of the American Southwest, the deities known as kachinas bring the rain for their three main crops: corn, beans and squash. Puebloans believe that kachinas are divine spirits present in features of the natural world such as clouds, winds, thunder and rain. They are also ancestral spirits that help connect humans with the spirit world. They come to the human realm to collect the people's prayers and take them back to the spirit realm. The kachinas dwell in sacred mountains and other holy places, but spend half of each year living near Pueblo villages. During this time, the men of kachina societies perform traditional ceremonies linked with the presence of the spirits. They wear costumes and elaborate masks and perform songs and dances associated with specific kachinas. The Puebloans say that during these rituals each dancer is transformed into the spirit being represented.
 

In the Asian traditions, the Thunder Beings are responsible for expressing the higher truth of spiritual reality, safeguarding it and disseminating it for the benefit of all beings. The essence of the Asian spiritual traditions is the direct experience of enlightenment--of perfect tranquility and unconditional bliss. This experience is fully attained through the Thunder Beings by virtue of their mystical thunder and lightning blessings. In Tantric Buddhism, their names and images are used in visualization-based meditations to awaken the mind. Through the proper use of these images and sacred sound in meditation, we can liberate our minds from suffering.
 

The Thunder Beings are invisible, yet out of compassion they reveal themselves through thunder, lightning, wind and rain. Their visible manifestation or mystical visitation is universally one of storm-display. Even though there is great destructive rage in storms, in truth this is merely a means of ushering in peace, of clearing great obstructions. Everything that the Thunder Beings do has the effect of bringing about peace and harmony.
 

Thunder Beings are perfect and beyond suffering. Nature is their manifestation; it is quite beautiful and harmonious. Where there is calamity, the cause is poor human activity, such as war, pollution and environmental devastation. There is little peace on Earth because there is little peace in our hearts. In order to establish it, we must diligently work for it through meditation and through compassionate activity. Meditation--whether it's silent or drumming up a storm--increases our wisdom and insight, our capacity to be of true help to others. Wisdom is the light of the Thunder Beings shining through our heart. It is the lightning within us striking its way out.

"The Seven Generations and The Seven Grandfather Teachings"

Discover Indigenous wisdom for a life well lived in James Vukelich Kaagegaabaw's book The Seven Generations and the Seven Grandfather Teachings. Based on ancient teachings from the Anishinaabe/Ojibwe people, this self-published (2023) book about the Ojibwe language offers not just historical insight but valuable life lessons for modern times. The book's teachings emphasize the alignment of words with actions and the importance of leading a holistic life. The central theme is the concept of interconnectedness: "Aanji-Bimaadizing means, 'transforming your life'." This is no ordinary transformation. It extends far beyond the self, touching the lives of past, present, and future relatives. We live in a reciprocally interrelated world where every action we take ripples forward and backward in time.
 

Grandparents – family connections in general – figure largely in Kaagegaabaw's story of the way Ojibwe language was handed down by a people who understand the land and their place on it. He points out that when we hear a word like Nookomis (my grandmother), we hear a sound "created by a person who knew this land back when it was covered by ice a mile high, before Gichi-gami, the Great Lake, Lake Superior, existed. When we use the old words, we are using words that were spoken by someone who saw woolly mammoths, giant Mooz (moose) and Misamik (giant beaver)."
 

Kaagegaabaw is proficient at explaining the heart of the Ojibwe language. He demystifies the vocabulary, breaking words into small parts for a clear understanding of their meaning. The primal language conveys a "Great Law" that helps speakers live in peace, harmony and balance. He cites the ancient Iroquois (Haudenosaunee) philosophy of considering the impact of each decision on the next seven generations. Seven generation stewardship is a concept that urges the current generation of humans to live and work for the benefit of the seventh generation into the future. As we navigate through the labyrinth of modern existence, how often do we stop and ask, "How do my actions today honor my past and pave the way for my future?"
 

The seven generation teachings, known as Gichi-dibaakonigwewinan, are truth, humility, respect, love, bravery, courage, honesty, and wisdom. The chapter about honesty indicates that just speaking the truth isn't enough; it's also imperative to align your words, actions, and intentions. Kaagegaabaw asks why would we use a sacred gift from the Creator, the Ojibwe language, to deceive others? The language demonstrates that the consequence of deceit is disorder. Only those who are out of balance will lie. As Kaagegaabaw put it,"Observe how I live, and the truth will invariably come out of it. It always does."
 

Kaagegaabaw concludes by pointing out that when we change and improve ourselves, we change and improve those who came before us and those to come – connecting them. As Kaagegaabaw so eloquently put it, "If I change myself, have I changed all of my relatives?" Though his ancestors were victims of colonization, genocide, and subjugation, Kaagegaabaw believes they can be healed through his interconnections with them. "I can still heal them," Kaagegaabaw asserts. "We are still writing our ancestors' stories."
 

About the Author
 

James Vukelich Kaagegaabaw, a descendant of Turtle Mountain, is a renowned international speaker, author, educator and digital creator. His keen insights were developed through speaking with and recording elders and native language speakers across North America as part of the Ojibwe Language Dictionary Project. James is a passionate advocate for sharing how to live a life of 'mino-bimaadiziwin,' the good life. For over twenty years, he has facilitated community language tables, consulted with public and private organizations on language and cultural programs, and traveled internationally as a keynote speaker. He has been featured in numerous publications, podcasts, radio & television programs. James lives in the Twin Cities, Minnesota with his wife and son.

Peyote and Tribal Sovereignty

by Darren Thompson
Director of Media Relations
Lakota People's Law Project
 

On Friday, April 12, the Native American Church of North America (NACNA) hosted a summit in Farmington, New Mexico focused on protecting peyote, a cactus medicine sacred to Native Peoples across Turtle Island. The one-day summit brought leaders from Arizona, New Mexico, and Oklahoma together with church delegates to discuss next steps for the largest American Indian religious organization in the country.
 

Leaders say development near peyote's natural habitat, which in the U.S. only grows naturally on private lands in four counties in southern Texas, has decreased the supply of the plant. A growing community comprised mainly of non-Natives wants to bring psychedelic drugs into mainstream society and tout research that psychedelics aid in improving mental health.
 

Under the 1994 Amendment, only enrolled members of federally recognized tribes are permitted under federal law to possess, transport and ingest peyote in bonafide traditional ceremonies. However, the plant, and ceremonies that are centered around its traditional use are threatened by non-Native interests, including Big Pharma.
 

Official efforts to decriminalize mescaline, the active ingredient in peyote, have succeeded in places like Oakland and San Francisco, and others want to follow their lead. In February, California State Senator Scott Wiener introduced California Senate Bill 1012 — The Regulated Psychedelic-assisted Therapy Act and the Regulated Psychedelic Substances Control Act — which aims to decriminalize mescaline and other psychedelics.
 

If passed, the bill would authorize the establishment of a regulatory system that would control regulated psychedelic substances for use with regulated psychedelic-assisted therapy. While the bill mentions the respect for Indigenous cultures and their use of "psychedelic substances," it would also legalize mescaline, which the federal government classifies as the active hallucinogenic ingredient in peyote.
 

"Mescaline is mescaline, whether it is peyote or other cacti," says Justin Jones, Diné and General Counsel for the Native American Church of North America. "California cannot decriminalize mescaline in other cacti and say that peyote is exempt, because mescaline is mescaline, no matter what cactus you have."
 

Protecting peyote use and habitat, church leaders point out, is an issue of tribal sovereignty. Only enrolled members of federally recognized tribes have rights protected under AIRFA, and in this way, the federal government has acknowledged the inherent sovereignty that tribes possess. Leaders of the Native American Church have traveled across Indian Country and even to Capitol Hill with the message that opening an avenue for legalized mescaline threatens one of the legal cornerstones of tribal sovereignty. They're asking for strengthened enforcement of AIRFA, which was drafted to protect intrusions on traditional American Indian cultures and religions.
 

Over the past several years, non-Native individuals promoting the benefits of peyote have encouraged direct violations of the law. Mainstream interests want to extract the core of one of the last protected plants for American Indian people and profit off it. Over the next several months, the Lakota People's Law Project will document and support leaders advocating for enforcement of the American Indian Religious Freedom Act's 1994 amendment. While the possession, transportation, and use of peyote is protected, its natural environment is not. If Big Pharma achieves its goal of decriminalizing mescaline, peyote and its natural environment will surely be put at risk.
 

It's also notable that efforts to incorporate psychedelics into organized religions are gaining steam, also challenging the American Indian Religious Freedom Act. While it is not our responsibility to challenge people and their prayers, it is our duty to fight for tribal sovereignty and protect sacred spaces of American Indian culture for our next generations.

Climate-Endangered Tribe Sues Louisiana

By now, you're likely well aware of the climate crisis and its significant dangers to Indigenous communities the world over. The problem is especially magnified on islands and in coastal regions, where sea level rise can wipe away traditional homelands and make climate refugees of those who have been displaced. That's true even right here in the United States, where hundreds of Native communities -- in South Dakota, Alaska, Florida, Hawai'i, Washington, and Louisiana -- face existential threats.
 

And now, the first community to supposedly be moved from harm's way -- the Jean Charles Choctaw Nation -- is facing a new set of problems. Just before the new year, the tribe filed a landmark civil rights complaint with the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) against the state of Louisiana. In 2016, HUD granted Louisiana $48 million in aid to resettle the tribe. But, its complaint asserts, Louisiana failed to properly implement the grant and has ethnically and racially discriminated, violated tribal sovereignty, excluded cultural components central to a proper relocation program, and provided poor replacement housing.
 

The Jean Charles Choctaw Nation has resided on the Isle de Jean Charles for five generations, since the ancestors of its citizens escaped the Trail of Tears in the early 1830s amid President Andrew Jackson's Indian Removal Act. Its homelands and burial grounds are located in a region facing perpetual devastation and erosion by storms and sea level rise. Since 1955, the Jean Charles Choctaw Nation has lost over 98 percent of its lands to the encroaching ocean.
 

It's also worth noting that the tribe is located in Terrebonne Parish, a region notorious for oil extraction, high pollution rates, and environmental justice violations. The Parish and over 90 percent of its property are largely controlled by non-local fossil fuel and chemical companies. The infamous "Cancer Alley" is just upstream.
 

By filing its complaint with HUD, the Jean Charles Choctaw Nation is looking to the federal agency to investigate the grant-funded resettlement program, currently run by Louisiana's Office of Community Development (OCD). The tribe hopes HUD will order OCD to respect tribal needs and authority as the program's implementation proceeds. The lawsuit is also significant in that, while the tribe has state recognition from Louisiana, it does not have federal recognition, which would extend access to more grants, disaster assistance, and various legal powers -- including constitutional protections and self-governance recognized by the United States.

Environmental Victory for Alaska Natives

On January 8th, the U.S. Supreme Court rejected the State of Alaska's bid to fast-track the legal process, overrule the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), and gain approval for the Pebble Mine -- slated to extract enormous amounts of copper, gold, and molybdenum from the pristine and sensitive ecosystem known as Bristol Bay. Located in a remote, wild, and generally uninhabited part of Southwest Alaska, Pebble is the largest known undeveloped copper ore body in the world.
 

The populations in the area rely heavily on wild resources for subsistence, harvesting moose, caribou and salmon. Wild resources play an important part in the region's cultural heritage. There are more than 30 Alaskan native tribes in the region that depend on salmon to support their traditional subsistence ways of life, in addition to other inhabitants and tourists in the area. A diverse coalition led by Alaska Natives has consistently fought against the proposed mine for more than two decades. It eventually gained support from the EPA, which ultimately blocked the mine proposal in January 2023 over concerns it would threaten an aquatic ecosystem supporting the world's most prolific sockeye salmon fishery.
 

This decision is significant, particularly considering the current High Court's tendency to support states' rights, limits on regulation -- especially of the environmental variety -- and corporate concerns. Alaska's request, filed in June, was unusual in that it sought to skip lower appeals courts to challenge the EPA's decision on the basis that it violated Alaska's state sovereignty.
 

Under the law, alleged violations of state sovereignty are one of the few categories of cases that grant the Supreme Court original jurisdiction -- meaning a state can bypass the usual state/federal court appeals process and file straight with the High Court. The justices could easily have decided to hear the case and decide in favor of the mining company, which has shown no qualms about engaging in some shady business practices over the years.
 

As the single most productive sockeye salmon fishery in the world, Bristol Bay contains biodiversity and abundant wild fish populations which present a stark contrast to many other fisheries in the Pacific Northwest (and worldwide). All five Eastern Pacific salmon species spawn in Bristol Bay's freshwater tributaries. Most have experienced severe depletion over the last few decades. Sockeye salmon, like all Pacific Salmon, are a keystone species, vital to the health of an entire ecosystem. Of course, salmon also provide a sacred food source for Indigenous communities up and down the West Coast.
 

Kudos to the United Tribes of Bristol Bay, a consortium of Alaska Native tribes fighting to preserve the traditional Yup'ik, Dena'ina, and Alutiiq ways of life in Southwest Alaska, for leading the charge. The Supreme Court's decision confirms all the hard work put in by tribes and allies, including the Save Bristol Bay Coalition. It remains to be seen whether Alaska's conservative leadership will continue with legal challenges at a lower court level -- but, for now, Indigenous People have won a big battle in this decades-long fight to protect their homelands.

Native Actor Lily Gladstone Makes History

Today, I share with you some great news! On January 7, in case you missed it, Blackfeet and Nez Perce actor Lily Gladstone made history as the Golden Globes' first Indigenous winner in the category of Best Actress in a Motion Picture Drama. Gladstone, who goes by both she/they pronouns, brought an understated power to their portrayal of Mollie Burkhardt, an Osage woman struggling amid the murders of her family and community by greedy settlers, in Martin Scorcese's "Killers of the Flower Moon."
 

After beginning their acceptance speech with a traditional Blackfeet introduction and a round of thank-yous, Gladstone said something important and inspiring: "This is a historic win, but it doesn't belong to just me. I'm holding it with all of my beautiful sisters. And this is for every rez kid, every little urban kid, every little Native kid out there who has a dream, who is seeing themselves represented and our stories, told by ourselves in our own words, with tremendous allies and tremendous trust from with and from each other."
 

That last statement is filled with both truth and nuance. It's a beautiful sentiment, but Gladstone may also be acknowledging that Hollywood remains a place with rich and powerful gatekeepers. Even in 2024, non-Native filmmakers (allies or not) like James Cameron (the "Avatar" franchise) and Scorcese are most often still the ones helming stories featuring Indigenous People and perspectives.
 

This needs to change. Allies are important, and representation is wonderful. Still, even the most positive representation on-screen is not the same thing as agency -- the ability to tell their own stories, centering their own narratives. And agency, particularly for the Native women without whom this story does not exist and the movie could not function, is largely missing for much of "Killers of the Flower Moon." When Native actors occupy the screen, the movie seems to vibrate at a different frequency. I'm left wondering what could have been had their characters' arcs been less peripheral.
 

Much has been written about the movie by Indigenous People across the nation. From a glowing review by Vincent Schilling, founder and editor of NativeViewpoint.com, to a scathing indictment from "Reservation Dogs" star Devery Jacobs, opinions on the movie vary widely -- and understandably so. The three-hour-plus epic, based on true events, is ambitious, messy, and devastating. Critics praise the movie's effort to highlight Osage history with Indigenous actors in prominent roles but express reservations about its graphic violence and lack of historical context, foregrounding of white characters and lack of an Indigenous screenwriter or director. One thing everyone seems to agree upon, though, is the powerful performances given by Gladstone and other Native People in supporting roles. I, for one, look forward to seeing more from all of them, especially in movies and shows written and directed by Indigenous storytellers.

Life is a Walking

A Native American elder talks about the Sacred Gift of Choice, given to all the Two-Legged Beings:
 

"I am Good Buffalo Eagle. Hear my words.
 

The Creator gave all Two-Legged beings a sacred gift. We call this the Gift of Choice. Regardless of where we are born, all come to earth with this gift. Along with this Gift of Choice, all Two-Legged beings have a sense of knowing right from wrong from the One Who Stands Within. Therefore, the Gift of Choice allows us to choose knowingly.
 

My Pauline, the Woman of my Heart, states that in her Navajo language, life is a walking, a journey. So, if life upon Mother Earth is a journey, there are two ways to walk.
 

By applying the Gift of Choice, we can choose to walk forward or we can choose to walk backward. Because we choose knowingly, with every step we take forward or backward, we are accountable.
 

Because we are accountable, there are consequences. Consequences, however, are not chosen. They might be delayed, but by and by they will come.
 

Forward Walking choices are rewarded with consequences that light the way to peace, happiness, joy, comfort, knowledge, and wisdom. Backward Walking choices bring to the Two-Legged beings consequences of misery, despair, and darkness.
 

At the end of our lives, when our bodies are about to be laid in Mother Earth, we will know for ourselves whether we are a Two-Legged being full of light or a Two-Legged being full of darkness. At that time, we cannot turn around and point a finger accusingly in the air. We will know because We are the ones who chose to walk forward toward the light or backward toward darkness.
 

Hear my words. Don't believe the dark whisperings that invite you to walk backward. At any time in your life, you have the power to turn forward. No matter how young or old you are, you have the power to turn and walk forward.
 

We extend an invitation to all to utilize the power of the Gift of Choice, which will teach us the Forward Walkings that will bring peace. Let's look at the present and with anticipation into the future at what we can become -- a Two-Legged being full of light!
 

I am Good Buffalo Eagle and I have spoken."
 

An excerpt from the book The Seven Paths: Changing One's Way of Walking in the World.

Let's Stand Again With Standing Rock

It's time to take action and stop the Dakota Access pipeline (DAPL)! It's been over six years since DAPL began carrying oil and nearly a year and a half since the U.S. Supreme Court rejected the pipeline operator Energy Transfer's attempt to avoid producing a required Environmental Impact Statement (EIS). Today, in violation of a separate court order, DAPL continues to operate illegally, without a federal easement. Finally, after interminable delay, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers has finally released an extremely problematic draft EIS for public input.
 

That's where you come in. You now have just a few weeks to submit your public comment demanding the Corps shut this pipeline down and require a new, valid EIS. Please stand with Standing Rock in this critical moment and write to the Army Corps right now.
 

Now that the EIS has been released, we can confirm what we already suspected. Prepared by a member of the American Petroleum Institute -- clear conflict of interest -- the EIS addresses none of Standing Rock's many grave concerns about DAPL. Those include DAPL's imminent threat to the Missouri River, big problems with Energy Transfer's emergency response plans, Energy Transfer's horrendous safety track record, continued lack of transparency with Standing Rock throughout the environmental review process, inaccurate characterizations of tribal consultation, and sensitive habitat and sacred burial sites along the riverbank.
 

Earlier this year, four U.S. senators including Bernie Sanders submitted a letter to the Corps seeking an explanation. The reply from Assistant Secretary of the Army for Civil Works Michael Connor did not adequately or honestly address the tribe's complaints. Standing Rock replied, pointing out the flaws in approach and demanding redress.
 

For now, it's up to us to lend a hand. We must flood the Army Corps with a single, unified message: This illegal pipeline's operations must be terminated and the Army Corps must start over with a legitimate environmental review. In the midst of a climate emergency, let's defend sacred ground and safeguard Unci Maka (our Grandmother Earth). This may be our last, best chance to end DAPL once and for all. Please take action now.

The Pueblo Jewelers of the Southwest

In the world of Pueblo artisans, the jewelry makers are second in number to the pottery makers. Over the generations, this ancient craft has taken on numerous forms. On the meticulous end of the spectrum, there are those who make tiny beads, called heishi, first produced at today's Santo Domingo (Kewa) Pueblo in prehistoric times, with hand-pump drills and stone drill bits, and then strung as necklaces. From there, Pueblo jewelry runs from semi-precious stones set in silver to contemporary works, made with gold and precious gemstones. In between are tufa-castings (a process using a carved volcanic stone as a mold for molten silver or gold); hammered metal; handmade silver beads; choruses of tiny bird effigies carved from stone and strung; classic concho belts; large seashells covered in mosaic stonework; and some of the most prized lapidary work in the world, famously done by Zuni Pueblo artists. There are works in stainless steel cut to a fine edge, "shadow boxes" (where a design is cut out of a sheet of burnished silver, which is then affixed to an underlying piece of blackened silver, thereby creating an image in negative space), as well as bracelets, rings, bolo ties, and belt buckles, all worn today by design-savvy buyers from around the world.
 

Steve LaRance, of Hopi and Assiniboine heritage, gets his tufa on the Hopi Reservation from deposits created by the San Francisco Peaks. To gather what he needs, he has to drive a four-wheel drive pickup, find an isolated spot, and spend a day digging with shovels and picks. The tufa comes out in chunks, in sizes that range from bowling ball to suitcase. This will generally provide enough raw material for a year's work.
 

Steve and his wife and jewelry-making partner, Marian Denipah, moved from Arizona some years back to Marian's homelands, just a stone's throw from the lazy Rio Grande on Ohkay Owingeh land in northern New Mexico. In addition to their various lines of jewelry, they have also produced a batch of children and grandchildren that have made marks of their own. One daughter is a physician; another, along with her brother, spent a decade as principal dancers for Cirque du Soleil. Today, Steve and Marian oversee a Native youth dance troupe called the Lightning Boy Foundation, which travels the world in an effort to spread Pueblo values and skills.

 

Santo Domingo is one of the Rio Grande Pueblos in Northern New Mexico. For centuries the Pueblo people have been mining turquoise at Cerrillos, south of what is now Santa Fe, and have been acquiring other turquoise from as far away as Nevada, California and Colorado.

The Pueblo jewelers traveled south to the Gulf and west to the Pacific for shell when they couldn't trade for it. Jet and red colored rock was found nearby and used in mosaics and other jewelry. Eventually coral was introduced by the Spanish and replaced the red rock. These colorful stones were made into beads and mosaics for decoration and ceremonies.

The people of Santo Domingo became known for making the best disc beads and, along with the Zuni people, for producing the best inlay in turquoise, jet, shell and coral on shell and wood bases. The jewelers of Santo Domingo still produce the finest handmade beads and mosaics. Many of their children acquire drills and learn to make beads at a very young age. You can shop online for authentic Pueblo jewelry at PuebloDirect.com.

The Pueblo Potters of the Southwest

Pottery, the most sought after Pueblo art today, is being made by thousands of Native clay artists, many of whom still dig, clean, and age their own clay, as well as hand-shape and coil-build pottery without the use of a potter's wheel. Potters then decorate their works with mineral and clay slips they prepare themselves, or by carving into the clay. Finally, they fire their clay outdoors in the open air, rather than in a kiln.
 

This is the age-old process used by Jody Naranjo, one of the most well-known contemporary Pueblo potters. Naranjo grew up at Santa Clara Pueblo, but moved to Albuquerque years ago to pursue a career in professional art. She still returns to the Pueblo for ceremonies and to fire her distinctive pottery. Naranjo's work is distinguished by intricately etched surfaces, portraying everything from fine geometric patterns to quaint scenes of people and Pueblo life, as well as a variety of animals, birds, and fish.
 

Naranjo consciously carries on ancient traditional techniques. In her pottery, which is always unglazed, Naranjo aims for a natural color that she describes as "rich chocolate brown." To get that tone, she encloses the pots in thin sheets of metal before firing the pottery on a brick. "Some people even use old metal cafeteria trays, or put the work inside metal milk crates," she says. Then she surrounds her pots with chunks of cedar, and sets the whole thing afire. "It burns hot and fast," she notes.
 

Most modern pottery is made from very different clay that requires overnight firings in intensely hot gas or electric kilns, but Naranjo's firings take no more than 30 to 45 minutes. "I have no idea of the temperature, because we don't use thermometers, but I've learned to judge the heat by observation," she says. About 5 to 10 minutes before the pots are done, she covers them with cow manure, which has been dried until it's fluffy.
 

"Some people use shredded newspaper," she says, "some horsehair." The manure blanket blocks the fire's source of oxygen, a step that darkens the pots. If she lets this stage go too far, the pots turn black, a distinct style in itself that some buyers prefer. If the goal is to retain the natural reds in the clay that Pueblo potters traditionally use, this step is skipped entirely, but if you're aiming for some combination -- for example, swirls of black on a red pot -- Naranjo says, "you put a whole cow pie against the pot."
 

The process, however, is not foolproof. Because these firings are done outdoors over a wood fire, without the controlled conditions inside a kiln, wind and humidity levels can create havoc, causing the pottery to crack or explode. To avoid such catastrophes, Naranjo tries to fire in either the mornings or evenings, which are the calmest times of day in her area. But even that's not always enough. "I've often waited a week or more to fire," she says. "It's so tricky. All your work can be gone in a minute!" While studying her craft, Naranjo says, she had her grandmother "giving me advice at every step. Still, I've made mistakes and heard the pots exploding in the fire. Then I just cry."

The Sweat Lodge Ceremony

In September of 1991, I began hosting a weekly teaching sweat lodge ceremony on four acres of secluded, unimproved forest land that my wife and I owned near Bend, Oregon. The ceremonies were conducted by Wasco elder Les Thomas and Oglala Lakota elder Don Fasthorse. Many people gathered to learn, and then left the group to teach others. The sweat lodge or inipi is as a spiritual purification ceremony of rebirth, rejuvenation, emotional release and awakening. The ceremony serves to cleanse the body, mind and spirit while opening a path of communication between the spiritual and earthly realms. The intense heat generated by steam created from pouring water onto heated rocks is meant to encourage a sweating out of toxins and negative energy that create imbalance in life. Sweat lodge ceremonies are traditionally held for a variety of reasons: before warriors go into battle, before and after major rituals like vision quests or for personal purification.

Sweat lodges are unique dome-shaped structures approximately four to five feet high at the center. They are constructed from supple willow branches and covered with rugs, furs and blankets. When a sweat lodge is built according to tradition, it looks like the body of a turtle. This is because the structure represents Turtle Island or Mother Earth. Entering the lodge symbolizes going back into the womb. It provides a safe and secure place to pray for self, others and all our relations. During the ceremony, spirits are invoked, drums are played and songs are sung. Spirits will enter and sing along with the participants and may even talk to them as well. If a person is not ready to hear the spirits, the spirits may not let that person hear them. Only those who are ready to hear the spirits may hear them because that is how compassionate the spirits are.

The Lakota term for sweat lodge is inipi, which translates to "Stone People Lodge." The Stone People, who are often referred to as the "grandfathers," come from the womb of our Mother Earth. The purpose of the inipi is to return to the womb of Maka (Earth) to be recreated. The Stone People become alive again when their spirits come into the Stone People Lodge. Then you can visit with them and tell them your problems. Then the power that pollutes our mind can be released. The fire from the womb of the Earth Mother will come in and destroy bad thoughts and words. Only good thoughts and words will remain. The spirits of the Stone People return our power to us. That's what Spirit does -- the Stone People, fire, water and green (the plants). The inipi is a place of healing, of purification and of prayer for all life.

A sweat lodge typically has four doors (or rounds) to the four directions (or winds), represented with colors, spirit guides and different elements. The number four has long been considered a sacred number in shamanism and Native American spirituality. All events and actions are based on this number because everything was created in fours. The Great Mystery reveals itself as the powers of the four directions, and these four powers provide the organizing principle for everything that exists in the world. There are four winds, four seasons, four elements, four phases of the moon, four stages to humanity's spiritual evolution, and so on.

The whole process is modeled after the Medicine Wheel, which is a universal symbol that can be found in many Indigenous cultures around the world. The Medicine Wheel represents the natural cycles of life and the basic way in which the natural world moves and evolves. The Medicine Wheel represents the archetypal journey each of us takes in life. This journey has four stages or rounds, each associated with a cardinal direction. Four rounds signify fullness, wholeness or completion.

Traditional Water Drums

Water drums are a category of membranophone characterized by the filling of the drum chamber with some water to create a unique resonant sound. The presence of the water within gives the sound far greater carrying power than a dry drum possesses. At close range, the tone of the water drum is often a dull thud, but when properly tuned by an experienced drummer it has a resonance that can be heard for miles. No drum can be heard so far; it is on record that water drums have been heard eight to ten miles over a lake. This capacity to be heard distinctly at a distance, coupled with a peculiar tone quality, gives the water drum a very unique voice.

Water drums are used all over the world, including African music and American Indian music, and are made of various materials, with a membrane stretched over a hard body such as a metal, clay or wood. The Native American Church uses a black iron kettle with three tripod legs. The leather drum head is soaked in water before being stretched over the kettle. Clay pot drums were common among many eastern and southern tribes in the ancient days, those of the South using a semicircular-shaped bowl with legs. The pottery water drum of the Pueblo Indians is a vase-shaped pot with a flared out top. Pueblo water drums vary in size from small pots holding a gallon of water up to huge ones measuring thirty or more inches in diameter. These are filled about one-fourth full of water and the wet hide is tied over the top. When not in use the tanned drumhead and rawhide thong for tying it are kept inside the pot.  

Wooden water drums are the traditional percussion instrument for the Native American Anishinaabe (Ojibwe), Ottawa, Potawatomi, Huron and Iroquois peoples. The Eastern Woodland tribes made far greater use of water drums than any other Native peoples, and attached a greater significance to them. To the Anishinaabe and their many neighboring tribes, the water drum is a true medicine drum of great power, the sacred drum of the Midewiwin or Grand Medicine Society, which is at the core of Anishinaabe religion. Water is synonymous with life, hence it adds great potency to the water drum. Its sacred sound is regarded as one of the most effective ways of establishing connections with the spirit realm, since it travels through space, permeates visual and physical barriers, and conveys information from the unseen world. It is widely used today in traditional Longhouse social dances and ceremonies.

Wooden water drums are made either by hollowing out a solid section of a small soft wood log, or assembled using cedar slats and banded much like an old keg. The drum is filled about one-fourth full of water and a wet leather hide is stretched over the top. For detailed instructions on crafting, tuning and playing water drums, download the free eBook, How to Make Drums, Tomtoms, and Rattles by Bernard S. Mason. This classic 1938 edition is now a free public domain eBook.

The Drum Makers of Cochiti Pueblo

Brothers Carlos and Tomas Herrera, along with their father, Theodore "Arnold" Herrera, of Cochiti Pueblo, produce some of the most sought-after drums in the Native American craft world today. Drummers from all 19 of New Mexico's Pueblo communities come to Cochiti to purchase these drums, which are still made according to ancient practices. Over the years, the Herreras' craft has taken them from Guadalajara, Mexico, to Washington, D.C., for the Smithsonian Institution's Folklife Festival.
 

While Carlos, an environmental scientist, does drum-making in his free time, Tomas recently left the home construction business to focus full-time on making drums. To find the materials for the perfect drum, the brothers wander riverbanks looking for cottonwood boughs and trek into the mountains to collect recently dead aspen logs. Being a relatively soft wood, aspen is not only easier to hollow out, compared with other woods, it also emits a soft reverberation. Cottonwood, having similarly desirous properties, is often used for the large drums that the Herreras make for Plains Indian powwow groups.
 

While a drum has only a few parts, the process of making one is not simple. The multiple steps include aging the logs, cutting them to length, and removing the interior wood, a process for which the Herreras use homemade chisels culled from heavy metal scraps. Then, after preparing rawhide for the drum's head, a lengthy process in itself, the Herreras stretch the rawhide, secure it to the drum with sinew, and do whatever trimming is needed. These steps alone can take up to 16 hours, and that's before they've gotten to painting the drum, or making the drumsticks.
 

While plenty of other Native Americans make drums, Carlos says that their use of ancient, traditional methods for turning an animal hide into a drum head "is something that sets us apart." Today, he says, most drum makers use harsh chemicals, which dry out the hides and make them brittle. The method the Herreras' practice allows their hides to retain some of their original fat and oils, which Carlos says keeps them supple for decades.
 

To accomplish this feat, the Herreras bury their hides, which are sometimes made from elk skins but usually from cowhide, in damp earth for a week or two. They then remove the hair, using old metal files, and degrease the inside, which will still be covered with a lot of fat. To finish the hide, they never use salts, preservatives, or any other special treatment; by the time the hide is fully dry, it has been transformed into odor-free, resonant rawhide.
 

This whole process was passed onto the Herreras from their father, and their grandfather before him. "Even with the knowledge base we have, we struggle at times in getting the hides just right," Carlos says. "There's a lot we don't have control over. Every hide is different, and this is one of the biggest challenges we face. The drying process of the rawhide is out of our control. We can do everything right -- log selection, the carving, the hide preparation, and stretching it with the proper tension. Then maybe the humidity changes or the air pressure, and it loses its tone. At that point, the only option is to remove the leather and begin again with a new hide. We always have to wait until a drum is perfectly dry to find out if it works."
 

"To try to ensure success, we always reach out to my grandpa's spirit and ask him for his help," Carlos says. "We say a little prayer to the spirits to help guide us."
 

To learn more about Cochiti artisans, read "Storytellers and Drums," an excerpt from my memoir Riding Spirit Horse.

The Pueblo Moccasin Makers

Aaron Cajero began making traditional, Pueblo style moccasins while growing up at Jemez Pueblo, which lies in the foothills of the Jemez Mountains northwest of Albuquerque. He was in the seventh grade at the time. Today, his moccasins are worn by hundreds of ceremonial dancers on Pueblo plazas throughout New Mexico, and he usually has a backlog of orders which can take up to six months to fill.
 

Part of the delay in filling moccasin orders is due to his multifaceted life: Cajero is also a hunting guide, a potter, a traditional bow maker, and a teacher at the Jemez elementary school, where he teaches physical education along with history, language, and traditional Pueblo culture. His cultural studies range from the Pueblos' historical forms of government to moccasin-making and spiritual practices. Cajero knows much of this curriculum personally, having served as his tribe's lieutenant governor three times, and as its overseer of traditional religious practices.
 

Before starting a new pair of moccasins, Cajero first traces the dancer's feet on heavy paper, measures foot height, and notes any unusual physical features. He then cuts into a thick piece of cowhide, creating a shape that's slightly larger than his paper outline. After soaking the new sole in water to soften it, he turns up the outer edge -- a extremely difficult task that has left Cajero with very strong hands.
 

For the moccasins' upper wraps, which must be soft and pliable, Cajero prefers to use fine-grade deer or elk hide. Getting quality supplies can be tough, so Cajero sometimes makes his own leather from the hides of deer or elk he hunts himself, or buys from other Pueblo hunters. He prefers a thick hide so that the moccasins hold up over time. Even for the moccasin tops, if the leather is too thin it sags, creating bulges where the wraps overlap. It needs to look nice and smooth.
 

To stitch the uppers to the sole, Cajero typically uses clear fishing line, because it's lightweight, transparent, and relatively easy to work with. For a moccasin that is entirely authentic, however, he uses elk sinew, which must be kept wet during the stitching. Sinew is more difficult than a nylon line to thread through the leather's holes, which he punches with a tool he made himself by embedding a heavy needle into a wooden handle. Cajero has found that sinew makes a tighter stitch, because it tightens itself as it dries, but it takes more time.
 

This means that a pair of moccasins -- when made with sinew, and leather that Cajero has tanned himself -- runs about $1,000, more than twice the price of a standard pair. It costs more to do it all the old way, but it is well worth it for many traditional dancers.

Pass the Pipe

You've probably heard the expression "pass the peace pipe." It might have been when two parties struck a compromise after previously being at an impasse. The phrase comes from early American settlers and soldiers who noticed Indigenous peoples smoking ceremonial pipes during treaty signings. They misunderstood this to mean pipe smoking symbolized peacemaking in Native American culture and hence the word "peace pipe" and phrases like "pass the peace pipe" came about.
 

But, like many conventional American ideas about the history and culture of Indigenous peoples, the term peace pipe is a misnomer, says Gabrielle Drapeau, an interpretive park ranger at Minnesota's Pipestone National Monument and an enrolled member of the Yankton Sioux Tribe of South Dakota. Tribal enrollment requirements preserve the unique character and traditions of each tribe. The tribes establish membership criteria based on shared customs, traditions, language and tribal blood.
 

Many Native Americans smoke pipes -- and not just in recognition of peace, but in ceremony and prayer as well as a way to connect with God. "So, don't use the term peace pipe," Drapeau says. "It's just pipe."
 

But these were -- and are still -- not just pipes. These artifacts, the tradition of pipe smoking and the ceremonies during which they are smoked hold far more significance for American Indian peoples across North America than the misnomer conveys.
 

A Short History of the Ceremonial Pipe
 

There is no singular word for these ceremonial pipes that spans all Native American cultures. The broad term often given to them is calumet, from the French word chalumet, which means reed or flute. Various tribes have their own unique names in their own languages. For example, the Lakota sacred pipe is called a chanunpa. 

 

Ceremonial pipes have been a part of several Native American cultures for at least 5,000 years and are still used for ceremony and prayer. "I grew up this way. It's the only way I know how to pray," Drapeau says. "To me, it is like a physical representation of your connection to God."
 

The legends of how tribe elders first received pipes differ, too. According to Lakota legend, the first pipe was brought to Earth 19 generations ago by a divine messenger known as White Buffalo Calf Woman (known in the Lakota language as Pte-san Win-yan). The pipe was given to the people who would not forget -- the Oceti Sakowin, or Seven Council Fires of the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota nations. The Buffalo Calf Woman came to the tribes when there was a great famine and instructed them about living in balance with nature. She gifted the people with a sacred bundle containing the White Buffalo Calf Pipe, which still exists to this day and is kept by Chief Arvol Looking Horse of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe. Other members of the tribes are also pipe carriers: stewards entrusted with the care of particular ceremonial and personal pipes.

Court Case Threatens Native Sovereignty

A serious threat to Native American tribes across the United states looms large. A decision on the Supreme Court case Brackeen v. Haaland -- a direct assault on the constitutionality of the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA), and by extension, the very right of tribes to be classified as sovereign nations -- is expected later this year.
 

Enacted in 1978, ICWA was part of the federal government's efforts to rectify the incomprehensible harm it caused to Native families through the forcible removal of Native children from their communities into boarding schools or non-Native foster and adoptive homes. Between 1819 and 1969, hundreds of thousands of children were taken from their families and homes. 

 

ICWA establishes minimum standards for a Native child to be removed from their home and empowers tribes to be more involved in adoption and custody procedures for kids enrolled or eligible to enroll in tribal nations. The law gives tribal courts exclusive jurisdiction over members who live on tribal land, in the hopes of keeping families together, and creates a process whereby they're noticed and involved in cases outside of these boundaries.
 

For years, people and organizations hostile to ICWA have tried to erode the legislation through the court system. Should ICWA fall, it's not only adoption and foster cases that will be gravely impacted; the basic foundations of tribal sovereignty could be unwound. Observers in Indian Country have long believed that attacks on the legislation have broader aims in mind than the wellbeing of children, and many anti-ICWA proponents are also perceived as gunning for access to natural resources, mineral rights and more.
 

Calling into question the authority of Congress to deal with tribal nations as distinct sovereigns would have ​major reverberations throughout the field of Indian law. These attacks on sovereignty can be traced back to the Trail of Tears, the deadly westward displacement of five tribes between 1830 and 1850 initiated by then-President Andrew Jackson. The argument made at the time was that the tribes were being overwhelmed by European settlers, and they would be annihilated if the government didn't take them into custody and move them. ​In truth, those tribes controlled the waterways, and Andrew Jackson said, "​We want it, and we are going to take it."
 

Tribal sovereignty predates the coming of the colonial powers. From 1778 to 1871, the United States federal government signed 370 treaties with tribal nations. Many were used as tools to forcibly remove Indigenous people from their native lands and relocate them to reservations. In exchange for the land they had lived on for generations, tribes were offered many now-broken promises from the government: of peace, the provision of health and education, hunting and fishing rights and protection against enemies.
 

According to the Constitution, treaties can only be enacted between two sovereign nations. That status and the right of tribes to self-govern was affirmed in the 1832 Worcester v. Georgia Supreme Court case. It's also grounded in the Constitution through not one, but two clauses, and was reiterated yet again in the 1990s by a Department of Justice memorandum that tribal nations have the unique status of ​"domestic dependent nations." You can help protect tribal sovereignty by supporting the Native American Rights Fund.

FNX - First Nations Experience

First Nations Experience (FNX) is the first and only national broadcast television network in the United States exclusively devoted to Native American and World Indigenous content. Through Native-produced and themed documentaries, dramatic series, nature, cooking, gardening, children's and arts programming, FNX strives to accurately illustrate the lives and cultures of Native people around the world.
 

Created as a shared vision between Founding Partners, the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians and the San Bernardino Community College District, FNX is owned by and originates from the studios of KVCR-PBS San Bernardino. FNX began terrestrial broadcast in the Los Angeles area on September 25, 2011 and went national on November 1, 2014 via the Public Television Interconnect System (PBS satellite AMC - 21 Channel SD08), making the non-profit channel available to PBS affiliates, community and tribal stations, and cable television service providers across the country. 

At the ceremonial unity launch of FNX in February 2011, Cherokee actor Wes Studi confessed he didn't see this coming. "Thank you for proving me wrong," Studi said, speaking at the KVCR/FNX studios in San Bernardino, California. "I once said that I didn't think in my lifetime I'd see a TV channel dedicated to Indian people like you and me, people who are rarely seen on screen in authentic ways. We're making history with this powerful new media tool. This is something I can tell my grandchildren about -- I'll tell them I was there when it launched."

San Manuel Tribal Chairman James Ramos said FNX is "fulfilling a dream our ancestors had ... using the resources we have built through gaming. It's important that people know what our ancestors had to go through so we could be here today. It's time for us to change negative perceptions about indigenous peoples in mainstream audiences. We need to stand together as one voice and make things better for our people."

Ramos added context from his own tribe's past. "There was a time in California's history when there was an effort to get rid of Indian people; we were shot and killed here in the San Bernardino Mountains," Ramos said. "Many people never heard that story, and today some people don't want to talk about that history. But it's important that we do so that we can learn from the past and move forward working together for a better future."

FNX is working diligently to obtain channel carriage in as many communities as possible across the United States. Currently, FNX is carried by 22 affiliate stations broadcasting into 25 states from Alaska to New York and has a potential viewing audience of more than 74.5 million households across the United States! Several additional stations have also begun streaming FNX digitally throughout their communities and states. More new stations are always coming on board, so stay tuned -- FNX may be available in your city very soon! If you'd like to get FNX carried in your community, please reach out to your local stations, cable and satellite service providers. I can't recommend FNX enough and best of all it is totally free!

Remembering Indigenous Rights Advocate James Abourezk

A few days ago, we lost a tireless champion of the rights of the Indigenous Peoples of North America. Retired South Dakota United States Senator James Abourezk, the architect of the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA), passed away at his home in Sioux Falls on Friday, Feb. 24 on his 92nd birthday. James George Abourezk was born in 1931 in Wood, South Dakota, the son of Lebanese immigrants. Growing up on the Rosebud Indian Reservation, he spoke only Arabic at home and did not learn English until he went to elementary school.
 

After high school graduation in 1948, Abourezk served in the US Navy during the Korean War. Following military service, he earned a degree in civil engineering from the South Dakota School of Mines in Rapid City in 1961, and worked as a civil engineer in California, before returning to South Dakota to work on the Minutemen missile silos. At the age of 32, he decided to pursue law, and earned a J.D. degree from University of South Dakota School of Law in Vermillion in 1966.
 

Abourezk began a legal practice in Rapid City, South Dakota, and joined the Democratic Party. He ran in 1968 for Attorney General of South Dakota but was defeated by Gordon Mydland. In 1972, Abourezk was elected to the U.S. Senate, where he served from 1973 to 1979, after which he chose not to seek a second term. He was the first chair of the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs. His legislative successes in the Senate included the 1975 Indian Self-Determination and Education Assistance Act, as well as the American Indian Religious Freedom Act of 1978. The American Indian Religious Freedom Act gives federal protection to the traditional religions of the American Indian, Eskimo, Aleut, and Native Hawaiians.
 

Abourezk's signature legislation was the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA, 1978), designed to protect Native American children and families from being torn apart. Native American children have been removed by state social agencies from their families and placed in foster care or adoption at a disproportionately high rate, and usually placed with non Native American families. This both deprived the children of their culture and threatened the very survival of the tribes. This legislation was intended to provide a federal standard that emphasized the needs of Native American children to be raised in their own cultures, and gave precedence to tribal courts for decisions about children domiciled on the reservation, as well as concurrent but presumptive jurisdiction with state courts for Native American children off the reservation.
 

In 1973, Senators Abourezk and George McGovern attempted to end the occupation of Wounded Knee by negotiating with American Indian Movement (AIM) leaders, who were in a standoff with federal law enforcement after demanding that the federal government honor its historical treaties with the Oglala Sioux nation. The Wounded Knee Occupation began on February 27, 1973 when about 200 Oglala Lakota and followers of AIM seized and occupied the town of Wounded Knee, South Dakota. The occupation lasted for a total of 71 days, during which time two Lakota men were shot to death by federal agents and several more were wounded. It was a key moment in the struggle for Native American rights.
 

The summer after the occupation of Wounded Knee, Abourezk introduced the American Indian Policy Review Commission Act, which created the eleven-member commission to study legislation with the goal of addressing key issues in Indian Country. He served as its chairman until its landmark report was published in 1977. He took the gavel as chairman of the Select Committee on Indian Affairs from its creation in 1977 to 1979, when he left the Senate.
 

In 1980, Abourezk founded the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee, a grassroots civil rights organization. In 1989, he published his Advise and Dissent: Memoirs of South Dakota and the U.S. Senate. He was the co-author, along with Hyman Bookbinder, of Through Different Eyes: Two Leading Americans -- a Jew and an Arab -- Debate U. S. Policy in the Middle East (1987).
 

After his retirement from the Senate, Abourezk worked as a lawyer and writer in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He continued to be active in supporting tribal sovereignty and culture. Since 2005, he chaired the Lakota People's Law Project Advisory Committee. The Lakota People's Law Project is committed to defending the rights of South Dakota's Native American families, exposing the epidemic of illegal seizures of Lakota children by the state of South Dakota, working towards the structural solution to end this injustice. Just last year, Sen. Abourezk assisted their legal team in filing an amicus brief supporting ICWA with the United States Supreme Court. Later this year, the High Court could overturn the senator's landmark piece of federal legislation -- and that poses an imminent threat to Native families and sovereignty.

However Wide the Sky: Places of Power

Pamela Pierce, founding partner and CEO of Silver Bullet Productions in Santa Fe, New Mexico recently announced that "However Wide The Sky: Places of Power" has received an Emmy award in the Best Documentary category. This beautifully filmed documentary originally aired on the New Mexico Public Broadcasting Station. Narrated by Indigenous actress Tantoo Cardinal, the documentary explores the history and spirituality of the Indigenous people of the American Southwest, who are deeply rooted in the land. Since the beginning of time, they have been stewards and protectors of their home lands, past and present. When the Pueblo people pray, they pray for the living land as far as they can see. However wide the sky is, this is who they pray for.

Pierce worked with tribal leaders to film on the land. The areas chosen are: Chaco Canyon, Bears Ears, Zuni Salt Lake, Mount Taylor, Pueblo of Santa Ana, Taos Blue Lake, Mesa Prieta and Santa Fe. These places intimately connect the people and their beliefs to the natural world. This is their story, of the land and who they are. Pierce says the concerns about the use, misuse, development, drilling and mining of scared places in New Mexico began a conversation between Silver Bullet Productions and tribal leaders about the importance of education in 2016.

 

"The land was treated as a commodity, something to be owned, mined, drilled or developed," she says. "In order to protect land and water rights, it seemed that educating about the significance of land might help alert those leaders. The more we know, the better we do. Film can be a powerful tool to change thinking, and motivate people to vote. The danger to land, and the fight to protect land, will always be an issue worth fighting for, regardless of culture or national origin. All land is sacred, and it is a universal concern worth fighting for."
 

The documentary features New Mexico's Chaco Canyon and Utah's Bear's Ears, which is significant because the locations are under siege. Bear's Ears is a modern day story of government versus layers of culture, and the risk of development if the power and policies of the U.S. shift -- it is just how fragile the protection of land is. Chaco Canyon, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is facing drilling for fracking wells. It's not just the wells and the roads that have an impact on the land. Tribal leaders see it as a real threat to their spiritual well being. Pierce thought it was important to really put that out there for the public to see and make them understand why this issue is important to tribes. From their perspective, the land does not belong to them. They belong to the land.
 

Pierce says some of the themes in the film include a distinction between stewardship and ownership, the layers of cultural life on every piece of land, no place is ever abandoned, but remains living from the ancestors who have come before, places have shared cultural history and the difference between being from a place, and of a place. Here is the trailer.