Sunday, December 7, 2025
My Song Featured in Godfrey Reggio's Latest Film
Sunday, October 26, 2025
Connecting With Our True Self
What Do We Mean by "True Self"?
The true self is not another role we put on, nor is it an idealized version of who we think we should be. It's the part of us that remains steady beneath life's shifting circumstances. Some traditions describe it as soul, spirit, essence, or higher consciousness. Others simply see it as the authentic, unconditioned awareness within us.
This true self is not defined by external achievements or failures. It doesn't rise or fall with praise or criticism. Instead, it is the quiet, observing presence that has been with us since birth--the inner witness that knows joy, sorrow, growth, and stillness. Connecting with it is not about becoming someone new, but rather remembering who we already are at the deepest level.
Why We Become Disconnected
From childhood onward, we are conditioned to fit into the world around us. Family expectations, cultural values, and societal pressures shape how we present ourselves. Over time, we may begin to equate our worth with productivity, status, or the approval of others. In the process, the voice of our true self becomes quieter, harder to hear amidst the noise.
Technology also plays a role. Constant notifications, social media comparisons, and endless information streams keep us outwardly focused, leaving little room for introspection. Many of us live at such a fast pace that we rarely pause to ask: Am I living from my authentic center, or am I just running on autopilot?
Signs of Living Disconnected
Disconnection from the true self can manifest in many ways:
- Feeling chronically restless, anxious, or dissatisfied even when life appears "good" on the surface.
- Making decisions based on obligation or fear rather than genuine alignment.
- Needing constant external validation to feel worthy.
- Experiencing burnout, exhaustion, or lack of purpose.
- Noticing that life feels mechanical rather than meaningful.
These signals are not failures--they're invitations. They arise as gentle reminders that our spirit longs to return to authenticity.
The Journey Back to Self
Reconnecting with our true self doesn't require escaping the world or becoming someone different. It's about cultivating awareness and creating moments of stillness where our inner essence can be felt again. Here are some pathways that support the journey:
1. Silence and Stillness: In silence, the chatter of the mind begins to soften, and the deeper self has space to emerge. Even five minutes of daily quiet reflection can make a difference. Meditation, breathwork, or simply sitting in nature can help us tune into the still presence within.
2. Listening to the Body: Our bodies often carry messages from the true self. Tension, fatigue, or sudden bursts of energy can all signal whether we are aligned with our deeper essence. Practices like yoga, tai chi, or mindful walking bring us back into relationship with our physical being, helping us notice what feels authentic and what doesn't.
3. Authentic Expression: Creativity is a direct channel to the true self. When we write, paint, dance, sing, or build without judgment, we bypass the critical mind and touch something raw and real. Expression without expectation becomes a sacred act of remembering.
4. Inner Dialogue: Journaling or self-inquiry practices allow us to ask deeper questions: What do I truly desire? What beliefs are not mine but inherited? What does my inner voice say when I set aside fear? By writing honestly and without censoring, we create a conversation with our authentic self.
5. Connection with Nature: Nature mirrors authenticity. A tree does not strive to be anything other than a tree. The ocean doesn't pretend to be a mountain. When we spend time outdoors, surrounded by the rhythms of the natural world, we remember that we, too, belong to a larger whole. This perspective eases the ego's grip and allows the true self to shine.
6. Community and Safe Relationships: Sometimes the true self feels safer when witnessed by others who see us without judgment. Being in the presence of trusted friends, mentors, or spiritual communities can nurture authenticity. Through genuine connection, we are reminded that we don't have to hide who we are.
Challenges Along the Way
The path back to authenticity is not always smooth. Old patterns of fear, doubt, or self-protection may arise. The ego, built to keep us safe, can resist change. At times, connecting with our true self may reveal truths that require difficult decisions--leaving a draining job, setting boundaries, or changing long-held habits.
Yet each challenge is also an initiation. As we learn to face discomfort with compassion, the strength of our authentic self grows. The key is patience--remembering that reconnecting is a lifelong journey, not a one-time event.
The Rewards of Living Authentically
When we reconnect with our true self, life gains a new texture. Decisions feel lighter because they align with our core. Creativity flows more naturally. Relationships deepen, since authenticity invites authenticity in others. Even challenges feel different; rather than overwhelming us, they become opportunities to grow and return more deeply to our essence.
Above all, living from the true self brings peace. It doesn't mean we escape life's struggles, but we no longer feel defined by them. We move through the world with a sense of wholeness that cannot be shaken by circumstances.
Returning Home
Ultimately, connecting with our true self is a process of returning home. We are not searching for something outside of us, but rediscovering the presence that has always been within. Each breath, each moment of awareness, is an opportunity to align more fully with that inner truth.
The journey may take courage, but it is the most worthwhile path we can walk. For when we live from our authentic essence, we don't just transform ourselves--we bring more light, clarity, and compassion into the world around us.
Sunday, September 22, 2024
Exploring the Shamanic State of Consciousness
Sunday, August 4, 2024
The Mystical Journey of Shamanic Dance
Sunday, May 31, 2020
Every Step You Take is a Prayer
According to Dan Kraker's coverage on Minnesota Public Radio, Native American women from Pennsylvania to Nebraska to Ontario to Northrup's apartment in northern Minnesota joined in. "This isn't just an Anishinaabe prayer. This is an "all-people-prayer," said Northrup, 70, who is Dakota, widow of the late Ojibwe author Jim Northrup. "The virus isn't going to have prejudice," she said. "It will affect all people. So that's what the prayers are for."
Michele Hakala-Beeksma also danced, but in Duluth. "We literally say that dancing is prayer. That every step you take is prayer," she said. Hakala-Beeksma, a member of the Grand Portage Band of Lake Superior Ojibwe, started dancing about 15 years ago. She sewed about 150 copper cones on to her purple dress herself. "That tinkling sound, that kind of sounds like water, like rain -- that's the healing part that comes in. When you become a jingle dress dancer, there's a responsibility that comes with it. You're dancing for the healing of your people," she said.
The jingle dress dance originated with the Ojibwe people, or Anishinaabe, during the 1918 Spanish flu pandemic. There are different versions of the story about how the dance began. But they all include a little girl who was very sick. Her father had a dream about a dance that would make her better. She wore a dress lined with rows of silver cones. The sound of the jingles healed her. The sacred dance has since been taken up by women throughout Indian County, after it spread through the pow wow circuit in the 1980s.
Ojibwe women were defying the U.S. government when they developed the dance. At the time, the government forbade ritualistic dancing on reservations. So a century after that first pandemic when they danced as a prayer for healing, women from Minnesota and Wisconsin, Utah and Colorado, Kentucky and all around Canada -- danced again, praying for healing.
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Coronavirus Moves Powwows Online
He spots someone from the Menominee Nation, a Wisconsin tribe that hosts competitive dancers, singers and drummers in traditional regalia in late summer.
"Beautiful powwow there," he says.
The emcee from the Crow Creek Sioux Tribe in South Dakota typically is on the powwow circuit in the spring, joining thousands of others in colorful displays of culture and tradition that are at their essence meant to uplift people during difficult times. Amid the coronavirus pandemic, the gatherings are taking on a new form online.
"Sometimes we have this illusion that we're in total control, but it takes times like this of uncertainty and the challenges of the possibility of death to help us step back and reevaluate," said Rencountre, a co-organizer of the Facebook group Social Distance Powwow, which sprung up about a month ago as more states and tribes advised people to stay home.
Normally this time of year, a string of powwows hosted by Native American tribes and universities would be underway across the U.S., with tribal members honoring and showcasing their cultures -- and socializing, like family reunions. The powwows represent an evolution of songs and dances from when tribal traditions were forced underground during European settlement, Rencountre said.
The pandemic has canceled or postponed virtually all of them, including two of the largest in the U.S. -- the Denver March Powwow and the Gathering of Nations in Albuquerque, New Mexico, held in April.
Social Distance Powwow has helped fill the void, quickly growing to more than 125,000 members.
Members from different tribal nations post photos and videos of themselves and loved ones dancing, often in their regalia. The page has become a daily dose of prayer, songs, dances, well wishes, humor and happy birthdays.
In one video, Jordan Kor sits in his vehicle after a shift at a San Jose, California, hospital emergency department. An old Dakota war song he learned as a child that can be a rallying cry was bouncing around his head. He pulls off his mask and cap and sings, slapping a beat on the steering wheel.
"The biggest ones, social distance, keep working in whatever it is that brings you joy and helps you keep connected," said Kor, who is Tarahumara and Wapetonwon Lakota. "And wash your hands!"
The page also hosts a weekly, live powwow with the organizers -- Rencountre, Stephanie Hebert and Dan Simonds -- assembling a lineup of volunteer drum groups, singers and dancers for the hours-long event. This past weekend, Rencountre patched people in from across the country on the live feed.
A marketplace on the site lets vendors showcase their paintings, beadwork, jewelry, basketry and clothing.
An online powwow lacks some of the grandeur of being in person and seeing hundreds of performers fill an arena for the grand entry. It doesn't have a roll call of tribal royalty, singers and champion dancers. And it doesn't have categories for competitive dancing.
But it offers a way to keep people connected.
"When we dance, we are dancing for prayer and protection," said member Mable Moses of the Lumbee Tribe in North Carolina. "No matter what we do, may the Lord always protect us whether we're living or dying."
Moses learned to dance later in life and now competes in the "golden age" category at powwows. In a video of her Southern Traditional dance, she moves around a dogwood tree in her yard slowly but with high energy.
"Even though I'm 72, I'm like 29," she said.
Moses said the dance meant to calm people helps her cope with the fear surrounding the coronavirus, and the difficulty of staying away from others.
Tribal members also are posting elsewhere on social media, including youth hoop dancers from Pojoaque Pueblo in New Mexico.
For those viewing for the first time, Rencountre encourages an open mind.
"We ask them to break down the wall, to feel the dances, to feel the songs, as you're watching," he said. "Don't think about it from a technical point of view. Understand the creation of these songs and dances comes from a place of uplifting."
Leiha Peters grew up doing jingle dress dance meant for healing. The dress is characterized by cone-shaped jingles typically made from the lids of tobacco cans. Now, she does beadwork for her children's outfits and is a Seneca language teacher.
She recently posted a video of two of her children and their cousins doing smoke dance in the living room of her home on the Tonawanda Indian Reservation northeast of Buffalo, New York. Its origins are mixed as a dance for men to bless themselves before they went to battle and a way to clear smoke from traditional homes called longhouses, she said.
Her children grow up knowing the respect and the protocol that accompany the dance and its songs. They also have fun with it, sometimes competing in the family's backyard to win cups of Kool-Aid or bags of candy, Peters said.
"For them, dancing is medicine on its own. It's everything to us," she said. "It's energy, it's athleticism, it's staying healthy and living a better life with food choices. It's not easy doing what they do."
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
The Ghost Dance at Standing Rock
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| Siege at Standing Rock |
For much of 2016, demonstrators in Cannon Ball, North Dakota, withstood tear gas, arrests, rubber bullets and severe weather while camped out in an isolated area that has become known as Oceti Sakowin Camp. While on its face, the encampments are demonstrations against an oil pipeline, some have called the battle between a Dallas-based oil company and the Standing Rock Sioux a larger civil rights movement for Native Americans -- a comparison bolstered by law enforcement's use of water cannons on protesters in late November 2016.
The Last Ghost Dancers
Chase Iron Eyes, a former Congressional candidate and member of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, calls the demonstration "our Ghost Dance." The Ghost Dance was a new religious movement incorporated into numerous American Indian belief systems in the late 1880s in an attempt to revitalize traditional culture and to find a way to face increasing poverty, hunger, and disease. According to the teachings of the Northern Paiute spiritual leader Wovoka, proper practice of the dance would reunite the living with spirits of the dead, bring the spirits of the dead to fight on their behalf, make the white colonists leave, and bring peace, prosperity, and unity to indigenous peoples throughout the region. He also stated that the people must be good and love one another, and not fight, steal, lie or engage in war.
The Ghost Dance was based on the circle dance. Participants joined hands and sidestepped clockwise around a circle, stooping to pick up dirt and throwing it in the air, all the while singing special songs and striving to fall into a visionary trance. Each ceremony lasted for five successive days and was repeated every six weeks. The ritual dance swept throughout much of the Western United States, quickly reaching areas of California and Oklahoma. As the Ghost Dance spread from its original source, Indian tribes synthesized selective aspects of the ritual with their own beliefs.
Brutal Suppression of the Ghost Dance
Wovoka's prophecy of a new golden age, however, did not come to pass. Instead, the peaceful indigenous movement was met by a brutal Army suppression. The Lakotas' white neighbors and reservation officials viewed the movement as a threat to U.S. Indian policy and believed the Ghost Dance ceremonies indicated that the Lakotas intended to start a war. Reservation officials called on the U.S. government to outlaw the dancing. The government dispatched the U.S. Army and called for the arrest of key tribal leaders such as Sitting Bull and Big Foot. Indian police from Standing Rock killed Sitting Bull while arresting him. Two weeks later, on December 29, 1890, members of the Seventh Cavalry killed Big Foot and at least 145 Miniconjou and Hunkpapa Lakota ("Sioux") men, women, and children (casualty estimates range to higher than 300) in the Wounded Knee Massacre, thus eliminating key leaders most opposed to the United States and its Indian policy.
The Ghost Dance died out among the Lakotas after Wounded Knee, but experienced a revival during the 1970s as part of the Red Power movement. To many, the Ghost Dance represented resistance to U.S. Indian policy and American culture and was a rallying point for preserving traditional Indian culture. The Ghost Dancers envisioned a perfect world, a vision of an idealized past that would be restored to those who honored the traditional way of life. It gave people hope amid tragedy. Again, the Sioux stand on the brink of uncertainty, with a new administration in the White House and a president who has ordered the Army Corps of Engineers to reverse course and grant the permits necessary for the Dakota Access Pipeline to be completed.
In a recent interview, Chase Iron Eyes responded to the president's order by declaring, "We are staying. We don't have a choice but to stand up. The world is depending on us. We have been referred to as the Ghost Dancers of our time. The thing that's different though is that we have a world of allies that have supported us because they see themselves in this struggle. We have the critical mass to win and to change the trajectory of our planet."
The battle to protect the land and natural resources of Standing Rock from the threat posed by the Dakota Access Pipeline has only just begun. To help power the movement to protect Mother Earth and win justice for the Lakota people, please visit the Lakota People's Law Project at http://lakotalaw.org/.
Sunday, August 23, 2015
The Hopi Butterfly Dance
The main participants are Hopi youth and young adults who are accompanied by a drummer and a chorus of singers. The participating girls each wear an elaborately painted headdress or kopatsoki made for them by their male dance partners. The imagery includes symbols of the girl's clan and sometimes of her dance partner's clan. The boys wear loosely fitting velvet shirts and tailored kilts that are embroidered with cloud and rain symbols. Everyone dances lightly, keeping time with the constant drumbeat. The dancers' gestures interpret and emphasize each song's meaning: lowering the arms depicts the lowering clouds, moving the arms in a zigzag motion denotes lightning, lowering the palms signifies rain, and lifting the hands symbolizes the growing stalks of corn.
To watch the Butterfly Dance is to be transported to a way of life rooted in the distant past. The Hopi (The Peaceful People) have carried on their ancient way of life and culture in northeastern Arizona for more than 2000 years. To be Hopi is to strive toward achieving a state of total reverence and respect for all things, to be at peace with these things, and to live in accordance with the instructions of Maasaw, the Creator or Caretaker of Earth. The Hopi observe their traditional ceremonies for the benefit of the entire world. Watch the Hopi Butterfly Dance.






