I consider myself a native traditional Seneca Elder who stands within the circle of life, guided by the laws of the Creator and tied to the Earth like a child to the mother through the umbilical cord—never losing that connection.
.. People’mselves aren’t holy. But what they do can be holy. Living a holy life, that’s what life’s for. Helping others, fighting injustice, standing up for the People, saving our Mother the Earth—those are holy things to do.
But always be sure to remember, it ain’t you yourself who’s holy. People are just people. If God’d wanted folks to be holy, he’d have given’m wings and set’m up on a cloud somewhere playin’ a big gold harp.
Sounds pretty boring to me. Me, I’d rather just be a human being. I’m thankful that’s all I am or need to be.
Bein’ human, that’s a tough enough job for me.
Used to be I kept quiet. I let my husband Hannibal do most of the talking. He was a spiritual leader of the Seneca Nation, though he wasn’t a chief, just an ordinary man, a Wolf Clan Elder. When Hannibal talked, folks listened. He spoke from the heart and they listened from the heart. He changed their lives, like he changed mine. Hannibal made this world a better place, and that ain’t easy to do. Hannibal also wrote poems like me. To tell the truth, his thoughts and words are so mixed with mine I can hardly tell’m apart anymore. No matter. They’re all one piece. Now Hannibal’s gone on ahead and left me here awhile to carry on alone—though my son Richard’s always here for me, like his Dad was. So I’ve raised four kids, and helped with more’n a few grandkids as well. I love every one of’m for their own selves.
That’s how we all need to be loved. That’s how God, the Creator loves each of us. He created us and he loves us, each one of us for our own self.