March 1, 2001: The Sundance continues

I sat facing south within the sacredness of the circle—it’s there, my past shares its lessons. I listened to all things while spreading blood on the trunk of a white pine seedling. We spoke of dedicating each other’s souls to the continued life of the forest. My prayers don’t come with words, for I was born to listen. The message I hear takes the white pine and myself to the unsettled so we may do battle inside the fires of hell. For I as a human have not the right to steal life from life and I’ll die proving it to be.