Monday, February 14, 2005


Sitting bull stood on a hill overlooking the Little Big Horn. Deep in prayer, he held to his vision that was happening down below. Not wishing to harm, but only for warning. You get what you brought us, right back on your own table. This painting is in the safe keeping of my friend Heath, native american indian, brother. The day I met him, was the first day he walked from the train past my studio. He faced this painting. I saw him a block away. My first words to him, were these, "is this painting yours"? true story. And it's his. since then, he invited me into his circle. bu tthe medicine man heard about my native teacher, I got a heavy dose of what was upside down about my teacher.... these things are happening a lot these days. Indians fighting Indians... sometimes for no good reason. I never claimed I was a representative of any of my teachers. I am myself. I am not indian. My choice is to do the best with my german upbrining and the realization that I grew up with common people who cared for each other. closest thing to that reality I have ever experienced, outside my own family, was at Rosebud sioux tribe, where I was greeted, fed, housed, and nurtured through ceremony. I still learn from it. I love Heath. I am grateful for the welcome to his circle. But I don't use the sweats as places to fuel differences. So, I haven't gone back. I'm fixing my foot , so I can get heath to come with me to Stanford's circle. a new invitation, from another native. Someone who knows these paintings are good for the people, like Heath. I don't need to bring up the folks who invited me to live in their Tee Pee. I don't need to remind myself of how strong I became, in my own long stride, sleeping in that whirlwind. Sacred land smack dab in the middle of Palo Alto. I heard th espirits araound the house. I checked it later. Yes. Marc chagall lived there once. Gertrude Stein, also. Maybe Mark Twain came through, and even Picasso once or twice. Now, it's on the historic national record... in the backyard, a tee pee, a sweat lodge, and the big work these folks do for living is huge. Right now a book is being written inthe adjacent cottage. all the stuff yu would expect from a sacred circle place. So it must be good, even though that is not my circle for sweats. Heath safeguards this painting. His exchange with me paid for my u-haul post eviction. loellat  Posted by Hello

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey Toe, did you hear about Fritz Scholder, painter of American Indians passing away. It was in the NYT obits this morning. He made to 67, not a bad ride althought I would like to last longer under the right circumstances. Shit, that's only 15 years for me. Not a very long time to enjoy this wonderful life. Later, ER.

6:51 AM  
Blogger Toe Knee said...

He was my mentor long distance

he shielded me from the wind.

Now,

Elk rider
rides back from
the forgotten front lines
and delivers his report;

"He died in his show aflow!
with a brush in his hands!"

ce le vie
ce le vie
say the ol folks
ce le vie!

12:02 PM  

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