Mother Connie Sez: Want Some Salt and Pepper on That Crow?

This is Mr. Old Black Crow, himself!

If you are a regular visitor here, you may recall the vitriolic rampage Mother Connie went on recently...it was a scathing indictment of soda pop with all its evils.

Well, pass the salt and pepper and tuck a napkin under Mother Connie's chin.  She needs to eat a large helping of CROW.

Here's how it all came down.

Mother Connie and The Normanator would never EVER part with their hard earned cash to buy soda pop with all the toxicity and negative energy and health zapping ingredients.  If it's not in the house, it's not going to be ingested.

Welllllll, here's what happened:  We were invited to a symposium at the Tecumseh State Correctional Institution.  Yes, the state prison.  

SIDEBAR:  Who KNEW the center of our social live would revolve around the prison, of all places?  END SIDEBAR.

The Native American Indian club invited a group of people from outside the prison walls-there were 15 of us-and the whole group of them were gracious, solicitous hosts.  They sacrificed their evening meal to show us warm and generous hospitality.  The repast that lay before us had come from the vending machines and included chips, pretzels, peanuts, sweet rolls and yes, SODA POP.

When I was a little girl my mother taught me that it was polite to take whatever a host offered the guests.  Even if you did not like it or did not believe in it.  

SIDEBAR:  I am so grateful it was soda pop and not worms or some other weird thing.  END SIDEBAR.

So, there I was, soda can in one hand and spicy chips in the other.  I offer my sincere apologies to any reader who feels offended or betrayed.

But this symposium was NOT about the food.  It was about Oneness, Unity, and Honor.  It had to do with Respect, and Hospitality, and Graciousness.  It was all about Gratitude and Goodwill; Listening with the heart and Love for every living thing.

Sometimes the drum is placed in the center of the gym.  This time it was located in a corner.  I inquired about that and I was told that the drummers did not want to take away from the dancers.  At receiving this bulletin I felt deeply humbled and honored.

There was a Grand March to open the ceremony. Everyone was offered sage for purification and we danced around the Freedom Stick, which is sacred.  There was a beautiful prayer offered which expressed thanks for so many things, so many people, all of 'Grandfather's' Creation.  Throughout the evening different groups were honored:  the elderly, those who had served in the armed forces, and guests.  The energy in the circle, near the drum, at the podium, even around the buffet table was electric with the love of the Creator, the Grandfather.  

Those incarcerated men who waited on us hand and foot, replenishing our food and drink, delivering napkins and making sure every need we had was met thanked us repeatedly for coming.  They had never had so many people from the streets.

Some of those people used canes.  But even they were invited to dance in the circle, and dance they did!  The joy on the faces of the dancers defies description.  This was a spiritual event.  There is not language on this plane of existence to describe the absolute perfect joy we experienced in that hall!

Everything about the evening was perfect.  Well, except for the guilt I felt over the soda pop!  But the climax to this splendiforous event was the closing song:  The Freedom Song.  The drum was moved from the corner to the center of the hall.  With one hand the drummers held the sizable Indian drum, suspended at the ends of their arms; with the other hand, they drummed the one-two rhythm and sang The Freedom Song from the bottoms of their very full and loving hearts. The sound of the drum was very different from when it sat on the floor. The reverberation of those drum beats sounded somewhat like thunder and matched the beat of one's heart!  The most Senior member of the group held the Freedom Stick, which was an honor given to him for his station.  The only dancer to wear regalia held the Dance Stick and honored every guest by holding the Eagle feather in the Dance Stick above the heads of the guests.  Just to read this account does not convey the spiritual energy that filled the entire prison campus! 

As we reluctantly made our way from this great event I could not help but wonder why on earth anybody thought the Indians needed a different mode of worship.  Methinks somebody did not take the time to understand the beauty and significance of the Native American Indian's traditions and ceremonies.

Truly, we were transported to another plane of existence.  I can scarcely WAIT for the next symposium.  Here's hoping we'll be invited again.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get some water to wash down that crow!  Then I plan to wash out my mouth with soap!

Connie Baum

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