We Are All One In Spirit. May We All Stay On The Red Path
Following the Red Path
Gifts Received
Rivkah Cohen has not received any gifts yet
The River's Song & The Creator's Song
This was passed on to me & thought I'd pass it on.
Rivkah
The River's Song
Osyio (Greetings - LB) Rabbi Wolf Brother,
I was so happy to hear that our Tsa la Gi (Cherokee - LB) brothers in Tennessee and Texas also hold the opinion that we have Hebrew roots. So much is the same - I follow your teachings about personal prayer in solitude with the Holy One out in nature and I'm moved to tears about the Jewish Perek Shira song of creation. Our meditation, the fringes on our clothes, our language, and our clinging to the One God (in the old way, not the way the white missionaries did to our people) are all signs of our mutual roots. Now that we have DNA testing, there is no doubt.
As a small token of appreciation for the love and respect you have honored our people with, I'm enclosing a film clip of Wayra, a Bolivian Indian who plays the native American flute like we do. To the best of my knowledge, King David also had such a similar flute. May you enjoy it, and may the Holy One bless your journeys in life with smooth and pleasant paths.
Looking forward to the day when the lost tribes will be returned and reunited with mother Israel, your friend and brother, Silver Cloud from Oklahoma
Rivkah
The River's Song
Osyio (Greetings - LB) Rabbi Wolf Brother,
I was so happy to hear that our Tsa la Gi (Cherokee - LB) brothers in Tennessee and Texas also hold the opinion that we have Hebrew roots. So much is the same - I follow your teachings about personal prayer in solitude with the Holy One out in nature and I'm moved to tears about the Jewish Perek Shira song of creation. Our meditation, the fringes on our clothes, our language, and our clinging to the One God (in the old way, not the way the white missionaries did to our people) are all signs of our mutual roots. Now that we have DNA testing, there is no doubt.
As a small token of appreciation for the love and respect you have honored our people with, I'm enclosing a film clip of Wayra, a Bolivian Indian who plays the native American flute like we do. To the best of my knowledge, King David also had such a similar flute. May you enjoy it, and may the Holy One bless your journeys in life with smooth and pleasant paths.
Looking forward to the day when the lost tribes will be returned and reunited with mother Israel, your friend and brother, Silver Cloud from Oklahoma
About
Birthdays
Birthdays Today
Badge
Award Daily
please vote for our network, we are now a 1 Award website, a click to vote website that will give this site awards depending on how many votes there are, so click every day to give your vote!
Thank you from NativeLand.
Award Votes
10,000 votes - Platinum Award
5,000 votes - Gold Award
2,500 votes - Silver Award
1,000 votes - Bronze Award
300 votes - Pewter Award
100 votes - Copper Award
© 2009 Created by Edmond Lonewolf (Uhisati Wahya) on Ning. Create Your Own Social Network
Comment Wall (49 comments)
You need to be a member of NativeLand to add comments!
Join this social network
" A TRUCKERS LAST DISPATCH "
I write this poem,
For truckers alone.
As they hear there loved ones,
On the other end of the phone.
They carry there goods,
To a preset goal.
Don't care what they carry,
Only know they must roll.
White line fever,
I hear it's been called.
When some poor, tired driver,
To sleep has been lulled.
Pushing to fast and hard,
Whachting and following the line
Hoping that when he gets home,
That all will be fine.
But now it has him,
In it's horrible grip.
Could this be the end,
Or even his last trip.
His wheels hit the gravel,
He jerks awake.
Tries to regain control.
His foot on the brakes.
Then he thinks to himself,
About his family waiting at home.
And wonders what drove him,
To endless roam.
He looks to the heaveans,
Please don't let me die.
A truckers last dispatch,
To his dispatcher in the sky.
Written By
Edmond Lonewolf
Copyright © Lonewolf Inc2009 All rights reserved.
HAVE A BLESSED DAY !
" OCTOBER'S CALL '
This time of year, my plans are set,
My destination clear.
To the country I'll be traveling,
For the chill of winter's near.
I'll roam the meadows far and wide,
Memorizing nature's view.
Gaze in wonder at stand of tree's,
There leaves a tarnished hue.
Watching autumn colors bid farewell,
To the day's of summer past.
I must heed October's call and go,
And glimpse the changes while they last.
I'll sense my soul as it grows humble,
Now, more than any time of the year.
As each rainbows painted splendor,
Fills my eye's with grateful tears.
As the land in silent protest,
Tries with color to prolong.
The days of change and harvest,
For the winter will be long.
Yea autumn it does beckon me,
With it's bright October call.
So I must travel to the countryside,
Before the maple leaves all fall.
Written by Edmond Lonewolf
Copyright © 2009 Lonewolf Inc
View All Comments