As soon as I arrived in San Francisco and went to the first event about The Longest Walk I started to meet people and I started to learn new things. In such a venue, it’s easy to meet up with folks. After all, we’re all there for the event and there is a lot to break the ice with. “Where are you from?”, “Why are you here?”, “How did you find out about it?”, “What’s your name?”

The room that first night at the pot luck kick off dinner was buzzing to be sure. As human nature and the dynamics of such a potentially history making event would have it, people got involved in many types of conversations from the petty mindless talk to serious global problems and events.

I met many people that first night and saw them the next days at the concerts and fund raisers. Then we met again on the ferry boat to Alcatraz Island for the early morning sunrise spiritual ceremony. To see the people you don’t really know awake in the evening is one thing, but to see them early in the morning with the sleep barely washed out of their eyes is something else.

As time went on and the Walk started, we’d all get to see each other often in this early morning unwashed state. We’d even have to be exposed to each others morning breath at times, that’s how close we became while on the Walk.

The usual day would begin at 5:00 a.m. or so. Finding a bathroom was first and foremost, then break down the tents and stow the gear in the backpacks. Breakfast from the converted school bus turned kitchen and the organizational “circle” before the actual walking started for the day. All before 7:00 a.m. The walkers would depart following the Eagle feathered staff and the drumbeat.

My job was to stay behind. I didn’t walk, although I did walk the first two miles of the Walk and plan on carrying the POW MIA flag the last two miles into Washington DC. I was used as a support volunteer and eventually was chosen and accepted the leadership role as the logistical genius who got the base camp moved from each nights camping spot to the next days camping spot. I did this work when I was in the motion picture production business. As a Teamster, I had to organize the movement of vehicles to new locations as the production filming was going on. Of course I got paid for doing it when I worked in the movies. There was no pay involved with The Longest Walk.

It was some of the hardest work I have done, especially lately as I have been not working for wages for some time now. In fact, I realized this and it played a large role in my decision to come home. If I have a hard time working for wages, it isn’t any easier to work for free. Work is work and I accepted the idea that I am older and that younger more able bodied folks can do a better job than I. Besides, getting bronchitis and how I felt physically also helped me decide to scrap my involvement and come home as well.

Before long, the people got comfortable with each other and small groups and cliques formed. The same folks would hang out and walk together, eat together, talk together, sit by the fire together, complain together, pray together and generally be together. Two people, ten people.

These groups tended to be divided by race at first with the Native Indigenous people together, the Japanese together and the whites together. In the case of the Japanese, the language barrier had something to do with that. Not many of us spoke Japanese. But in a short time, we were all learning phrases and salutations in Japanese. The Polish friend, Marek, taught some Polish and the German girl, Uta, taught some German. the Australian folks, Kaelana and Bonnie had no language barrier but instead shared their differences in slang and lingo from the land down under. “She’ll be right, mate!”

I tried to say hello to everyone every time I made eye contact. Many others tried to do the same on a daily basis. But there were those that engaged in conversations regularly and became friends. Good friends, close friends. Maybe life long friends.

Kaelana, Mary, Kari and her husband PJ. Kathleen, Nicky, Marek, Catch The Hawk, Larry Bringinggood and Wayne. Wako, Iko, Aye and Shegecko. Crystal, Goody, Enrique, I miss them all so much. Each had their own personality. Each is my friend. In the case of Crystal, I’ve known her for many years. Her Father is a Spiritual advisor that I have been learning from for a long time. It was good to have someone that I actually knew when I got there. Crystal and I talked frequently and her cell number is on my speed dial.

Conversations ranged from getting to know each other to political and world order opinions to complaining to admiring to sharing life’s secrets. Hugs abounded. Hand shakes too. Maybe that’s how and why I got sick. We’d break up the evening circle and Dennis Banks, the leader and organizer of the Walk, would send a person to start the hand shaking and hugging and we wouldn’t be finished until all 125 or so people had all shaken hands or hugged or both with every other person in the circle.

Here we were, spending every moment with each other, sleeping, waking, walking, working, eating. then we’d meet and greet like we haven’t seen each other in months. It was comical at times, but great fun and so warming to our hearts.

The actual unity that manifested itself amongst the group was galvanizing. There was no race or racial tensions. All accepted all. Questions were answered, customs learned, hidden agendas exposed and all-in-all people came together and agreed to compromise behavior to respect and honor another persons culture. Even the small groups that formed by racial makeup earlier were broken down. Small learning circles took place and we all taught each other about our own traditions, beliefs, cultures and religions.

The monks set the example as they had an immediate comfort level with everyone. They always spoke with respect and paid honor to another human being. If their show of respect for mankind didn’t spread by their walking the walk, then the people were blind. They would hold their hands together at the the breast and bow to everyone, every time they greeted you. It became something we all did to each other as we saw each other or started to talk to each other. If we had something in our hand, we’d use one hand. If our hands were full, we’d just bow.

The Elders were accepted as Elders immediately. It wasn’t about how old a person was. It was their leadership ability and their wisdom that was seen and felt when they spoke. The respect they showed to everyone. There were older people who were not considered Elders and younger ones who were. To not be considered an Elder even if you are old is no bad thing. You just weren’t an Elder, a teacher, a leader.

The Elders always ate first and got to sit in a chair if there were chairs available. I never went into the food line when they announced that Elders should eat first. I humbly waited until someone told me specifically to go to the front of the line or in some cases, someone brought me a plate of food and took me to a seat. You see, I always felt that being an Elder is what someone else says you are. I don’t decide that I am an Elder, others do. I am honored to have been considered an Elder. I am honored to have been asked to sit with the Elders when they were in council discussion the future or making plans for activities or to solve a problem.

The Elders also met with leaders of other Nations as we passed through their lands. They discussed their concerns with us and we reported back to the walker population. The information given will somehow work its way into the manifesto that will be delivered to Congress when the Walk arrives in Washington DC on July 11th.

The concerns were for the environment. Chromium in the drinking water found in wells, uranium mining and the poisons secreted from this practice, the youth and their problems as they form gangs. the sicknesses, the cancers, the poverty. And not all of this only on Indian Reservations. These problems plague America. The wording of the manifesto will be the words of all people, all Sacred life.

The Sacred sites will be mentioned. You know of some of these sites and how they have been and are still being desecrated. Burial sites dug up to make a strip mall, The San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff, and places the Native people have held as Sacred to their being are being lost as grabbing the land for profit by this government and the corporations that run it take, take and take more.

I realized that our homes are Sacred sites. How so? Let me say that a place where life is born, where people die, pray, eat, laugh, cry and feel are Sacred to an individual. When the water is poisoned, when the land is taken and used for profit as the people suffer, we are desecrating another Sacred site, pure and simple. This land was taken and this genocide started over 500 years ago. It’s time to turn this around. Can you live without your profit? Think about this notion if you will.

In any event. The experience was eye opening in some ways, and I was reminded of atrocities in others. Meeting like minded people who don’t harbor prejudice and show love and acceptance to all people makes me be hopeful of the future. Rid ourselves of hatred and greed and the judging of others. Work for peace and justice. Clean the Sacred Earth Mother and work hard to keep it clean. Most of all, love yourself and understand that love is the premise for peace.

The mantra that all life is Sacred means all life. Not just America, not just your family or your values or your money, but all of it. I learned a lot in a short time and I am grateful for the knowledge.

Peace to All

cross posted at round circle

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