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Hyemeyohsts Storm My name is Hyemeyohsts Storm. My first book, Seven Arrows, was published in 1972 by Harper and Row. In Seven Arrows I introduced for the first time ever written, the Way of the Medicine Wheels to the modern world. The Medicine Wheels are a Native American Spiritual Philosophy and Earth Science that reaches far back into antiquity. Interwoven with these teachings, I shared stories, for the first time, of the Indian wars of the late 1800’s in North America, from the Native American perspective.

Seven Arrows was the book that launched the first Native American division of a major publishing house in the United States. It has been translated into many languages and has been in print for 35 years.

Before I speak further about my work as an author and spiritual chronicler, it is important to introduce a little of my background. It is crucial because my youth had so much to do with my decision to become a writer.

I was born in 1935 on the Northern Cheyenne reservation and raised on the Cheyenne and Crow reservations, which exist side by side in Southeastern Montana. I am an enrolled Indian on the Northern Cheyenne Reservation; my enrollment name is Arthur Storm Jr. Hyemeyohsts is my Cheyenne name; given to me by Frank Waters of Busby when I was born.

Pearl Eastman, my kind and gentle mother, and her very large extended family, of many tribes and reservations, birthed me into a world that was massive. There was not only the large extended Indian and Breed family of the Cheyenne and Crow reservations, but there were other relatives on many others reservations too – including relatives who married into Mexico.

I am a Breed Indian, of many places and many races. My mother, Pearl, was Cheyenne, Sioux and Irish-American. She was born in a tipi, among the first generation of Native Americans to be born in captivity on the reservation. My father, Arthur, was born in North Germany, and became an American. He left Germany just after the First World War, and came to America in search for his “Indian Princess.”

My mother and father had four sons, and I was the oldest. Sadly, when I was still a young boy, my father died from belated mustard gas poisoning from the war. My mother already had been widowed very young, and left with two small children, when she married Arthur. When my father died, Pearl was left with six children to feed and was thrown into desperate poverty on the reservation.

From the time I could walk I was interested in storytelling, whenever the old people told stories of ancient histories or teachings, at ceremonial and social gatherings.

The Yellowtail family of the Crow reservation spiritually adopted me, and I became the spiritual grandson of the renowned late Sun Dance Chief, Tom Yellowtail.

Because my mother, Pearl, could speak many Native American languages, as well as English and Mexican, she became a translator for many of her elders, teachers, storytellers and Chiefs.

In time I also learned to be a translator, and slowly began to translate for some of the old storytellers and teachers. Many of these old people were highly educated and eloquent in their own languages, but did not speak English.

I loved the wild heart of the land where I grew up. I had thousands of square miles to roam, play and learn to survive. I learned by listening to the old people, and listening to the land. And even with my extreme circumstances of poverty and racism on and off the reservations of my youth -- I dreamed of learning of the Medicine Ways, the histories and stories of my elders. Somehow their words spoke to my troubled heart.

As a mixed blood Native American youth, (called a “Breed” on the reservation), I was confronted with racism from both Indians and Whites alike. Certain Indians taunted breeds for not being “full-blood” and the whites called Breeds and Indians “prairie niggers.” But powerful and educated elders of different tribes saw that my “mixed blooded-ness” could be a strength -- especially with my curiosity and love of the old stories and knowledge. They recognized that I could become a bridge between them and the world beyond the reservation. Slowly certain elders began to quietly teach me.

My most important teacher was a Mayan Holy Woman, Healer and Zero Chief. Her name was Estcheemah. She was the wisest, most powerful and important human being I have ever known. She and her Circle of other Elders and Chiefs, tested me and then began to teach me for many years.

Estcheemah taught me to have respect for the things that had been given, here in this world, our Sacred Earth. She said that I should celebrate the opportunity of being born to Life to Grow as a Spirit.

The fact that Estcheemah, the Zero Chief, was a woman, was profoundly important in making me confront many of my erroneous cultural beliefs about myself. She revealed to me the true face of greatness, in that she pointed out how precious life is, while showing me the power and balance we all can possess but seldom recognize.

When I became an adult, Estcheemah insisted that I attend a few colleges to broaden my education. I did this, but never took a degree, because I always had to leave school in order to work to support my family. Because of this, it took many years to design, write, illustrate and complete my first book, SEVEN ARROWS.

The Medicine Wheels are very old. They are as ancient as the first Americans themselves. SEVEN ARROWS was a simple introduction to our Medicine Wheels. I followed my first book, eight years later, with my second, more poetic work, SONG OF HEYOEHKAH. Yet, it was not until my third book, LIGHTNINGBOLT, that I told the story of my early learning, and introduced my teachers. It was then that I could delve much more deeply into the spiritual teachings and histories of the Medicine Wheels.

The knowledge was taught to me by Estcheemah, one of the latest of a long, unbroken line of Zero Chiefs. Much of their information was studied and taught in many ancient Temple-Schools of the Americas and passed down from teachers to apprentices for thousands of years. In LIGHTNINGBOLT I worked to make this knowledge accessible to every reader.

When my first book, SEVEN ARROWS was published there was a strong, positive response by literary critics from newspapers and magazines in America. And many thousands of people wrote to me, in the first few years, who were very moved by the stories and knowledge found in the book. However, there were also two, small but vociferous groups that immediately set upon SEVEN ARROWS, soon after it came out.

Part of the difficulty was that the “primitively” of Native Americans had been so ingrained into American and European thinking that there were those who would not accept the existence of the Medicine Wheels, or the highly sophisticated discipline of thought that was born from them.

In truth, my elders knew that many Native American youth, of my generation, both on and off the reservation, were being raised predominantly with the white view of native history. The teachers and elders who were the Carriers of the Medicine Wheels, and Keepers of ancient histories and ceremonies, had had to go into hiding during the Indian wars, and had to secret the teachings, among a very few apprentices, so the information would not be revealed and perish. The secrecy was meant to keep the information intact.

However, by the 1950’s, many of the Chiefs and teachers of the Medicine Wheels, among the tribes, understood that if the secrecy continued for too long, the majority of native youth would forever be left sad and ignorant of the richness and sophistication of the beautiful knowledge of their ancestors. Yet the Medicine Wheels and ceremonies still could not be brought out into the open because of the continual “extremist rightwing” religious pressures and tribal politics on the reservations, which disallowed true participation in ceremonies and teaching. It was decided by my teachers and their large extended Circle of Elders, that the best way to protect the Medicine Wheels, and certain teaching stories and ancient histories, was to publish them so that all Indian youth, on every reservation.

The Teachings of the Medicine Wheels are a great inheritance that belongs to all of Earth’s people. The legacy of the Medicine Wheels renews our understanding of the wondrous intelligence of our Mother Earth, and Creation, and teaches that without healing of the Self, there can be no lasting healing in the world.

They taught that all life, and the natural laws of our Earth, evolved from Creation, and reflect the design of Creation. It became obvious to the Zero Chiefs of ancient times, that the quintessential balance of the Universe and all of Life is the Balance of female and male. Creation in the ancient language of the Zero Chiefs is WahKahn and SzKwan. WahKahn means Creatress Mother, and SzKwan means Creator father.

To understand this -- consider the great size of one Galaxy. Just one Galaxy contains hundreds and billions of stars. Think of the immenseness and the extreme depth of a single Galaxy; this Great Medicine Wheel of stars is many millions of light years wide and deep.

Our Sacred Galaxy, in which our Sun, Moon, Planets and Earth are located, is an Egg Shaped (Disc shaped) Galaxy with over a hundred billion stars. Each star is a sun. Our Sun is located about two-thirds from the Center of our Galaxy; our Great Milky Way.

Imagine, if you will, the fact that there are hundreds of billions or even trillions of other Galaxies in our Universe. This is certainly true Greatness; however, everything created within Endless Space, is composed of atoms, one of the smallest of substances.

At the Center of each very tiny Atom is a Nucleus (its middle). As an example of how tiny each atom is – our bodies are composed of mega numbers of Atoms. One cell in the human body contains approximately 100 trillion atoms.

Consider how many Atoms make up one Sun.

Sacred Being-ness is “All Knowing”. In ancient Greek this All Knowing is called the Great Mind of Creation. This is also the description of the Great Thus-ness of Being which is the Being of our Creatress and Creator; WahKahn and SzKwan.

It was this Grand Intelligence that Created All Things – every sun, planet, moon and every Galaxy. It was this same Great Intelligence that Created hundreds of billions of Galaxies.

Everything was born from the Zero. There is no word in English to describe the Zero – other than saying that our Teachers, of the America’s call this Great Sacred Zero – Beingness and Beginningness.

The Zero does not mean “nothing” it means Everything and Births all Numbers. All of Everything was born from the Sacred Zero; all the trillion / billion Galaxies, all suns, planets and living Earths. This is WahKahn and SzKwan; our Creatress Mother and Creator Father.

My teachers said to me: “It was The Sacred Mind of WahKahn and SzKwan that Created the Galaxy you dwell within; the Sun that gives you life, the Moon that gives Energy, the Earth that birthed you and the Planets that sing of your Destiny. All this is only a tiny portion of the Galaxy you call the Milky Way.” The Energy that is the Soul of the Sub Atomic World is One with The Sacred Mind, the Grand All Knowing; the Sacred Zero. It is this incomprehensible Perfect Intelligence that is the Energy of The Sacred Mind that created all Matter and all Galaxies. All Elements of Matter is the very Substance and Spirit-Energy of The Sacred Mind. This is also called The Beingness.

The Sacred Mind—the Goddess and God of all Things—designed a Miracle. We known the phenomena as: the Past, the Present, the Future and Movement. The Present does not exist without the Past – it is seamless and existing simultaneously. The Future with Movement exist simultaneously and depend upon one another.

It was The Sacred Mind that Created all within Creation and it was this same Great Intelligence that breathes with you as the wind. This Sacred Mind is both female and male, and is Creation, our Creatress Mother and Creator Father that gave rise to all things within Creation, including we humans.

Life is everlasting and evolves through cycles of birth, growing, changing (death) and renewal. The Spirit of humans will have the choice of Rebirth.

Great Distances are within Space and Time – yet, there is no great distance within the person that you are. You are made up of mega- trillions of individual atoms, yet, you are a multi-dimensional unified being called a human.

It is this way with Creation, WahKahn and SzKwan; The Unified Mind and Beingness of Endless Space has no distance. All Life exists within the great Universal Mind and Beingness of Creation. There is always need to remind ourselves that this is the Great Sacred Zero – it is Everything and is the Universal Medicine Wheel.

There are enormous distances on Earth, but for the our Earth there are no great distances; there is only the Mind and Beingness of Earth. It is this way with The Absolute, Creation too. There is Eternity and Endless Space with its numberless Galaxies – yet, this is the Being of The Sacred Mind; the Being of Creation that has no distance within Itself. There is no distance between the person that you are and The Sacred Mind -- because Sacred Beingness is your very Being.

We humans exist within Creation, and are part and particle of Creation. Creation does not exist somewhere, “else.” -- we are part of the countless atoms swirling within Creation’s Great Mind and Beingness. Sacred Beingness is All Understanding, perfect Love, total forgiveness, All Experiencing and intimate Knowing.

The Chiefs teach that every human is a Spirit that wanted to Experience Life in that they desired to Know the Self that each one of us are. Life tests and challenges every human born; it is in this way that we learn and grow Spiritually, Physically, Emotionally and Mentally. It was The Sacred Mind that gave all Beings Life and a Body to Experience the incredible phenomena we know as Life.

It was Mother and Father Earth is exists as One with WahKahn and SzKwan; each is a Reflection of the Other. WahKahn and SzKwan breathed Life into your very Substance; you were Born to Life. Hold Life precious and remain mindful of the Intelligent Beingness of Endless Space that gives you Life Experience. You Breathe Eternity as you breathe the Air of Earth.

The Spirit, that you Are, is Deathless in that you are unified with and part of the Sacred Mind and Beingness that Created you.

All of Substance Created throughout Space -- is Experiencing and ever Evolving, within constant Renewal.

Whenever Spirits are Born into Substance they are Experiencing, ever Evolving, within constant Renewal. There is the Eternal Watcher, this is your Deathless Spirit -- that is One with Sacred Beingness. You are the Watcher and you are the one Learning while you Experience who you are while you Live. You are the true Witness to all that you Are -- and everything that you will do while you Live. Your other Witness of your Learning and the Self that you Are – is Life and the Sacred Earth that Birthed you.

Life and Earth will not judge you. Life has given you choice – yet, all is not your choosing. There are the many challenges of Life. These challenges have been called by you and pressed in upon you. Everyone will learn from their challenges. There is no Growing without challenge. Your greatest challenge is meeting your Self and teaching your Self within your interactions with Life; all Beingness of Earth, including humans.

The next great challenge is the Eternal Nature of Challenge itself -- Experiencing what Life will reveal to you and share with you while you live.

Lift yourself up Spiritually, Physically, Emotionally and Mentally to meet these challenges. Ask Creation to watch over you -- and all that you do. Ask Her-Him to be with you while you make Medicine and Learn. Celebrate this Grand Giving while you live and have the opportunity to share with Life and all other beings in Life.

Hyemeyohsts Storm

Words are Holy
English version

Words are Holy

I am called a visionary. Like many other poets and writers I talk in a different language then the one spoken on an everyday basis. Visionaries speak the language of the Cosmos, Earth language, Spirit language and the language of the heart. A word can bring down a house or rise up a nation. A word can be a slip of the tongue and a sound that touches our innermost Spirit.
The Garden
English version

The Garden

A vegetable garden, no matter how small it may be, is a source of magical light. Gardens are made of clouds, sunshine, moonlight, star light, bird songs, rich soil, water and mystical seeds. The laughter of children, at their play, splashes gardens with a certain kind of joy that they make into honey.

Gardens have very long memories. Ten thousand years is not a very long time for them; yet, they think about now, more than they do yesterday.

Music can be tasted by gardens. Classical music has a taste of last year’s grapes – while folk songs taste like homemade marmalade.

Gardens enjoy every kind of color – especially the lovely hues of Spirit that visit each night and day.

Gardens love to mix languages together and place the stories they tell at their roots. The roots combine these tales into tasteful conversation. Prayers said in a garden, tears shed and plans for tomorrow become fragrances of hope that everyone can enjoy.

Little people, sprites of every kind, gather in gardens at twilight. It is a time of fortune telling and merry making for them.

Years are gathered together by gardens. You can find every season there too; winter, spring, summer and autumn.

Names are traded by gardens. They do this in celebration of health and grand giving; however, the names are always secret.

Every garden learns to count very early in life. They can add, multiply, divide, subtract and know the root of every number.

Gardens teach adults to care, they teach kids how to taste, kittens how to chase and young women how to braid daisies into their hair.

Gardens are great listeners. They listen to ocean songs, springs singing, the winds tremolo, the rustle of leaves, poetry, laughter and the rain.

There is no room for mistakes in a garden because everything is in the process of growing. Sowing, harvesting, sharing, preparing and brightening are always cultivated.

Gardens are our principal source of Light. Gardens prepare Light as a bright Wish fulfilled. Light is an arrangement of beauty, charm, love, and color that is very Holy.
An Excerpt from The White Lodge
English version

An Excerpt from The White Lodge

(reprinted with permission from Song of Heyoehkah, Ballantine, 1981.)

There was a guard standing at the gate, but the gate had rusted years ago, and only parts of it remained. The wall, too, had fallen from neglect. There were great gaps where it had crumbled. But the strangest thing about the wall and the gate were the places that were shiny new and seemed to be built from gleaming metal. The guard was young, but her clothes were old and ragged. She carried an assortment of weapons, most of which were old and useless.

“What is your name?” the guard asked in a tired monotone.

“Estchimah,” she answered.

“In this city you are No Name,” the guard replied in her monotone.

No name took four steps into the city and became totally lost. She wandered up one street, down another, around and around. The city seemed to be a maze. No Name sat down, confused. After a while, she looked up and asked a passerby which way led out of the city.

“Why do you want to leave the city?” the passerby asked.

“The streets twist and turn and confuse me,” she replied.

“Go to the temple known as Earths of Foxes,” a woman offered, pointing the way.

A man and a woman guarded the temple door. They were twins and very old. No Name walked up to the door. Before she could ask permission to enter, the twins opened the way. Despite their great size, the doors opened smoothly, without the faintest sound.

“Enter,” the twins commanded.

No Name entered.

“Sign your name,” a plainly dressed woman said quietly.

“I cannot see!” No Name said, trying to shade her eyes. The foyer she now stood in shone brighter than the brightest day. Those who had built the temple used cut glass, mirrors and crystal to reflect the light from every direction into the foyer. Dazzling rainbows glistened through the millions of crystals and were magnified a thousand times by the mirrors covering the walls, ceiling and floor. In the middle of the room was a statue of clear polished glass. The image was of a very beautiful nude young woman.

“This light is unbearable!” No Name screamed. “What could the builders have possibly had in mind, to make it so beautiful and yet so painful?”

“This is the Moon Room,” the plainly dressed woman answered. “This room reflects the light from the moon and the stars. It is very beautiful to see.”

No Name woman noticed that the plainly dressed woman did not blink from the unbearable light, and she thought that the woman must be blind.

“Wouldn’t it be better if your guests arrived at night?” No Name asked.

“No,” the plainly dressed woman answered. “No one enters after dark.”

“I have come here to ask for directions out of the city,” No Name said.

“Go to the room called Boundary of Blood. It is through that passageway and down the hall. It is the first door on your right,” she said, bowing low.

The darkness of the hall soothed No Name’s eyes. As she wandered, she noticed the walls were covered from floor to ceiling with delicately carved inscriptions. Each was written in a separate language. Every language ever spoken on the earth was represented, and each told the same story. Small statues also lined the hall, each one the same size. These had been carved and molded from every material imaginable, from the most common things to the most precious stones and gleaming gold and silver, including substances of a future time, still to be discovered.

No Name thought many of the statues pretty. She touched a few of them, marveling at their beauty, but she had no true understanding of their exquisite artistry. She avoided many of the more perfect art forms either because she didn’t understand them or because she found them repulsive. She stopped when she came to four long rows of soldiers, each one different in its armor and weaponry, each from a different age. She smiled. Their machines and their uniforms held her in fascination for a long while. However, the longer she admired these forms, the more aware she became that something was wrong about them. She looked more closely and slowly a horror crept over her. Their faces were all the same! She picked up one of the statues and studied it closely, trying to see what it was that frightened her. There it was! Just below the skin was the grinning face of indescribable terror! Shaking, she dropped the statue to the floor and ran.

Finally, she stopped and leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Then she noticed the door inscribed “Boundary of Blood,” the door the blind woman had told her to enter. She opened the door and stepped inside.

The room seemed to explode in her face. It appeared to have no end. It was a composite of geometrical lines, colors and shapes alive within their own force of millions of intersecting points. An old grandmother suddenly emerged and walked toward No Name. Her clothes made her nearly invisible with the color and lines that flowed around her.

“Welcome, my child,” the old grandmother said, bowing low. “My name is Dance Hammer.” The lance and bow are at your feet. Herbal sweet grass has been placed upon the fire, and the moon and the stars are reflected in the dark pool of your remembrance.

“You have brought yourself into the Maze. Four sleeping lions have been awakened. These lions are each of a different color. The black lion hunts in the Sacred Mountains and has been married to the Medicine Deer. The white lion hunts in the forests of everything taught and is married to erect horns, the antelope. The golden lion hunts along the great river and is married to the thunderbird. The red lion hunts upon the prairies and has married with Sweet Medicine.

“There is a new language spoken here. It is the language of questions. My name is Upside Down, and I am the keeper of this lodge. I am holding the bowl of worry. It is a bowl carved from the wood of the Sacred Tree. The humans have placed the bowl in my hands. The humans carved it from the roots of the Sacred Tree.

“Many have visited the lodge and have asked for the carved bowls because they feared the lions. The lions are four voices when you take them from this lodge. One bowl is pure gold when you take it from this lodge. It will make you rich, and the other will make you poor.

“My robe is yours for the asking.

Do you have a question, little sister?” the old grandmother said.

“I am seeking directions,” No Name answered.

“Go then to the room upon your left. It is across the hall. Bless you, my child,” Dance Hammer said, bowing low.

No Name entered the second room. Its name was written above the door. Its name was Painted With Colors Having Eyes. The room seemed to be painted in moving water.

“Welcome to the Lodge of Shadows,” my child. “My name is White Buffalo Robe,” the old grandmother said, bowing low.

“I need directions out of the city,” No Name said.

“I know,” White Buffalo Robe said as she sat down. “But first I will tell you a story. There was a large camp of People and they were confounded by the many thousands of mice that were among them. They sat together in a circle to discuss their problem, and they decided to call an owl amongst them to eat the mice. And the chief sat the owl upon his own head. But the mice did not diminish, and a second owl was called, and a third, then hundreds. After awhile, everyone had an owl upon their head. And still the mice did not diminish. A little child saw these things and asked the grandfathers why everyone had owls upon their heads, but they would not answer because they were ashamed.

“If you wish to be rid of the mice, the little child said, then bring a cat into the camp. And the people listened, and the owls, all but a few, flew away, and balance was brought to the camp.”

“My problem is not owls,” No Name laughed. “It is directions that I need.”

“Then here you are,” White Buffalo Robe said, bowing low. “Go to the room that is upon your right, down the hall. Peace, my child, peace.”

No Name found the third room and entered. Its name was Burning of Waters.

“Welcome, my child. My name is Dream Ring,” another old grandmother said, bowing low.

“Why is this room so plain?” No Name asked.

“Drink this,” Dream Ring said. “It is from the green fruit of the Sacred Tree.”

No Name drank, and suddenly saw and felt the fire.

“Why doesn’t the fire burn me?” No Name asked.

“Because you trusted me,” Dream Ring answered.

“I think that I am lost,” No Name said. “Can you help me?”

“Yes,” Dream Ring said, as she sat down by the young woman. “Here is a story. These are Four Arrows. The white one will become red when you give it to your teacher. The green one will become blue when you give it to your teacher. The green one will become blue when you give it to your teacher. The black one will become like lightning with its colors when you give it to your teacher. And the gold one will become like the sunset when you give it to your teacher. Go to the room known as belonging To The Sun, and give these medicine arrows to your teacher.”

“Thank You,” No Name said, bowing low.

“Thank you, my child,” Dream Ring said, bowing low.

No Name went as she was instructed to a room that was named Belonging To The Sun. She was greeted there by a woman who was dressed in plain clothes.

“You are the grandmother who was blind! But now you can see!” No Name said in surprise.

“Yes, I am. I can see, little sister. My name is Keeper of the Medicines Of The Moon,” she said, bowing low.

“Here are the Arrows that were given to me,” No Name said, bowing low.

“I will bind these arrows within the song of changing that is your medicine,” Keeper of the Medicines of the Moon smiled.

“My medicine?” No Name exclaimed in surprise.

“Lonely person is sitting at the stream that has been given the name of the clouds. Lonely person has discovered a quill pen from magpie’s tail, and she draws signs of the mountains upon birch. She writes in painting from her own blood. She writes the fawn’s dream.”

No Name listened intently as Keeper of the Medicines of the Moon continued.

“Lonely Person could not know that she would marry Heyoehkah. Grandmother deaf woman had given Lonely Person moccasins for her dance that were as beautiful as our sacred lodge could offer, but they weren’t enough. She had hidden them away. She was ashamed because they were not new.

“The turtle had been turned upon its back at that place. The signs of the painters were washed with the rains that touched the earth, the rains that could run under the back of that ancient shell. The water was cool upon the belly of the old turtle, but her dread of the sun grew with each passing cloud. Would she be left alone upon her back to the summer heat?

“She cried out silently to Lonely Person. Lonely Person heard a reflection deep within her heart that spoke to her of the ancient turtle and her painting, but she was so sad she did not understand the cry of the turtle. And this is what Lonely Person did as she sat in the stream of the clouds.

“Lonely Person wept in her heart because she believed she was not beautiful. She believed she could not give further of herself and of the things that sang in her being. She longed to become herself. She longed to dance within the circle of fire that reflected a million eyes of the stars into the camp circle. She translated the turtle’s cry into a bitter painting of sorrow.

“Heyoehkah had been driven from the camp because he was mad. Heyoehkah was alone upon the prairie. He heard Lonely Person’s thoughts and ran toward the mountains with the feelings of spring in his heart. He heard the singing of the earth. The Medicine Leaf falls quietly to the ground from the tree struck with lightning and fire. The Medicine Leaf has been painted upon the face of the mountain by Sweet Medicine. Turtle had stolen the Medicine Leaf from the mountain, thinking it was the power of Lonely Person. Everything was the song in Heyoehkah’s heart, everything was in his mind.

“When Heyoehkah came to the mountain he saw Lonely Person, but he could not approach her because he had been driven from the circle. He made medicine and the mountains heard his talk. They made seven rainbows and they listened to Heyoehkah’s song.

      I walk upon foolish words.
      I run around many waters.
      I am you within wonder.
      Hear what we do not say.
      Open the lodge door.
      No poorer than stone,
      More rich than weeping,
      Introduce me!
      I am Crazy Dog!

“The six grandmothers were awakened by the laughter of a little boy. It was the laughter of Seven Arrows, and they saw far beyond Heyoehkah’s prayers. They began to sing to the center of the earth where Lonely Person had dreamed.

“Stars dance with fireflies upon the earth, for night’s meeting with Dreamer. And so the grandmothers spoke to the fireflies, saying:

                                                            Where are the shadows?
                                                            Where is the transformation?
                                                            Where does everyone walk?
                                                            Can they touch fantasies?
                                                            Does night remember?
                                                            Introduce us!

“Dreamer heard these things, and she thought she would trick Heyoehkah. She would enter the young man’s body so that she could marry Lonely Person.

                                                            Come Heyoehkah!
                                                            Fall asleep.
                                                            Walk with me.
                                                            Open your eyes!

“But when Heyoehkah fell asleep, Dreamer saw the night. It was Lonely Person changed.

                                                            Lonely Person danced,
                                                            Turning the turtle over.
                                                            Red Leaf lit up the night;
                                                            Like a bright fire he sang!

“And Heyoehkah awoke to dance with the young woman who had been given the name South Horse,” Keeper of the Medicines of the Moon concluded.

“She was the camp. She was the People. And Heyoehkah? Heyoehkah is everyone who hears this song. A Crazy Dog’s song!”