It was a marvelous night, the sort of night one only experiences when one is young. The sky was so bright, and there were so many stars that, gazing upward, one couldn't help wondering how so many whimsical, wicked people could live under such a sky. This too is a question that would only occur to the young, to the very young; but may God make you wonder like that as often as possible!

White Nights - Dostoevsky

Today they celebrated the Earth Day here at Tech, although the real Earth Day is on Monday, the 22nd. But wait isn't every day we live on this planet an "Earth Day". I wanted to write about my concerns of the environment and the state of the planet as I was walking back here, ofcourse after getting the customary free t shirt. But since eloquence escapes me I give you the words of Chief Seattle to the President of United States. Read them and reflect on how civilization has taken us far from who we are: a thread in the web of life.

CHIEF SEATTLE'S LETTER

"The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?

Every part of the earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, every humming insect. All are holy in the memory and experience of my people.

We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the dew in the meadow, the body heat of the pony, and man all belong to the same family.

The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred. Each glossy reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.

The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give the rivers the kindness that you would give any brother.

If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life that it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also received his last sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers.

Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.

This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

One thing we know: our God is also your God. The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator.

Your destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered? The wild horses tamed? What will happen when the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills is blotted with talking wires? Where will the thicket be? Gone! Where will the eagle be? Gone! And what is to say goodbye to the swift pony and then hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival.

When the last red man has vanished with this wilderness, and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any of the spirit of my people left?

We love this earth as a newborn loves its mother's heartbeat. So, if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it, as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it. Preserve the land for all children, and love it, as God loves us.

As we are part of the land, you too are part of the land. This earth is precious to us. It is also precious to you.

One thing we know - there is only one God. No man, be he Red man or White man, can be apart. We ARE all brothers after all."

Love and Peace to All. Sashi

Notes: "In 1851 Seattle, chief of the Suquamish and other Indian tribes around Washington's Puget Sound, delivered what is considered to be one of the most beautiful and profound environmental statements ever made. The city of Seattle is named for the chief, whose speech was in response to a proposed treaty under which the Indians were persuaded to sell two million acres of land for $150,000." -- Buckminster Fuller in Critical Path.

Some more beautiful words: I do not know. Our ways are different than your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring or the rustle of the insect's wings. The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frogs around the pond at night? I am a red man and do not understand. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond and the smell of the wind itself, cleaned by a midday rain, or scented with pinon pine.

The air is precious to the red man for all things share the same breath, the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days he is numb to the stench. But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. This we know; the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth.

To read the whole speech go here: www.webcom.com

Most people little realise the history of Aboriginal Australia, partly because it cannot be seen and partly because they have little understanding. One of the arguments put forward by the early settlers was that the Aboriginals had not mapped Australia. They little realised that pathways did stretch throughout Australia. Europeans in Australia know these pathways today as ‘Dreaming tracks’ or ‘Songlines’. Aboriginals know them as the ‘Footprints of the Ancestors’ or the ‘Way of the Law’. The Aboriginals sang out the name of everything that crossed their path, birds, animals, plants, rocks and so in this way not only sang the world into existence but mapped Australia. As they walked through the country, they scattered a trail of words and musical notes along the lines of footprints that they created. These Dreaming tracks lay over the land as ‘ways’ of communication between the most far-flung tribes. When an Aboriginal moved into another tribe’s territory, he would learn the Songlines of that tribe and thus would be able to move further through the land.

Today, I’d like to think that in some small way, the Internet is doing the same thing and is creating its own pathways over which words rise up to cross the world. Linking humanity, building friendships and opening lines of communication so that we can better understand each other’s interests. In my imagination I see the trail of the lighted moonbeam, like a chain of wakening paths full of message, faith and eternal hope. Yes, a thousand dark nights might come, but the pathways will forever remain dauntless, voices of comfort, Songlines, calling brother to brother across the world affirming faith in land, nature and God.

I thoroughly enjoyed your pages.

Sue Sue.white@colesmyer.com.au