Red Star Beam Consultants

The trees were talking. And no one had been listening.For decades, foresters believed trees were competitors—silent giants fighting for sunlight, water, and space. Cut down the weak ones, they said, and the strong would thrive.But Dr. Suzanne Simard, a Canadian forest ecologist, suspected something else was happening beneath the soil.So she did an experiment that would change how we understand forests—and life itself.She discovered that trees aren't isolated individuals. They're part of a vast, intelligent, underground network—a "wood wide web" where they share resources, warn each other of danger, and care for their young.The forest, it turns out, isn't a battlefield. It's a community.Suzanne Simard grew up in the forests of British Columbia, Canada. Her family were loggers. She spent her childhood among towering trees, watching them fall and new ones planted in their place.She became a forester herself, working for the logging industry in the 1980s. But she noticed something disturbing: when forests were clear-cut and replanted with a single species—usually Douglas fir—the new trees struggled to survive.Foresters blamed the birch trees growing nearby. "They're competing for resources," they said. "Cut them down so the firs can grow."But Suzanne didn't think that made sense. In natural forests, birch and fir grew side by side, thriving together. Why would they compete in replanted forests but not in natural ones?So she designed an experiment to find out.In the early 1990s, Suzanne planted birch and fir seedlings in a forest plot. She covered some with plastic bags to isolate them from each other. Others, she left uncovered.Then she did something radical: she injected tiny amounts of radioactive carbon into the trees—different isotopes for birch and fir—so she could track where the carbon went.If the trees were truly isolated competitors, the carbon would stay inside each tree.But if they were connected somehow, the carbon would move between them.Suzanne waited. Then she used a Geiger counter to measure where the radioactive carbon had traveled.The results were stunning.The carbon didn't stay in one tree. It moved. From birch to fir. From fir to birch. Through the soil. Through their roots.But not directly. The trees were connected by mycorrhizal fungi—thread-like organisms that attach to tree roots and extend for miles underground.The fungi act as a living network, linking trees together. In exchange for sugars the trees produce through photosynthesis, the fungi provide trees with water and nutrients from deep in the soil.But Suzanne discovered something even more remarkable: the fungi weren't just passively transferring nutrients. The trees were actively sharing resources with each other.In summer, when birch trees had full leaves and were photosynthesizing, they sent carbon to the fir trees, which were shaded and struggling.In fall, when birch leaves fell and they could no longer photosynthesize, the fir trees—still green—sent carbon back to the birch to help them survive the winter.The trees were cooperating. Helping each other. Balancing the ecosystem.Suzanne called these networks "mycorrhizal networks"—and the largest, oldest trees in the forest became known as "mother trees" or "hub trees."These mother trees act as hubs in the network, connecting hundreds of younger trees. They send nutrients to struggling saplings. They share information about drought, disease, and insect attacks through chemical signals.When a mother tree is cut down, the entire network weakens. Younger trees lose their support system.Suzanne's research showed that clear-cutting forests—removing all trees and replanting a single species—destroys these networks. The new trees are isolated, vulnerable, and far less resilient.Her work was revolutionary—and controversial.Logging companies resisted her findings. Some scientists were skeptical. The idea that trees "communicate" and "help each other" sounded too anthropomorphic, too sentimental.But Suzanne's data was solid. Other researchers replicated her experiments. The evidence mounted.By the 2000s, the concept of mycorrhizal networks was widely accepted in ecology. Suzanne's work had fundamentally changed how scientists understood forests.In 2016, Suzanne gave a TED Talk titled "How Trees Talk to Each Other." It's been viewed over 6 million times.She explained, in simple terms, how forests are cooperative communities—and how cutting down mother trees damages entire ecosystems.She also warned: as we lose forests to logging and climate change, we're not just losing trees. We're losing the networks that sustain them—and us.In 2021, Suzanne published a memoir, Finding the Mother Tree, which became an international bestseller. It tells the story of her scientific journey, her struggles in a male-dominated field, and her personal connection to the forests she studies.Suzanne's work has inspired changes in forestry practices. Some companies now leave mother trees standing during logging operations. Conservation efforts focus on preserving forest networks, not just individual trees.But the fight continues. Old-growth forests—the ones with the strongest, oldest networks—are still being cut down.Suzanne continues to advocate for their protection.For decades, scientists believed trees competed for resources.Dr. Suzanne Simard suspected they cooperated.She injected radioactive carbon into birch and fir trees to track where it went.The carbon moved between trees—through underground fungal networks.Birch fed fir when fir was shaded. Fir fed birch when birch lost its leaves.The trees were sharing. Helping each other. Communicating.Suzanne discovered "mother trees"—the largest, oldest trees that act as hubs, supporting younger trees.Her research changed forestry. It changed ecology. It changed how we see forests.The forest isn't a battlefield. It's a community.And when we cut down one tree, we damage the entire network.Her name is Dr. Suzanne Simard.And she taught us that trees don't compete. They cooperate.Balance, not dominance, is what keeps nature alive.

The first moon of Creation is Spirit Moon, and is manifested through the Northern Lights. It is a time to honour the silence and realize our place within all of Great Mystery's creatures.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL..May this year bring peace and prosparity to you and family

NATIVE AMERICAN SPIRITUALITY UNBOUND

The problem is not Pan-Indianism. Pan-Indianism has happened and continues to grow. The genie is out of the bottle and can never be put back. Resistance to Pan-Indianism is ethnocentric and intolerant at its root. To assert that there is one right way of practicing Native American Spirituality echoes the Christian missionary battle-cry. What it engenders is a divisive, destructive waste of energy and resources; Indians warring against themselves and against those who they see as outsiders trying to usurp their religious authority. Recognizing only one tradition as the only legitimate form of Pan-Indianism, the Lakota or Plains tradition, for example, destroys indigenous culture just as surely as insisting on blood quantum as a requirement for religious belief.



Although it is clear that the BIA-Tribe System created and sustains Pan-Indianism, pitting Indian against Indian; ironically it might possibly be Native America's salvation.



Europeans excelled in conquering Native America by exploiting weaknesses, inflaming rivalries and playing one tribe against another. How did Cortez with only 600 men conquer the mighty triple alliance of the Aztecs? He recruited their enemies, amassing an army of 200,000 warriors. And what was their reward? To die of European diseases, if not worked to death or sold into slavery.

Europe got its foothold on these shores with the so-called Pilgrims, though the story taught in history books is not exactly accurate. The first settlers could not have survived on their own. A century of European exploration had not resulted in a single viable colony along the entire Eastern Seaboard because established tribes would not allow it. But Massasoit, the sachem or chief of the Wampanoag confederation (villages in southeastern Massachusetts), welcomed the Pilgrims and helped them survive because disease brought by the invaders they had allowed for short durations into their villages earlier had decimated his tribe. He feared that he would be overrun by the Narragansett to the west and hoped an alliance with the Europeans would protect his people. Once established at Plymouth, however, the invaders' numbers kept growing; further outposts were established; the tribes were overrun.

King Philip's War of 1675-1676 was an attempt to stop the European incursions into Native American lands. It was led by Metacomet (who the colonists dubbed "King Phillip), the son of Massasoit himself, who had 50 years earlier saved the original Plymouth Colony from starvation.

Seeing that Native America as he knew it was on the path of annihilation, Metacomet appealed to all tribes to band together to defeat the colonists once and for all. But his appeal to Native America fell on deaf ears, the old rivalries too strong. Metacomet was captured, murdered, his head impaled on a pike and displayed in the town square of Plymouth for the next 25 years. His 9-year-old son was shipped to the Caribbean and sold as a slave. Metacomet's appeal to Pan-Indian resistance was only among the first to go
unheeded.



The great Shawnee leader Tecumsah saw Pan-Indianism as the only way to resist the annihilation of Native America, trying to rally the diverse tribes as a single, unified force, before he was cut down in 1813, ending effective Indian resistance in the Old Northwest.



The Sauk leader Blackhawk tried the same in 1832, with the same results: Indian people staying divided even as they were destroyed one by one by federal forces. They were following the pattern of the Ottawa Chief Pontiac who successfully rallied Northeastern tribes in 1763, only to be murdered by a fellow Indian.

Do we want to continue the self-sabotage and self-annihilation that has kept Native America divided among itself from the beginning?



The Ghost Dance that prompted the U.S. government’s massacre at Wounded Knee Dec. 29, 1890, was itself a Pan-Indian movement. Founded by a half-white Northern Paiute with shamanic training who called himself Wovoka, the dance swept across the Plains as a last hope for starving Indians crowded upon the barren reservations without the food and shelter that had been promised them. The power of the dance is its simplicity; it requires only alternate stylized hand movements with a rhythmic standing-in-place “dance” to a rapid drum beat that in a mere matter of moments can induce a shamanic state. It actually originated among the Cherokee and Southeastern tribes prior to Removal about 75 years before. As a spiritual dance, not a ceremonial one, it gave anyone who practiced (or practices) it, the ability to connect with the ancestors in Dreamtime – a tremendous spiritual power before then reserved to shamans and holy people. As such, and the rapidity with which it spread through Native America, it frightened federal authorities, precipitating the massacre and the banning of spiritual practices on reservations with severe penalties until 1978.



Wovoka’s vision of a peaceful resurrection of Native peoples and around which he built the Ghost Dance religion died at Wounded Knee. Its weakness was that it was seen, and in some cases presented, as a militant movement, a “taking back” in which the invaders were destroyed – much as the American Indian Movement (what some call “Attitude in Moccasins”) brought attention with Wounded Knee II to inequities and abuses in the BIA System yet has never itself caught on much beyond the reservation. A “them or us” mentality is always doomed to fail, as it only reinforces the BIA System itself – containing Native America through blood quantum (racism) and “sovereignty.”



The power of Spirit and of Native American Spirituality endures, fully tapped or not.



As a footnote to this seminal moment in the history of the BIA System and its steadfast aim of the annihilation of Native American Spirituality, it should be noted that 20 Congressional Medals of Honor were awarded to soldiers participating in the Wounded Knee Massacre in which 290 overwhelmingly unarmed mostly elderly men, women and children were killed. Wovoka died as Jack Wilson in 1932, after playing bit parts in silent movie Westerns and as a sideshow attraction. What the BIA System cannot destroy, it turns to triumphant tragedy and shame – shades of Metacomet’s head, again.

WORDS FROM THE WISE OLD ELDERS

There has been a lot of criticism from our people about who is and who isn't Native American, First People, Indigenous, Indian, or Cherokee or other tribal member. The Council of The Wise Elders burned many fires sharing minds and views about this. One of the wisest elders shared this from his heart and I have taken his words into mine and made them my own. I have tried to walk that path since The Great Spirit spoke through him.

This old Elder who had seen many years and walked through many sorrows caused by hatred and anger towards our people, spoke like one who walked only down the Path of Love and Friendship. As he slowly took a breath and began to speak, the entire Council felt The Great Spirit fill the place.

The Wise Old Elder said, " My Brothers, our Path is a hard path. It is not a path for the weak. We see many of our people stumble off the Path The Great Spirit has chosen for us to walk. They have chosen to go another path. But we must keep following The Path that The Great Spirit is leading us on."

"If there are some who choose to step foot on this same Path and travel the same direction that we are going, then I would count them as my brother or my sister. I would help them over the rough places. I would pull them through the mud. I would swim with them in the deep waters. As long as they are walking the same path then I count them my people just as I count each one of you."

"Are they blood? They have the same amount of blood as I. Theirs is the same color and consistency as mine. But only The Great Spirit knows. So who am I to shun this person who is trying to live The same Path as I am? I can only know if they are not blood if they turn away from The Path of our ancestors ways and strike out at our own people and tribes. THAT is how I will know if they are blood brothers or sisters. And I will walk proudly beside them until they turn from our Pathway. That is thhe end of the matter to me." And with that he sat down and was silent.

Thos words have burned in my heart until this day and now I share his wisdom with you.

The Fourfooted Tribes

In Cherokee mythology, as in that of Indian tribes generally, there is no essential difference between men and animals. In the primal genesis period they seem to be completely undifferentiated, and we find all creatures alike living and working together in harmony and mutual helpfulness until man, by his aggressiveness and disregard for the rights of the others, provokes their hostility, when insects, birds, fishes, reptiles, and fourfooted beasts join forces against him (see story, "Origin of Disease and Medicine"). Henceforth their lives are apart, but the difference is always one of degree only. The animals, like the people, are organized into tribes and have like them their chiefs and townhouses, their councils and ballplays, and the same hereafter in the Darkening land of Us'ûñhi'yï. Man is still the paramount power, and hunts and slaughters the others as his own necessities compel, but is obliged to satisfy the animal tribes in every instance, very much as a murder is compounded for, according to the Indian system, by "covering the bones of the dead" with presents for the bereaved relatives.

This pardon to the hunter is made the easier through a peculiar

doctrine of reincarnation, according to which, as explained by the shamans, there is assigned to every animal a definite life term which can not be curtailed by violent means. If it is killed before the expiration of the allotted time the death is only temporary and the body is immediately resurrected in its proper shape from the blood drops, and the animal continues its existence until the end of the predestined period, when the body is finally dissolved and the liberated spirit goes to join its kindred shades in the Darkening land. This idea appears in the story of the bear man and in the belief concerning the Little Deer. Death is thus but a temporary accident and the killing a mere minor crime. By some priests it is held that there are seven successive reanimations before the final end.

Certain supernatural personages, Kana'tï and Tsul`kälû' (see the myths), have dominion over the animals, and are therefore regarded as the distinctive gods of the hunter. Kana'tï at one time kept the game animals, as well as the pestiferous insects, shut up in a cave under ground, from which they were released by his undutiful sons. The primeval animals-the actors in the animal myths and the predecessors of the existing species-are believed to have been much larger, stronger, and cleverer than their successors of the present day. In these myths we find the Indian explanation of certain peculiarities of form, color, or habit, and the various animals are always consistently represented as acting in accordance with their well-known characteristics.

First and most prominent in the animal myths is the Rabbit (Tsistu), who figures always as a trickster and deceiver, generally malicious, but often beaten at his own game by those whom he had intended to victimize. The connection of the rabbit with the dawn god and the relation of the Indian myths to the stories current among the southern negroes are discussed in another place. Ball players while in training are forbidden to eat the flesh of the rabbit, because this animal so easily becomes confused in running. On the other hand, their spies seek opportunity to strew along the path which must be taken by their rivals a soup made of rabbit hamstrings, with the purpose of rendering them timorous in action. I

In a ball game between the birds and the fourfooted animals (see story) the Bat, which took sides with the birds, is said to have won the victory for his party by his superior dodging abilities. For this reason the wings or sometimes the stuffed skin of the bat are tied to the implements used in the game to insure success for the players. According to the same myth the Flying Squirrel (Tewa) also aided in securing the victory, and hence both these animals are still invoked by the ball player. The meat of the common gray squirrel (sälâ'lï) is forbidden to rheumatic patients, on account of the squirrel's habit of assuming a cramped position when eating. The stripes upon the back of the

ground squirrel (kiyu`ga) are the mark of scratches made by the angry animals at a memorable council in which he took it upon himself to say a good word for the archenemy, Man (see "Origin of Disease and Medicine"). The peculiarities of the mink (sûñgï) are accounted for by another story.

The buffalo, the largest game animal of America, was hunted in the southern Allegheny region until almost the close of the last century, the particular species being probably that known in the West as the wood or mountain buffalo. The name in use among the principal gulf tribes was practically the same, and can not be analyzed, viz, Cherokee, yûñsû'; Hichitee, ya'nasi; Creek, yëna'sa; Choctaw, yanash. Although the flesh of the buffalo was eaten, its skin dressed for blankets and bed coverings, its long hair woven into belts, and its horns carved into spoons, it is yet strangely absent from Cherokee folklore. So far as is known it is mentioned in but a single one of the sacred formulas, in which a person under treatment for rheumatism is forbidden to eat the meat, touch the skin, or use a spoon made from the horn of the buffalo, upon the ground of an occult connection between the habitual cramped attitude of a rheumatic and the natural "hump" of that animal.

The elk is known, probably by report, under the name of a`wï e'gwa, "great deer", but there is no myth or folklore in connection with it.

The deer, a`wï', which is still common in the mountains, was the principal dependence of the Cherokee hunter, and is consequently prominent in myth, folklore, and ceremonial. One of the seven gentes of the tribe is named from it (Ani'-Kawï', "Deer People"). According to a myth given elsewhere, the deer won his horns in a successful race with the rabbit. Rheumatism is usually ascribed to the work of revengeful deer ghosts, which the hunter has neglected to placate, while on the other hand the aid of the deer is invoked against frostbite, as its feet are believed to be immune from injury by frost. The wolf, the fox, and the opossum are also invoked for this purpose, and for the same reason. When the redroot (Ceanothus americanus) puts forth its leaves the people say the young fawns are then in the mountains. On killing a deer the hunter always cuts out the hamstring from the hind quarter and throws it away, for fear that if he ate it he would thereafter tire easily in traveling.

The powerful chief of the deer tribe is the A`wï' Usdi', or "Little Deer," who is invisible to all except the greatest masters of the hunting secrets, and can be wounded only by the hunter who has supplemented years of occult study with frequent fasts and lonely vigils. The Little Deer keeps constant protecting watch over his subjects, and sees well to it that not one is ever killed in wantonness. When a deer is shot by the hunter the Little Deer knows it at once and is instantly

at the spot. Bending low his head he asks of the blood stains upon the ground if they have heard--i.e., if the hunter has asked pardon for the life that he has taken. If the formulistic prayer has been made, all is well, because the necessary sacrifice has been atoned for; but if otherwise, the Little Deer tracks the hunter to his house by the blood drops along the trail, and, unseen and unsuspected, puts into his body the spirit of rheumatism that shall rack him with aches and pains from that time henceforth. As seen at rare intervals--perhaps once in a long lifetime-the Little Deer is pure white and about the size of a small dog, has branching antlers, and is always in company with a large herd of deer. Even though shot by the master hunter, he comes to life again, being immortal, but the fortunate huntsman who can thus make prize of his antlers has in them an unfailing talisman that brings him success in the chase forever after. The smallest portion of one of those horns of the Little Deer, when properly consecrated, attracts the deer to the hunter, and when exposed from the wrapping dazes them so that they forget to run and thus become an easy prey. Like the Ulûñsû'tî stone (see number 50), it is a dangerous prize when not treated with proper respect, and is--or was--kept always in a secret place away from the house to guard against sacrilegious handling.

Somewhat similar talismanic power attached to the down from the young antler of the deer when properly consecrated. So firm was the belief that it had influence over "anything about a deer" that eighty and a hundred years ago even white traders used to bargain with the Indians for such charms in order to increase their store of deerskins by drawing the trade to themselves. The faith in the existence of the miraculous Little Deer is almost as strong and universal to-day among the older Cherokee as is the belief in a future life.

The bears (yânû) are transformed Cherokee of the old clan of the Ani'-Tsâ'gûhï (see story, "Origin of the Bear"). Their chief is the White Bear, who lives at Kuwâ'hï, "Mulberry place," one of the high peaks of the Great Smoky mountains, near to the enchanted lake of Atagâ'hï (see number 69), to which the wounded bears go to be cured of their hurts. Under Kuwâ'hï and each of three other peaks in the same mountain region the bears have townhouses, where they congregate and hold dances every fall before retiring to their dens for the winter. Being really human, they can talk if they only would, and once a mother bear was heard singing to her cub in words which the hunter understood. There is one variety known as kalâs'-gûnâhi'ta, "long hams," described as a large black bear with long legs and small feet, which is always lean, and which the hunter does not care to shoot, possibly on account of its leanness. It is believed that new-born cubs are hairless, like mice.

The wolf (wa'`ya) is revered as the hunter and watchdog of Kana'tï, and the largest gens in the tribe bears the name of Ani'-wa'`ya, "Wol

people." The ordinary Cherokee will never kill one if he can possibly avoid it, but will let the animal go by unharmed, believing that the kindred of a slain wolf will surely revenge his death, and that the weapon with which the deed is done will be rendered worthless for further shooting until cleaned and exercised by a medicine man. Certain persons, however, having knowledge of the proper atonement rites, may kill wolves with impunity, and are hired for this purpose by others who have suffered from raids upon their fish traps or their stock. Like the eagle killer (see "The Bird Tribes"), the professional wolf killer, after killing one of these animals, addresses to it a prayer in which he seeks to turn aside the vengeance of the tribe by laying the burden of blame upon the people of some other settlement. He then unscrews the barrel of his gun and inserts into it seven small sourwood rods heated over the fire, and allows it to remain thus overnight in the running stream; in the morning the rods are taken out and the barrel is thoroughly dried and cleaned.

The dog (gi`lï'), although as much a part of Indian life among the Cherokee as in other tribes, hardly appears in folklore. One myth makes him responsible for the milky way; another represents him as driving the wolf from the comfortable house fire and taking the place for himself. He figures also in connection with the deluge. There is no tradition of the introduction of the horse (sâ'gwälï, from asâ'gwälihû', from "a pack or burden") or of the cow (wa'`ka, from the Spanish, vaca). The hog is called, sïkwä, this being originally the name of the opossum, which somewhat resembles it in expression, and which is now distinguished as sïkwä utse'tstï, "grinning sïkwä". In the same way the sheep, another introduced animal, is called a`wï' unäde'na, "woolly deer"; the goat, a`wï' ahänu'lähï, "bearded deer," and the mule, "sâ'gwä'lï digû'lanähi'ta", "long-eared horse." The cat, also obtained from the whites, is called wesä, an attempt at the English "p***y." When it purrs by the fireside, the children say it is counting in Cherokee, "ta'ladu', nûñ'gï, ta'ladu', nûñ'gï," "sixteen, four, sixteen, four." The elephant, which a few of the Cherokee have seen in shows, is called by them käma'mä u'tänû, "great butterfly," from the supposed resemblance of its long trunk and flapping ears to the proboscis and wings of that insect. The anatomical peculiarities of the opossum, of both sexes, are the subject of much curious speculation among the Indians, many of whom believe that its young are produced without any help from the male. It occurs in one or two of the minor myths.

The fox (tsu'`lä) is mentioned in one of the formulas, but does no appear in the tribal folklore. The black fox is known by a different name (inâ'lï). The odor of the skunk (dïlä') is believed to keep off contagious diseases, and the scent bag is therefore taken out and hung over the doorway, a small hole being pierced in it in order that the contents may ooze out upon the timbers. At times, as in the

smallpox epidemic of 1866, the entire body of the animal was thus hung up, and in some cases, as an additional safeguard, the meat was cooked and eaten and the oil rubbed over the skin of the person. The underlying idea is that the fetid smell repels the disease spirit, and upon the same principle the buzzard, which is so evidently superior to carrion smells, is held to be powerful against the same diseases.

The beaver (dâ'yï), by reason of its well-known gnawing ability, against which even the hardest wood is not proof, is invoked on behalf of young children just getting their permanent teeth. According to the little formula which is familiar to nearly every mother in the tribe, when the loosened milk tooth is pulled out or drops out of itself, the child runs with it around the house, repeating four times, "Dâ'yï, skïntä' (Beaver, put a new tooth into my jaw)" after which he throws the tooth upon the roof of the house.

In a characteristic song formula to prevent frostbite the traveler, before starting out on a cold winter morning, rubs his feet in the ashes of the fire and sings a song of four verses, by means of which, according to the Indian idea, he acquires in turn the cold-defying powers of the wolf, deer, fox, and opossum, four animals whose feet, it is held, are never frostbitten. After each verse he imitates the cry and the action of the animal. The words used are archaic in form and may be rendered "I become a real wolf," etc. The song runs:

Tsûñ'wa'`ya-ya' (repeated four times), wa + a! (prolonged howl). (Imitates a wolf pawing the ground with his feet.)

Tsûñ'-ka'wi-ye' (repeated four times), sauh! sauh! sauh! sauh! (Imitates call and jumping of a deer.)

Tsûñ'-tsu'`la-ya' (repeated four times), gaih! gaih! gaih! gaih! (Imitates barking and scratching of a fox.)

Tsûñ'-sï'kwa-ya' (repeated four times), kï +. (Imitates the cry of an opossum when cornered, and throws his head back as that animal does when feigning death.)