March 3, 2001: The Sun dance begins to speak

If I don’t fear the knife as it enters the veins closest to the heart, I’ll be reminded of how any fear creates room for gained access. The mountains I climb are visible only to my sight—to seek understanding requires no human hand but the trust generated between self and the wind. I don’t know what to expect from this giving to Mother earth. Is it wrong to expect nothing? People easily assume they know where I’ve traveled these past five days. The reality of it is based on where I’m going—that’s what captivates my imagination! Raised to my lips are never hopes to succeed—it’s the air which carries messages delivered by the wind. Once up to my lips, words are then created—for I, like the wind…am only a messenger.