Permaculture: Alternative Farming Method

A Chorus In Miracles ~ The Music

A Time for Peace: Cigarette Butts are Toxic Waster

A Time for Peace: Cigarette Butts are Toxic Waster: Cigarette Butts are Toxic Waste “According to the Kentucky Department for Public Health, tobacco use accounts for    almost 7,700 d...

Cigarette Butts are Toxic Waster

Cigarette Butts are Toxic Waste

“According to the Kentucky Department for Public Health, tobacco use accounts for   almost 7,700 deaths a year in Kentucky and 400,000 deaths nationwide. Kentucky has the highest smoking rate in the country and the second highest prevalence of pregnant women who smoke. Smoke free ordinances have proven successful across the United States, where cities like Los Angeles and New York have been smoke-free for several years. “Louisville has adopted policies that prohibit smoking inside buildings, public facilities and, in some instances, on the outside campuses of facilities and public sidewalks.” In addition, there are specific duties of owners of public establishments that aid in the enforcement of this ordinance.

“90.05 DUTIES OF OWNERS OF BUILDINGS AND/OR ESTABLISHMENTS.
(A) No owner, lessee, principal manager, or person in control of a building or establishment in a building shall fail to:
(1) Ask smokers to refrain from smoking in any no-smoking area;
(2) Use any other legal means, which may be appropriate to further the intent of this chapter.
(B) No owner, principal manager, proprietor, or any other person in control of a business shall fail to ensure compliance by subordinates, employees, and agents with this chapter.
90.06 ENFORCEMENT.
The Louisville Metro Health Department shall enforce the provisions of this chapter through the issuance of citations, and for this purpose may at all reasonable times enter in and on any premises of any establishment. Notice of the provisions of this chapter shall be given by Metro Government to all applicants for a business or other license.


90.08 REASONABLE DISTANCE.
Smoking is prohibited within a reasonable distance from the outside entrance to any building so as to ensure that tobacco smoke does not enter the building through entrances, windows, ventilation systems, or other means.”

            This ordinance has helped alleviate the exposure to secondary smoke in public buildings and enclosed areas, but now there is another problem that I have noticed in my work as a volunteer in PUP (Picking up Portland). That is the accumulation of discarded cigarette butts and filters that line the sidewalks leading into the buildings. What happens if these butts are allowed to stay? First, the butts will be eaten by wild and domestic animals who do not realize that this is poison. Small children will also pick up the butts and put them in their mouths if not monitored. This is not so much a problem in public because children are usually monitored by an adult, but there have been many cases of nicotine poisoning treated in the emergency rooms and hospitals for children who eat the discarded cigarette butts in ashtrays in their homes. Stray cats and dogs that roam the streets are susceptible to poisoning as well as the wildlife. This is also a problem seen in veterinary offices all over the country. The following is an excerpt from a dog owner.        

“My landscaper, when mowing our doggy pen (a large area where they are allowed to be in our yard - supervised) chews tobacco and every week our dogs become ill (all five) for two to three days after this area is mowed.
We finally discovered that the landscaper was spitting out the tobacco as he was mowing the doggie pen and that our dogs were finding this unusual treat very interesting. At first we thought it was the chunks of grass that fell off the mower, and then we discovered the chunks of tobacco. Lots of them.
I have since learned that this can be toxic to pets and the symptoms are, vomiting, diarrhea or loose stool.”

In addition to poisoning animals, nicotine and the tar from filters poison the earth and water systems. When the rains come, the nicotine is absorbed into the earth or washed down the sewer drains which lead eventually into our rivers and streams. The following is an excerpt from a smoker:

How Cigarette Toxins Pollute the Environment

Updated April 22, 2015.

I was as guilty as the next smoker when it came to tossing a cigarette butt out of the window of my car or stubbing a cigarette out on the ground as I stood outside having a smoke. Like thousands of other smokers, I didn't think twice about leaving a trail of cigarette litter behind me, but had I known how my actions affected our environment, I would have been much more careful.
Cigarette Butt Litter -- A Plague on Our Planet

According to Keep America Beautiful, Americans are smoking fewer cigarettes than ever before, yet cigarette butts continue to be the most commonly littered item in the United States and around the world today. They specify two reasons for this statistic -- lack of awareness on the smoker's part, and the lack of availability of waste receptacles at "transition" locations, such as outside stores and other buildings, and at public transportation pickup spots.
Cigarette Filters
The core of most cigarette filters -- the part that looks like white cotton, is actually a form of plastic called cellulose acetate. By itself, cellulose acetate is very slow to degrade in our environment. Depending on the conditions of the area the cigarette butt is discarded in, it can take 18 months to 10 years for a cigarette filter to decompose.
But that isn't the worst of it.
Used cigarette filters are full of toxins known as tar, and those chemicals leach into the ground and waterways, damaging living organisms that contact them.

And, most filters are discarded with bits of tobacco still attached to them as well, further polluting our environment with nicotine.

The Toxins in Cigarette Butts
Toxin-filled cigarette butts work their way into our waterways primarily through storm drains that dump into streams and lakes. Studies conducted by Clean Virginia Waterways have shown that just one cigarette butt in approximately two gallons of water is lethal to water fleas, a tiny crustacean found in fresh water and saltwater. And, tiny bits of tobacco that are invariably left attached cigarette filters carry more toxins than the filters do themselves.
Cigarette filters are a threat to wildlife that could ingest them, mistaking filters for food, and to small children, who may eat them if they're within reach.
Cigarette-induced fires claim hundreds of lives in the United States each year, and injure thousands more, not to mention the millions of dollars that go up in smoke in property damage.

            I am a resident of Portland, and I am concerned about the public health and safety of all who live and work here – especially those with no voice. Whether a non-smoker or smoker, I hope we can all work together to raise awareness and make sure our public parks, streets and water drains are free of any litter that has the capacity to threaten our health and safety and the quality of life in this neighborhood I have chosen to call home.  

It Takes a Village to Help All Lives Matter

The writing contest ended yesterday with these results. We have four completed stories ready to be sent to the judges next week. Two of the entrants did not complete the session in order to provide a completed story. Although the "results" will not be in until judging is done, I wanted to write something about my thoughts as well as feelings about the contest.

 I started this contest with the idea that maybe we in Portland could do something to find and encourage the adolescents there to spend a part of their summer reading and using their writing skills instead of other typical summer activities. That happened and I am  overwhelmed with the feeling I have after working with six of the children from my old neighborhood at the library that meant so much to me. This is because so much more happened that goes far beyond “readin’, writing and arithmetic.”

 The students ranged in age from 10 to 13 years and although they live in a depressed neighborhood with a lot of stereotypes about them and their home life, working with them was one of the most joyful experiences of my entire teaching career (25 years). There was a mix of so-called "races," although I personally detest this term.

There were two African-American girls and two African-American boys. There were two "white" boys for want of a better description. Only one child lived in a home with both parents. The others were from single family homes with females as the head of household. All of the parents were hard working and dedicated to making a safe, happy home for their children in a neighborhood that can be frightening sometimes. One thing that astounded me was the support that the African-American males had from men who were not physically related to them. These men were gentle and caring and made sure that those boys came to all the sessions and cooperated with all the adults working with them - and there were many. I could not have produced these results working alone. It does, indeed, take a village to raise a child in today's world.

Three experiences stand out for me. First was the socializing and talking over pizza that took place each week before the session started. What happened here left a lasting impression on me in terms of helping children from different living situations learn about each other and to respect differences. Not only did the adults get to know the children, but the children started to learn from each other.

There was one student who had moved to Louisville from a rural environment in Bardstown. His mother had home schooled him until last year when the demands of a growing family meant she sent him to public school for the first time. From day one, it was obvious that this child was a self-starter and also a little fearful of living in an urban slum. His family, however, was doing urban homesteading and had chickens. Their home near the river allowed the young boy to see hawks and other animals that he talked about with the other children “of the street.” There was a conversation about the family’s chickens and one of the street children said, “I would kill the chicken to eat it if I had a chicken.”

Before I could frame a response, the young boy stated very simply, “We use our chickens for eggs, but when they get too old to lay eggs anymore, we eat them.” What a wonderful teaching moment for everyone and how pleasant it was! I don’t believe the “street kid” really knew that chickens laid the eggs he ate.  I think this experience will make both boys feel more comfortable with students different from them in the fall.

At the start of the program, I took time to individually talk with each student to find out what they wanted to write about. As I sat at the table with a young African-American student who was a bit overweight, I noticed he was having trouble breathing and kept patting his chest. It suddenly occurred to me that his child was about to have a full flown panic attack. When I asked him about it, he said he was really nervous. I gently pulled away and told him to just sit there and breathe until he felt comfortable. This young man’s choice for a story was “How to Become a Bully.” As he told me the plot, I began to realize that this young man had had quite an experience with being bullied himself. His ending showed that he had had the opportunity to work with adults to help him understand this. The young man I had worked with during the first session did not return. Instead, the one I saw as I walked into the library the next week looked a lot like him, but he had a great big smile and came and gave me a big hug. If that had been the only thing that happened during this contest, it would have been enough for me.

The day of the last session I worked individually with the young man who had wanted to eat the chicken. The goal was to get the story he had written into a format that could be read and understood. I had worked with him before and knew that getting anything in writing was difficult. I worked with him the entire session and was able to get a story with an introduction, middle and an end. He typed it all and used the computer tools very well to help with spelling and grammar. The biggest challenge was in getting him to use periods and separate his ideas, but we did it! We were just finishing as his supervisor came to get him. When I told him we had completed the story, he smiled broadly and asked me if he could get a copy printed. Of course, we gave him a copy. Unfortunately, this young man will probably not win one of the three monetary awards, but what I saw happen with him was priceless and much more lasting than a Kroger gift cart that will buy some groceries and school supplies for him.

As I sit here typing these words, my heart is full and I cannot express what this summer has meant to me. I had a vacation the month before the contest and traveled to some great places with a wonderful friend. I also had the opportunity to “escape the heat” and travel to Cape Breton, Nova Scotia for the month of July. I can’t say there weren’t some times when I wished I could have gone there, but now I know that no matter how many pictures I took to bring back with me, that would soon just be another experience on my “bucket list.” This experience will live in my heart forever and I am so grateful to have had this opportunity.  

Peace Needs Women

Peace Needs Women

According to peace activist Dorothea Sallee “To realize ourselves as women, to rise above poverty, rape and destruction of family, we must be women for peace. . . A woman cannot realize herself in war. The roles of being there for war and being there for children are oxymoron’s, and cannot exist side by side. The culture of war creates famine, rape and destruction of home and family.”

This is one of the themes of my book “The Peacemaker” available at http://kentuckywoman.net.

When the so called Republic of the United States was established, the major faults in that government were the disempowerment of women, genocide of the Native Americans and the enslavement of dark-skinned people from Africa. This has led us down a path of cyclical war and poverty throughout our history. The Women’s Rights Movement that began in 1848 in Seneca Falls, New York and grew in force after the Civil War was begun to address all of these issues.

Women's voices had little power without the right to vote and that’s when the movement for the right to vote began and grew in force as the United States entangled itself in World War I. The voices quoted below span the time period beginning with the inception of World War I – The War to End All Wars- and one fought without the approval of women in almost every country involved in that War. If women had had more influence at the Versailles Peace Conference, Wilson’s Fourteen Points to end war and establish world peace may have taken a different route.

We have all heard the quote, “those who do not learn the lessons of history are doomed to repeat them.” I am now engaged in writing a sequel to “The Peacemaker” which will take into account the women’s voices from the Middle East that are still stifled and drowned out by the angry voices of male controlled societies all over the world. I have been reading stories from the females of this region and taking note of what they are doing. There are a few quotes from Middle Eastern women below and more and more of the women’s voices from this region are speaking out. In order to be true to ourselves as women and the society we would all like for our children to have, we must join together and support each other in our common cause to end the suffering of women and children for once and for all. That can only be done by supporting peace.

Voices of the Founding Mothers

 “...each war carried within itself, the war which will answer it. Each war is answered by another war, until everything is destroyed...That is why I’m so wholeheartedly for a radical end to the madness...Pacifism simply is not a matter of calm looking on; it is work, hard work...those lovely small apples out there...everything could be so beautiful if it were not for the insanity of war...one day, a new idea will arise and there will be an end of all wars...People will have to work hard for that new state of things, but they will achieve it.”

Kathe Kollwitz (1867 - 1945) Germany

“If you insist upon fighting to protect me, or ‘our’ country, let it be understood, soberly and rationally between us, that you are fighting to gratify a sex Instinct which I cannot share; to procure benefits which I have not shared and probably will not share; but not to gratify my instincts, or protect either myself or my country. For, the outside will say, in fact, as a woman, I have no country. As a woman I want no country. As a woman, my country is the whole world...”

Virginia Woolf (1882 - 1941) England

The Progress

And still we wear our uniforms, follow
The cracked cry of the bugles, comb and rush
Our pride and prejudice, doctor the sallow
Initial ardor, which keeps it fresh.

Still we applaud the President’s voice and face.
Still we remark on patriotism, sing,
Salute the flag, thrill heavily, rejoice
For death of men who too saluted, sang.

But inward grows a soberness, an awe.
A fear, a deepening hollow through the cold.
For even if we come out standing up
How shall we smile, congratulate; and how
Settle in chairs? Listen, listen. The step
Of iron feet again. And again - wild.

                                                                                                        Gwendolyn Brooks (1971) - - USA

“I believe that peace is not merely an absence of war, but the nurture of human life, and that in time this nurture will do away with war as a natural process....I can see no reason why one should not see what one believes in time of war as in time of peace....Only in freedom is permanent peace possible. To unite women in all countries who are opposed to any kind of war, exploitation and oppression and who work for universal disarmament...and by the establishment of social, political, and economic justice for all without distinction of sex, race, class, or creeds.

                                                                                                            Jane Addams (1860-1935) U.S.A.

“Women are not at the peace table. We are not there where our commitment to peace, our capacities to find solutions through dialogue, debate, our sensitivities to human needs, human rights are sorely needed. Therefore, we still must press - from the outside...Feminists can make clear that one does not have to agree with the political or economic systems of a country in order to like and understand its people...The feminist movement has a vision. We understand, first of all, that we have but one earth, shared by one humanity. ...We will make it a woman’s world, not in the sense of control, or power, or dominance, but those values that we call women-centered values, will be diffused throughout society.”

                                                                                 Margarita Chant Papandreou. Greece/U.S.A.

“When we carry our eyes back through the long records of our history, we see wars of plunder, wars of 

conquest, wars of religion, wars of pride, wars of succession, wars of idle speculation, wars of unjust interference, and hardly among them one war of necessary self-defence in any of our essential or very important interests.”

Anna Barbauld, English poet, essayist, critic, 1793

 “The half of humanity that have never bourne arms is today ready to struggle to make the brotherhood of man a reality. Perhaps the universal sisterhood is necessary before the universal brotherhood is possible.” 

Bertha von Suttner, Speech to the Federation of Women of America, 1912

“If brains have brought us to what we are in now, I think it is time to allow our hearts to speak. When our sons are killed by the millions, let us, mothers, only try to do good by going to the kings and emperors without any other danger than a refusal.”

Rosika Schwimmer, Speech at International Congress of Women at the Hague, 1915

“Women will soon have political power. Woman suffrage and permanent peace will go together. When a country is in a state of mind to grant the vote to its women, it is a sign that that country is ripe for permanent peace. Women don’t feel as men do about war. They are the mothers of the race. Men think of the economic results, women think of the grief and pain.”

Dr. Aletta Jacobs, (1851-1929) Holland’s first woman doctor and founder of the Dutch suffrage movement.

“You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake.” And, “The work of educating the world to peace is the woman’s job, because men have a natural fear of being classed as cowards if they oppose war.”

Jeanette Rankin, (1880-1973) First woman to enter U.S. House of Representative in 1917. Lost her seat in Congress when she voted against entry in WWI.

“But the havoc wrought by war, which one compares with the havoc wrought in nature, is not an unavoidable fate before which man stands helpless. The natural forces which are the causes of war are human passions which it lies in our power to change.”

Ellen Key, (1849-1926) Swedish social feminist. 

“No tinsel of trumpets and flags will ultimately seduce women into the insanity of recklessly destroying life, or gild the willful taking of life with any other name than that of murder, whether it be the slaughter of the million or of one by one.”

Olive Schreiner, South African writer, feminist, 1911

“Where do all the women who have watched so carefully over the lives of their beloved ones get the heroism to send them to face the cannon? I am afraid that this soaring of the spirit will be followed by the blackest despair and dejection. The task is to bear it not only during these few weeks, but for a long time - in dreary November as well, and also when spring comes again, in March, the month of young men who wanted to live and are dead. 

                                                                           Kathe Kollwitz, German Activist and Artist , 1914                                   (Kollwitz’s son was killed in WWI two months after writing this note).

                                                                  The End and the Beginning 

 After every war
Someone’s got to tidy up.
Things won’t pick themselves up, after all.

Someone’s got to shove the rubble to other roadsides
So the carts loaded with corpses can get by.

Someone’s got to trudge through sludge and ashes,
Through the sofa springs, the shards of glass, the bloody rags....

No sound bites, no photo opportunities.
And it takes years.
All the cameras have gone to other wars.

Some, broom in hand, still remember how it was.
Some man listens, nodding his unshattered head.
But others are bound to be bustling nearby
Who will find all that a little boring....

Those who knew what this was all about
Must make way for those who know little.
And less than that, and at last nothing less than nothing,

Someone’s got to lie there
in the grass that covers up the causes and effects
With a cornstalk in his teeth, gawking at clouds.

Wislawa Szymborska (1923-) Poland

“[There is an] erroneous impression that this and other countries are at war with one another. They are not. Their governments, composed of men and responsible only to the men of each country, and backed by the majority of men who have caught the war and glory fever, have declared war on one another. The women of all these countries have not been consulted as to whether they would have war or not...”

Harriette Beanland, English dressmaker, three days after WWI declared, 1914.

“Ladies, do you know the numbers? Our taxes are higher than three billion and the ministers of the army and navy devour a third themselves....The household with six francs a day for expenses, for example, starts each day by throwing two francs away.”

Sylvia Flammarion, 1905 speech to working class French women

 “If war boosts the economy of the industrial nations that own the war supplies, it smashes the economy of the nations that consume them.”

Fereshten Gol-Mohammadi, Iran, 1983

“If a child grows up with the idea of violence, that you get what you can by force, what kind of world will this be?”

Julinda Abu Nasr, Lebanon, 1980s

“I am convinced that the women of the world, united without any regard for national or racial dimensions, can become a most powerful force for international peace and brotherhood.”

Coretta Scott King, (1922-) Active in U.S. civil rights movement and Non-Violence Center

  

                                                            

T                                                                 

 

A Trip Through New Pangaea

Sunday June 7^th – The bright, desert sun illumined the rich, desert earth of the area known as The Little Painted Desert in Northeastern Arizona. I had traveled the stretch of Interstate 40 many times during trips to the flashing lights of Las Vegas, Nevada and visits to southern California never veering far off the road that connected me to those destinations. My first trip was in 1969 along Rte. 66 before the Interstate Highway System created I-40. In 1969 tourists from the East visited “Indian” stores advertised on billboards at the edge of the highway blocking the view of the surrounding landscape. The stores were full of the cheap trinkets carried home as souvenirs of the trip to the Wild West. In addition, one could see Indian performances reminiscent of the Buffalo Bill traveling rodeo shows of the early part of the century.

It wasn’t until I lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico that I became familiar with the ancient history hidden off Interstate 40 along the lands of the Navajo and Hopi people – the descendants of the ancient cliff dwelling people known as the Anazasi people, a corruption of the Navajo word Anaasaai, meaning Ancient Ones or Ancient Enemies. This term is not the preferred designation of modern Puebloans who live in the area today.

By the time Coronado came to the region in the 15^th Century looking for the Seven Cities of Gold, the Anazasi people had mysteriously disappeared and new cultures of the Navajo, Hopi and other Pueblo people had been established.  The Navajo and Hopi are the only cultures that have remained intact – relatively free from westernization. The Hopi is the purest culture, having been left alone to its ancient practices high upon the Black and Second Mesas in northern Arizona and never having gone to war with the Americans.  After Kit Carson allowed the Navajo to return to their home in Canyon De Chelly in the 1860’s, the Navajo negotiated a peace treaty that returned these lands to the Navajo shepherds.

Since that time, the Navajo have prospered.  Navajo need for more grazing land and water has created recent conflict with the peaceful Hopi. And the Navajo, with the support of the United States government and Peabody Coal Company, have been slowly encroaching upon Hopi land for mineral and water rights. The Hopi, however, have been able to preserve much of their ancient culture and spiritual practices high in the cliffs of the Second Mesa. On this pleasant, sunny day in June, a friend and I veered from Interstate 40 at Winslow, Arizona onto State Road 87. Our intent was not to experience any more “kicks along Route 66” but to travel this “road to nowhere” for a trip into New Pangaea.

In describing the western landscape, many who have been there describe it as “miles and miles of miles and miles.” Traveling on an empty two- lane highway with low lying scrub brush and flat desert sand on each side made the road seem to disappear into the cloudless, blue horizon. No traffic and an unobstructed view helped to delineate the beautiful colors of the rippling red soil and gray, gravel rock that provided an apron to the huge rock formations that suddenly appeared sporadically along the way.

There was a bell shaped rise in front of purple, snow capped rocks whose color changed with the position of sun’s light from dark red to pink, and finally a white ribbed apron flowing down into a flat, green bottom. The green of the desert shrubs was especially brilliant due to the recent rain that had not only cleared the air but nourished the roots so close to the surface. We stopped at a state park to take a picture of this “eye candy.”

The park was operated by the Navajo who own this land. We saw two stoned columned shelters for two picnic tables. Gang graffiti in red, blue, black and white reminded us that people live in the area. On the two portable outhouses, we saw the sign of the Navajo – two broken arrows with one going up and another going down. This was the symbol we had seen on the Indian Casino set off I-40. Other signs of inhabitants included fenced off land, telephone and power lines, periodic ranch houses and school bus shelters. We also saw some broken beer and whiskey bottles along the road when we stopped to take yet more pictures.

Periodic groups of sheep and cattle indicated this was grazing land. Although the highway to the Second Mesa was sixty miles long, the time passed quickly as we were absorbed by the beauty of the landscape. Highway 60 ended at the approach to Second Mesa. Looking up and seeing adobe houses built into the brown mesa brought home to me what the pueblo culture must have looked like when Coronado and the Spanish missionaries first came to the area.

There was a cluster of FEMA looking buildings at the end of the road. There were also some adobe cottages whose yards were filled with piles of old furniture, new mountain bikes and the ever present trucks. We saw some satellite dishes to indicate 21^st Century technology. We parked in the gravel lot that served the cluster of federal buildings. On the Sipalovi Activities Center we saw the sign indicating the four Klans of the Hopi. The hand painted sign consisted of a hand with each finger painted with the animal connected to each Klan – a snake, gourd, bear claw and tarantula. The offices were closed but flyers outside described various programs available to the people, especially youth and elder nutrition programs. A woman in a black SUV drove into the gravel lot. She was most helpful, telling us that the village we wanted to see was indeed atop the high mesa. She also told us there would be dancing in the village center that day and we could attend with no trouble. Thus began the highlight of our sojourn into New Pangaea.

We traveled the winding, dirt road to the top of the mesa. Suddenly, we were driving along a road with adobe houses lining the path, one after another. There were people walking everywhere and parking was sporadic and uncontrolled. The thing that struck me was how quiet it was despite the throng of men, women and children walking to the village square. We parked in a spot where we thought we wouldn’t be locked in and joined the throng, moving into the center of the village. At the village center, we saw openings in the adobe floors with ladders disappearing into them. These were probably the village storehouses. I also thought one of them must be where the very private, spiritual ceremonies were held.

As we approached the center, we saw chairs surrounding the “stage” which was no more than a flat, open area. There were also chairs set atop the roofs of the houses. We found a seat on a flat bench surrounded by chairs, sat down and quietly waited for the dancing to begin. Although almost every chair was filled and much of the audience included children of all ages, the behavior of these children amazed us. They sat quietly next to their mothers, many of whom had brought baskets of food that they deposited in the stage area before being seated. In front of us was an elderly village lady. She had the exquisitely lined face of wisdom as she sat shielding her eyes from the bright sun with a resplendent, green and yellow wrap that sparkled in the light.

We sat and watched with her as people began bringing in basket after basket filled with fruits, vegetables, baked sweets and bags of popcorn. There were corn, squash and apples and oranges. Some of the apples filled boxes from the state of Washington and the parade of food continued throughout the ceremony. Much of the food was carried into the center by men who had obviously bathed themselves in mud. They were shirtless and many had English phrases on their backs. At last the dancers came from somewhere onto the stage. I was breathless.

A parade of about twenty masked dancers made a circle around the baskets of food. Their faces and bodies were covered entirely by hand made regalia obviously passed down from generation to generation. The gray wool tunic and “skirt” were adorned with red and black symbols that matched those on the full masks that forbid any recognition. I could tell that some of the dancers had family in the audience by the slight gestures they made in certain areas at different times. That was the only communication that came from these dancers.

 Some of the dancers had Klan insignias on parts of the leg that was exposed, but all wore jingle bells on the left ankle and round turtle gourds attached to the right knee. These made the only noise when they began a rhythmic dance done by stamping the left foot in time to the drumming by the masked “musicians” whose regalia appeared to be for women, although they, too, were entirely covered. No one spoke as the dancing continued. Two men in black tunics appeared at the middle of the circle and began dancing as the surrounding dancers kept time.

 These dancers performed some sort of initiation ceremony for a young male whom they brought into the circle. He was wearing jeans and had on untied tennis shoes. As part of the ceremony the solo dancers bent down and tied his shoes. He then joined them in their dance. As the dancing continued the mud baked men walked around the circle dropping dust onto all the participants. After the initiation the “female” musicians left the circle and the remaining participants began throwing fruit, candy and popcorn into the audience. These were directed toward the children. Once again, I marveled at how the children caught their gifts freely without other children in the area trying to catch them. The children held their gifts without opening them for the rest of the ceremony. Then the dancers turned to the women.

One dancer brought an armful of vegetables and gave them to the woman elder in front of us. Then, something astounding happened. One of the dancers held out a huge zucchini squash and offered it to me. I signaled “me?” silently and he shook his head “yes.” I accepted with gratitude and humility. Then I noticed that the women with families started receiving bags of fruits and vegetables. Although food was continuously being given away, the amount of food in the circle stayed rather constant, as more and more continued coming in. This reminded me of the Iroquois legend of the cornucopia basket.

The Iroquois believed that the Great Mystery who lived in the heavens above supplied all creatures below through a funnel shaped cloud. The small opening at the top created a vacuum through which food flowed freely. The food continued to flow only if the bottom stayed empty. That’s why their food baskets used in their harvest were shaped like funnel shaped clouds – a reminder to keep the food flowing by keeping it empty.

The masks worn by the circle dancers also reminded me of the Iroquois masks of the False Face Society that kept disease and evil spirits away from the society’s homes. I felt as though I were, indeed, experiencing a New Pangaea. Eventually, the dancers handed my male companion a box of fruit. His reaction reflected the western cultural beliefs that it is not right for those who have plenty to accept from those who, at first glance, have much less. He was hesitant to receive it, but I encouraged him to take it. He finally accepted the fruit after his efforts to give it to the young family next to us failed.

 One of the best things we received was a delicious cookie that had green and yellow icing. The spiral shape reminded us of the spiral carvings we had seen on the lava rock in Petro glyph National Park on the West Mesa of Albuquerque, New Mexico. One of the legends of this carving is that it portrays the entrance of the Ancient Ones from the center of the earth and their circular journey from birth to death.

A group of women approached the bench on which we were seated and indicated that we needed to move. We did so without hesitation and walked back to our car. The drive back to I-40 as well as the rest of the drive from Arizona passed quickly as Carl and I shared our thoughts about what we had just experienced.  In my efforts to connect with ancient cultures and what was once Pangaea, I had found the origins of a New Pangaea. This filled me with enthusiasm and hope as I returned to my 21^st Century world filled with the challenges brought about from polarization and our lost memories of what we once were and can be again.