I’ll meet you on the river’s shore . . .
There was an Indian Newspaper published out of Montana which, is now gone. Much of what was there, was worthy for Indian or non-Indian, and I remember that newspaper and I also wish it were still here. It was good.
But, anyway, they had their Wise Old Men and Women, who were deeply honored for their insight, and some of their words impressed me so much I saved them. Such as today’s words. I pondered over the words then, cut them out, saved them, and dang it all, as I pore over them again, once more I ponder, and shiver.
Scan them yourself, word by word, and see what they do for you.
THE TWELFTH HOUR
For long centuries the world’s been told
“This is the 11th Hour”
And we knew it to be true.
But quietly, almost secretly, the 11th Hour passed
And now, the hoped for, but feared,
Twelfth Hour is Here. It is Now.
It is the time to know our own Truth,
And cease looking outward for another
To tell us what to think and do.
It can be a glorious time, for
The River is flowing fast.
So rapidly that many are afraid
And cling to the shore
Crying out that they are being torn to pieces.
But the River knows The Destination.
Let go of the shore,
Dive joyously into the midst of the stream.
See who is with you and rejoice!
Look fearlessly at your fears
And never once reach back to the shore,
For whenever we stop to question
Our Spiritual Journey also stops.
The River knows the Way and
Will carry you with it!
Look to no other for counsel,
For the time of asking others is long past.
Be Still and allow yourself
To know and act in a sacred manner.
That wondrous Hour
Is no longer anticipated
But is here. Now.
In awe and humility know that
You chose to be part of the Change.
and
Are one of those the world has long awaited.
Yeah, shiver, shiver, shiver. No longer the 11th Hour, but it’s now the 12th, and we, you and I chose to be here, at this time, and to do our part. What does it mean? And, shiver once more as the last line tells us that each of us is one of those that the world spoke of. The long awaited ones.
I write and share words that mean something to me. These wise Indian words touched me when I ‘found’ them, a few decades ago, and they affected me in the very manner today. Good luck, and, who knows? Maybe we’ll meet at the river’s shore.
I picked this up in 1960 while in Texas on my mission:
When I read your column of the swift and moving river, I remembered a poem I heard way back when.
HE NEVER KNOWS
(I either didn’t pay attention to the author or there was none listed)
He who stays at home
Thru rain and sunny weather,
Never knows the distant road,
Bordered by heather.
Never knows the ocean’s roar,
Nor the foam-curved sand.
Never hears the whistling train,
Sees the lifted hand;
Yet, the wanderer who goes
From sea to alien loam,
Never knows the quiet peace,
The wonder that is home.
JIM, I love the words you sent along and have pondered and read them each day since I rec’d them. Thanx. I can see that young man that you then were, and the thought of ‘home’. with Walt. Fern, Adene and Ken must have been a heart-tugger. Your Dad, Jim, was a real HOME person. Yeah, loved and did roam, but dang, it, remember that he took his family (his home) along with him. Even on his Last Journey, there was family, Adene, there with him. God bless them both. The last, in this body for him, but one of many for Adene. Capitalize the last last word of your long-kept poem, and make it, “The wonder that is Home’, and you have the answer of to much of our entire life-time, inner insecurities.
love from, ur ant ethel
Ethel:
What a wonderful blog, it make me think that life is like a river, and we must run with it or get caught in the bulrushes and then what? We must continue in the stream and make the best of the currents and continue on our journey until we again come to the eternal shore.
Thanks so much for sharing.
Militia Earl’s mom.