Echoes of the Past

Echoes of the Past
ISBN-10
1490745548
ISBN-13
9781490745541
Series
Echoes of the Past
Category
Religion
Pages
161
Language
English
Published
2014-09-10
Publisher
Trafford Publishing
Author
Carolyn Rose Durling

Description

Words spoken through the mists of time: Trustwe love with pure heart, pure intent! Truthwe seek that which cannot be seen! Soulwe touch that which cannot be felt! Bitternesswe taste that which does not pass our lips! Successwe smell that which so sweetly does it hold the senses, yet of aroma it has none! Logicwe understand the concept of life, yet do know not how! Emotionswe heal the wounds within where scars do not show, yet go deeper than most! This book is about the struggles of a proud and resilient people whose way of life was to be altered without thought for their traditions or culture as the white men infiltrated deeper and deeper into their lands. It reflects their way of life before it changed, and the effect it was to have on a nation ground down by ignorance and greed. There are many reasons for this work, and spirit laid no blame on those perpetrators; the main reason they have come forward now is the need to see our world saved from the power struggle going on between nations, and the rape of our beautiful lands. Having been taken on many journeys with them, I understand so clearly how the indomitable spirit of this culture must stay alive, this being the reason for every word channeled. To walk in shadow of sun is natural; to walk in shadow of another man is not. A Hand Held Out I am being shown a beautiful babbling brook. The sun is glistering on its surface as a thousand lights dancing with joy. A hand is being held out to me. I have to trust that all will be revealed as I walk into the picture. I can smell the newness of the morning, and sweet Bird song assails my ears. My (as yet to introduce himself) friend, tells me I am being taken on a journey of learning. So I follow... I follow a voice... a hand... I listen and I wait. I spy Red Squirrel scurrying around foraging among fallen leaves for nuts. They do not notice me, for I am not really there, only in the sense of illusion. Trailing along the brook i am shown a beautiful little Pawnee child. She is playing in the water with a small dog that is yapping and running in circles around the child who is giggling and laughing at its antics. I feel as though I am watching this on a cinema screen, and yet I am being pulled into the scene by some unknown force.

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