And let me share with you this bedtime,
The smoking of the peace pipe from the song of fire weather by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
So make yourself comfortable in your bed,
Your armchair or your easy chair.
Take a deep in breath and breathe out with your mouth slightly open so all the stale air leaves your lungs.
And we'll begin.
The Smoking of the Peace Pipe On the mountains of the prairie,
On the great red pipe stone quarry,
Gitcha Monito the mighty,
He the master of life descending,
On the red crags of the quarry,
Stood erect and called all the nations,
Called the tribes of men together.
From his footprints flowed a river,
Leaped into the light of morning,
O the precipice plunging downwards,
Gleamed like Ishkuda the comet,
And the spirit stooping earthward,
With his finger on the meadow,
Tracing a winding pathway for it,
Saying,
Run this way.
From the red stone of the quarry,
With his hand he broke a fragment,
Molded it into a pipe head,
Shaped and fashioned it with figures,
From the margin of the river,
Took a long reed for a pipe stem,
With its dark green leaves upon it,
Filled the pipe with bark of willow,
With the bark of the red willow,
Breathed upon the neighbouring forest,
Made its great boughs chafe together,
Till in flame they burst and kindled,
And erect upon the mountains Gitcha Monito the mighty,
Smoked the calumé the peace pipe,
As a signal to the nations.
And the smoke rose slowly,
Slowly,
Through the tranquil air of morning,
First a single line of darkness,
Then a denser blew a vapour,
Then a snow-white cloud unfolding,
Like the tree tops of the forest,
Ever rising,
Rising,
Rising,
Till it touched the top of heaven,
Till it broke against the heaven,
And rolled outwards all around it.
From the Vale of Tawa-Centre,
From the Valley of Wyoming,
From the groves of Tukalusa,
From the far-off rocky mountains,
From the northern lakes and rivers,
All the tribes beheld the signal,
Saw the distant smoke ascending,
The Pukwana of the peace pipe.
And the prophets of the nations said,
Behold it,
The Pukwana,
By the signal of the peace pipe,
Bending like a wand of willow,
Leaving like a hand that beckons,
Kichiminito the mighty,
Calls the tribes and men together,
Calls the warrior to his council.
Down the rivers o'er the prairies,
Came the warriors of the nations,
Came the Delawares and Mohawks,
Came the Choctaws and the Comanches,
Came the Shonees and the Blackfeet,
Came the Pawnees and the Omahas,
Came the Mandans and the Dakotas,
Came the Hurons and the Obtuwes.
All the warriors drawn together,
By the signal of the peace pipe,
To the mountains of the prairie,
To the great red pipe stone quarry,
And they stood there on the meadow,
With their weapons and their war gear,
Painted like the leaves of autumn,
Painted like the sky of morning,
Wildly glaring at each other,
In their faces stern defiance,
In their hearts the feuds of ages.
The hereditary hated,
The ancestral thirst of vengeance,
Kichiminito the mighty,
The creator of the nations,
Looked upon them with compassion,
With paternal love and pity,
Looked upon their wrath and wrangling,
But as quarrels among children,
But as feuds and the fights of children,
Over them he stretched his right hand,
To subdue their stubborn natures,
To allay their thirst and fever,
By the shadow of his right hand,
Spake to them with voice majestic,
As the sound of far-off waters,
Falling into deep abysses,
Warning,
Chiding,
Spake in this wise,
O my children,
My poor children,
Listen to the words of wisdom,
Listen to the words of warning,
From the lips of the Great Spirit,
From the Master of Life who made you,
I have given you lands to hunt in,
I have given you streams to fish in,
I have given you bear and bison,
I have given you roe and reindeer,
I have given you brandt and beaver,
Fill the marshes full of wildfowl,
Fill the rivers full of fishes,
Why then are you not contented,
Why then will you hunt each other?
I am weary of your quarrels,
Weary of your wars and bloodshed,
Weary of your prayers for vengeance,
Of your wranglings and dissensions,
All your strength is in your union,
All your danger is in discord,
Therefore be at peace henceforward,
As brothers live together.
I will send a prophet to you,
A deliverer of the nations,
Who shall guide you and shall teach you,
Who shall toil and suffer for you.
If you listen to his counsels,
You will multiply and prosper,
If his warnings pass unheeded,
You will fade away and perish.
Bathe now in the stream before you,
Wash the war paint from your faces,
Wash the bloodstains from your fingers,
Break the redstone from this quarry,
Mould it and make it into peace pipes,
Take the reeds that grow beside you,
Deck them with your brightest feathers,
Smoke the calumé together,
And as brothers live henceforward.
Then upon the ground the warriors,
Through their cloaks and shirts of deerskin,
Through their weapons and their war gear,
Leaped into the rushing river,
Wash the war paint from their faces,
Clear above them flowed the water,
Clear and limpid from the footprints Of the master of life descending,
Dark below them flowed the water,
Soiled and stained with streaks of crimson,
As if blood were mingled with it.
From the river came the warriors,
Clean and washed from all their war paint,
On the banks their clubs they buried,
Buried all their warlike weapons.
Gichimanito the mighty,
The great spirit the creator,
Smiled upon his helpless children,
And in silence all the warriors Broke the redstone of the quarry,
Smoothed and formed it into peace pipes,
Broke the long reeds by the river,
Met them with their brightest feathers,
And departed each one homeward,
While the master of life ascending,
Through the opening of cloud curtains,
Through the doorways of the heaven,
Vanished from before their faces,
In the smoke that rolled around him,
The pocuana of the peace pipe.
What a wonderful epic tale,
Written by Longfellow in 1855,
But perhaps relevant more today than ever.
And as you slide towards slumber,
Just muse on this,
What epic adventures can you dream of for tomorrow?
What peace can you make with those around you?
What can you achieve if you stop struggling,
Stop fighting and stop warring with yourself and others?
Sleep tight and sweet dreams.
