Native Strength: The First Step on the Path to an Indomitable Life

© 2016 Hyapatia Lee. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/19/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-2368-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-2367-8 (e)

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CONTENTS

Preface

Emotional Strength

The Flowering Tree

Explanation of the Flowering Tree

Depression

Grief

Little Jumping Mouse

Exercise

The Wheel of Life

Karma

Acquisition Syndrome

Cannabis

Sexuality

About the Author

PREFACE

One of the reasons so little of our Native American traditions have been passed down has to do with an unreasonable and even bizarre controversy. The argument is primarily about who has the right to share such knowledge. The United States government began this debate and it has been perpetuated by Native people themselves. Native Americans are the only race that is forced to prove their identity in the United States. We are also the only race to have an entire governmental office devoted to overseeing us, the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The U.S. government made it illegal in 1934 for anyone without a provable blood lineage to a registered tribe to participate in traditional ceremonies. These included, but are not limited to, the controversial peyote ceremony. This prompted Native populations to question each other. Sometimes this can make me feel like a dog applying for membership in the AKC. I have to explain to people where my Native blood came from and just how much is non-Native. So, for those of you who care, here is my pedigree:

I was born in Indianapolis, Indiana. I am a registered member of the Southeastern Cherokee Council, Inc in Ochlocknee, Georgia. The majority of my Native American blood comes from mother’s side of the family. My ancestors on my mother’s side can be traced back to John Calvin Lee on the Dawes rolls. These were officially known as the Final Rolls of the Citizens and Freedmen of the Five Civilized Tribes in Indian Territory and began in 1898. They listed the individual’s name, age, sex, blood degree and census card number and page, enrollment number and tribe. John Calvin Lee was a full-blooded member of the Cherokee Tribe. This name was handed down through our family several times. I have not been able to explore the depths of my father’s Native ancestry but it comes from both his mother and his father and includes some Irish blood. I hold little hope of ever finding out the exact heritage.

I was named a Blessed Woman for the Lost River band of the Cherokees in Mitchell, Indiana by their chief, George Miller. Nancy Ward was the most well-known of the Blessed Women. There is a Nancy Ward chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution of which my great-grandmother Lee was a proud member. The Cherokees had seven clans. Traditionally a Blessed Woman represented her clan in tribal councils and had many duties including being responsible for deciding the fate and treatment of prisoners. For several years I taught the Cherokee language, songs and traditions to the people of the Lost River Band. I also conducted sweat lodges, and healing ceremonies. I do not hold sweat lodges, healing ceremonies or other such events for money, gifts, tobacco, cannabis or anything else of physical value. I do not sell my culture; it is free to anyone who wishes to learn, just like any other. One does not have to prove Italian ancestry to be Roman Catholic and it should be the same way with our religion.

There was a popular tradition in the late 1800’s called the Ghost Dance. It was given to the people by a man named Wovoka and its purpose was to reunite the living with the souls of the dead. It spread form tribe to tribe. Many believed they were dancing and praying for a great awakening, a major transformation of society when there would be a return to the ways of our people, a time when the earth would be honored. It is suggested that perhaps all the people who have a love of Native culture, whether they have one drop of Native blood or not, are the returned souls of our ancestors. Some believe those who have such a calling are Native in spirit. It may be that the prayers have been answered and we are on the precipice of this renewed awakening.

In the 1970’s there were several people who tried to share Native knowledge with the world. They were shunned and persecuted. To be sure, these people were flawed, as am I, as are you. It is not about the messenger. The message is all that matters. If we wait for a perfect person to present the wisdom of our elders it will never be done. Our world is quite literally falling apart and everyone in it is suffering to some extent. Only a cruel, evil person would withhold information that could ease the pain and suffering of even one individual. My hope is that the information I have learned can help other people as well. If something does not ring true for you, simply discard it. If only one thing can be of help to you, I will be happy.

I believe all knowledge known to humankind should be readily available to anyone who wishes to learn, regardless of bloodline. I see no logic in continuing a system of discrimination started by a government that tried to exterminate us. Our culture includes such things as the peyote ceremony, cannabis use and the honoring of eagle feathers. Our government wanted to make sure the predominant culture did not take up these practices, as well as many other parts of the Native heritage. Since this country was founded on freedom of religion, this continues to be a problem. The Government made it legal for Natives of a certain blood to follow their culture. When the Native blood was sufficiently mixed, the government made it illegal for them to do such things. Requiring Native blood quantum for such things is a perfect way to wipe such knowledge from the face of the earth. It works especially well when the people one is trying to annihilate have now taken up that cause and enforce the restriction themselves. If we truly want to leave a better world for our children unto seven generations, the practice of limiting knowledge to those who can prove a certain lineage has to stop. If we can make this world a better place but choose not to because the people in it are not Native enough, what kind of people does that make us? We are then no better than the ones who perpetuated our holocaust. We have just continued their mission for them.

And who suffers from all of this mess? The children today are in terrible distress. The second leading cause of teen death in the United States at the time of this writing is suicide. There are over 38,000 total suicide deaths in the United States each year. Therefore, I am writing this book as a letter to my grandchildren. They deserve to know how to find happiness. I don’t care how diluted their Native blood is. That is irrelevant. They deserve a world that has kindness and hope abundantly available to them. Tomorrow is not promised to any of us. We do not know what the future holds. I may not be available to them when they are ready to receive this information. So it is for them, and for everyone else in this world who draws breath now or will in the future, that I write this book.

For those who may assume my life has been easy and that happiness has been abundant in my world, you are sorely mistaken. If you are interested, I wrote The Secret Lives of Hyapatia Lee in 2000 about my traumatic life and subsequent mental health issues. I wrote about my abandonment, poverty, homelessness, childhood sexual abuse, rape by a stranger who broke into my home, divorce, loss of house to an earthquake, loss of my home to a fire and three miscarriages. Since the writing of my last book I nearly froze to death due to hypothyroidism, had a stillborn son. I have had years of traditional talk therapy, even buried two therapists along the way who succumbed to cancer and a heart attack. I have tried just about every psychiatric medication available. Nothing made my life any easier. Happiness was a myth. I waited impatiently for the day I would die fearing that if I tried to take my own life I would