I am an Indian, I don’t understand.

  Let’s go, the world’s children!

  With an elf hand in hand,
  heading for the wilderness and the river.
  The world is crying too much,
  you don’t understand.
  - Yeats “Stolen Child”


  For a long time, the mainstream world consists of three strong people; those who follow the personality gods (such as Jesus, Buddha, and Confucius), those who do not believe in any god (such as materialists), and those who do not believe (virtists).

  For a long time, we gradually forgot that there is another kind of person in the world: they sing the natural gods, they are the believers of the earth, they have the oldest and mysterious quality – the quality of “early morning”; their spiritual temperament is close to children, their eyes are clear, their temperament Fluffy, behavior is poetic…

  They are called an indigenous or a tribe.

  Because it was small and weak, because there was no thought of conquest, it was conquered.

  Even like the songs in the valley, it will disappear forever.

  I am not one of them, but I can’t help but miss them when I think of the words mysterious, rich, beautiful, and innocent.

  I call it “the person in the morning.” There are very few people who are BLOG in wood.

  Albert Einstein begged his compatriots: “Expand the scope of love to all living beings and the whole of nature.” There is a group of people who think so at the beginning, just do it.

  They worship the earth as their father, and regard all things as brothers; they are acquainted with the spirituality of plants, streams, and worms, and lean down to talk with them; they are never arrogant, do not pursue the specialization of any species including themselves; in order to survive, they They are not picking up; picking and catching cats, but they are careful, with love, gratitude and apology; they firmly believe that the earth is unyielding, and that people belong to the earth; they think that deer, horses, hawks, grass stems and people belong to the same family, and worship The ethnic group of a certain thing is different. They love all, and are all members and all elements of nature.

  Because of the fire-like skin color and naked chest, they call themselves “red people.”

  Historically, they were called Indians.


  In 1851, the US government wanted to exchange Indian land for money. In order to achieve peace, they accepted it. In Burgh Bay, Washington, a chief named Seattle, facing the city and whites, delivered a speech: “In our memory, in our lives, every bright pine Every beach, every scent of the forest, every insect that introduces introspection and howling is sacred…you and my way of life are completely different, the eyes of the Indians–see your city You feel no pain, you can’t hear the sound of the leaves in the spring, the sound of the insects flapping the wings: I can’t hear the frogs in the pond arguing… Your noise humiliates my ears. Is this life alive? I am Indian, I don’t understand.”

  I am an Indian, I don’t understand.

  Later, a big city in the United States took the name of the chieftain, Seattle.

  There is a contemporary story: an Indian who lives in the mountains all the year round and is invited by the New Yorkers to be a guest in the city. When he crossed the road from the airport, he suddenly shouted: “Have you heard the buzz?” The New Yorker smiled. “You have been flying for too long, and you have an auditory hallucination.” After two steps, the Indians stopped again. “I’m really awkward, I heard it.” New Yorkers are not happy: “Hey, there’s a hole in the construction, can’t you say it?” The Indians silently walked to the grass outside the zebra crossing. Opened a trunk, it was true, there were two cockroaches.

  The deafness of urban people is because his organs are only open to certain kinds of things, such as money, keyboard, telephone, securities, calculators, …” thus closing the spirituality. The Indians’ hearing is not “good”, the face is normal and clear – normal without pollution and interference, no clearing and siltation. The Indians live in the ears all year round, pure and slender things, so as long as those things flash, the wood logs will be heard. .

  As a warning, as a condition of signing the contract, the Seattle chief asked the white man: “Remember and educate your children. The river is our brother and yours. In the future, please treat them with your hands and feet… Please treat the beasts on the ground as Brother. I heard that thousands of bison corpses are lying on the grassland. White people shot them from the train! We only hunt for survival. If there is no beast, what is it? If the beast If you lose it, human beings will die alone. Those who happen to beasts will return to humans… If you continue to soil your bed, you will suffocate in your own filth.’

  Unfortunately, these industrialists who were conceited by trains and bullets were not scared by the advice of feathers. They are not afraid, they are not afraid of anything!

  How can the people in the evening hear in the voice of the early morning?

  The Jewish writer Essing Singh said: “Everyone is a Nazi in terms of human behavior against other creatures.”

  The bison in the North American continent has a maximum of 400-500 million heads, and there are still 40 million heads in the middle of the 19th century. However, with the entry of whites, there are only a few hundred in the 50 years.

  Then, people have been embarrassed. Mumu In 1874, a gold mine was discovered on the Indian territory. The whites ruined the peace agreement and set off with explosives, maps and bottles. Soon, the bloody moor of the bison became a human blood pool.


  The “early morning” of the Indians has fallen, leaving only the stars and stripes at dusk and the fireworks of celebrations.

  Leopold said: “Many of the wildernesses that have made us build the United States have disappeared.”

  The United States, born on the vast and childhood genes of North America, is the result of the centuries-old freedom of exile in Europe that has encountered the vast continent. And on the day of its success, it has given the motherhood of the greatest virtue and grace – the wilderness. As a result, it can no longer replicate the myth of ancient Greece. It can only be cast in the name of modernity with a country that is rational, logical, and legal, not beautiful.

  I often think that the elegy of the Indians is the death knell of human childhood. Is there a child in the world and a poetic future?

  In Seattle, like the dawn, the sky is hanging: “I am Indian, I don’t understand.”

  Yes, how can people in the morning know about the evening?

  If I can choose, I also want to be an Indian – those who rarely have very few people today, even if they start early in the morning, die in the morning.