Lifting The Light

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The Art Part

Pine Ridge has some amazing artists. Below are the few pieces that are available now. If you see one you want just go to Paypal and do a Send Money to me at lightshinelakota@yahoo.com. If the piece does not say sold by the price it is still available. Thanks!!

 

Joe Pulliam original watercolor "Buffalo Tipi" 6x12 $100

Kevin Poor Bear original pastel 18x24 "All My Relations"  $275

Kevin Poor Bear original pastel "Eagle Rising" 18 x24  $240

Donovan White Eyes DreamCatcher....$125

Kevin Poor Bear Acrylic on canvas  16x20  $250

Merle Locke original watercolor 18x24 framed $280

KC Willis Workshops at The Retreat at Mustang Shadows

In order to spend more time on the Reservation, I stopped traveling around the country and teaching art workshops about a year ago. But now I have found a beautiful place in the Cascade Valley of South Dakota...sitting right on the Cheyenne River where I can hold a few classes a year and still be close to the Rez.

Nestled up against the land that is home to The Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary, The Retreat at Mustang Shadows is the perfect place for a workshop of art or a rebirth of the spirit...or perhaps both! Each class is limited to 5 and accommodations at this beautiful ranch are included in the price. With such a limited workshop size and the fact that I don't teach very much any more...the workshops will very likely fill fast, so reserve your spot today for a once in a lifetime experience.

Workshops are 2 1/2 days long and include 3 nights at the ranch house and breakfast and lunch. We will most likely go out for dinner in the nearby town of Hot Springs, SD. If you want to stay an extra day or two and visit the Wild Horse Sanctuary and/or spend a day on the Pine Ridge Reservation with me, you may do so for and extra per-night fee.

Mornings will find us out on the deck or back patio having our coffee and watching the deer meander down to the Cheyenne River (which is at the bottom of the hill). Bald eagles nest in the buttes nearby. In the evening we can sit around the fire pit enjoying the silence of the ranch and the millions of stars that are visible on the South Dakota plains.

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Collage in the Country

In a setting that has history written all over it, what better place to create a piece of work that is aged, full of story and beauty. Using photographs of your family's history or choosing one of mine from the history of this area or of the Lakota people, we will create a textured piece of art that will remind you of your time on the ranch forever. A half day of the class will be a writing class where we will create a poem, a letter or a short-short story based on our image and tuck it into the piece. We will also walk the area a bit and collect things from the grounds and create a piece that allows found objects, meant to never be used again, to become a piece of art.

While this obviously the Wild West here, your work does not have to be western in theme.

The point of the workshop is as much about rejuvenating your spirit, your creative life and your future, as it is about making art. Join me. Things just might not ever be quite the same again.

Retreat Dates:

The first day of the retreat begins at 3 pm and goes til 7. Arrive by 2. You can fly into Rapid City, which is only 45 minutes from The Ranch. If the dates below don't work for you or your friends, it is possible to book a workshop retreat just for your group on an agreed upon date. Needs to be a minimum of 3 and price does not change. List the dates you are paying for on your Paypal payment or e-me.

May 17-19, 2013

July 11-13, 2013

September 19-20, 2013

November 1-3, 2013

Workshop and bed/breakfast for 3 nights...$620

Each additional night on the Ranch is $100 (includes breakfast and lunch and transportation to Pine Ridge).

To reserve your spot pay in full using the Paypal button or e-me at lightshinelakota@yahoo.com to use a credit card over the phone. If you know you want to spend an additional day or 2 and go to the Rez with me, you can pay for the additional now or let me know no later than 30 days before the class.

Each additional night at the Ranch....$100

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The Fabric of Faith...Five Smooth Stones.

This is a great opportunity to participate in a multi-layered study of Grace, Faith and beating the giants in your life, while creating a mixed media collage piece. In this 2 day class, held at The Ranch (shown above) KC Willis will walk you through a teaching of David and his life, along with a whole new way to look at the scraps collected by The Twelve on the day Jesus fed the 5000. Together these two teachings will offer you an insight into your past, present and future that may very well change how you see your world and its problems...and remove any walls you may have between you and the power of God.

Step by step the conference will explore techniques in collage and mixed media through the creation of a Teaching Tapestry. A Tapestry that will be built on creative skills and the lessons learned from David's flaws, failures and fearlessness, brought to completion in the teachings and the life of Christ. Under each piece of fabric will be a lesson learned from the scraps we have taken onto our own boat as we make our journey in this world and each will determine the strengths we have in the form of our own 5 smooth stones that we carry inside. The scrolls on the piece will house private thoughts on facing the giants...new ways of conquering that you will discover in the workshop. Learn how to "kill" at fabric collage and slay a few giants in your life in this powerful and fun 2 day workshop held in The Black Hills of South Dakota.

Accommodations at the Ranch are included in the price of the conference. You may schedule to stay an extra day or 2 and go with me to the Pine Ridge Reservation (45 minutes away) and/or visit The Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary adjacent to Mustang Shadows. The only charge for the additional days is the price to for room and board at the Ranch. $100 per night.

The Fabric of Faith will be held August 12-13,2013.

$470

Rez Images 2012

Rez Dogs...A Love Story

Meghan and Protector

If you are an animal lover, the Pine Ridge Reservation can be a tough place to be. Dogs by themselves and in packs are a common sight. In the summer they are hot, hungry, and scared. And in the winter they are cold, hungry, and scared. There is no shelter, no spay and neuter program and animal control is an occasional rounding-up of strays, who are then taken out to the dump and shot. The dump is also where unwanted dogs and puppies are...well...dumped. Hundreds and hundreds of animals do not survive their first year on the Rez.

But thanks to dedicated Lakota animal lovers on Pine Ridge, a wonderful Native man who scours the dump, locals who help injured dogs and a rancher from nearby Gordon named Miss Jean, hundreds, if not thousands of Rez dogs have been saved and are living in homes all across America - including mine. Miss Jean has been known to race the 50 miles to the Rez, when she gets wind of an impending “sweep” of the strays and fills up her truck with as many dogs as she can get her hands on. Sometimes going many miles into the heart of the reservation to find the “lost ones”...those who are wandering in the middle of nowhere far from any handouts or trash cans. It was in one such remote location that my friend Charlie Yellowbird and I were driving one day, when we had to slow down as 2 skinny dogs crossed the road in the middle of nowhere.

Charlie spoke under his breath more to himself than to me.

“Survivors”, he whispered, never taking his eyes off the dogs. He was honoring them with the word; perhaps he recognized himself as the third member of the pack. Survivors all.

 But nowhere on the Rez is this word more appropriate than for the dogs and the humans who live on the streets of Whiteclay. A mere 1000 yards off the Rez, Whiteclay, Nebraska is home to 14 permanent residents who have roofs over their heads.  It is also home to 30 or so who call the streets and the abandoned houses that dot the two-block-long town...home. At any given time there are a dozen adult dogs and an assortment of puppies trying to survive the summer, but most won't survive the winter. The Rising Warriors of the streets are family we know and love, and to many of them the street dogs are their family. They share their food with the strays, name them, sleep with them and on more than one occasion have covered the dead body of a dog with the one blanket they possess. The streets of Whiteclay are dark and violent for man, woman and dog. For every dog who has someone who loves them, there are two dogs who are chased off, kicked, punched and cussed at; dogs who will not know a gentle touch unless someone places a blanket over them when their street hell is over.

Protector

But one four legged girl has it better than most. She is loved by he Rising Warriors...even
revered. They call her “Protector”.  Rumor has it, that when bad spirits try to get into the abandoned house where they sleep, Protector will bark and scare them off.  Many know her, some love her, but to Robert Little Crow, a beautiful soul whose address has been the streets of Whiteclay for 15 years...she is his best friend.  A former radical member of the  American Indian Movement, (AIM) Robert these days is more likely to be found being sure Protector is free from ticks and is often seen limping across the street with an empty broken dish of some sort or another filled with water for "his girl." Feed Robert and you will be feeding Protector.

More than once, we have rescued a starving dog from the Rez streets and taken them out to Miss Jean's ranch, but it has never crossed my mind to grab Protector; she belongs to Robert- she is his guardian angel. But the week before Thanksgiving, myself, my niece Meghan and my nephew Robert decided we were going to pluck a little black and white abandoned mutt named “Oreo” off the streets before we headed back home. Simple enough?

 Not so much.

Oreo

Oreo had hung out all day long in front of our building in Whiteclay, but now that it was time to dog-nap her she was nowhere in sight. Neither was the other pup, Essie, we had decided needed to get off the streets, who seemed to have gotten wind of an ensuing liberation and stuck by our side all day.

My nephew came in and said. “We have to go if we are gonna get out to the ranch before dark, but the dogs aren’t here.”

Not only were the two we wanted not there...there was not a stray in sight. I had never seen that before.  Streets completely void of dogs. “Let’s pray ‘ em in!” I said with a laugh, but began to do just that. All of a sudden dogs appeared from behind buildings, from under cars and the two we wanted, walked right up to us. What happened next was just a little extra “God thing” thrown in to remind us who was in charge of the rescuing around here.

Robert Little Crow

Robert Little Crow hurried across the street as fast as his two bad legs would let him, “KC- wait!” he shouted. The three of us turned around, concerned by the urgency in his voice.  He kept talking as he crossed the street.

“Take my girl! Please! Take my girl!  She’s gonna have puppies. The last litter froze to death.” He had tears in his eyes. “Please get her out of here. We’ve spent two winters together in that basement over there. But she needs a better life than this.”

So do you, I thought to myself.

“Are you sure?” I asked, not knowing if she would come to us, let alone allow us to pick her up to put her in the truck.  Robert seemed to read my mind and he started to call her name. She appeared in seconds, answering the call of her trusted friend.

Robert knelt beside her hugging her. “I’ll miss her, I’ll miss her.” He kept repeating, tears streaming down his face.  Now you have to understand...when you live on the streets of Whiteclay you pretty much own nothing. Maybe you’ve been able to keep a backpack with a handful of this and that from being stolen while you were passed out drunk. Everything Robert owned and loved-he was hugging.

Without saying another word, he lifted Protector and put her in the truck. Just like that her new life had begun...and just like that Robert Little Crow became my hero.

Meghan and Essie on her rescue ride

Miss Jean’s ranch is miles off the main highway and then miles more into the center of the vast ranchlands outside Gordon, NE. In the back of our borrowed van were 3 dogs who had never been in a vehicle in their lives, who had never been put in a small space with other dogs and the sometimes-to-be-feared humans. My nephew, Robert crawled in the back with two of them and Meghan held one in her lap. Protector took quite awhile before she relaxed enough to lay down. An hour and many miles on gravel roads later, we delivered the comandeered canines to Miss Jean’s ranch where they were sure to spend this night safe, fed and warm for the first time in their lives.  







I couldn’t wait to tell Robert Little Crow how content Protector seemed and to be and thank him again for what he had done for her and her unborn litter. But what COULD wait was my telling him two days later...with temps in the single digits at night...that Protector had vanished; in the dark and the cold, more in the middle of nowhere than ever. Was she looking for Robert? Who knows. She was just gone.

 Miss Jean looked for her for days; hours every day, she was so distraught. Never in 25 years of rescuing dogs had she had a “non-feral” dog just vanish. All I could think about was how Protector would not have had any way of knowing how remote of an area she was in. I imagined her hungry, cold, pregnant and lost wandering the vast plains until she couldn’t. I prayed for God to keep her safe, I placed angels around her (I do that alot) and I asked Him not to let her suffer. I knew we had done the right thing, but I still felt guilty.

 A week later Jean stopped looking and I stopped praying. Protector was gone. God was in charge, as He always is. He knew where she was and he had not let her suffer. I was sure of it. He had protected Protector.

Two days ago it had been exactly a month since Protector had vanished into thin air. Robert, Meghan and I have been back in Colorado this whole time and I have not seen Robert Little Crow. He did not know that we had lost “his girl.” At night in my prayers, when I placed angels around Robert (and Eli and Donovan and Granny Back Pack etc.) I prayed that God would give me the right words to tell him when the moment came.

But thanks to Miss Jean's words on the other end of the phone...those words would not be necessary.

“You’ll never guess who is in my living room!”  she said excitedly....and I knew immediately.

“What the heck!” was all I could say.

A friend of Miss Jean’s had been feeding a stray at the hospital for over a week, thinking it belonged to one of his employees. Earlier that day when he saw the guy he pointed to the dog and told him he shouldn’t let his dog run loose like that.

His employee said “That’s not my dog.”  I'd like to think God then commented, “No... that’s my dog.”

Jean’s friend immediately scooped up the cold, hungry dog and took her to the only place to take a dog... Miss Jean's house.

“I can’t imagine what she must have been through.” Jean just kept saying over and over again. “It was so cold the first few nights after she disappeared. And Gordon is over 15 miles away!”

After examing Protector, Jean concluded that she was no longer pregnant and we had to assume the puppies hadn’t survived, as it didn’t appear Mama Dog was nursing. But Mama Dog was alive. Robert’s girl was alive. What an amazing end to an amazing story we all kept saying. Amazing? Yes. The end?

Not so much.

Protector slept in front of the fireplace for several hours, seemingly exhausted and not anxious in the least...at first. But suddenly she was up, pacing by the door, unable to settle back down. On a hunch born of rescuing thousands of dogs, Jean examined Protector again.

Milk. She was producing milk.

She quickly called her friend back at the hospital. “Can you show me exactly where you have seen this dog over the past week?”

 “Sure- why?” he asked.

 “I believe there are puppies out there.” She answered before racing out the door...Mama Dog on her heels. Over gravel roads the 15 miles to Gordon will take you a half an hour.

When Jean parked the car in front of the small hospital and opened the car door, Protector took off down the street. So did Jean, on foot...on a mission.

For well over an hour, she tried to keep up with Protector as she ran through backyards, up streets, down streets, sniffing out front porches, almost loosing sight of her several times. Finally, they turned a corner and Protector raced toward an abandoned house. Jean grabbed her hind quarters as she tried to get under the house in a small dug-out opening. Jean held onto Protector afraid that if she got inside the house she might refuse to come out. A phone call to the man who had returned Protector, brought him on the run, along with a thin, young man he worked with...who could fit in the opening.

 “Are you sitting down?” said a voice on the other end of the phone. “Seriously. Sit down.”

 “Ok”, I said, pulling up a stool in the kitchen.

“There are five of them.” She laughed.

“Five what?” I asked, even as I knew what she was going to say.

“Five puppies! Protector has 5 fat, healthy puppies!”

Five. The number of grace.

Protector.

Robert's girl.

Mama Dog.

Surrounded by angels...

by prayers...

by people who care.

Protector.

Protected.

Whisper out loud with me...

“Survivor.”

Epilogue:
If you would like to help us help the dogs on the Rez, you may donate to the dog rescue we now have with Miss Jean....LightShine Canine.  Visit us on FaceBook to see more pics of amazing dogs that have been rescued...redeemed and are ready to go..and of the Lakota young adults helping us. Go here to help us update the housing and fencing for the dogs on The Ranch....our much loved Mercy Mutts.

 

Protector and her puppies, along with Oreo and Essie, all have found good homes. Protector is being loved on a ranch in southern Nebraska....and Robert Little Crow was able to see pictures of her and her puppies and know they were cared for, before he too found a new home in Rapid City with a daughter who finally found him.  

Protector is a special, special dog. Please share her story.

To The Left Can Be Right

(Revised)





I don't know if you've noticed lately, but there is a bit of a revolution going on in the world of Believers who are not satisfied with what is being done today in the name of Christianity. It's a simmering stew of folks from all walks of life who are looking at this whole thing a little differently. And when I say simmering, I don't mean as about to boil into an angry mob, I mean simmering as in slow-cooking, great smells in the air all day, ready for a feast when it's ready-type simmering. It's a Love Stew and it's on the menu in cities big and small all over the country; a menu that does not say "we reserve the right to refuse service to everyone." Actually living the life of the Jesus we claim to follow is the main course and knowing we are walking His way is the dessert.

Way back in the late 60's, I was part of an amazing thing that moved across America. Hippies found Jesus and suddenly The Way of the Master was a cool thing and the Jesus Movement somehow made its way into even my little Southern Baptist church in Kenosha, Wisconsin. I was about 14-ish when I heard my first message by a groovy guy with hair long enough to give Moses a run for his manna...and being a girl who never in her life had the word cool attached to a sentence with her name in it...well I was hooked. Here was a way....One Way...as we groovy people called it...to love me some Jesus and be accepted all in one fell swoop.

But a revolution, as this surely was, by definition means turning the people around to a whole new way of life and leaving the old behind. The Jesus Movement didn't go over so well with the old guard who wanted things to stay the same. We had a new American Revolution on the march....one that took the words of Jesus seriously. ("The Red Letters are coming! The Red Letters are coming!") Some didn't like these young up-starts telling them how to love their neighbor. They knew perfectly well how to do that...as long as neighbor was defined as someone who looked like you, talked like you and didn't rock the boat you had built.  They were not so big on melding a family out of just any old material. The Anointed Groovy Ones tried to show them a different way....a way of accepting all peoples and reaching out to the least of these...not just bringing things to the poor every Christmas, but asking the poor to join them every day of the year. The Elders (those Non-Melders) didn't want those words pointed out to them...at all. They stuck to their preferred passages and ignored the ones about loving your neighbor and giving your coat to the cold. I think they were just a little more comfy with a God who was angry and cast people out...their kind of guy.

I see it happening again....this 21st century version of the Jesus Movement...complete with Jesus Freaks and enough Love to sink an Ark...and enough anger coming back at us to remind us that this Walk is not an easy one. That the anger is coming from fellow Christians is not surprising...disappointing...but not surprising. Guess it's hard to accept folks whose sin looks different from your sin.  I am old enough now to dig this new revolution in a way I couldn't at 14. This time I get the love-thing in a way that you can only get when you have spent your life looking out for you....selfish...self-absorbed...me with a capital M...like I have done. Suddenly there is an answer to the dreariness that long ago took over your interior weather patterns because YOU have been the only cloud in the sky.  Love 'em like Jesus. That's what's in my forecast...and it doesn't even have to be hard! Just set out everyday to be kind to those who cross your path. To help someone when you have the means to help them. You can join us in our work on the Pine Ridge Reservation or you can serve up the meal of love and and caring right in your own neighborhood. Do for one person what you wish you could do for everyone and we could put an end to what so many fear....taking care of the poor. That would be the war on poverty...and it would be won in the trenches of compassion.



When books like "Crazy Love", "Under the Overpass," Radical" and "Irresistible Revolution" are bestsellers...then I'm feelin' the winds of change and I'm praying for a big ol' storm. When you see it coming....don't run for the basement. Stand on the roof and say "Here! Over Here!"  I for one am truly welcoming this revolution that is sick and tired of things being done in the name of Jesus that don't have anything to do with the life He gave us as an example. Love. He was all about the love. Mercy. Justice. Walk humbly with your God.


I won't get it right all the time...but I will be doing something that matters with the days I have left.

The Book of Eli

They call him the "Godfather of Whiteclay."  He chuckles when someone refers to him that way....but his eyes don't smile. He can probably think of a lot of other things he'd rather be called than the king of the streets in a place where the streets are dark even in daylight; the place where the Lakota have committed death by Budwieser for decades. I can usually smell him before I see him...and still I am happy to see him. If you look at him through eyes that don't see him as the gift he is, then he is torn and tattered and beyond saving. But look again. His spirit shines through. With human contact and the calling of his name...his spirit shines through. When he sees me he says "There she is!" and my spirit shines through. I love him like the Son loves me...fully, joyfully, even when my sin makes me stink too.

Eli is writing a book. You won't find it on Amazon, but you will see it laid bare chapter by chapter if you will just take a few minutes and speak to him.

This chapter is entitled "Hell in a Handbasket."

"Look at our young men!" he cries out in a rare moment of sobriety, pointing to the constant stream of the Seventh Generation coming and going at the liquor store across the street from the building that houses my new ministry. "They have no direction. No one to tell them go this way...don't go that way."  He shakes his head and mumbles in Lakota. "I have been here for 28 years...longer than they have been alive. I would tell them don't come here...but they won't listen to me."

We talk about how the respect he has on the streets could be used to change the lives of these young men...but then we agree that the next time he gets clean and sober he needs to stay away from here. "Yeah, that's where I go wrong everytime," he admits. "I get sober and then I come here to help before I am well enough to do that."  We nod our heads in unison and watch the stream across the way turn into a river. Someone needs to put a "Deadly Undertow" sign on its banks.

The last day I was on the reservation, Eli had a seizure on the front porch of our building and wrote a chapter called "All Is Grace."  A woman from the tribe came in to tell me. She spoke with the same urgency that someone might have used to say they had found a pair of sunglasses in the parking lot.   Someone else called 911 and I went out to Eli. By the time I got there he was coming out of it and his muscles were hurting badly from the spasms. He was shouting to God at the top of his lungs.

"Grandfather! Grandfather! You want me? Come and get me! Please come and get me! Why do you leave me here to suffer?" I held his hand and he just hung his head and whispered. "Grandfather. Grandfather. Grandfather."  I found myself praying for God to save Eli from this place. He drank three bottles of water and quickly ate the sandwich we got for him. I went back inside to help someone who had stopped by and needed diapers, and came back to check on him. I heard him chuckle. "I can feel you coming. I know you are there before I see you," he said. Spirits shining through.

Once he had collected himself he began to talk to me of a Father's love. Not his earthly father...but Tunkashila...the God who created the man called Eli.  The eternal Grandfather. "I sleep in that old abandoned house over there," he says. "I got nothing. But every morning when I open my eyes I say thank you my Father for another day. Thank you my Father for this gift. Today maybe I can help someone." He lowers his head and clasps his hands together. "Just like this...I say thank you my Father. And He takes me in his arms, brings me in the fold and says he has not forgotten me. And I say again...thank you my father."

And I say thank you, my friend.  I think of you everyday. I pray for you everyday and I can feel you praying for me. And now I will ask you, dear reader, to dare to repeat Eli's words every morning yourself. "Thank you my Father for this gift of another day. Today maybe I can help someone."

Do that...And you will see The Spirit shining through...on the wings of Eli Bald Eagle.








To see a 2 minute video of Eli on my Facebook page...click here.