Our education begins in our mother's womb. Her attitude and secret meditations are such as to instill into the receptive soul of the unborn child the love of the Great Mystery and a sense of kinship with all creation.

     A pregnant Indian woman often chooses on of the great individuals of her family and tribe as a model for her child. This hero is daily called ti mind. She gathers from tradition all of his noted deeds and daring exploits, and rehearses them to herself when alone. In order that the impression might be more didtinct, she avoids company. She isolates ferself as much as possible, and wanders prayerful in the stillness of the great woods, or on the bosom of the untrodden prairie, not thoughtlessly, but with an eye to the impressions received from the grand and beautiful scenery.

     To her poetic mind the imminent birth of her child prefigures the advent of a great spirit - a hero, or the mother of heroes - a thought conceived in the virgin breast of primeaval nature, and  dreamed out in a hush broken only by the sighing of the pine tree or the thrilling orchestra of a distant waterfall.

     And when the day of her days in her dawns - the day in which there is to be new life, the miracle of whose making has been entrusted to her - she seeks no human aid. She has been trained and prepared in body and mind for this, her holiest duty, ever since she can remember.

     she meets the ordeal of childbirth alone, where no curious or pitying eyes might embarrass her; where all nature says to her spirit: "It is love! It is love! The fulfilling of life!"

     When at last, a sacred voice comes to her out of the silence, and a pair of eyes open upon her in the wilderness, she knows with joy that she has borne well her part in the great song of creation!

     Presently she returns to the camp, carrying the mysterious, the holy, the dearest bundle! She feels the endearing warmth of it and hears its soft breathing. It is still a part of herself, since both are nourished by the same mouthfuls, and no look of a lover could be sweeter than its deep and trusting gaze.

 

 

 

 

     The Indian mother has not only the experience of her mother and grandmother, and the accepted rules of her people for a guide, but she humbly seeks to learn a lesson from ants, bees, spiders, beavers, and badgers. She studies the family life of the birds, so exquisite in its emotional intensity and its patient devotion, until she seems to feel the universal mother-heart beating in her own breast.

     She continues her spiritual teaching, at first silently - a mere pointing of the index finger to nature - then in whispered songs, bird-like, at morning and evening. To her and to the child the birds are real people, who live very close to the Great Mystery. The murmuring trees breathe its presence; falling waters chant its praise.

     If the child should chance to be fretful, the mother raises her hand. "Hush! Hush!" she cautions it tenderly, "The spirits may be disturbed!" She bids it be still and listen - listen to the silver voice of the aspen, or the clashing cymbals of the birch; and at night she points to the heavenly blazed trail through nature's galaxy of splendor to nature's God. Silence, love, revernce - this is the trinity of the first lessons, and to these she later adds generosity, courage, and chasity.

     In due time children take of their own accord the attitude of prayer, and speak revently of the Powers.

     They feel that all living creatures are blood brothers and sisters; the storm wind is to them a messenger of the Great Mystery.