There is a language beyond human language, an elemental language, one that arises from the land itself.

There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks. Most of the time we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough, to pay attention to the story.

It has seemed so strange to me that the larger culture, with its own absence of spirit and lack of attachment for the land, respects these very things about Indian traditions, without adopting those respected ways themselves.

We make art out of our loss.

Some people see scars, and it is wounding they remember. To me they are proof of the fact that there is healing.

tears have a purpose. they are what we carry of the ocean, and perhaps we must become the sea, give ourselves to it, if we are to be transformed.

Telling about our lives is important for those who come after as, for those who will see our experience as part of their own historical struggle.