John (Fire) Lame Deer’s essay about the 1970 occupation of Mount Rushmore highlights a monumental clash between two visions of sacred land.
This week a rotten tree fell hard in the forest. Many thousands were there to witness its undoing, but no one heard the crash. Not even the tree realized it had fallen.
I composed a song while hitchhiking to Cooke City, standing alone in the vast quiet amidst a sagebrush land empty of the summer crowds.
With a little sip of coffee and a big swig of delight I would mix you with my grounds, tell you what I’ve found as you worm your way inside my dogbeatened heart.
My preferred question for people I have just met is “What is most important to you right now?” This question turns our conversation to something you actually are interested in.
Reflections on our first encounter in Yellowstone National Park, written on a bitter cold night in Ohio more than 15 years later.
Recalling a magical day in Yellowstone National Park that changed our lives and sent us on a journey that we are still traveling forty years later.
The end of September was a quiet time in Yellowstone National Park, and beautiful beyond words. Warm days, cold nights, golden aspen mixed among the dark ridges of pine.
The start of autumn turns my sights northward, recalling those glorious days of colorful melancholy in the falls we spent in Ohio. It almost makes bearable the anticipation of winter.
The Latin word pax, most often translated as “peace,” lies at the etymological root of both “pay” and “pacify.” How do we fit the Pacific Ocean into this puzzle?
Is Elvis a religion? Students explore this and other questions, including whether Elvis really left the building, or is he still with us in ways we never imagined?
Faith has always been a troubling concept for me, something I intuitively avoid. Perhaps my uneasiness stems from the term’s multiple meanings and uses.