The Four Worlds International Institute


Men's Lodge

A place where the men can gather and have relaxing conversations, learning, teaching and laughter. We need this space, so welcome. May you walk in beauty White-Bear Apache Elder

Location: everywhere upon Mother Earth
Members: 77
Latest Activity: Oct 27, 2019

Discussion Forum

It's quite in the men's lodge? 5 Replies

I am new over here. I met Brother Phil some weeks ago in Lothlorien and found myself suddenly being the Fire Keeper in his Pipe Sharing Ceremony; my Soul being very happy and me being very humble…Continue

Started by Gerard Franciscus Remmerswaal. Last reply by Paul Tobin-Coyote Song Sep 18, 2016.

How to live in harmony with all beings and the earth itself 19 Replies

I would love to hear what other men are feeling in these times of great change. What are you doing to abide in the spiritual reality that exists above and beyond, yet coincident with this place. …Continue

Started by John Bent. Last reply by Tim Barrett Sep 2, 2014.

Getting Involved 3 Replies

Okay, this one got to me. I signed the petition. Can we make a difference? Not if We just sit and do nothing. Come on guys, go for it! This one needs Us.…Continue

Started by John Francis. Last reply by Tim Barrett Sep 2, 2014.


Knowledge minus Action equals ZeroKnowlegdg - Action = 0Continue

Started by Bernie Robinson Feb 24, 2013.

Comment Wall


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Comment by White-Bear on June 29, 2011 at 9:08am
This reforestation that you talk of is of the utmost importance. As was told to me in a dream I had many years ago, "when the change to Mother Earth happens, it is time for the Elders and the children to go to the mountains to live for the survival of the people.
Comment by waldenthree coordinator on June 29, 2011 at 4:52am


Discussion: this is wonderful to know, a "bridge to past" .  But we need to go beyond past, and live in the present, prepare for the future. You  & other members of the "Men's Lodge" have received my pre-proposal template intro on "Forestry Jobs" by a focus on "Reforestation as an pragmatic passion" suitable for the Red Path.  How about comments and response on something we can do now, to put  "food on the table" and prepare our children for tomorrow ?  Your comment most welcome on "Reforestation Now !" as "pragmatic passion".

Comment by John Francis on June 28, 2011 at 8:42pm

by George Catlin
(First published in London in 1844)
LETTER--No. 16.
Besides chiefs, and braves and doctors, of whom I have heretofore spoken, there is yet another character -of whom I must say a few words before I proceed to other topics. The person I allude to, is the one mentioned at the close of my last Letter, and familiarly known and countenanced in every tribe as an Indian beau or dandy. Such personages may be seen on every pleasant day, strutting and parading around the village in the most beautiful and unsoiled dresses, without the honorable trophies however of scalp locks and claws of the grizzly bear, attached to their costume, for with such things they deal not. They are not peculiarly anxious to hazard their lives in equal and honorable combat with the one, or disposed to cross the path of the other; but generally remain about the village, to take care of the women, and attire themselves in the skins of such animals as they can easily kill, without seeking the rugged cliffs for the war-eagle, or visiting the haunts of the grizzly bear. They plume themselves with swan's-down and quills of ducks, with braids and plaits of sweet-scented grass and other harmless and unmeaning ornaments, which have no other merit than they themselves have, that of looking pretty and ornamental.
These clean and elegant gentlemen, who are very few in each tribe, are held in very little estimation by the chiefs and braves; inasmuch as it is known by all, that they have a most horrible aversion to arms, and are denominated " faint hearts" or "old women" by the whole tribe, and are therefore but little respected. They seem, however, to be tolerably well contented with the appellation, together with the celebrity they have acquired amongst the women and children for the beauty and elegance of their personal appearance; and most of them seem to take and enjoy their share of the world's pleasures, although they are looked upon as drones in society.
These gay and tinselled bucks may be seen in a pleasant day in all their plumes, astride of their pied or dappled ponies, with a fan in the right hand, made of a turkey's tail -- with whip and a fly-brush attached to the wrist of the same hand, and underneath them a white and beautiful and soft pleasure saddle, ornamented with porcupine quills and ermine, parading through and lounging about the village for an hour or so, when they will cautiously bend their course to the suburbs of the town, where they will sit or recline upon their horses for an hour or two, overlooking the beautiful games where the braves and the young aspirants are contending in manly and athletic amusements;-when they are fatigued with this severe effort, they wend their way hack again, lift off their fine white saddle of doe's-skin, which is wadded with buffalo's hair, turn out their pony -- take a little refreshment, smoke a pipe, fan themselves to sleep, and doze away the rest of the day.
Whilst I have been painting, from day to day, there have been two or three of these fops continually strutting and taking their attitudes in front of my door; decked out in all their finery, without receiving other benefit or other information, than such as they could discover through the cracks and seams of my cabin. The chiefs, I observed, passed them by without notice, and of course, without inviting them in; and they seemed to figure about my door from day to day in their best dresses and best attitudes, as if in hopes that I would select them as models, for my canvass. It was natural that I should do so, for their costume and personal appearance was entirely more beautiful than anything else to be seen in the village. My plans were laid, and one day when I had got through with all of the head men, who were willing to sit to he painted, and there were two or three of the chiefs lounging in my room, I stepped to the door and tapped one of these fellows on the shoulder, who took the hint, and stepped in, well-pleased and delighted with the signal and honorable notice I had at length taken of him and his beautiful dress. Readers, you cannot imagine what was the expression of gratitude which beamed forth in this poor fellow's face, and how high his heart beat with joy and pride at the idea of my selecting him to be immortal, alongside of the chiefs and worthies whose portraits he saw arranged around the room; and by which honor he, undoubtedly, considered himself well paid for two or three weeks of regular painting, and pleasing, and dressing, and standing alternately on one leg and the other at the door of my premises.
Well, I placed him before me, and a canvass on my easel, and "chalked him out" at full length. He was truly a beautiful subject for the brush, and I was tilled with enthusiasm -- his dress from head to foot was of the skins of the mountain-goat, and dressed so neatly, that they were almost as soft and; as white as Canton crape -- around the bottom and the sides it was trimmed with ermine, and porcupine quills of beautiful dyes garnished it in a hundred parts; -- his hair which was long, and spread over his back and shoulders, extending nearly to the ground, was all combed back and parted on his forehead like that of a woman. He was a tall and fine figure, with ease and grace in his movements, that were well worthy of a man of better caste. In his left hand he held a beautiful pipe -- and in his right hand he plied his fan, and on his wrist was still attached his whip of elk's horn, and his fly-brush, made of the buffalo's tail. There was nought about him of the terrible, and nought to shock the finest, chastest intellect.
I bad thus far progressed, with high-wrought feelings of pleasure, when the two or three chiefs, who had been seated around the lodge, and whose portraits I had before painted, arose suddenly, and wrapping themselves tightly in their robes, crossed my room with a quick and heavy step, and took an informal leave of my cabin. I was apprehensive of their displeasure, though I continued my work; and in a few moments the interpreter came furiously into my room, addressing me thus: -- "My God, Sir! this never will do; you have given great offence to the chiefs -- they have made complaint of your conduct to me -- they tell me this is a worthless fellow -- a man of no account in the nation, and if you paint his picture, you must instantly destroy theirs; you have no alternative, my dear Sir -- and the Quicker this chap is out of your lodge the better."
The same matter was explained to my sitter by the interpreter, when he picked up his robe, wrapped himself in it, plied his fan nimbly about his face, and walked out of the lodge in silence, but with quite a consequential smile, taking his old position in front of the door for awhile, after which he drew himself quietly off without further exhibition. So highly do Mandan braves and worthies value the honor of being painted; and so little do they value a man, however lavishly Nature may have bestowed her master touches upon him, who has not the pride and noble bearing of a warrior.
I spoke in a former Letter of Mah-to-toh-pa (the four bears), the second chief of the nation, and the most popular man of the Mandans -- a high-minded and gallant warrior, as well as a polite and polished gentleman. Since I painted his portrait, as I before described, I have received at his hands many marked and signal attentions; some of which I must name to you, as the very relation of them will put you in possession of many little forms and modes of Indian life, that otherwise might not have been noted.
About a week since, this noble fellow stepped into my painting-room about twelve o'clock in the day, in full and splendid dress, and passing his arm through mine, pointed the way, and led me in the most gentlemanly manner, through the village and into his own lodge, where a feast was prepared in a careful manner and waiting our arrival. The lodge in which he dwelt was a room of immense size, some forty or fifty feet in diameter, in a circular form, and about twenty feet high -- with a sunken curb of stone in the center, of five or six feet in diameter and one foot deep, which contained the fire over which the pot was boiling. I was led near the edge of this curb, and seated on a very handsome robe, most ingeniously garnished and painted with hieroglyphics; and he seated himself gracefully on another one at a little distance from me; with the feast prepared in several dishes, resting on a beautiful rush mat, which was placed between us.
The simple feast which was spread before us consisted of three dishes only, two of which were served in wooden bowls, and the third in an earthen vessel of their own manufacture, somewhat in shape of a bread-tray in our own country. This last contained a quantity of pem-I-can and marrow fat; and one of the former held a fine brace of buffalo ribs, delightfully roasted; and the other was filled with a kind of paste or pudding, made of the flour of the "pomme hlanche", as the French call it, a delicious turnip of the prairie, finely flavored with the buffalo berries, which are collected in great quantities in this country, and used with divers dishes in cooking, as we in civilized countries use dried currants, which they very much resemble.
A handsome pipe and a tobacco-pouch made of the otter skin, filled with k'nick-k'neck (Indian tobacco), laid by the side of the feast; and when we were seated, mine host took up his pipe, and deliberately filled it; and instead of lighting it by the fire, which he could easily have done, he drew from his pouch his flint and steel, and raised a spark with which he kindled it. He drew a few strong whiffs through it, and presented the stem of it to my mouth, through which I drew a whiff or two while he held the stem in his hands. This done, he laid down the pipe, and drawing his knife from his belt, cut off a very small piece of the meat from the ribs, and pronouncing the words "Ho-pe-ne-chee wa-pa-shee" (meaning a medicine sacrifice), threw it into the fire.
He then (by signals) requested me to eat, and I commenced, after drawing out from my belt my knife (which it is supposed that every man in this country carries about him, for at an Indian feast a knife is never offered to a guest). Reader, be not astonished that I sat and ate my dinner alone, for such is the custom of this strange land. In all tribes in these western regions it is an invariable rule that a chief never eats with his guests invited to a feast; but while they eat, he sits by, at their service, and ready to wait upon them; deliberately charging and lighting the pipe which is to be passed around after the Feast is over. Such was the case in the present instance, and while I was eating, Mah-to-toh-pa sat cross-legged before me, cleaning his pipe and preparing it for a cheerful smoke when I had finished my meal. For this ceremony I observed he was making unusual preparation, and I observed as I ate, that after he had taken enough of the k'nick-k'neck or bark of the red willow, from his pouch, he rolled out of it also a piece of the "castor," which it is customary amongst these folks to carry in their tobacco-sack to give it a flavor; and, shaving off a small quantity of it, mixed it with the bark, with which he charged his pipe. This done, he drew also from his sack a small parcel containing a fine powder, which was made of dried buffalo dung, a little of which he spread over the top, (according also to custom,) which was like tinder, having no other effect than that of lighting the pipe with ease and satisfaction. My appetite satiated, I straightened up, and with a whiff the pipe was lit, and we enjoyed together for a quarter of an hour the most delightful exchange of good feelings, amid clouds of smoke and pantomimic signs and gesticulations.
The dish of pemican and marrow-fat, of which I spoke, was thus -- the first, an article of food used throughout this country, as familiarly as we use bread in the civilized world. It is made of buffalo meat dried very hard, and afterwards pounded in a large wooden mortar until it is made nearly as fine as sawdust, then packed in this dry state in bladders or sacks of skin. and is easily carried to any part of the world in good order. "Marrow-fat" is collected by the Indians from the buffalo bones which they break to pieces, yielding a prodigious quantity of marrow, which is boiled out and put into buffalo bladders which have been distended; and after it cools, becomes quite hard like tallow, and has the appearance, and very nearly the flavor, of the richest yellow butter. At a feast, chunks of this marrow fat are cut off and placed in a tray or bowl, with the pemican, and eaten together; which we civilized folks in these regions consider a very good substitute for (and indeed we generally so denominate it) "bread and butter." In this dish laid a spoon made of the buffalo's horn, which was black as jet, and beautifully polished; in one of the others there was another of still more ingenious and beautiful workmanship, made of the horn of the mountain-sheep, or "Gros corn", as the French trappers call them; it was large enough to hold of itself two or three pints, and was almost entirely transparent.
I spoke also of the earthen dishes or bowls in which these viands were served out; they are a familiar part of the culinary furniture of every Mandan lodge, and are manufactured by the women of this tribe in great quantities, and modeled into a thousand forms and tastes. They are made by the hands of the women, from a tough black clay, and baked in kilns which are made for the purpose, and are nearly equal in hardness to our own manufacture of pottery ; though they have not yet got the art of glazing, which would be to them most valuable secret. They make them so strong and serviceable, however, that they hang them over the fire as we do our iron pots, and boil their meat in them with perfect success. I have seen some few specimens of such manufacture, which have been dug up in Indian mounds and tombs in the southern and middle states, placed in our Eastern Museums and looked upon as a great wonder, when here this novelty is at once done away with, and the whole mystery; where women can be seen handling and using them by hundreds, and they can be seen every day in the summer also, moulding them into many fanciful forms, and passing them through the kiln where they are hardened.
Whilst sitting at this feast the wigwam was as silent as death, although we were not alone in it. This chief, like most others, had a plurality of wives, and all of them (some six or seven) were seated around the sides of the lodge, upon robes or mats placed upon the ground, and not allowed to speak, though they were it readiness to obey his orders or commands, which were uniformly given by signs-manual, and executed in the neatest and most silent manner.
When I arose to return, the pipe through which we had smoked was presented to me; and the robe on which I had sat, he gracefully raised by the corners and tendered it to me, explaining by signs that the paintings which were on it were, the representations of the battles of his life, where he had fought and killed with his own hand fourteen of his enemies; that he had been two weeks engaged in painting it for me, and that he had invited me here on this occasion to present it to me. The robe, readers, which I shall describe in a future epistle, I took upon my shoulder, and he took me by the arm and led me back to my painting-room.
Catlin's letters concerning the Mandans :
You will nothe that the actual letters are numbered differently from the numbers below, this is beacuse the original series of letters dealt with more than the Mandans tribes. we are concentrating in his work concerning the Mandan.Letter 1 below, is actually letter 10 in the entire series.[ Letter 1 ] [ Letter 2 ] [ Letter 3 ][ Letter 4 ] [ Letter 5 ] [ Letter 6 ][ Letter 7 ]
[ Letter 8 ] [ Letter 9 ][ Letter 10 ] [ Letter 11 ] [ Letter 12 ] [ Letter 13 ]
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Comment by Billy Howell-Sinnard on June 28, 2011 at 7:44pm

This men's lodge thing is tough for me. To be painfully truthful, most of my life I never felt manly. When I was a child, I would rather sit with the women in the kitchen. I lived in both worlds but felt more comfortable and safe with women. I did enjoy watching Friday night fights with my father when I was a kid. My father scared me, though, ever since that time when I wanted to play little league and he played catch with me. This little poem speaks to it:




He taught me 

life in blistering 
fast balls. 

When they 
stung, I cried. 
He laughed. 

I stared 
at the ground,
had rounded 
Still do. 

If they can't 
see my eyes, 
maybe they won't 
throw fast balls.
I hated myself for some time for my cowardice. To make myself courageous I became an alcoholic and drug user. I've been clean and sober for 21 years, but I sometimes hear that little voice in my head telling me I'm not a man, though I know what a true man is now, just haven't felt it fully in my heart.
Peace and Unity and Healing,
Comment by Tom Stiles on June 19, 2011 at 12:40pm

Thank you for the opportunity to participate with men in this Lodge.  It feels that I only recently "shook off the snow" to greet Spring and now it's time for summer to begin!


Comment by Bernhard Holtrop on June 13, 2011 at 8:50am
Hello White Bear and others,
Sharing in this lodge...White Bear, I truly appreciate your efforts to get the thing lift off. I reflected with myself, why do I feel a reluctancy to share here? Although I do feel warm intentions it is still different sharing this way than to share in a face to face contact. But again, I realize I'll get the openness which I am prepared to bring in myself... I'll give it a thought my brothers and will come back on it. And.. I am curious about your thoughts and feelings on this..
Comment by White-Bear on June 13, 2011 at 7:53am
Thank you for your words. They comfort me.
Comment by Jay Westwind Wolf Hollingsworth on June 12, 2011 at 10:53pm
I have become comfortably numb. Pink Floyd's apt description of those who have given up and no longer act for the betterment of others and of the Creation or themselves. I swore to never become so! This Summer Solstice at sunset be with me in prayer that more people come out of the haze and stand up for what is right and good in the world!
Comment by White-Bear on June 12, 2011 at 10:18am
Hello!?! anybody out there? (Pink Floyd)
Comment by Lonny Peddycord on March 3, 2011 at 10:07pm

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