My unknown friend from the past, Hollow Horn Bear, is watching us from the grain of the old wooden planks. He is not judging, not being angry, just silently asking with his wise eyes: where are we going, what are we doing? It always saddens me to read about the North American Indians, but I also wonder if their fate was inevitable? What can I do today to avoid the same thing happening again, somewere else, maybe right here?
