Story Thirteen - The secret of the star

1970

Rog Red Elk and

The Secret of the Star

I first heard this story when I worked and lived briefly with Ogllala Sioux Native Americans in Wounded Knee, on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota.

One Saturday morning, when I finished my science workshop, Pat Pumpkin Seed, Rog Red Elk, and Rosie Pain-on-Hip, took me to a fascinating part of the Badlands to search for fossils. “Just for you, JP, just for you.”

All afternoon, in the scorching sun, we walked and we dug and we found the most beautiful fossils I had ever seen outside of a museum.

And, surprise, surprise, not only did we find the BEST rocks and fossils, but I I found a delightful but very lost dog that barked happily when I put him in my shoulder bag.

In the early evening we built a log fire and sat around talking about the great day that we’d had, showing each other what we’d found. The little dog stayed very close to me. We talked and talked until the sun disappeared and the moon and the stars took their places in the sky.

As we looked up at the twinkling stars, my friend, Rog Red Elk picked up a cotton wood branch off the ground, snapped it in two, then stood up, and pointed to one of the brightest stars. “Look, look up there,” he said.

Everyone stopped talking and stared at the heavens. Rosie and Pat smiled at each other. Rog turned to me and said: “Can you see that beautiful twinkling star? Up there. See it?  I just put it there.”

My eyes searched the heavenly sky until I saw the brightest, twinkling star.

“That star, that twinkling star, it’s for my son because he did well, really well, in school.”

Rog handed me a twig. “Here," he said, "break it,” he said. “Break it in the middle. Go on.” I broke the twig and looked at the ends. “Can you see the star now?” asked Rog.

Sure enough, there were the tiniest stars, one at each end of the twig. “Wow!” I said, “That’s great, Rog, just magical.” Then Rog sat down. “C’mon,” he said, “ Sit down. let me tell you the story of how those stars in the night sky are born in the earth below our feet.”

Here’s that wonderful story:

 “My ancestors” said Rog, quietly, “ believed all things come from Mother Earth. They believe that stars form in the earth and, when ready, they search for the roots of the magical cottonwood trees. When they find the roots, they bore their way inside and slowly climb up ther inside of the trunk. 

They finally come to rest in the small twigs at the end of the cottonwood branches.

Here, they wait.................until they are needed.

When the Spirit of the Night Sky decides that she needs more twinkling, beautiful stars, she calls on the Wind Spirit to shake all the cottonwood trees.

The Wind Spirit blows and blows, and, as the cottonwood twigs break off, the stars are released and race up to a special place in the Night Sky.”

  

“We break cottonwood twigs,” Rog said,

“for very special occasions and very special people.

Now, John Paull, break another twig and

send a new star, your star, to the night sky.
Dedicate it to someone special in your life.”

I did, and I dedicated one of my stars to the little dog resting near my feet. And, when I saw it twinkling, I dedicated the other to my mum and dad.

PS..........A day later, I found the little dog's owner. His star surely did look after him.