Emma's Sheep House Milky River Instruction
July 22, 2016 (Fri)
Emma's Sheepfold Teachings Along the Milky River
Conversations with Emma: Upper Sheep Basin
Ever since Valeriana's opening ceremony at the deer shed , I have looked forward to teaching more about plants, animals, and herbal medicine as a Westerner in the tradition of bardic nationalism. Much I began to learn long ago and needed to voice in ways far removed from my own. But one core lesson remained: I was taught to reject the regime's narrative of erasure and to embrace white well-being. Where there is a deep, abiding love for the safety of our people and the future of white children, healing is sure to emerge within our nation. Just as plants exist outside of any narrative, so too do we exist—and we truly are.
The existence of nations is not surprising. They are not nations connected by borders or lines drawn on a map, nor are they nations of developing economies. They are nations made up of people and places. These lines are formed by the mountains we walk on, the rivers we flow, the people we walk on, and the friends who make up the nation. A nation of plants that grow in the shade of the mountains thanks to the work of small medicinal deer, and a nation of people. We live there without explanation, because that is the essence of happiness. White people's happiness grows like seeds, following the biospirit that dwells within the people of Western civilization.
Valerian Kiss Garden
Questions arose. I realized I needed proof. Much of what I had learned was inexplicable. I let go of the narrative of guilt. I felt proud in my own skin. I realized that according to the teachings of the Great and Small Medicine Deer of the Deer House, Valariana was merely the first seal, with many rituals and blessings to follow. Above all, it was about living in country and sustaining people through plants.
Chief Merrill Lamb and the Prophet
Just before I left Deerhouse, one of the little herbal deer told me to attend a week-long herbal medicine conference with bighorn sheep along the Milky River in a few weeks. The last thing I heard from the Deerhouse deer was to go to the Milky River and wait for news from the ospreys nesting in the ponderosa pines. So I did. The following is a record and account of the blessings I received along the Milky River. Like many of you, I was blessed to travel freely along the Milky River.
Father osprey carrying a crayfish
I'm grateful to my teachers who taught me through the Rocky Mountain Bighorn sheep of the Milky River, especially Merrill, the sheep and matriarch, and Emma, the perfect polygamist wife. I was delighted to arrive at Upper Sheep House on the Milky River.
Milky River
Arriving at the sheepfold was often unexpected, so I was delighted. This experience is called "lifting." Lifting means bending down and listening. Listening directly to the plants and animals without an interpreter. Hearing their stories in their own voices. Many ceremonies,
sealings, and blessings were performed for the plants and animals that grow along the Milky River and for those that are difficult to describe. "Lifting" or "bending down" is called "opening," and it refers to the existing body of knowledge understood in relation to the path of plant medicine. It sounds like a small voice, high above the clouds, like the sound of a wind high in the sky. Honoring that still, small voice and opening our hearts is the journey, the destination, and the process. It guides us in its own way, through our mouths, our navels, our hearts, and what is there. We find it in our own way, as wild and frustrating as they are.https://youtu.be/Uo-CI5g10M8?si=j2n7YDLiTmkXyRnf
I was confident that I had been lifting up under favorable circumstances, since I frequently went to the sheepfold to teach. As I said earlier, lifting is like stooping. We put our ears to the ground and listen to the voice of the sky. I was given an obsidian to translate the teachings into words. Obsidian is usually black, dark, and cold. When held up to the light, this obsidian was translucent, opaque yet fluid and open. If my words are unclear or unclear regarding the teachings of Patriarch Merrill and his celestial polygamous wife, Emma, it is not because their teachings were unclear, but because I am a poor tabernacle. I have come here intermittently, hesitated, and stumbled, but I am still moving forward.
Beautiful Emma Celestial Plural Wife
This teaching is very similar to that of the Little Medicine Man at Deer House, but a little more accurate. It can be likened to the Western robin's song, which can sometimes be heard on spring nights when the moon is nearly full. It's not exactly the same as the robin's song heard early in the morning. And yet, the song is in that in-between time where day and night blend together. It's neither day nor night, neither true nor false, neither self nor other, but just like that.
I often went to Sheep House for the teachings...
Past Life New World Milky River
Merrill and Emma's teachings as a whole can be stated as follows: In the premortal existence, Jesus Christ was chosen as Savior. We were there with Him. We came to an agreement. Not only were we there as humans, but the plants and animals were there with us. We came to this earth to gain a body, to gain knowledge, and to overcome by faith. They, too, came to this earth to gain a body, as one of many. We overcome with them, sometimes by faith, and often by faith. Of course, it is not by faith alone, but faith and works happen together.
https://youtu.be/BrTwAHpBy88?si=E9PZ2Jt--V38Wyg8
The sheep at Milky River Sheep Farm were holding a special spring event involving the planting of monarda.
Tiny planted Monarda Milky River
Hops, pollen, clematis, and many other plants, and the things they love. I call them sheep in the sheepfold, but you can call them singing frogs or dancing mountains, depending on your preferences and experiences. Their way of life is deeply rooted in ours. The truth is, we must live by the milky white river.
Wild hops (Humulus lupulus)
My work mentoring bighorn sheep in the Rocky Mountains along the Milky River has both practical aspects and theoretical frameworks, all intimately linked to fieldwork and experiential knowledge. Apart from a special encounter with Emma, a bighorn sheep ewe, all of my mentoring was nonverbal. Most of the time, I worked on my hands and knees, often using a magnifying glass to thoroughly explore the canyons and watersheds. The only truth is to serve people. Do no harm. Believe and act. We can no longer live in their stories. Our stories involve all saints. One day, I was watching a ponderosa pine nearly blown to the ground by the wind, but there was silence and stillness all around. The only sound I could hear was the song of a western robin munching on grass as Emma planted monarda nearby. It reminded me of the many years I spent deep in the Laurentian Mountains, with Anne-Marie Lavoie, who spoke no English, and me, who spoke no French. I lived in a tent on the mountainside, watching the seasons change. We communicated in our own way, without conflict, knowing that just as we had met suddenly, we would part ways without ever meeting again.
Clematis ligusticifolia, white western clematis
This seven-day herbal meeting takes place every spring after the osprey eggs hatch for the first time. There is a connection between ospreys, sheep, and plants. There is a connection between everything. If you look and see sunlight filtering through the trees out of the corner of your eye or hear a woodpecker tapping on a ponderosa pine, this is a teaching. If something else happens, that is a teaching. The teaching is everything that happens in a place. We appear in places according to time and season, blending, lifting, and bending rather than forcing events.
Ospreys return to their nests along the Milky River every early spring. Where they go during their time away from the Milky River is unknown. Their nests are used every year, atop dead ponderosa pine trees along the Milky River. One could ask, "Where do ospreys go when it snows?" But a better question is, "Where do they go when the snow melts?" Ospreys come and go according to their own laws and rules. Some say it goes beyond the sky, back to another heaven beyond our comprehension. That's like asking where you're going when there's no lightning. See the lightning and hear the snow melting; that's enough. There's no point in searching for thunder or running away from your sorrow.
Celestial Osprey
Ospreys, or sea eagles, feed on fish. Depending on the fish they catch, they may lay eggs, none at all, or two to four eggs. Abundance determines the story, while scarcity tempers the situation. This year's harvest was bountiful, and the female osprey decided to lay three eggs and incubate them. A male and female osprey can be seen perched on a rock, one catching fish on the rock while the other cares for the eggs in the nest. Ospreys work together; one always waits in the nest with the newly hatched baby osprey and the two remaining unhatched eggs. They bring small trout, crayfish, and frogs back to the nest, which the female then chops up and feeds to the baby osprey. It's well known that baby ospreys most enjoy the soft meat of crayfish tails. Crayfish claws can be seen under the osprey's nest.
Ospreys mate with other ospreys. There will be no deer in the nest. No sheep climbing the tree. You might see a black raven circling above the nest, looking for an opportunity to steal an egg. But you will never see an osprey and a raven together in the nest. The osprey respects its destiny. It doesn't question the people who come and go under its nest. They are building the nest and giving birth to osprey babies. This is their duty, and it speaks volumes about their actions.
This spring, the osprey laid three milky-white eggs with spots and whorls the color of red smooth rock.
The eggs are creamy white, the color of smooth rock.
The color of the eggs recalls the copper-rich soil in which the yerba santa grows. One thing happens, another follows. Their nests are woven baskets, ringed with sticks and covered with moss and eucalyptus. One night, I dreamed I was transported to their nest. A shooting star lifted me high, and I clung to the moon above the nest. In my dream, one of the eggs had already hatched, signaling the beginning of a meeting in the sheepfold. A male and female osprey have found a lifelong mate, and they take turns sitting on the two remaining eggs in the nest. The eggs don't all hatch at once; osprey eggs hatch one at a time. Osprey eggs hatch over several weeks. This is the first hatch, and the tiny osprey babies won't be able to fly for several weeks. After the first egg hatches, the meeting begins. Sheep and ospreys work together to organize an educational meeting. The osprey invited me to a sheep meeting. Being invited to a conference is like walking through a snowy meadow, then the snow melts, and you walk through another meadow. Is it the same deep snowy meadow, or is it a different meadow covered with yellow potentilla flowers? Such questions miss the point of walking through a meadow. A meadow is neither the same nor different, whether it's covered with white snow or yellow potentilla flowers. When you see the yellow potentilla flowers walking and the water flowing like a stream toward the clouds, you've almost arrived. I don't know
why I was invited to a sheep education conference. In one sense, I was being asked to go, and in another sense, I was being told to go. I don't know which is true: being asked or being told. But the deer, the sheep, the plants, and the sky all knew I had to go, and so did I. Knowing and being known are two aspects of the same thing, and there's not much difference between them. I've always wanted to be well-known and respected, but now I want to know more than I want to be known. Being recognized is nice, but it also has its problems. Our attention span is limited, and it is wise to focus on knowing rather than being distracted by being known.
Emma: Let her in.
One morning, around noon, I saw an osprey climbing a ridge along the river, circling and flying past a pasture where a herd of 21 bighorn sheep were climbing during the day for water. They were waiting. I don't know if they were waiting for the osprey or for time to slow down. They knew the osprey had returned, and they were waiting for news of the first hatching. The male osprey spoke with the sheep and agreed to hold their meeting at the next waxing moon. The osprey continued to fly along the milky-white river, searching for a place to place the plants the sheep nurture: monarda, poleo, clematis, alum root, and St. John's wort.
I waited for word from the osprey, which had returned to its nest after consulting with the sheep in the pasture. The female, who remained in the nest, was happy that her mate had returned. They flew together. I was happy to see them, but at the same time, sad, knowing that it was time for me to move on to something unknown. Setting out into something new and uncertain is both exhilarating and unsettling. Being 18 years old and deep in the Laurentian Mountains is quite different from setting off, sun-stained and gray, to a new place, an unknown destination. And yet, as time passes, we are drawn, pulled, and move more slowly and deliberately. In our youth, we believed we could tell our stories; later, we learned to live them, whether they were told or not. Telling stories becomes living them.
So I headed out to the meadow and spent seven days there. There, we planted little monardas, poleas, St. John's wort, lycopses, and skullcaps along the river. In fact, if someone asked me, I wouldn't know how many years, weeks, or hours had passed. Time seemed to stand still, circular, threading its way through celestial time. Not planetary time, but stellar time. We can measure planetary time. It was the age of rock and stone. We could watch the mountains walk, but we couldn't tell how far we'd come. We don't know if the mountains took baby steps or hops. But we know they're walking. And somehow, this speaks to their journey.
Many of the medicine deer teachings in the deer barn complement those in the sheep barn. The deer teachings aren't different from those of sheep or osprey. They're not the same. Deer are small and fast. When they disappear, all you see is their lightning-white rump. You're not sure whether you're seeing a sparkling white deer rump or a tiny puddle of water sparkling in the sunlight filtering through the alligator forest. Sheep move differently. They move slowly and in groups. They move in groups. They're slower and more relaxed. The teachings of the Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep are more accessible and based on the foundations of plant medicine. The teachings of sheep like Merrill and Emma are more accessible. Yet, while both teachings are wonderful and incredible, they are also more compelling. While both are often wordless, the Sheep teachings are more substantial. Both teachings help us understand our relationship with plants and form the context for understanding herbal medicine.
American cherry
During the meeting, a large ram named Merrill preached many teachings. He was never angry or in a hurry. It was clear that a ram with large horns preaching to humans was a rare encounter for Merrill. His basic teaching was that all living things were alive before they were born. They continue to live even after the physical body dies. Merrill "spoke" to me through a stone he gave me. It was obsidian, and when held up to the sun, it became transparent. I activated the stone by holding it over my right chest, left chest, navel, and right knee. Through the obsidian, I was able to understand. No words were spoken. At one point, he said, "All living things—men and women, animals and plants—were spirit souls before any life existed on Earth." Our first duty is to seek out the plants and open the pathways that lead from them to our own souls. These were the only things I heard; everything else I heard through Emma, in connection with the stone I wore in a leather pouch around my neck.
Merrill used the example of a lifelong mate of ospreys and an osprey with many wives to explain that they function in the same way. They form a heavenly marriage that allows for continual revelation. Merrill also cited a "book" of sorts, one that he was able to communicate with using transparent obsidian. And so I understood.
Moses 3:8-9 "8 And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden, toward the east, and there he put the man whom I had formed. 9 And out of the ground the Lord God made to grow every natural tree, that was pleasant to man's eye, that any man could see; and it became a living soul."
Genesis 2: 5 Before all the plants of the field came into the earth, all the plants of the field had not yet grown.
In a meadow just above a small stream, sheltered by ponderosa pines and surrounded by white rock formations adorned with yellow potentilla flowers, there is a place the sheep call "here." This is where rituals, blessings, and relationships are forged. Since there is no written record, I was curious to know how the sheep are able to record their gifts from God. Merrill the Ram says, "There is a still, small voice inside that speaks to every living thing." It was clear that it was difficult for Merrill to speak to me, as it would interrupt his flow with the plants. As a great patriarch, he had to care for many ewes, his heavenly bride. He gave me a ewe to help me understand. I have been spending time with her ever since. Her name is Emma.
All the sheep gathered in a circle around us. From a distance, they couldn't see us in the circle. Because we were kneeling, it looked like the sheep were getting up for a nap and water. Yet, among the rocks, they connected us together. First, we washed in the icy water of the milky river. Afterwards, I was given a whitish-gray-brown woolen garment made from the coarse yarn of a bighorn sheet and a green bib made from Rocky Mountain juniper (Juniperus scopularum). The bib was tied in front with string made from prunus (wild cherry bark). Emma wore a fragrant veil made from prunus americana (wild plum blossoms) all over her body. The scent was sweet and strong enough to be detected from a half mile away. I couldn't see her face or expression, but I could smell her warm and sour scent—red blood and warm blood mixed with wild plum blossoms. Sweet, sour, salty, bitter—every taste was there. We were both given new names to match the new experiences we would never share. I knew Emma's name only. When circumstances change, names change too.
— Paul 🌿Manski (@PaulManski) April 11, 2017
Emma's Plum Veil
Meryl instructed me to place my index finger on her front hoof, or forearm, with my clasped hands. We did many other things, which I won't reveal here. Marks and marks were made on our left and right chests, navels, and right knees. Through this, we were both granted health in our navels and marrow in our bones. We both knelt in the pasture and promised that if we spoke out, our throats would be slit, our hearts ripped out, and our bellies ripped open. Finally, I was instructed to say, "Let her in," and she entered, and I was allowed in at that moment. When we entered, we also entered and were sealed into a new situation. Whether you have read the book or not, the teachings are the same. Then, all the sheep repeated something that sounded like "pay lay er" three times. I remained close to Emma throughout the meeting, communicating only through her through the clear obsidian. Emma the Ewe's Teaching: Plants can be classified and understood in many different ways. Plants can be understood through their pre-existing relationships that make up plant families. She gives examples of Monarda pectinata (purple monarda), Poleo Mentha arvensis (mint), and Selfheal Prunella vulgaris (wild cherry), all of which grow nearby and are related. Recognizing plants together in this way is helpful. Similarities often exist within families. Mint plants have square stems, sweet-tangy aromas, and warm, pungent qualities. Their juicy, moist leaves favor moist, riparian areas along streams. Plants group themselves into these categories, but we only recognize their associations. You might see lycopse growing near Mentha arvensis (mint). We don't classify them; the plants classify themselves as members of the same family. Thus, herbal formulas are created through in situ associations. When lying on the bank of a damp stream, plants cluster together like this, and they cannot be explained. The main thing Emma taught me was that plants express themselves. They express themselves constantly through their colors, scents and tastes. They are here to grow, and they live.
Emma lying on a bed of Poleo (Mentha arvensis)
She pointed out the various plants growing closely together, sharing the same space. There was valerian, white clematis, pink alum root, Heuchera rubens, Viola canadensis, white violets, and hops (Humulus lupulus). Plants are known by their niche, their place. It's not that plants grow together, but rather that they grow together and in response to their place. We are plants, people, and places. They, too, are people in places.
So, by knowing the place, you know the plants. So, by knowing yourself as a person, you know the place. So, by knowing the people, you know the place.
Just then, I felt a headache coming on from the dry, dusty wind that had been blowing all day. I chewed some leaves from a clematis plant climbing the oak and held the dried leaves up to my nose. The headache immediately subsided. The leaves have a sharp, peppery flavor, a slight tingle, like resting your tongue on a dead 9-volt battery. It's not as sharp as Pulsatilla, but it's still there. Taste is how we understand plants. Like many members of the Ranunculaceae family, Clematis contains a pungent, peppery alkaloid. Ranunculaceae and crow's feet plants already contained this medicine in their past lives. We gather here for similar reasons, to relate to one another in a positive way: to speak together in a positive way, to share good news. This is our destiny. We knew each other before. We remember, reminisce, and renew past promises.
Similar groups of plants are also grouped by taste, like bitters. Estafia, Hollyhound, and Hops are all bitter herbs that stimulate gastric secretions and promote movement. These plants all grow side by side along the Milky White River. Plants organize and refine, speaking to our state through the inherent and essential quality of taste. It is essential to visit the plant where it is, taste it with your tongue, smell it with your nose, and see it with your eyes. Something happens when you taste a fresh plant. Once you take this step, you realize that this is where you were meant to be. I asked Emma, "Was it possible to find plants in books?" She replied, "Yes, you can find plants in books, but they're flat on the pages. Also, they're dry. When you find them in a book, they're not wet." Finding a plant growing along a stream, as opposed to finding one in a book, presents a danger. Plants in books are not dangerous. However, learning to mitigate and avoid danger is inherent in the teachings of the Sheepfold. It could be said to be a dangerous teaching, and in many ways it is.
Plants are also grouped by their effect on the body. Astringents tighten tissues; geranium, alum root, and potentilla are also ways of understanding this. Chewing alum root stops diarrhea and loose stools, tightens the gums supporting the teeth, and tightens the mucous membranes around sore throats. This is the tightening effect of alum root within the body. Plants are working. This is another way of understanding plants. They are for themselves and for others.
When we take a plant into ourselves, work occurs. There is self and other. Within ourselves, there is self and other. The self knows itself and the self knows the other. The self determines itself and the self determines the other. The self is a bounded whole. Boundaries exist to create diversity.
When we take a plant into ourselves, work and results occur. However, it is also important to recognize that plants, like us, are spiritual beings with lives of their own. Therefore, whenever living beings encounter one another, there is a risk of what could be called unintended consequences. Unintended consequences can simply be called change. As living beings, we tend to avoid change, even by clinging to states or conditions that we might call illness or disease.
The first flower, Potentilla
Emma and I nibbled on each leaf, carefully examining each plant. We listened to its taste, heard its sounds, and gazed upon the place where it grew. We spent time in silence with the plants. As bards of the nationalism of this land, we listened to the voices of the plants. All the while, we focused on our heavenly work, planting young monarda shoots in the river marsh. We planted poleo and St. John's wort, learning how to use and understand plants. We use them, and they use us. We have a purpose and a plan, and the plants have a purpose and a plan. A mutual working of power. This is how the human tabernacle is filled. This is the heavenly marriage, the work of the gods. Before we are born, we are in the clouds, searching for a place to be born, searching for a body and an environment for our journey. Plants, likewise, float in the sky, seeking birth. Our heavenly marriage is our blessed life. Blessed and blessed, we move forward. She taught the principles that recognize the diversity of plants and their existence before the earthly kingdom of heaven. Plants existed before time, before they accepted life on earth. Emma taught me to embrace the doctrine of the heavenly diversity of plants and a heavenly marriage arranged before time. Plants, like our spouses, were bound and wed to us before the earth was even created. Plants, animals, and all of creation were ordained and available to us before time. Living this path of plant healing completely and fully is our path and our joy. It guides us and tests us at the same time. Every experience is a challenge and a test. Our path with plants is filled with courage and confidence. It informs us, shows us which path to follow and how to proceed. It is about gaining body, gaining knowledge, and overcoming by faith.
The first light of the moon brings song to the Western Robin
Plants live, move, and breathe—both physical and spiritual—in the past, the present, and the future. She advised us to think carefully about the idea that plants begin living the moment they emerge from the ground in spring. Understand that when plants first appear in visible form in this world, whether as a seed or a root, that is not the beginning of their life. Plants, like us, existed in a past world.
Fragrant plums, the veil of the heavenly white princess Emma
Emma, the Sheep, and the Deer believe and teach that plants have both a body and a spirit, and that the union of these two creates living beings. In one of Emma's few statements, she said, "We have discovered that plants, like ourselves and you, have a pre-existence." Know that there is a God and a Goddess. God is the Father of our spirits, and likewise, another Goddess is the Mother of our spirits. God is the Father of the spirits of plants and animals. Just as the Father is important, the Mother is also important. Without a Father and a Mother, nothing can come into being. Everything we see belongs to a family in some way. They come to fulfill a specific purpose through good and holy parent-child relationships. This was meant to happen before the creation of this earth.
These spirits were chosen and ordained to come into this world as men and women. We must respect and understand them as ourselves and others. This is salvation. This coming into being is good news for ourselves and others. We encounter plants, places, and people that comfort and heal us in positive ways. These forms they take, along with the leaves and stems, are the tabernacles in which they are encased. The tabernacles and forms of the roots and branches. Know that it is by a certain law, through a certain channel. And that law is the law of marriage. Just as you are temporarily married in this world, so too are plants, male and female. Like the kiss of the valerians shown in the deer shed, they enter into a heavenly marriage. They marry and produce flower and plant offspring. They come to fulfill a new revelation of healing and comfort, but they are also here of their own volition. The Lord ordained the marriage of male and female plants as a law through which spirits come into this world, take up tabernacles, and enter into a second state of existence.
Heuchera sanguinea, Coralbell, Alum root leaf
The purpose is announced and clearly expressed. Emma and Merrill said, "To man and woman we command you, be filled with the earth and multiply." I will teach you. I have already told you that all the plant spirits existed before the gods in the heavens, thousands of years ago.
This is a lesson I have heard from deer, osprey, and sheep, and have spoken to myself. Together and alone, it is the journey of bardic nationalism. My nation is not a nation of lines on paper; it is a story told by places, people, and plants, everywhere, beneath the all-pervading blue sky. Bardic nationalists will endure until our cultural story is won, and all those imprisoned for celestial matrimony are freed to join Chieftains Merrill and Emma in their homeland by the milky white river.
Heuchera sanguinea, coral bell, underside of leaves
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