Being Indian Is Not Blood As Much

Everything Is Connected. The Wing Of The Corn Beetle Affects The Direction Of The Wind, The Way The Sand Drifts, The Way The Light Reflects Into The Eye Of Man Beholding His Reality. All Is Part Of Totality, And In This Totality Man Finds His Hozro, His Way Of Walking In Harmony, With Beauty All Around Him.

From Where We Stand The Rain Seems Random. If We Could Stand Somewhere Else, We Would See The Order In It.

I Know What I Write About Seems Exotic To A Lot Of People, But Not For Me. I Pulled Up To An Old Trading Post And Saw A Few Elderly Navajos Sitting On A Bench. I Felt Right At Home.

An Author Knows His Landscape Best; He Can Stand Around, Smell The Wind, Get A Feel For His Place.

I Always Try To Make The Setting Fit The Story I Have In Mind.