“For there to be a world at all, every indigenous, original, natural thing must start singing its song, dancing its dance, moving and breathing, each according to its own nature. When any of these stops singing for being killed or destroyed, a piece of the World’s House is lost.

The wrecked landscape of our World House could sprout a renewed world, but a new language has to be found. We can’t make the old world come alive again, but from its old seed, the next layer could sprout.

This new language would have to grow from the indigenous hearts we all have hidden. We need to find gorgeous, unsellable ritual words to reanimate, remeasure, rebuild and replaster the ruined, depressed
flatness left by the hollow failure of this mechanized, orphaned culture.

For this, we need all peoples: our poets, our shamans, our dreamers, our youth, our elders, our women, our men, our ancestors, and our real old memories from before we were people.

We live in a kind of dark age, craftily lit with synthetic light, so that no one can tell how dark it has really gotten. But our exiled spirits can tell. Deep in our bones resides an ancient, singing couple who just won’t give up making their beautiful wild noise. The world won’t end if we can find them. ”

Martin Prechtel, from Secrets of the Talking Jaguar