"Colors of the Wind" and the letter from Chief Seattle that inspired it

Updated: Jun 1



On my almost-daily three mile walk I was listening to ballads from movies. Colors of the Wind, a song from the Disney film Pocahontas, coursed through my pods. I played it a second time and realized the message was potent on so many fronts related to environment and climate justice. I wondered how it came to be written. There had to be some history worthy of note for such an anthem. There was.

It was composed in 1995 by Alan Menken (music) and Stephen Schwartz (lyrics) and received the Academy Award for best song. Initial ideas for the lyrics were inspired in part by words written to President Pierce in 1855 by Chief Seattle of the Suquamish and Duwamish peoples. The authenticity of the words is debated. They are presumed to have been derived from a speech given by the chief to the first governor of the Washington Territory, Isaac Stevens. Since that time at least 86 versions of that speech have been unearthed, including the one below that found its way into our history books. Regardless, the story of the letter, and the words it contains, is consistent with story telling tradition and the animistic reverence for nature of indigenous peoples throughout history.

The Letter that inspired Schwartz:


"The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?


Every part of the earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, every humming insect. All are holy in the memory and experience of my people.


We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the dew in the meadow, the body heat of the pony, and man all belong to the same family.


The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred. Each glossy reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.


The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give the rivers the kindness that you would give any brother.


If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life that it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also received his last sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers.


Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.


This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.


One thing we know: our God is also your God. The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator.


Your destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered? The wild horses tamed? What will happen when the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills is blotted with talking wires? Where will the thicket be? Gone! Where will the eagle be? Gone! And what is to say goodbye to the swift pony and then hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival.


When the last red man has vanished with this wilderness, and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any of the spirit of my people left?


We love this earth as a newborn loves its mother's heartbeat. So, if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it, as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it. Preserve the land for all children, and love it, as God loves us.


As we are part of the land, you too are part of the land. This earth is precious to us. It is also precious to you.


One thing we know - there is only one God. No man, be he Red man or White man, can be apart. We ARE all brothers after all."


(Here is a link to the Suquamish Tribal website where you will find a wholly different letter from Chief Seattle. Legends are always messy.)

The lyrics Schwartz wrote for Colors of the Wind:

You think I'm an ignorant savage

And you've been so many places

I guess it must be so

But still I cannot see

If the savage one is me

How can there be so much that you don't know?

You don't know ...

You think you own whatever land you land on

The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim

But I know every rock and tree and creature

Has a life, has a spirit, has a name

You think the only people who are people

Are the people who look and think like you

But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger

You'll learn things you never knew you never knew

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon

Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?

Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains?

Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest

Come taste the sunsweet berries of the Earth

Come roll in all the riches all around you

And for once, never wonder what they're worth

The rainstorm and the river are my brothers

The heron and the otter are my friends

And we are all connected to each other

In a circle, in a hoop that never ends

How high will the sycamore grow?

If you cut it down, then you'll never know

And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon

For whether we are white or copper skinned

We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains

We need to paint with all the colors of the wind

You can own the Earth and still

All you'll own is Earth until

You can paint with all the colors of the wind

Now crank up Spotify, Pandora or YouTube and listen. There are many performers to choose from; Vanessa Williams, Ashanti, Tori Kelly, Judy Kuhn (original) among them. Enjoy!



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