The specifics of my ancestry are uncertain at best. I know only the broad plain upon which my ancestors lived. In part, this is literally true. Part of my ancestry is Cree, from the Canadian province of Saskatchewan. Another part, which resonates most strongly within me, comes from what is called the desert southwest. The beauty of the land that includes such places as Canyon de Chelley, Monument Valley and Window Rock, brightens my very soul every time I see it.
I am a self-avowed Learnaholic. I love to learn. I always have. It's a hunger that cannot be sated, a thirst that cannot be quenched. I know, too, the source of this affliction. My Mom. Biologically she was my maternal grandmother, but I didn't know that until I was 15. She always encouraged whatever academic endeavor I tackled. That also meant that I was pursuing several different disciplines at any one time. It probably explains why I sometimes I feel a bit scattered. :)
Since learning of my indigenous heritage, I have been consumed by my thirst for knowledge of my ancestors. Not my specific lineage, for that information is unavailable to me. No, I must be content to learn about the history, the culture, the spirit of them. Today was such a day. I spent some time cruising YouTube. Part of me calls it a mistake.
Mistake is really incorrect, however. So how did that word come out at all? Because what I've learned was painful. As it has been for so many descendants of the indigenous peoples of this land, history is filled with painful stories of how early "Americans" treated those who lived here first. Today was such a day for me. I knew about The Long Walk of the Navajo. I received a bit more information. I knew about the atrocities called "Indian Schools". I learned more today.
I also learned today about "Public Law 93531" initiated by President Ford, repealed, then reinstated by President Clinton. Just the thought makes my stomach churn. My ancestral home, known today as the Navajo "Reservation", is home to atrocities perpetrated by the US Government, on behalf of Corporate Greed, much the same as it is on other "reservations" on this continent. Because the Government wants the natural resources of the land of our ancestors, they wrote their treaties and pass laws, even today, that allow the Government to shove the indigenous people aside for the benefit of The Corporation. Public Law 93531 does just this. It is a forced relocation program to get the Dine out of the way for the mining interests of one of the worst polluters on the planet.
I'm not sure if I'm angry, depressed, shocked, sad or what. All of the above? I just know it doesn't feel good. Worse yet, I feel powerless to do anything about it. At this point, I'll do the best I can think of, and that's to raise my voice with others who feel the pain of this situation.
It's hard to love and respect those who seem to have no understanding of those two words.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
September 11
For most Americans, today is a day of reflection. Many are moved to tears, remembering the horror of that morning ten years ago. Some probably feel emotions of a darker nature. Both are understandable. People around the world are remembering, too. The impact is different depending on where they are and, perhaps, where they were.
Today in Fresno is a gray, cloudy day, with the possibility of thunderstorms. Usually, a summer day here starts out on the cool side, with comfortably low humidity. Today started a little warmer and a bit on the sticky side. The weather could easily contribute to a darker mood, but I welcome the change. It will still get hot this afternoon, but the morning feels somehow quieter through the open windows.
There are ducks moving about in the "river" outside the living room window. Do they feel the emotional turmoil of the humans around them? We anthropomorphize so many of our brothers and sisters without a clue whether it's appropriate. Perhaps they are, as many will say, simply animals, with no concern or social consciousness. But if we are to believe, as I do, that our thoughts can be, and are, emanations into our surroundings, then surely on a day of such strong and less-than-bright emotions, we are sending out that same kind of energy.
I'm not saying that we shouldn't feel what we feel. On the contrary, if it is still part of your life or your grieving process, I won't deny you that. The loss of loved ones is a profound and long-lasting impact. Besides, it's the nature of the human animal to have the emotions that we have. I think the key is to be aware of them and realize how they can affect our judgment and our actions.
On that surreal day ten years ago, my first reaction was shock and disbelief. Initially, it felt as though Orson Welles had pulled another one on us. (For the young among us, if Orson Welles is unfamiliar to you, look up "The War of the Worlds". Not the movies, the radio broadcast.) Then the second tower was hit. This was no longer an elaborate "scare tactic". I was sitting at my computer in North Richland Hills, TX watching the Today Show. I started flipping through all the networks and the cable news networks. Everybody had this story. It was real. How could it be? Who would do such a thing?
As the news unfolded over the next couple of months, we learned that terrorists had taken minimal flight lessons, commandeered the aircraft and flown them into buildings. By that time, I had moved to Rhode Island and begun traveling. Extensively. Another surreal experience as, instead of simply picking up my tickets and walking to my gate, I encountered a gauntlet of security measures. Those measures continued to become more invasive and pervasive as the following eight years progressed. I had a trip to Georgia in March of 2003. We were all still talking about the collapse of the Twin Towers. I had the Flight Simulator installed on my laptop. I showed the class, during a break of course, how even without a joystick, I could launch a commercial jet from La Guardia, circle it around and plow into the Tower. Flying a plane is not that difficult. Taking off is even easier. Landing is the really tough part and these guys didn't need that knowledge! Really, then, they didn't need flight lessons and their tracks would have been even more difficult to trace.
We had become an angry nation. Our leaders determined that the proper response was to hunt down those responsible and "make them pay". Personally, I agree. However, the truth was/is that an organization was responsible. As such, "we" needed to wipe out the organization. Thousands of members across nearly every continent and protected by an elaborate "stealth" system. They could hide in plain sight. Because we couldn't develop a covert, undercover operation to discover the identities and locations of this organization, a simple and comprehensive military assault system was devised. Part of the result was that we "got" some of the leadership. In the process, we also destroyed the live and livelihoods of innocent civilians.
I've heard many argue that none of them could be "innocent" because they held the same religious belief system. Let's face it, war is not a pretty thing. It's not a terribly accurate thing either when your weapons are designed to to obliterate entire buildings. "Collateral Damage" is the term that gets spouted in such instances. Yes, the terror attacks on September 11 were not carried out against military targets. Ok, two were. Of the four planes that were used as weapons against The United States, one was aimed at the heart of government (it went down in Pennsylvania) and the other at the heart of our military leadership. The others, as would be logical in a war scenario, were aimed at our financial stability. Do not think for a moment that if this country decided there was an enemy state which posed a real and present danger our leaders would not exercise the same tactical options. Our military technology, however, makes it possible to bring down such institutions without the use of a commercial airliner filled with civilians. Would it really be any different? Would it not then be logical for our "enemy" to respond that all Americans need to "pay" because they all believe the same thing?
You may be getting the impression that I don't agree with this country's choice of "retaliation". You would be correct. I don't agree. Not entirely. I know, it sounds absurd to agree with only part of a military action, or "war on terror". So call me absurd, call me naive, call me whatever names you like. That's your prerogative. You're not going to offend me. I believe what I believe, I feel what I feel. No words are going to change that. I'm not trying to change the belief or felling of any other person, either. I'm simply sharing my viewpoint.
My bottom line is simple. We will never have peace on this planet until we figure out how to stop quarreling over beliefs, lines on a map and greed. Put all those things aside and remember two things: 1) Our Creator instructs us to Respect All Living Things and 2) Christians are supposed to Love Everyone. Neither of those concepts leaves any room for "unless", "but" or "except". They are very simple instructions. There are no "do this don't do that" clauses. Just the very simple Respect and Love directions. While I haven't done exhaustive research into other belief systems, I do know that the ones I've looked at, even briefly, share similar concepts. Faith, belief, spirituality, whatever you want to call it, does not call upon us to damage each other. Ever. If you think of your life from that perspective, you'll see that many of the things we do today would NOT happen in the first place, leading to the dire predicaments in which we find ourselves.
I pray, on a daily basis, that everyone learns these two simple rules. I pray that those who already understand this will stand up and spread the word. I pray that you can be the change the world needs.
Today in Fresno is a gray, cloudy day, with the possibility of thunderstorms. Usually, a summer day here starts out on the cool side, with comfortably low humidity. Today started a little warmer and a bit on the sticky side. The weather could easily contribute to a darker mood, but I welcome the change. It will still get hot this afternoon, but the morning feels somehow quieter through the open windows.
There are ducks moving about in the "river" outside the living room window. Do they feel the emotional turmoil of the humans around them? We anthropomorphize so many of our brothers and sisters without a clue whether it's appropriate. Perhaps they are, as many will say, simply animals, with no concern or social consciousness. But if we are to believe, as I do, that our thoughts can be, and are, emanations into our surroundings, then surely on a day of such strong and less-than-bright emotions, we are sending out that same kind of energy.
I'm not saying that we shouldn't feel what we feel. On the contrary, if it is still part of your life or your grieving process, I won't deny you that. The loss of loved ones is a profound and long-lasting impact. Besides, it's the nature of the human animal to have the emotions that we have. I think the key is to be aware of them and realize how they can affect our judgment and our actions.
On that surreal day ten years ago, my first reaction was shock and disbelief. Initially, it felt as though Orson Welles had pulled another one on us. (For the young among us, if Orson Welles is unfamiliar to you, look up "The War of the Worlds". Not the movies, the radio broadcast.) Then the second tower was hit. This was no longer an elaborate "scare tactic". I was sitting at my computer in North Richland Hills, TX watching the Today Show. I started flipping through all the networks and the cable news networks. Everybody had this story. It was real. How could it be? Who would do such a thing?
As the news unfolded over the next couple of months, we learned that terrorists had taken minimal flight lessons, commandeered the aircraft and flown them into buildings. By that time, I had moved to Rhode Island and begun traveling. Extensively. Another surreal experience as, instead of simply picking up my tickets and walking to my gate, I encountered a gauntlet of security measures. Those measures continued to become more invasive and pervasive as the following eight years progressed. I had a trip to Georgia in March of 2003. We were all still talking about the collapse of the Twin Towers. I had the Flight Simulator installed on my laptop. I showed the class, during a break of course, how even without a joystick, I could launch a commercial jet from La Guardia, circle it around and plow into the Tower. Flying a plane is not that difficult. Taking off is even easier. Landing is the really tough part and these guys didn't need that knowledge! Really, then, they didn't need flight lessons and their tracks would have been even more difficult to trace.
We had become an angry nation. Our leaders determined that the proper response was to hunt down those responsible and "make them pay". Personally, I agree. However, the truth was/is that an organization was responsible. As such, "we" needed to wipe out the organization. Thousands of members across nearly every continent and protected by an elaborate "stealth" system. They could hide in plain sight. Because we couldn't develop a covert, undercover operation to discover the identities and locations of this organization, a simple and comprehensive military assault system was devised. Part of the result was that we "got" some of the leadership. In the process, we also destroyed the live and livelihoods of innocent civilians.
I've heard many argue that none of them could be "innocent" because they held the same religious belief system. Let's face it, war is not a pretty thing. It's not a terribly accurate thing either when your weapons are designed to to obliterate entire buildings. "Collateral Damage" is the term that gets spouted in such instances. Yes, the terror attacks on September 11 were not carried out against military targets. Ok, two were. Of the four planes that were used as weapons against The United States, one was aimed at the heart of government (it went down in Pennsylvania) and the other at the heart of our military leadership. The others, as would be logical in a war scenario, were aimed at our financial stability. Do not think for a moment that if this country decided there was an enemy state which posed a real and present danger our leaders would not exercise the same tactical options. Our military technology, however, makes it possible to bring down such institutions without the use of a commercial airliner filled with civilians. Would it really be any different? Would it not then be logical for our "enemy" to respond that all Americans need to "pay" because they all believe the same thing?
You may be getting the impression that I don't agree with this country's choice of "retaliation". You would be correct. I don't agree. Not entirely. I know, it sounds absurd to agree with only part of a military action, or "war on terror". So call me absurd, call me naive, call me whatever names you like. That's your prerogative. You're not going to offend me. I believe what I believe, I feel what I feel. No words are going to change that. I'm not trying to change the belief or felling of any other person, either. I'm simply sharing my viewpoint.
My bottom line is simple. We will never have peace on this planet until we figure out how to stop quarreling over beliefs, lines on a map and greed. Put all those things aside and remember two things: 1) Our Creator instructs us to Respect All Living Things and 2) Christians are supposed to Love Everyone. Neither of those concepts leaves any room for "unless", "but" or "except". They are very simple instructions. There are no "do this don't do that" clauses. Just the very simple Respect and Love directions. While I haven't done exhaustive research into other belief systems, I do know that the ones I've looked at, even briefly, share similar concepts. Faith, belief, spirituality, whatever you want to call it, does not call upon us to damage each other. Ever. If you think of your life from that perspective, you'll see that many of the things we do today would NOT happen in the first place, leading to the dire predicaments in which we find ourselves.
I pray, on a daily basis, that everyone learns these two simple rules. I pray that those who already understand this will stand up and spread the word. I pray that you can be the change the world needs.
Friday, September 2, 2011
The Empty Polling Booth
The Empty Polling Booth is not a science fiction story nor a tale of a post apocalyptic geopolitical construct. It is instead an idea for change. It was presented to me today by a very dear friend. There is a possibility that some internet-scouring organization of the political establishment may read this article and label me with one of the dirty words they are sworn to suppress. No, I'll not put those words to this screen, that would be equivalent to shouting them out. You, dear reader, may discern one or more of those words as the idea unfolds.
Our tale starts with the history of a country now 235 years old. Really quite young compared to many others around the world. It started as an escape route, a haven, a paradise to be built. There were grand ideals set forth by the founding fathers in documents intended to keep those ideals alive and inviolate. For a time those documents stood resolute and strong. The people rejoiced in their freedoms and responsibilities as citizens. These documents were the Constitution of the United States and the Bill of Rights. I encourage all citizens of this nation to read these documents, including the Additional Amendments.
As time passed and society evolved, additional amendments, now numbered eleven through twenty-seven, were added and ratified by the governing body. Some of these amendments have been controversial, both in the time of their creation and today. Some have been undeniably necessary and morally correct. The one undeniable fact over the last 235 years is that the governing body should represent The People. It seems to me that within my lifetime, if not longer, this has changed. What with Political Action Committees, Special Interest Groups, Lobbyists and the rest, all of whom seem to have influential and deep pockets, the interests of The People have taken a back seat!
The Empty Polling Booth is an idea that will fall on deaf ears. I know there are not a lot of people who read my musings, but maybe, just maybe they can spread the word a bit. The deaf ears will be those who probably don't read my pages anyway. Those who live well above the middle class have no need to see changes to the system as it waddles its way through future history. Everyone else, those who are directly responsible for the infrastructure of this country, those are now most negatively affected by the flatulence of government, those who are being crushed by the weight of a bloated Budget, they are the ones that I feel will grasp this idea.
So now I'll address my commentary to those people, the ones for whom this country still holds the potential to be the greatest country on earth once again, if only it could regain its original values. Are you happy with your government (the legislative branch)? Are you happy with the legal system (the judiciary branch)? Are you happy with the leadership (the executive branch)? I have a feeling that a large number of people I would call friend would answer NO to all three questions. Of course, we've all heard the answer to these questions: Then change it! At this point, almost everyone will say something like, "There just aren't any good options on the ballot!" So we are relegated to choosing the lesser of two evils. I can't tell you how many times I heard that in 2008, on a variety of ballot choices.
It seems like it has been that way for over 20 years now! How sad is it that among the populace of this country we cannot find a candidate to truly represent the will of The People. Forget representing the will of The People, that's almost become a pipe dream. There are too many of us and we're all too different! How about representing the best interest and the good of The People. Anybody have a representative like that? Keep in mind all the constituents of their area. Is there anyone out there "pleasing most of The People most of the time"?
Since we seem to rarely have a positive choice to make at the polls, and a negative choice (lesser of two evils) isn't a great option either, can we send a different message? Can we send a message that says, "Not only are we disappointed with your performance, we're becoming angry. Enough nonsense from you and your colleagues." Since we don't like the choices, DON'T CHOOSE! Don't make a choice based on which is least distasteful. Sure, go ahead and voice your opinion on bond issues or road taxes, but don't give the power to someone you don't think deserves it!
Of course that begs the question, "What happens if nobody gets a single vote?" Does the incumbent retain the post? I would hope not, because in essence it's a dead heat tie! Is another election required? Presumably. But if the candidates are the same, then the result would be the same, IF WE STICK TO OUR GUNS. If we could make this happen, across ALL socio-political-economic barriers, the result just might be a change for the better.
The Empty Polling Booth aka: What if They Held an Election and Nobody Came?
Our tale starts with the history of a country now 235 years old. Really quite young compared to many others around the world. It started as an escape route, a haven, a paradise to be built. There were grand ideals set forth by the founding fathers in documents intended to keep those ideals alive and inviolate. For a time those documents stood resolute and strong. The people rejoiced in their freedoms and responsibilities as citizens. These documents were the Constitution of the United States and the Bill of Rights. I encourage all citizens of this nation to read these documents, including the Additional Amendments.
As time passed and society evolved, additional amendments, now numbered eleven through twenty-seven, were added and ratified by the governing body. Some of these amendments have been controversial, both in the time of their creation and today. Some have been undeniably necessary and morally correct. The one undeniable fact over the last 235 years is that the governing body should represent The People. It seems to me that within my lifetime, if not longer, this has changed. What with Political Action Committees, Special Interest Groups, Lobbyists and the rest, all of whom seem to have influential and deep pockets, the interests of The People have taken a back seat!
The Empty Polling Booth is an idea that will fall on deaf ears. I know there are not a lot of people who read my musings, but maybe, just maybe they can spread the word a bit. The deaf ears will be those who probably don't read my pages anyway. Those who live well above the middle class have no need to see changes to the system as it waddles its way through future history. Everyone else, those who are directly responsible for the infrastructure of this country, those are now most negatively affected by the flatulence of government, those who are being crushed by the weight of a bloated Budget, they are the ones that I feel will grasp this idea.
So now I'll address my commentary to those people, the ones for whom this country still holds the potential to be the greatest country on earth once again, if only it could regain its original values. Are you happy with your government (the legislative branch)? Are you happy with the legal system (the judiciary branch)? Are you happy with the leadership (the executive branch)? I have a feeling that a large number of people I would call friend would answer NO to all three questions. Of course, we've all heard the answer to these questions: Then change it! At this point, almost everyone will say something like, "There just aren't any good options on the ballot!" So we are relegated to choosing the lesser of two evils. I can't tell you how many times I heard that in 2008, on a variety of ballot choices.
It seems like it has been that way for over 20 years now! How sad is it that among the populace of this country we cannot find a candidate to truly represent the will of The People. Forget representing the will of The People, that's almost become a pipe dream. There are too many of us and we're all too different! How about representing the best interest and the good of The People. Anybody have a representative like that? Keep in mind all the constituents of their area. Is there anyone out there "pleasing most of The People most of the time"?
Since we seem to rarely have a positive choice to make at the polls, and a negative choice (lesser of two evils) isn't a great option either, can we send a different message? Can we send a message that says, "Not only are we disappointed with your performance, we're becoming angry. Enough nonsense from you and your colleagues." Since we don't like the choices, DON'T CHOOSE! Don't make a choice based on which is least distasteful. Sure, go ahead and voice your opinion on bond issues or road taxes, but don't give the power to someone you don't think deserves it!
Of course that begs the question, "What happens if nobody gets a single vote?" Does the incumbent retain the post? I would hope not, because in essence it's a dead heat tie! Is another election required? Presumably. But if the candidates are the same, then the result would be the same, IF WE STICK TO OUR GUNS. If we could make this happen, across ALL socio-political-economic barriers, the result just might be a change for the better.
The Empty Polling Booth aka: What if They Held an Election and Nobody Came?
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Where? How? Why?
As much as I might want it otherwise, I am lost. I have been lost for over three months now. It might be longer, I can't be sure. I look around for the familiar, the comfortable, and cannot find them. The only stability that remains is Ama Shash and even she is feeling the stress of our changed life. Some important things in our lives have gone missing. No matter how we search, they are nowhere to be found.
We have both lost parts of our Spirit. I'm pretty sure I know why. We moved here in a haze of delusion. The reasons we moved were, in our minds, good and strong. Turns out they were merely hopes upon which we put too much faith. The plans we had were built of sticks instead of bricks. It seems there are people on the east coast that would be very happy if we returned. Truth be told, if it were possible to go back to the life we had there, we would be sorely tempted to do so.
Our connections to who we had become were stronger. Those connections have all but disappeared here. It was easy to connect there. We were surrounded by easily discovered "special" places. Here, we are surrounded by asphalt and concrete and "civilization." Sure, we've found a couple of spots. One is in a California State Recreation Area, which is regularly overrun by apparently uncaring and unconnected people. The disrespect with which these people treat the land and the water is palpable and distasteful. Another is near the end of the world in Kings Canyon National Park. During summer, similar people inhabit the campsites. Even so, it's possible to walk for five minutes and escape their influence.
It was during one such walk last month that I found myself at peace. It wasn't the same kind of peace I experienced in Rhode Island, but it came close. Once all the schools are back in session, I think it may be more likely. Sequoia National Park has the same potential. We have the equipment for both of us to go camping for any of her three day off respites. I also have the equipment to do the same by myself. I keep telling myself I need to do it, but I don't want to leave her alone here. Today was a good example of why.
Since moving here, her car has been broken into, my car has been broken into twice, and this morning, we found the garage door open. It seems a pair of heavy pliers are enough muscle open the doorknob on the apartment side of the garage. Here's the crazy part. Only my belt sander and drill motor were taken. The cabinet was rummaged but nothing removed. The table saw, scroll saw, drill press and grinder remained. Tomorrow I'll look into the mandatory renter's insurance that is part of our lease to see what my options are. In the meantime, I've purchased a lockset with a dead bolt. I can't install the dead bolt because my drill is gone.
Temperatures in the summer here run in the upper 90s to low 100s for about four months. Humidity stays low making it almost bearable. After 8 years in Rhode Island, neither of us will complain on that issue. However, without air conditioning in either car, any travel is extremely uncomfortable. When I ride my bike, I try to leave no later than 8am. I guess my O.L.D. keeps me from riding in the heat like I did in Texas. I still cannot fathom how I pulled that miracle, considering it would be over 100 with humidity at or above 50%. If I want to work in the garage at all, the same conditions apply. I must get out there before the sun rises and starts baking the south wall of the garage.
Yes, I'm complaining. Yes, I'm miserable. Ama is miserable, too. She said to me the other day that she made a mistake taking this job. I reminded her that it was not her decision alone. We agreed. We try very hard to not do anything upon which we do not agree. I know, how weird are we, the couple that talks and agrees. So maybe we're unique. Well, a little. I know of at least one other couple that is very similar to us. I'm just finding it harder and harder to maintain the "It is what it is" attitude, or to be thankful for the trials and tribulations we endure. Perhaps part of the reason is that I can no longer reach out my Spirit to touch Nature's Spirits all around me. Lately it seems the only spirits around here are either criminals who want our "stuff" or coworkers (hers) who seem to leave their brains in the parking lot.
And yes, I'm back on the hunt for a job. I just don't see myself as the Program Director for KinderCare.
We have both lost parts of our Spirit. I'm pretty sure I know why. We moved here in a haze of delusion. The reasons we moved were, in our minds, good and strong. Turns out they were merely hopes upon which we put too much faith. The plans we had were built of sticks instead of bricks. It seems there are people on the east coast that would be very happy if we returned. Truth be told, if it were possible to go back to the life we had there, we would be sorely tempted to do so.
Our connections to who we had become were stronger. Those connections have all but disappeared here. It was easy to connect there. We were surrounded by easily discovered "special" places. Here, we are surrounded by asphalt and concrete and "civilization." Sure, we've found a couple of spots. One is in a California State Recreation Area, which is regularly overrun by apparently uncaring and unconnected people. The disrespect with which these people treat the land and the water is palpable and distasteful. Another is near the end of the world in Kings Canyon National Park. During summer, similar people inhabit the campsites. Even so, it's possible to walk for five minutes and escape their influence.
It was during one such walk last month that I found myself at peace. It wasn't the same kind of peace I experienced in Rhode Island, but it came close. Once all the schools are back in session, I think it may be more likely. Sequoia National Park has the same potential. We have the equipment for both of us to go camping for any of her three day off respites. I also have the equipment to do the same by myself. I keep telling myself I need to do it, but I don't want to leave her alone here. Today was a good example of why.
Since moving here, her car has been broken into, my car has been broken into twice, and this morning, we found the garage door open. It seems a pair of heavy pliers are enough muscle open the doorknob on the apartment side of the garage. Here's the crazy part. Only my belt sander and drill motor were taken. The cabinet was rummaged but nothing removed. The table saw, scroll saw, drill press and grinder remained. Tomorrow I'll look into the mandatory renter's insurance that is part of our lease to see what my options are. In the meantime, I've purchased a lockset with a dead bolt. I can't install the dead bolt because my drill is gone.
Temperatures in the summer here run in the upper 90s to low 100s for about four months. Humidity stays low making it almost bearable. After 8 years in Rhode Island, neither of us will complain on that issue. However, without air conditioning in either car, any travel is extremely uncomfortable. When I ride my bike, I try to leave no later than 8am. I guess my O.L.D. keeps me from riding in the heat like I did in Texas. I still cannot fathom how I pulled that miracle, considering it would be over 100 with humidity at or above 50%. If I want to work in the garage at all, the same conditions apply. I must get out there before the sun rises and starts baking the south wall of the garage.
Yes, I'm complaining. Yes, I'm miserable. Ama is miserable, too. She said to me the other day that she made a mistake taking this job. I reminded her that it was not her decision alone. We agreed. We try very hard to not do anything upon which we do not agree. I know, how weird are we, the couple that talks and agrees. So maybe we're unique. Well, a little. I know of at least one other couple that is very similar to us. I'm just finding it harder and harder to maintain the "It is what it is" attitude, or to be thankful for the trials and tribulations we endure. Perhaps part of the reason is that I can no longer reach out my Spirit to touch Nature's Spirits all around me. Lately it seems the only spirits around here are either criminals who want our "stuff" or coworkers (hers) who seem to leave their brains in the parking lot.
And yes, I'm back on the hunt for a job. I just don't see myself as the Program Director for KinderCare.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Today is ... Tuesday
Time, and life, have a way of slipping silently by like the gentle stream in a mountain meadow. Even with a National Holiday just yesterday, I had to think for a moment what day of the week it is. It's a side effect of two things.
First, my hunny usually has an unusual schedule. Three days on, three days off, can put a "weekend" right in the middle of a calendar week. Let me just say that has its benefits, too. Second, I'm no longer part of the American Rat Race. I don't adhere to the rigorous scheduling of life that is part of Corporate America. My days are my own. Such as they are.
My sense of time, that nagging ticking of the clock that propels us through this existence, has changed. At almost every powwow I've attended has arisen the phrase, "Indian Time". What this means, at least at a powwow, is that Grand Entry is "scheduled" for noon, but usually happens some time between noon:10 and noon:45. Ish. In other words, it happens when it happens. It is acknowledged that we don't have that much control. More importantly, it's accepted. I get up in the morning and say, "I want to have X, Y and Z accomplished by 2pm. It doesn't always happen. In fact, it rarely happens. I have too many "things" on my plate and set unrealistic expectations of myself. Then, being a good American, I kick myself for not "doing".
Life is not a goal to be reached, but a journey to be experienced. And appreciated.
First, my hunny usually has an unusual schedule. Three days on, three days off, can put a "weekend" right in the middle of a calendar week. Let me just say that has its benefits, too. Second, I'm no longer part of the American Rat Race. I don't adhere to the rigorous scheduling of life that is part of Corporate America. My days are my own. Such as they are.
My sense of time, that nagging ticking of the clock that propels us through this existence, has changed. At almost every powwow I've attended has arisen the phrase, "Indian Time". What this means, at least at a powwow, is that Grand Entry is "scheduled" for noon, but usually happens some time between noon:10 and noon:45. Ish. In other words, it happens when it happens. It is acknowledged that we don't have that much control. More importantly, it's accepted. I get up in the morning and say, "I want to have X, Y and Z accomplished by 2pm. It doesn't always happen. In fact, it rarely happens. I have too many "things" on my plate and set unrealistic expectations of myself. Then, being a good American, I kick myself for not "doing".
Life is not a goal to be reached, but a journey to be experienced. And appreciated.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Earth Day Approaches
Yes, it has been a while since I've been here. Sometimes it's difficult to put together all the thoughts running through my head. I think I've found the analogy for what happens in my head. I have warm air rising rapidly and cold air falling rapidly and the result is a tornado of thought that needs to draw in some cooling rain to take the strength out of the chaotic vortex. (Saw that on the Weather Channel today as they followed the line of storms through North Carolina.)
However, today, April 16, 2011, was a day wherein I found myself challenged. Today the California State Parks Foundation sponsored a work day to prepare for Earth Day. PG&E (Pacific Gas & Electric) is the primary sponsor, with Home Depot, Starbucks and Dannon providing funding and support. I was one of a handful of lone volunteers standing ready to do my part for my local State Park, known as Millerton Lake State Recreation Area. Located less than half an hour north of most of Fresno, the lake is the result of a dam filling up a canyon. During late Spring, Summer and Early Autumn, this place is packed. There is a campground on the northwest shore of the lake. There are day use areas across the south and east sides. The lake itself meanders northward providing extra opportunities for water sports or just plain exploring. There are also hiking trails throughout the park.
Too many times, I have visited places of such grandeur and beauty as to make me stop and remember to breathe. Millerton Lake is one such place. Many decades ago there was a community where the lake now sits. Before that, there were aboriginal people enjoying a peaceful life. It was a truly beautiful place then, filled with trees and plants of a wide variety, wildlife enough to support the people, and weather that was neither too harsh in the winter nor too hot in the summer. No, there are no historical records of this. I have felt it. I have sat along the shore of the lake and felt the presence of those who were there. Surprisingly, their spirits are not saddened by the creation of the lake. They are, instead, quite content that their resting place will not be disturbed as so many around our land have been.
So today, a group of people gathered together to help keep this a place of beauty and peace, to help keep it safe for those who will utilize the area for recreational purposes. I don't begrudge the people who come with their families, or individually, their presence here. The spirits of those forgotten find reason to smile with many of the visitors. However, they do not smile when they see one of the reasons our group was there today. The group in which I chose to participate was tasked with picking up trash along the south shore.
There are wide expanses of beach along the south shore of Millerton Lake. Some of the shore is dotted with formations of sandstone and granite. We are after all at the foothills of the mighty Sierra Nevada. For so many of us who grew up in Southern California, we never thought twice as children about running out onto the sand in our bare feet and scampering away from the edge of the encroaching Pacific Ocean. It would be unwise to do so today. Our coastal beaches and our lake beaches are fouled with the presence of humans. Take a look around. Drive down a street. You'll see it. The refuse of a "throw-away" society. It doesn't matter what it is, "someone else will clean it up". Nowhere is this more evident, nor more painful to see, than at a "recreation" area.
Alcoholic beverages are not permitted within the California State Park system. As I'm sure you can guess, the one thing I picked up the most of was broken beer bottles. There was the occasional aluminum soda can and the odd candy or snack wrapper. I was not alone in this task. There was a small army of people scouring the sands and rocks and scrub looking for the evidence of humanity that should not have been there. In particular, were two young boys. They had come to the park to volunteer with their grandmother. As I stood next to the Ranger's truck awaiting dispersal, the boys joined me. Grandma made sure they each had a cell phone to use in case of emergency. She looked to me to watch over the boys and I readily agreed.
When I say young, I estimate their ages at 8 and 5, maybe 6. We, those on the trash detail, were all given our on plastic bag. I could go on and on about the two hours the three of us spent chatting and combing the landscape, but suffice to say that these two boys were as hard working as anyone there. Leo, the younger of the two, took great pride in pointing out that his bag was getting heavy and more full than either Johnny's (his brother) or mine. They were also quite pleased that we were following another group and finding things they had missed. I made sure, when we all returned to the tables, to let Grandma know that the boys did an awesome job.
I have determined that I will visit the lake more often and always carry my gloves and a trash bag or two. There has not been a single visit where I couldn't have done some cleanup. It's a small thing, but it's good to get out into the fresh air, enjoy the gifts of Creator and Mother Earth, and give bag a little in appreciation. Another benefit will be that I'll be able to spend some time listening. I can listen to the Spirits of the lake: the ducks, the geese, the eagles. I can listen to the Spirits of the People, too, as they share how beautiful their lives were. In this way I can honor them.
Oh, and that challenge I mentioned at the beginning? Physical. I am reminded that I'm not as young as once I was. Again. It seems my knees are not particularly fond of crawling across rocks, trudging through mud and sand, and climbing even relatively small hills. I guess that means I need to do it more, and often.
However, today, April 16, 2011, was a day wherein I found myself challenged. Today the California State Parks Foundation sponsored a work day to prepare for Earth Day. PG&E (Pacific Gas & Electric) is the primary sponsor, with Home Depot, Starbucks and Dannon providing funding and support. I was one of a handful of lone volunteers standing ready to do my part for my local State Park, known as Millerton Lake State Recreation Area. Located less than half an hour north of most of Fresno, the lake is the result of a dam filling up a canyon. During late Spring, Summer and Early Autumn, this place is packed. There is a campground on the northwest shore of the lake. There are day use areas across the south and east sides. The lake itself meanders northward providing extra opportunities for water sports or just plain exploring. There are also hiking trails throughout the park.
Too many times, I have visited places of such grandeur and beauty as to make me stop and remember to breathe. Millerton Lake is one such place. Many decades ago there was a community where the lake now sits. Before that, there were aboriginal people enjoying a peaceful life. It was a truly beautiful place then, filled with trees and plants of a wide variety, wildlife enough to support the people, and weather that was neither too harsh in the winter nor too hot in the summer. No, there are no historical records of this. I have felt it. I have sat along the shore of the lake and felt the presence of those who were there. Surprisingly, their spirits are not saddened by the creation of the lake. They are, instead, quite content that their resting place will not be disturbed as so many around our land have been.
So today, a group of people gathered together to help keep this a place of beauty and peace, to help keep it safe for those who will utilize the area for recreational purposes. I don't begrudge the people who come with their families, or individually, their presence here. The spirits of those forgotten find reason to smile with many of the visitors. However, they do not smile when they see one of the reasons our group was there today. The group in which I chose to participate was tasked with picking up trash along the south shore.
There are wide expanses of beach along the south shore of Millerton Lake. Some of the shore is dotted with formations of sandstone and granite. We are after all at the foothills of the mighty Sierra Nevada. For so many of us who grew up in Southern California, we never thought twice as children about running out onto the sand in our bare feet and scampering away from the edge of the encroaching Pacific Ocean. It would be unwise to do so today. Our coastal beaches and our lake beaches are fouled with the presence of humans. Take a look around. Drive down a street. You'll see it. The refuse of a "throw-away" society. It doesn't matter what it is, "someone else will clean it up". Nowhere is this more evident, nor more painful to see, than at a "recreation" area.
Alcoholic beverages are not permitted within the California State Park system. As I'm sure you can guess, the one thing I picked up the most of was broken beer bottles. There was the occasional aluminum soda can and the odd candy or snack wrapper. I was not alone in this task. There was a small army of people scouring the sands and rocks and scrub looking for the evidence of humanity that should not have been there. In particular, were two young boys. They had come to the park to volunteer with their grandmother. As I stood next to the Ranger's truck awaiting dispersal, the boys joined me. Grandma made sure they each had a cell phone to use in case of emergency. She looked to me to watch over the boys and I readily agreed.
When I say young, I estimate their ages at 8 and 5, maybe 6. We, those on the trash detail, were all given our on plastic bag. I could go on and on about the two hours the three of us spent chatting and combing the landscape, but suffice to say that these two boys were as hard working as anyone there. Leo, the younger of the two, took great pride in pointing out that his bag was getting heavy and more full than either Johnny's (his brother) or mine. They were also quite pleased that we were following another group and finding things they had missed. I made sure, when we all returned to the tables, to let Grandma know that the boys did an awesome job.
I have determined that I will visit the lake more often and always carry my gloves and a trash bag or two. There has not been a single visit where I couldn't have done some cleanup. It's a small thing, but it's good to get out into the fresh air, enjoy the gifts of Creator and Mother Earth, and give bag a little in appreciation. Another benefit will be that I'll be able to spend some time listening. I can listen to the Spirits of the lake: the ducks, the geese, the eagles. I can listen to the Spirits of the People, too, as they share how beautiful their lives were. In this way I can honor them.
Oh, and that challenge I mentioned at the beginning? Physical. I am reminded that I'm not as young as once I was. Again. It seems my knees are not particularly fond of crawling across rocks, trudging through mud and sand, and climbing even relatively small hills. I guess that means I need to do it more, and often.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
The Pain of Old School
Honestly, I almost wish I had done this sooner. Realistically I did. The first one was "hollowed" with a gouge. That was also when I learned that leather gloves aren't enough to protect against a gouge that has slipped. You might be surprised at how much that huge thumb muscle on your palm can bleed. I know I was.
Today, I sanded the the first hand-bored body. Yes, that was a challenge. I know a little about working with wood. Very little. I do know that when sanding you start with a coarse grit and move up in stages to a fine grit. 60 grit is pretty much like having little tiny pebbles glued to the paper. That is, until you apply said sandpaper to a rounded surface one inch in diameter. The pebbles come off and you rub them against the wood with a piece of paper. Not very effective. Moving up to 100 provided a better smooting.
There are some splinters and a few divots (I'm still getting the hang of this gouge thing) so I decided to try filling them. I used plain white glue. I figured it's only lightly toxic (it's used in elementary schools, after all) and when it dries on my finger I can just peel it off. Put a drop in front of the splinter, draw a finger along the line and voila, filled splinter. Same technique to the divots. It's sitting in the garage drying now. I'll bring it in the morning. Maybe tonight. It's supposed to start raining for two days.
I have two bodies from which to remove a considerable amount of wood. The first one I tackled is the one that isn't sideways. That's a configuration I'm more familiar with. So I gouge out the Slow Air Chamber and the blow hole. That part went pretty smoothly. The Sound Chamber though provided some exercise. Toward the foot of the body there is a knot. It's not terribly big but the thing has practically turned to amber. It released a not unpleasant aroma, too. I get it smoothed out and the rest of the 18 inches gouged out. Doesn't look too bad. I'm learning how and where to apply pressure to the gouge.
Now for the other side. I look toward the end and the surface of the knot I encountered already is HUGE on this side. I can see that it goes through to the outside. It's less than half the size on the outside so maybe it's a nice tight funnel shape. As I begin to dig through it, I realize it's no funnel. It's more like a cancerous growth waiting for oxygen to spur it on like a wildfire. This thing is HARD! I'm worried now about the edge on my gouges. Rather than tackle this thing immediately, I go back and finish off the rest of the Sound Chamber, above and below the knot. Five minutes later I realize that was a bad mistake. First, I now have this "mound" sitting in the middle of my flute barrel. Why is that a problem? Because now when the edge of the gouge cuts through it invariably digs itself into the already shaped sides! On top of that, the deeper into this thing I get, the harder it seems to get. It's not like slicing layers of wood now, it's more like shaving granite! I get about two-thirds of the way through it and notice moisture. Ooze.
Not only is the color beautiful, like a golden honey, it smells richly of wood and it's making my right arm hurt from the should down to my fingers! That's when I notice that in one section of it, I've dug too deeply. There's going to be an odd bulge at the foot of this flute. I don't dare sand the outside down to round like I usually do. Sanding probably wouldn't affect this thing anyway. With my luck, it will laugh at me and shatter the whole end of the flute.
I never even got to the sideways monster. Depending on the agenda for her first day of vacation, I may work on it inside. She'll probably want to get some sewing done, so I better bring in one of the powwow tables.
Guess I better go out and get the materials. Just in case the rain starts and is heavier than forecast. I don't need open flute cores absorbing moisture. One of them is already warped a bit. Like me.
So, always work the knot first. Less pain that way. Pay very close attention to the depth. Yep, another learning experience.
Today, I sanded the the first hand-bored body. Yes, that was a challenge. I know a little about working with wood. Very little. I do know that when sanding you start with a coarse grit and move up in stages to a fine grit. 60 grit is pretty much like having little tiny pebbles glued to the paper. That is, until you apply said sandpaper to a rounded surface one inch in diameter. The pebbles come off and you rub them against the wood with a piece of paper. Not very effective. Moving up to 100 provided a better smooting.
There are some splinters and a few divots (I'm still getting the hang of this gouge thing) so I decided to try filling them. I used plain white glue. I figured it's only lightly toxic (it's used in elementary schools, after all) and when it dries on my finger I can just peel it off. Put a drop in front of the splinter, draw a finger along the line and voila, filled splinter. Same technique to the divots. It's sitting in the garage drying now. I'll bring it in the morning. Maybe tonight. It's supposed to start raining for two days.
I have two bodies from which to remove a considerable amount of wood. The first one I tackled is the one that isn't sideways. That's a configuration I'm more familiar with. So I gouge out the Slow Air Chamber and the blow hole. That part went pretty smoothly. The Sound Chamber though provided some exercise. Toward the foot of the body there is a knot. It's not terribly big but the thing has practically turned to amber. It released a not unpleasant aroma, too. I get it smoothed out and the rest of the 18 inches gouged out. Doesn't look too bad. I'm learning how and where to apply pressure to the gouge.
Now for the other side. I look toward the end and the surface of the knot I encountered already is HUGE on this side. I can see that it goes through to the outside. It's less than half the size on the outside so maybe it's a nice tight funnel shape. As I begin to dig through it, I realize it's no funnel. It's more like a cancerous growth waiting for oxygen to spur it on like a wildfire. This thing is HARD! I'm worried now about the edge on my gouges. Rather than tackle this thing immediately, I go back and finish off the rest of the Sound Chamber, above and below the knot. Five minutes later I realize that was a bad mistake. First, I now have this "mound" sitting in the middle of my flute barrel. Why is that a problem? Because now when the edge of the gouge cuts through it invariably digs itself into the already shaped sides! On top of that, the deeper into this thing I get, the harder it seems to get. It's not like slicing layers of wood now, it's more like shaving granite! I get about two-thirds of the way through it and notice moisture. Ooze.
Not only is the color beautiful, like a golden honey, it smells richly of wood and it's making my right arm hurt from the should down to my fingers! That's when I notice that in one section of it, I've dug too deeply. There's going to be an odd bulge at the foot of this flute. I don't dare sand the outside down to round like I usually do. Sanding probably wouldn't affect this thing anyway. With my luck, it will laugh at me and shatter the whole end of the flute.
I never even got to the sideways monster. Depending on the agenda for her first day of vacation, I may work on it inside. She'll probably want to get some sewing done, so I better bring in one of the powwow tables.
Guess I better go out and get the materials. Just in case the rain starts and is heavier than forecast. I don't need open flute cores absorbing moisture. One of them is already warped a bit. Like me.
So, always work the knot first. Less pain that way. Pay very close attention to the depth. Yep, another learning experience.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Going Old School
I am trying to make flutes. I have had some success. The last two that are finished look very pretty. They just don't play as well as I would like. They're both a bit touchy with the amount of breath that goes into them and the tuning is just a hair off. It's all a learning experience.
I was in the process of trying to figure out how to get my wood pieces centered accurately on my inexpensive router table when I thought, "Why not start with the router, even if it's not centered, and finish with the gouge." After all, that's what started this. In Rhode Island, I was almost finished with a branch flute. Well, I thought I was. After the few I've made here, I realize I had a long way to go. When move time came, the two pieces of the branch had warped so badly that it couldn't be salvaged. Another learning experience. So I took the piece I had routed as a centering test and put the gouge to it. It opened up to just over an inch diameter main bore.
I followed that with gouging out the Slow Air Chamber. Then I realized I had no way of accurately gauging how round it was. Back to the computer. I had bought this plastic material to make templates. Why not make a template to test the shape of the bore? Sure enough it was a simple task. It also showed just how much more I needed to take out! That initial test body is now ready for sanding. Once it's sanded, I can start the Slow Air Chamber Exit Hole and the True Sound Hole.
Today I decided to continue in this vein. I have two more bodies measured and marked. Got way ahead of myself thinking about the specifications of the two critical sound holes. I drew in the shape and position. Then I realized those are usually done on the top of the two halves. What I ended up with was rotating my split plane 90 degrees. It will make getting the angles of the holes a little easier, but it also means I have to do them VERY accurately. Once that part is done, they get glued together and I find out how difficult it is to adjust for mismatched sides. Oh, then I get to drill the tuning holes along the seam. Which then means I'll be making tuning adjustments in wood AND glue. I see another learning experience on the horizon.
I was in the process of trying to figure out how to get my wood pieces centered accurately on my inexpensive router table when I thought, "Why not start with the router, even if it's not centered, and finish with the gouge." After all, that's what started this. In Rhode Island, I was almost finished with a branch flute. Well, I thought I was. After the few I've made here, I realize I had a long way to go. When move time came, the two pieces of the branch had warped so badly that it couldn't be salvaged. Another learning experience. So I took the piece I had routed as a centering test and put the gouge to it. It opened up to just over an inch diameter main bore.
I followed that with gouging out the Slow Air Chamber. Then I realized I had no way of accurately gauging how round it was. Back to the computer. I had bought this plastic material to make templates. Why not make a template to test the shape of the bore? Sure enough it was a simple task. It also showed just how much more I needed to take out! That initial test body is now ready for sanding. Once it's sanded, I can start the Slow Air Chamber Exit Hole and the True Sound Hole.
Today I decided to continue in this vein. I have two more bodies measured and marked. Got way ahead of myself thinking about the specifications of the two critical sound holes. I drew in the shape and position. Then I realized those are usually done on the top of the two halves. What I ended up with was rotating my split plane 90 degrees. It will make getting the angles of the holes a little easier, but it also means I have to do them VERY accurately. Once that part is done, they get glued together and I find out how difficult it is to adjust for mismatched sides. Oh, then I get to drill the tuning holes along the seam. Which then means I'll be making tuning adjustments in wood AND glue. I see another learning experience on the horizon.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Discipline is Remembering What You Want
A friend from Rhode Island posted this. It's one of those random status lines that you can get by visiting an application. They call themselves funny statuses, but I don't think this one is. In fact, it's a potent reminder and kick in the backside that I needed to hear.
To me it means, keep your goal in mind and you'll be ready to put forth the effort. Today has been a day of such reminders. I have a great deal of work to do for the business side of the Ventures. Some of it is already complete. A small some in relation to other parts. I have a couple of pretty big computer projects to complete, and soon. I still have four flutes in progress out in the garage.
What I want requires me to ensure I nourish myself properly, stay organized, stay focused on the task at hand, and follow through. Yep, that all sounds like a great deal of discipline.
Thank you, Diane, for the reminder. :)
Blessings, Love and Peace!
To me it means, keep your goal in mind and you'll be ready to put forth the effort. Today has been a day of such reminders. I have a great deal of work to do for the business side of the Ventures. Some of it is already complete. A small some in relation to other parts. I have a couple of pretty big computer projects to complete, and soon. I still have four flutes in progress out in the garage.
What I want requires me to ensure I nourish myself properly, stay organized, stay focused on the task at hand, and follow through. Yep, that all sounds like a great deal of discipline.
Thank you, Diane, for the reminder. :)
Blessings, Love and Peace!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Long Distance
Cold and dark
Electric sun inadequate
Hot tears that won't be dissuaded
Taillights fading in distance
Familiar routine of loneliness
Distance increases through travel
by a means not meant for human
Same time zone, different time zone
Same continent, different continent
Yet still connected
Endless travel to fascinating places
Routine of work, not so different
Meals alone
Sleeping alone
Thoughts of home
Saturday, January 8, 2011
What is Powwow?
Some people hear the word "powwow" and think it's a gathering of heathens. Savages jumping around wildly in the dirt. I have heard there are people who consider it occult or dark. Neither of these concepts could be farther from the truth. The web site powwows.com offers a brief article describing some of the explanations of powwow at What is a Powwow? The Internet encyclopedia site Wikipedia offers its rather extensive description of Pow-wow .
What's more important is what it means to an individual that attends. The theories about the origin of the event or the name are irrelevant. Ask anyone who goes regularly. Even for a first-timer, a powwow can be a special moment in life. For the Native American, or Indian, or First Nations, or whatever you want to call us, when we are at powwow, we are renewed. In many ways, powwows for us are like church for other religions. But I think we have more fun. :)
My soulmate has a five year old granddaughter. Her heritage includes the Quechan people, who now reside on the Fort Yuma Indian Reservation which is mostly in California but stretches slightly across the Colorado River into Arizona, just above the border with Mexico. Her paternal great-grandmother lives there and is approaching her time to cross over. Ten months ago, when my partner moved here, she learned of a powwow coming up in Tollhouse. You'd be hard-pressed to find this community, nestled in the foothills of the mighty Sierra Nevada mountains. But it had been too long since my hunny had been to powwow. The opportunity arose and she was able to take her granddaughter, along with my middle daughter, to their first powwow. I wish I had been there. To see the face on a child of four, to see the stirring within of an ancient inspiration. Yes, this is what was described to me. More accurately, "She had a blast!" No, it wasn't her tribe, it wasn't her homeland. (Of course, at just under 69 square miles, the reservation in no way represents what the Quechan would consider their homeland.) The point is, at powwow the Spirit knows. The Spirit of a person knows when it is among friends and relatives.
Relatives. There's a term that means something different to us as well. The Lakota Sioux have a phrase that represents our beliefs succinctly. Mitakuye Oyasin. Translation is a little, um, mushy. English doesn't exactly convey the meaning, or the feeling, behind those words. All Are Related. For here is where the peoples who inhabited this land long before the arrival of the Europeans differ in their belief. We believe that Creator brought life to everything. We believe that our Mother Earth supports us, gives us life, nurtures and nourishes us. Beyond that, all things around us are living things and deserve our respect. Mother Earth is a living entity. We know this in our hearts. We can feel her heartbeat. We know it at powwow. The drum echoes the heartbeat of our Mother.
One of my favorite phrases from American culture of the last half century has become "tree hugger". Back in the day, it was a derogatory term for those who expressed concern for the environment and the planet. Now it means something very different for me. For I am a tree hugger. Literally. I can feel the pulse of Mother Earth when my arms are wrapped around a tree. There is a connection that goes deeper and farther than most can imagine. The same is true of the grass. Stand in the grass without covering on your feet and you can feel your way around the land.
All Are Related. We come from the same stuff. We have the same source. We have a common history. We all have a Spirit given us by Creator. Watch the animals. You can see that they do not mindlessly move through their lives. And if you listen carefully, with an open heart, you can hear them. All Are Related. The two-leggeds are making a mess of Mother Earth and only now are beginning to think something needs to be done. It may be too late. For the two-leggeds. Our Relations will go on for they follow the path set before them by Creator. So long as the two-leggeds don't continue to destroy their homes.
Two-leggeds, four-leggeds, wingeds, swimmers, crawlers. Everyone who reads knows which families those words represent. If I say, however, the standing people and the silent people, is the same true? You may have gotten a clue about the standing people earlier. The trees and plants are the standing people. And if you've ever stood in a forest or a grove, you know they are not silent. It is said that you should never tell your secrets in the presence of trees, for they will spread that secret. A breeze or wind will rise that they can share amongst themselves and eventually to one who may use it against you. I find it best to keep no secrets. Then speaking with trees carries only peace. Who then are the silent people? They are becoming more and more difficult to find, at least in America. Rocks! We have ripped them up and replaced them with malls and parking lots and office buildings and skyscrapers and apartment complexes. They have seen everything we have done. They can speak of their sorrow to those who can hear.
Powwow then is the way we remind ourselves of all these things. It's good to gather together and celebrate the lives we've been given, the gifts given freely to us. We are reminded by the beat of the drum that we are walking with our Mother Earth. We are reminded to be thankful. We are reminded by the songs and regalia to be joyful, in our diversity and even in our adversity. Challenges we face are merely opportunities for improvement. Live in balance and harmony with All Our Relations and we will Walk the Red Road.
Blessings, Love and Peace
What's more important is what it means to an individual that attends. The theories about the origin of the event or the name are irrelevant. Ask anyone who goes regularly. Even for a first-timer, a powwow can be a special moment in life. For the Native American, or Indian, or First Nations, or whatever you want to call us, when we are at powwow, we are renewed. In many ways, powwows for us are like church for other religions. But I think we have more fun. :)
My soulmate has a five year old granddaughter. Her heritage includes the Quechan people, who now reside on the Fort Yuma Indian Reservation which is mostly in California but stretches slightly across the Colorado River into Arizona, just above the border with Mexico. Her paternal great-grandmother lives there and is approaching her time to cross over. Ten months ago, when my partner moved here, she learned of a powwow coming up in Tollhouse. You'd be hard-pressed to find this community, nestled in the foothills of the mighty Sierra Nevada mountains. But it had been too long since my hunny had been to powwow. The opportunity arose and she was able to take her granddaughter, along with my middle daughter, to their first powwow. I wish I had been there. To see the face on a child of four, to see the stirring within of an ancient inspiration. Yes, this is what was described to me. More accurately, "She had a blast!" No, it wasn't her tribe, it wasn't her homeland. (Of course, at just under 69 square miles, the reservation in no way represents what the Quechan would consider their homeland.) The point is, at powwow the Spirit knows. The Spirit of a person knows when it is among friends and relatives.
Relatives. There's a term that means something different to us as well. The Lakota Sioux have a phrase that represents our beliefs succinctly. Mitakuye Oyasin. Translation is a little, um, mushy. English doesn't exactly convey the meaning, or the feeling, behind those words. All Are Related. For here is where the peoples who inhabited this land long before the arrival of the Europeans differ in their belief. We believe that Creator brought life to everything. We believe that our Mother Earth supports us, gives us life, nurtures and nourishes us. Beyond that, all things around us are living things and deserve our respect. Mother Earth is a living entity. We know this in our hearts. We can feel her heartbeat. We know it at powwow. The drum echoes the heartbeat of our Mother.
One of my favorite phrases from American culture of the last half century has become "tree hugger". Back in the day, it was a derogatory term for those who expressed concern for the environment and the planet. Now it means something very different for me. For I am a tree hugger. Literally. I can feel the pulse of Mother Earth when my arms are wrapped around a tree. There is a connection that goes deeper and farther than most can imagine. The same is true of the grass. Stand in the grass without covering on your feet and you can feel your way around the land.
All Are Related. We come from the same stuff. We have the same source. We have a common history. We all have a Spirit given us by Creator. Watch the animals. You can see that they do not mindlessly move through their lives. And if you listen carefully, with an open heart, you can hear them. All Are Related. The two-leggeds are making a mess of Mother Earth and only now are beginning to think something needs to be done. It may be too late. For the two-leggeds. Our Relations will go on for they follow the path set before them by Creator. So long as the two-leggeds don't continue to destroy their homes.
Two-leggeds, four-leggeds, wingeds, swimmers, crawlers. Everyone who reads knows which families those words represent. If I say, however, the standing people and the silent people, is the same true? You may have gotten a clue about the standing people earlier. The trees and plants are the standing people. And if you've ever stood in a forest or a grove, you know they are not silent. It is said that you should never tell your secrets in the presence of trees, for they will spread that secret. A breeze or wind will rise that they can share amongst themselves and eventually to one who may use it against you. I find it best to keep no secrets. Then speaking with trees carries only peace. Who then are the silent people? They are becoming more and more difficult to find, at least in America. Rocks! We have ripped them up and replaced them with malls and parking lots and office buildings and skyscrapers and apartment complexes. They have seen everything we have done. They can speak of their sorrow to those who can hear.
Powwow then is the way we remind ourselves of all these things. It's good to gather together and celebrate the lives we've been given, the gifts given freely to us. We are reminded by the beat of the drum that we are walking with our Mother Earth. We are reminded to be thankful. We are reminded by the songs and regalia to be joyful, in our diversity and even in our adversity. Challenges we face are merely opportunities for improvement. Live in balance and harmony with All Our Relations and we will Walk the Red Road.
Blessings, Love and Peace
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