Contemplation, Life, Me, Native American Women, Nature

Mko Winter Wonders

Winter finally came by. She is walking sometimes softly and sometimes with a little anger. She is singing quietly today but there have been days when her song was more a wolf’s howl. I sit inside on those days, not even daring to move the curtains aside. Those are the days that I am really feeling the bear inside. Those are the days when napping doe not come with guilt.

I wonder about the bear often during the silent days when snow muffles all the rumblings of the day. I put on my coat, scarf and gloves and shovel the patio clean. I stomp around in the drifts and mounds that I have created and my feet stay dry in boots laced tight. I think about all the animals living in the snow without boots. I wonder if their feet/hoofs/paws are cold?

There was a time when walking along the country road and enjoying the beauty was a big priority for me. Those days are not long gone, yet…but a little gone. My concession, I suppose, to living past the half century mark. I would have my camera in hand working hard to keep some record of the beauty I was privileged to witness. But I have to tell you, during the warmer months when I look at those pictures I do not remember the cold so some of the magic is lost. Maybe that is the real truth of two dimensions.

I wonder too, does the bear think about me? Does she dream of me during the winter while she sleeps the shortened days away? Does she hope that I am taking good care of myself as I do not have the luxury of a den? Are there times when she thinks that we might be connected? Native teachings will tell me that she does and I am happy with that knowledge, I hope she is as well.

Contemplation, death, Family, Life, Me, Native American Women

Rock and Roll Payday Memories

I spent the day on the road. Total miles logged was 230. When you spend that much time alone you have a tendency to think about things that normally you do have time to think about. Today I spent my time thinking about my parents. There are just certain things that trigger memories and then when I am driving I have time to let those thoughts keep running.

My mother died 3 years ago. Her passing was not easy. She was ill and she had suffered a heart attack. She lingered for two weeks in a hospital that was far from her home. She was not alone, one of her daughters and her husband were there with her. My father died several years prior to her passing. His passing was not easy. He suffered complications of diabetes after a surgery. He was not alone, two of his daughters, his sisters and several of his nieces and nephews were there when he passed.

I think of this and I am glad to have been an intimate part of that passing. I wish that I had been able to be there for my mother as well but I am glad that the same sister who stood with me while my father passed, stood by my mothers’ side as well. I can think of no greater expression of love than to be present at the passing of a loved one. To hold that hand and to say “I love you” or “thank you” or whatever is on your mind to say at that last moment.

The first thing I do is to plug in the ipod and cue up Janis Joplin. I play the entire uploaded album as loud as my factory installed speakers will allow while singing along with Janis and I smile because she was one of my mother’s favorite musicians. The I look for a convenience store, any one will do as long as they sell Payday candy bars. I buy the biggest one I can find and I eat the whole candy bar, savoring every bite and I smile because this was my dad’s favorite candy bar.

While I complete these little rituals I have established for myself I wonder about my parents. I wonder where they are? I wonder what important works they are working on these days? I wonder which of their heathen children they are watching closely today?

I hear so many people lament over the loss of a loved one that spend so much of their lives espousing their belief in a Creator and an afterlife that promises to be so much better than this life we live on this world but when push comes to shove…what they actually believe is far from what they have espoused. The absolute lack of faith explains so much to me.

For me, blaring Janis Joplin and wolfing down a Payday candy bar are the traditions that I hope I am passing down to my own daughter who someday will face these things. Someday she will think of me. I trust that she will just play the music she knows I love and eat a candy bar that was my favorite and smiles knowing that my new adventure has begun. I hope she wonders what I am up to and I trust she knows that I am having a blast.

She will then take everything that I have given her and pass those things on to her daughter and that makes me so happy. I know deep in my heart that my parents are happy about this as well, whatever they are doing today.

Contemplation, Life, Me, Native American Women

I got this…..

When we were young we did crazy things. We tried new things. Sometimes we were really excited about what we were up to and sometimes we were just a bundle of nerves hoping the outcome was just a little bit successful.

I say these things because I am here again, although not nearly as young as I would like to be. Mostly I am excited but my nerves are starting to vibrate.

I can honestly say that I make my own decisions and I know this so I know that whatever comes of my choices now are of my own doing. I cannot help but hope that this does not turn out like my first meatloaf, as small as a pound of butter but weighed as much as a brick of gold…it was so bad we could not eat it and in those days we ate anything. Of course, I was not alone in that creation nor was I a cook and I am happy to say that over the years I have improved my cooking skills and these days my meatloaf is quite tasty.

The toughest choice I have ever had to make in my life I made in fear. Years later, looking back at the course of my life, if asked, I can answer that my only regret being that I did not give myself enough credit. I was stronger than I thought at that time but I was young. Had I chosen the other road, I would have been just fine. Hindsight being 20/20 and all that.

I have been working on this manifestation stuff, like most people I know, needing more money than I have. Out of the blue my caseload doubles. Well, the opportunity was presented to me, excited and scared I said yes. As the poster child for the Procrastinators of America there is potential here for some real disaster. As a master manifestor-in-training…this will be interesting to say the least as I am sure that my paperwork did not just double, I think it quadrupled.

I just need to remember now that I am stronger than I give myself credit for and that having taken this particular road, I will be fine…I got this!

Contemplation, Life, Me, Native American Women

Skeins of Life

I wish that crocheting really was relaxing. I sit down with a skein of yarn and I dream of big things…pretty things…useful things. Truth be told, I know one stitch. The “granny square”. It’s a cool stitch to be sure but there are times when I would like to crochet a different pattern.

Rather than lament about my inability I will be glad that I can work that granny square into some pretty awesome afghans given all the modern colors they can do yarn in these days.

I listen to other women talk about how relaxing it is to sit and crochet. It is not so for me. I don’t know why but I attack the yarn, crochet hook in hand, with that same attitude I attack most projects I get involved in….keep going until it is done. My shoulders are a bunched mess of muscle, my fingers ache from holding the crochet hook in one hand that the yarn in the other. My eyes burn from keeping careful watch on the number of stitches I am whipping up as I go.

I took up some old broken tile that needs to be replaced to day, I walked two miles, I cooked three meals, I folded some canvas tarps that needed to be folded (those suckers are heavy) and I did dishes that equaled the cooking I did. After all of these chores were done I could finally sit down and had a chance to relax….but nooOOOooo.

Why do I crochet then? Good question. I like the yarn. I feel the challenge calling after I have taken a skein and rolled it into a ball. Giant-ass ball of yarn staring at me, daring me to make it into something.

I think all of my kids have afghans now, probably most of my grandkids and both of my dogs. I don’t know who needs this afghan but it will be here when the new owner walks into my house. I will feel good when it is done. I will know that I met the challenge thrown out to me. I will have used my talents to the best of my ability…limited as they are. It’s a granny thing, I hear……the making of afghans.

getting in shape, Life, Me, Native American Women

Not very Brave

I had hoped that by this day I would be 1) a non-smoker and 2) could swim a mile without stopping. Here is where I am-can’t claim either. Is that sad?

I was talking to a friend and we were discussing her life and her life choices. She said “I wish I was strong enough, maybe someday I will be that strong”. I told her then that she was strong enough, she proved that everyday. She was a divorced mother of two, raising her babies without any help at all from her ex. That she had strength and she exhibited plenty of it, everyday. I said “what you need is to be brave”…brave enough to tell him (her ex) NO when she needed to. Like when he showed up on her doorstep unannounced and started telling her how everything was going to be. She was very happy with me for telling her she was strong and decided that being brave was something she could definitely work on.

This is, I have decided, where I am as well. The first of the year came around and for a week prior I was thinking about how I was not going to buy cigs anymore. Then the actual 1st came up and I did not stop smoking. I know that this is so bad for me. I know that if I could expand my lungs a bit further I could accomplish a bit more, physically. I have the strength required for the commitment, I lack the bravery required to actually stop. What will I do when I think I need to smoke? What will I do with my hands? How much more will I eat when I can no longer hold that cigarette between my fingers? These are not hard questions…just a little scary when I get to the nitty-gritty of actually getting things done.

I also had decided that since I ended the year able to swim 1/2 mile without stopping that if I kept at it, by the time my birthday came around (end of January) I should be able to swim an entire mile (70 lengths of the pool) without stopping. I had my schedule all mapped out on the calendar. I would swim every Monday, Wednesday and Friday and keep adding a few laps each week and…ta-da…by the end of the month….goal accomplished. But work has been constant and I am far enough behind that it is just too easy to use it as an excuse to not leave my house to head to the pool. Then I actually made it to the pool one day this week, mistimed “open lap” by 30 minutes and did not bring any regular workout clothing with me. I decided just to take a shower, head upstairs and hang upside down on the inversion table for a few minutes. I totally counted it as a full workout seeing how I took my gym bag to the gym and changed clothes during that time. Needless to say, I have not increased the number of laps I can swim.

I have to admit, I am disappointed in myself. I have managed to almost get caught up with my paperwork for my job but not to get my personal goals one step closer to ideal. I will be 52 at the end of January. I thought about this stuff all day today. It is almost midnight (EST) and I am just finishing up my work for the day. At some point I will have to be brave enough to make me my number one priority.

This is something that I can actually work on….

Contemplation, Life, Native American Women

Mirror, mirror…

I found out that a young man I know will spend the next 45 years of his life in prison. I am troubled. My exact words to another friend was “I hate seeing our young men suffer so much”.

I understand the penalty for the crime. I understand why a crime like this was committed. I understand why supporters of this young man are so very upset. These are not my problem, these things I understand.

I have said to more than one person, do not take anything I tell you as gospel. Take everything I tell you to prayer. Ask God, ask Him is I am right. Ask Him if I am telling you the truth. I say this to people because most people have become so very lazy, so much like sheep….just following along with what everyone else is doing without thinking for themselves. I find this to be troubling, to say the least.

My problem is trying to understand why our young men choose to suffer so much when it is needless. There are choices to be made and all choices you make bear consequences you must pay. Some choices are easy and some choices are right. Unfortunately the easy choice is not always the right choice. Often times the right choice is most difficult and that’s where the thinking ends, no further exploration of consequences. The end result? Rarely is it the happy ending you were hoping for.

My next question was “what can we do to help?”. My friend said, “I wish prayer was the answer”. I liked that answer, he was honest. Prayer obviously is not “the answer”. if it were then all of our friends and family would be happy and healthy and rich and full of life. There is a missing key, I think.

Yes, you know what I am going to say….making the right choice. That part is on you. I know that if I want my life to be happy, if I want to be healthy then I must make those choices that end in those consequences. If I want a different end then those things I mentioned then all I have to do is make different choices. So simple. Please notice that I did not say ‘so easy’….because it is not.

I told my friend that there was one thing we could do immediately and consistently and that is to be an example of not suffering so looks like. Be an example to others of what making good choices looks like. Be the mirror for someone who is looking for that one person who is not paying consequences of bad decisions.

The good thing about being a willing example is that it does not mean you are perfect or that you think you are perfect. It simply means that you are ok with others looking closely at your life (today, not your past life) and seeing that you are making choices that bear consequences you are proud to bear.

I cannot make choices for you, as much as you would like for that to happen. I cannot bear consequences caused by your bad choices, those are yours to own. But I will be an example that you can look at when you wonder what happens if you make the right choice over the easy choice. I will continue to pray for you so that as you make your choices you know that you are not alone when facing those hard choices.

I know that I am not perfect and I am just fine with that assessment of me but I do like what I see when I look into my mirror.

Life, Me, Native American Women

That Little Girl Within

Yeah, you can hang that excuse up right now. We know you too well to allow you to continue to try to use that line on us…”that little girl in me…”. Just let it go. I know that there was a time when you did not know that you were operating from some serious hurt that you carried from your childhood to today but we all know that it was more than a few years ago you saw what you were doing to yourself. More than a few years ago that you realized that the big hurt was causing you to make decisions a grown woman would not make. Instead, you were making your choices based on what that little hurt girl wanted.

Today you are making bad choices and every time we sit and talk and you start feeling like we are calling you out you run to that same excuse “the little girl in me says…”. It’s old. Let it go. The next time we have to have the same conversation (again) I might just knock you over the head with a wiffle ball bat. At the very least I will call you out and then I will make you stand. That’s right, stand, not as a little girl but as the woman you have become. She may not be the strongest person to be trying to have that same conversation with and you may not like having to stand on your own. Time to once again look into the mirror….oh I know, you hate that mirror. You hate to look and see what we all see because when you are sitting with that counsel of women who know, you cannot look into the mirror without seeing the truth of who you are.

Today begins the new year. A time, I realize, when we all sit and reflect and then think that we are going to do better, be better than we were last year. But we all also know the statistics of New Year’s day resolutions. I say, let’s just start the new year with a renewed commitment to be the women we are and then let’s move to the place where we are strongest as the year progresses.

I am filling my life with women who are strong. I am filling my life with women who understand that old hurts helped to shape us but do not define us. I am filling my life with women who I want to emulate. I would like to include you in that circle but I leave the choice up to you.

Life

Is this my fight?

I have to admit, this is not a fight that I have been willing to jump into. They say “you have to pick your battles” and suppose that this can be true sometimes. There are some fights that I feel are worth getting into and some that I do not see that way. Of course, “they” say a lot of things and sometimes it is not wise to listen to any of “them”….

When Indianapolis finally got a minor league team to locate in the city I was truly excited. I love baseball. I played women’s slow pitch softball for 20 years. It is a game that I understand very well. The finesse of each position, the skill, the power…all of these, I get. Then came the task of giving the team a name. Like many cities do these days they opened it up in contest form to pick a name that best represented the city and the pride that would become the focal point of all the money everyone planned on being able to make off having another sports team come into the city. I wasn’t involved in any of that. I just remember when it all happened because of the media that was reporting on the progress. The day finally arrived when they announced the name of “our” new team.

I cannot tell you how deflated I was to learn that in this day and age and political correctness that the city of Indianapolis decided that the Indianapolis Indians was the perfect name for a minor league baseball team. Needless to say, I have yet to enter the ballpark. I do not attend solely on principle.

I would rather drive to another state (Kentucky) and watch that minor league team play. I don’t know for sure but the bats in Kentucky may be offended…I however, am not. This is a team I can support.

Now comes all the media hype about what Native people think about these major league and national league teams that have Native mascots and logos. Most recent, the debate of whether or not the name Redskins is offensive. Like I said in the beginning, this isn’t a fight that I have been willing to jump into. I cannot say that I think it is just fine, what team owners or cities want to name their teams, but I have to say that I do agree that using Native names is VERY offensive to me. While some teams try to keep the dignity that the name may portray in the front, at some point these names, no matter how majestic, do eventually become cartoons.

Can I laugh at myself in a cartoon, of course I can. But I am a grown person. I know who I am. I know who my People are. I know where I come from and I know where I am going. I am a Native American woman, are you?

I have yet to be asked by anyone, let alone someone who claims to have a say in keeping the name of a professional sports team in place, if I find any of the names they chose offensive.

I have to ask myself, who is being hurt most by letting someone call themselves “redskins”? Go ahead, call me a redskin to my face and see what happens. Do you have to know the origin of that particular phrase to understand how much or why it is offensive? Just like black people did not start calling themselves “niggers”, Native people did not start calling themselves “redskins”…skinning a body and noticing that the skins dries with a red tint is not something that any Native would have thought would make a great insult to another Native person. Do you teach your children what that means? I did.

When my child was very small I explained these things to her. As she grew she was not scarred by the name of a football team. She is not scarred by the name of a minor league baseball team. Is she offended? I supposed you will have to ask her to find if that particular Native woman is offended, just like you would have to ask me to find out what I think. As this subject has not been key conversation in any dinner setting with my family I cannot say that I can tell you if my family is offended. What I do know about my family, close and extended, is that some of us are serious sports fans. We enjoy sports from peewee league to pro…we play, we cheer, we coach, we support.

I will tell you, not that you asked, but yes, I am offended. Will I continue to watch NFL football, yes, I will. I love football, not like I love baseball, but I do love football. Will I ever be a Redskins fan, no I will not. I am offended by the name.

Life

Observing Men

I was thinking about this today…whether you were called to be a medicine man or you just want to be a medicine man really doesn’t matter to me. Of the two, neither is more important than the other. Of the two, one is more difficult to do than the other. I know men who have and or are doing one or the other and so I know this to be true.

Let’s say that I want to be a doctor. I understand from the time I decided to become a doctor that my school work matters so that I can be accepted to the best college. I know that the college work I do matters for the residency that I am looking for to come to fruition. I work my butt off for many years because I have a goal. I am driven in every area of my life based on the choice that I have made. It is the same for a man who wants to be a medicine man. The desire to be that means something. I have never known God to turn down a willing spirit, a willing servant. I think that any man who want to serve the People in this way will be a good medicine man.

If you have a calling to be that, a calling to be a preacher, a calling to be anything else that’s all it is…a calling. You still have to make the choice. This is the downfall of many men who have had strong callings to service. They feel the call in their spirits but they spend a lot of time and energy running from that call. They would rather drink or do drugs or run around doing anything but answering that call. The times that they do follow and act on the call bring amazing results to the people who they are called to help but instead of answering the call, they spend most of their time running from the call. A man can waste most of his life running from his calling. If and when he does answer then truly amazing things can happen.

You would think that having the calling would be the easy road but obviously making a choice of the path you want to follow is easier. This is not to say that men who have a calling and answer that call are not successful. Those are blessed men who work hard at passing on God’s blessing to others.

I see both…men who are called and men who just want to serve. Both do wonderful works. Each path is different and neither is better than the other. Somedays these are the things I think about…

death, Family, Life, Me

Been a Slow Day

Yeah, I’m lying. My days are never slow. It just seemed that when it comes to writing I have been procrastinating and since I don’t admit to being a procrastinator I decided to say it has been slow.

I had been thinking that we had to take time out of regular life to bury my mother-in-law. She lost her fight with Alzheimer’s. But I realized that I was thinking wrong…taking the time to bury a loved one is part of regular life. It is no different than when a new life comes into the family.

We moved her into our home a year ago, when it became just way too expensive to have her continue to live in an assisted living home. My husband quit his job to stay home and take care of her.

Our lives are busy, have been busy for many years now. Our children are all grown and gone which left us plenty of time to do other things. The busyness did not slow down once she moved in. We had to rearrange who did what when but we continued to stay busy.

Several friends offered to help us during these months so that we did not just unplug from life. They would come over and sit with us and they would send us out to dinner while they sat with her to make sure that she stayed safe. Our friends were and continue to be wonderful blessings in our lives.

Then the fateful day was approaching and we had hospice come in to help us out with those final details. We called all of those friends who had spent so much time with us. We wanted to make sure that they had to opportunity to say goodbye. They had taken the time to become her family and they deserved the chance to be there in the end…if they so desired.

She passed and we started the process of fulfilling her last wishes. One of the friends come over one morning for coffee and she sat in tears thanking me for allowing her to be part of the entire process. She had been sheltered her entire life from death and she did not know what it felt like to say goodbye to a loved one in such a beautiful way. She and her (then) fiancé came into the process with us. They are married now and begin their lives as a family with this beautiful experience. I am happy to have had the opportunity to share.

I am constantly amazed at the people that I know who claim to be spiritual in their everyday life and when something like this happens they fall apart, not only falling apart but getting angry at God for the loss. I don’t get it. How do you profess to believe in such things as an afterlife and then get angry at God when a loved one gets to go home?

My children, my husband, my brother-in-law, myself…all sad to be sure…but also all very happy that Mom-Grandma was no longer suffering, no longer not knowing who her family is, no longer being alone. She is surrounded now by complete, total, eternal love. I cannot be anything but happy about that…happy for her. We will miss her, we already miss her. We both walk into the bedroom looking for her, still….

We had the traditional burial, her wishes fulfilled. We notified all the family we could of her passing. Now we prepare for her Memorial. This one is for those beautiful friends who gave their hearts to her, claimed her as their own Grandmother for a short time. We will share those stories that we dared not share at the funeral home (she cussed a lot) and we will eat…holy smokes she loved to eat and we will do so in her honor!

And now I have taken the time to sit and write this final chapter in our adventures with her. Now I can stop procrastinating about writing and just get on with my life. I did so without tears (progress).

Who knows? There may be more to write about later, depends on what stories are shared this weekend.

firstnationwoman

First Nations Women are the Nations' first ladies

Category Archives: Life