Where I was (at least part of it)

I don’t think it matters precisely what it is that eventually pulls us to our history or roots although I like to think that at some point most of us do get drawn to it. When I look back at the span of about 12 years of my life it isn’t one certain situation or one certain time period that drew me to it; it’s been a bit of a steady march, if you will. That being said I can recall distinct legs of the march that did have a little more significance in relation to wanting to understand more.

I often have odd dreams (yes, I realize that odd dreams are not unique to just me) which initially are usually dismissed by me as irrelevant to everything. Some of them come back up though and appear to have more relevance as a result of some real life event or situation that happens later. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream in which Jen popped up…smack dab in the middle of accidental dreamy images/events completely unconnected to her. To be quite honest with exception of noticing it when I woke up the next morning, I didn’t give it a ton of thought. However today I once again ran across one of my favorite pictures of us and consequently cried for a while. The immedate connection was obvious to me; clearly it happens to be one of those times when I have some ‘dealing with it’ to do (to be clear I do not think that we ever truly get ‘done’ dealing with the death of a loved one; grief is weird and sometimes it will hide for a while but eventually I think we are reminded of it again and deal with it some more). There was another connection which at first wasn’t as immediately obvious to me.

I think it has been times of strife or sadness which, either purposely or coincidentally, have drawn me a little closer to wanting to ‘get’ part of where I came from. Thinking of both sides is a bit daunting so I started with Native American (there’s still Norwegian to go). In my perception of American culture (which is obviously not necessarily “correct”) when someone dies we usually have a ceremony to remember them right after their passing but don’t necessarily tend to continue to have ceremonies to remember people that aren’t here anymore. Some of us do and I have had personal experience with this but for the most part I don’t see that it’s necessarily an expected part of the culture to do so.

As of late I’ve been chatting more with an Uncle on my Dad’s side which alone is clearly awesome, but even better he has provided me with some starting points online to understanding more about that side of my culture. And I’ve actually been reading about it. For a very simplified narrative on our history courtesy of the ever dubious, Wikipedia:

The Ojibwa (also Ojibway or Ojibwe) or Chippewa (also Chippeway) is the largest group of Native Americans-First Nations north of Mexico, including Métis. They are the third largest in the United States, surpassed only by Cherokee and Navajo^{[citation needed]}. They are equally divided between the United States and Canada. Because they were formerly located mainly around Sault Ste. Marie, (Sault Ste. Marie is where my people hail from!!!) at the outlet of Lake Superior, the French referred to them as Saulteurs. Ojibwa who subsequently moved to the prairie provinces of Canada have retained the name Saulteaux

As a major component group of the Anishinaabe peoples—which includes the Algonquin, Nipissing, Oji-Cree, Odawa and the Potawatomi—the Ojibwe peoples number over 56,440 in the U.S., living in an area stretching across the north from Michigan to Montana. Another 77,940 of main-line Ojibwa, 76,760 Saulteaux and 8,770 Mississaugas, in 125 bands, live in Canada, stretching from western Quebec to eastern British Columbia. They are known for their birch bark canoes, sacred birch bark scrolls, the use of cowrie shells, wild rice, copper points, and for their use of gun technology from the British to defeat and push back the Dakota nation of the Sioux (1745). (bold emphasis is mine)

Which is all fine and dandy but not effectively exciting in my opinion. The enchanting (at least to me) and most relevant (also at least to me) information comes from actual tribal members. According to Fred Harrington jiibaykwe (ghost suppers) are ceremonies that originated from when tribes would move the remains of loved ones from temporary to permanent burial grounds (link: religion, under funerals). On the same website, if you click on the link that says ‘ghost suppers’ more is revealed about the custom. What I took out of what I read is that it is to remember and honor others that have passed regardless of when. Additionally the same link also describes a custom on Halloween to remember those that have passed. In contrast, in American culture the custom on Halloween is to dress up children to go house to house and get candy which in relation seems (at least to me) to lack any spiritual meaning (but that is also my own judgment). If one does not have children and is of the mind to celebrate and intake spirits (or not) one dresses up and attends parties of various kinds. Also, in my own judgment to lack real meaning.

Maybe what I’m selfishly looking for is a means to remember people that I miss and are not here anymore in a way that I can perceive as not so sad (for example, not having to have it smack me in the face all of a sudden and spend a whole afternoon in tears but instead remember and deal with it in a way that honors them more and is less about me). (Is it possible that I have an ulterior motive to learning about my culture and if so is that bad?) But then that also means I’m continuing to attach the ultimate sadness to someone’s death all on my own when I could instead be attaching a different emotion to it. It’s all heady stuff to be quite sure and I’m not even sure I’m getting close to what it all really means.

On a sort of side note, but not really, if you were to check out the website and check under the ‘ethics’ link, specifically under “first philosophy, to women” you would find what (again sort of selfishly) touches my heart most about my culture. Word for word (part of it at least) would say the following:

The cycle of life for the woman is baby, girl, woman, and grandmother. These are the four directions of life. She has been given by natural-laws the ability to reproduce life. The most sacred of all things is life. Therefore, all men should treat her with dignity and respect. Never was it our way to harm her mentally or physically. Indian men were never abusers. We always treated our women with respect and understanding.

Yes, I get that nowadays (and obviously before-adays) this does not always happen. The important part of it is that culturally it was such that women were respected/honored and not abused which is in clear contrast to how ‘American’ culture began and how it sadly, often plays out today. On this note alone, if only we could go back a ways and start over. But at this point, as a woman that is part of this culture I am sort of obligated to go forward facilitating this idea whereas in certain situations before I allowed abuse in various forms. Not that I necessarily needed this information to carry this out in my life having been through it before, but having the knowledge and caring about it just makes it that more important to me.

Thanks Jen, for a lot of things.  

 

 

That’s completely it…

I’ve had it.

I’m fed up with feeling overwhelmed; I’ve grown miserably tired of feeling as if there are five thousand plates in the air that I can’t quite keep hold of; I can’t handle feeling so stressed out all the time. I think this is part of what this past Sunday helped me to realize. When I was at the women’s gathering this past weekend I realized that I couldn’t remember a time before that when I felt calm, peaceful, relaxed.

I can’t take it anymore. I can’t even answer text messages when I get them because it’s just too much. How pathetic is that? At work, there are various huge piles of paperwork on my desk and when I try to focus in order to sit down and take care of it all I get overwhelmed and weird and end up not being able to do a single thing. The fact that work is so busy at this time wouldn’t be so bad if when I got home it was calm and peaceful. But because there are a thousand things I have to do at home too, it’s not so peaceful.

For instance; I get overwhelmed when it’s time to walk the dogs. Ridiculous. I do not want the walking of my dogs to be the bain of my existence because, well, I love them.

When I come home and look at the various piles of personal/apt managing paperwork I have here, the same thing happens here that happens at work. I get so overwhelmed that I just can’t do anything. And then I end up where I’m at now…too much stuff to do…all at once.

For the next few weeks I am cancelling plans that are purely social. People may get upset, or annoyed and I realize that. But I just can’t do this any longer. It’s gotten progressively worse over the last few months, the whole trying to have two jobs, going to school, seeing my family, and seeing friends. It’s all piled up and now I have to sort it all out, and designate where I fit in again.

If I fail to do this I anticipate that I will probably get to the point where I get so fed up that I walk out on my job (NOT a desirable outcome in many ways), quit managing the apartments, and slowly become homeless. Not to mention giving up on school, which I refuse to do at this point. I’m too close to being done with at least this level.  

I do not wish to go crazy, and that’s why I have to slow down for a bit.

Suicide, and talking; full circle

There is a right way to tell a story. There is a right way to take care of ourselves. Most of us, including myself, fail to do either.

When most of us tell stories they seem fairly centered around ourselves. Here and there the stories do involve others, but mostly they involve others purely as it pertains to ourselves. Keep in mind, these are very general statements and I do realize that. They’re meant to be general because overall, this seems to be the way it is in American “culture”.

Saturday I drug myself out of bed early in order to spend the morning walking for suicide prevention. After hopping a cab with my unruly puppy (I had woken up early, but certainly not early enough to take the bus) I arrived to greet my sister, Jen’s family, and our friends. It was comforting to be there with them for a while, and having a purpose for a few hours. The tears stayed away until the closing ceremonies at which time we were all encouraged to hold hands during the last part of the speaker’s words. Ironically I ended up on one side of Rachel holding hands with her. It was ironic (not in the true sense of the world obviously) due to the long standing grudge I’d held against her. Jen eventually thought it sort of funny and she would laugh it off. Odd how certain things tend to lose their importance after one single thing changes everything. I was glad to be there with her simply because, she cried a bit too. (P.S. The walk raised $40,000)

Today was spent entirely in the company of women. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday. When I first agreed to accompany my sister to the women’s gathering at Daybreak a mental snapshot immediately clicked and it included quaintsy crafts and chatting. Incorrect on my part, I admit. It was so much more and precisely what I needed.

We started out with a talking circle. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that when they announced that this was the plan I had no clue what to expect. What I participated in was this:

Everyone sits in a circle, generally with men to the North and women to the South. The conductor of the circle will generally sit in the East. A token, such as a feather or a special talking stick, is passed clockwise around the circle. As each person receives the token, they may speak for as long as they wish, including addressing a topic brought up by another in the circle. When they have finished, they pass the token along. If someone does not wish to speak, they simply pass the token. The token may go around several times; when everyone has had the opportunity to speak as many times as they wish, the conductor ends the circle.

We didn’t operate with a token today but it wasn’t necessary. There is an understanding of how things go and that is followed by everyone:

1) Only one person speaks at a time – only the person holding the feather or talking stick may speak. Dialogues are not part of the circle, as they can become confrontational.

2) Introduce yourself – it is polite to introduce yourself in the first round. Use your spirit name, if you have one; otherwise, use your given name.

3) Speak from the heart – the speaker should address the circle from the heart, and may speak for as long as they need to, with respect for the time of others.

4) Listen with respect – all people except the speaker listen attentively and give support to the speaker. Listening with the heart allows you to hear the true intent beneath what the speaker is saying. Listen in the way you expect others to hear you.

5) What is said in the circle stays in the circle – never repeat anything that is said within the circle, unless you have the permission of the speaker.

And the elders speak first, as they did today. It started with smudging which is a cleansing/spiritual ritual. The overall point of today was to focus on and talk about caring for ourselves as women. Only, the way storytelling goes is such that the women didn’t sit there and talk about x, y, and z on ways to care for the self. Stories included how families and tribes lived together and interacted; neighbors/cousins/friends loved so much as to add such a great chapter in someone’s life that they would remember decades later in order to pass on to someone else.

I met a woman who is in the process of putting her and her son’s life back together and is only nine days out of inpatient treatment. I met a woman that reminded me that where I’m at right now is maybe not the place that I want to continue being. Prior to applying to THS I actually sent a resume to the Seattle Indian Health Board. THS happened to call first and I accepted the job. A short time thereafter SIHB called me to ask if I could go in to interview and I told them that I had already accepted a job. I should have interviewed just for the heck of it, but I chose not to. I’m going to send them my resume again.

The issue of knowing loved ones that have committed suicide came up today when we were all talking and that’s when I realized that I actually belong in circles like that. Up until I went back to Michigan for our pow-pow I always thought that I didn’t really have a right to claim any part of Native American culture because, I don’t look Indian…out of my three sisters I think I look it least of all. In Michigan though, plenty of my Aunts and Uncles were what my Grandmother would have joked, blue-eyed blond haired Indians. I still didn’t really connect to it after that. Today I did. And things are sort of full circle.

Where did it go awry?

I can’t help it; I just keep reading this book and I can not stop (Promiscuities Naomi Wolf). If I could stay home the rest of the week to finish it I would…but of course, I can’t.

In Western culture’s debate, images of female sexualized nakedness are assumed, by progressives and conservatives and apolitical concerned mothers alike, to be innately degrading to women. The trouble with this is that it locates the degradation of the women within the sex or the nakedness itself, rather than in the distorted value assigned to that sex and that nakedness.

In our culture, women’s nudity is typically seen as exposing women-in the sense of making them vulnerable-for the sake of more powerful, less vulnerable men. But, as Havelock Ellis argued in his Studies in the Psychology of Sex, other cultures have organized female nakedness very differently.

This is true; I have often become caught up in it myself to be quite frank. When I say ‘it’ I mean specifically, the idea that the purpose of the nakedness of women can not equate to anything other than an unequal intent. I’ve gotten caught up in that idea and it’s made me angry many times. Somewhere in my intellect, I know better than that though. My profession has taught me that one of the most important skills I can have is that of being able to reframe something…an idea, a situation, etc. Many of us have learned to see sexuality in this light through no fault of our own; we’ve learned to see it in a space and time that is two dimensional, when in true reality it can be better described as four dimensional. Our culture is not our fault however, once we’re aware of what our culture has ingrained our choice thereafter is our responsibility.

In other cultures there are defined rites of passage intended to allow a person a more firm grasp on what is happening to them physically. Per Navajo tradition:

When a Navajo girl reaches puberty (the time of her first menstruation), she undergoes a four day ceremony called Kinaalda which signifies her transformation from childhood into womanhood. The ceremony is centered around the Navajo myth of Changing woman, the first woman on Earth who was able to bear children. The myth says that Changing Woman performed the first Kinaalda and that the ceremony gave her the ability to have children. Because of this, all Navajo girls must also undergo the ceremony so that they will grow into strong women who can also have children…

Throughout the ceremony, the young woman will perform tasks on others that she is having performed on herself. This is because the Navajo believe that during a sacred ceremony, the participant gains the power to help others in the same way they are being helped. During the Kinaalda, this means that the young girl will be ‘molded’ by her mother and then she will also ‘mold’ others in the tribe and so on.

The key word for me there is help. The general way that girls become women in Western culture pales in comparison to an example like this one. Unfortunately the norm is not a ceremony marking a significant change as well as teaching in a proud way about all that comes with it; it is usually masked in embarassment and uncomfortable conversations, if one is lucky. Not to mention the images, ideas, and inferences from culture at large that a girl has already been taking in since a much younger age.

Thursday Thirteen #8

Thirteen wonderful quotes

1. If you and I are having a single thought of violence or hatred against anyone in the world at this moment, we are contributing to the wounding of the world. Deepak Chopra
2. It’s very different because the Indians live as if they are their souls and Americans live as if they are their egos. Ram Dass
3. Were it not a fact of experience that supreme values reside in the soul, psychology would not interest me in the least, for the soul would then be nothing but a miserable vapor. Carl Jung
4. Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit. Khalil Gibran
5. There is often a big disparity between the way in which we perceive things and the way things really are. 14th Dalai Lama
6. One of the most difficult things is not to change society – but to change yourself. Nelson Mandela
7. The strong man is not the good wrestler; the strong man is only the one who controls himself when he is angry. Muhammad
8. Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.
   Maya Angelou
9. And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more. Erica Jong
10. Because I am a woman, I must make unusual efforts to succeed. If I fail, no one will say, “She doesn’t have what it takes.” They will say, “Women don’t have what it takes.” Clare Boothe Luce
11. I think it’s about time we voted for senators with breasts. After all, we’ve been voting for boobs long enough. Clarie Sargent
12. I wish someone would have told me that, just because I’m a girl, I don’t have to get married. Marlo Thomas
13. I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman. Anais Nin

View other Thursday Thirteen Participants

Kelly, Penelope Anne