Returning home is always a blessing. Last weekend I went home to the Omaha Tribe's Harvest Celebration Pow-wow in Macy, NE. This years pow-wow was rumored to have been canceled due to funding issues, however what I seen upon arrival was a full celebration going strong.
Found my mother, Alice Saunsoci, who was sitting behind my brothers' drum group, Rock Bottom. She looked beautiful and relaxed in her light colored regalia and she was extremely happy to see me and the kids. She gave me a hug and kiss and told me to set my chair next to hers.
I sat in my star spangled pow-wow chair for a time mesmerized by the dancing and singing. Kids took off right away to see whatever there was to see. I had told them, as we were traveling back to Macy, about my escapades when I was little. I used to run all over the pow-wow grounds with my cousins chasing the Moore Boys from Pawnee, Oklahoma. So I knew the entire place like my own palm. Lots of good memories there. Heh-heh.
After a time, I became thirsty and got up to go in search for something to drink. I stopped suddenly when I heard someone call me name. My cousin/sister Mary waved me over to where she was sitting. She stood up and gave me a hug as soon as I walked up to her.
"What? No famous writers with you this time?" she asked playfully.
"Nope. No writers, actors, or producers came along with me this time around!" I responded with a smile, "Just me!"
I let my eyes roam the crowd as we stood and talked. Everywhere I looked were familiar faces of my Omaha relatives, with a few unknown ones scattered here and there.
The atmosphere was so very warm and carnival like. It felt good to be amongst my tribe once again.
Mary's question, though said in jest, sent me into a contemplative state. As I walked the midway, continuing my search for some thirst quenching concoction, I realized that the last time I'd been to our pow-wow was in 2007. And, yes, I was accompanied by Christopher Cartmill, the writer/playwright, Mary was referring to. Chris and I had forged an unbreakable bond of friendship and understanding that year. He became my brother.
2007 was about change. Then 2008 was a blur. And 2009?
Contemplation #1: This year has been about rebuilding a life...
We've been in Lincoln for little over a year now and have a comfortable little home in a quiet neighborhood surrounded by good people. It's exactly what I had hoped for.
I heard the M.C., Chiefy, (everyone knows Chiefy!) announce that there was going to be two intertribals before the next special. I hurried back to my mom and we went out to dance in the arena. One of the intertribal songs was sung by my brothers, Omaha Lodge. As they sang, I felt my spirit fill with happiness so I started dancing with a lot of energy. I even felt some tears slip down my face at some point. This was exactly where I needed to be in that moment.
When the song was over and we found our seats again, my kids came bounding over to me smiling like big puppies. They all had snow cones that their Aunty Alison had bought for them. They each said that they were having a good time, then they bounded off once again to who knows where.
Contemplation #2: My kids' happiness is the mainstay of my life...
I have been totally focused on helping my kids adjust to all the changes in their lives. I have been relentless about building resiliency in them and within myself. Standing strong no matter what. A description of resiliency goes like this:
"Resilience is a term used to describe a set of qualities that foster a process of successful adaptation and transformation despite risk and adversity (Benard, 1995). Persons who are resilient have the capacity to withstand, overcome, or recover from serious threat (Masten, 2001). Simply put, resilience is the ability to bounce back from adversity."
My kids and I have been through some extreme test of adversity in the past year.
A year ago, we stood in a place where we had no home. We faced a situation that held a great threat to our well-being. And we survived it.
Contemplation #3: Our family resiliency is based on our spirituality...
As the pow-wow wound up for the year, the endnote was on a happy one. Everyone was happy! Seeing my kids happy and having fun at our pow-wow brought me great joy, which I am very thankful for! Spending time with my mom also brought us happiness.
This year has been all about building our resiliency through our spirituality. I have been dedicated to going to sweats and sundance, and to learning the Lakota ceremony songs and then singing them to my kids. They are Lakota. They frequently attend sweats and ceremonies with me. They know what I pray for...just as they know what I work on everyday.
In everyday life, I strive to exemplify those virtues that Native people hold dear: Humility, compassion, respect, and fortitude. There are others, of course, but I just wanted to mention those ones right now.
I dream at times when I am still awake. Twilight dreams between the night and day. Glimpses of the strands of time, if there are such things, though I've heard that they are called "strings."
We drove home the next day after pow-wow. Refreshed and ready to began anew. Our little home was waiting for us just as we had left it the day before.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
A Journey to the Heart...My Home
Many have heard me recite this poem in the past year. It is an epic about the migration of many tribes from the East but it is also my own story. It took me many years to find it and by doing so, I am continuing to walk this journey to the heart, it's unending...
A Journey to the Heart…My Home
By Renee Sans Souci
Dedicated to Bawdwayidun (Eddie Benton-Benai), Grand Chief of the Three Fires Midewiwin Lodge
It actually began millennia ago…that journey
Brave ancestors walked these pure paths unbridled by self-doubt or shame
We knew as Midewiwin people even then that there was no beginning or no end
And anything was possible we were told…
My grandmothers and grandfathers once trod those sunrise shores
Known as the Atlantic in this new language we speak now
We lived in the hills and the mountains amidst unquenched beauty
Rooted like medicine to a way of life that beheld all of Creation
Our lives were filled with the wonder of the Earth and the Sky
That swirled around us like the protective aroma of cedar and sage
The days were redolent with the offerings of our sacred tobacco
A gift from the Creator for the intercession of All Our Relations
We thrived during this quiescent time at the height of our splendor
Until the seven prophets arrived to prepare us for the coming flood
They sent out a call in urgent proclamation up and down the coastline
Beseeching us to leave our beloved homes for the inland breathe of life
Many were importuned to join this Great Migration to follow the Sacred Shell
So we poured out from the land of the Morning Star People tribe upon tribe
And like a surging river we flowed together with one mind, body, and spirit
Destined to reach the grounds of Manomin the food that grows on top of the water
Out of the woodlands we heard the reverberations of the Little Boy Water Drum across the Great Lakes
Then it came to pass that my people chose a route south of the streaming movement
So we took up the Little Boy and pooled in the Ohio Basin for several generations seeking the plentitude that was offered there
During the era of the lively multi-tribal trading complexes known as the Angel Site and Cahokia
Eventually we proceeded onward through the magnificent Michizeebee along with our Ponca, Quapaw, Osage, and Konze relatives
Where we emerged as the Omaha or those who traveled upstream against the current
Adopting new ways of life we absorbed knowledge from our relatives the Iowa, the Arikara, the Lakota, and the Pawnee
Interspersed in our lives were especially the teachings of the Midewiwin and the Little Boy
Always in motion the people of Turtle Island reflect the teeming movement of the stars
Our energy pulsed in time with the Cosmos, the Four Directions, and the atomic subparticles of the earth
The Omahas referred to this lifeforce energy that permeated everything around us as Wakonda
In this way Wakonda helped us to discern and develop relationships with all the first beings who are the natural elements
Our new source of life was our relative the river Nishude aka the Smoky Missouri
Moving downriver along this watercourse we became known as exemplary peacemakers and agrarians
Experts in settling conflicts and in harvesting corn, squash and beans, the Three Sisters treasured by us all
Earth People, Sky People, our tribal circle was our law, our homes, and our relatives
Generations marked the passage of time with the turning of the sun and the appearance of the moon
Until the light skinned race arrived as was foretold by the seven prophets in the land of the Morning Star People
The first were the Voyageurs, traders from the French Nation, who came bearing gifts of good will
They married into the Omaha and assimilated with an ease as if they had always been a part of us
The others who came after the French brought diseases that ravaged our villages and brought us to the edge of obliteration
The few who survived witnessed their proud lifestyle vanish in the smoke of meaningless words
Millions of acres of land were ceded through treaties made with the United States in false promises of the reservations
Only to find that as wards of the government we were no longer in control of our very breath of life it seemed
The following are words from the Omaha, White Horse:
“Now the face of all the land is changed
and sad. The living creatures are gone.
I see the land desolate, and I suffer
unspeakable sadness. Sometimes I wake in
the night and feel as though I should suffocate
from the pressure of this awful feeling of
loneliness."
So said White Horse on August 13,1912.
My Grandparents and parents lived through the aftermath of such devastation with great resiliency
They were products of an education that strove to silence their beautiful voices and break apart our unending traditions
At a time when we lost so much including the heartbeat of the Little Boy Waterdrum
We were visited by the Sounding Voice, Bawdwayidun, of the Lac Courte Oreille Ojibwe Nation in 1958
My Grandmother was a member of the Shell Society, our midewiwin lodge that began in the time of the Seven Prophets
She was one of those who feted Bawdwayidun and offered him gifts to hear the voice of the Little Boy once again
In those songs were contained the history of our migration which had been dormant memories in my elders’ hearts
Rivulets of my Grandmother’s tears ran unchecked down her face in longing for the original teachings of the midewiwin
Tears are as strong as prayers and leave a trail in unborn hearts that have yet to beat in the future lives of our children
In 1962, I was born, four years after that historic meeting between the Sounding Voice and the Shell Society
What was forgotten by the time I grew up were the connections between all Native people of this land
Unawakened as I was for many years I wondered why I was living in such a barren state of belief
I felt isolated in my own unbearable sadness living through such heartbreak that I thought would never end
But a sound from a distance came my way and I heard my name addressed in a language unfamiliar to my ears
Yet the drumming was quite familiar and it spoke to my wounded heart through ancient beats from earlier times
You belong to me, he said in a young voice, come this way and I will show you the lifeforce of your people
So I followed this calling without hesitation to the woodlands of the Ojibwe Nation
And there I was introduced to Bawdwayidun, the Sounding Voice of the Three Fires Midewiwin Lodge
Through Bawdwayidun I learned that for 50 years he kept the tears of my Grandmother close to his heart
Our tears mingle together now and mark my journey to the Little Boy who has welcomed me home to the Way of the Heart that is mine…
- Manitou Ishta Duhmoo Quay (Sacred Horse Woman)
“I’m just a human being trying to make it in a world that is very rapidly losing its understanding of being human" - John Trudell (Isanti Dakota)
“Find us Spirit Horses and teach us how to ride! With Seven Generations of promise at our side!” - From the song Spirit Horses by Annie Humphrey (Ojibwe)
A Journey to the Heart…My Home
By Renee Sans Souci
Dedicated to Bawdwayidun (Eddie Benton-Benai), Grand Chief of the Three Fires Midewiwin Lodge
It actually began millennia ago…that journey
Brave ancestors walked these pure paths unbridled by self-doubt or shame
We knew as Midewiwin people even then that there was no beginning or no end
And anything was possible we were told…
My grandmothers and grandfathers once trod those sunrise shores
Known as the Atlantic in this new language we speak now
We lived in the hills and the mountains amidst unquenched beauty
Rooted like medicine to a way of life that beheld all of Creation
Our lives were filled with the wonder of the Earth and the Sky
That swirled around us like the protective aroma of cedar and sage
The days were redolent with the offerings of our sacred tobacco
A gift from the Creator for the intercession of All Our Relations
We thrived during this quiescent time at the height of our splendor
Until the seven prophets arrived to prepare us for the coming flood
They sent out a call in urgent proclamation up and down the coastline
Beseeching us to leave our beloved homes for the inland breathe of life
Many were importuned to join this Great Migration to follow the Sacred Shell
So we poured out from the land of the Morning Star People tribe upon tribe
And like a surging river we flowed together with one mind, body, and spirit
Destined to reach the grounds of Manomin the food that grows on top of the water
Out of the woodlands we heard the reverberations of the Little Boy Water Drum across the Great Lakes
Then it came to pass that my people chose a route south of the streaming movement
So we took up the Little Boy and pooled in the Ohio Basin for several generations seeking the plentitude that was offered there
During the era of the lively multi-tribal trading complexes known as the Angel Site and Cahokia
Eventually we proceeded onward through the magnificent Michizeebee along with our Ponca, Quapaw, Osage, and Konze relatives
Where we emerged as the Omaha or those who traveled upstream against the current
Adopting new ways of life we absorbed knowledge from our relatives the Iowa, the Arikara, the Lakota, and the Pawnee
Interspersed in our lives were especially the teachings of the Midewiwin and the Little Boy
Always in motion the people of Turtle Island reflect the teeming movement of the stars
Our energy pulsed in time with the Cosmos, the Four Directions, and the atomic subparticles of the earth
The Omahas referred to this lifeforce energy that permeated everything around us as Wakonda
In this way Wakonda helped us to discern and develop relationships with all the first beings who are the natural elements
Our new source of life was our relative the river Nishude aka the Smoky Missouri
Moving downriver along this watercourse we became known as exemplary peacemakers and agrarians
Experts in settling conflicts and in harvesting corn, squash and beans, the Three Sisters treasured by us all
Earth People, Sky People, our tribal circle was our law, our homes, and our relatives
Generations marked the passage of time with the turning of the sun and the appearance of the moon
Until the light skinned race arrived as was foretold by the seven prophets in the land of the Morning Star People
The first were the Voyageurs, traders from the French Nation, who came bearing gifts of good will
They married into the Omaha and assimilated with an ease as if they had always been a part of us
The others who came after the French brought diseases that ravaged our villages and brought us to the edge of obliteration
The few who survived witnessed their proud lifestyle vanish in the smoke of meaningless words
Millions of acres of land were ceded through treaties made with the United States in false promises of the reservations
Only to find that as wards of the government we were no longer in control of our very breath of life it seemed
The following are words from the Omaha, White Horse:
“Now the face of all the land is changed
and sad. The living creatures are gone.
I see the land desolate, and I suffer
unspeakable sadness. Sometimes I wake in
the night and feel as though I should suffocate
from the pressure of this awful feeling of
loneliness."
So said White Horse on August 13,1912.
My Grandparents and parents lived through the aftermath of such devastation with great resiliency
They were products of an education that strove to silence their beautiful voices and break apart our unending traditions
At a time when we lost so much including the heartbeat of the Little Boy Waterdrum
We were visited by the Sounding Voice, Bawdwayidun, of the Lac Courte Oreille Ojibwe Nation in 1958
My Grandmother was a member of the Shell Society, our midewiwin lodge that began in the time of the Seven Prophets
She was one of those who feted Bawdwayidun and offered him gifts to hear the voice of the Little Boy once again
In those songs were contained the history of our migration which had been dormant memories in my elders’ hearts
Rivulets of my Grandmother’s tears ran unchecked down her face in longing for the original teachings of the midewiwin
Tears are as strong as prayers and leave a trail in unborn hearts that have yet to beat in the future lives of our children
In 1962, I was born, four years after that historic meeting between the Sounding Voice and the Shell Society
What was forgotten by the time I grew up were the connections between all Native people of this land
Unawakened as I was for many years I wondered why I was living in such a barren state of belief
I felt isolated in my own unbearable sadness living through such heartbreak that I thought would never end
But a sound from a distance came my way and I heard my name addressed in a language unfamiliar to my ears
Yet the drumming was quite familiar and it spoke to my wounded heart through ancient beats from earlier times
You belong to me, he said in a young voice, come this way and I will show you the lifeforce of your people
So I followed this calling without hesitation to the woodlands of the Ojibwe Nation
And there I was introduced to Bawdwayidun, the Sounding Voice of the Three Fires Midewiwin Lodge
Through Bawdwayidun I learned that for 50 years he kept the tears of my Grandmother close to his heart
Our tears mingle together now and mark my journey to the Little Boy who has welcomed me home to the Way of the Heart that is mine…
- Manitou Ishta Duhmoo Quay (Sacred Horse Woman)
“I’m just a human being trying to make it in a world that is very rapidly losing its understanding of being human" - John Trudell (Isanti Dakota)
“Find us Spirit Horses and teach us how to ride! With Seven Generations of promise at our side!” - From the song Spirit Horses by Annie Humphrey (Ojibwe)
Monday, April 20, 2009
Golden Feather...
One of my favorite songs by Robbie Robertson. Found this video on youtube. Lyrics are below...
Golden Feather by Robbie Robertson
I think I'll go on back to Shenandoah
she said that she'd meet me by the fork in the road
I jump start my one eyed Ford
I'm heading for the pow-wow
follow the red path that leads to you.
I gave my love a golden feather
I gave my love a heart of stone
and when you find a golden feather
it means you'll never lose your way back home.
Should I paint my face
should I pierce my skin
does this make me a pagan
sweating out my sins
we ate the sacred mushroom
and waded in the water
howling like coyotes
at the naked moon.
I gave my love a golden feather
I gave my love a heart of stone
and when you find a golden feather
it means you'll never lose your way back home.
In the autumn night
when there's no wind blowin'
I could hear the stars falling in the dark
when you find out what's worth keeping
with a breath of kindness
blow the rest away.
I gave my love a golden feather
I gave my love a heart of stone
and when you find a golden feather
it means you'll never lose your way back home.
Golden Feather by Robbie Robertson
I think I'll go on back to Shenandoah
she said that she'd meet me by the fork in the road
I jump start my one eyed Ford
I'm heading for the pow-wow
follow the red path that leads to you.
I gave my love a golden feather
I gave my love a heart of stone
and when you find a golden feather
it means you'll never lose your way back home.
Should I paint my face
should I pierce my skin
does this make me a pagan
sweating out my sins
we ate the sacred mushroom
and waded in the water
howling like coyotes
at the naked moon.
I gave my love a golden feather
I gave my love a heart of stone
and when you find a golden feather
it means you'll never lose your way back home.
In the autumn night
when there's no wind blowin'
I could hear the stars falling in the dark
when you find out what's worth keeping
with a breath of kindness
blow the rest away.
I gave my love a golden feather
I gave my love a heart of stone
and when you find a golden feather
it means you'll never lose your way back home.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Love Remains the Same by Gavin Rossdale
This song suits my mood today. As I am understanding that love really knows no boundaries. Remembering the past as well as what is in the here and now...because I know that no matter what...there is always still love.
a thousand times i've seen you standing
gravity like a lunar landing
make me want to run till i find you
shut the world away from here, drift to you, you're all i hear
everything we know fades to black
a thousand times i've seen you standing
gravity like a lunar landing
make me want to run till i find you
shut the world away from here, drift to you, you're all i hear
everything we know fades to black
half the time the world is ending, truth is i am done pretending
i never thought that i had any more to give
pushing me so far here i am without you
drink to all that we have lost, mistakes that we have made
everything will change, love remains the same
i find a place where we escape
take you with me for a space
a city bus that sounds just like a fridge
walk the streets through seven bars
i had to find just out where you are
the faces seen to blur they're all the same
half the time the world is ending, truth is i am done pretending
i never thought that i had any more to give
you're pushing me so far here i am without you
drink to all that we have lost, mistakes that we have made
everything will change, love remains the same
so much more to say, so much to be done
don't you trick me out, we shall overcome
cause our love stays ablaze
we should have had the sun
could have been inside
instead we're over here
half the time the world is ending, truth is i am done pretending
too much time to love defending, you and i are done pretending
i never thought that i had any more to give
you're pushing me so far here i am without you
drink to all that we have lost, mistakes that we have made
everything will change, everything will change
oh, i.........
this could last forever
oh, i........
we could last forever
love remains the same
love remains the same
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Peace by Colleen New Holy
My daughter Colleen wrote this last night because I was overcome suddenly with such a longing for my former life in the Twin Cities and all that I had gone through there. I have found my peace through her and everything that I do in my life.
For my Mom, Renee...
Peace
By Colleen New Holy
Sunshine is gleaming like dewdrops
On a warm spring day
Untouched by wind and protected by light
The breeze is slow and gentle
Peace...
Peace is hard to find but when you do find it...
Ecstasy
Like your one with everything
The tips of grass, the tinkling of leaves on a tree
The warm feeling of the sun
Drifting like snow or blossoms, one by one
You miss your friends, family, and parents
Feeling the calm of day and the dreaminess of night
The warmness of sun
The cold of moondrops
The dew shines like small moons in the moonshine
Peace...
The leaves shift and sing the birdsong
Trill and twitters of love and kindness
Love...
Love is a mystery
but so is the warmth
Of someones love and the love to you back
The slow rhythm of breathing
The rise and fall of waves in the ocean.
In the darkness, a loon calls out
Lake Superior with it's swiftly tilting bowl of water
The calmness of waves on the red shores of the earth
Peace...Peace...
Peace is a measurement of ecstasy
"Give me a small measurement of peace and ecstasy."
For my Mom, Renee...
Peace
By Colleen New Holy
Sunshine is gleaming like dewdrops
On a warm spring day
Untouched by wind and protected by light
The breeze is slow and gentle
Peace...
Peace is hard to find but when you do find it...
Ecstasy
Like your one with everything
The tips of grass, the tinkling of leaves on a tree
The warm feeling of the sun
Drifting like snow or blossoms, one by one
You miss your friends, family, and parents
Feeling the calm of day and the dreaminess of night
The warmness of sun
The cold of moondrops
The dew shines like small moons in the moonshine
Peace...
The leaves shift and sing the birdsong
Trill and twitters of love and kindness
Love...
Love is a mystery
but so is the warmth
Of someones love and the love to you back
The slow rhythm of breathing
The rise and fall of waves in the ocean.
In the darkness, a loon calls out
Lake Superior with it's swiftly tilting bowl of water
The calmness of waves on the red shores of the earth
Peace...Peace...
Peace is a measurement of ecstasy
"Give me a small measurement of peace and ecstasy."
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
The Thunder Crib...
The Thunder Crib
By Renee Sans Souci
When we were born
The Sky cradled us in
Blankets of Thunder
While lightening danced
To Creator’s heartbeat
The Earth shared in echoes
Far and wide announcing
Us to the universe
Beginnings are raindrops
Which graced our smiles
In joy through
Our flashing eyes
We knew one another
Before we were sent
To walk with our Mother
As our steps lead us
Back to the Thunder Crib
For the Thunder Dreamers…
By Renee Sans Souci
When we were born
The Sky cradled us in
Blankets of Thunder
While lightening danced
To Creator’s heartbeat
The Earth shared in echoes
Far and wide announcing
Us to the universe
Beginnings are raindrops
Which graced our smiles
In joy through
Our flashing eyes
We knew one another
Before we were sent
To walk with our Mother
As our steps lead us
Back to the Thunder Crib
For the Thunder Dreamers…
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Omaha Nation Water Walk Benefit Performance Program
Omaha Nation Water Walk
Benefit Performance
An Evening with:
Renee Sans Souci, Native Poet/Spoken Word Artist
Diane Robinson-Kerr, Flautist/Songwriter
Fran Collier, Guitarist
Welcome: Clair Guthrie
Opening musical piece by Diane Robinson Kerr and Fran Collier
Intro of Renee: Diane Robinson-Kerr
First Reading by Renee, Accompanied by Diane:
Return of the Thunders (spring drum)
Second Reading by Renee (Solo):
Finding the Beauty
Third Reading by Renee, Accompanied by Diane on Big Flute:
Sky & Earth, Blue & Green
Intro of Diane & Fran: Renee
Storytelling by Diane
Fourth Reading by Renee, Accompanied by Diane:
View from the Holy Fire Place
Fifth Reading by Renee (Solo):
Water is Sacred, Water is the Life (Written especially for this event)
Final Reading by Renee, Accompanied by Diane & Fran
A Journey to the Heart…My Home
Final Performance by three women and audience
Benefit Performance
An Evening with:
Renee Sans Souci, Native Poet/Spoken Word Artist
Diane Robinson-Kerr, Flautist/Songwriter
Fran Collier, Guitarist
Welcome: Clair Guthrie
Opening musical piece by Diane Robinson Kerr and Fran Collier
Intro of Renee: Diane Robinson-Kerr
First Reading by Renee, Accompanied by Diane:
Return of the Thunders (spring drum)
Second Reading by Renee (Solo):
Finding the Beauty
Third Reading by Renee, Accompanied by Diane on Big Flute:
Sky & Earth, Blue & Green
Intro of Diane & Fran: Renee
Storytelling by Diane
Fourth Reading by Renee, Accompanied by Diane:
View from the Holy Fire Place
Fifth Reading by Renee (Solo):
Water is Sacred, Water is the Life (Written especially for this event)
Final Reading by Renee, Accompanied by Diane & Fran
A Journey to the Heart…My Home
Final Performance by three women and audience
Omaha Nation Water Walk Benefit Concert Tonight!
Omaha Nation Water Walk Benefit Concert
Raising funds and awareness for Omaha Nation Water Walk
Date:
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Time:
7:00pm - 9:00pm
Location:
Unitarian Church
Street:
6300 A Street
City/Town:
Lincoln, NE
Spoken word artist and poet Renee Sans Souci, songwriter and storyteller Diane Robinson-Kerr, and guitarist Fran Collier join together for an evening of poetry and music to raise awareness and funds for the Omaha Nation Water Walk. E-Coli contamination of water on the Omaha reservation in northeast Nebraska is a continuing problem. The Water Walk, to take place in April, will be a prayer for healing, and will draw more awareness to the problem and possible solutions. Percussion will be provided by the audience!
Raising funds and awareness for Omaha Nation Water Walk
Date:
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Time:
7:00pm - 9:00pm
Location:
Unitarian Church
Street:
6300 A Street
City/Town:
Lincoln, NE
Spoken word artist and poet Renee Sans Souci, songwriter and storyteller Diane Robinson-Kerr, and guitarist Fran Collier join together for an evening of poetry and music to raise awareness and funds for the Omaha Nation Water Walk. E-Coli contamination of water on the Omaha reservation in northeast Nebraska is a continuing problem. The Water Walk, to take place in April, will be a prayer for healing, and will draw more awareness to the problem and possible solutions. Percussion will be provided by the audience!
Thursday, March 05, 2009
A Letter To The Community...
Ewithai Wongithe! All My Relatives!
Good Morning to each of you! I am forwarding a message that I received today about the National Day of Action for Water in Canada on Monday, April 13, 2009. This event is being co-hosted by the Native Women's Association of Canada in support of the Mother Earth Water Walk started by Grandmother Josephine Mondamin.
The message I would also like each of you to consider here is this: What can each of us do to support this effort in our own communities and in Nebraska?
There is a lot of concern at this time for the contaminated water problem on the Omaha Indian Reservation here in Nebraska. Many families are effected by the contamination such that there are unable to drink any water from their taps out of fear of the E-coli bacteria. This has been on-going for the past several months.
I visited my mother two days ago and saw the situation first hand. She has been drinking bottled water from the one gallon plastic jugs that have been provided by the Omaha Tribe, which is a very good thing. But I am still concerned about the water in those plastic jugs after all the training I've been through last year on bottled water contaminants.
We are all busy, I know, and we must all pick our battles each day as we arise for work. Yet, in this work, is there room to help support an effort that will shed light upon an on-going battle to have safe drinking water in our Native communities?
I propose that we sponsor a Water Walk here in Nebraska not only to show support for our sisters in Canada but to also bring attention to what is happening right in our own backyards. I have heard that it takes a single drop to start a wave...
Contact me via email if you have any more questions! Wibthahon! Thank you!
Ewithai Wongithe! All My Relations!
- Renee
Good Morning to each of you! I am forwarding a message that I received today about the National Day of Action for Water in Canada on Monday, April 13, 2009. This event is being co-hosted by the Native Women's Association of Canada in support of the Mother Earth Water Walk started by Grandmother Josephine Mondamin.
The message I would also like each of you to consider here is this: What can each of us do to support this effort in our own communities and in Nebraska?
There is a lot of concern at this time for the contaminated water problem on the Omaha Indian Reservation here in Nebraska. Many families are effected by the contamination such that there are unable to drink any water from their taps out of fear of the E-coli bacteria. This has been on-going for the past several months.
I visited my mother two days ago and saw the situation first hand. She has been drinking bottled water from the one gallon plastic jugs that have been provided by the Omaha Tribe, which is a very good thing. But I am still concerned about the water in those plastic jugs after all the training I've been through last year on bottled water contaminants.
We are all busy, I know, and we must all pick our battles each day as we arise for work. Yet, in this work, is there room to help support an effort that will shed light upon an on-going battle to have safe drinking water in our Native communities?
I propose that we sponsor a Water Walk here in Nebraska not only to show support for our sisters in Canada but to also bring attention to what is happening right in our own backyards. I have heard that it takes a single drop to start a wave...
Contact me via email if you have any more questions! Wibthahon! Thank you!
Ewithai Wongithe! All My Relations!
- Renee
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Congressional Hearing on Native Youth Suicide Rates
Congressional Hearing Explores High Suicide Rates Among American Indian Youth
Eight policymakers, tribal members and health care experts discussed the high rate of suicide among American Indian youth on Thursday during a...
To read the full article, please go to: http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/140867.php
Eight policymakers, tribal members and health care experts discussed the high rate of suicide among American Indian youth on Thursday during a...
To read the full article, please go to: http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/140867.php
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Moving Forward...
Moving forward.
I've been working on that this year. Come through a lot these past several months since leaving Minneapolis/St. Paul. I made so many mistakes and have experienced the guilt that goes along with those mistakes. Huge lesson for me in humility.
It's true I had never really intended to live in Lincoln. Wound up here with my kids. Struggled to survive every single day since arriving here.
I thought I had accomplished something by starting to work full-time. That was short-lived. Not long after I started the new job, my youngest son began to unravel. I had just gotten to work that morning after getting everyone off to school. About mid-morning, the school called me and told me to get there as soon as possible. It was an emergency. My son was threatening to kill himself.
I had no car at the time. It hit me so hard that I could hardly stand or think. What was I supposed to do, run over there! I told my supervisor and he recommended that I talk to one of the women upstairs, which I did. Jacinda agreed to drive me to the school.
When I got there, the assistant principal led me upstairs where they had my son. He was being held in a small room with no furniture, windows, or anything. Only bare walls and carpet. He was lying on the floor. Holding his neck with his hands. Every so often he would squeeze himself really good and I could see his fingers turn white.
What had I done wrong? That's all I could think. What am I supposed to do? All I could do was sit down beside him and ask him what was going on. Then I took him into my lap and held him tightly. After a while, he relaxed into my arms and just hung onto me.
I cried as I held him and I kept telling him that I loved him over and over.
The assistant principal asked to talk to me. She said that she had called the children's psychiatric unit and that they were prepared to take my son in for observation. Since he had been saying to everyone how he wanted to hurt himself and had been hitting his head against everything and choking himself, they thought it would be the best thing for me to do.
What was I to do?
I felt totally helpless with no where to turn. So I made several calls. Made arrangements for my other three children. Called my brother, Tony to pick them up after the youth program. And, then I rode with my son the hospital.
We went through a lengthy process of filling out papers. There was a police interview and then an interview with a social worker. I was filling so numb. My son clung to me the whole time. We both just sat in shock holding each other.
Once he was admitted the police then escorted us to the psychiatric unit. Everyone in there was extremely polite and scrutinized me from head to toe. My every move was recorded no doubt. It was so terrifying.
They checked my son into his room. Went over all his belongings and then interviewed me about what led up to his breakdown.
Yes, I thought, that is exactly what has happened. He's had a breakdown and I was unable to prevent it.
My son liked his room immediately. He liked that he had all sorts of toys to play with, especially legos. He liked that he had a TV to himself. His own little bed and his very own bathroom. He seemed to just relax.
When it was time for me to leave. I didn't want to go. How could I leave me son in such a place? The nurses and their assistants more or less pushed me out the doors. So there I stood in the lobby of this hospital. Not knowing which direction to go. In shock. Where were the nurses, psychiatrists, and social workers for me?
When I got out onto the street, the feeling was even worse. What the hell was I supposed to do? I didn't have a ride to go anywhere, so I made my way over to the grocery store. If nothing else, I would just buy a sandwich from the refrigerated section and find a place to sit down.
My friend Nancy called me at that moment. So I poured my heart out to her. She was so supportive and helped me to calm down. Then I called Christopher. He, too, was extremely supportive, even though he was over in New York. Still just to hear his voice was a relief.
I didn't get a sandwich but wound up with some chicken instead. Then I returned to the hospital to find a lounge area where I could sit and think for awhile.
I only knew that I did what I had to do. Not what I wanted to do. I would much rather have had my son with me at that very moment instead of having him in the hospital. What did I do wrong?
Life had been quite rough for us over the years. We saw the break up of our home. We went in separate directions for a time, when my kids went with their dad for a time. We came back together so that we could start over. Rebuild.
So how did it get this bad? I didn't see it coming. Yet, I realized that I had seen this coming. But I had no idea how to prevent it. What was I supposed to do?
I sat in the hospital lounge for an hour or more and then returned to the psych unit for visiting hours. Then I stayed with my son for three more hours. We just held each other and breathed.
Again, when visiting hours were over, I was ushered out. This time, it didn't seem so traumatic but still the feeling that I was abandoning my son was overwhelming. I went downstairs and waited in the lobby for my brother to pick me up. When he did, my three other children were in there and we returned to the family shelter where we were living for a few months.
After my brother dropped us off. I took my children up to our room and got them settled. They had all their snacks and were quite content to just sit back and relax. So I went downstairs to talk to one of the staff members on duty. She was my counselor for the evening.
There's nothing like having someone there just to hear your crying. She listened carefully and was very sympathetic. Prepared to do anything that was called for. All I wanted was to be comforted. When I felt better, she asked if it would be alright to say a prayer for me. I told her that I respected all prayers and that I would appreciate it.
When I returned to my room. I looked at my other children. They asked me what happened, so I explained to them that their brother was in the hospital and that he would be there for several more days. Then we smudged off and went to bed.
In the following days, we fell into a routine. Kids went to school and I took this time to reflect. Then we went to visit my son in the evenings. My brother picked us up each evening after visiting hours. Then we'd return to our room and start over again.
I felt that my faith was being tested to the limit.
The day came when it was determined that my son could be released from the hospital. And as we left that day. He looked up at me and said "Mom, I don't want to go back there again! I just want to be with you!"
How do we shield our children's fragile minds from the onslaught of challenges that threaten to swallow us mind, body, and soul? All I could do was pray.
This traumatic experience has definitely left me on edge. I have not worked since this happened and am not so willing to just accept any position, especially if it would require long hours away from my kids. Just not willing to go there...
Moving forward can be a challenge. We can make it as difficult or as easy as we would like it to be, so I've been told.
Me, I'd just prefer it to be easier for a change. I want to be happy as much as the next person.
I've been working on that this year. Come through a lot these past several months since leaving Minneapolis/St. Paul. I made so many mistakes and have experienced the guilt that goes along with those mistakes. Huge lesson for me in humility.
It's true I had never really intended to live in Lincoln. Wound up here with my kids. Struggled to survive every single day since arriving here.
I thought I had accomplished something by starting to work full-time. That was short-lived. Not long after I started the new job, my youngest son began to unravel. I had just gotten to work that morning after getting everyone off to school. About mid-morning, the school called me and told me to get there as soon as possible. It was an emergency. My son was threatening to kill himself.
I had no car at the time. It hit me so hard that I could hardly stand or think. What was I supposed to do, run over there! I told my supervisor and he recommended that I talk to one of the women upstairs, which I did. Jacinda agreed to drive me to the school.
When I got there, the assistant principal led me upstairs where they had my son. He was being held in a small room with no furniture, windows, or anything. Only bare walls and carpet. He was lying on the floor. Holding his neck with his hands. Every so often he would squeeze himself really good and I could see his fingers turn white.
What had I done wrong? That's all I could think. What am I supposed to do? All I could do was sit down beside him and ask him what was going on. Then I took him into my lap and held him tightly. After a while, he relaxed into my arms and just hung onto me.
I cried as I held him and I kept telling him that I loved him over and over.
The assistant principal asked to talk to me. She said that she had called the children's psychiatric unit and that they were prepared to take my son in for observation. Since he had been saying to everyone how he wanted to hurt himself and had been hitting his head against everything and choking himself, they thought it would be the best thing for me to do.
What was I to do?
I felt totally helpless with no where to turn. So I made several calls. Made arrangements for my other three children. Called my brother, Tony to pick them up after the youth program. And, then I rode with my son the hospital.
We went through a lengthy process of filling out papers. There was a police interview and then an interview with a social worker. I was filling so numb. My son clung to me the whole time. We both just sat in shock holding each other.
Once he was admitted the police then escorted us to the psychiatric unit. Everyone in there was extremely polite and scrutinized me from head to toe. My every move was recorded no doubt. It was so terrifying.
They checked my son into his room. Went over all his belongings and then interviewed me about what led up to his breakdown.
Yes, I thought, that is exactly what has happened. He's had a breakdown and I was unable to prevent it.
My son liked his room immediately. He liked that he had all sorts of toys to play with, especially legos. He liked that he had a TV to himself. His own little bed and his very own bathroom. He seemed to just relax.
When it was time for me to leave. I didn't want to go. How could I leave me son in such a place? The nurses and their assistants more or less pushed me out the doors. So there I stood in the lobby of this hospital. Not knowing which direction to go. In shock. Where were the nurses, psychiatrists, and social workers for me?
When I got out onto the street, the feeling was even worse. What the hell was I supposed to do? I didn't have a ride to go anywhere, so I made my way over to the grocery store. If nothing else, I would just buy a sandwich from the refrigerated section and find a place to sit down.
My friend Nancy called me at that moment. So I poured my heart out to her. She was so supportive and helped me to calm down. Then I called Christopher. He, too, was extremely supportive, even though he was over in New York. Still just to hear his voice was a relief.
I didn't get a sandwich but wound up with some chicken instead. Then I returned to the hospital to find a lounge area where I could sit and think for awhile.
I only knew that I did what I had to do. Not what I wanted to do. I would much rather have had my son with me at that very moment instead of having him in the hospital. What did I do wrong?
Life had been quite rough for us over the years. We saw the break up of our home. We went in separate directions for a time, when my kids went with their dad for a time. We came back together so that we could start over. Rebuild.
So how did it get this bad? I didn't see it coming. Yet, I realized that I had seen this coming. But I had no idea how to prevent it. What was I supposed to do?
I sat in the hospital lounge for an hour or more and then returned to the psych unit for visiting hours. Then I stayed with my son for three more hours. We just held each other and breathed.
Again, when visiting hours were over, I was ushered out. This time, it didn't seem so traumatic but still the feeling that I was abandoning my son was overwhelming. I went downstairs and waited in the lobby for my brother to pick me up. When he did, my three other children were in there and we returned to the family shelter where we were living for a few months.
After my brother dropped us off. I took my children up to our room and got them settled. They had all their snacks and were quite content to just sit back and relax. So I went downstairs to talk to one of the staff members on duty. She was my counselor for the evening.
There's nothing like having someone there just to hear your crying. She listened carefully and was very sympathetic. Prepared to do anything that was called for. All I wanted was to be comforted. When I felt better, she asked if it would be alright to say a prayer for me. I told her that I respected all prayers and that I would appreciate it.
When I returned to my room. I looked at my other children. They asked me what happened, so I explained to them that their brother was in the hospital and that he would be there for several more days. Then we smudged off and went to bed.
In the following days, we fell into a routine. Kids went to school and I took this time to reflect. Then we went to visit my son in the evenings. My brother picked us up each evening after visiting hours. Then we'd return to our room and start over again.
I felt that my faith was being tested to the limit.
The day came when it was determined that my son could be released from the hospital. And as we left that day. He looked up at me and said "Mom, I don't want to go back there again! I just want to be with you!"
How do we shield our children's fragile minds from the onslaught of challenges that threaten to swallow us mind, body, and soul? All I could do was pray.
This traumatic experience has definitely left me on edge. I have not worked since this happened and am not so willing to just accept any position, especially if it would require long hours away from my kids. Just not willing to go there...
Moving forward can be a challenge. We can make it as difficult or as easy as we would like it to be, so I've been told.
Me, I'd just prefer it to be easier for a change. I want to be happy as much as the next person.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Remembering my Father...Frank Saunsoci
It's been eight years since my father made his journey home. Things have changed considerably since he's passed. Kids are older and we no longer live in the country with all our animals. We're urban dwellers now with no pets.
This is a reprinting of a previous blog two years...
This poem is one I wrote a few years ago for my dad, Frank Saunsoci. It so happened in 2003, on this very same night, I could not sleep. I was stressed out from work and in a lot of emotional pain. And, I missed my dad terribly. I stayed awake all night crying and wishing for his comfort. Before he got sick, he always knew what to say to make me feel better.
Well, I realized that night that it was up to me now to comfort myself. So, I started to write and as I finished this poem, I felt a lot better.
My Father’s Voice
Take a moment to imagine my house…
My house has four children, Colleen, Rain, Remy, Amber
Plenty of animals…
At least four dogs (would you like one?),
A calico cat named J.P. (for the painter, Jackson Pollack),
And a turtle named Shellshocker, after a Pokemon of all things.
My house is always so loud with my children’s voices,
laughing, crying, arguing, and yelling for attention
"Mom, I’m hungry!" says Colleen
"Mom, Colleen took my blocks!" says Rain
"Mom, Remy hit me!" says Amber
And the dreaded…
"Mom, Amber needs a diaper change, again!
There are some days when I want to slap my hands over my ears
Just to be able to hear my own thoughts!
And, I always have to yell for someone to turn down that TV!
As each day arrives, it is another adventure into motherhood,
And, I've wondered for the hundred thousandth time, how…
Did my mom and dad do this with seven children as well as other family members?
Then I realized that what is most important to me is that my children are happy
…No matter that there is a ton of laundry to do
…No matter that toys are scattered from the living room to the bedroom
…No matter that there are letters, reports and memos to finish for work
…No matter that the phone is ringing again
…No matter that there is so little time to get anything done
As long as my family is happy, then I am happy too.
But there is always a day, a rare day like this one
…When I hear a voice that is no longer a part of this world
…So well known, so familiar
…It slices through all the other voices in my house, in this universe even…
And, I have to stop whatever I am doing and look around
I search for that person with that beloved voice
Then it hits me painfully...
And it always surprises me to see that it is one of my own children,
Speaking clearly with my father’s voice.
Then I remember the times I spent with my father…
Riding in the back seat of our car, safe and content
Visiting his mechanic friends in their garages
While I drank my Pepsi mixed with peanuts sitting on old tires.
To this day the smell of grease and oil is as nostalgic for me
As the aroma of baking bread is for many others
I remember that my father always took the time to explain how things worked
Because I always had to know…
How things worked.
I knew I could always count on him to listen patiently
And to dispense his wisdom with clarity
But the best thing he ever taught me was how to take care of my family,
This he showed me each day with his love.
So, now when I hear the echoes of my father’s voice
I know that he is still here with me in the voices of my children.
--For my father, Frank Saunsoci who passed away on February 28, 2001. Written by Renee Sans Souci, February 28, 2003
This is a reprinting of a previous blog two years...
This poem is one I wrote a few years ago for my dad, Frank Saunsoci. It so happened in 2003, on this very same night, I could not sleep. I was stressed out from work and in a lot of emotional pain. And, I missed my dad terribly. I stayed awake all night crying and wishing for his comfort. Before he got sick, he always knew what to say to make me feel better.
Well, I realized that night that it was up to me now to comfort myself. So, I started to write and as I finished this poem, I felt a lot better.
My Father’s Voice
Take a moment to imagine my house…
My house has four children, Colleen, Rain, Remy, Amber
Plenty of animals…
At least four dogs (would you like one?),
A calico cat named J.P. (for the painter, Jackson Pollack),
And a turtle named Shellshocker, after a Pokemon of all things.
My house is always so loud with my children’s voices,
laughing, crying, arguing, and yelling for attention
"Mom, I’m hungry!" says Colleen
"Mom, Colleen took my blocks!" says Rain
"Mom, Remy hit me!" says Amber
And the dreaded…
"Mom, Amber needs a diaper change, again!
There are some days when I want to slap my hands over my ears
Just to be able to hear my own thoughts!
And, I always have to yell for someone to turn down that TV!
As each day arrives, it is another adventure into motherhood,
And, I've wondered for the hundred thousandth time, how…
Did my mom and dad do this with seven children as well as other family members?
Then I realized that what is most important to me is that my children are happy
…No matter that there is a ton of laundry to do
…No matter that toys are scattered from the living room to the bedroom
…No matter that there are letters, reports and memos to finish for work
…No matter that the phone is ringing again
…No matter that there is so little time to get anything done
As long as my family is happy, then I am happy too.
But there is always a day, a rare day like this one
…When I hear a voice that is no longer a part of this world
…So well known, so familiar
…It slices through all the other voices in my house, in this universe even…
And, I have to stop whatever I am doing and look around
I search for that person with that beloved voice
Then it hits me painfully...
And it always surprises me to see that it is one of my own children,
Speaking clearly with my father’s voice.
Then I remember the times I spent with my father…
Riding in the back seat of our car, safe and content
Visiting his mechanic friends in their garages
While I drank my Pepsi mixed with peanuts sitting on old tires.
To this day the smell of grease and oil is as nostalgic for me
As the aroma of baking bread is for many others
I remember that my father always took the time to explain how things worked
Because I always had to know…
How things worked.
I knew I could always count on him to listen patiently
And to dispense his wisdom with clarity
But the best thing he ever taught me was how to take care of my family,
This he showed me each day with his love.
So, now when I hear the echoes of my father’s voice
I know that he is still here with me in the voices of my children.
--For my father, Frank Saunsoci who passed away on February 28, 2001. Written by Renee Sans Souci, February 28, 2003
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
When Do We Actually Heal?
On a healing journey, when do we actually heal?
While talking to a friend yesterday, she related to me some of the most painful incidences in her life. The physical and mental abuse she endured in her relationship. I listened to her with understanding because I know in many ways what she has been through. And, I can only pray for her that she will come out of it in due time.
In presentations I have given on Native Women and healing, I speak about identifying what has hurt me in the past, confronting what has hurt me, and then letting it go. Forgiving the past. Healing those memories, or more specifically, those cells that carry those traumatic memories.
Not everyone knows that I suffer from a form of Social Anxiety Disorder that stems from childhood incidences of abuse. Particularly from physical and mental abuse from a teacher when I was in the second grade.
My family had just moved to the reservation in 1969. After spending an idyllic summer playing in the countryside of my mother's home. The time arrived for my first day in school. All kids are anxious about the first day, especially when they are new to the district. Being only seven, I had no idea what was in store for me.
The second grade teacher, I was assigned to, was an elderly white woman. She had been teaching on the reservation for years, I'm certain. Probably retired from there, as well. I don't know what it was about me that caught her attention but it seemed from the start, she sought to humiliate me.
I often felt like I was on trial for a crime I didn't even know I had committed. There were times when she would make me stand up in class to answer her. The questions made no sense to me so I often gave her answers which she found unsatisfactory. Her response to "my mistakes" were to shame me and put me down in front of all my classmates. And what made it so bad was that my classmates reveled in my humiliation and laughed at my torture.
As the days continued on, I became more resistant. I did not want to go to school. I fought and cried and begged my parents not to send me into class. It didn't work.
I found myself in the middle of a nightmare that continued for months.
When I refused to respond for this teacher, she would then come over to my desk and drag me out of it and force me to stand up. Often times she hit me with anything that was handy, books were most often her choice.
Then I had to stand in front of the class once again, sobbing my humiliation and hurt, while they laughed openly at me. I had no defenders come to my rescue. And the ultimate betrayal in all of this was that most of my classmates were also my relatives.
I don't know what finally got through to my mother, maybe one of the students from the other classes said something to her. But she came to my class with me one day and confronted the teacher. Whatever this teacher had said to my mother must have set her off because the next thing I know, my mom was chasing her around and around her desk.
I can still see that clearly in my mind.
My parents removed me from that school immediately. But by then, the months I had spent in that teacher's company had left a mark on my spirit.
Children are resilient and heal quickly, they say. I believe that is true for most part. Yet, there is still healing that must occur with the hurt inflicted upon us as children. Many of us adults are still carrying around such hurt that is not healed.
I avoid almost any situation that resembles having to stand up in front of a classroom to be ridiculed. Even the most innocent social interaction sets me on an edge where I don't care to be. So instead of welcoming such interaction, I flee, much to the consternation of friends, colleagues, and relatives.
So, over the years, I realized that in order to heal that part of me, which is that child that still carries those memories, I had to confront those fears and anxieties. I forced myself to stand up in front of classrooms by becoming a teacher myself. Only I am hopefully, one who is more considerate of the young spirits in my charge.
The other thing I have done is to become a performance artist of the spoken word. The poetry I create and read to others is based on the hurt, the healing, and the spiritual relationships we have to one another and to the Earth and the Sky.
And, of course, I write.
And I champion those whom I feel need my support. Especially the children. Since I am also a mother of four intelligent, sensitive souls.
I am still learning to heal myself.
While talking to a friend yesterday, she related to me some of the most painful incidences in her life. The physical and mental abuse she endured in her relationship. I listened to her with understanding because I know in many ways what she has been through. And, I can only pray for her that she will come out of it in due time.
In presentations I have given on Native Women and healing, I speak about identifying what has hurt me in the past, confronting what has hurt me, and then letting it go. Forgiving the past. Healing those memories, or more specifically, those cells that carry those traumatic memories.
Not everyone knows that I suffer from a form of Social Anxiety Disorder that stems from childhood incidences of abuse. Particularly from physical and mental abuse from a teacher when I was in the second grade.
My family had just moved to the reservation in 1969. After spending an idyllic summer playing in the countryside of my mother's home. The time arrived for my first day in school. All kids are anxious about the first day, especially when they are new to the district. Being only seven, I had no idea what was in store for me.
The second grade teacher, I was assigned to, was an elderly white woman. She had been teaching on the reservation for years, I'm certain. Probably retired from there, as well. I don't know what it was about me that caught her attention but it seemed from the start, she sought to humiliate me.
I often felt like I was on trial for a crime I didn't even know I had committed. There were times when she would make me stand up in class to answer her. The questions made no sense to me so I often gave her answers which she found unsatisfactory. Her response to "my mistakes" were to shame me and put me down in front of all my classmates. And what made it so bad was that my classmates reveled in my humiliation and laughed at my torture.
As the days continued on, I became more resistant. I did not want to go to school. I fought and cried and begged my parents not to send me into class. It didn't work.
I found myself in the middle of a nightmare that continued for months.
When I refused to respond for this teacher, she would then come over to my desk and drag me out of it and force me to stand up. Often times she hit me with anything that was handy, books were most often her choice.
Then I had to stand in front of the class once again, sobbing my humiliation and hurt, while they laughed openly at me. I had no defenders come to my rescue. And the ultimate betrayal in all of this was that most of my classmates were also my relatives.
I don't know what finally got through to my mother, maybe one of the students from the other classes said something to her. But she came to my class with me one day and confronted the teacher. Whatever this teacher had said to my mother must have set her off because the next thing I know, my mom was chasing her around and around her desk.
I can still see that clearly in my mind.
My parents removed me from that school immediately. But by then, the months I had spent in that teacher's company had left a mark on my spirit.
Children are resilient and heal quickly, they say. I believe that is true for most part. Yet, there is still healing that must occur with the hurt inflicted upon us as children. Many of us adults are still carrying around such hurt that is not healed.
I avoid almost any situation that resembles having to stand up in front of a classroom to be ridiculed. Even the most innocent social interaction sets me on an edge where I don't care to be. So instead of welcoming such interaction, I flee, much to the consternation of friends, colleagues, and relatives.
So, over the years, I realized that in order to heal that part of me, which is that child that still carries those memories, I had to confront those fears and anxieties. I forced myself to stand up in front of classrooms by becoming a teacher myself. Only I am hopefully, one who is more considerate of the young spirits in my charge.
The other thing I have done is to become a performance artist of the spoken word. The poetry I create and read to others is based on the hurt, the healing, and the spiritual relationships we have to one another and to the Earth and the Sky.
And, of course, I write.
And I champion those whom I feel need my support. Especially the children. Since I am also a mother of four intelligent, sensitive souls.
I am still learning to heal myself.
Monday, February 16, 2009
King Without A Crown by Matisyahu...
My brother Chris Cartmill turned me onto Matisyahu about three years ago. I just love his song "King Without A Crown." When I hear it, it makes me happy because this is how I feel about the Grandfathers everyday...
Sunday, February 01, 2009
25 Random Things About Me...Taken from Facebook
I'm addicted to Facebook! This list came out over the last few days and many of us, bravely decided to fill it out. Then I thought I'd add it to my blog. I still haven't figured out how to link my blog to Facebook. See how that goes!
Anyway here is the list:
25 Random things about me:
1. One of my Indian names is Sacred Horse Woman, which mostly all my friends and relatives know me by. (I have two others.)
2. I grew up hearing the Omaha language all around me but did not speak it!
3. As a result, I advocate for Native language revitalization.
4. Studied 4 foreign languages: English, Spanish, French, and German.
5. Studying 3 indigenous languages: Omaha, Ojibwe, and Lakota.
6. I have designed a Native language immersion school.
7. My goal is to bring it into existence as I was instructed to do by the Tunkasilas, Manitous...
8. I love reading and writing poetry.
9. One of my poems, "View from the Holy Fire Place" was read in the Sacred Sites Production last year. (Credit to Sheila Rocha who did a wonderful job in creating an amazing show!).
10. I saw and touched the Berlin Wall a year before it was torn down.
11. I have actually sat in a beer garden with singing Bavarians (But I forgot to wear lederhosen).
12. I climbed the steps of one of the spires of the Cologne Cathedral nearly to the top but couldn't make it because I'm afraid of heights!
13. I love skydiving...just kidding, I'm afraid of heights, remember? Checking to see if you are paying attention.
14. I love riding my bike because when I do I feel like I can do anything or go anywhere.
15. I love singing (no, not with the Bavarians, I just love singing, with my bros, especially).
16. One of my favorite songs is Native Dance Hall by Native Roots, a reggae band.
17. A few years ago, I became a spiritual runner and ran for the youth and for sacred sites! (Am still on call for all spiritual runs.)
18. Heyokas are attracted to me or I am to them. (So what does that make me?)
19. Last year, I became a danzante (Aztec Dancer). I love Danza.
20. I used to smoke.
21. I long to live in a home that is more aligned with our Native traditions, like an earthlodge with a contemporary twist.
22. I only watch t.v. for about 15 minutes a day or less.
23. I love the mountains, the badlands, the deserts, and the woodlands, and any place there is water.
24. Water is sacred. I am a protector of water.
25. My kids are my anchor, without them I don't know where I'd be, probably living out in the wild somewhere...ferally.
Anyway here is the list:
25 Random things about me:
1. One of my Indian names is Sacred Horse Woman, which mostly all my friends and relatives know me by. (I have two others.)
2. I grew up hearing the Omaha language all around me but did not speak it!
3. As a result, I advocate for Native language revitalization.
4. Studied 4 foreign languages: English, Spanish, French, and German.
5. Studying 3 indigenous languages: Omaha, Ojibwe, and Lakota.
6. I have designed a Native language immersion school.
7. My goal is to bring it into existence as I was instructed to do by the Tunkasilas, Manitous...
8. I love reading and writing poetry.
9. One of my poems, "View from the Holy Fire Place" was read in the Sacred Sites Production last year. (Credit to Sheila Rocha who did a wonderful job in creating an amazing show!).
10. I saw and touched the Berlin Wall a year before it was torn down.
11. I have actually sat in a beer garden with singing Bavarians (But I forgot to wear lederhosen).
12. I climbed the steps of one of the spires of the Cologne Cathedral nearly to the top but couldn't make it because I'm afraid of heights!
13. I love skydiving...just kidding, I'm afraid of heights, remember? Checking to see if you are paying attention.
14. I love riding my bike because when I do I feel like I can do anything or go anywhere.
15. I love singing (no, not with the Bavarians, I just love singing, with my bros, especially).
16. One of my favorite songs is Native Dance Hall by Native Roots, a reggae band.
17. A few years ago, I became a spiritual runner and ran for the youth and for sacred sites! (Am still on call for all spiritual runs.)
18. Heyokas are attracted to me or I am to them. (So what does that make me?)
19. Last year, I became a danzante (Aztec Dancer). I love Danza.
20. I used to smoke.
21. I long to live in a home that is more aligned with our Native traditions, like an earthlodge with a contemporary twist.
22. I only watch t.v. for about 15 minutes a day or less.
23. I love the mountains, the badlands, the deserts, and the woodlands, and any place there is water.
24. Water is sacred. I am a protector of water.
25. My kids are my anchor, without them I don't know where I'd be, probably living out in the wild somewhere...ferally.
Jim Main, Sr. Being Laid to Rest Today...
Friday, January 30, 2009
Jim Main, Sr., takes flight to Spirit World
Found this posted on another blog entitled Censored News...
By Tia Oros Peters
Photo of Jim Main, Sr, at home by Brenda Norrell
Dear Seventh Generation Fund Relatives and Friends,
With a heavy heart I share with you the news of Jim Main Sr., (Gros Ventre) passing to the Spirit World. As many of you may remember Jim Main, he was a steadfast and unrelenting warrior for Indigenous Peoples and especially for our homelands and sacred sites. In fact, his words and guidance helped inform our Sacred Sites Protection Campaign – including our memorable person Sacred Earth Summit in 2001 in Seattle, WA, and again, in 2002 in San Diego, CA.
A member of the White Clay Society, Jim was a treasured leader to Seventh Generation Fund for many years. He will be sorely missed by our organization. We trusted Jim. We were honored when he attended our convenings and shared his great wisdom, wit, and generous spirit. He taught us through his conduct and his dedication. We looked to him often to help us. And, he was always generous.
Jim was a true and consistent warrior, to be sure. And, as such, he was also a gracious, kind, thoughtful and honorable leader that set for us a clear pathway of how to continue work on behalf of our respective peoples.
Jim would be so pleased to know of recent sacred sites victories in places like Panhe in California, and just a couple of days ago in Zuni, New Mexico. It would have been great to march with him in Redding, in the struggle to protect Hatchet Mountain (Pit River Country) from (so-called green) windmills that will damage a sacred area, and severely impact golden and bald eagle habitat. He knows, where he is now in the other world, that we will continue the good fight for our peoples. Today, in mourning, and reflecting on how much we have learned from Jim Main Sr., we carry forward – heavy hearted but as determined as ever to strive, to fight, to honor our ancestors, as he did.
It is always so hard when we lose one of our elders. The world seems that much emptier, bigger, more difficult to travel through. Jim’s presence meant a great deal to so many of our community and projects. SGF sincerely hopes that our work continues to carry forth the great legacy and integrity of Jim Main Sr., a warrior of character, determination, and outstanding leadership. On behalf of our organization, board, staff and the Indigenous communities we serve throughout the Indigenous World, I extend a heartfelt condolence to Jim’s family, community and Nation.
May he be in peace.
All Our Relations,
Tia --Tia Oros Peters, Executive Director, Seventh Generation Fund for Indigenous Development, Office Ph: 707-825-7640 x111 http://www.7genfund.org/
Supporting Social, Environmental and Cultural Justice for 32 Years (1977 – 2009)
In memory of Jim Main, Sr., the following interview is posted, written while I visited with him and his family at home, on Gros Ventre land two years ago. Sincere condolences to his family. Jim was a true warrior, arising with courage in his lifelong fight for the people, Brenda Norrell
In Montana, Indians are guilty until proven innocent
By Brenda Norrell
HAYS, Montana – James Main, Sr., Gros-Ventre and longtime advocate of Indian rights, said some conditions have improved for American Indians in Montana, particularly the treatment of Indians by government officials. Ranchers in north-central Montana often get along well with
Indian cowboys.
However, the treatment of Indians by the Montana Justice System has not improved its treatment of Indian people.
"We've got a long way to go with the Justice system. I'd like to see a handful of radical attorneys come over here and shake this place up, attack the system," Main said.
Main, known internationally as a voice for Indigenous Peoples, now in poor health following open-heart surgery, has a personal view of the state system.
James Sr. laughs remembering how Bill Means said Jim Jr. should be a comedian because of his impersonations of John Wayne and others. Jim Jr. was the caregiver of his mother, Vernie White Cow Main, who lives on the homesite where she was born on Big Warm Creek on the Fort Belknap Nation.
James Sr. said, "Jim took care of her. He almost had to be a nurse for six months. He trained himself to take care of her."
James Sr. spent his life traveling for Indigenous rights, helping those who needed him. "I decided to do some good," he said of his decision to live a life in service to humankind.
"I learned a lot about different people and different cultures. I never knew there were other Indians in California. I thought John Wayne got them all," James Sr. joked.
"It's good to travel, travel around."
Seated at home in the community of his childhood at Hays, James Sr. is surrounded by memories and the passing of time.
"I don't know how long I'm going to last. I have got a lot of people praying for me. These Mayan Indians went up on a pyramid in Guatemala.
It must have been a very powerful ceremony. I knew; it was in my mind."
On his living room wall, there is a huge poster of a Gros Ventre man. It reads, "Sits on High, EK-GIB-TSA-ATSKE, of the White Clay People A'AH'NI NIN."
James Sr. looks at the poster and says, "He did what they wanted him to do, settle down. Then, they took his land."
Speaking about those who took the land here, rich in gold, water and forests, he says, "They make a fortune and they die."
These days, James Sr. teaches his grandsons the philosophy that he has lived by. It is the philosophy of pride, self-esteem and honoring the culture.
"Go back to your old ways, traditions and culture. That is what I teach my grandsons. Try to get the language back," he adds. There are only a handful of speakers left.
James Sr. remembers the harsh years at St. Paul's Mission School.
During second grade, when the children went to pray during Christmas mass, the nuns told them Santa Claus would come if they had been good.
If not, there would be willow switches waiting. When they returned, they expected presents and instead found a stack of willow switches. There was also writing on the blackboard.
"I recognized the writing. It was a priest's, telling us how bad we were."
The little children were often beaten. James Sr. remembers, "They would slap us around for nothing."
Remembering his father Tom Main, James Sr. said, "He was a humanitarian, a real leader. He did things for nothing. He could have amassed a fortune, but he didn't."
James Sr. said Tom Main served as an interpreter at a time when few White Clay People spoke English. Tom served on the executive committee of the National Congress of American Indians.
"I learned a lot from him, he was honest to a fault," Jim Sr. said of his father.
"We had a pretty rough upbringing, we were poor and we had to haul water a long way. We burned wood, so we had to saw wood. My mother used to wash on Saturdays, all we did all day long was haul water."
James Sr. grew up with three brothers and four sisters. Today, all of his brothers are living and the oldest is 86. He served in the Air Force in Japan and was there when the Korean War began in 1950.
James Sr. also worked in the copper mines for 15 years. "That's where there was never racism, a melting pot."
The happiest days of his life were spent during his high school years. "We rode horseback, we rode bucking horses; there were lots of wild horses. We had powwows during the holidays, I really enjoyed those. We had bone games, hand games, we would sing songs and have a guessing game. We tried to guess whose hand the bone was in."
The men and women played each other. Kumeyaay have similar games, he said. During their travels, both Jim Sr. and Jim Jr. earned the respect of Indian people.
Read entire article:
http://bsnorrell.blogspot.com/2007/11/in-montana-indians-are-guilty-until.html
From Indigenous Environmental Network: Jim Main Sr., elder and warrior was an intregal part in the founding and creation of IEN, and was a long term National Council member for IEN. He was also a member of the International Indigenous Treaty Council and the Grand Governing Council of the American Indian Movement. His teachings of wisdom and the memory of his humor and traditional songs will stay with us.Ga-a-woo-wuss (Coyote Bear), a.k.a. James Main, Sr., of the White Clay Nation died peacefully in his sleep at approximately 4:30 a.m. on January 29, 2009. His hard-fought battle with End-Stage Congestive Heart Failure over the past several years finally took its toll about two weeks ago. Like a true warrior, he did not go down easily, but went with honor and dignity. To the end, he maintained his humor, making those around him laugh…and cry as he used his dwindling strength to sing, talk Indian, pray, and tell of old times. Always at the center of his heart and spirit was the survival of the Red Nations. It is an overwhelmingly sad day for his loved ones here on earth, but truly a victorious day for a warrior who is so deserving of the peace, love, and acceptance he will meet as all our relatives take him to his rightful place in the spirit world, known as the “Big Sands” to the White Clay people.Wake services will be held Saturday, January 31 beginning at 5:00 p.m. at his residence in Hays, Montana.
Traditional services will be held Sunday, February 1 at 1:00 p.m. followed by burial at the family cemetary in Big Warm, Montana.
If you would like to make a contribution to the family at this time -
Please Contact: Rose Main: 406.390.5350 (mobile), 406.673.3013 (home)
James Main, Sr.'s residence: 406.673.3813
William "Snuffy" Main: 406.945.7349
Harold "Jiggs" Main: 406.262.3041
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Rest in Peace Steve Casanova...
SCSU prof dies of cancer
A well-loved leader in the Hispanic community and St. Cloud State University associate professor died Thursday.
Stephen Casanova died after a short battle with cancer, friend Eduardo Martinez said. Casanova taught in the Ethnic Studies Department at St. Cloud State. He was a frequent speaker around Minnesota on topics of immigration and ethnicity.
Martinez said Casanova was a model in the Hispanic community and acted as a mentor to many students.
“We lost a role model and true leader within the Hispanic community,” Martinez said.
Each summer, Casanova took students on service-learning trips to Mexico. They helped build houses and irrigation channels. Martinez’s son Dan went on six or seven such trips with Casanova.
Casanova earned his bachelor’s degree in 1978 from Southwest Texas State University. He then moved north, earning his master’s degree in 1987 and his doctorate in 2001 at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
Martinez said the news of Casanova’s death broke his heart.
“I’m going to miss him very much,” he said.
Friday, November 07, 2008
The Omaha Tribal Circle (in 3D)
This is a brief article I wrote for a Indian Education class I taught in December, 2005 . I found it yesterday and read it last night at our A.A. Talking Circle at the Ponca Tribal Office here in Lincoln. The reason I read it was in response to someone's question about why we had Talking Circles. They wanted to understand the meaning.
Before Contact: Millenia of Our Own Teachings...The Tribal Circle (in 3D)
For indigenous peoples of Turtle Island, our tribal circles (or spheres) have existed for thousands of years. The tribal circle was based on the balance of everything that exists in the universe, the duality of masculine and feminine forces. To look at the symbol of the circle, you must imagine it as a sphere, with the top half of the circle representing the sky and the bottom half representing the earth. Around this sphere you also have the four cardinal directions, and the center, which represents the here and now or the human being. This ancient symbolism was reflected in all our tribal systems: governments, villages, homes, and within ourselves (the very act of breathing represents the duality of in and out).
Through our tribal educational systems, our clans, in particular, we were taught how to relate to the Sky and the Earth because as human beings we were composed of the same elements as both (spirit and matter). This relationship was one of respect, a mutual respect between all living matter. We had the understanding of what modern science terms "Relativity" and "Quantum Physics." We understood our relationship to the microcosmic subatomic level on up to the macrocosmic universal level. We encompassed this understanding in one phrase: We Are All Related. The phrase acknowledged the spirit or energy that vibrates in all of us. The Omaha people called this energy Wakonda.
The tribal circle was the foundation of how we learned and survived. From the time we were born, we went through growth cycles. Ceremonies marked each stage of growth and we developed our teachings around the skills acquired at these benchmarks. In the Omaha system the men and women learned separately. We each had our own language, our own ceremonies, and our own societies. There was respect between the two sexes where neither was considered better than the other. We were complementary.
And, the one underlying method of teaching in our system was that no one was allowed to fail!
This did not mean that we lived in perfection, however, because there were always natural catastrophes, illness, and warfare that would disrupt our circles from time to time. Yet, we were always able to reestablish our circles through any conflict...especially now.
And, these days we engage with one another through Talking Circles, such as the one I attended last night. I hope that this was helpful to all who were there.
- Renee
Before Contact: Millenia of Our Own Teachings...The Tribal Circle (in 3D)
For indigenous peoples of Turtle Island, our tribal circles (or spheres) have existed for thousands of years. The tribal circle was based on the balance of everything that exists in the universe, the duality of masculine and feminine forces. To look at the symbol of the circle, you must imagine it as a sphere, with the top half of the circle representing the sky and the bottom half representing the earth. Around this sphere you also have the four cardinal directions, and the center, which represents the here and now or the human being. This ancient symbolism was reflected in all our tribal systems: governments, villages, homes, and within ourselves (the very act of breathing represents the duality of in and out).
Through our tribal educational systems, our clans, in particular, we were taught how to relate to the Sky and the Earth because as human beings we were composed of the same elements as both (spirit and matter). This relationship was one of respect, a mutual respect between all living matter. We had the understanding of what modern science terms "Relativity" and "Quantum Physics." We understood our relationship to the microcosmic subatomic level on up to the macrocosmic universal level. We encompassed this understanding in one phrase: We Are All Related. The phrase acknowledged the spirit or energy that vibrates in all of us. The Omaha people called this energy Wakonda.
The tribal circle was the foundation of how we learned and survived. From the time we were born, we went through growth cycles. Ceremonies marked each stage of growth and we developed our teachings around the skills acquired at these benchmarks. In the Omaha system the men and women learned separately. We each had our own language, our own ceremonies, and our own societies. There was respect between the two sexes where neither was considered better than the other. We were complementary.
And, the one underlying method of teaching in our system was that no one was allowed to fail!
This did not mean that we lived in perfection, however, because there were always natural catastrophes, illness, and warfare that would disrupt our circles from time to time. Yet, we were always able to reestablish our circles through any conflict...especially now.
And, these days we engage with one another through Talking Circles, such as the one I attended last night. I hope that this was helpful to all who were there.
- Renee
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Message from Grand Chief, Eddie Benton Benai, on Passing of Midewiwin Leader Tommy J. Stillday...
I received this message via email from the Three Fires Midewiwin Lodge listserv and am posting to my blog today in honor of Tommy Stillday.
Mide Anishinabe doog,,Nin duh way maw gunni doog,,maydaywi yeag. Me i ewe noon goom uhshoo mawjaud bayjig ay chi inung i zood Mide wi inini. Mide brother/uncle Tom Stillday, Ponemah Nayausheeng, lodge has been called home. His beautiful midewiwin work and life has been completed. All midewiwins of the three fires lodge are being asked to put a bit of food and tobacco out on Sat.evening ,just before dark. This will be our respect and honoring of a great Mide man who served the Anishinabe people for many years, decades, tirelessly. He has always respected the three fires lodge and our work. Personally Tommy J. always had good words and encouragement for my own efforts and will always remember and honor that. I will find out to whom we can send $ donations in absence of being present for the funeral. Me i ewe it is a dark day for all of us,,wayway ni,, - Bawdwaywidun (Eddie Benton Benai)
I also found this posted on the RLNN (Red Lake Net News):
Remembering Tommy J...
This is a story Michael Meuers wrote back in 1997 under the Whitefeather administration about Tommy J. being the first Indian Senate Chaplain in the state of Minnesota. The story appeared in the Red Lake Nation newspaper back then. Tom called Mr. Meueres "Makakii ."
TOMMY J. IS FIRST NON-JUDEO/CHRISTIAN SPIRITUAL LEADER TO SERVE AS SENATE CHAPLAIN IN MINNESOTA HISTORY
By Michael Meuers
Red Lake Public Relations
Thomas J. Stillday, Jr. was the first non-Judeo/ Christian Spiritual Leader to serve as Senate Chaplin in the history of Minnesota. He was elected unanimously by the Minnesota Senate 67-0 on the first day it convened on January 7th, 1997 for a two-year term. (The biannual session) Tommy J. had been going through a slow recovery from a recent surgery and was unable to be sworn in at that time. He was expected to give the invocation at the beginning and end of the Senate session for those two years...which he did. Other religious leaders filled in for Tom at other times during the session.
Because of his slow recovery, it was decided to have Tom sworn in during Red Lake Day at the Capitol. So at 9 AM on Thursday February 13, 1997, Red Lake members and employees were joined by urban Red Lakers in the Senate Gallery. On the Senate floor near the front, Chairman Whitefeather place a headdress on Tom, while Aloyisius Thunder prepared the pipe. Red Lake Government Re
lations person Michael Meuers was in the door of the retiring room, talking with the press, and arranging for photographs with senators and the press. Senate President, Alan Spear, asked the press to shut off their cameras and swore in Thomas J. Stillday, Jr. as the first Indian, and the first member of a non-Judeo/Christian belief to serve in that capacity in the 139 year history of Minnesota statehood. You could feel the pride in the gallery as history was witnessed, and on the floor, 67 senators stood at attention for ten minutes as Chaplin Stillday prayed in Ojibwe to the four directions, mother earth and the Creator. He asked that the Senators be guided by the Creator as they make decisions that will affect all people. You could have heard a pin drop. A proud moment indeed.
After the ceremony, in the Senate retiring room, senators and staff jockeyed for position to shake the new Chaplin’s hand and have their picture take with him. Out in the hall, reporters and photographers all wanted exclusive interviews. Famous television reporters were overheard saying “this is so cool”. The interest from the press was so great that Senator Moe arranged for a press conference across the hall from the Senate Chamber. Microphones were place in front of Tom sitting at the head of a table by reporters from television, newspaper and radio. Reporters from the Minneapolis Tribune and St. Paul Pioneer Press stood ready with note books...photographers flashed pictures. Tom’s wisdom (along with a little BS for the Chimooks) came through as he answered questions. Whitefeather and Moe stood proudly behind Stillday. After the press conference, Tom continued to be asked for interviews until noon by some who had missed the press conference including public television, Minnesota News Network radio, and WCCO’s Pat Kessler. Radio and TV would report on the event throughout the day And in the morning, Chaplin Stillday’s photo and story were on the front page of the St. Paul Pioneer Press and on the front page of the “B” section of the Minneapolis Star-Tribune.
That evening’s event took place at the Minnesota History Center where Young Dreams Dance Troupe performed for nearly 300 legislators and other guests. First was a reception by invitation for a dinner of walleye fingers, wild rice, veggies and fry bread. When Moe took the stage in the 3M Auditorium, he announced that he would advocate a joint session to hear a State of the Tribes message from Tribal Governments, an idea of Chairman Whitefeather’s. (This also came to fruition) Young Dreams with the Eyabay Drum appeared the night before on Public TV’s Newsnight Minnesota. At the performance, the finale, the friendship dance, saw many of the audience come down to the stage, senators, Red Lake members and those who had never danced before. Smiles were broad enjoying the good feeling that young Dreams delivers.
Part historic, part educational, part interesting conversation, but most of all this day was a sharing of good feelings between different cultures of good people. This was Red Lake Day at the Capitol ‘97.
Post Script: This was a big event and another first for Red Lake. (Only to be rivaled, press wise, by Red Lake High School’s trip to St. Paul for the State Basketball tournament) Tom was featured on the front page of the Pioneer Press with a long story. He was featured in the Star-Tribune front page with a full color photo and long story. Tom was featured in an editorial for the Trib on 2/19 with the title; “Indian Chaplin, Enlarging all Minnesotans’ heritage. Tom was featured in “Inside Talk” in the Trib with “You Gotta break a few rules” talking about the rules of the Senate requiring no smoking and ties in the Senate Chamber, both rules broken by the swearing in of Thomas Stillday. Tom was also featured in the political newsletter, Politics in Minnesota. There is also a full-color photo of Chairman Whitefeather placing the headdress on Chaplin Stillday from the Pioneer Press as well as a smaller photo of Tom and Wishy sharing a laugh. And the News from Minnesota in the national newspaper, USA Today, featured the swearing in of Thomas J. Stillday, Jr. Finally, Tom remains in the history of Minnesota by being featured in the reference book published by the Secretary of State entitled Minnesota Legislative Manual (The Blue Book). For the edition “97-’98, he is listed with the Senate Officers with photo. On page 149, Chapter Two it lists Officers of the Senate and Leadership Staff. With a photo of Stillday it reads, “Chaplain: Thomas Stillday, Ponemah, Minnesota. Spiritual elder for the Red Lake Band of Chippewa Indians; attended University of Minnesota-Morris, majoring in elementary education; obtained other education from spiritual leaders of the Ponemah community that passed on; worked in Ponemah public schools; Korean War veteran; served 12 years on the tribal council; wife, Marylou, six children; eight grandchildren. Elected 1997-98 sessions”.
Mide Anishinabe doog,,Nin duh way maw gunni doog,,maydaywi yeag. Me i ewe noon goom uhshoo mawjaud bayjig ay chi inung i zood Mide wi inini. Mide brother/uncle Tom Stillday, Ponemah Nayausheeng, lodge has been called home. His beautiful midewiwin work and life has been completed. All midewiwins of the three fires lodge are being asked to put a bit of food and tobacco out on Sat.evening ,just before dark. This will be our respect and honoring of a great Mide man who served the Anishinabe people for many years, decades, tirelessly. He has always respected the three fires lodge and our work. Personally Tommy J. always had good words and encouragement for my own efforts and will always remember and honor that. I will find out to whom we can send $ donations in absence of being present for the funeral. Me i ewe it is a dark day for all of us,,wayway ni,, - Bawdwaywidun (Eddie Benton Benai)
I also found this posted on the RLNN (Red Lake Net News):
Remembering Tommy J...
This is a story Michael Meuers wrote back in 1997 under the Whitefeather administration about Tommy J. being the first Indian Senate Chaplain in the state of Minnesota. The story appeared in the Red Lake Nation newspaper back then. Tom called Mr. Meueres "Makakii ."
TOMMY J. IS FIRST NON-JUDEO/CHRISTIAN SPIRITUAL LEADER TO SERVE AS SENATE CHAPLAIN IN MINNESOTA HISTORY
By Michael Meuers
Red Lake Public Relations
Thomas J. Stillday, Jr. was the first non-Judeo/ Christian Spiritual Leader to serve as Senate Chaplin in the history of Minnesota. He was elected unanimously by the Minnesota Senate 67-0 on the first day it convened on January 7th, 1997 for a two-year term. (The biannual session) Tommy J. had been going through a slow recovery from a recent surgery and was unable to be sworn in at that time. He was expected to give the invocation at the beginning and end of the Senate session for those two years...which he did. Other religious leaders filled in for Tom at other times during the session.
Because of his slow recovery, it was decided to have Tom sworn in during Red Lake Day at the Capitol. So at 9 AM on Thursday February 13, 1997, Red Lake members and employees were joined by urban Red Lakers in the Senate Gallery. On the Senate floor near the front, Chairman Whitefeather place a headdress on Tom, while Aloyisius Thunder prepared the pipe. Red Lake Government Re
lations person Michael Meuers was in the door of the retiring room, talking with the press, and arranging for photographs with senators and the press. Senate President, Alan Spear, asked the press to shut off their cameras and swore in Thomas J. Stillday, Jr. as the first Indian, and the first member of a non-Judeo/Christian belief to serve in that capacity in the 139 year history of Minnesota statehood. You could feel the pride in the gallery as history was witnessed, and on the floor, 67 senators stood at attention for ten minutes as Chaplin Stillday prayed in Ojibwe to the four directions, mother earth and the Creator. He asked that the Senators be guided by the Creator as they make decisions that will affect all people. You could have heard a pin drop. A proud moment indeed.After the ceremony, in the Senate retiring room, senators and staff jockeyed for position to shake the new Chaplin’s hand and have their picture take with him. Out in the hall, reporters and photographers all wanted exclusive interviews. Famous television reporters were overheard saying “this is so cool”. The interest from the press was so great that Senator Moe arranged for a press conference across the hall from the Senate Chamber. Microphones were place in front of Tom sitting at the head of a table by reporters from television, newspaper and radio. Reporters from the Minneapolis Tribune and St. Paul Pioneer Press stood ready with note books...photographers flashed pictures. Tom’s wisdom (along with a little BS for the Chimooks) came through as he answered questions. Whitefeather and Moe stood proudly behind Stillday. After the press conference, Tom continued to be asked for interviews until noon by some who had missed the press conference including public television, Minnesota News Network radio, and WCCO’s Pat Kessler. Radio and TV would report on the event throughout the day And in the morning, Chaplin Stillday’s photo and story were on the front page of the St. Paul Pioneer Press and on the front page of the “B” section of the Minneapolis Star-Tribune.
That evening’s event took place at the Minnesota History Center where Young Dreams Dance Troupe performed for nearly 300 legislators and other guests. First was a reception by invitation for a dinner of walleye fingers, wild rice, veggies and fry bread. When Moe took the stage in the 3M Auditorium, he announced that he would advocate a joint session to hear a State of the Tribes message from Tribal Governments, an idea of Chairman Whitefeather’s. (This also came to fruition) Young Dreams with the Eyabay Drum appeared the night before on Public TV’s Newsnight Minnesota. At the performance, the finale, the friendship dance, saw many of the audience come down to the stage, senators, Red Lake members and those who had never danced before. Smiles were broad enjoying the good feeling that young Dreams delivers.
Part historic, part educational, part interesting conversation, but most of all this day was a sharing of good feelings between different cultures of good people. This was Red Lake Day at the Capitol ‘97.
Post Script: This was a big event and another first for Red Lake. (Only to be rivaled, press wise, by Red Lake High School’s trip to St. Paul for the State Basketball tournament) Tom was featured on the front page of the Pioneer Press with a long story. He was featured in the Star-Tribune front page with a full color photo and long story. Tom was featured in an editorial for the Trib on 2/19 with the title; “Indian Chaplin, Enlarging all Minnesotans’ heritage. Tom was featured in “Inside Talk” in the Trib with “You Gotta break a few rules” talking about the rules of the Senate requiring no smoking and ties in the Senate Chamber, both rules broken by the swearing in of Thomas Stillday. Tom was also featured in the political newsletter, Politics in Minnesota. There is also a full-color photo of Chairman Whitefeather placing the headdress on Chaplin Stillday from the Pioneer Press as well as a smaller photo of Tom and Wishy sharing a laugh. And the News from Minnesota in the national newspaper, USA Today, featured the swearing in of Thomas J. Stillday, Jr. Finally, Tom remains in the history of Minnesota by being featured in the reference book published by the Secretary of State entitled Minnesota Legislative Manual (The Blue Book). For the edition “97-’98, he is listed with the Senate Officers with photo. On page 149, Chapter Two it lists Officers of the Senate and Leadership Staff. With a photo of Stillday it reads, “Chaplain: Thomas Stillday, Ponemah, Minnesota. Spiritual elder for the Red Lake Band of Chippewa Indians; attended University of Minnesota-Morris, majoring in elementary education; obtained other education from spiritual leaders of the Ponemah community that passed on; worked in Ponemah public schools; Korean War veteran; served 12 years on the tribal council; wife, Marylou, six children; eight grandchildren. Elected 1997-98 sessions”.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
"The Synchronicity of Old Connections" Quote from Chris Corrigan's Blog
I am always reading other people's blogs. Can't help myself. Especially, since I am always reading about quantum physics and string theory. (My kids find this all fascinating, as well.) I enjoy finding out that there are other souls out there who enjoy the same things. I came across Chris Corrigan's blog during my search today and liked what he had to say. This quote is from the report Dialogues Between Western and Indigenous Scientists by Dan Moonhawk Alford. It's all about time, space, and language! So here it is:
1. Everything that exists vibrates
This point of agreement is important because it moves beyond our usual ‘thingy’ or particle notion of existence based on raw sensory impressions, which is favored in the indo-european language family, and allows a justification on the part of Native Americans for the existence of spirits.
2. Everything is in flux
(Sa’ke’j:) The only constant is change–constant change, transformations; everything naturally friendly, trying to reach a more stable state instead of bullying each other around. That kind of process the English language doesn’t allow you to talk about too much, but most Native American languages are based on capturing the motions of nature, the rhythms, the vibrations, the relationships, that you can form with all these elements, just like a periodic table in a different way: relationships rather than a game of billiards, where you only count the ones that go in–all of their motion doesn’t count.
3. The Part Enfolds the Whole:
(not just whole is more than the sum of its parts)(Sa’ke’j:) When we wear leathers and beads and eagle thongs and things like that, it’s not seen as totally ludicrous, as decoration - it’s seen as containing something you want to have a relationship with.
4. There is an implicate order to the universe
(Sa’ke’j:) This implicate order holds everything together whether we want it to or not, and exists independently of our beliefs, our perceptions, or our linguistic categories. It exists totally independently of the methods or rules that people use to arrive at what it is, and David Bohm’s captured that with the great phrase the implicate order, versus the explicate order of things that they can explain quite concretely, such as a rock falling out of a window. This also agrees with the lakhota phrase ’skan skan,’ which points to the motion behind the motion.
5. This ecosphere is basically friendly
Sa’ke’j maintains that the planet, and especially the Americas as well as the physical universe, are basically gentle and friendly: You don’t have an electron jumping and bullying into other(s) unless it knows it’s missing a stable state and knows it can reach that stable state and increase its own stability.
6. Nature can be taught new tricks
(Sa’ke’j:) We also agreed that that world out there that exists–that reality, not imaginality–can be taught new tricks with the cyclotron; and what was raised in the meeting was, are these new tricks beneficial, or will they create a hostile universe on their own, independent of scientists, once they teach electrons how to jump and how to amass the energy to jump, and it becomes a bullying, hostile biological world.Reminds me of Alan Watts talking about how the universe has had to learn how to get ever smaller and ever larger as we probe it with microscopes and telescopes, receding ever further in the distance as self observes itself.
7. Quantum Potential and Spirit
After listening to the physicists and American Indians talk for a few days, it struck me that the way physicists use the term potential, or quantum potential, is nearly identical to the way Native Americans use the term spirit. They all agreed there was something similar going on.
8. The principle of complementarity
Physicists for all this century have realized that our usual notion of bipolar or black & white opposites was insufficient when working with nature. The first clue came when they asked incoming light, ‘Are you particle?’ and it answered Yes; ‘Are you wave?’ and it answered Yes. This is equivalent to asking whether something is a noun or a verb and getting a yes answer to both–which is exactly how Native American language nouns are made up: as verbs with suffixes that make them temporarily into nouns for discussion sake. this yes-yes complementarity is foreign to Indo-European languages, but quite common in other language families (such as the Chinese notion of Yin-Yang), and represents a higher level of formal operations, in Piaget’s terms, referred to by some as post-formal operations–that which lies beyond normal Western Indo-European development.
Monday, September 08, 2008
What is Home? And, Why Are There So Many Homeless People?
"I should not be alive!" proclaimed the woman sitting next to me on the steps of the Family Shelter the other day. I had just gotten my children on the school bus that picks them up each morning when this woman came outside to smoke a cigarette. She seemed distressed and wanted to talk, even though we were strangers, so I sat down with her to listen to what she had to say.
"There are many times, I should have died from being beaten up, car accidents, or o.d.ing, but for whatever reason God keeps me alive!" She said between puffs.
"I'm here now because my fiance tried to kill me last night! I had to run to my neighbor's apartment next door to call the police. This is the second time he's done this but this time, I'm not going back."
As she continued talking about her life, I listened in the way I usually do to everyone, detached and non-judging. I always like to hear everything before I make any comments or suggestions. Sometimes, I can tell that people only need to talk things out before deciding to take action on their challenges. Even without any advice from me.
As she sat there with tears in her eyes, she asked the question that I have been wondering about for the past several weeks, "Why are there so many homeless people in this country?"
It's a question that needs to be addressed because it is not restricted to just the transient, often romanticized, hobo subculture, or the bum off the street stereotype. Homelessness affects many, many people of all backgrounds, nationalities, and beliefs.
Women and children, and the elderly, are particularly affected. I don’t know the statistics but I know that my family is just one such statistic. I took a survey recently given by the shelter staff and I was asked why I sought out services from the Family Shelter. I told them that in order to be eligible for all social services, I had to become certifiably homeless. When I was working full-time, making a decent salary, and living in an apartment. I still was not earning enough money to support my family. So, I sought out assistance for us, but I was told that I made too much money to qualify. It was a real dilemma. What was I supposed to do?
And, what does this mean for the United States, supposedly the most powerful country in the world, when there are many hard working people forced on the streets for various reasons, not just the stereotypical ones.
I have been listening to other women here talk about their lives. Women of all colors, ages, and creeds. They cry sometimes and, sometimes...I cry with them.
The Creator has placed me here at this particular time and place for a reason, I realized. If for anything to help me to understand what is happening on all levels with the people around me. I need to experience what this is so that I can be of better service to the people, especially to the children.
It's the children who suffer the most because they need to eat and feel secure, like they have a home.
One day I saw a former colleague in the cafeteria. I tried to tell her about everything that was happening in my life but she turned away and had this funny look in her eye. Then she told me that she would keep this in confidence and would not tell anyone that she saw me in the Family Shelter.
I couldn't help it, I had to laugh. I told her, "You don't have to do that! Everyone knows that I am here! It's no big secret!" (I mean I’m blogging about it for heaven’s sake at this very moment.)
Well, one thing this incident showed me is that there is a stigma attached to being homeless. There is a cloak of shame around the entire subject. Why is it such a taboo subject?
I ponder such things! And then, as a Native woman, I look at it and think that Native people never thought of themselves as homeless! We often packed up and moved the location of our homes because of the need to do so. We were geniuses at mobility.
The women in my tribe owned the homes. We were quite resourceful and always found ways to make things work. Just as I am doing now.
I have never desired to own a home, at least not in the contemporary fashion, but rather I have desired to have a home built that is respectful of our natural surroundings. A home that would be much like what our ancestors lived in, only with a modern twist so to speak. I am determined to make this happen. My dream home.
This dream came about because of a question posed by Daniel Wildcat in an interview that I read in the Winds of Change Magazine in 2005.
Wildcat had this to say: The problem we face today is that the measure of technological progress is often thought of as the extent to which humankind can control and mitigate the so-called forces of nature. I find it hard to imagine a more problematic and dangerous idea. Why not figure out a way to live with nature?
Well, why not? Native people have done so for thousands of years. What is to stop us now from continuing our methods in this so-called modern society? Wouldn’t it be in our best interests to do so? Economically, environmentally, and spiritually?
And, this whole topic begs the question what is home? My friend Christopher Cartmill has been based three of his plays, the Homeland Trilogy, on this very question. He’s very passionate about this concept of what is home and wrote about it from many perspectives.
It 's two blocks from the bus stop to the shelter and takes about five minutes at the most. Last week, while walking the two blocks with two other women. One said conversationally, "I never ever imagined myself walking this f-----g strip in my life!" We all looked at each other and laughed, then the other replied, "None of us did! But here we are!"
Yes, we are here from all walks of life.
We will be getting a house soon. My children and I. A place that we will call home for a time here in Lincoln, Nebraska but I already know that it won't be our last home.
"There are many times, I should have died from being beaten up, car accidents, or o.d.ing, but for whatever reason God keeps me alive!" She said between puffs.
"I'm here now because my fiance tried to kill me last night! I had to run to my neighbor's apartment next door to call the police. This is the second time he's done this but this time, I'm not going back."
As she continued talking about her life, I listened in the way I usually do to everyone, detached and non-judging. I always like to hear everything before I make any comments or suggestions. Sometimes, I can tell that people only need to talk things out before deciding to take action on their challenges. Even without any advice from me.
As she sat there with tears in her eyes, she asked the question that I have been wondering about for the past several weeks, "Why are there so many homeless people in this country?"
It's a question that needs to be addressed because it is not restricted to just the transient, often romanticized, hobo subculture, or the bum off the street stereotype. Homelessness affects many, many people of all backgrounds, nationalities, and beliefs.
Women and children, and the elderly, are particularly affected. I don’t know the statistics but I know that my family is just one such statistic. I took a survey recently given by the shelter staff and I was asked why I sought out services from the Family Shelter. I told them that in order to be eligible for all social services, I had to become certifiably homeless. When I was working full-time, making a decent salary, and living in an apartment. I still was not earning enough money to support my family. So, I sought out assistance for us, but I was told that I made too much money to qualify. It was a real dilemma. What was I supposed to do?
And, what does this mean for the United States, supposedly the most powerful country in the world, when there are many hard working people forced on the streets for various reasons, not just the stereotypical ones.
I have been listening to other women here talk about their lives. Women of all colors, ages, and creeds. They cry sometimes and, sometimes...I cry with them.
The Creator has placed me here at this particular time and place for a reason, I realized. If for anything to help me to understand what is happening on all levels with the people around me. I need to experience what this is so that I can be of better service to the people, especially to the children.
It's the children who suffer the most because they need to eat and feel secure, like they have a home.
One day I saw a former colleague in the cafeteria. I tried to tell her about everything that was happening in my life but she turned away and had this funny look in her eye. Then she told me that she would keep this in confidence and would not tell anyone that she saw me in the Family Shelter.
I couldn't help it, I had to laugh. I told her, "You don't have to do that! Everyone knows that I am here! It's no big secret!" (I mean I’m blogging about it for heaven’s sake at this very moment.)
Well, one thing this incident showed me is that there is a stigma attached to being homeless. There is a cloak of shame around the entire subject. Why is it such a taboo subject?
I ponder such things! And then, as a Native woman, I look at it and think that Native people never thought of themselves as homeless! We often packed up and moved the location of our homes because of the need to do so. We were geniuses at mobility.
The women in my tribe owned the homes. We were quite resourceful and always found ways to make things work. Just as I am doing now.
I have never desired to own a home, at least not in the contemporary fashion, but rather I have desired to have a home built that is respectful of our natural surroundings. A home that would be much like what our ancestors lived in, only with a modern twist so to speak. I am determined to make this happen. My dream home.
This dream came about because of a question posed by Daniel Wildcat in an interview that I read in the Winds of Change Magazine in 2005.
Wildcat had this to say: The problem we face today is that the measure of technological progress is often thought of as the extent to which humankind can control and mitigate the so-called forces of nature. I find it hard to imagine a more problematic and dangerous idea. Why not figure out a way to live with nature?
Well, why not? Native people have done so for thousands of years. What is to stop us now from continuing our methods in this so-called modern society? Wouldn’t it be in our best interests to do so? Economically, environmentally, and spiritually?
And, this whole topic begs the question what is home? My friend Christopher Cartmill has been based three of his plays, the Homeland Trilogy, on this very question. He’s very passionate about this concept of what is home and wrote about it from many perspectives.
It 's two blocks from the bus stop to the shelter and takes about five minutes at the most. Last week, while walking the two blocks with two other women. One said conversationally, "I never ever imagined myself walking this f-----g strip in my life!" We all looked at each other and laughed, then the other replied, "None of us did! But here we are!"
Yes, we are here from all walks of life.
We will be getting a house soon. My children and I. A place that we will call home for a time here in Lincoln, Nebraska but I already know that it won't be our last home.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Steve Blake Making his Journey Home...
Steve Blake, 51, artist and advocate for American Indians
Blake created the American Indian Movement logo as a teenager and spent his adult life working for justice, as well as practicing and teaching about his native culture.
By BEN COHEN, Star Tribune
When Steve Blake of Minneapolis was a boy, the artist and future chairman of the Twin Cities chapter of the American Indian Movement would sketch the whirl of activity around the Wounded Knee conflict of the early 1970s.
Blake, who as a teenager designed the American Indian Movement, or AIM, logo widely recognized as the symbol of the movement, died of lung ailments on Wednesday in Minneapolis. He was 51.
Blake, whose father, Francis Blake II, helped establish the AIM, became a teacher in his Ojibwe culture, fluent in the language and a force for justice in Minnesota, said his family and friends.
His mother, Norby Blake of St. Paul, recalled that he sketched the activities of the early AIM leaders in the late 1960s and early 1970s. "He was a curious and very active young man," she said.
He was a graduate of Heart of the Earth School and South High School in Minneapolis.
As a member of the Minneapolis Police Community Relations Council, he worked to ensure that people receive fair treatment when dealing with the police. Clyde Bellecourt, American Indian activist and co-chairman of the Police Community Relations Council, said Blake had been reviving the AIM street patrols he helped establish in the 1980s.
"If someone needed help day or night, he would respond," Bellecourt said. "If it was Red Lake or anywhere, he would go."
In recent years, Blake helped establish AIM chapters at St. Cloud State University, in Red Lake, Minn., and in Fargo, N.D.
He was an accomplished dancer and singer in native ceremonies, participating in powwows around the nation. He crafted ceremonial drums and ceremonial dress.
His "top-notch" paintings were "seen around the world," Bellecourt said.
Two years ago, Blake underwent a double lung transplant. In April, he struggled anew with illness, but he had bounced back until recent weeks, said his cousin, Minneapolis Police Sgt. Bill Blake, who also serves on the Police Community Relations Council.
"Steve really had a strong passion to help people and reach out to others," Bill Blake said.
Floyd (Buck) Jourdain, tribal chairman of the Red Lake Ojibwe Nation, said Steve Blake was a leader who would also roll up his sleeves and do the grass-roots work, such as teaching the culture to children in Minnesota and Wisconsin or taking kids to Pipestone, Minn., to teach about its sacred quarry.
"He was articulate and outspoken" but didn't waste words, Jourdain said. "He backed up his talk with action. He practiced the culture hands-on."
In addition to his mother, he is survived by his fiancée, Lani Moran of Minneapolis; a brother, Francis III of St. Paul; a sister, Valerie of St. Paul, and nephew Jesse and niece Neegahnee, both of St. Paul.
A wake will be held at 6 p.m. today at All Nations Indian Church, 1515 E. 23rd St., Minneapolis. Services will begin at 6 p.m. Friday at Little Rock Community Center on the Red Lake Reservation.
Blake created the American Indian Movement logo as a teenager and spent his adult life working for justice, as well as practicing and teaching about his native culture.
By BEN COHEN, Star Tribune
When Steve Blake of Minneapolis was a boy, the artist and future chairman of the Twin Cities chapter of the American Indian Movement would sketch the whirl of activity around the Wounded Knee conflict of the early 1970s.
Blake, who as a teenager designed the American Indian Movement, or AIM, logo widely recognized as the symbol of the movement, died of lung ailments on Wednesday in Minneapolis. He was 51.
Blake, whose father, Francis Blake II, helped establish the AIM, became a teacher in his Ojibwe culture, fluent in the language and a force for justice in Minnesota, said his family and friends.
His mother, Norby Blake of St. Paul, recalled that he sketched the activities of the early AIM leaders in the late 1960s and early 1970s. "He was a curious and very active young man," she said.
He was a graduate of Heart of the Earth School and South High School in Minneapolis.
As a member of the Minneapolis Police Community Relations Council, he worked to ensure that people receive fair treatment when dealing with the police. Clyde Bellecourt, American Indian activist and co-chairman of the Police Community Relations Council, said Blake had been reviving the AIM street patrols he helped establish in the 1980s.
"If someone needed help day or night, he would respond," Bellecourt said. "If it was Red Lake or anywhere, he would go."
In recent years, Blake helped establish AIM chapters at St. Cloud State University, in Red Lake, Minn., and in Fargo, N.D.
He was an accomplished dancer and singer in native ceremonies, participating in powwows around the nation. He crafted ceremonial drums and ceremonial dress.
His "top-notch" paintings were "seen around the world," Bellecourt said.
Two years ago, Blake underwent a double lung transplant. In April, he struggled anew with illness, but he had bounced back until recent weeks, said his cousin, Minneapolis Police Sgt. Bill Blake, who also serves on the Police Community Relations Council.
"Steve really had a strong passion to help people and reach out to others," Bill Blake said.
Floyd (Buck) Jourdain, tribal chairman of the Red Lake Ojibwe Nation, said Steve Blake was a leader who would also roll up his sleeves and do the grass-roots work, such as teaching the culture to children in Minnesota and Wisconsin or taking kids to Pipestone, Minn., to teach about its sacred quarry.
"He was articulate and outspoken" but didn't waste words, Jourdain said. "He backed up his talk with action. He practiced the culture hands-on."
In addition to his mother, he is survived by his fiancée, Lani Moran of Minneapolis; a brother, Francis III of St. Paul; a sister, Valerie of St. Paul, and nephew Jesse and niece Neegahnee, both of St. Paul.
A wake will be held at 6 p.m. today at All Nations Indian Church, 1515 E. 23rd St., Minneapolis. Services will begin at 6 p.m. Friday at Little Rock Community Center on the Red Lake Reservation.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Actual Thoughts about the Seven Fires and My Life in General...
As I thought about my previous post, I realized that I was writing more about everything in general and very little about the Seven Fires Prophecies. However, what I do think is that my life is working in time with the Seven Fires Prophecies. For the past three years, I have been retracing the footsteps of my ancestors. And, I have gained a greater understanding and respect for all ancient Native teachings.
When I decided to return to Nebraska. I wasn't quite sure where we were going to go next. It just seems like in the past two years, my kids and I have been in total upheaval since their dad walked out on us. It was good for them that they spent this past year with him. Hopefully, a lot of healing took place between them.
I am doing my best to be a good mother. I have accepted that I am doing this on my own without any help from their dad. (No bad feelings intended there, just the truth, I wish him well.) Today, as I am writing this, I feel really good because things really are starting to change around for us.
When I decided to move back to Lincoln, I wasn't sure at first that I was doing the right thing. Everything felt weird and I just felt lost. Then I went to sundance held near Hallam, Nebraska and danced for two days. The man who runs this sundance is Hermus Lonedog and he is a very compassionate man. Sundancing made a great difference because I also accepted that I am truly walking my path now and am making my own decisions about how my life will be...in accordance with the Grandfathers.
That was over a month ago and now that we are in the shelter, we are receiving all the assistance for families in transition. We are starting all over from scratch.
I've been networking like crazy and getting a lot of support from colleagues and former teachers. My relatives here have also been very helpful.
I am writing curriculum for the LIED Center for Performing Arts for the upcoming performance of Kevin Locke in November. This curriculum is to be a Nebraska equivalent to the Kevin's curriculum "the Drum is the Thunder, the Flute is the Wind." I am also looking at becoming an ArtsREACH Teaching Artist through the LIED Center.
Yesterday, I was readmitted to the Graduate Studies Program at UNL. I will be taking two classes in Special Ed. so that I can renew my teaching certificate. I will start working on my Master's Degree, once again, and am looking at the possibility of Special Education/Early Childhood Education.
What I marvel at is how everything this past week has been like butter. When just the week before, everything was so difficult. I didn't know how we were going to get through.
So, here we are now...
As I am thinking of everything today, I am truly thankful for the Grandfathers' help in everything. My children and I are blessed.
I reflect back to what the Grand Chief, Bawdwaywidun, (Eddie Benton-Benaise) said at the Three Fires Society Spring Ceremonies in June, up by the shores of Lake Superior. He asked everyone in the lodge, are we the new people of the Seventh Fire? ARE WE?
Yes, I accept that I am one of the New People of the Seventh Fire.
When I decided to return to Nebraska. I wasn't quite sure where we were going to go next. It just seems like in the past two years, my kids and I have been in total upheaval since their dad walked out on us. It was good for them that they spent this past year with him. Hopefully, a lot of healing took place between them.
I am doing my best to be a good mother. I have accepted that I am doing this on my own without any help from their dad. (No bad feelings intended there, just the truth, I wish him well.) Today, as I am writing this, I feel really good because things really are starting to change around for us.
When I decided to move back to Lincoln, I wasn't sure at first that I was doing the right thing. Everything felt weird and I just felt lost. Then I went to sundance held near Hallam, Nebraska and danced for two days. The man who runs this sundance is Hermus Lonedog and he is a very compassionate man. Sundancing made a great difference because I also accepted that I am truly walking my path now and am making my own decisions about how my life will be...in accordance with the Grandfathers.
That was over a month ago and now that we are in the shelter, we are receiving all the assistance for families in transition. We are starting all over from scratch.
I've been networking like crazy and getting a lot of support from colleagues and former teachers. My relatives here have also been very helpful.
I am writing curriculum for the LIED Center for Performing Arts for the upcoming performance of Kevin Locke in November. This curriculum is to be a Nebraska equivalent to the Kevin's curriculum "the Drum is the Thunder, the Flute is the Wind." I am also looking at becoming an ArtsREACH Teaching Artist through the LIED Center.
Yesterday, I was readmitted to the Graduate Studies Program at UNL. I will be taking two classes in Special Ed. so that I can renew my teaching certificate. I will start working on my Master's Degree, once again, and am looking at the possibility of Special Education/Early Childhood Education.
What I marvel at is how everything this past week has been like butter. When just the week before, everything was so difficult. I didn't know how we were going to get through.
So, here we are now...
As I am thinking of everything today, I am truly thankful for the Grandfathers' help in everything. My children and I are blessed.
I reflect back to what the Grand Chief, Bawdwaywidun, (Eddie Benton-Benaise) said at the Three Fires Society Spring Ceremonies in June, up by the shores of Lake Superior. He asked everyone in the lodge, are we the new people of the Seventh Fire? ARE WE?
Yes, I accept that I am one of the New People of the Seventh Fire.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Thoughts on the Seven Fires Prophecies...
For all of you's who may not know, I've been doing my thing here back in my hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska. My kids and I are living at the Peoples City Mission Family Shelter until we get a house. Lots has changed in my life, once again. Need I say more?
Job prospects are good. I'm seeking employment with the Lincoln Public Schools. Finally going to put my degree to good use. I've got my kids enrolled in the public schools. I had to overcome my reluctance to work with the public school system. If I cannot change this system, perhaps I can help in some way to work with Native students.
I am continuing my work on my language school. In fact, I have changed the name from Shonge Xube Tapuska to Path of the Sun. In the Omaha Huthuga (Tribal Circle) the center line that balanced the two moieties, the Sky People and the Earth People, was called the Path of the Sun. The name changed resulted from a speech I heard by Jerry Lopez, Director of the Multicultural Indigenous Academy of St. Paul, Minnesota last spring. His perseverance and vision has provided so much inspiration to me.
I am missing the Summer Ceremonies this week. The Three Fires Midewiwin Lodge are gathering in Manitoba. I feel the longing to be there with them in my heart. So I thought I'd post this about the Seven Fires Prophecies.
Job prospects are good. I'm seeking employment with the Lincoln Public Schools. Finally going to put my degree to good use. I've got my kids enrolled in the public schools. I had to overcome my reluctance to work with the public school system. If I cannot change this system, perhaps I can help in some way to work with Native students.
I am continuing my work on my language school. In fact, I have changed the name from Shonge Xube Tapuska to Path of the Sun. In the Omaha Huthuga (Tribal Circle) the center line that balanced the two moieties, the Sky People and the Earth People, was called the Path of the Sun. The name changed resulted from a speech I heard by Jerry Lopez, Director of the Multicultural Indigenous Academy of St. Paul, Minnesota last spring. His perseverance and vision has provided so much inspiration to me.
I am missing the Summer Ceremonies this week. The Three Fires Midewiwin Lodge are gathering in Manitoba. I feel the longing to be there with them in my heart. So I thought I'd post this about the Seven Fires Prophecies.
Teachings of the Seven Prophets: The Seven Fires
Note: The following was asked to be read by Elder William Commanda at the Aboriginal Learning Network Constituency Meeting of Elders, policy makers, and academics on April 16th and 17th, 1997 in Aylner, Quebec.
The source for this story is The Mishomis book : the voice of the Ojibway by Edward Benton-Banai. Printed in St. Paul, Minn. Published by Indian Country Press, copyright 1979.
Seven prophets came to the Anishinabe. They came at a time when the people were living a full and peaceful life on the North Eastern coast of North America. These prophets left the people with seven predictions of what the future would bring. Each of the prophecies was called a fire and each fire referred to a particular era of time that would come in the future. Thus, the teachings of the seven prophets are now called the "Seven Fires".
The first prophet said to the people,
"In the time of the First Fire, the Anishinabe nation will rise up and follow the sacred shell of the Midewiwin Lodge. The Midewiwin Lodge will serve as a rallying point for the people and its traditional ways will be the source of much strength. The Sacred Megis will lead the way to the chosen ground of the Anishinabe. You are to look for a turtle shaped island that is linked to the purification of the earth. You will find such an island at the beginning and end of your journey. There will be seven stopping places along the way. You will know the chosen ground has been reached when you come to a land where food grows on water. If you do not move you will be destroyed."
The second prophet told the people,
"You will know the Second Fire because at this time the nation will be camped by a large body of water. In this time the direction of the Sacred Shell will be lost. The Midewiwin will diminish in strength. A boy will be born to point the way back to the traditional ways. He will show the direction to the stepping stones to the future of the Anishinabe people."
The third prophet said to the people,
"In the Third Fire the Anishinabe will find the path to their chosen ground, a land in the west to which they must move their families. This will be the land where food grounds on water."
The Fourth Fire was originally given to the people by two prophets. They come as one. They told of the coming of the light skinned race.
One of the prophets said,
"You will know the future of out people by the face of the light skinned race wears. If they come wearing the face of brotherhood then there will come a time of wonderful change for generations to come. They will bring new knowledge and articles that can be joined with the knowledge of this country. In this way, two nations will join to make a mighty nation. This new nation will be joined by two more so that four will for the mightiest nation of all. You will know the face of the brotherhood if the light skinned race comes carrying no weapons, if they come bearing only their knowledge and a hand shake."
The other prophet said,
"Beware if the light skinned race comes wearing the face of death. You must be careful because the face of brotherhood and the face of death look very much alike. If they come carrying a weapon ... beware. If they come in suffering ... They could fool you. Their hearts may be filled with greed for the riches of this land. If they are indeed your brothers, let them prove it. Do not accept then in total trust. You shall know that the face they wear is one of death if the rivers run with poison and fish become unfit to eat. You shall know them by these many things."
The fifth prophet said,
"In the time of the Fifth Fire there will come a time of great struggle that will grip the lives of all native people. At the waring of this Fire there will come among the people one who holds a promise of great joy and salvation. If the people accept this promise of a new way and abandon the old teachings, then the struggle of the Fifth Fire will be will be with the people for many generations. The promise that comes will prove to be a false promise. All those who accept this promise will cause the near destruction of the people."
The prophet of the Sixth Fire said,
"In the time of the Sixth Fire it will be evident that the promise of the First Fire cam in in a false way. Those deceived by this promise will take their children aways from the teachings of the Elders. Grandsons and granddaughters will turn against the Elders. In this way the Elders will lose their reason for living ... they will lose their purpose in life. At this time a new sickness will come among the people. The balance of may people will be disturbed. The cup of life will almost become the cup of grief."
At the time of these predictions, many people scoffed at the prophets. They then had medicines to keep away sickness. They were then healthy and happy as a people. These were the people who chose to stay behind in the great migration of the Anishinabe. These people were the first to have contact with the light skinned race. They would suffer most.
When the Fifth Fire came to pass, a great struggle did indeed grip the lives of all native people. The light skinned race launched a military attack on the Indian people throughout the country aimed at taking away their land and their independence as a free and sovereign people. It is now felt that the false promise that came at the end of the Fifth Fire was the materials and riches embodied in the way of life of the light skinned race. Those who abandoned the ancient ways and accepted this new promise were a big factor in causing the near destruction of the native people of this land.
When the Sixth Fire came to be, the words of the prophet rang true as children were taken away from the teachings of the Elders. The boarding school era of "civilizing" Indian children had begun. The Indian language and religion were taken from the children. The people started dying at a early age ... they had lost their will to live and their purpose in living.
In the confusing times of the Sixth Fire, it is said that a group of visionaries came among the Anishinabe. They gathered all the priests of the Midewiwin Lodge. They told the priests of the Midewiwin Way was in danger of being destroyed. They gathered all the sacred bundles. They gathered all the scrolls that recorded the ceremonies. All these things were placed in a hollowed out log from the Ironwood tree. Men were lowered over a cliff by long ropes. They dug a hole in the cliff and buried the log where no one could find it. Thus the teachings of the Elders were hidden out of sight but not out of memory. It is said that when the time came that the Indian people could practice their religion without fear a line boy would dream where the Ironwood log, full of sacred bundles and scrolls, was buried. He would lead his people to the place.
The seventh prophet that came to the people long ago said to be different from the other prophets. He was young and had a strange light in his eyes. He said,
"In the time of the Seventh Fire New People will emerge. They will retrace their steps to find what was left by the trail. Their steps will take them to the Elders who they will ask to guide them on their journey. But many of the Elders will have fallen asleep. They will awaken to this new time with nothing to offer. Some of the Elders will be silent because no one will ask anything of them. The New People will have to be careful in how they approach the Elders. The task of the New People will not be easy.
"If the New People will remain strong in their quest the Water Drum of the Midewiwin Lodge will again sound its voice. There will be a rebirth of the Anishinabe Nation and a rekindling of old flames. The Sacred Fire will again be lit.
"It is this time that the light skinned race will be given a choice between two roads. If they choose the right road, then the Seventh Fire will light the Eighth and final Fire, an eternal fire of peace, love brotherhood and sisterhood. If the light skinned race makes the wrong choice of the roads, then the destruction which they brought with then in coming to this country will come back at them and cause much suffering and death to all the Earth's people."
Traditional Mide people of Ojibway and people from other nations have interpreted the "two roads" that face the light skinned race as the road to technology and the other road to spiritualism. They feel that the road to technology represents a continuation of headlong rush to technological development. This is the road that has led to modern society, to a damaged a seared Earth. Could it be that the road to technology represents a rush to destruction? The road to spirituality represents the slower path that traditional native people have traveled and are now seeking again. This Earth is not scorched on this trail. The grass is still growing there.
The prophet of the Fourth Fire spoke of a time when
"two nations will join to make a mighty nation."
He was speaking of the coming of the light skinned race and the face of brotherhood that the light skinned Brother could be wearing. It is obvious from the history of this country that this was not the face worn by the light skinned race as a whole. That might nation spoken of in the Fourth Fire has never been formed.
If the Natural people of the Earth could just wear the face of brotherhood, we might be able to deliver our society from the road to destruction. Could we make the two roads that today represent two clashing world views come together to form a mighty nation? Could a Nation be formed that is guided by respect for all living things? Are we the people of the Seventh Fire?Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Ellen Moves Camp--Hero of Wounded Knee...
Ellen Moves Camp—Hero of Wounded Knee
By Stephanie Hedgecoke
Published Jun 8, 2008 9:34 PM
Photo: Anne Pearse Hocker
By Stephanie Hedgecoke
Published Jun 8, 2008 9:34 PM
Photo: Anne Pearse Hocker
Ellen Moves Camp, known along with Gladys Bissonnette as the “Grandmas of the American Indian Movement (AIM),” passed April 5 at the age of 77 on Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. Moves Camp and Bissonnette played key roles before, during and after the 1973 occupation of Wounded Knee, which moved the Indigenous struggle into the view of the whole world.
The struggles of Indigenous people globally are illustrated in the story of Ellen Moves Camp and Wounded Knee.
The Lakota Nation’s title to most of South Dakota and parts of Montana and Nebraska, including the Black Hills (Paha Sapa), was recognized in the 1868 Fort Laramie Treaty. George Armstrong Custer took miners to the Black Hills to find gold and the U.S. broke the treaty and stole 34 million acres of land, leaving the Lakota divided among separate reservations. Over time that land base was further eroded as the Oglala Lakota were forced to lease their land to ranchers for pennies.
In the 1970s, the federal government moved Oglala families into cluster housing to reduce spending on utilities, freeing more land to be leased by cattle ranchers. Meanwhile over 100 Indians had been murdered in racist white towns surrounding Pine Ridge.
Unemployment was at 90 percent. Traditional families and activists were attacked by the Bureau of Indian Affairs-installed reservation government of Dick Wilson and his paramilitary GOONs (Guardians of the Oglala Nation), armed by the FBI. Wilson signed over some 200,000 acres of land to the U.S. for a bombing range.
Underlying these events, the U.S. had secret plans to turn the Paha Sapa into a “National Sacrifice Zone.” The continent’s richest deposits of weapons-grade uranium lie under the bombing range. Uranium and coal were to be mined, over 188,000 acres destroyed, and incredibly toxic smog and debris would have poisoned the region and destroyed countless square miles of waterways and ponds.
Energy companies signed up to create dozens of coal-fired plants to surround the Black Hills and build a “nuclear energy park” of 25 reactors. Test drilling began on a huge scale. Leaking uranium poisoned the aquifer, the only source of drinking water.
Resistance at Wounded Knee
On the basis of estimates of half a billion dollars in uranium revenue, the U.S. was determined to eliminate AIM and traditional opposition. But the strength of resistance at Wounded Knee forced the Interior Department to retreat from some of its plans.
In 1973 traditional elders with the Oglala Sioux Civil Rights Organization (OSCRO) called AIM to Pine Ridge to protect the people from the GOONs. Denied access to the BIA building at Pine Ridge by federal marshals, AIM held a meeting at Calico with 600 supporters where 1,500 grievances against the BIA and Wilson were taken in a two-day meeting. Then traditional elders Ellen Moves Camp and Gladys Bissonnette stood and challenged the men to take action.
AIM warrior Dennis Banks said of that meeting: “The decision to take Wounded Knee came when Ellen Moves Camp pointed at us and said, ‘What are you men going to do about it?’ If the women hadn’t done that we’d still be meeting at Calico.”
Clyde Bellecourt recalled Bissonnette asking AIM, “Haven’t you heard enough? Go back to Minneapolis, Milwaukee, Los Angeles or Portland. We are going to stand here and be warriors.” He said that he “was stunned by that confrontation with an elderly woman, wrinkles all over her face.”
Wounded Knee was chosen for the takeover protest as it was still held by the Lakota community. The village is the site of the 1890 historic massacre of Big Foot’s band of 300 Lakota Sioux women, men and children as they were peacefully moving to the Pine Ridge Reservation to avoid starvation. Instead, they were viciously murdered by the U.S. Army Seventh Cavalry in the snow. The world had heard of Wounded Knee through Dee Brown’s book, “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee.”
Some 200 Native people went to Wounded Knee on Feb. 27, 1973, to hold an early morning press conference. The government attacked. The press conference was never held. And the big business media did not report the total government deployment of 17 armored personnel carriers, 130,000 rounds of M-16 ammunition, 41,000 rounds of M-40 high explosives for grenade launchers, helicopters and other aircraft. An army assault unit in Colorado was put on 24-hour alert.
The standoff held the attention of the world. Support committees formed to help educate non-Native people about the conditions of the Indigenous on the reservations, and the significance of Native American Indian culture, language and the land in the fight against genocide.
During the 71-day struggle against the U.S. military assault of the National Guard and armed FBI agents, Moves Camp served as negotiator for the protesters with the Justice Department. As Banks recalls: “Once the strength was reawakened with the Oglalas, they became the principal negotiators—especially the women. Because it was their future. From there, AIM took a backseat. The further we stepped back, the further the Oglalas stepped forward.”
Moves Camp was from Wanblee and had lost family members in the 1898 massacre. During the military assault in 1973, her nephew Buddy Lamont was one of two Indians killed. On the occasion of the 1998 commemoration of the struggle, Ellen Moves Camp said it’s “just a matter of time before another Wounded Knee and ... a violent confrontation with the U.S. government.”
On the loss of Ellen Moves Camp, Native political prisoner Leonard Peltier said: “Those of us who really knew her will dearly miss her as she was a big inspiration to all of us. She loved and fought for her People and the Nation without ever once that I know of complaining or asking for something for her personal use.”
Ellen Moves Camp stands as an inspiration to Indigenous people in struggle everywhere.
Sources include articles by Ian Record, Lakota Student Alliance; Jon Lurie’s article on the 25th anniversary of Wounded Knee for the Pulse of the Twin Cities; and the Sioux Falls Argus Leader.
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