Saturday, April 29, 2006

 

Last Day

After finishing writing here at the BOO, yesterday, I had a wonderful conversation with my friend Cynthia. This was a wonderful "pick me up" before I headed into my last day at work. Cynthia is doing well and may have some part time work for me in the future.

And the sun was so bright and beautiful that I just mosied my whole way to work.

On Burnside near the Park blocks, I saw a skinny poor young man begging for money from a man who chastises his fellow human being. As if things weren't hard enough for the guy, the man he begs from treats him like shit for his condition. Like he needs that. "I'm not only NOT going to give you money, but here is some verbal abuse just so you don't walk away empty handed," is what the message was from this man seems to be. I pulled a whole bunch of change out of my pocket, walked right in front of Mr. Verbal Abuse, and dropped it into the cupped hands of the poor skinny man whose expression gave me thanks in exchange.

I by-passed the little piece of what can be compared to a "personal hell," and went right to Moonstruck where Danielle hooked me up with a nice hot chocolate, and I think of you, my dear. And then I'm there, and I don't want to be there. I don't want to be at that place anymore. After about 45 mintues worth of work, I wanted to leave, but Carolyn talked me into staying. They were short on staff for the day.

I took my first break by grabbing the two books I'm reading then going out front to the comfy chair on the "free stoop" where we put all of our free stuff and took a little rest. I've done this type of thing before when the conditions were right. Then the assistant manager came out and informed me that it didn't look good for the store that I was sleeping out front in the comfy chair when my unsightly self would be much more appreciated out of sight. OK, I'm starting to speak with a little anger, but this was my LAST DAY folks. Plus, I've done that numerous times before and so have many others and...well...sales never went down the projected 95% that they assumed they would. In fact, most people find the laid back atmosphere (which isn't as laid back as it appears) welcoming. No pressures to buy. You go in, find treasure from people who don't take any of this too seriously. Anyway...like I was saying, it was made clear that my little stunt was unappreciated. "Whatever!" I repeated several times through gritted teeth, put away my books, and left my bag in the store as I walked out for a 45 minute walk break added to the 7 minutes already spent sleeping on the chair.

During this wonderful walk, I got to see Beautiful trees and flowers and plants. I got to sniff several iris's which are my favorite flower. The scent of iris is so soft and sweet...mmmmm! I talked with my friend Leigh Anne during this journey who suggested I go get a truffle in order to deal with my tension. HEY...IT WORKED! Wild Huckleberry Truffle from Moonstruck...[pardon drool on shirt]

Where was I? Oh yeah! I got back expecting conflict with the assistant manager on my last day, and it didn't happen. I found out later from Carolyn that she was upset with me. I told Carolyn I was upset too for the above mentioned reasons. Feh! It's over with.

My lunch was sweetened with a call from my Lover-Love, Mikhelle. We talked for half an hour and my lunch lasted almost an hour...Life is so Good! I Love Mikhelle so much and I am so glad we got to spend that last little bit of my work together on opposite sides of turtle's back with her.

After the assistant manager left for the day, and it was down to us final three, I was asked to sit in the back as Carolyn had other work to take care of. Due to my lack of enthusiasm, my defiance, and the fact that everything was pretty much done in the back, I mosied out to the "free stoop" where the only things left were a beat up coffee table, a beat up metal two drawer file cabinet, and a nice comfy sofa. Next thing I knew, there was a tractor beam pulling my ass to the torn cushions and I was sucked into the corner where it was coming from, one arm splayed across the back of the sofa, the other over the arm. As I laid there and called my honey and left a message about the beauty of the moment and looking up through the leaves with my feet up on top of the metal file cabinet, I noticed a sign taped to the back of the sofa that said..."free." I watched all the people walk by not interested in picking themselves up a free Indian, when I realized that the sign must mean that I am "free," as in enjoying a freedom. And the time is coming to fly, and it is only an hour or less away.

I bagged up all of the last treasure I would be buying there which was pretty damned cheap because I couldn't find anything I wanted to add to it. Most of it was books they were trying to throw away that I kept from going into the recycle bins when I was still driving.

Then Lisa appeared in the aisles of the store. She informed me Felicia was running around, who ran in circles with her friend Delores before finding me in one of the aisles she by-passed. Lisa took me out to dinner, and I was thankful, but even more amused. Melodie had made Lisa sound like she was some form of Satan Incarnate. As Lisa meets all of the people Melodie informed of Lisa's horribleness, they always say how nice she is. Lisa took me out to dinner with Felicia and her friend to celebrate my last day in this form of hell. It was a sweet capper to 21 months of work.

Soon, my last connection there will be gone, the last paycheck. I believe that I will just go in, pick it up without any form of incident or celebration, and I will walk out the door and into the rest of my life and whatever that may be. My connection with Mikhelle, for sure, Felicia, friends, projects, writing, speaking, helping, radio, TV, art...I won't be getting bored even if I don't become immediately employed. I have a few odd jobs lined up, too.

It is still a little hard to focus on the future without that last little scrap taken care of. Monday or Tuesday, depending upon our timings. No more rape energy, folks. No more rape energy! Enough is enough.

Today, I wore shorts, a red t-shirt, my red shoes, my felt hat, the bracelet David Liberty made for me, a white and blue flowery scarf, and I know I must just confuse the fuck out of some people, which is good. But today, it is not armour. Today, it is just a piece of Beauty. Life is Beautiful, and I look forward to every minute of it.

 

Letter to a 42-year-old Poet

Eugene,

DUDE
I forgot
your
Cheese!

Sorry
[heart] LA

Friday, April 28, 2006

 

I've Committed Myself to Writing a Poem About Labor and Immigration for May Day!

I cannot talk about Labor, without talking about immigration.

My friend Cynthia explained it best, and I paraphrase:

If you are from the North of Turtle Island all the way to the Southern tip of what is currently known as South America, you have more of a right to be here than the imperialist and arrogant people who are descendents from other parts of the world and who currently occupy by force the country currently known as the United States and the continents currently known as North and South America.

People Love to tell me immediately when I complain about issues such as this that I am half white. The reason why I am a mixed blood is because the imperialist invaders designed it that way (yes, their is documented evidence). That is part of the imperialist imposed genocide upon my people. Divide their blood, divide their people. Mixed bloods are not as pure and Beautiful and Human as those of purely non-indigenous ancestries. The imperialist invaders were too tired to exterminate us and decided to define us out of existence using white man mathematics through degrees of blood to define us out of existence. Lame Deer said, and I paraphrase, it's not you blood but what you do with it. I was designed to be this way. Divide their blood, divide their people. Millions of us were designed to be this way because it is much easier to tell me that I'm half white than to deal with the imperialist led genocide against my people. It is something that can be easily used to keep us separated. POOF! This nation refuses to deal with the crimes it has comitted against my people, and so many others, simply because...I am half white. We all benefit from genocide.

I found out a few things about the local history of a town just South of here called Silverton. Some 100 years ago, some white people had grown tired of the Indians hanging out on their lands and not recognizing their borders. The Indians did not understand their place in this world, which was to be dead and gone. So the locals in two different massacres slaughtered many Indians because they knew they would be allowed to get away with the crime because...well...we Indians weren't considered human beings, just like the people from the South that this culture alleges to be immigrants. Here, I will honor the name of Crooked Finger, a leader amongst his peoples who did his best to protect them from the slaughters led by the locals of Silverton.

That is the energy behind this nation: Imperialism and Genocide. It is NOT OK to behave in such a manner! Not here! Not ANYWHERE!

The only people who benefit from this cultural behavior are the wealthy. The wealthy have stolen their gain from we the people via genocide; imperialist dictates; military oppression; human rights violations; violations of local, state, national, and international laws... It benefits only the wealthy that the masses don't educate themselves and only listen to what the wealthy tell them.

In an attempt to impose a fascist regime in the United States to protect the wealth of the few that possess it, a wealthy man had a conversation with Smedley Darlington Butler in 1934. He wanted to buy Smedley, because they knew Smedley could raise an army to take over the U.S. govnernment. The man told Smedley he was willing to use half of his wealth to protect the other half. He knew he could use his money and the money of his other wealthy friends to pay people to kill their fellow human beings to overthrow the U.S. government and oppress the people of the nation using that military might. He could and was willing to create great suffering to insure his own personal wealth. Smedley, being an honorable man who Loved the people, told the man to get out of his house. I allege the U.S. government is nothing but a tool to protect the wealth of the few and it is evident in their behavior.

Fascists will stop at nothing. They will and do violate human rights. They will murder and slaughter and commit genocide. They will rape and promote a rape culture in order to protect their wealth. They will take away all the power of the workers to have a say over their work.

I believe it is safe to assume that most people do not know that forming a union is a human right! Most people don't know that labor has the human right to have a say over their work and its means of production! The imperialists don't want the people to know this because then the people may start to think. They might think things like: How does my work effect my health, mentally, physically, emotionally...? How does my work effect the world at large? How does it effect my community? Why don't I have a say in my employer sending my work overseas where labor is treated with such horrific human rights violations that one realizes that it is crminal? Corporate behavior is criminal. Why are we arresting pot smokers who don't harm people while these global criminals are allowed to violate the human rights of people all over the world? What kind of world would we create? We all have the power to reclaim our world in great and small actions, personal and en masse. What are you waiting for?

Don't ask me what you should or could do? Ask yourself! Talk with those around you. Educate yourself. Do what you can. Use your talents. Don't ask me what you could or should do? Figure it out! You know yourself well enough to understand your own talents and how you can use them to change the world. Like Helen Caldicott says, we are all born to save the world.

And don't forget to dance, dammit! Like Emma Goldman said, and I paraphrase: "If I can't dance at your Revolution, I aint gonna come!" Use the power of celebration, personal and en masse, to create the energy to keep yourself on a path of Beauty and change in the world. Beauty, Pleasure, Happiness, Joy, Sex, Unions, Friendship, Love, People, Nature, and many more of the wonderful Beauties are out there for you. Celebrate Beauty like you would have the seventh generation celebrate beauty and use that energy to create change.

DANCE! CELEBRATE! LOVE LIFE! BRING ABOUT CHANGE!

Taking up arms is not an option in my opinion. This nation has created many people who don't think and just follow orders and carry guns. These people are willing to kill by simply taking orders without question. So we have to be creative. We have to change the hearts of these people. Their souls have been stolen just as surely as this land has been stolen and occupied by the genocidal forces currently known as the United States.

Be creative! Be Beautiful! Feel and Love and Celebrate Life! What do you want for the generations yet to come? Find it, create it, learn from it, and keep your eyes on that goal! We'll get there, one at a time and en masse!

REVOLUTION NOW!

 

Last day at work tonight!

The show was beautiful yesterday! We interviewed two people from the Caledonia occupation in the occupied territories currently know as Ontario, Canada. The Six Nations people are reclaiming the land that is theirs. My favorite part by far was when Hazel Hill said they are following Six Nations Laws, so they don't need legal representation. They are doing what is right on their land. FUCKING A! Many Blessings to the Six Nations People and their wonderful successes!

A great big Thank You to Leigh Anne for arranging the interviews with Jacqueline House and Hazel Hill about the Caledonia Reclaiming of Six Nations Land. Kudos to you sister!

We managed to get our four other guests in as well. Rudy and Janet from UISHE, and Chris Francisco from "For Generations Yet to Come" film festival, and to finish off with some Beautiful Island Blues from Victor Mandan. Fucking Awesome show!

Spent the evening hanging out with Leigh Anne and discussing life and having burritos. We walked along the ridge in sellwood above Oaks Bottom. Wow! What A View of the world.

I got to walk Mikhelle to her car during that time...LIFE IS SO FUCKING SWEET!

Today is my last day on the job...WOO-HOO! I have given into the fact that it is hard for me to think of my future while still being there. It starts to suck my energy in, I let it suck my energy in, and then I struggle to pull it out and then I get nothing but confused. Today will be healing for me as I walk away from the store as an employee. I'm not sure if they'll get me my check today of if I'll be waiting until Monday to completely sever that connection. I hope it is all done today, but I think they like to have that power over, as well, as has been apparent throught my dealings with them and the dealings with my fellow employees as I've witnessed and heard. Once it's over, it will be over, and I can focus more on the future. I have a couple of odd jobs lined up, one with Cynthia and her herb business, one house sitting, I was hoping to sell books, but I'm no longer sure what the heck is going on and just suspect that it aint gonna happen, so I am not relying on that at all. I have an art project lined up with Mikhelle. I'm gonna learn production here and see if I can toss out some produced materials to Native syndicated web radio stuff, maybe make a few bucks. It'll be easier to focus when the time comes.

I suggest you all take a look at my friend Julie's blog. She did an interview with an army reserve soldier and some of the things he says are very telling of the way some people think, or don't, as it were. www.littlestblog.blogspot.com. Pay close attention to the wonderful picture she has of herself up there. Great work, Julie!

Thursday, April 27, 2006

 

Six Nations Caledonia Resource Page, and contact information

This is a page that gives the history and updates of the Caledonia development occupation.

http://auto_sol.tao.ca/node/view/2012

This e-mail address was given to us by Hazel Hill, who helps in the current occupation. You can get regular updates by being on a list or getting information.

thebasketcase@on.aibn.com

 

Announcments from "Mitakuye Oyasin" 4-27-06

ANNOUNCEMENTS

**The Native American Rehabilitation Association issponsoring a Children's Mental Heath Celebration. The event takes place next Wednesday, May 3rd from6:30-8:00 PM at St. Andrews Community Center at 806 NEAlberta St. in Portland. For more information,contact Shawn Jackson @ 503-224-1044

**The Native Community Employment Services Program ishosting an Orientation on May 8th. Drop by the NAYAFamily Center from 10:00 AM–12:00 Noon OR from6:30-8:30 PM to learn about Job Readiness Workshops,Employment Support, GED Assistance and ContinuedEducation. There will also be a Job Hunting Workshopon May 10th from 4:00–6:00PM.For more information, call NAYA at: (503) 288-8177The NAYA Family Center is located at 4000 N.Mississippi Ave. (at the corner of Shaver St.) inPortland.

**NAYA offers Foster Parent support meetings the thirdWednesday of each month. This is a dinner anddiscussion group for anyone raising non-biologicalchildren (for example foster parents, adoptiveparents, or relatives providing care to relatives). The next meeting is Wednesday, May 17th from 6:30-8:00PM at the NAYA Family Center

**NAYA is also offering a Positive Indian Parentingprogram. Parents will explore the values andattitudes expressed in traditional Indianchild-rearing practices and apply them to modernparenting. Classes take place Wednesday nights from 6:00-8:00 PM,through the end of May. Please call Nora Farwell at503-288-8177. These classes are also held at the NAYAFamily Center.

**Mexica Tiahui (“Meh-shee-ka Tee-ow-ee”) aPortland-based Aztec cultural and educational group isholding a Flor Y Canto Fundraiser to support theirwork in bringing the community together throughIndigenous traditions.The event takes place Saturday, May 27th (Memorial DayWeekend) from 10:30 PM – 1:00 AM. They’ve rented thePortland Spirit and the upstairs deck will haveCaribbean favorites. Downstairs will be regionalLatino Hip Hop, Mexica, Cumbia, and Nortenas. This is a non-alcoholic event for ages 18 and over. Tickets are $15 in advance, $20 at the door.For tickets and information, contact Willan at:503-779-5699 or runakuna@hotmail.com

**The Portland State University Native AmericanStudent and Community Center is looking for avolunteer Wed Designer to train the staff to managetheir website. Please contact Sara Vandehey(“Van-da-HIGH”) at 503-725-9697 or sav@pdx.eduThe center is located in downtown Portland at 710 SWJackson Ave.

POW WOWS

April 28th—Beaverton High School Native American ClubPowwow7:00—11:00 PM at Beaverton High School, 13000 SW 2ndStreet in Beaverton. For more information call, 503-614-1490

April 29th—South Umpqua 27th Annual Powwow. At South Umpqua High School, 501 NE Chadwick Lane,Myrtle Creek OR. Grand Entry for Children 2:00pm. Dinner 4:30 pm. GrandEntry 6:00 pm. For more information, contact James Marshall at541-672-0314

 

Post 400

Holy shit, I wrote 400 posts on this thing...I think I need a 12 step program...JUST KIDDING!

Woke up this morning working on my good thoughts. I wondered why it was so difficult today, and I realized I'm going to work today. Only for about 3 hours, but still... I understand more about the knowledge that sometimes one has to move on from something that is unhealthy to find their focus on that which is beautiful and be able to find those things that are healthy for us, economically, emotionally, spiritually, etc.

I'm getting more pissed off about what is going on in Caledonia. I'm going to do work that people know that this IS another Oka. Indians are just tired of this arrogant fucking bullshit!

OK. Let me give you an example of this type of attitude that so FUCKING pisses me off, but I usually let fall from my shoulders. There is a sign at about 15th and Couch in NW right by 405, that talks of some generous white man giving land in that particular area back in the 1800s for a medical school. How generous. But where did that white man get that land? By simply claiming it as his own and removing the people who already lived there by FORCE! There is no history in this town prior to the White Man! Just ask them. Who were the Indians in this place? What did they do? What accomplishments did they have in their lives? No one cares because they aren't white, but worse than that, they are indigenous!

I have a combination of shit here to piss me off! Energize me into action! But I'm so angry at this shit, I really have to focus as I head into my rape energy to hang out with my two buddies one more time. AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Ok, a little better.

[breathe...breathe...breathe]

This weekend I will be doing a sweat. A "woipila" ceremony! A thank you to the spirits in the form of a sweat for the healing I've gone through, the separation of me physically from that which reminds me consistently of my rape, the awakening to Lover Love, the opening to Lover Love from Mikhelle, the opening to whatever future directions I'm being headed (putting the prayers out there),

And here we are, brothers and sisters. Here we are! May we all do what we can!

I send a big fat beautiful

THANK YOU! LEIGH ANNE! YOU ARE SO AWESOME!

I send a big fat beautiful

I LOVE YOU, MIKHELLE! THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND ALL YOU DO ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TURTLES BACK! YOU ARE SO WONDERFUL AND AWESOME AND I LOVE YOU SO DEARLY!

The sun is so Beautiful outside today! I know the walk will be wonderful across the bridge back and forth.

I went to my Polynesian Dance Class yesterday. It is so fun! But we are doing all women's dances! I Love learning to move my hips in ways that they haven't before and it feels like it is awakening things in my soul as well as my body...yummy! It is odd, yet not so odd to me to think about this. I mostly don't care for male activity all that much. But most male activity is defined by watching sports on TV, talking about women as sex objects, attempts at domination interpersonally, etc. But I'd Love to learn the Polynesian male dances as well. In these activities, I want to feel the balance. I want to learn the dances where men and women interract. Me. This seems more like a male activity than watching sports or playing them for that matter. I know, it's the sports industry telling me what sports is supposed to be like.

But seriously, I Love the hip movements. I Love them a lot. I'm not that good at them, but practice practice practice. Hips, balance, the creations of life, the basis of life, Love and Desire. Expressions of passion and beauty and desire... I Love the hip movements. I Love the whole thing, but the movement of the hips is what fills me with Beauty and Desire, no matter the fact that currently I aint all that good at it, but I did improve from the first to the second class.

So this is post 400, and I want to leave with one more sentence!

I LOVE YOU, MIKHELLE!

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

 

Mohawk Occupation

I just read my first article about the current occupation of 40 hectares of land by the Mohawk Nation. It is a protest against the current occupational forces of the Canadian government. There is a LOT OF RACISM against Indians in this area.

http://cnews.canoe.ca/CNEWS/Canada/2006/03/22/pf-1500487.html

The occupation started 8 weeks ago and boils down to the fact that the Mohawk are just tired of the ILLEGAL encroachment of the imperialist and oppressive government who exerts its rights via being WHITE and their rights of conquest. These are my opinions, of course. However, rights of conquest are only supposed to go one way and the Indians are just supposed to take it up the ass because that is the way it has worked since the genocidal forces came to their country. Basically the Indians are supposed to know their place, which is on their bellies getting continually raped by the Canadian Government.

Leigh Anne is currently working on seeing if we can get someone on the phone for tomorrows radio show, from 1:30 to 3:00pm tomorrow afternoon on KBOO 90.7 fm, www.kboo.fm.

On Monday, some 500 citizens of Caledonia, Ontario, where this protest is taking place, tried to attacke the protesters and mostly managed to get the cops, who actually seem to be protecting the Indians this time, unlike Oka. I will never forget watching the cops let the convoy of "non-combatants" during the Oka occupation be attacked via stones from the white racist protesters who managed to murder an old man and a baby. Boy, do I hate cops. And I will never forget seeing the Canadian military willing to kill Indians for the imperialist pleasures of the Mayof of Oka to allow a golf course to be built ILLEGALLY over a Mohawk burial ground. THESE, my friends, are the peoples whose hearts we have to change. These are the people we have to become allies with because we have more in common with them than the wealthy whose wealth they protect.

Like I quoted of the wealthy man talking with Smedley Butler that he would use half of his wealth to protect the other half by hiring the poor to oppress their fellow poor to contain their personal wealth. This is nothing different other than the fact that the wealthy channel the peoples tax money to oppress the people instead of using their own ill gotten wealth.

Anyway, just my opinions there. Please inform yourselves on this issue and spread the word!

Love you all! REVOLUTION NOW!

 

Updates

It's been a bit since I've written here. I think I'm just gonna play catch up with you all and ask for special prayers.

Cynthia is on the verge of losing her house. It is a stressful challenge when one faces forclosure as she has several times. It brings up a lot of self-esteem, self-worth, etc. She is an awesome human being and is currently hurting from this and other things. I think she can handle the other stuff well, but if you all would add her to your prayers, it would be much appreciated.

Felicia went home on Sunday, and Cynthia came over and picked me up. We went shopping for clothes at a factory outlet mall near Woodburn. It wasn't so bad because I had good company. Usually these types of places bother the shit out of me and the only way I can handle them if I find myself heading there is if I'm stoned. We got to her Beautiful home in the hills outside of Silverton and talked into the wee hours of the night.

The view of the stars from her property is amazing. We smoked cigarettes (she is the only person I smoke cigarettes with) and prayed and discussed our project and life in general.

[Lisa Loving just stopped by and gave a flying faery pose with an expression that made me laugh and clap. KBOO is wonderful!]

Monday, we got up and started creating maps to get us to where we need to go with our project. It was beautiful out.

We went to the sweat on Monday. Little Buffalo poured water, and he had me help out. I was honored but also confused since this was the first time I've sweated with Little Buffalo. It was a great ceremony and many wonderful and personal things happened in there. I kept seeing a lot of light, but knew it wasn't really light...I think. Strange, yet comforting and sweet. My prayer for myself initially came out as one word, "trust." Initially I didn't want to say anymore, but felt the urge to elaborate. Like the way I'm dealing with my job, instead of walking out on Friday, giving a week notice, and no, I really don't give a shit about a reference from them. So I started telling of my trust for myself to fall in Love with Mikhelle. To trust Love from Mikhelle. To trust spirit to motivate me to leave my work for something better which I currently cannot physically see. To trust in this project with Cynthia. To trust the feelings I receive from spirit. ...To trust myself. None of those words needed to be said, but I said them and it was beautiful. I LOVE YOU MIKHELLE! I ALSO LOOK FORWARD TO SWEATING WITH YOU SOON!

I also got to be a shoulder for a friend to cry on. Cynthia cried a lot on my shoulder and we sat in her truck for about an hour and a half after we pulled up to her house. It was so good! She is such a wonderful human being. I am so glad to call her friend.

Cynthia took me to work the following day, and just for the fuck of it, I went in two hours late. We had coffee at Grendel's and still started finding things for us to look into that might be helpful for the project we are working on.

I went to work and felt that nasty dirty feeling, and realized the biggest reason I gave my notice instead of just walking out was so I could hang out with Carly and Carolyn a few more times. Although we will be keeping in touch, we won't be spending so much time together.

I then went and hung out with my friend Danielle. We watched a wonderful movie that I reccomend to one and all called, "Breakfast on Pluto." It is about an Irish tranny, and is so funny, tragic, and beautiful. We also talked a lot. Danielle does ceramic works that are truly an inner expression of her personal beauty and pain. We went to breakfast this morning where I sat next to an elderly couple from Virginia. I struck up a conversation with them because I Love you so, Mikhelle, and knew they lived in the same state on the other side of Turtle's back. Though I didn't ask if they knew you or of the city where you live, I felt like it was a beautiful connection between us. I Love you, Mikhelle.

Then I came here to the BOO to catch up on all of my stuff! There is so much!

As I was talking with Leigh Anne a little bit ago, she informed me she was unable to get Cecilia Fire Thunder, president of the Oglala Nation, to do an interview on tomorrows show! TOMORROW'S SHOW! OH FUCK! I'M ON THE AIR TOMORROW! I think Victor Mandan is coming down to play music, and I requested that Leigh Anne look into someone doing an interview with us about what is currently happening in Ontario with the Mohawk Nation. Sounds like another potential Oka, but I haven't read anything yet about what is happening.

Justin and Ani have both come up to me to ask if I had seen South Park last night. They told me of the Indian Casino episode. I didn't see it last night, but I've seen the episode before. A couple of my favorite parts were when the Indians decided to give the town sars infested blankets which the infected by rubbing blankets with sick Chinese men. Another part was when Stan made a journey to find the holy white medicine man who gave him the cure for sars, which happened to be chicken soup, dayquil, and sprite. This episode is so fucking funny. I laughed so hard my face hurt. If you get a chance to see it, do.

And that brings me to this moment! And there you all go. Many blessings to you all, more tomorrow!

Saturday, April 22, 2006

 

Trust...

I have let the spirits know that I trust them. All the roads leading to my right now are roads that have led me to trust.

I went to work on Friday and felt my usual discomfort. I checked the schedule for the following week and found that I had been scheduled to work on Sunday. Judi had gone an extended lunch with her new assistant manager, so I left her a note reminding her I would not be able to work on Sundays. I had the feeling she was pushing me out of the nest. Time to fly on your own, Indian.

I accept my own responsiblity in all of this. My little voices have been screaming at me to leave since I started my breakdowns.

I felt the dread of oncoming arguments and heated discussions.

I went on my break before Judi came back from her extended lunch and called my friend Cynthia to discuss getting together this weekend to work on our writing project. I told her what was going on at my work. She encouraged me to move on because sometimes we just need to be out of a negative situation in order to see clearly what it is we have to do next. She gave me a few examples from experiences in her own life and reminded me I have a strong safety net. I chose to trust.

I got to the store and added a PS to the note saying that next Friday will be my last day. Judi eventually came back. She is going on vacation before I return to work on Tuesday and her last words to me were said with a sweet smile. "I read your note," she said as we passed each other in the back.

"OK," I said. I expected more, but it is time for me to move on and it would be of no use in the closure of our relationship anyway.

I call out to you, that new work, economy, or whatever you may be! You want to dance with me! I want to dance with you! Let's dance together! I put my trust in you and know you are out there! I trust the spirits and the feelings I have about this!

My trust really took a dance with Mikhelle. I trust Mikhelle with my Love, body, mind, and spirit, and we haven't met physically, but we've definitely met. I thank you, my Lover-Love, as our relationship continues to grow in Beauty! I Love you so dearly!

Trust...

I trust the prayers I made for this event.

Trust...

I trust the prayers I made for healing.

Trust...

I trust...

I trust...

I trust...

...myself and my ability to make good decisions for myself.

I did tell you I Love you, didn't I, Mikhelle? In case I didn't as the screen has risen too high for me to make sure, and besides, it's just so sweet to write it to you again, my Lover-Love, I Love you so Dearly.

Trust

Guide me to my new economy, work, or whaever it is out there that I'm supposed to be with now, spirits. I am calling to you, the other economy or whatever it is that is calling to me. We are calling each other and will soon find each other in a good way. It all sounds so familiar. See you when we get together!

Smells like Revolution! LET'S DANCE!

Friday, April 21, 2006

 

Rachel Corrie

Rachel Corrie, one of two women I dedicate my readings to (the other being Fern Holland), whom the, "My Name is Rachel Corrie" is about, was banned in Manhattan. In the allegedly more liberal Canada, in the city of Toronto, the play has had to go underground. This wonderful woman who took a principled stance and gave up her robe which was stolen from her by an Islraeli bulldozer driver in an American made bulldozer it can be alleged is looked down upon by the patriarchies of the illegal occupying forces of the Great Turtle Island currently known as the United States and Canada.

I don't know about you, but I think I'm gonna see if I can't get a hold of the script and maybe put something out on the air.

Rachel and Fern are both heroes of mine, and to silence their stories is BULLSHIT!

Read the story:

http://www.commondreams.org/headlines06/0421-06.htm

 

Don't Piss Grandma Off

Granny protesters are being prosecuted in Manhattan. They are anti-war protesters and there are 18 of them in all ranging from 61 to 94. How fucking embarassing for this nation. [Shaking head at the embarassing imerialist powers currently known as the United States Government who arrest old women for principled stances.]

http://www.commondreams.org/headlines06/0421-07.htm

 

Work, Show, Love, and I forgot the other stuff

And today is another Beautiful day.

It is raining outside, or at least beautifully wet.

I took the second bus and hung out in the energy of that community again.

I still wake up angry about work, but on a volume of 0-10, it's about a 1.5 today. I'm making peace, but that energy is still clearing out of me. Yesterday, at work, I started my day by putting my cedar spray in my apron pocket with my work gloves. At 10am, as the store was opening, I went to put my gloves on in front of the door, launching my cedar spray from my pocket where it crashed on the floor. Cedar, as Cynthia has told me, since she is the one that made the spray, is good for cleansing and creating a neutral energy. This was a serious metaphor concerning my work. Boss woman would only smile at me what seemed to be a forced smile. I guess they are short on staff and that is part of the reason for not just booting my ass out the door. Tommy is still not talking with me. I even put myself in places where he is. When he is talking with Carolyn, I'll stand by Carolyn and smile. He'll finish what he has to say and then walks off. Carly and I are on his black list, and it is humorous. I'm riding the waves of this and just know that something else is calling me. There is something out there that will not only benefit my economy, but where I am supposed to make connection.

Native Nations went well, again! GREAT BIG APPLAUSE for Jim, our producer, Ellen his assistant, Kelly who wasn't there, our two camera men Mike and Pepsi Paul, Leigh Anne for the ride and laughter and sharing, David for getting Phillip down there, Eugene for being there and asking questions, Phillip for coming down and sharing his masks humor and stories, and to the staff at MCTV for making all of it possible. Phillip Charette was awesome. What a wonderful human being. He wants to hang out and I can tell he will be a good friend. I already feel like he is! A whole lotta life this Yupik artist human has lived! I have a new appreciation for Live TV especially after spending 6 hours in the studio last weekend to do the final shooting for my poem video.

The icing on the cake, though, was as we were saying our see you laters, Mikhelle called just as I was giving a hug to Phillip! YEAH! I didn't think I would hear from her until Friday. And what timing! We talked for about half an hour and I got all giddy and weak in the knees and so happy and feeling so marvelously beautiful to hear her wonderful and Beautiful voice on the other side of Turtles Back!

MIKHELLE! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! IT WAS SO DELICIOUS TO HEAR YOUR VOICE AT JUST THE PERFECT TIME! YOU ARE SO WONDERFUL AND BEAUTIFUL AND I LONG FOR YOU SO! THE ACHE OF LOVE AND DESIRE I FEEL FOR YOU IS SO BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL! I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU SO MUCH!

Ummm...[straighten lime green and bright pink scarves that cover Che Guevara's picture on my shirt, straigten new felt hat that many people have told me makes me look like a pirate] I only say those things above because, well, they're true!

...I know I was gonna say something else... Well, I guess I don't really need to. If I remember I'll try to blog about it before I leave this wonderful radio station known as the GREAT AND GLORIOUS KBOO!

Much Love all of your ways!

Thursday, April 20, 2006

 

Silhouette

Good Morning, folks!

It is another beautiful day here in Portland, Oregon. The Eastern Horizon was a beautiful dusty orange that silouhetted the hills and mountains. Mt. Hood was crowned in a cloud. Beauty, my friends. There is much beauty in the world, right there! And right there! And right there!

Last night I went to my Polynesian dance class. I Love the hip movements. They are so sexy and beautiful and tough for me to recreate. But it is fun, and I laugh and enjoy the beauty of it all. It tickles my soul!

Hello, Lover-Love! I Love you so, Mikhelle!

Things are moving in the world folks! Keep your heads up and your eyes open, except, of course, when you are sleeping, but especially when you are dancing. Get out there and dance, as I danced across the bridge seven spins to honor the prayers of my ancestors and laugh at the beauty in the world as the sun illuminated the horizon like a giant orange being offered to the world to quench our thirst for beauty!

Today is April 20, 4-20, 420, and I will not smoke this day. And I am reminded by a scar below my right breast of a bike accident I had the day my first wife cancelled on a mediation during our divorce, and I could not blame her for the war that was happening at the time. All is beautiful now. And I will not smoke, to celebrate this day, though I would like to. Smoking is such a beautiful thing and makes my heart sing. But there is another beautiful intoxication in my life, and you know who you are.

Today would have been Lord Buckley's 100th Birthday, and I believe I have talked my ride into spending some time at the event to commemorate this interesting, funny, and tragic human being whose humor has started this wonderful little annual celebration of this fellow human being.

Tonight, on Native Nations, we will have Phillip Charette (sp!) a mask maker. You can see his amazing work at www.yupikmask.com. Join us at 6pm on channel 11, MCTV.

And if you trip over something Beautiful, as I pray you all do this glorious day, smile and thank the Beauty and share yours as well!

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

 

Think Good Thoughts

And yet again!
I awoke this morning,
barely remembering my dreams
feeling happy,
then becoming angry.
My energy was so focused on that
which I can do nothing about
and a path on which I have led myself.
My responsibility.
It is not the responsibility of my co-workers,
the head honcho in his suits two sizes too big,
but mine.
We are all just dancing along
together in this energy.

Reading Rilke
as he discusses writing
with a young poet,
I suddenly find myself thinking of Raven and Seagull.
How Seagull had stolen the sun
and Raven,
tired of wandering in the darkness,
understanding that the people
were suffering greatly
decided to take the journey to retrieve the sun
from Seagull.
"Keep good thoughts in your heart for me,"
he requested of all the peoples.

And where have my good thoughts been?
Many have remained with me,
My Love for Mikhelle,
The Love of my friends,
The desire for it all back,
The desire to reach across turtles back
to touch you, my Love,
To feel our bodies melt as one
To feel our souls melt as one.

But this pain has been horrible, my friends
My thoughts brutally vindictive
and all within the boundaries of acceptable
behavior in this culture
but not acceptable in mine
I rode the rough waves
and you all have carried me through
and I send blessings and Love your way
to all of you
because you all deserve it.

Suddenly I felt lighter and beautiful,
Even though I just pulled
a hunk of eggyolk
from my beard,
a remnant of this mornings breakfast
that makes me surprised that Blue,
our Food Obsessed puppy
all of 12 years old
had not knocked me down
and claimed as unclaimed food
for himself.

I take my time, this morning,
and take the second bus,
passing on conversations
with my favorite bus driver.
I read more of Rilke
when I felt the urge to put the book down
I look out the window and...
Everything is so Green.
And fuck!
I'm not even high!
And it is all so beautiful.

Suddenly,
I find myself amongst a bus community.
All these people talking
and maybe this is the only place they meet
on this second route of the morning
heading into town.
It is beautiful and amazing
and I imagine you with me, Mikhelle,
enjoying the beauty of this little community!
What fun!
And a woman talks of how she forgot her best friends birthday,
and they tease her
and I realize
Today is Heidi's birthday
so I play along with the crowd
pull out my cell phone,
call her up
as she was already awake before I left,
and I wish her a happy birthday
much to the delight of the crowd
who of course
is listening.

I cross the bridge,
and the sun is bright
and I stare into its beauty for a breath
and think of the Sundancers
who are walking their path to the creator
giving pieces of their body
because we truly only have that
for all of our lives
and then we offer it back
at the end.

And in my heart and mind
I make peace with all those I've been so angry with.
My boss, whom I imagine getting angry with me
for actions I take
and I just let her know
I Love her
because really...
what use has been the anger I've felt for her
these last few weeks.
I make peace with my replacement.
I make peace with my institutionally racist work mate
and I will leave the place in peace
which is much better than the bitter anger
I've been feeling.
I will leave there in peace and beauty
which is what I've prayed for and so desired.

I feel the healing from that prayer.
I feel the healing from that prayer.
I feel the healing from that prayer.
Beauty, Beauty, Beautiful...

And there you are,
my Love
on the other side of turtles back
and always in my soul and heart!
I Love you so, Mikhelle!
I Love you so!

Here at the BOO,
as I write this poem,
Carlos Chavez
tells me of his family history
and discusses one of my favorite subjects...FOOD!

Tonight I will start a Polynesian Dance Class
With Heidi.

Today I chose not to wear a hat.
I wear my scarf to the left,
one of my tie-dye like scarves,
I think of the scarf that touched your body
and rests on my bed
And today is another day!
And it is beautiful.

Eric, at Grendel's
let me bum coffee today
and he put extra whipped cream on top
and I think of you!
We talked of joy and good thoughts and beauty!
I ate the whipped cream from the top
in a joyful delight...

KBOO made its pledge drive goal,
The staff is starting to take
their much needed rests,
I will walk to my work
in the beautiful sunshine
and think of you, my Love.

Maybe it was the humor, yesterday,
as my friend Cynthia called
and I let her know what was going on in my life
and she told me of hers.
Her desire to step away from married men
who seem to pursue her above all others.
She went on a date with a man
to a sauna at a massage school
and when they were finished
he asked her what motivated her to go out with him.
And she told him
that she has been trying to break the spell of married men
that keep coming into her life.
And he tells her
that he is married,
but separated and lives just two doors down
from his wife.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

This morning as I walk into KBOO to write to you,
Chris tells me how her horse ran down the fence
to be with her in the garden,
and how all of her other horses
wanted to follow.
She waved her crutch,
and they changed their minds,
and she wrapped her arm around her horse and said,
"We're gonna walk back through the fence,
and you aren't gonna give me any problems."
They took their journey in peace.

Chris tells me her favorite quote of Nixon
as she tells me, "We're all fucked!" with a laugh.
"Fuck the damned!" is her favorite Nixon quote.
"Mine is; 'Pray with me Henry.'"
Chris laughs in a delight
that tickles my soul.

Mikhelle, I Love you so dearly!
That, My Love, is my favorite good thought of all.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

 

Toughy...Beautiful

Again,
I awoke happy and forgetting my dreams,
and in minutes
I was angry as I realized
I'm about to go to the place
of many ironies
where I work
and am punished by my vision
soul
and thoughts.

Two floor-droppers as I call them
I experienced yesterday
and I realized what they were
after much hindsight and prayer.
It is my soul leaving my body
in everyway but the pain.
It is rough and immediate and fierce
and I find myself in a ball on the floor
crying immensely at the bearable pain
I carry in my soul.
And I don't use the medicine that softens the blows
I don't use the medicine that keeps them from happening
because my workplace may fire me
and at the same time
I don't want to be there anyway,
but I ride the rough waves
and manage to bring out my sacred pipe
fill it with tobacco
and pray
with my tears and pain!
I pray with my tears in pain for healing!
I pray!

Anger pours from my soul
the rage of a cornered lion
but I'm not a cornered lion
and there are ways out
just as rough or more so
as being in...
and I hear a song
in the not so distance
of a place I am supposed to be
that will support my economy
and we will be medicines to each other.

And Lover-Love has come my way
and I wrap myself in her scarf
to feel what has touched her skin
for the distance of earth that separates us
does not separate our souls
and I Love her so dearly
and we look forward to being
in each others arms
as we sustain each others souls...

And the morning is cool and cold
the sky was clear at first
and the stars shown brightly in the sky
and I imagined lying on a blanket in the grass
looking up at the stars as we hold hands
and whisper secrets in each others ears.

My body aches
as I walk across the bridge
to write these words to you
and I left my tobacco at home
and spray cedar spray
made by my friend Cynthia
as I make each prayer.

And each prayer comes out as beauty
Each prayer comes out as a form of joy
A joy my body didn't feel this day
until that moment.
I Love you so dearly, Mikhelle.
You are so beautiful and wonderful
and everyday I Love you more and more!
Everyday, your love comes my way
in a complete Revolution.
Everyday we create beauty together.
I Love you so beautifully, Mikhelle.

I understand the power of poetry,
the word.
The humbling beauty
that has inspired people to publish my work,
inspired people to want to make video of my work,
guided me to you, Mikhelle.

My heart smiles
in my morning exhaution
unable to sleep at 2:30 in the morning
reading and writing
angry and Loving
touching the cloth
that has touched you.
I can bear this pain of healing
knowing that it will pass
and soon we will be together
to touch under the sky, clouds, and stars,
to hold each other
in the beautiful depths of our Love, Mikhelle.

I'd count the days,
but time has lost all meaning.

Monday, April 17, 2006

 

Angry

I wake up happy, almost every morning now. But as I start to realize my situation at work, it quickly turns to anger. I fantasize about vindictiveness. Telling the man who wears suits two sizes to big about all the pot smokers at work. About all the activities of those who aren't pot smokers and bringing his attention to their terminatable offesnses. But that is all that is. Just fantasies. Fantasies of letting my boss know, the man who wears suits two sizes too big, the board that makes decisions about the activities of this place.

I've decided to just ride those feelings. They are just feelings. Angry at myself for taking the journey here. In reality, it is a pain I need healing from. That is clear. I trust the feelings that I get and I'll be moving on in a good way soon.

I think of my Lover-Love, and my heart is filled with warmth and beauty. She wants to teach me skills that can help me gain control over my own economy. I have my fingers in many projects that might be able to make me money in the future. My publisher has control of my books and for some reason is not getting me any in which I have about a dozen sold. The books are out of quarantine, but we are not getting them out there and I have no idea what the problem is. *sigh*

Here I float, above the earth. My feet don't touch the ground. I am amazed and humbled that people believe so much in my work that we take the time to create a video of one of my poems, that we take the time to create this book, that people listen to my words on the radio and TV.

My housemate just called and reminded me about the Polynesian dance class on Wednesday's. It will be fun. I have to register. I keep forgetting. It will be healing and good for me.

I think for the most part, I just have to let go of that anger toward my work place. I cling to it. I claim it as mine like I claim my fingers that type these words to you. But it is anger. It is a feeling. It is healing. It is Loving. It is Caring. We are connected. But I give birth to it, to take on it's own life. To learn in the spirit world. To be beautiful in the world. To motivate life and regeneration in the world. To heal. I give myself permission to heal. I give myself permission to be successful. I give myself permission to receive abundance and share in the wealth with my Lover-Love, daughter, friends, family, community, etc. These are words I have to listen to carefully. I am a wordsmith. There is power in poetry. There is power within me. There is power within all of us. RECLAIM that power, brothers and sisters. Let's take over the world.

Time to go smoke a stogie, pray, walk along the Eastside park way, Waterfrom park, pray, laugh wonder, wander. Back in a few.

 

Grandmas and Grandpas

Shhh...
I whisper to myself.
The anger is OK.
The anger is justified.
But it is just anger.
You are good with anger.
Love your anger.
Feel it.
Enjoy.

Shhh...
I whisper to myself
Forgive your anger,
Forgive yourself,
Love yourself and Forgive yourself.
You have come here for a reason.

Listen.
Smoke.
Pray.
When you get home,
make yourself something to eat.
Clean your room,
fill your pipe.
Pray...
Pray...

"But what of prayer?"
I ask grandma and grandpa.
"I can't eat prayer.
Prayer won't keep a roof over my head.
Prayer won't buy my bus tickets
to get me back and forth to work."

Grandparents smile at me patiently.
My behavior
amazes me that they have patience with me at all.
They hold my hand,
their free hands on my shoulder.
They guide me in my journey.
They smile.
...trust...

Sunday, April 16, 2006

 

The Pudgy Indian's Story

My name is Eugene Johnson. I am also called "He Who Laughs A Lot." I am a member of the Siletz Nation with Alsea, Klickitat, and Lower Umpqua ancestry. I was adopted by the Blackfoot Nation. I am 42 years old. I started smoking pot about six or seven years ago.

I believe I got my current job because I smoke pot. During the interview I was asked, "why did you leave your last job?" I told the truth. I got let go because I wouldn't pass a U/A. I went into the story of why I chose to smoke pot. The interviewer informed me she grew pot legally for her son who is a medical marijuana patient. I got the driving job.

Because of my childhood traumas, I suffer from occasional breakdowns and depression. I refuse to do legal pharmaceuticals because of the damage they can do to my body, some of them being linked to cancer, and the pharmaceutical companies mark up the drugs thousndands of percent to profit investors and management. A little research taught me marijuana is less harmful than coffee, another one of my favorite drugs. Marijuana helps in stopping and reducing the effects of my trauma induced depression, as well as it makes me feel good.

I am a public figure in my community. I produce and host a Native American radio program for KBOO Community Radio called "Mitakuye Oyasin." I host a Native American television program called "Native Nations" for MCTV. I am a poet and recently published a book titled, "Tremble In Fear Before the Soft Pudgy Indian." I am outspoken about injustices going on outside my front door as well as globally. This type of behavior makes me a target.

An anonymous letter was sent to my workplace accusing me of being a pot smoker. This has resulted in me being pulled from my driving position (no accidents or tickets throughout my driving career there) and given a $3.09 per hour pay cut. To keep my job I had to sign an agreement with the company which stated I signed under my own free will, a lie. I signed for fear of losing my job. As well, I have had to quit smoking pot because sometime throughout the next year I will be given two randoms before I can be returned to my driving position and pay rate.

The reasoning behind this punitive punishment is that marijuana "is against the law," as the president of the company told me in a meeting with my boss and me. It is not against the law, it is against regulations. Violating this regulation can result in punitive punishment that can include life in prison. All of this for a substance that is safer than coffee and better for you.

As an Indian, as a high school graduate, as a self-educated layman of "the law," it doesn't take much research to discover that genocide is a crime that has been and is being used against indigenous nations in this country. Bringing this to the attention of the president of the company, he was unconcerned.

Since my current punishment for being a pot smoker, I have suffered a severe breakdown where I attempted to wipe the filth of the rape that happened to me at the age of five off of my body. For about five minutes I lost my self identity and was filled with desire to tear my face off. Everytime I go to work now, I become very depressed and often suffer minor breakdowns.

What I am forced to suffer through is not about the law. It is not about safety. It IS about control. The U.S. government has given the useful tool of marijuana regulation to companies to control their employees lives. Millions of people live in fear of punitive punishment for smoking pot. Real violations of the law that are often deadly to human beings and other life forms continue to go on undealt with and unpunished.

This story is only one story of undoubtedly millions that can be told. Unlike the anonymous letter writer, I am able to face my fears of being made a potential target and hand you my legal and spirit name to put in print.

Many blessings and much beauty and pleasure to you all. May this story motivate you into taking actions against injustice in our own back yards and worldwide.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it along with the other good stuff.

[Eugene Johnson is a loud mouthed angry Indian poet from Portland, Oregon. You can read more about him on his blog, www.pudgyindian.blogspot.com.]

 

Movin' On

Big wheels rollin'...
Gotta keep 'em rollin'
Big wheels rollin'
Movin' On!

As stated in the comments section of a previous post, the biggest message I am getting about my work is that some other place is seeking me out and my work there IS DONE! There is nothing more to be said or done there and the only reason I am there is to feel secure in my economy, but my mental health is being severely challenged. It is not healthy for me to be there, and there is a reason for that. That reason is stated in the first sentence of this paragraph.

My work fills me with desires to be vindictive in acceptable and legal ways. I could hurt many people there and the organization as a whole. Only four people have come forward to help and comfort me there. There are only four people I can trust there now. Two of whom I will have a definite connection with after I leave, and I will be leaving there by choice or by force.

I also get heavily depressed when I go there. I know that depression will leave me when I'm off from the days work, it is just having to edure it while I am there.

It really helps in keeping my eye on the bigger picture. The messages I am getting from the spirits as to why this is happening and what I am supposed to do are helpful. Falling in Love throughout all of this is absolutely wonderful! Falling in Love is absolutely wonderful! The woman I am in Love with is absolutely wonderful! Wow! All the Love that has come pouring in from my friends. All the work I do besides the work I do. Holy crap! Sometimes I wonder where I find all the time!

Thank you all for your support! Many blessings to each and everyone of you who have supported and helped me through all of this. Holy cow! I Love you all so much! Many blessings to all of you! (I'm crying again).

 

Showbiz

HOLY COW! I had NO IDEA how much work it takes to produce something like a four and a half minute video for a poem!

We spent 6 hours on the shoot yesterday. About 2 hours of set up, about 2 and a half hours of shooting me at various angles reading the poem. Here's something funny about that.

I asked if I should memorize the poem, which I wish I had, but was told there'd be quecards. However, there was a little problem with that. My glasses were shining light back into the camera, so I could not wear them. I'm near sighted and even with the big letters (about an inch and a half high), I could not read them at a distance greater than a few feet. We worked around that by having me hold the quecards myself out of camera view.

If I do something like this again, I will request a rehearsal. I read live in a certain style in which to catch peoples attention. I can work with a live audience. Shooting a video is much different. I could not get as loud and intense as I usually do, but had to convey that loud intensity without being loud and intense. Sound confusing? Try having to do that on the spot! I had to take on the spot direction without rehearsal as well. Inserting pauses in certain areas. Reading certain sections differently than I do when I read the poem live.

Although I didn't get cranky myself, I can tell why actors and people in this business can get cranky. I have a new respect for people who work in the film industry.

The people I'm working with are amateurs who produce very professional films. They are doing this on their own time, using borrowed equipment, their own equipment, spaces they find available, etc., all for one of my poems. It is such an honor. An honor I cannot express in words, even being a wordsmith. Janice and Terry believe in my work that much! They are doing this on their own time, and it is literally making me cry knowing they think that much of my work. Holy fuck! I am so honored and humbled.

Mostly, I am just oblivious to all the work that goes on with something like this. I just fill in the space where I'm needed. Holy cow! It is so humbling to know that people believe so strongly in my work.

After the reading was done, we did the shoot with the overlays on my body. The overlays were of various parts of the poem. My daughter, Felicia, who was there and helping out tremendously (as well as getting bored senseless when she had no work to do), was shocked to see little babies covered in smallpox. I don't think she understood until that moment what I mean when I talked of the deliberate spreading of diseases amongst our peoples. I still don't think she understands the depth of the destruction, but that is OK, she is only 11. (Our people suffered through 2 smallpox plagues and several measles plagues). This part of the shoot took about half an hour.

The last hour was spent tearing things down and getting things back to normal and packing out.

My direct involvement in this video has amounted to about 10 hours. I have no idea how many hours Terry and Janice have put into this aside from the shoot, as well as the hours just spent thinking and worrying about this baby. I have no idea how many hours they will put into the editing and creating this video. It's like having 10,000 pieces of a puzzle, but only 100 of them create the picture. I have a new respect for people in this biz, especially amateurs who do this for free. Thank you so much, Terry and Janice, for believing in my work and believing in your work to create something beautiful out of this collaboration. Thank you so much! I am sincerely humbled!

And thank you, Felicia, you wonderful and sweet young woman, for putting up with all this stuff your dad does. Although she is really into white bread culture, she is always fascinated by the work that I do and the events I drag her too. Felicia, you are a wonderful young woman!

Felicia and I celebrated the event with a bike ride after dinner (our first this summer). We then watched about 3/4 of Ace Ventura, which I think she likes watching more when I'm stoned because I laugh much harder at the same old jokes, and then reading stories to each other before falling asleep.

I had no idea how much this kind of work takes out of you. I'm still tired, and I got plenty of sleep. This, however, is an experience I will not soon forget.

Friday, April 14, 2006

 

Depressed

Today I'm a bit depressed, but reading Mikhelle's blog has raised my spirits. Thank you beautiful. That was a wonderful post.

I had good dreams last night, but I think it's just the weight of the shit kind of got to me this morning: the salmon, Chewana, the continued genocide of Indian people, my fucking shithole work place.

Work is the only thing I can immediately do something about. It is a weight on my soul and I don't have a lot of time to look for something else. Everyday I go there I get depressed. The lavendar spray Cynthia gave me keeps me from breaking down, but the place gives me a level of depression that is just tough to work through.

Today I'm supposed to go for a piss test, but check this weird dysfunctional behavior bullshit out. They have not talked to me about it at all. I've decided that it is not MY JOB to make sure these assholes do their job by doing such obscure and odd things like, talking to their employees where there is an issue going on with their work. No one has talked to me about the impending drug test. No one has told me that when I come to work today, someone will drive me down or if I have to walk my ass back across the river to the testing center and walk back to work or what. They just choose NOT TO communicate with me. I will be fired if I don't pass, which in a way would be a great fucking relief, and create a great fucking stress. If I pass, I have no idea. I don't know if they'll continue their punitive punishment of me; keep me in the store and let the other guy continue to drive, will I be like the other guy was and drive only when necessary at my continued pay scale, will I be back on the truck. No one has told me. I guess I'll be left dangling. Tomorrow I will call in sick again since no one wants to take my shift so I can complete my poem video. I also have my daughter. Everyday I go there, I'm depressed. It is beating on my soul. But everday I am away from there, I feel beauty. I still find beauty in all of it. I find beauty in the people that come there and shop or pass by. I find beauty in some of my fellow employees. I find beauty in the walk there and the walk back. I find beauty in the flowers, rain, sunshine, all of it.

Today, I talked with a worm. It was trying to cross the asphalt street in the rain as I waited for the bus. I thought of picking it up, but they wiggle in such pain when I do this no matter how careful I am. I was worried about the little creature. I started talking with it. "Hey, little buddy. Crossing the street is not such a safe thing for you guys. I've seen many of your people killed, ran over by cars or stepped on by humans. It's not a safe idea. I don't know why you guys feel the need to do this when it rains, but I think it would be safer for you to take a right turn and head back for the grass." As I waited for the bus and my bus mate, Violetta, showed and we small talked and waited, I looked down on the wet pave ment to see the worm heading back for the grass.

I'm not so depressed now.

One last thing, my treasure of a publisher, Leas, yesterday gave me a medicine bag he made. It has sweetgrass and tobacco and "a medicine that is sacred to the Coos," as he put it. I haven't had him explain that one to me yet, nor am I sure if that is to remain a mystery. But what a wonderful man to give me such a gift. THANK YOU, LEAS!

So many people have done so much for me in this last couple of weeks since my breakdown. Mikhelle, Starr, Ani, Leas, Cynthia, Leigh Anne, Julie, Carolyn, Carly, David, Jim, Heidi, Karin, and others I'm sure I haven't mentioned. THANK YOU ALL! It's been a rough ride at times, but know I share Love with so many people creates strength within my soul to move through this. Plus, I've fallen in Love, too. She knows who she is, but I'm not too sure if I want to announce it yet. I have to tell you, it is the most beautiful feeling I have ever felt, and she tells me I make her feel the same way. I'm in Love! Depression...FEH! I'M IN LOVE!

 

Radio and the Big Screen

I was feeling sad this morning, but read Mikhelle's blog and read the comment about KBOO, and it filled me with beauty. [opening the gates to more beauty! Thank you Mikhelle]

David Liberty and I had C.C. Whitewolf on "Mitakuye Oyasin" yesterday to promote the "Gathering of Flutes" which won't happen until November, but they are looking for help and donations already. This is a benefit for "Native Peoples Circle of Hope" (www.nativepeoplescoh.org). We also had a Cherokee flute maker. He was very knowledgable and has great skill. They are going to feature Mary Youngblood as their star flute player, and, well, she is the best flute player I have ever heard, I kid you not. I read my "Tonto...Joseph? Joseph...Tonto?" poem on the air, and didn't get to do the no rant control, however. We also delivered the bad news. June 2, 2006, the U.S. government will detonate a 700ton bunker buster nuclear bomb on Western Shoshone land. This is against many laws, but we all know how the U.S. feels about the law. David, who works for Columbia River Inter-Tribal Fish Commission also let us know that the salmon runs on the Columbia have fallen beyond drastically this year. For the last 10 years, salmon runs have been at an average of 29,000-30,000 fish by this time. This year, it is 129 fish have gone past Bonneville. This is a 99.996% reduction. *sigh* *cry* ...FUCK!...

After the show, I hung out with my friend, Leigh Anne. We ate and talked and talked and ate and it was good. We went to see my friend Andy Norris' film that he has been working on for some three plus years called, "Source to Sea: The Columbia River Swim." It was about Christopher Swain who swam the length of the Columbia River in 2002. It took him 13 months with a couple of breaks due to lack of funding and having to make a few bucks. This was not only a considerable strain on himself, but a strain on his family as well, but he wanted to bring attention to the murder of the Chewana by the U.S. Government. He did well, but so far, the 14 genocidal fucking dams are still there. This was really more a film about the death of the Chewana. But seeing all the people, even though they feel hopeless, as it were, gave me strength in my resolve to GET IT ALL THE FUCK BACK! Andy listed me in the credits, which surprised me, because I forgot the help that I had given him and don't really feel that credit is due me for the spectacular piece of work he has created here. A must see for one and all! I was listed as the Czar of Indian Music, I think it was. Andy invited me to a party afterwards, but I have to pass a piss test today. I certainly could have used a good smoke and a good dance. Eh!

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

 

Medicine

I stumble through my morning
after a sweet and wonderful evening.

I feel much healing in my soul
from beauty experienced last night!

I'M IN LOVE!

On the bus trip in
I realize Marijuana Medicine
has helped in my journey
to lead me to you,
to healing.

In a cosmic spiritual agreement,
Pot and I shook hands
nodded at each other
and take our separate journeys
to hook up somewhere in the future
and remember the dancing we did
and maybe dancing together again
in new steps we have learned in our separation
when I see the sunrise on the horizon
just off of Barbur
and it catches my breath
like your beauty
when we wake up together.

Like a crack in the sky
Like Pele in her beauty
the clouds are cracked on the Eastern horizon
just above the rocky Cascades
where my Love burns for you
Warm and beautiful
she calls to me
like her sleepy eyes in the morning.
Our lips caress as we taste
each other's Love in our shared breath.
It is so orange and red
a horizontal eye
gazing her beauty our way
to our sleepy city
as it rubs its eyes
sits up in its bed
ready for another day
after another completed
Revolution!

The lights in the buildings
peer into the city
and at its people
from all over downtown
and otherwise.

We are awakening to a new day
the beginning of another Revolution.

Marijuana is my sister
as we traveled to this journey
that led me to you!
We walked the road
almost every night
for six years
to deal with the pain
that is a part of my soul
like my writing.
She kept peace.
But she knew...
she new...
We desire each other...
She knew...

We guided each other down this road
and you and my friend
know other medicines
and we need to make connection.
She knew...
She knew...

Last night
you told me of the medicines
you are sending me.
Your sacred beauty
in all of your sacred beauty
so sacred...
You are so beautiful...
And our hands have yet to touch.
Our lips have yet to touch
Our souls become intertwined
and the distance between us
will become no distance at all
is becoming no distance at all
is no distance at all...
You are so beautiful!

Spirit tells me I am in transition.
You and I, we have been moving around
are going to be moving around
are going to dance and cook and laugh and Love
hold hands, cross bridges.

And the bridge this morning,
I was crossing her
thinking of beauty
when I got to the barrier
and saw a woman leaning out of the tower
motioning to someone to hurry,
and I didn't know it was me she was motioning to
until I hear the clang of the bell
I wait for the barrier to fall,
when I see her on the green and beige balcony
again motioning to me.

"Should I go fast?" I ask.
"Yes," she says with a smile,
and I run across the bridge
to that narrow gap
with canyons of distance.
Today, I offer from my offering place
four waves of my hat
as I run by.

At the otherside,
I watch the bridge raise,
remembering in times past
during rain
watching rivers flow form her channels
like the rivers in the grooves of glaciers
I think of you
the Love I feel for you,
the Love we feel for each other
a completion...
a full circle...
a completed Revolution.

 

Burn Baby, Burn!

I am at KBOO. How do I know? Because, in our basket for pledge drive premiums, for a mere $700 pledge, you can get a gift worth $700. That's right! You too, can get your own CREMATION! I know what you're thinking: "I've always wondered what it would be like to burn in hell." Wonder no more for you can burn RIGHT HERE ON EARTH for a meager $700 pledge! KBOO gets a much needed $700, you get to burn right here on earth! Complete with pick up and delivery and choice of biodegradable or metal urn. The metal urn with have a western motif. CALL NOW! I'M NOT KIDDING! THIS IS KBOO! 503-232-8818 or long distance on our dime: 1-877-500-5266 (kboo).

Monday, April 10, 2006

 

One more thing!

This, my friends, was sent to me by my Maori sister, Kelly. I offer these words to you, as well, because, well, you are all worthy of the beauty you already are!

I was doing some research on the Net yesterday, during all that rain, thunder and lightning, and found an amazing poem used by Nelson Mandela when he promised his people a new constitutional future. The poetess is Marianne Williamson. If you don't know it, you will know it, because I'm going to share it with you.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear
Is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
we ask ourselves,
"Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?"
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a Child of The Creator.
Your playing small doesn't serve the World.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking
So that other people
Won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as Children do.
We are born to manifest the Glory of The Creator within us.
It's not just in some of us
It's in everone.
And, as we let our own light shine
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we're liberated from our own fear
Our presence automatically liberates others ...............

I pray Dear Brother, that the time of liberation is not too far away. I know our ancestors led me to the site. Arohanui

 

Complaints...

I want to write complaints here, but not like I usually would.

At Felicia's birthday party at her "white bread" mother's, a white man guest talked with my former brother-in-law about how reparations should not be paid to the descendents of slaves because there are no slaves left alive... Yeah.

I could draw you maps. I could give you details. I can hand you information. I can tear down your ideas of beauty and show you the horrific tragedy that brought it there. It is a filth I cannot wash of my body.

Empathy, I'm sure the ones who read that word here know what it means. Am I preaching to the choir? Am I a cheer leader? I request you all do something about changing the world, but you all have already heard my request. We all act on the idea the words offer to us. We take the words and make them our own. The power of poets, the word crafters, is in offering you an idea, a gift, to make your own and create seeds to grow into many beautiful things.

REVOLUTION!

I redefine the word. Do not believe in the rigid structure of your dictionary. Boudaries are just lines on maps.

REVOLUTION!

Revolution, to me, is the desire to create change in a world overwhelmingly oppressive. Revolution is a desire for beauty. Think about it. We all deserve beauty in our lives. That doesn't mean tragedy won't happen. Tragedy is natural and a part of life, the shit that is in the world currently, is not. It is a forced tragedy. It is a raped into us tragedy.

Not killing IS a Revolutionary act. Creating beauty in the world IS a Revolutionary act. I know many people who have participated in violent Revolution are made nervous by my incitement of Revolution. They violently experienced Revolution, and more often than not have that Random House Dictionary definition of Revolution in their hearts and minds. I do not call for violence because I know the violence my fellow human beings who can be compared to demons can enact. It is in my DNA and the DNA of billions of my fellow human beings who have experienced it or are just a generation or two away from experiencing it. The human beings who can be compared to demons have one tool, horrific violence on many levels, subtle to genocidal, in order to control the populace. They are working on stealing our beauty because our beauty doesn't create them wealth. They have sacrificed their beauty for wealth and want to sacrifice all beauty because of their suffering. They don't get mine. My beauty is my own. I Love it. I've made Peace with it. It took me almost 42 years.

 

Work

I talked a lot about my work with Cynthia, and much of the healing work she did with me has helped alleviate the situation.

Mostly, the healing goes around my rape! Currently, because of the intensity of the pain I have currently and historically gone through is coming to head in a trasition.

The rain has stopped and everything outside is wet with life. Have you ever noticed that? Have you ever seen the beauty of the day not just when it's raining, but when it stops? Gentle winds dance with the limbs of trees just outside the window from where I am writing you. Vehicles go by, a man walks by, the beauty of the city; tragic, horrifying, healing...

The leaves are coming out on the trees now. The green lushness of life is coming...The green lushness of life is here!

 

Good Day!

Cynthia came over last night. We worked on our writing project together. It was a beutiful, creative, and healing experience. Our friendship is building into something very true and beautiful.

She did some healing on me. She wiped me physically a few times, psychically a few times. She gave me some herbal remedies for my current pains and to encourage beauty in a more physical sense.

We laughed so much, as always happens when we are together. We discussed each others lives which adds to the creativity of our projects.

We discussed Love. She told me of her current situation, and we had many a good laugh. I told her of my current situation, and she was silent at first, as she can be when her words form into beautiful wisdom. "That's perfect," she told me...WOO-HOO!

I got to bed about 1am. I'm tired, but only because of the slow bus ride in. Beauty to all who read this and those who don't!

Saturday, April 08, 2006

 

Cops

On the way to the BOO, this morning, I was distracted by all the crazy events currently going on in my life, both beautiful and irritating. I was so distracted that it took me a few times to realize the beauty that surrounded me as I journeyed across the bridge. The loon type birds, some 17 in all, flying along the river, heading South. The rain washing my body and soul in beauty. The sound of the rubber souls of my red shoes along the metal grate filled in with concrete.

I had neglected my scarves as the wind so desired to dance with me. I pulled them from underneath my coat and the strap of my bag and let them dance freely, touch my face in their beauty. This beauty, interrupted by the lights of a police car in the distance, pulling a car over. I thought it just a routine stop until I got to the corner of MLK and Burnside.

The cops had a woman handcuffed behind her back, and she was resisting. But she was of slight build and posed no real threat to the cops, one male and one female. I crossed the street and watched the scene as I did so. The cops had the woman in the doorway of the furniture company on the corner. One cop was a woman, one was a man, and I watched as the handcuffed woman was forced onto her back and the woman cop kicked her on the outside of her left arm, hard enough to bruise, but not hard enough to break.

I worried for the arrestee because this is the town where, if you're the right color, you could be murdered by these shitholes for failure to use a turn signal. The woman tried to sit up, for I imagine the pain she must feel not only from the handcuffs on her wrist (which I've heard can be painful), but also because she was laying on them into her back and the pain in her arms which I am positive is there. Male cop put is knee in her chest, and I stood on the opposite corner and watched these enforcers keep the woman in check. The man obviously enjoyed his dominance over this woman. The woman cop had a strange look on her face. It looked like she wasn't there. Her look was empty and pained. I can't explain it.

I observed as another cop came around the corner and stopped behind the other cop car. He got out and opened the back door closest to the sidewalk. Out stepped a white man. Two white men and a white woman enacting dominance and pain over a woman who undoubtedly faced some form of bullshit from a white man who could use the system as a tool to help in his domination over a slightly built woman.

But wait, this isn't the whole story. Beside me, another man was obseving with me before the second cop car arrived with the white man the system was designed to help. I asked this white man what the woman had done to deserve such punishment. He said with a white man smile, "It doesn't matter, she's resisting." So that explains the genocide against us Indians. That explains the rape of women and children in this occupied territory. That explains the brutality the U.S. enacts on women and children here and worldwide. That explains so many things in this world. The U.S. will brutalize you should you resist.

FUCK YOU, AMERICA! I'M RESISTING! I STAND BESIDE THAT ABUSED WOMAN BECAUSE SHE IS A RESISTER AS WELL! FUCK YOU! I WILL RESIST AND DEMAND YOU STOP BEING BRUTAL FUCKING ASSHOLES FOR THE WORTHLESS WEALTHY WHITE FUCKS WE ALL DOWN HERE AT THE BOTTOM KNOW YOU ARE SERVING AND PROTECTING, BECAUSE YOU AINT PROTECTING US! OHTERWISE YOU'D BE ARRESTING THOSE CATHOLIC PRIEST BABY RAPERS INSTEAD OF PROTECTING AND SERVING THEM LIKE WE ALL KNOW YOU DO!

 

Some More...

I think I manifested some shit in my life, here. But where there is shit, there is fertilizer. Where there is fertilizer, you place some seeds or bulbs of beautiful flowers, or food plants, or medicinal plants, or all of the above and grow some beautiful and useful life forms out of a great big pile of shit.

My boss didn't get my schedule right, and scheduled me to work this Saturday, today. I knew I'd have to call in sick, but I really don't give a shit at the moment, and more about that in a few. I thought I'd call in and say I was having breakdowns. Well, wouldn't you know it, I actually have been having some breakdowns. But that is not a bad thing, not just because it means I was telling the truth when I talked with the biggest asshole that works at the company who told me, as I was crying, that I'd have to talk about this with my boss. I don't really care. It doesn't bother me. As I sit here and write this, I imagine myself telling asshole the truth. "Barb, I Love you. There are many beautiful things about you. The way you smile and laugh especially in talking about your grandson, whom you obviously Love very much. But you are also an asshole and make life miserable at this workplace and have done curel things such as doctor the books in order to get other people I Love in trouble. For that, you are deserving of the title...'asshole.' Many blessings and good health to you sister, and I pray that you can deal with that asshole part of yourself because you cause way too much stress on people because you believe it is a sign of your authority and power."

I also imagine extorting my boss in going to the head of the company and exposing all the shit that I've seen going on and I could probably make things pretty ugly there. All I need and ask is the time to find the things that I need to get out of there, because, you see, my workplace has now become the archetype of my rapist. When I was a child, I was raped by bigger people because they could easily force their control upon my body. I had my arms almost jerked out of their sockets and my ass beat because these were bigger people and they could get away with that crime because there was no one there to protect me. There are many other examples.

Now, a shortish white man that wears suits that look too big on his narrow frame has the authroity over my economy like the rapists had authroity over my body. He can force me to do whatever he so chooses for me to do. Pure and simple. He says this is within the law. Marijuana is not against the law, it is against a regulation. That regulation is enforced by punitive and often brutal acts by the police, judges, prison guards, other prisoners, etc. Laws are things like, "...treaties are the supreme law of the land" (article 6, section 2, U.S. constitution). Treaties are contracts between nations. Contracts are like the agreements you sign when you buy a car. You are legally bound to make payments in order to possess said property. You don't make payments, or break the contract, as it were, the conditions of the agreement return to what they were prior to the signing of the agreement. The treaties (contracts) signed between my peoples and the U.S. government have all been violated, which has even been admitted by the U.S. government. That means, literally, according to the law, that this land belongs to me and my people.

I could, of course, go on and on about the law, but it would not change the conditions of which I have guided my life currently and WITH REASON! I am just showing you here that this has nothing to do with the law and everything to do with domination, of which rape is not only an act of violence, but of domination. Showing one who is boss of who and if you don't willingly submit, you will be forced to submit, and that is within the pervue of the dominator culture within which we all life. That is one of the biggest reasons why I will tell you that what we need is a Revolution, and that Revolution has to start within the mind, heart, and soul of all human beings. I'm looking for that "hundreth monkey" here.

I keep my eye on this prize. That is what gets me through this current round of breakdowns. That is why I've guided myself down this path, though for the most part unconsciously. I need to clean this serious shit out of my soul, turn it to fertilizer, and create many beautiful things out of it. I already have in many ways, but there are some big kinks that have created some serious blockages. For you see...

This path has also led me to Love.

All of my current dam bursting comes from that abuse I experienced as a child. I have done ceremonies. Last night, I imagined going back, telling my cousin to "KNOCK IT OFF!" and embracing him and letting him know I Love him. I told him I understood where his pain came from. It came from a sexually abusive uncle, I'm sure. Uncle got it from boarding school. Boarding school IS an act of genocide. And we commit, as Inga Muscio said in her book "Autobiography of a Blue Eyed Devil," auto-genocide. We perpetuate the genocidal maniacs desire of destruction of all of our people ("EXTERMINATE THEM! EXTERMINATE THEM!" was chanted by the great white masses at the inquiry into Chivington's genocidal actions at Sand Creek against the Cheynne Nation.) I understand this. I choose not to perpetuate that action. I choose to look at the root of this monster, and I am going to get everything back!

My chest hurts. My body aches. My eyes feel swollen and red from all of the tears, which also happen to be tears of joy, because I am falling in Love just the way I am supposed to, and she said she Loves me, too. And we are taking our time in the beautiful distance that currently keeps us apart because we have things we need to heal from and we get to start our relationship in a sweet beauty that is functional and expanding moment by moment before we even meet.

I know I must move on from my workplace. I am praying hard and in many beautiful ways and ceremonies to bring about that change in a good manner that brings success and abundance. I know the spirits are out there. I know my angry energy is real. I pray to that filthy feeling from my work. I pray to that beautiful feeling from my next place of beauty and abundance. This has not been an easy path. But it is a good path! It is a path of beauty and Love! It is a path of good health!

One of our rights is silence. There is a place for silence, to listen, to find the guidance in the darkness from within, from the light and beauty that surrounds us, from the uncomfortable situations in which we guide our lives...and right there...right there...in the middle of it all...in the middle of all the pain and beauty...is...

REVOLUTION!

Friday, April 07, 2006

 

She's Gone!

Yesterday after arriving at home, I went upstairs to put my stuff away. I was the only one there so I opened the door to the room directly across from mine and it was empty of all the things except what belongs to Heidi...and it was beautiful!

 

Once You Get Past the Panic of Drowning...It's Pretty Easy to Breathe Underwater

I have dove into the depths of Derrick Jensen's, "A Language Older Than Words." He and his younger sister were repeatedly raped by his father. His three older siblings were repeatedly beaten by the fucking bastard piece of shit. His mother was repeatedly beaten and raped by the fucking piece of shit. And, like in the previous posts somewhere, I'm sure I mentioned the idea of silence. The quieter you are, the more you act like things are normal, the better your chances of survival and not receiving punishments for such crimes as...being born, breathing, etc.

Yesterday morning was fucking tough. The thought of going to work was absolutely unacceptable. The ache and soul pain was the worst I've felt, more so than the three 3-hour long breakdowns as I hid in my bed when I lived with my sister a little over a year ago. Five big breakdowns that weekend along with numerous small ones, and this, this single breakdown with tons of crying off and on throughout the following days hurt much worse than that weekend.

My ex used to use my sex abuse as a weapon against me. Though, I'm sure she lives in denial about it, as I've heard from friends, the pain she delivered to me on a daily basis was too much to bear. EVERY FUCKING DAY, she brought it up. Some move, some action I made, could be easily made into a road map that led to my rape as a child. Every FUCKING day, I was dragged down roads covered in glass, my naked soul taken each time to my rape. Forced to look at it like, watch it over and over again, see my body raped over and over again, every fucking day.

Two days after I left that asshole, I came to a realization..."I don't have to talk about it anymore!" I was so fucking elated! I was so fucking happy as my body and soul dealt with the horrible damage caused to me by her.

But I'd find my way to triggers, and that 5 breakdown weekend was triggered by a movie called "Century Plaza," an excellent documentary about a Single Room Occupancy (SRO) that used to exist here in Portland. One had sympathy for all the characters. One empathized and cared for them. Then, one of them started talking about how he just got out of prison. He was in prison because he had been raping two 10-year-old boys. As he told this story my breathing changed and shallowed and panted, my body tensed in the agony of memories I didn't want to have anymore, my fingers knotted in expression of my own personal insanity.

So, if you can bare with me, let me tell you the story of my rape. That act of violence I experienced as a child at the age of five. I was the first son of a son in my Indian family. This meant, for reasons I don't understand, that I was to be the hereditary chief of the Lower Umpqua. I was spoiled greatly by my grandfather, a man I dearly Loved. He died in April of '69, and that summer, my cousin, his mom, his sisters, my grandma all came up for a visit. All the adults, except my mother who was left behind to babysit all the kids, went out to get drunk. My cousin, 12 at the time, took me upstairs and we played with each other. It felt good and I never did anything like that. He requested I lay on the floor and he would show me another good feeling thing. I did, and he was then inside my ass. I realized that this was an act of cruelty. I was in an indefensible position, and this person I Loved and trusted most in the world was hurting me most terribly. An unspeakable pain. A pain in my soul as well as my trust was completely betrayed. After he was done, he went back outside to play, and I went into the bathroom to wash away the filth and went quite insane in the bathtub. Upon recovery, I went downstairs and saw my mother ironing clothes and visibly angry. I could no longer trust. She was absolutely untrustworthy. I went into the basement and hid, where I was again found by my cousin and his meaner sister, also my cousin, of course. She held me from behind as we sat. She would tickle my belly and around my genitals and my genitals as her brother raped my mouth. Yeah...well...

I would much prefer not to remember. But not remembering, not speaking of unspeakable acts, led me to dysfunctional paths, such as two horrible marriages. The first wife insulted me all the time as a form of control. She told me how bad I looked, how bad I smelled, called me ugly on occasion, would describe my body like it was the most hideous thing she had ever seen, pointed out everything I did wrong (which was pretty much everything I did). Left her for wife number two and was almost immediately thrown into the face of such verbal violence as to emotionally collapse before her and in this sign of weakness, the attacks would become more fierce. Any sign of weakness was exploited and the attack was on. She would scream in my face for shutting the seat belt in the car door. She would scream in my face for any wrong action real or imagined. One time, while hanging "solstice lights," I accidentally called them "Christmas Lights," and the attack was on and I was reminded of my slight for months, as well as verbally attacked for other reasons. My sense of self-worth, self-Love, self-beauty, sense of self, was all but destroyed. I kept enough to leave.

Both of these women I have diplomatic relations with. I deal with my first wife because of our daughter. We Love her and we work together to guide her to become a good global citizen. I deal with my second wife because we volunteer at this great and glorious radio station.

This, and so much more, all goes along with the story of my current breakdown and suffering of soul pain and heavy ache that was there like a boil to be lanced. Easy to pretend it's not there, but it is there.

So yesterday, the ache made the idea of work unbearable. I cried heavily until about 10 when I was distracted by the lives of others. I found myself in positions where prayers were all I had to offer and they had to be made. I found myself helping out at the station, filling in gaps where I could be useful. Worrying and praying for others. Helping. Distracted from my own current agony to help others. Enough time to let my soul start to heal enough to become a fucntioning dysfunctional.

I gave myself a couple of hours to wander over to my therapy session, and...

(Wait! speaking of distractions! I was just talking with Chris, a wonderful woman volunteer here, and she was telling me about her horse rescue. She is currently on crutches, a broken him from being thrown. She has two guest Belgians. These guys are smart. They can gently take apart their stall and have the run of the property. The stories are so hilarious and the horses are so smart.)

On my wanderings to the therapy session, I got a call from my friend, Cynthia. We discussed our writing project, and she said she would burn some cedar for me. Every step I took seemed like a step toward healing rather than the overwhelming feelings of soul agony. It was like the flood of pain after the dam had burst was done washing over my soul, and I'm still here standing and wanting it all back!

I found myself in front of this house with pretty flowers. I dropped to the sidewalk and inhaled the scent of daphne, one of my favorite scents, and continued my journey, when I noticed I was on the right cross street. I though I had at least three more blocks. I pulled out the address on a piece of paper in my pocket, looked at the address on the house I had just smelled the daphne in front of, and hey! there it is. Good sign!

I poured out my heart in the therapy session. I cried, I laughed, I agonized, I sought out the paths of healing. As the last few minutes came, I talked faster and added in as much as I could. I felt like I unloaded more of my burden.

And here I am. I still ache some, but am functional. I know that somewhere in the next few days this agony will leave my body. I pray that I will learn my lessons from this. It is what it is, and I will continue walking in a good way, and I will find you...and tickle your knees.

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