What’s Under a Fight to Do Right?

Sometimes I’m asked why do I bother to work for Indigenous causes, or any cause really, when it seems the odds against achievement are so damned overwhelming or insurmountable? Someone asked, “Why are you bothering to waste precious time”? It’s a question I’m not sure I can fully answer because how do you describe a longing intensely emanating from your very core? How do you describe desire that overwhelms your own overawed senses and fatigue to work to make something right?

Why do we push on even when it feels like we’re only speaking into a complete void of apathy & disinterest or even in the face of real, ruthless retaliation? I suppose sometimes it does seem futile and somewhat Don Quixote-ish. I know it certainly feels like that from time to time. Maybe it’s simpler than we can know. In some way in our lives, something was triggered by an act of inequity, a brutality, and/or a fear.

I’m not sure when the force was set in me to eventually become an agent for action; the difference for good that was ever-growing in my heart. In some ways I demonstrated it as a child, like sticking up for my siblings. Maybe it took a culmination of events to instill a sense that attaining justice was about more than writing letters to the Editor. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; it’s just that real change usually requires that step and a dozen more to make a dent in an issue.

What kind of events does it take to wake a burgeoning fire for equity? My experiences started early within family abuses based in the consequences of inter-generational traumas inflicted by colonialism. They were enforced in incidents like the group of men who – for a laugh – sicced a dog on 7 yr. old me to, “get that little redskin” and who enjoyed the moment their dog gripped onto my ankle; or the neighbor screaming, “get out of here, you dirty little Indian” as she chased me down the street when I was 10; or being cheated out of the fruits of my labor as an adult &/or having false accusations leveled at me.

I suffered through much of that pain on my own, until I could learn how and where to turn for help. I didn’t get help all the time, but when I did, it was searingly potent & it was that, I believe, that triggered the move from thinking I could be a difference to working on it.

How could I possibly stay silent in the face of inequities to which I can speak, when the people who I hold in the highest esteem today, are those who stood with me and for me, when I couldn’t? How could I possibly dishonor their teachings, their strengths of conviction, & their compassion? How could I possibly ignore the work they took on to show me how important it is to take a stand for what’s right, so I could stand for myself? How could I keep all that conviction I learned and earned for only myself?

These lessons didn’t come easily, there was a lot of hard work with many, many doubts, and certainly, I don’t win at everything. But my heroes showed me what strength of character is and in its most defining word, their power. They helped bring me to my own esteem and value. Although I’m not professionally trained in many aspects of what I do, my passion & willingness to learn is the biggest driver of change – for the good, preferably. So it is for all of us.

One of my efforts entails seeking real sovereign recognition and benefits for Indigenous communities. For that to happen, Canada has to step back and re-create its foundation in the honor it already earnestly claims. Technically, legally, there is no Canada without this relationship. The time is now for Canadians to put their money where their heart is and state with us, as the truest powers that be, that the partnership with Indigenous peoples precedes the enrichment of only some people and/or corporate interests. The inherent rights of the Indigenous greatly bolster the effort to serve the whole.

One crucial aspect my heroes provided was taking the mystery out of those intimidating forces called – “the Government”, or “the Principal”, or “corporate executives”. They’re no one other than our own neighbors who may have had a few more lucky breaks. Outside of those suffering from psycho/sociopathy, they have the same issues, fears, needs and flaws as the rest of us. And just like the rest of us, they sometimes need to be shown when their work could be better or is just plain destructive.

There’s only one group of people capable of that. That would be me – and you. Anything we can lend to this cause or any other to do life better is valuable, & I guarantee, so is everything we get back for that. It all begins and ends within ourselves; where there is decency, lies the fire.

RL

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Posted in Indigenous, Indigenous Peoples, Inspiration, Life, Native Americans, Opinion, Uncategorized | Tagged , | 9 Comments

Indigenous Prayers – Poetic Haikus In Motion

Youth dancer – Jingle  Dress dancer, Nekwakwas,  Squamish Nation PowWow, July 2018

Softly she enters
The prayers of her music
Ancestral healing

RL

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Youth dancer – Fancy Dancer,  Skweltapis Megmagalus Ned      Squamish Nation PowWow, July 2018

A bold soul dances
Rejuvenating spirits
The grandfathers smile

RL

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Traditional Dancer, Denise Ann John, & fave Nova Scotia sis, August 2018

Ethereal calm
Calling to the grandmothers
Replenishing gifts

RL

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bert dancing 2

Traditional Dancer, Bert One-Breath Milberg, & fave big bro, Nova Scotia, August 2018

A Warrior’s heart
Gifted reverent power
A shelter of strengths

RL

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For non-Indigenous friends, a little info note about powwows…  A powwow is a social event where we sing and dance in honour of our ancestors; to pray to, for & with them and Creator, and to enjoy the good humour, kindnesses and company of our relations.  The day’s highlight are the competitive dances that enthrall with their colours, intricate detailed regalia, and the sheer physical power put into the dancing. Then there are various food vendors that’ll test your capacity to eat heartily.

All are invited to share in these events to not only enjoy the day’s events, but also to support Indigenous artisans and craft makers, who provide beautiful, genuine Indigenous work in all sort of art genres for sale.

You won’t have to wonder about the protocols, i.e. how one may participate in the dancing or when you may take photos, or when to stand for a prayer, etc. All powwows have an MC that announces or directs these points as they arise.  A quick tip: the standard invitation for anyone to join the dancing begins with the call: “Inter-tribal dance”.

Hiy hiy and congratulations to all for a really wonderful 2018 Powwow season.

RL

Posted in Dance, Haiku, Indigenous Peoples, Life, Photos, Poetry, three line poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , | 5 Comments

Friday Funnies; ‘Cause I’m Smokin’ Hot

Yeah, so BC is on fire. Again. 10 years of this oppressive heat & ash-filled lungs trend and of course, Canada decides it’s a perfect excuse to build a highly toxic, combustible pipeline through the path of the most fire vulnerable areas possible. No joke. The federal government has actually stated and paid to advertise that, ‘by throwing more carbon into the air, we will reduce our carbon footprint’. Can we possibly be more cutting-edge? 🙄

But I digress. Where was I? Right, so from trying to breathe through the latest ‘new normal’, in what is predicted to be a continuing trend of awful new normals for our summer air quality, to blinking non-stop at the political machinations over the entire of North America, a little escapism is more than in order. Yeah?

I make no apologies for my reliance on the sacred, the medicinal, the gucci-est high five to your face memes. Let us proceed. It’s always good to introduce yourself, so let me start with that…

Meet, Canuck.  Vancouver’s City Ambassador. He beat out Michael J. Fox. Not kidding. Like attracts like; we occasionally double date.

Who doesn’t enjoy a good drive-thru?

It’s true, what they say about sand, it DOES get everywhere

Not, hilarious funny, it’s good, but I just love a good appliance sale

If only I had a dime for all the times…😏

Musical Interlude
A couple for the oldies… (Click on the pic, if you’re a serious newb)

Who’s singing now?

Moving along…

Truth in advertising

See? BC fires. I’m tellin’ ya.

I like to conclude by tying a demo to my opening salvos. I think this sums it all up nicely.

Have a terrific final August, 2018 weekend. Stay hydrated.

RL

Posted in Humor, Laughs, Lighter Side, Memes, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

Headline to Headline; Let’s Play

Big day in Canadian news today and this makes it a good day to play, which headline is real?

“City of Victoria To Remove Statue of Depraved, Racist Drunk and Canada’s 1st Prime Minister”

or

“Sports Officials Unable to Find Non-Indigenous Team Names, Despite Entire Universe”

If you said neither, you’d be wrong. Well, almost wrong. Headline one is all truth, but only part of it was actually published. You can probably guess they didn’t print the “Racist” part or the “depraved” and “drunk” parts either. However, Victoria, BC did elect to take down the statue of John A. MacDonald, with the city’s Mayor explaining, ‘Indigenous people do not need to walk past this painful reminder of colonial violence each time they enter the doors of their municipal government.’  See the story details behind this move at “RECONCILIATION AND REMOVAL OF JOHN A. MACDONALD STATUE FROM STEPS OF CITY HALL“.

Of course, reaction to this event is fairly predictable. Outrage about ‘erasing history’ and insult to Canadian history, which might have deserved a hint of sympathy if actual history hadn’t of course, already been erased and ignored. Particularly the parts about the brutal terrorism and murder committed by MacDonald in the name of cleansing the “Indian problem” from the landscapes of their home in favour of European settlers looking to escape the tyranny of their own homeland.

The United Nations have a name for these acts that many Canadians are unable to accept for the black mark that it is, because it firmly rests upon their ancestors. It’s genocide, and just that one word alone is enough to cause shudders of distaste from the capital city that’s removing the statue, to the cliff edges of Newfoundland. If pushed, these people will make some allowance instead, for the term: Cultural Genocide.

In the end, as far as the descendants of ongoing traumas are concerned, the Indigenous Peoples, semantics do little for the scars of the policies then or the ones still being created in the name of “Reconciliation” today. That there are some Canadians who recognize their own real history and want to begin anew in how to present it and make amends, I raise my glass and hands to them.

No one, in the name of decency, wants to venerate genocidal sociopaths. The real history is that it took that kind of person to build Canada’s foundation. If Canada wants to change its historical record to the decency it claims world over, recognizing this is a start. Desires to instead teach Canada’s history from a realistic place in a real effort to uplift the marginalized and defeat repeating history, are the real heroics of this story.

The second headline is from one of my favorite Indigenous satire news magazines ever, Walking Eagle News! OK, it may be the only Indigenous satire news ever, but it’s brilliant. Read Tim Fontaine’s take here, on our ongoing efforts to inform North America that it’s long past the due date to retire the remaining team names, logos, & mascots depicting caricatures and stereotypes of the Indigenous/Native Americans.

This work began in the 1950s, but it has only been since the advent of social media that we’ve been able to make a dent in the social consciences of both Canada and the U.S. I encourage you to read more in detail at the Change The Mascot organizationThe American Psychology Association has published several reports on how these images perpetuate harm to both Indigenous people and the communities that surround them.

To anyone who recognized both headlines are the truth, you win. Spread the word.

RL

 

Posted in Canada, Humanity, Indigenous Peoples, Life, Racism, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Kill Me Now Karma – Formally Known as Do Not Write a Reference Letter This Way, Reprised

I made a terrible mistake in a reference letter once. Granted I was very young and new to the processes of supervision and management. My only training had been being thrown directly into the fire.  Actually, I think they used me as kindling.

As it happens, I was eventually asked to write letters of reference.  Unfortunately, one of those early requests was for someone that I would’ve preferred not to do, but I felt a little obligated and truthfully, I also had semi-dark reasoning.   I was hopeful that it might help us get rid of her faster.

typewriter and paper for 46She regaled us daily with constant complaints. Unfortunately, her desire to provide suggestions for improvement didn’t match her primary efforts.  She also questioned whether every request was really necessary and then she moved at the speed of cold honey to complete them.

Various versions of our days of whine and quease ran through my mind as I struggled with what to say in the letter.  In the end I managed to write that she was a good employee who reliably came to work and could be recommended to competently complete processing general work in repetitive format.

And then she was gone. Yay!

A couple of years later, it was time for me to move on too.  I was thrilled with my new position in a really dynamic up and coming company. It was about a year into this job when guess who applied for a position at the same place?  When some asked me about her because of our mutual previous employer, I said I only knew of her and that I couldn’t really say much else.

I was underwhelmed at the thought of her presence in the building, but I was really unprepared for the news that she would be coming to work in my department, once again under my supervision.  Was I an ax murderer in a previous life, Karma?

I was ready to throw back scotch shots, multiple scotch shots, and I can’t even look at that stuff without thinking esophageal transplant. I still don’t understand how scotch isn’t really automotive fuel additive.  I wholly entertained “kill me now, Karma” thoughts.

To make a long story short, and to shorten the building horror of my damaging memories, I’ll just move onto the day my scotch bottle needs blew up.  My frustrations uncorked with an unbridled request for her to complete her duties.  As in, “Why can’t you just shut the hell up and do your damned job”?

I didn’t realize how loudly I‘d made my request until I saw the company VP strolling down from the other end of the building to ask if I was OK.  Then he asked me to come and speak with him in his office. Yep, thats a walk of shame right there, especially when it’s with somebody you deeply respect.

We engaged in the discussion of what happened and why and how I couldn’t understand how we could move ahead in any meaningful way with such an obvious lack of fit, as she clearly was.

He turned to a bank of files and pulled out a folder.  In measure of fair play, or maybe just a little bit of play, he asked me if I was sure she wasn’t competent enough to work for the company.  I answered with certainty; no, she is not.  Then he handed me a copy of a reference letter she’d provided. Yup. Why couldn’t he have just handed me a few shots of automotive fuel additive instead?

I could only, again, will for death as he explained that, of course part of the reason she’d been hired was because of my own words speaking for her.  I had no reply.  I sat there in bitter disappointment at how death was unwilling to respond. I instead willed for that block of the city to be struck hard by a sudden and deeply distracting earthquake.  No luck there either.  I ended up mumbling some claptrap about trying to do better and slithered out the door.

As it turned out, my department was soon going to be relieved revised anyway and she was being moved to another department.  Fortunately, that little ‘situation’ worked out for the both of us, but it left me with a lot to contemplate, and to learn, especially when it came to  reference letters.

I learned how to say “sorry, no can do” when I had to, and more importantly, I got a much firmer grip on the seriously wise adage of  ‘say what you mean and mean what you say’. There was just no way I could take another possibility of having to turn to scotch.

RL

Posted in Blunders, Business, Humor, Life, Lighter Side, Storytelling | Tagged , , , , | 29 Comments

Friday Funnies On Monday: ‘Cause I Can

I went a little rogue on the Friday funny business because I was completely occupied with birthday frivolity that started on Thursday and coasted me right into this morning. It was a blast, no ragrets, ready to start the newest week in my newest year with a ha ha.

Anyway, getting down to work here… you know what they say: funny business is serious business and if you’re not laughing, you’re serious. A’right, a’right, no one is saying that, just a little diversion to move us along into the Monday Medicinal Memes … Which is better than the cactus needles my son said he wanted to stick into his nose after reading this. Moving on…

Rode the train this morning with the Invisible Man

Uh oh, someone’s in hot water now

We’ve all been there, right?

Do thy eyes deceive thee?

Sleight of hand pro level

They say it’s usually a recessive gene, skips a generation kind of thing

Awesome relationship vetting process

This is just a true story

Come to the farm, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

The regularly scheduled PSA

I believe I have perfected this method

This is how I end my fab, fab, oh so fab birthday weekend.

Do whatever you have to for an awesome week…

RL

Posted in Humor, Lighter Side, Uncategorized | Tagged | 7 Comments

A Musing Tale For Two, Three & Seven | Short Story

As the smoke swirled, Seven pushed at her temple to dull the pain and reel in relief at the realization that she’d not only survived, she’d pulverized him. Them. She’d denied them her extinquishment by the Demon disguised as Sisyphus in noble despair and his allies. Seven had once been an ally too, one of many that learned too late, that his pleas for protection are from his own orchestrations.

One after another, they’d placed their feet over the steps of the previous muse, believing they’d obliterated his disconsolate past. They were his healers, celestially heralded of course, and each proclaimed as the most extraordinary. Each an intricate weaving of beauty & grace until every strand of that understanding was pulled, crushed and tossed. The quintessential death by a 1000 cuts; slash by tiny slash, they were to be broken down and bled …for his pleasure.

Only one remained, number Three. It still believed in the script; It was the most inclined because It was trained to be. It was raised with the sensibility of a good and loyal and refined Republican, where desire for approval is ingrained and longing to be seen burns deep. Keeping them hungry is the most effective Republican control and Three was the hungriest. Three yearned for the rewards of applying oneself – praise, praise, and praise be to those who praise. It took only a moment to affect humility when fed a fresh, crispy glory morsel.

Three was most like him – claiming to be a gentle soul fighting evil, especially for women, even while triumphantly clinking wineglasses with him, partner in joy & melancholy, this limited modern Aristotle/Martin Luther combo. They’d bonded over their number one tenet: Don’t tell me what I can’t do. These sort are also rarely accustomed to admitting error. Oh, how the Demon appreciated how easy Three made Itself for molding.

Seven saw Three now alone on the field – she watched for a while as It scrambled for attention, begging for more and more approval and admiration. She smirked at all of Its contortionist squirming to meet real daring, to be regarded as genuine badassery while still being the picture of educated refinement. Seven watched as It continued to vie for the top of a heap that never really existed.

Seven was reminded of it all, while comforted within the safety of Michael’s sword and wings. She knew the inevitable ending and although Three’s arrogance made the thought of Its own unwinding amusing, she knew even a conceited Three was also a victim. Still, she also knew even if Three was warned with a literal Demon mind-reading presentation, Three wouldn’t budge from Its self-coveted title of latest ‘number one compassionate soul’.

Three would never admit that It never actually saw a real tear from the Demon, nor that his every manipulation always pulled Three back from any logic, always replaced with emotional diversion. No, It’s too smart to fall for that, after all he’d acknowledged Its many karats of perfection over and over. He’d heroically shored up Its inner warrior: “Join the rebellion, show some skin, say the word fuck out loud in public more”. Ooo, such a trouper, that Three be.

Three would learn that Its own ‘growth’ was only about being exposed for what It really was all along. Every word, every photo, every plea for following… It’s a tricky world alright, but especially for a muse willfully blinding Itself for the win.  All the Numbers reveled in the knowledge that smugness too, is a temporary state.

The nightmare of shallow Demons & their Fems is temporary hellfire for most. Despite the humiliation, the Demon constantly reaches for her, but Seven, like the others was already in a place untouchable by his lowliness.

As Michael ascended, Seven became aware of the Demon’s lock of hair still caught in her fingers. She unwound it and held it over one of the fires. She smiled as the flames lifted and seized it, and the battle pains eased as the field of charred red and its last inhabitants faded from sight.

RL

Posted in Life, Storytelling, Writing Challenges | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

Let’s Call it, “Phoetry”

Blossoming Love

Showering her gifts
To all who pay her homage
Sweet, pink abundance

#cherryblossom #windshield

Warrior

She was still and sang
Calmly embracing her peace
As the hawks circled

#mourningdove

Hiding in Plain SightLuminous greetings
As Luna peeks through sunlight
Furtively winking

Deal Me In Unexpected chance
Risk takers found floating bets
Gambled on water

#riverboat #tres’ #Nashville

Haiku ToiletriesSelfie June 2018Bathroom selfie dare
First (and last) effort complete
Note: need longer arms

#flash #fun

RL

 

 

Posted in Haiku, Life, micropoetry, photo, Photos, Poetry, three line poetry | Tagged , , , , | 13 Comments

Um Adriana, I Don’t Like You Like That

So, I got another email from Adriana today. At first I was annoyed at her constant recurrent messages. However, now as the months have gone by, I’m starting to worry about her.  She really doesn’t seem to be able to move forward in life.

typistShe said she’d chatted with me quite a bit on Facebook before I deleted her.  I can honestly say, I don’t recall any of that. Nothing, nada, zip. But then again, a little further in the letter she admitted that maybe she chatted with me only a couple of times.  I wonder if this was when I was attached to those serious morphine drips.

She keeps saying she is newly single and moving near me soon.  Seems she’s not able to move quickly, ‘cause she’s still where she was when she started writing me seven or eight months ago. She might also have to start making better choices in the love department since her relationship cycle has gone down to one or two week increments at most. Always sounds so lonely; poor thing. Maybe I can help her out with that.

Actually, I’d better help her out with that.  Apparently somewhere in those early chats, she got the idea I could be some kind of friend with benefits. She said I told her how cute she is. (Gonna have to go ahead and blame the morphine). Then she continually asks if I’m married and drops lots of hints about what we could do together.  She “loves the outdoors and to socialize, go out for drinks, restaurants, movies etc”.  She also calls me “Babe”. I think the sooner I can get her set up with someone, the less likely I am to hurt her feelings when I have to point out that I don’t really like her ‘like that’.

She said she’s currently employed with some kind of website where she actually gets paid to yap, etc.  Sounds like a pretty good gig to me; I can chat anyone’s ear off! I wonder what the pay is like?

On the other hand, she said she needs to find work when she does finally get here.  I hope that’s not a hint to help her find a job.  I’m not sure what I could endorse her for – maybe something with repetitive tasks.

I wonder why she couldn’t just set up the same chat thing here.  It would save a lot of effort to get settled, and it would also help a lot in romantic appeal territory.  I’m sure her having a job would be a lot easier for me to promote than the level of her libido – something else she likes to point out regularly. Some people are just that comfortable with themselves, I guess.

Anyway, as a soon to be neighbor, I will do my best to welcome her to the community. Hopefully I’ll only have to show her around a little.  Hopefully her resume is up to date.  Hopefully she doesn’t add that libido part into the conversation when I introduce her to anyone.

I’m not sure what I offered in those alleged conversations, but a little help is the least I could do after her repeated generous offers of some kind of VIP pass code to her chat site, which by the way, includes full access to her webcam. Normally people have to pay some big monthly fees for this, but because I’m a ‘special’ friend, her boss “Natalie”, says I can have it for free.

I suppose I should log onto it soon to at least let her know I got the gift and say thanks.  Then I can see if we can nail down the dates of her imminent arrival and finally get her onto her new path.

Oh look, there’s another email from Adriana; I guess I can catch up with her now.

RL

Posted in Humor, Junk Mail, Lighter Side, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

When Robyns Soar

“Mom – mom come here now – a crow just grabbed a robin in the air!” I ran to the front window to join my son, who was staring wide-eyed at what was taking place in our front yard. There was indeed a crow with a robin in its claws, but they were now on the grass. The robin was struggling under the crow as it tightened its grip and then began to peck at the smaller bird with brute force.  Within minutes, a carpet of grey and red feathers covered my lawn.

I watched the crow continue to peck at it until all movement briefly stopped. Then the crow picked up its victim to carry it to the middle of our street – presumably because the harder paved surface made it easier to dig into flesh. That’s only a guess, as is why my response, even while horrified, was to grab my camera. I kept clicking and recording every motion of the bird’s devouring power. It didn’t take long to reduce the robin to a few small ribbons of red flesh, which it then picked up again and flew off with.

I stayed at that window quite a while after, until that early spring day started to darken. I know I was dumbfounded at what I’d witnessed and by the sheer amount of feathers laying from one end of my yard to the other. How could so many feathers come from one tiny little bird? It wasn’t the first time I’d encountered the ‘cold, hard facts of nature’, but there was an additional layer to the feelings this time. As the event faded, I was filled with a sense of dark foreboding.

Hindsight, of course can play into the narrative of any thoughts, but what was to follow within my own world not very long after, made it seem like that feeling wasn’t really all that out of line after all.

In a matter of months and over the next 3 years, I endured the loss of someone I adored beyond measure, part of the centre of my world, next to my son; followed by a devastating and punishing betrayal by someone I’d loved and leaned on while coping; and serious health crises over 2 years that would ultimately break me down to my own demise, albeit only momentarily. Beware the truthful tales of bad news descending in threes.

I know those events are whole stories of their own, but I wrote about them through the journey. I don’t much feel the need to recount the details now. In some ways, they almost seem like a lifetime ago. They were centre stage, but part of the play was the way those birds continued to star in revealing what was to come.

The next spring, my son and I went for a walk along a river. As we were talking, we were suddenly interrupted by a flash of black that passed right in front of us. It was a crow speeding toward the tree line to our left and it was being quickly pursued by a very vociferous little robin. My son and I looked at each other and we both reacted to that unexpected turn in events with a deep inner, ‘Whoa’.

That wasn’t the end though. As we went further, we next saw that little robin chasing after another bird, but this time it was 2 hawks! I know I was very relieved I wasn’t the only one seeing this. Who would believe me? Dare I even tell you that the last time we saw that little fierce fireball, she was chasing after an eagle? Well, she did. I don’t know if it was a she; it just felt right to assume that.

Of course, I pondered and wondered about the amazing activity of that day for some time. I also took solace in it. It seemed to confirm for me, that even though I was in the midst of major recovery on several levels, I would be fine and perhaps in some ways, even far mightier.

The experiences of those years had completely broken me and I needed to hold onto something bigger than me to keep moving forward. It wasn’t long after that, the resources I needed to begin the healing on all levels fell into place and I was on my way to becoming this newest version of me.

This brings us to this year… The edges of all that pain have been buffered and eased. I’m still regaining my physical strength, but I’ve made great strides in that. The rawness of my world has been tempered with understanding through grief therapy, and my re-connection to the teachings of my culture has pulled me through what I think (hope) is the last of the intergenerational wounds that left me vulnerable to a particular kind of predation. It’s a lifetime’s work, I know. I still have some way to go, but I know where to turn when any circumstances arrive to test my abilities. This is major healing weaponry.

So, what about this spring? Well, for over a week, I’d come home and have the be-gee-zus scared out of me as I walked to my front door. Yet another robin seemed to come out of nowhere. It would dart back and forth across my yard, but not straying beyond the trees of my property line. It would turn this way and that, sometimes even hopping onto the grass and bouncing along, in and out of my hedges. Of course, I grabbed my camera. Strangely, the little bird still wouldn’t move much even as I approached, clicking away. The next day, when I was once again, startled by the little red burst of flight, it suddenly (and finally) dawned on me; there must be a nest close by.  I scoured all the hedges in the front of my house and found – nothing.

I hadn’t been looking close enough. I have a honeysuckle vine on the post at my front door. In that unlikely spot, almost right in front of my eyes the whole time, was one of the sweetest sights I’ve ever seen. When I’d moved a few branches to look for a nest, three enormous beaks with eyes popped up. Utterly adorable, and the sense of renewal within that literal new birth presentation lit up my heart like Christmas lights.

 

I enjoyed their presence for only a few more days after I’d discovered them.  It was a little saddening, on the day I came home and they were all gone, but they did leave that beautiful, perfect little nest. I waited a few more days just to make sure they’d really flown off for good and then I brought the nest in. I moved a small bit of moss on the bottom and I discovered a gift within the gift – a most precious, tiny, glorious blue egg.  I placed it all in a round terrarium vase.

All the events of three years were succinctly re-wrapped in this unexpected bowl of symbolism. I choose to see this as the finishing touch on soothing old hurdles and as acknowledgement of the start of life for me on a whole new level. Certainly affirms the old adage, ‘big things come in small packages’. Oh, isn’t that the truth; the absolute honest truth?

So, here I go again.  A new round has begun. Cheers to small packages. The next time someone says life is for the birds, I’m going to say, “Yup, it sure is, at least, for me”. Thank God, and especially, all my grandmothers.

RL

Posted in Coping, Grief, Inspiration, Life, Life & Death, Storytelling, Uncategorized, WPLongform | Tagged , , , | 22 Comments