I knew it! I knew it, is in the same family with Something told me. (in a previous post) Why would you say, I knew it? Because you had preconceived a notion. You had created something by simply thinking about it and repeating it in your mind by rote. Because it was in your belief system, you believed it. You expected it. Tonight I got the unexpected. I saw a post on facebook about a healing ceremony for Native Americans where other Natives from around the world would come and heal themselves from the pain of what was done to them. I went to the website, Rise2012, and must have misinterpreted. Maybe because a joining and healing is what I have wanted for so long, maybe I just wanted to think it was an open ceremony for all colors to heal. They had a face book page as well, so I went there. I looked at the 2,100 something members and a lot of them were white so I asked to join the group. I have the deepest respect for the Native Americans, their beliefs and all they have endured. I am deeply wounded that they have suffered so. That the color white was misused in such a way. I believe in the colors. Red, yellow, blue. That’s it. Then you have the light and the dark. I did a painting of God’s hand with those three balls of color in his hand and He blows. In another painting, it shows land, sea, dolphins, etc. I’ll show ya, but I’m fairly embarrassed at the quality. I’m an artist, what can I say. Never happy with my work, but with me, it really never is about the quality, but about the message.
Back to the Native Americans, well, it was a closed group, so I asked to join, as this was something I had long awaited, anticipated and expected. There’s that word again. Expectations suck, people. They ruin lives, they even kill. So, almost immediately, I am accepted into the group and the very first post I see, which was just posted, is one saying that the fb page and the event itself were only intended for Native Americans and other indigenous peoples. I had just been to the website and it was this dying Native American’s wish to heal the wounds of the People. He has passed on. I’m thinking, apparently wrongly, that they finally want to make peace. I am thrilled to no extent. I am giddy. So I get into the group and see this post, posted by the maker of the page and I come to a screeching halt. Oh wow, I was wrong. They haven’t forgiven and realized we are all one, even though it’s their mantra. Mitakuye Oyasin. We are all related, or All my relations. So, I see this post and the comments beneath, one being about white women with their hair braided, jumping around at ceremonies and powwows. I am mortified. I write a post, and believe you me, it was very carefully worded, no freedom of spirit. Here is what I said.
I misunderstood, I’m sorry. I am a white lady. Should you remove me? May I say though, before you do, that I have the highest regard for the Native Americans and their ways and a shame in my soul for what has been done, and is still being done. I have been to the Hopi village and even allowed into a closed ceremonial dance, but I felt dirty and undeserving to be there. I pray you find healing from your sadness. Thank you for allowing me in for a moment so I could say these words.
I even struggled with the word indigenous. I wasn’t sure if etiquette required the I to be capitalized, so instead I used the words Native American. I wanted badly to say that I’d been to 3 sweat lodges. The third one being the important one. It was September 11th. That I was in Sedona visiting a friend, who also had a Lakota Sioux Medicine Man visiting. Anyways, I’ll leave a bunch out to get back to the point. Dezi, the medicine man, was on the phone with the Leader of the Lakota. We were all to hold sweat lodges at 12 noon around the states. Noon in Arizona is 105 degrees. We held the sweat and it is known not to leave, but a guy kept saying he wanted out. Dezi made him exit the correct way with the instructions to remain outside to hold the energy. The 2nd round. The guy got out in the MIDDLE of the 2nd round. A GUY got out in the MIDDLE of the 2nd Round! The power this gave me was astronomical. I stayed all the way to the fifth, normally there are 4, but this was a big day. I was there in the 105 degree heat. I was there to say the prayers. I was red, yellow and blue, as were all the other participants.
This may sound odd to you, but my main prayers during the sweat were for the enemies of our nation, for the leaders of those countries to heal. I wish the Native Americans could see that some of us, are simply connected, through Spirit and there’s not a darn thing that can be done about it. What country requires such rigorous rules as to whether you are or are not of that nation? What Peoples cannot recognize their own, in any skin, in any color? It’s not just with the non indigenous, but within the indigenous themselves. Blood. Blood proof is required to prove you are one of them. It is the dawning of a new age. The Age of Aquarius, is the song from my childhood, linking me to this time, here and now. It is time for the Native Americans and the white man and woman and even the animals to unite and be as one, as, nearly All natives suggest is the way. I have been waiting to be allowed to tell them how sorry I am, to tell them that I know they can heal, they can refind, reinvent, reaccept, relove themselves. It is the only way. Blend, until the end.
So, I started a commotion. I didn’t intend it but maybe Spirit did. I honestly thought it was,… well it doesn’t matter what I thought. I started a commotion. Now they are all arguing. One person has been refused entry to the event and I am torn between two emotions. Sadness that I caused more pain for them and joy, that the conversation is taking place. The responses to my comment are mixed. One person was upset that I used the words Native American, and not the word indigenous, some were very open and gracious while others insisted that it was a Sacred Ceremony for them to heal themselves from all that was done to them. I wonder how you heal in a situation like that? The grief will come up, the anger will come up, but where will the healing come from? It is a hard thing for them, their scars are fresh. It’s a closed ceremony. Simple words like that, would have negated this whole thing. Had they been on the original website and or the facebook page. You know, big and bold. I simply thought the time had come. I was wrong. Or maybe not. Maybe not this ceremony, but maybe a ceremony in another moment soon. I caused a commotion.
And when I woke, I was laid low. The Cherub passed in her sleep. I found her dead in the exact spot as I’d found her the night I brought her in. Her spot. Her sleeping spot. Ok, back up. Last night she began crying relentlessly. Refused both bottles. Then the cries turned to screams. I wasn’t sure if it was pain or her missing her mommy, so I took her to Yoki and she was happy. They both were. I was having a liver sonogram in the morning so couldn’t eat or drink anything, so I was going to go to bed early and wake up with only enough time to drive to the place. No hot tea? No juice? Anyway, I went to play ball with Bluedog before bed. I’d already taken the half a valium to get me to sleep and I hear the baby screaming again. So I make a bottle and attempt to give it to her. She refused it again. I was so groggy. I kept trying but finally left her there with her mom where she seemed the most content.
When I woke, I couldn’t stop myself from checking on the Cherub before I left. She was gone. She had passed while she lay sleeping. I had to leave her there. I wailed the whole way to town and couldn’t stop the streaming tears in the waiting room and even made a scene when they told me they didn‘t have the orders and would not be able to do the sonogram. I said, Fine, let me die. Ha, Don‘t know where that came from, but as I was driving away I realized I could call the Dr and have the orders called in, which I did and the sonogram is done. Results tomorrow. I have lost 6 more pounds, just since Cherub was born, one week ago, and 5 lbs the two weeks before that. Need some joy.
Upon return, I first made Lovey a bottle, then drove the Zen buggy over with a sweater and a shovel. Lovey got his bottle. Then I carried the sweater in. Yoki was laying next to Cherub as if nothing was wrong. I picked the baby up and laid her on the sweater on the shearing stand. Her mom got upset. I kept saying, Yoki, she’s dead, she’s dead, but it didn’t register for her. I lift the baby in the air and just hold her there. Her tiny body is just drooping in my hands. Yoki comes over and smells the baby and I mean smells her. Every tiny inch of her 4.5 oz body. Yes, she had gained a few ounces. I keep repeating the words, Cherub is dead, Cherub is dead. Finally she understands. She takes one last sniff and walks over to eat some hay. She had said goodbye. I buried her myself while listening to O’Children, on repeat, as I’ve done for other burials. My Cherub, Our Cherub has crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Rainbow Bridge, all colors are welcome there. So, Last night I made a commotion and this morning I was laid low. Lo-commotion. Movement. Forward. May we all move forward into these new days with love and compassion and a respect and compassion for all colors. Red Yellow and Blue.
I took you with me on the journey of a tiny baby and I’m sorry. Now, what would have been just my pain, may reach you. I’m sorry. This is farm life. It’s very rewarding. The joys are sky high and the lows are almost to China. You know that saying, digging to China. I hope you will do, as I will do,… go on. Go on and be preparing and watching for the next little gift. The next tiny gift and the others to follow. The babies, who were God’s first and God’s always. Mama loves you Cherub. Signing off at Curly Locks Ranch. P.S. I saw snake again last night. Transforming.