Momma Can You Hear Me?

This week and weekend was founder's day. I love this time of the year, it is the perfect reason to get out of our locked away-ness and socialize. Being able to wacipi is definitely helpful too!
I only went on friday and sunday. But both days were amazing. I saw so many people I love and on both days I met two different women who knew my mom. Personally, closely.
One told me that she was really good friends with her, and she knew her because she hung out wiht her in winner. The other one knew her because she is related to us via marriage.
Tehy both told me they loved her. The lady I spoke with today said mom was a champion jingle dress dancer. I knew she was a champion dancer, but I didnt know in what catagory. The lady today said that she danced the old style. For the first time in a long time, hearing about her didn't make me burst into tears, it didnt make that hole inside me twinge with sorrow and pain. The lady today asked about me, I told her that I miss my mom very much, but I know that everything I do, is to make her proud; it's what guides me.

As the days and hours have worn on, I feel it, the longing, it's the same longing to belong to someone. It's not as strong these days, but I still see mothers and daughters together, and it hurts a bit. I'll never have that. I don't feel like I have that. I have lots of women who love me, but none that I feel are like a motherly love, none that I can feel secure in, to rest my head on. It's the same feeling/thought I'd get when I'd watch my friends with their moms growing up. Knowing that you can be loved by a "replacement" mom, but knowing too that it isn't secure, because you aren't "really" theirs.
I said that to the woman I met on friday. The thing about being ripped away from your mother and not getting to see her again, alive, is that you can't trust others to care for you. You can't settle in, knowing that someone will be there, if you need them. I dont know. Maybe its just me. I have spent years crying myself to sleep, or alone in the dark crying, knowing that there is no woman out there who I could call up; not without feeling awkward, or justifying my call. Writing this now, makes me cry. It's my bruised soul that never fully goes away. I spent years trying to find a replacement, for that hole that she occupied, even in her absence; the closest I came was Auntie. She loved me unconditionally, mothered me, looked out and cared for me better than any other woman from the time I was taken from my mother. She loved and cared for me from the time I got back to South Dakota until the day she died. Her death about tore me apart. It was after her death that the hole returned, the feeling of being an orphan, the feeling that I was alone in this big world. Oh I've had lots of women who see the orphan in me, want to take care of me, but I'm not sure I let them. Some of them have told me, they have not let themselves.

It's a harsh thing to be torn from your mother too soon. My mother wasn't perfect, but she loved me, she loved me completely and I knew she loved me. I was 18 months when I was taken, we were together long enough to form that cruical bond and knowing I was loved by my mother is what I know got me through the hell I lived through when I was adopted. Even at that young age, it allowed me to know, the pain being inflicted on me was only temporary; I had a real mother out there who loved and wanted me. Bad thing was, she left before I could get back.
The quickest way to kill a woman or a child, is to separate them.

But as each sun rises, I'm still motherless. You can't raise the dead, and spirits only get you so far. Some days are harder than others. On those days I turn to my art, I work it out in painting or sculpture or writing. As a result, I have a ton of "mother" poems. And I focus on the fact that I have a wonderful husband and a beautiful perfect daughter who know she is loved, knows she is safe and thinks the world is perfect. I pray to God everyday, nothing mars her world. I know that my daughter and I have, and will have what I didn't; each other for as long as we are allowed. It makes me desperate to find her others who will love and support her god forbid anything happen. I dont want her to EVER feel lonely or orphaned in this world, because that makes for long, cold, lonely nights.

As far as my mom goes, I don't know if the pain will ever go away. It is a hole, I don't think will ever close. But I live every day knowing that what I can do, is make her proud. Do everything to make her know that those few months we had together, made me the amazing person I am. And she still gets credit for it, she was my beginning. I will always love her.

NOW HEAR THIS....

I now have an "offical" webiste...so move with me will you?
I'm going to www.maryblackbonnet.com

As soon as we figure it out.. i will import everything here.
thanks! MBB

the scars that remain

I am recovering slowly. At least to me slowly. The wreck really affected my heart and head in a way that ibuprophen cant' help.

I drove two places yesterday and the first time my body locked up and I got the worst migraine. The second time, my body locked up, I had the worst pressure behind my eyes. The second time i was driving us, the family, to the waterfall for an evening hike. mihigna said it was body memory. I hadn't even thought of that. I am well familiar with body memory, with my history. I guess I just never thought it would show up in something like this. I find myself wanting to edit my emotions regarding this experience, but stop myself, for myself.

The hike was a laborious effort for me. Mihigna said i was crazy for doing it. I thought the more I moved, the better I'd be. okay, the faster I'd be better. Mihigna said, "you have to deal with your pain the first 48 hours, then start returning to normal activity."

I need something, but I can't identify what that is.
Maybe it's too early, maybe I've ingested too much ibuprofen and not enough wakalyapi. maybe a walk will shake it off.....

SO EFFING AMAZING!!!

So, I decided I was going to enter the juried art show this year; and went with my gut as to what photos to enter. I chose five, and two of them won awards!!!

WOO EFFING HOOO!!!!!

I'm sooo proud of myself!!!!!!!!

I entered fog and landscape, which I retitled, "Hanhepi waste" (good morning) and that won the Dooug Ballard memorial award!!

Then I entered Jump!

It was the pic of turtle I took at Merritt of her jumping; the sun is shining on her hair (very angel-esque) and her shadow is below her.



Seriously, I cannot stop smiling!! I'm soo freaking proud of myself.

Again, believe in yourself and amazing things will happen!!!!

I have more to say, but i'm going to go back to bed.


I'm sohappy sohappysohappy!!!!!

Rich saw them and said: "Now you can say you are an award winning photographer.

It just keep getting better!!!

a million miles an hour

I have that feeling again.
The butterfly on acid feeling.
Ick.

I feel extremely driven to generate some work. Paying work, work that makes my morning commute on a plane and me living out of a suitcase and sleeping in hotel.
Now, more than ever I am keenly aware that I have the talent and the ability to support myself with my art.
I have always been able to do that,(thank god) but pre-child, I just took a lackadaisical approach; I'd get a few jobs here and there, no rush, no worry.

Perhaps it feels different now, because I have a child and so I feel as if I have been removed from the art world for the last two years; and it's time for me to emerge from that black hole.
Maybe its because I'm in this art no mans land, and I'm desperate to be back among my own kind. I just know it's an uncomfortable feeling and one I either need to fix, (hence, get the hell out of dodge as soon as possible) or find a way to make peace with, hence get gigs all over and travel again, which is really what I LOVE.
No matter what, I need to get on the ball and
*get my poetry book published,
*finish the book on wakaneja
*find a publisher for my lakota children's' stories
*find a publisher for my coffee table photo book.

*get some contacts who will be all over my ass in NY; for either my writing or my photography, or ideally, BOTH.


The one thing I have seen these last two years is, there is a lot of stuff out there, some of it good and some of it, not so good. But I know how amazing my work is, and I have just got to figure out how to get it into the hands of the people who will see and push it. I can't afford to be lackadaisical anymore.


It feels good to still have this many irons in the fire, but I would like a bit more fluidity to it as well.

I am not making any sense right now, because my brain wont' stop firing.

Writers retreat

The WAN writers retreat was amazing. We started out with locals and then and by Sunday, we had two ladies join us from North Platte and one lady from Ainsworth! It was a great eclectic mix with everyone bringing their various levels of writing experience and life experiences to the table and that is what made the difference I think.

My workshop was a hit and the energy is the room was at a vibrant level, this stayed with us for much of the weekend.

I was so proud of all the participants, they absolutely trusted me and each other with their hearts, their vulnerabilities, and their writing. (Which I feel, are often all rolled in one.) There were a few who were in various stages of processing some grief and I'm glad they came, because they are now equipped with a tool to make that process easier.

There were really two things that came out at the retreat, and they were both things that tie humans together, no matter the gender. The one was grief and the other was realizing we dont take time for ourselves to nourish our souls enough. Granted the women talked of this mostly, as the men listened intently, thinking; "Oh crap, does that mean I have to do my own laundry and my own cooking?" (Ha Ha Bob and Dan!)

Speaking of men,there were only two in attendance for the whole workshop, old cowboys. But no need to worry about them, they were totally in their element, flanked on all sides by beautiful women!
It was so amazing because at the beginning, I don't think anyone had any intention of sharing their writing, but EVERYONE did. And that was the glue that bonded everyone together... even the words were spoken: "I thought I was the only one who felt this way."
And THAT is why I love writing, writing retreats and groups. Because you find out how UN alone you really are.
By Sunday we were all exhausted, because we had processed so much through our writing, that we were a bit draggy; but very happy.

I kept hearing people talking of how the retreat was healing, and that really touched me. That is not necessarily what I went in to do, but process took over what needed to happen, did.

The women and men I met as strangers at the start of the retreat walked away as friends and all now reside in my heart.

We have formed a writing group and we met for the first time yesterday.
But more on that, later.

My new post!!

My new post is up at Life As A Human... AND I'm in the Author spotlight for the website! So, go read it!!!!!


www.lifeasahuman.com/2010/humor/the-boobie-prize