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.
Showing posts with label journal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journal. Show all posts
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
More than just letters
Tiwahe Wica Yu Wita Win
I've been thinking lately of my Lakota name. I always want to put it on things, i.e my phone(s); but never can, because the character allowance, is not long enough. it stops at Wit. If I type it in with no spaces, it will stop at: tiwahewichayuwitawi. Which, I guess might be OK. But I know better. It could be seen as acceptable as the shortened version of Win, or properly, Winyan.
I say I know better, because I do. I was taught the proper way to use my Language and why we need to use it that way. Even though, as the days go by, this concept seems to be slipping away with the ozone.
An elder of mine and I have had many discussions on how our culture has become what I call the 7-11 culture. Easy, fast, instant gratification. (I could post once a day everyday for the next year on THAT alone.) This isn't right. Our culture has always had its very own language and rules for the language, reasons for WHY words are the way they are. As an alumni of Sinte Gleska University, I will ALWAYS, ALWAYS, be for, use first, and defend (adamantly, if need be), our "true" language. The language that was put into print because of Albert White Hat.
Back to my name. Now, the proper word for Woman, is Winyan. Over time it has been acceptable to use Win. However, to use Wi, is shortening it for mere convenience, the word Wi has it's own meaning namely, the sun.
Knowing that, I refuse to perpetuate the convenience of my culture; I will not allow my name to be bastardized and shortened to Wi. First of all, my name is sacred, in the sense that it was given to me by my father, it was picked especially for me, and(to my foremost knowledge,) it is directly and correctly translated as is, without any adjustments needing to be made. Meaning, he did not have to come up with a Lakota translation for an English word.
I am VERY proud of my name. It envelops completely, my journey home and all the stepping stones that were put in place on that journey. It gave me goosebumps when I received it, because I knew what it meant, and flashed on a few specific times in my life when these events had happened. In a life so far away, and so foreign from the people whose blood flowed through my veins. It was another confirmation that the spirits had kept their hands in my life, and I had not been tossed carelessly to the greater world beyond.
I, by no means, am a fluent speaker, but I'm a constant student, as are most people,even in the English language. But this is what I know. I AM a Lakota Winyan, I am an Ina, a member of the Sicangu Nation, and therefore, it is my duty to not let our language, (or our ways) get bastardized by the wasicu "scholars" who want to make money off of it, and who, by the way DO NOT send one penny of that money back here to our tribe, our university OR our reservation. Nor can I allow it to drift away on the morning mist. I know that once it's gone, it's gone for good. And then we will be no better than, common mainstream Americans who once had a culture, but don't know much about it now.
Had I not returned home, I'd have been a Indian with no tribe, no language, no pride. But I have returned, I have taken my place in the hoop, and now I have this gorgeous daughter who speaks the language, knows her culture. She will grow up with the ceremonies, the traditions, the everyday, the this-is-what-we-do-because- this-is-who-we-are. She, will not know any different. As it should be. You cannot live your culture when it's "cool", "fun" or easy. If you are living as you should be, it will rarely be easy.
We have had far too many generations of soul-wounded, displaced, lost children who gravitate and latch onto any form of connection... (I.E, gangs). The time for that is over. We must do our parts to re instill the culture in ourselves, our lives, our children, our tribe. Do we have the answers to EVERYTHING? No. But that is what our tiwahe, tiyospaye and oyate, is for.
PS: I purposely did not translate my name. Maybe on a another day.
I've been thinking lately of my Lakota name. I always want to put it on things, i.e my phone(s); but never can, because the character allowance, is not long enough. it stops at Wit. If I type it in with no spaces, it will stop at: tiwahewichayuwitawi. Which, I guess might be OK. But I know better. It could be seen as acceptable as the shortened version of Win, or properly, Winyan.
I say I know better, because I do. I was taught the proper way to use my Language and why we need to use it that way. Even though, as the days go by, this concept seems to be slipping away with the ozone.
An elder of mine and I have had many discussions on how our culture has become what I call the 7-11 culture. Easy, fast, instant gratification. (I could post once a day everyday for the next year on THAT alone.) This isn't right. Our culture has always had its very own language and rules for the language, reasons for WHY words are the way they are. As an alumni of Sinte Gleska University, I will ALWAYS, ALWAYS, be for, use first, and defend (adamantly, if need be), our "true" language. The language that was put into print because of Albert White Hat.
Back to my name. Now, the proper word for Woman, is Winyan. Over time it has been acceptable to use Win. However, to use Wi, is shortening it for mere convenience, the word Wi has it's own meaning namely, the sun.
Knowing that, I refuse to perpetuate the convenience of my culture; I will not allow my name to be bastardized and shortened to Wi. First of all, my name is sacred, in the sense that it was given to me by my father, it was picked especially for me, and(to my foremost knowledge,) it is directly and correctly translated as is, without any adjustments needing to be made. Meaning, he did not have to come up with a Lakota translation for an English word.
I am VERY proud of my name. It envelops completely, my journey home and all the stepping stones that were put in place on that journey. It gave me goosebumps when I received it, because I knew what it meant, and flashed on a few specific times in my life when these events had happened. In a life so far away, and so foreign from the people whose blood flowed through my veins. It was another confirmation that the spirits had kept their hands in my life, and I had not been tossed carelessly to the greater world beyond.
I, by no means, am a fluent speaker, but I'm a constant student, as are most people,even in the English language. But this is what I know. I AM a Lakota Winyan, I am an Ina, a member of the Sicangu Nation, and therefore, it is my duty to not let our language, (or our ways) get bastardized by the wasicu "scholars" who want to make money off of it, and who, by the way DO NOT send one penny of that money back here to our tribe, our university OR our reservation. Nor can I allow it to drift away on the morning mist. I know that once it's gone, it's gone for good. And then we will be no better than, common mainstream Americans who once had a culture, but don't know much about it now.
Had I not returned home, I'd have been a Indian with no tribe, no language, no pride. But I have returned, I have taken my place in the hoop, and now I have this gorgeous daughter who speaks the language, knows her culture. She will grow up with the ceremonies, the traditions, the everyday, the this-is-what-we-do-because- this-is-who-we-are. She, will not know any different. As it should be. You cannot live your culture when it's "cool", "fun" or easy. If you are living as you should be, it will rarely be easy.
We have had far too many generations of soul-wounded, displaced, lost children who gravitate and latch onto any form of connection... (I.E, gangs). The time for that is over. We must do our parts to re instill the culture in ourselves, our lives, our children, our tribe. Do we have the answers to EVERYTHING? No. But that is what our tiwahe, tiyospaye and oyate, is for.
PS: I purposely did not translate my name. Maybe on a another day.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Dog Shit Among Roses
I put turtle to bed, and got up after she fell asleep. I read some blogs that I regularly read, and the posts were heavy. One woman is dealing with the suicide of her 17 year old nephew. She wrote about how she can't even imagine how his mother must feel. My mind went there as well when I read the words. What a horrific devastation. Here, in Indian country, suicides have become the norm.. sadly. My friend just lost her stepson, and her other children are devastated. Her daughter and I are friends, we met when she and I were wacipi royalty. We see each other often on the wacipi trail.
She is so incredibly devestated.. I saw her and had to look twice. It is sad and amazing how loss can change our lives so increbibly. Physically change it. It can age us in a minute. As I was watching my friend and noticing how hard this was on her, how she seemed to exude her immense grief, my mind went to how in one instant and by one choice made by another person, so many lives are changed. It's so incredibly powerful. It also reminds me of how I always say and think: someone somewhere is affected by another's actions. whhh, it's all so heavy and sad.
In another blog I regularly read, a woman is dealing with the heavy news that she will never conceive a child on her own; she wrote about how she can speak cynically of it to people she barley knows and yet she can't speak of it to her friends and family. The heaviness of her burden and fear and yearning wafted through the computer screen. I've been there, I know of the loss and fear and yearning she has. I am so grateful for turtle. I know how hard it is to yearn for something almost obsessively, how you lose sight of everything else and only those who have been there can truly understand. About two years ago, I sat at a table in a coffee shop with a friend and burst into tears when she asked about how our journey was going. This woman and I became friends because I was constantly babbling on to anyone who would listen about my desire to have a child. She spoke very openly to me about her struggles and that helped a lot. To this day, she is one of my dearest friends. To be heard, in anything, is so important. When we had turtle, she was one of the main ones right next to us, rejoicing with us. And don't get me wrong, there were MANY people who rejoiced when turtle was born. She was everyone's baby. And she was and still is SO VERY loved by so many people. My life is beautiful, and I try not to forget it for one second. I"m so very grateful for my situation and have empathy for those who are having a rough time of it right now.
A big sigh, the dichotomies of life. It's like dog shit among roses... something so beautiful mixed in with something rather gross, stinky and undesirable.
Life is hard, and I wish I could envelope both these women into healing hugs. I hope things get better for them and I wish I had a magic wand to make things all better. Sometimes, life can really suck... but when it doesn't, it is truly amazing. We don't know, where any of our journeys will take us, but if we keep going.. it will be worth it. Eventually. I jsut hope these women hold on, and surround themselves with loving, nurturing caring people who will understand, validate and support them. That is what will make this rocky time a bit easier.
She is so incredibly devestated.. I saw her and had to look twice. It is sad and amazing how loss can change our lives so increbibly. Physically change it. It can age us in a minute. As I was watching my friend and noticing how hard this was on her, how she seemed to exude her immense grief, my mind went to how in one instant and by one choice made by another person, so many lives are changed. It's so incredibly powerful. It also reminds me of how I always say and think: someone somewhere is affected by another's actions. whhh, it's all so heavy and sad.
In another blog I regularly read, a woman is dealing with the heavy news that she will never conceive a child on her own; she wrote about how she can speak cynically of it to people she barley knows and yet she can't speak of it to her friends and family. The heaviness of her burden and fear and yearning wafted through the computer screen. I've been there, I know of the loss and fear and yearning she has. I am so grateful for turtle. I know how hard it is to yearn for something almost obsessively, how you lose sight of everything else and only those who have been there can truly understand. About two years ago, I sat at a table in a coffee shop with a friend and burst into tears when she asked about how our journey was going. This woman and I became friends because I was constantly babbling on to anyone who would listen about my desire to have a child. She spoke very openly to me about her struggles and that helped a lot. To this day, she is one of my dearest friends. To be heard, in anything, is so important. When we had turtle, she was one of the main ones right next to us, rejoicing with us. And don't get me wrong, there were MANY people who rejoiced when turtle was born. She was everyone's baby. And she was and still is SO VERY loved by so many people. My life is beautiful, and I try not to forget it for one second. I"m so very grateful for my situation and have empathy for those who are having a rough time of it right now.
A big sigh, the dichotomies of life. It's like dog shit among roses... something so beautiful mixed in with something rather gross, stinky and undesirable.
Life is hard, and I wish I could envelope both these women into healing hugs. I hope things get better for them and I wish I had a magic wand to make things all better. Sometimes, life can really suck... but when it doesn't, it is truly amazing. We don't know, where any of our journeys will take us, but if we keep going.. it will be worth it. Eventually. I jsut hope these women hold on, and surround themselves with loving, nurturing caring people who will understand, validate and support them. That is what will make this rocky time a bit easier.
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