MOVING TO MONTANA
Sorry folks about going so long without posting. This is an old one from when I visited Montana two years ago. Now I am moving there!! I’m excited but in my head I imagined going there in the late spring playing all summer and then slowly getting ready for winter. Nooooo! I have to start my job on February 7th! I didn’t even own a sweater a few weeks ago!! Now I have several sweaters boots that keep my feet warm to -30 (Not sure if I quite believe THAT I have a sleeping bag that goes down to zero but they neglected to tell me the part about being in a 70 degree house under a pile of buffalo robes then it keeps you warm!) Anyway my long down coat arrived today. Beautiful with coyote trim on the hood (sorry PETA) At least I’ll be wearing it in Montana and not L.A….The experts say that real fur around a hood protects the face much better than faux fur. Thank you coyote!!
I wish I were all packed and ready to go but that is not the case. Luckily I still have a few weeks. I wish I were so organized I could live out of a backpack but as it is I have sent multitudes of boxes which should arrive in Montana by the end of the week. Most of them were art related. Several trips to the Goodwill and other area donation drop-offs. How do I accumulate so much? I even got rid of most of my books and scanned my photos. I am embracing the digital technology that is such a space saver.
I tried to send a box of acrylic paints but apparently that is included in the ridiculous Homeland Security nonsense. I don’t know how Dick Blick managed to send me all of my paint in the first place!
Tired from a long day of cleaning I even cleaned behind the refridgerator…
sorry OREGON DUCKS for your loss.
It was so beautiful that I had to go hiking! There is a Continental Divide Trail up in the mountains above Butte. The bears have not gone to sleep yet so my friend took me to a sporting goods store where for 35 dollars I purchased a big bottle of bear spray….when I got back to Oregon I showed it to my brother who said it doesn’t really work and bears run 40 miles an hour…..yada yada yada….try to ruin my mental safety comfort. Evil I tell you! Anyway I enjoyed myself more because of the bear spray…I would have worried in the back of my mind.Furthermore in the snow the amount of animal tracks was incredible!!
I was surrounded by beauty and did a lot of talking to God! Even got a few answers!!
BEAUTIFUL CHAPEL OUTSIDE OF BIG SKY MONTANA
I drove by this church and then turned around…there just seemed to be something special calling me back. This is Soldiers Chapel
its just a little bitty thing but its presence is huge although surrounded by mountains.
I had to get a diagonal shot so Lone Mountain could be seen…
There is also a dedication to soldiers in front of the chapel
Like a good church should be….the doors were unlocked….and what a site! Instead of stained glass or a giant cross there was a picture window
Could there be a better backdrop to a sermon than to bring the nature of God into the room? The photo could be better but you get the idea. It was truly a wonderful experience
and there was a beautiful stained window depicting a soldier behind the pews
LITTLE BALD HILLS TRAIL
Guessing this is another consequence of spending most tax dollars on war , loaning out money at near zero % to companies who declare socialism is evil except when it applies to them…anyway the road to Stout Grove the “crown jewel” of the Redwoods was closed due to bad road conditions….
There was scant parking and people had a difficult time turning around on this little one lane dirt road. Since I have been visiting the Redwoods (last five years) each year I see how trails are let go..not fixed in a timely fashion or not fixed at all if it is not a popular trail.
I’m wasn’t headed for Stout Grove but this trail I have never been on.
Little Bald Hills climbs up and up and transitions from Redwoods to Jeffrey Pines. A guide says there are 22 native grasses, more than 100 flowering species, 5 manzanitas. This is the only trail in the Redwoods that allows bikes and horses.
You can be sure that by the time I turned around a bit after the wilderness camp I wished I had a horse to ride back down!!
truly I never get tired of hiking in the Redwoods….and depending on the time of day where the sun is shining its a different experience and different opportunities to take photographs.
Along most trails in the Redwoods are these wood benches with dedication plaques for those people who helped save the Redwoods. It was quite an effort as you can imagine most of the Redwoods were already cut down by logging. I can’t imagine the disconnect of putting a chainsaw to one of these beautiful, majestic trees….Like cutting off one of GOD’S fingers…and never a thought about it.
more to come….
YELLOW TRUCK IN BUTTE
I always like to get away from the tourist sections of towns…I love the nitty gritty of life. It seems to me that one could do this with the spiritual life…there is a duality and one we view as good the other as bad but there is always the talk of this “middle” path where one doesn’t over react or judge what is before them. But I see the nittygritty the urban decay as beautiful and stunning…and that was not always the case.
I wonder if God sees the nitty gritty of the human heart as a beautiful creation…all to often we condemn the politicians…the criminals…those who offend us so greatly. Of course certain behaviors and offenses should carry a consequence either natural or imposed but along with forgiveness and recognition for each person no matter how unrecognizable it is to us
All too often this is mostly what we we recognize as beauty..
FINALLY STARTING MY CHRISTMAS CARDS!!!
This was a post from last year….my cards were quite late last year! It takes a long time to paint the envelopes I am hoping that even with my late start this year that I will get them out in time but the blog may suffer a bit…We’ll see…I have a whole bunch of projects going on at once….To further my panic I received my first Christmas card yesterday…one of my friends is going to the Amazon for a month so she sent her cards early! Wow I hope she takes lots of photos!!
From last year…
Every year I paint the envelopes of the cards I send out. Someone suggested I start signing and numbering them, but then I would have to make sure that they were perfect. I got lazy and used a Sharpie for the address because it was so much faster. I will never do that again. It takes away from the artwork. With my family emergency this year I am trying to beat myself up too much….but that is how my brain works. My Christmas cards are a sort of meditation or prayer to God. I abandoned any formal religious themes this year because religion is the cause of so much pain and hurt on this planet.
PHOTO I TOOK IN THE REDWOODS
THE ENVELOPE
As simple as they may look it takes several layers of paint to get good coverage. I’m getting to where I need to start them in October to make sure they get to people by December 25th! I thank my Uncle Vic for writing that he doesn’t care how late they are they are worth waiting for! I have a distant relative that is pissed off at me because she didn’t get her card from me before Christmas!
Everyone should go on a hike every week instead of going to church. Unplug your televisions! See what you are missing in your state I guarantee that just about every city has trails you can hike within 60 miles. We get lazy and ignore our surroundings….we ignore the things that are important and instead go to the mall or a movie….TV…
Here is a picture of me teaching my nephew Frankie how to be a tree hugger!
FRANKIE AND ME HUGGING A GIANT REDWOOD
BOYCOTT DISNEYLAND AND BUY A NATIONAL PARK PASS FOR $80.00 AND THEY ARE GOOD FOR A WHOLE YEAR!!!!
FRANKIE AND HIS MOTHER JUANITA IN THE REDWOODS
OUR NATIONAL PARKS HAVE HAD THEIR BUDGETS CUT AND MANY OF THE TRAILS ARE IN BAD REPAIR…..ONLY THE MOST POPULAR TRAILS ARE KEPT UP.
GUS AND HIS MOTHER JUANITA THE YEAR BEFORE
IT PISSES ME OFF WHEN PEOPLE LEAVE TRASH ON THE TRAILS. I ALMOST ALWAYS CARRY A TRASH BAG IN MY BACKPACK. I ALWAYS FIND THE TOPS OF GATORADE OR POWERBAR WRAPPERS ON THE TRAIL. OCCASSIONALY I FIND A PILE OF BEER CANS.
SHAME ON YOU!!!
GUS AND HIS MOTHER IN THE TRUNK OF A FALLEN TREE
THE BOYS LOVE THE REDWOODS
FRANKIE A YEAR LATER IN THE SAME TRUNK
THE TREES DON’T GROW THIS BIG IN VIRGINIA
FRANKIE ON A LOG
IT BOGGLES MY MIND THAT LOGGERS COULD TAKE A CHAINSAW TO THESE INCREDIBLE TREES.
FRANKIE IN A HOLE BURNED OUT BY A LIGHTNING STRIKE
OREGON CUT DOWN ALMOST ALL OF THEIR REDWOODS THERE IS A ROAD THAT HAS A LITTLE SIGN THAT SAYS OREGON REDWOODS BUT YOU GET THE FEELING IT AIN’T LIKE THE CALIFORNIA REDWOODS. I WILL HAVE TO GET UP THERE THIS SPRING THERE ARE SO MANY PLACES I WANT TO GO.
GUS PRETENDING HE IS DEAD IN THE REDWOODS.
ALL OF THESE PHOTOS ARE FROM STOUT GROVE EXCEPT FOR MY CHRISTMAS CARD WHICH WAS TAKEN A BIT OFF OF MILL CREEK TRAIL.
A CROSS ON ROGUE RIVER
CHARCOAL SKETCH OF CROSS ON THE ROGUE RIVER
Once upon a time I drove past Merlin, Oregon to the Rogue River in an attempt to escape my brother’s rabid girlfriend. Frustrated with a bad year in Pahrump Hell and a disastrous move back to Oregon (all is well now!) I needed to be by myself, do some thinking and meditating. I sat by the rivers edge for several hours. At one point I looked up and across from me on the other side of the river was a cross up on a rock formation. I had not remembered seeing it earlier. When I saw the cross I knew that everything would be alright. I drew a picture of it and was so angry, frustrated, and scared I tore a hole in the paper on the bottom right corner. I spent that day alternately cursing and praying.
CHARCOAL SKETCH I DID THE SAME DAY OF A BRIDGE OVER THE ROGUE RIVER.
The next day I went back and there was no cross. I thought I had lost my mind because I had sat and drawn a picture of it. I climbed back up the bank of the river and turned to look one last time, there it was only further down and closer to the tree in the sketch. You couldn’t see it while sitting by the river because of the rock formations.
The thing about God is that he/she/energy is always there. No reverence required the only thing in life you can trust no matter how much you scream, lament, curse, shake your fist at….God is greater than that and as I read recently in THE SHACK it doesn’t really matter what path you choose in life he will be be there.
THE PINNACLES AT CRATER LAKE
PINNACLES OVERVIEW (See the little creek down there I hiked down to it and there were a bazillion mosquitoes...and they were hungry!
HALFWAY UP RUNNING FROM THE MOSQUITOES (They chased me back up the side of the mountain! Literally! They weren't here on the way down...I stopped here to catch my breath and pray to God and roll in the dust! Seriously it was unreal but being the budding photographer I took a photo!
PINNACLES OVERVIEW II
THE PINNACLES OVERVIEW III
ANNA MAE AQUASH 22/WOVOKA/SLAUGHTER OOPS I MEAN BATTLE OF WOUNDED KNEE
All excerpts are in italics and from THE UNQUIET GRAVE by Steve Hendricks.
WOW!!!! Finally on CHAPTER 3…
In 1890, after the last of the nomadic Indians had been confined to reservations, there arose among the Paiutes of Nevada a new religion.
Its Prophet, Wovoka, said God knew his children were suffering and He was prepared to return them to Eden. All He required was that they live peacefully, work hard, and perform a dance, the ghost dance, which God had taught Wovoka.
The Indian Bureau, predecessor of the BIA, permitted the faith to spread (by golly that sure is nice for man to allow the WORD OF GOD to be spread) peaceful living and hard work were precisely what were wanted of the Indian. But as the religion crept eastward, it mutated. the ghost dance soon promised not merely an earthly Eden for Indians but also the annihilation of whites. (A perfect example of how corrupted the bible is today. Mankind no matter the race feels compelled to “help” God clarify His meaning!)
In its turn to militancy, the religion acquired an amulet: the ghost dance shirt, which , when worn by a person of faith, was said to make him impervious to gunfire.
On Pine Ridge the Oglalas called the superintendent Young Man Afraid of Indians. Addled by the dancers’ chants, Young Man Afraid wrote the army, “Indians are dancing in the snow and are wild and crazy….we need protection and we need it now.”
So General Nelson Miles seizes the dancer’s headmen Sitting Bull. There is gunfire and Sitting Bull is killed along with thirteen others. General Miles then rounds up all of the ghost dancing bands except one.
...led by a chief named Big Foot, whose group had been swollen with the survivors of Sitting Bull’s dancers In late December the Seventh Cavalry intercepted Big Foot in the Badlands. The Cavalrymen marched the few hundred Lakotas to Wounded Knee Creek where the next day, December 29, 1890, Colonel James Forsyth had them encircled. Forsyth mounted Hotchkiss machine guns on the surrounding hilltops and demanded the Indians weapons. the tense surrender of guns was barely underway when a shot was fired.
Neither the shooter nor his motive will ever be known, but his shot was followed by a bloodletting the likes of which the Plains had never seen.
The cavaliers loosed their Hotchkisses on the Indians…Abdomens and skulls were exploded like so many watermelons. The bullets severed limbs like leaves from trees, Great pools of blood seeped over the snow as men and women, infants and the infirm fell in heaps. what the big guns missed, scores of carbines picked off. Long after the Indians stopped firing, the soldiers continued. Fleeing children were pursued for miles through frozen creekbeds before being shot in the back. The ghostdance shirts offered a thin defense against Manifest Destiny
The Army said the mass grave it dug the next day held 146 Lakotas, of whom 44 were women and 18 children. One of the muirdered was Big Foot. the army reported another 51 Indians wounded, 7 of whom eventually died, the Lakotas said their dead numbered more like 3590.
On the cavalry’s side, the army claimed 25, killed and 39 wounded. Most (perhaps all) were killed by their comrades’ crossfire.
The army said then-and says now- that what happened at Wounded Knee was a pitched battle among equals, and it awarded twenty Congressional Medals of Honor to the Seventh for bravery at the “Slaughter Battle of Wounded Knee.”
In 1975, Senator James Abourezk of South Dakota proposed that the government compensate the heirs of the massacre’s victimes with a niggardly $3,000 apiece-a total burdenon the treasury of about %600,000. the army fought the bill, and Congress sided with the army. The press gave the matter the smallest blip of attention,and the nation left the Indians to their open wound.
What can you expect Indians are not white….. CEO’s who have stolen trillions from the people are rewarded with a few more trillion!! Not because of racism no siree!! (just ask dem white folks over at alt.native.)
On a more serious note. The mass grave at Wounded Knee should belong to the Indians whose ancestors reside there. To me a dead body is a dead body and the soul no longer lingers in it. But I think that the Indians believe something different and it hurts them to have their ancestors are disturbed. Can you imagine how many white people visit the grave site with a mean spirit and to gloat? White people should only be allowed to visit if they are a guest.
PENDLETON WHISKY….IT’S WHATS FOR BREAKFAST
BEST DAMN WHISKY
No, I’m not working today. In addition I have coffee eggs and potatoes! It’s a great day!
Johnny Cash on the stereo…
I dedicate this to Anna Mae Aquash.
Be you James Simon…AIM….FBI…anyone involved in her murder….
But getting back to the BEST DAMN WHISKY!
PENDLETON WHISKY is imported and bottled by Hood River Distillers (I would put a link there but it goes to a page where you have to swear you are over 21…).
PENDELTON WHISKY is made in association with the PENDLETON ROUND-UP in PENDELTON, Oregon.
The city of PENDELTON is also home of the PENDELTON WOOLEN MILLS (I must say the website is a fucking disappointment looks like a J.C.Penny or Sears catalog!)
Thank God for DREW’S BOOTS in Klamath Falls they have a website that looks like it wasn’t made by a bunch of manicured New Yorkers!
When my sister last visited me in Oregon she bought a bunch of stuff at Drew’s we (her son Frankie and I) practically had to lasso and hog-tie her to get her out of there!!!
GOD DID NOT PUT ME ON THIS EARTH TO CLEAN HOUSE
If God wanted me to have a clean house I would be filled with joy at the prospect of plugging in my vaccuum cleaner. This is not the case I can think of no less than 10,000 things that I would rather be doing than cleaning my house!
I keep up in the kitchen and bathroom try to vacuum at least once a week but you should see the dust in my house. You could plant things.
I’m not talking about growing some little grass seeds either. I could plant fucking avocado seeds!
Underneath, in between, and on top of the dust are paintbrushes, paint, thinner, lots and lots of paper, magazines, books, photographs, mail, sewing supplies, fabric…because I don’t like my clothes on the floor I hang them on various furniture which does not leave a lot of options since I hardly OWN any furniture!
Every once in awhile I look around my apartment and wonder where the hell all of this crap came from?
MY DESK I SWEAR I CLEANED IT OFF TWO DAYS AGO!!!
YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THIS TABLE BEFORE I CLEANED IT!!!
I don’t dare to take pictures of the rest of my apartment which is no where near as bad but since I was sick for almost two weeks and it is unusually messy. I spent the day photographing artwork so I had to clear out a work space.
Deep inside I envy those Zen Buddhists who have no clutter, maybe a rock as the only decoration on a table.
I have so many projects that I am working on what the hell was I thinking when I started a blog? I love every minute of it!
It is time consuming and I have a painting in the works that has recently been neglected, I have a stack of books that needs to be read, a quilt that I should have finished by now, I need to install memory in my computer and I worry I will lose everything so I need to make up back up disks which will take a fair amount of time. I have a pile of clothes that need to be ironed. AAAGGGHHH!!!
I detest dirty sheets on my bed and while I don’t like the physical act of changing them the end result brings me much joy! This is not the case with dust on my furniture or clutter. I do not care. The only reason I care is because others visit my house.
I have a friend who is a clean freak she vacuums and washes her kitchen floor EVERY day. So I bought her a magnet that says A CLEAN HOUSE IS THE SIGN OF A WASTED LIFE!
One of my bosses had a theory of house cleaning that was scientific….THERE COMES A POINT IN TIME WHERE YOU HAVE TRACKED SO MUCH DIRT IN TO YOUR HOUSE THAT EVENTUALLY YOU WILL BEGIN TO TRACK IT OUT! You just have to have patience!
Maybe I need to change my attitude but I find no joy at the prospect of these chores!
GARDENS IN THE DUNES II
I am still reading GARDENS IN THE DUNES as I have a habit of falling asleep while I am reading.
On my last post about this book I was relaying a conversation I had with my brother about the difference between white and Indian writers as it pertained to the land. I couldn’t find a way to explain what it meant to me personally. But since I like to torture myself….I have been contemplating it since.
I don’t think that ALL Indian writers portray what I’m talking about I love Sherman Alexie but I think that has to do with his sense of humor….and the subject matter is so close to experiences of my own (except for the being an Indian part!!!). His imagery in SUMMER OF THE BLACK WIDOWS was incredible…but I don’t sense that he has the feel about land the way Momaday or Silko has.
Someone on Alt.native made a comment if I am remembering correctly about growing up outside and choosing to stay in a tent for a summer. I was stunned that anything I had to say would cause a discussion around someone elses dinner table.
I thought about that too…but I grew up on a goat farm my parents owned 40 acres of mostly timber. There were all sorts of wild flowers, Iris, Tigerlilly, Queen Anne’s lace, Trillium….Oregon has so many wild flowers fields of daisies covered with “spit bugs”. We weren’t supposed to put the Fox Glove in our mouths but I always would…just to get the sweet nectar. We picked berries and nuts. I knew how to make a Black Berry Roly Poly by the time I was in 4th grade.
We lived outdoors for the most part and my Dad would set up this giant family size canvas tent for the summers and we would often stay out there.
But it wasn’t until about 10 years ago when I was driving through the Utah desert that I woke up….When I lived in Alaska I worked at a lodge near Mt. McKinley and I thought it was beautiful but….it didn’t move me of course I was pretty fucked up at the time….but that’s another story.
Now nature staggers me….the sight of a tree can bring me to tears. I finally had an epiphany while going through pictures on my computer. I have been sick and today I stayed home and did stuff that needs to be done like deleting pictures and trying to figure out why my computer is getting slow and freezing up….I need more memory.
Waterfall near Mt. Shasta
Nature staggers me and I think that the difference is that I now understand that it is alive….not so much a convenience. I understand the concept about everything being connected on an intellectual level it is common sense.
OREGON COAST
OREGON COAST
I don’t know if I feel that interconnectedness. For me it is almost as if they are made of the same stuff as humans. Nature is no longer an indentured servant that bends to my will. It is my equal. Maybe even above me as it seems to have such a healing psychological effect on me.
Mt. SHASTA
A BEAUTIFUL MONUMENT
The mountains and trees now all have different personalities but I’m not sure that is quite the word I am looking for.
THE FOREST FLOOR IN THE REDWOODS
FERNS IN THE REDWOODS
I had a thought that when I saw this place that we should force President Bush, Dick Cheney, and Donald Rumsfeld to stay here until they stopped wanting to torture people. You know stop the nagging and criticizing of them because it wasn’t working……they weren’t listening… but maybe the trees and all those ferns could help them.
ROCK FORMATIONS ON THE WAY TO KLAMATH FALLS
WATERFALL IN THE SIERRAS
I like looking up at things that are so much greater than me because I think that maybe I am growing tired of always pretending I am God…I’m not very good at it.
TRAIL IN FOREST AT FOWLER CAMPGROUND
BROWN MOUNTAIN TRAIL(i think)
STAIRWAY IN THE REDWOODS
God has given me many paths to go down. But I was scared and under the guise of pretending to be God ….that I could do a better job I ignored him. Not that I have any serious regrets but….
CLOUDS BETWEEN BURNS AND BEND OREGON (The negative got scratched)
my arrogance is like this endless sky. It has no limits!!!
GOD, ME, DAD, MONICA CHARLES, INDIANS AND WHITE PEOPLE
I don’t have faith in God I KNOW God is with me. However you care to define God he, she, it. Growing up with the Christian/Catholic element I usually refer to God as He but if I were to describe Him it would be in the metaphysical terms of the energy that makes up the universe.
I also have an equally strong will of my own. I hate for people to tell me what to do and I despise reading instructions. That is the real reason I haven’t learned how to use any of my cameras, cell phones, Sirus radio, computer…to their fullest capabilities. I learn enough to get what I need out of them and then impatience overwhelms me.
That I know God is the reason why I can tolerate being around people who hate Him. I joined the Church of Latter Day Saints years ago. Because I had to. I had no previous knowledge of the religion except that they had lots of wives and they annoyed me with their proselytizing. I was not always a nice person when Mormons knocked on my door. I think my sister was there one time when I told them that God wanted me to be saved but the only way I could do that was if they drank a shot of whiskey with me. Yeah I was pretty bad.
In general I am not a joiner of ANY thing. I resisted but it kept calling louder and louder and I still resisted. Every cell in my body said to I HAD to join the church. Night and day I was plagued. Then one day as I pulled into my driveway there they were two young missionaries waiting for me. They were very thirsty and I gave them water. I joined the church not knowing why I had to join but eventually the reasons came out and many positive things came out of it. My dear friend Edith and the ability to speak in public. A fear that me and my siblings have all had to overcome. Probably because our parents instilled on a daily basis that we were all stupid and our opinions and thoughts were denegrated, ripped apart, ridiculed to the point that we all lost our voices. We have all spent many years learning how to recover them.
I left the church but God stayed with me.
I didn’t grow up going to church but we said grace and prayers had bible stories around the house. Oodles of Catholic guilt foisted upon us. I learned to hate God and that guilt producing son of a bitch Jesus. I grew up in a community that could only be riveled by the movie DELIVERENCE. A bunch of religious wack jobs who fucked their daughters then blamed it on Satan….and their evil wantonness daughters. Generation after generation of disrespect for women.
What I find most amazing about Christians is how much they worship Satan. And most often they view Satan as being more powerful than God. Even the Mormons who actually named their religon after Jesus Christ believe Satan to be more powerful. Of course Satan was just invented to avoid taking responsibility for your actions…God gives you free will and you have to take responibility for what you choose in life. God is greater than the judgements that mankind has attributed to Him. But all decisions have natural consequences. Consequences NOT punishments. My knowledge of God does not include Satan. There is nothing in the universe but God. And still I continue to ignore Him even as I ask for His help!!!
Because of a woman named Monica Charles this blog has a twice the readers it would have. While I ultimately don’t care how many people visit my blog. It is exciting and flattering to see the numbers go up and up. I appreciate all of my readers. Some people have suggested that Monica Charles is a racist that is using me. I understand and appreciate those peoples concerns but my view is different. I see Monica Charles as a great warrior who after years and years probably since her childhood doesn’t know how to stop and be good to herself….simply because she is worthy of a rest. Her goals have fallen short as they have for all members of AIM…as they have for all Indians living on reservations…. in America. EVERY other ethnic group in the United States has a larger voice and presence in the United States. It is not a lack of effort or bravery it is an uphill battle with opponents at the top, sides and bottom…and most damaging…. opponents from within.
I hear Monica Charles laments of a people she knows nothing about. Mark Thompson from MAKE IT PLAIN would say that it is impossible for an Indian to be racist. Because RACISM IMPLIES POWER. If you are powerless you cannot possibly be racist. This is a new concept for me and at first I resisted it. Monica Charles is expressing hurt, bewilderment, anger and hatred for oppressors who have NEVER listened to her. THIS IS NOT PERSONAL AND NEEDS TO BE TAKEN ON A WHOLE.
I admire and envy Monica Charles for her inability/refusal to retreat!!! THATS A FUCKING WARRIOR!! Imagine what America would be if there had been a thousand of her when Europeans first… dare I say it??? DISCOVERED America! As a Euromutt and a human being I MUST say that if there had been a tribe of Monica’s I would not have been born!!! I cannot possibly share the same views as Indians when it comes to the land….because I was BORN here. I AM NOT GOING TO LEAVE!!! My Dad did not raise me to be anything but American. If he had less than positive opinions towards Indians I’m not sure that they were lower than the French, and he was not overly impressed with the British either. When Princess Diana was marrying Price Charles I remember asking my Dad WHY IS THIS SUCH A BIG DEAL IN AMERICA. He replied BECAUSE MOST AMERICANS FORGOT WHO WON THE GOD DAMNED WAR! That still makes me laugh he had the driest sense of humor and the best one liners. One time we were at an awards banquet and they made the mistake of serving Thousand Island dressing with the salad. Well my Dad with already a few beers in him loudly proclaimed that THE THOUSAND ISLANDS BELONG TO THE CANADIANS AND THEY SHOULD KEEP THEIR GOD DAMNED SALAD DRESSING!! (He was a blue cheese lovin’ man!)
Indians and Whites do not understand each other. Of course there are exceptions but I am only dealing with the whole picture. To a certain extent we can never understand each other because we are not each other. Whites do not understand the big deal about having a team named the Redskins because we are not oppressed. We did not grow up EVERY SINGLE DAY being oppressed by the views of another race. Whites do not know that feeling as a whole so when an ethnic group makes up a new name like white bread or cracker they never have the same effect. Because when you are in power these things roll off. They have no real meaning because no one has power over a white American. (Of course the Chinese may change this if we are not careful.) This is not to be confused with white people not understanding the pain and hurt of being poor, ugly, fat, different, not wearing the right clothes while attending school. There is a reason why our children bring guns to school. We do not listen to them either.
I cannot answer all of Monica’s laments and cannot speak for all white people. But I hear her and can speak of what I know.
I am not under the illusion that there were magic Indians before we colonized. I’m not sure that women held an equal standing or that there was no child abuse in ANY of the over 500 tribes. But I have little doubt that what the government did was a trillion times worse than anything Indians had experienced. Nothing is fair in life…maybe in the future generations but not now and not in the past.
It will serve no purpose waiting for things to be fair. You will wait a long time and suffer a lifetime of disappointments. I know this from personal experience. I have not lowered my expectations or convictions of right and wrong they are much stronger now that I have given up any expectations of the whole becoming how I think it should be in an ideal world. I can only be responsible for my beliefs and actions.
My perception is that Indians do not understand the fundamentals of why things are the way they are. Why white people are the way they are. Like us they are struggling to survive the carnage we inflict. I think the horror stories I hear about reservations is just a mirror being held up to us and we are afraid to look. If we have murdered, abused, tortured, and otherwise denegrated Indians it is because that is how we treat each other. In a broad overview it is our self image we have lost everything and it hurts. There is a hole that we cannot fill and most of ous are afraid to look at that hole. We will do ANYTHING to avoid looking in that hole. There is no scarier place for a white person than the hole that we imagine to have been abandoned by God. We wander, pillage, build churches, eat, fuck, explore, drink, work, accumulate more and more and more and more. Work and work and work and work so we can buy more and more and more.
WE ARE ADDICTED TO FEEDING OURSELVES….
MORE AND MORE..
ONE ADDICTION IS REPLACED BY ANOTHER
SUGAR, CIGARETTES, BOOKS, SHOES, FOOD, CLOTHES.
WE WANT TO DEVOUR THE WORLD
CUT DOWN THE TREES
WE WANT THE STARS IN THE SKY
THE DIAMONDS IN THE EARTH
THE BIGGEST HOUSE
THE MOST CARS…
TV, MAGAZINES, NEWSPAPERS,INTERNET
POLITICS
MORE MORE MORE
GOSSIP
PERFUME, PLASTIC SURGERY
OBESITY, STARVATION
IT IS ALL THE SAME.
WE DON’T KNOW HOW TO BE ALONE WITH OURSELVES.
IF WE ARE THE HOLE WILL CONSUME US
IF WE LOOK AT INDIANS
WITHOUT
FOG, DREAMCATCHERS, PAINT AND FEATHERS
WE MAY
CATCH A GLIMPSE
OF WHO WE ARE.
AND WHAT WE HAVE DONE.
It is worse for men our gunslingers are now economists and financial advisers…their horses are desks and their six shooters are computer keyboards the open range is reduced to taking their wives to St.Croix once a year. There are a very few who have honesty and integrity the majority continue the tradition of robbing and pillaging. Notice how many are so afraid of the black hole that their identity was replaced by $$$$$$. The collapse has taken their $$$$ and no longer can they imagine their life is worth living. ALL they ever were was the $$$$$ they made.
THEY ARE CHOOSING TO OVER RIDE THE MOST BASIC HUMAN INSTINCT….SURVIVAL….LIFE HAS ABSOLUTELY NO WORTH. NONE…WITHOUT THEIR ACCUMULATION OF MONEY AND NOW THEY ARE KILLING THEM SELVES.
That is fucked up. That is who we allow to run our country. That is who we allow to make our laws (most of which are to our detriment). THAT IS WHO WE ALLOW TO DIVIDE US. THAT IS WHO WE FEAR.
We are afraid of people, we make god,s more powerful than the true God that resides within us of people who are so weak, afraid and powerless that they kill them selves at the slightest test of the castle they have surrounded themselves with.
I have a lot more to tell Monica Charles and I hope she hears me as I hear her. For those of you who are concerned with my well being I do not get my self worth from Monica Charles..and I do not mean that as an insult or slight. Literally I get that from God. I have been looking at that big black hole for a few years and while it is still dark and quite large occasionally a light shines and and that light is the ONLY thing I give a damn about when it comes to my self-steem, self-worth, and self-love. Monica Charles is not my God….which I hope will be a relief to her…those would be mighty big shoes to fill and a burden if you ask me. I have had people put me on THAT pedestal before and I failed them miserably. I just like her for herself.
PUTTING MONICA CHARLES ON THE SPOT….AN INVITATION
I have been brave and have viewed Google alt.native a few times….First of all I would like to thank the members of that group and of course ALL of my readers for viewing my blog. ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST is a work in progress and yesterday I received a book on how to use WordPress to make the blog even better. I am grateful for all of the traffic but truthfully I would be writing everyday I was able to if I was the only one viewing it.
My mother was visiting over the holidays and every morning I used to write diatribes, prayers and other nonsense to God in an attempt to keep things moving along in my head. Well when my mother was here she would literally stand in back of me and read what I was writing….so I sort of toned it down….then I just stopped writing because it was annoying. After she left I thought I would start writing every morning again but I couldn’t get back into it. Then one morning I woke up with the thought start a blog. And I did. It took me about 3 hours to set it up and write my first post. While I had been meaning to put up a website for my artwork that had a secondary blog like all artists do this has taken off..probably because I CAN’T SHUT UP! There have been moments when I worried that I had nothing to say…like that would ever last for any length of time!
My first opinion of alt.native is that I’m not an Indian and I have no idea what the hell everyone is arguing about and that I should RUN LIKE HELL.
Monica Charles has only influenced me to write about Indian issues in a positive way. She does not speak for me nor I for her. She along with Peter Webster and Mark McKinney gave me suggestions or hints that there was another side to the whole Anna Mae Aquash story.
I do not believe that Monica was taking credit for having “awakened” me when she posted GARDENS IN THE DUNES.
The fact is I “discovered” Indian writers through a Sherman Alexie book I bought for one of my nephews.
My ALL ABOUT ME!!! page describes how I started awakening to the land about 10 years ago.
When Monica e-mailed me information she specifically added that I should do nothing for her, or because of her and that I should in no way be influenced by her opinions. I e-mailed her back that she had no worries as I do not lack in my own opinions and that the only person I felt obligated to was my mother! She also apologized if I was offended by alt.native…I wasn’t…I just feel it needs a moderator as I am the moderator of my blog.
She has certainly been tolerant and patient with my pestering!! I have even stated that the Anna Mae Aquash mystery is a mess….and that I will not express comments on the case for awhile. And I have posted views on both sides! She has at no time become upset with me. But then again maybe if I had posted that I thought she was full of shit and that I know the FBI and the U.S. GOVERNMENT to be kind and loving with the American Indians best interests at heart…that the ONLY goal the FBI has where Anna Mae Aquash is concerned is the truth (once again have any of the FBI agents involved been subjected to lie detectors?)she may not be as kind. How do Jewish people feel when confronted with people who hold the opinion that the Jewish Holocaust never happened? How do African Americans feel when white people say they are lucky we brought them over on slave ships?
Where is the voice of the Indians??? I have SIRIUS RADIO and the only time I have heard an American Indian on it was when Mark Thompson of MAKE IT PLAIN had one on Columbus Day I think it was. Mark Thompson who is African American is even aware that there is much more racism against American Indians than there is African Americans.
I have seen the book AMERICAN INDIAN MAFIA (attempt at guilt by association…Mafia is strictly Italian.) and this is NOT rocket science… without AIM (and I am sure that AIM has made lots of mistakes as all movements do) the amount of white people aware of Indian affairs would be a whole lot less. And white people run this government and when it comes to Indians they have a less than stellar track record.
Monica Charles is probably one of the most interesting people I have never met. If I first imagined her to be a young woman I now imagine her to be a warrior who has given it her all….and seen little rewards. Maybe she has won some personal battles but the overall state of Indian issues has probably not seen much success. Mainstream America thinks that every tribe has a successful casino that doesn’t pay taxes plus those leeches LIVING OFF OF MY TAX DOLLARS (read the comments on that post and see how far Indians have come…I’m not Indian and it HURTS) There was a moment when AIM had a voice and it looked as though Indians would start making great strides towards being recognized as human beings. The United States all but silenced them as they silenced MLK. Yes, Indians have Sherman Alexie but if it weren’t for his sense of humor to soften the blow I don’t think that white people would be so enamored with him. I sort of doubt that mainstream America has even heard of Sherman Alexie.
Maybe I’m wrong but I think the whole Anna Mae Aquash thing means much more to Monica Charles than she is currently writing about. Putting her on the spot I think that it is way more personal to her than those who were not at Wounded Knee could possibly imagine. Monica must have known Anna Mae Aquash personally after all weren’t they holed up in some church? She couldn’t have been that old….surrounded by FBI agents…not knowing if you were going to live another day…I looked at her website DAUGHTER OF TSE WHIT ZEN but nothing she wrote about the whole affair was personal. She has another website THE DREAMERS JOURNEY it is haunting and beautiful..but I wondered why she had not written her life story….it would certainly be more interesting than MY life!
Like any great warrior she has been fighting for so long and hard I think she hasn’t been taking care of herself..has forgotten to rest and put herself first once in awhile. So comes the invitation to Monica Charles: I would love to hear about YOUR experiences you have a voice here and of course I would post anything you wrote for your own blog DAUGHER OF TSE WHIT ZEN. What was it like being at Wounded Knee? Hearing the bullets and bullhorns? What sort of encounters did you have with Anna Mae? Did the Indian women start to fight each other over men the way most white women would do? Was everyone united? I vaguely remember Russel Means writing about problems with women getting beaten up?? How does it FEEL to still be fighting for the truth of Anna Mae Aquash’s murder AFTER DECADES. Where do you find the strength to keep it up?? Indian or not, women in general have less of a voice than men are taken less seriously than men. Why do so many AIM men have autobiographies where is the voice of the Indian woman? Or am I overlooking it???
Sorry I am such a pest and please feel free to ignore me as I may be bringing up things that are unpleasant, unimportant or even just plain wrong.
BTW while I was writing this post the mailman brought LOUD HAWK and THE UNQUIET GRAVE….
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