Short and Wide, Beige and Aged

             To look at me, you probably wouldn’t first jump to:

Mexican, Irish, Native American.

             Your immediate reaction might be:

old, fat, that’s a strange assortment of garments she has on/that’s alotta tattoos.

             While it is true that I now mostly dress in such a way as to be confused for Queen Victoria-after-Albert-died, this has not always been the case.

             I can never claim fashion, but I will take credit for a certain eclectic style.  And it’s that individuality which has come to my attention recently.

             To be “normal” has never been my goal.  Down that road was bland averageness.  Around that corner only dull indistinctness could be found.

             During this current political climate, it is in our best interest to remain aware, while also holding on to our compassion.  The Universe would like us to make sure we are taking notice of

Representation.

             No one, including the first people, originated here.  The proto-humans came from somewhere else.  To claim ownership of the land is wrong, on all levels.  To claim “better than” when discussing people cannot even be considered.  The immorality of it must be addressed, until it is gone.

             My mother was born in California, as were her ancestors.  We can trace them back farther than the age of the state, farther back than the age of this country.  My dad’s mom has lineage reaching out across the prairies and plains, older than America, older than our (racist) founding fathers.

             My father’s father’s people left Ireland when there wasn’t enough food, arriving on the shores of New York, not at all welcomed, but tolerated for the labor they could provide.  They took (were forced into?) jobs nobody else wanted.  Just as so many of my family members did, for generations upon generations.

             I come from people who struggled, who were oppressed.  My poverty is part of my lineage.  I am a blend of hardship and sorrow.  You look at me now, though, and all that anyone sees is age, and size.

             At every opportunity, I tell my story.  I share my mixed heritage.  I wear my inked skin proudly, so all who cross my path can see the history we are now living.  I am representing my past, my people, all of the families and the workers and the individuals who came before me.

             When we sit quietly, we can often get overlooked.  When we show up, stand tall, call out in loud voices, we are more easily noticed.  I want to be noticed.  I want strangers to ask who my people are.  I want to be understood for who I came from, and what they suffered.

                         The stories of our past are important in our present.  We are in this together, shouldn’t we share knowledge? Shouldn’t we rejoice as we move ahead into a place of acceptance, a future we can look forward to?

             Let’s be proud of who we are.  Representing honestly, that’s how we help, that’s how we make a difference.

 

 

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How We See Differently.

  Remember my annoyance about that huge moving van blocking the road a few weeks back?  And seeing a Texas car parked there later?  Well, guess what.  They are moving, again.  Today there was a smaller self-moving vehicle parked in front of that house.  It appears that they didn’t like my neighborhood.  Hmm, best wishes, wherever they land.

   And you know how we’ve discussed the fact that the only way a car with a Hawaii license plate can get here is by being shipped on a barge?  Well, earlier in the afternoon I drove past an enormous pick-up truck, with Hawaii plates.  I have spent many summers on the islands, and even WAY back then, gas was super expensive, I’m sure it hasn’t gone DOWN in price.  One, why the hell would this person even purchase a vehicle like this over there?  And B, how much money do they have that they could ship it here?!

    Coming home from the pool, I drive through some areas that are quite eclectic, homes from many different eras and time frames.  Tonight I was tootling along and saw a license plate I didn’t recognize (so obviously I pulled over to see it better).   It was a ratty-assed old van, with tie-dyed curtains in the back windows, parked in front of an incredibly tidy ranch-style built in the 1950’s or so.  South Dakota.  Just a day of questions and stories I’d love to hear.

    Since we have a few decks in our regular rotation that I, either haven’t looked at in years, or don’t have a ton of experience with, I thought I’d do some reasearch.  This Celtic Shaman’s Pack is really fascinating.  The folks who wrote the book about it have written previous volumes on this topic.  And it’s pretty cool what they found out about the history of this belief system.

    They do not call it a religion because they say anyone can use this knowledge, without conflict of what their base beliefs are.   They don’t delve too deeply into this spiritual discipline here, but they do talk about the legacy left by the Celtic shamans and how they were traditionally linked to their ancestors and their natural world.  I really like that, and thought about what Fokker had said recently, being a Christian Witch.  I am truly grateful that she can be that, to live in a world where it’s comfortable for her, and for us, to honor this title.  (And ya know, that neither of us is going to get burnt at the stake.  Again.)

    I have talked about this before, how when someone is drawn to a path, or an animal, or a deck of cards, or any specific focus, it is their connection to past lives, and in the case of the couple who wrote about the Celtic Shamans, to ancestors as well.  When you get a call like that, it seriously needs to be answered.

   “The Seeress (Feldelm)  ~  prophecy.  A cloak draped female figure stands watching the spirits who surround her.  Between her hands is a golden spindle.

   She captures the vision of both past and future, seeing how the threads of the web of creation are spun and where each person stands upon them.  Her visionary powers are remarkable and she can advise on the best course of action in any given situation.  Her web is woven of the threads of destiny and she gives prophetic information by way of the inspired oracle.

Journey ~ You are walking on a broad and well trodden highway which winds between level green land.  In the distance there is a swirling cloud which, as it approaches, gives way to reveal a chariot drawn by dusky black horses.  In the chariot rides the woman whose description you have just read.  She pulls her proud steeds to a halt before you and leans down to regard you with bright, deep-seeing eyes.  You may ask her to reveal something of the future to you – always remembering that the tides of fate may change at any moment, now or in the days to come.”