Sunday, December 18, 2011

Change Your Own Damn Oil!

Anyone else ever realize something and then realize everyone else already knows that? Somehow you managed to go through your whole life, oblivious to what appears obvious. Happens to me all the time. My presumption is, because I have been alone most of my life, with little to no, mostly no, parental or maternal guidance, I missed out on a whole lot of things most folks simply take for granted. With no elders to instruct or grandparents with the wisdom of years to share, I have been left to my own devices, trying to make sense of things apparently known to the rest of my cognitive species. Makes me wonder how I have made it to almost 50. Then I look around me and realize I'm not the only one. There are many more exactly like myself. Millions of us, clueless, bumbling through this existence, zero guidance offered or even available. I'm amazed we haven’t blown up the factory yet.

My mind being what it is, I simply cant just leave something alone. If something makes no sense, you can guarantee I will regurgitate it until it does. Or at least make sense to me. Never could simply accept anything. So what if it quacks like a duck, walks like a duck? Doesn’t mean its a duck. Might be a platypus. Rest assured, I will reach deep into that fount of unknowing and drag it to the surface, all wet and wiggling, and shake it and poke it until I'm damn sure its a duck. Or a platypus. I have this annoying tendency to use my head for something besides a hat rack. I admit, thinking for myself has landed me in the soup more than once. But I feel so much better about myself when I do. Yes, that was heavy sarcasm.

So here is one that has been slapping around in my cranium for a few decades. I've heard it numerous times, from thousands of sources, and it hasn’t added up. A medicine person, or a holy person, will never tell you they are. Will never admit to it. Okay, why? The common answer given is humility. The prevailing understanding that to hang a title on oneself immediately nullifies the position. Okay, that makes sense. Sort of. However, isn’t that redundant? If an individual is chosen to live such a responsibility, wouldn’t they first have to prove they are a humble person? How could an arrogant, self involved individual be tapped to fulfill such a demanding role? Granted, this makes the assumption that a) there is something more than what can be physically quantified and b) that something has a vested interest. Therefore, if that something does exist, and does have an interest, would that something not look for those who could live a humble existence, not interested in fame, fortune, titles and notoriety? Yes, there are many, especially today, who claim to be. However, even a cursory glance proves they are completely full of shit. Their claims are nothing more than delusions of grandeur; usually attempts at being what they wish they were, due mostly to lack of confidence and self esteem.

When you think about it, something doesn’t add up. Why wouldn’t someone admit to it, if they were? Not referring to those who think they are, but the real ones. It seems such a beautiful way to be. Granted, they aren’t broadcasting it to the high heavens, but if asked, why not smile a beatific smile and nod, exuding a knowing instantly perceived as true? A life spent in service to all of existence, giving completely of themselves, a life of total self sacrifice and altruism? Why are the real ones so damn surly? Whats with the cranky, go away you're annoying me attitude? Having traveled extensively, I have had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting a few real ones. By and large, they're assholes. Don’t get me wrong, they are great people. Warm, loving, caring, compassionate. Beautiful people really. But assholes. At the same time. Especially when it gets around to them doing what they do. What gives here? I come to you, supplicating, needing what you have been gifted, and you’re treating me like something you scraped off your shoe? The math makes no sense.

Well, try this on for size. You have a need, they have a way for that need to be satisfied. A healing, knowledge, direction. Whatever. But, for everything taken, something must be given. If nothing else, balance prevails. That law appears to be universal. I've seen it everywhere, in every situation. Regardless of where I have been or am, regardless the situation. Balance is always reasserting itself. The one unequivocal, undeniable truth. With that said, there then must be balance here to. When that logic is applied, things begin to make a little more sense. You need fixing. They can help. However, someone has to take it in the teeth. In other words, there is an ass whipping due. You are going to get the good stuff. They get the ass whipping. For you. Balance. You think after thirty or forty years they might get a little cranky? You think they might get a tad bit surly when someone brings a problem about as serious as a broken fingernail? Waaaa, I got a boo-boo. What? They are supposed to take an ass whipping for something you could fix your damn self if you just got off your ass and did it?

Look at it this way. Somebody you know is a pretty good mechanic. Doesn’t work as a mechanic, but they are as good, most of the time better, than anyone certified at the local dealership. However, they don’t tell anyone. Why? Because if they did everyone would be beating on their door, asking them to fix their car. For free. Eventually, that shits going to get annoying as hell. Even more so when its something simple, like changing the oil. Anyone can do it. Most are too damn lazy. With that box of crayons, now the platypus is starting to look like a duck. Here is someone who can assist you, will assist you, but dammit make it something serious, okay? Otherwise, change your own damn oil.

Most understand the person cant do a damn thing. They are just a person. However, that something that has a vested interest can. Modern science is always trying to figure out how things like cancer, diabetes even aids can be cured in traditional ceremonies. What they never realized is it isn’t the ceremony, or the individual presiding over it. What is curing the incurable is that something. That intangible unknowing. The individual presiding is only a conduit. That individual is all too aware of that fact, and just as aware there is going to be a price to pay. Just as aware they aren’t going to get paid. When the bill comes due its their ass. For me, that puts things into a whole new perspective.

If you need, go. There are real ones. Good luck finding them. Even better luck dealing with them. Or being dealt with by them. Remember what it is going to cost them to help you. If it is something you can do on your own, do it. If not, think long and hard before asking. Contemplate deeply on what it is going to cost. Not you, them. What are you asking them to suffer, all on your behalf? Are you so willing to put someone through that much pain? This rant isn’t to keep anyone away from those who are real. Quite the opposite actually. The idea here is for you to come to a better understanding the consequences. In this push button, give it to me now society, the consequences of our actions are rarely, if ever, considered. So yes, go. But, remember what you are going to put them through. Maybe it isn’t too much to offer a bit of tobacco, a little food, hell even a thank you. That is, of course, if you don’t have a hold of a platypus.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Welcome to your Meat Suit

Some time has passed since I last wrote. Much has happened in that time. Some good, some ugly, but that’s life, isn’t it? Regardless how beautiful the field, go far enough and eventually you will step in a pile of crap. This leaves you with two choices. Rant and rave, pissed off over something you never had control of in the first place or scrape off the poo and move on. If you're fortunate, maybe you will find a creek to rest beside, washing off the remnants, to where your misadventure becomes nothing more than a bad memory. In time, that too will fade.

On and on we go, traversing valleys and precipices, on this journey called life. One certainty presides over us all. No one gets out alive. From my perspective, that's a good thing. Seventy or so years of this is enough. Immortality would be a curse. A never ending cycle of highs and lows, with time inexorably speeding up each year. By two hundred it would seem each day was passing in a blink. Enough to drive anyone mad. A great movie I watched on this subject, “The Man From Earth”. Well worth the watch if you have the time. Some believe death to be the bane of human existence. As though it is something to be feared. I see death as the ultimate gift. A gift to be welcomed, and looked forward to. Not to infer I am suicidal. I deeply appreciate this gift of life, and the privilege to experience reality in this form. However, I do look forward to it ending.

It has always been my understanding what you do today is what matters. Living life remembering life allows a person to stagnate. Stuck in the past, reliving traumas that never healed. Never becoming all one was created to be. One thing I have learned, the past lives only if you continue to feed it. Remembering the torments and tormentors, giving them status and presence, as though they remain in existence. Reanimated corpses of long dead agony. Ethereal ghosts of the mind. To exorcise these demons is the simplest of processes. Let them go. Yet many define their existence by these events. Missing the experience of being human by allowing an experience while being human to contain them. No one said this was going to be easy. If it were anyone could do it.

Some live their lives imagining their lives. Dreaming of what they may become. Never fully realizing who they are. So caught up in the dream of what they may yet one day achieve. Struggling so hard to be more, to have more. To become something they do not need to be to impress those they don’t want to be. All the while their lives pass them by. Moments like drops of rain, washing away each experience squandered. Interestingly, they never seem to get there. That far off horizon never reached. Until that final moment, when its time to go, realizing all that was missed. Too late to turn back.

One other option I have witnessed are those whose lack of self esteem and sense of self drives them to live their imagination. Before the advent of the internet, this was a rare occurrence, and typically society at large noticed these individuals and gave them a comfy place to live, complete with padded walls and nice people in white coats to care for them. An existence perpetually medicated, unquestionably deluded. “I'm Napoleon!” Of course you are. If you will step this way we have just the place for you to conquer.

Now exists all the tools necessary to become anything one can imagine. To create for themselves an entirely new persona, history and even physical appearance. Some go so far as to actually believe their imaginations, and then transfer that imagination to the real world. Living life so deluded they forget who they really are. Demanding the populace at large accept them as what they imagine themselves to be. So caught up in their fantasy they have given their fantasy life, fully expecting all to accept their fantasy as well. Dr. Frankenstein would be in awe of the monsters some have created.

Some of the more absurd I have seen are those who proclaim themselves Native American. Really? Look at yourself. Look at true First Nations People. Do they look like you? In any way? The color of their hair and eyes, shape of nose, mouth and face. Does anything of their countenance look anything like yours? It is one thing to be genetically Native. To be a descendant of the First Nations People. Hell, after 500 years or so of European occupation, mix marriages and of course all the Cherokees who traveled the continent banging everyone’s great grandmother, I expect most everyone who can trace their linage back a few generations will find an Indian in the woodpile. That however, does not make you “Native American”. There is a vast difference between being genetically Native, and being culturally Native. If I have to explain the difference, you would never understand it. Nor would you accept it. It is astounding the lengths some will go to in order to defend their delusion. In my travels I have heard the most outlandish of stories used to defend pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. I cannot tell you how many times I have had someone stand before me, so obviously of English, Irish, French, Scandinavian and Asian descent, demand I accept their ludicrous lamentations of being Native American. Fools like this may as well don a pirate costume and exclaim arrgh! all day. You look as foolish, and yes, everyone is laughing at you. Do you get how ridiculous you sound when you walk into a room, blonde hair and blue eyes, and make the declaration of being “Native American?” You really are embarrassing yourself. And providing comic relief to some of the more cynical, like myself.

Riddle me this, oh special one...what the hell is so wrong with being who you are? If you're white, be proud to be white. Or black or yellow or purple with green polka dots for that damn matter. There are two species of human, with four subgroups in each species. Be proud of you. Obviously, if you have a belief in a higher power, that higher power made you what you are. Therefore, are you so petulant, arrogant and pretentious to inform that higher power it was wrong? Doesn’t that mind set immediately nullify your higher power? How can it be a higher power if it is fallible? Isn’t the concept of infallibility indicative of a higher power? Or is that to logical and I, along with the rest of the world, am supposed to believe you were Pocahontas in a former life, you're immortal and are simply continuing your existence?

Most existing in their pit of self delusion are harmless. Well, maybe to themselves and a few in their families, but to the world at large they have little to no effect. Others however cause irreparable damage. Certainly those who portray themselves as Native American teachers and leaders. Accepting and initiating invitations from those who know no better in order for them to pontificate their delusions. South Park recently aired an episode. I liked to have passed out laughing when introduced as a Native American in walked the stereotypical white guy with a headband. Watch the episode, then look at the fool you invited to teach the children all about Indians. Sound familiar? The last woman I dated actually pulled out a book about Frank Fools Crow and proceeded to inform me, based on her perception that book was an instruction manual, on how I am supposed to conduct myself. The incredulous look on my face should have been enough. The real nut buster? She was a mental health professional! Let that sink in a moment, I'll wait.

OK, on we go. Still with me? Good. You know who is real good at playing Indian? Indians. When all you have to feed your family is the knowledge of culture, many see that knowledge as a commodity. And there are thousands upon thousands oh so willing to buy. Leave the rez, become a God. Or stay on the rez, because every year there will be a new crop of the urban confused more than willing to open their wallets and dispense every dime they don’t have for all that spiritual knowledge. Many know there is no substance to what they are buying, yet they continue to support it for fear of not having it. Even if it is hollow and empty, convinced its acceptable. Watching as women are abused, children broken, their men emasculated. Accepting what they know is blatantly wrong because the individual they are deifying has claimed to be a medicine person, head man of a non existent society they made up in their minds or some other foolish nonsense. These individuals know all the right words, can imitate all the right gestures. Some have even convinced themselves they are what they pretend to be. On and on it continues, eroding the very fabric of the culture they are selling, until all that exists is a facade of what once was.

A true Holy Person would never reveal themselves today. This society, those so convinced of what is or isn’t, would crucify them. Many times I have witnessed the Sacred reveal itself. Sad to say, I have had the unfortunate displeasure of watching as the Sacred was used to defile the Sacred. Like petulant children, “I didn’t want that color!” This circle attacking that circle. One claiming to be, while denigrating the next. If Christ himself walked through the door most would put a bullet in him. And exactly like children at Christmas, so busy playing with the box they ignore what was in it.

Here is how this works. The person chosen is the box. Chosen, not those who choose for themselves. They are the receptacle the power is housed in. They are simply a human, like anyone else. No magic powers, no special gifts. Just a person, acting the fool, being human. Until ceremony. Then the human steps aside, the box is opened and out comes the gift. The power. These unfortunate few are exceptionally difficult to find. Living a life of abject poverty, in constant misery and sadness. Knowing their lives are no longer theirs to live. Understanding as much as they are capable that they are now nothing more than a box. Waiting for someone to come and open them. Only to return to a life of torturous loneliness. But wait mr. hawk, that’s not how the books and movies portray it. Its all love and light, warm and fuzzy, with group hugs and effusive accolades. Everyone gets a trophy. If you will indulge me a second? Please return to a previous exercise. Find a mirror, look deeply into your eyes. Now, tell yourself, “I am an idiot.” Rinse and repeat as necessary until comprehension dawns.

True healing hurts. A lot. Any medical professional will tell you, and I am certain you have heard at least once, it has to hurt before it gets better. Do you honestly think it is any easier spiritually then it is physically? Traumas that have existed for 20 or 30 years, being forcefully ripped out of you. Nothing about that suggests warm and fuzzy, unless of course your into that sort of thing.

I guess the point to this rant is be you. Whatever you were created to be. Obviously, there is a point to you, or you wouldn’t exist. Yes, you are a little snowflake, unlike any other snowflake that has been or ever will be. In all of time, that ever existed or ever will exist, there is and only ever will be, one you. How freaking cool is that? So why in all that is sacred would you want to be someone or something else. That robe you wear, the flesh, your meat suit, its the only one. Okay, so it isn’t perfect. It has flaws and discrepancies. But then, isn’t it supposed to? If you believe you were created, not hatched, then you were created to be exactly what you are. What happened, happened. Use it for beauty, instead of wallowing in it and emanating the ugliness of it. Find a way to turn ugly into beauty. Don’t worry so much about what you might be. Hell, you probably wont ever become it, and if you did you probably wont like it. You were made to be exactly what you appear to be. Yes, we all want to be more. But more shouldn’t be different. More should be better. So ask yourself, is what you are better?

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Water Balloons

So, here is one for you. Many times I have folks come to me. Tell me the goofiest crap. Many come and tell me all they know about everything, and want to instruct me on all they know. As if I'm a dumb ass and I should fall all over myself because this numbnuts standing in front of me chose to impart upon me their great and celestial wisdom. Yeah, right. Up until a few years ago they were hanging out in the bars raising hell and not giving a damn about anything spiritual. One day they woke up, started learning and less than five years later, they got it all. Well, ain’t that special? Personally I don’t ever want to be that special. Sounds like way too much responsibility to me.

Basically what they are saying is they have learned it all. Applying this push button self service give it to me now way of life most exist in today to a spiritual understanding. One day they woke up and ta da! Instant enlightenment. Some folks are just out of their ever loving minds. Does anyone think for one second anyone could handle that comprehension immediately? Imagine your mind as a 2 liter pop bottle. Now instantly fill it with all the water in the oceans. What do you think is going to happen to that bottle? Yep, it would explode. And so would your mind. Pop like a water balloon. Remember when we were kids, filling balloons with water? We had to get the pressure just right. Invariably we always broke one or two, filling them too fast or too much. Slowly, just a trickle, until enough water had created the perfect bomb to drop off a second story window on some unsuspecting childhood companion. This is spiritual understanding. You are the balloon.

Another side of this is I hear how folks want to see things. Come into lodges and ceremonies, desperately seeking to see. Did you forget about the other 4 senses? Sometimes you will see Them. Maybe you will smell them, taste them (that one is always weird), hear them, feel them. We have a tendency to expect Them to do what we want. Come in a way we want. Ha, like that is ever going to happen. They come Their way. Our responsibility is to put away our preconceptions and let Them show us. That's a tough one for many.

Into this conversation, lets insert Elders. Folks who “woke up” in their 30's or 40's and are now in their 80's and 90's. They have had many years to let that trickle of understanding fill them to the right consistency and volume. Now they can be dropped on some unsuspecting fool, exploding understanding all over them. Years they have spent, learning to perceive Them as They chose to show Themselves. Through sight, touch, taste (still weird), sound, smell.

Into all of this stew of course is religion. The word of itself makes me hack. A few special folks, organizing spiritual understanding into a dogmatic form, telling everyone how it is and how they should do it. Really? Don’t think so. That perception has of course tainted traditional understanding as well. Many times I've had folks tell me so and so is a medicine person and I have to do what they tell me. According to this “medicine person”, Creator came to them and told them to tell me I had to do this, that and the other. Huh. Why did Creator tell them? Why not tell me? Regardless of how thick headed I might be, I'm sure an entity older than time itself can come up with some way of getting my attention. It would seem to me the Elders, the true Medicine People, their responsibility is to guide me in what was shown to me. Assist me in completing the task asked of me. Not standing there telling me what I have to do.

See, I'm not much good at following other folks. When someones steps up and says God told me to tell you, I'm immediately skeptical. So, God told you huh? Prove it. If this person is what they say they are, that shouldn't be a problem. If God gave them the ability to hear what the rest of us can't, I'm sure God gave them the ability to prove it. Are they so much better than the rest of us only they can hear God? Remember, your experiences made you who you are. Their experiences made them who they are. You aren’t them, they aren’t you and I’m pretty sure you both see the picture differently. Unless they can spread wings and fly or do something just as dramatic, it would seem they are just a person, like anyone else. Therefore, if they are just another human like the rest of us, where do they get off telling us what God said? Sounds like an ego trip to me.

Remember, its only a trickle. Just a little water, filling up the balloon that is your mind. None of us can handle instant understanding. Your head would explode. Just because someone says they are something doesn’t necessarily mean they are. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. Simply because a person tells you to do something doesn’t mean you have to do it. If God, Creator, Tunk'sila, what ever name you choose to apply to that entity wants you to do something, I'm pretty sure that entity will find a way to tell you. I don’t think that entity has to go to another person to go to you. Why would there need to be a middleman?

Trick is, after They come to you, tell you something, now what the hell do you do? Too many idiots out there who think they are what they ain’t. Now your left with a revelation, and no clue as to what to do with it. Unfortunately, there aren’t many true Elders and Medicine People who can guide you, assist you, in what you need to do. Here is a suggestion. Bring it to who you think you should. If that person gives you some long drawn out flowery explanation, don’t do it. What you need is the one who sits there and when you ask them what you are supposed to do, their response is they don’t know. When they say lets take it into ceremony and see what They have to say about it, you're probably talking to the right person. About the only way I have seen where it works out. Then it isn’t the person telling you what to do, its Them. The other side, who spoke to you in the first place. Makes more sense to get it straight from the source than through another human. But, it is each individuals choice. Guess there are folks too afraid to do it themselves, they have to have someone tell them how to do it. Of course, there are those who think of themselves so highly they need folks who are afraid, so they can tell them what to do and feel superior. The only thing that scares me is Them. That and humans who think they are special.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Faith...Now There Is A Thought.....

I have been living this life for many years now. Been too many places to count. Seen so many faces they are beginning to blur. Six of one, half dozen of another, all and all it has been one hell of a ride. They came for me at 11, and my life hasn’t been the same since. Not that I'm bitching mind you. But I do often wonder who I would be, what I would be doing, if They hadn’t. So many interests come and gone. So many different directions that could have been. Regardless, this is what They want, and I accept it, gladly. Kicking and screaming at times, but I guess that is to be expected. They never said it would be easy. As a matter of fact, They specifically said it would be difficult. Very, very difficult. I give thanks for that, for the pain and suffering. The privilege to live this way. Grateful for all given, never asking for a damn thing. I live in my faith. It defines me, makes me who and what I am.

Faith. Easy to talk about. A son of a bitch to live. Faith is one of those things that either is or isn’t. There is no gray. Totally black and white. Either you have faith or you don’t. Either you believe, or you don’t. Not a little, not “well, maybe this piece but not that one.” With faith its all or nothing. Took me many years to get that. I can now say my faith is unshakeable. I give credit to Them for everything. When I lose something, need help with something, have a “sudden” understanding. First thing, I thank Them. I know it came from Them, not me. I ain’t that clever.

This is where I get confused. I see many of my Relatives, who profess faith, yet lack the ability, the initiative or the comprehension to live it. Some don’t live their faith because of fear. Which is one hell of a contradiction. If you believe what is there to fear? Many confuse organized religious practices with spiritual beliefs. That one stupefies me regularly. What the hell? Okay, so someone says they are spiritual, but everything they do is religious. Doesn’t make sense to me. So many are seeking, looking for the direction. So many have found the church, synagogue, temple to be empty. What they need to fill that void simply isn’t there. Duh. Its a building built by men, controlled by men. Of course its empty and hollow. How can anyone find anything more than an echo in an empty building? Usually it turns into a fashion show, or an ego fest. Some figure that out, and turn to the original instructions. The traditional ways of being. Unfortunately they bring all their religious bad habits with them.

Take instructions for example. Eventually you find yourself at a place, with someone who is supposed to be a Leader or Medicine Person. Let me tell you now, there are very, very few real ones walking this rock. Most who say they are with no doubt are absolutely full of shit. The majority of those few that could be are predators. Yeah, I said it. Too many who could be have forgotten what was given was given for the People, not the person. Feeding off those who are starving for some direction, some understanding. Every year its a new crop of the urban confused, wallet in hand looking for the fast track to enlightenment. Freaking depressing. I’ve seen it thousands of times. The conversation usually goes “so and so from such and such told me I had to a) dance for this many years b) go on the hill for this many days c) do this certain ceremony d) make this many prayer ties.” Every time it comes with a price tag. Always,eventually, their phone rings because so and so from such and such needs money. Huh. To me that speaks volumes.

Yes, the real medicine people live very pitiful, humble lives. They have nothing, because they give everything away. However, they always have what they need. Their faith sustains them and they don’t have to ask. For anything. When its needed, its provided. Every time. So that dispenses with the so and so from such and such needing money. If they needed it, and they actually are what they claim to be, it will be provided. Why would they have to ask? I don’t think They want them sitting in the casino wasting the cash you gave them.

The other side of that is the fact that so and so from such and such told you what you had to do. Wait a second, isn’t that person just that? A person. How the hell would they know? Isn’t that exactly like some preacher telling you what you have to do? If its something you are supposed to do, why wouldn’t They tell you? That is the spiritual understanding, isn’t it? That when you begin to live the original instructions, They will come to you, tell you what you need to know, need to do. Most are too anxious, too impatient, to wait and grow. Most want it now, immediately, today. Do you honestly think your mind could handle all that understanding right now? Your head would explode. Its a little at a time, piece by piece. Doing what you are told to by Them, building your faith. This is why it takes years. Why there are Elders.

That in no way discredits visions and dreams. Actually, that is the point. This is Them talking to you. This is Them instructing you. Not so and so from such and such. You being given what you need, as you need it. Then, you find a true interpreter. Someone who isn’t feeding their ego, isn’t feeding off the Relatives. In a sacred place, in a sacred manner. This is how you learn what to do with what was shown. Interpreting your own visions and dreams is a sure way to screw things up. You can't, simply because you will interpret it in a way that suits you. Your interpretation will be biased. You cant make it not biased. So you find someone who truly is, and leave you out of it. Those who really are will, in ceremony, speak with Them on your behalf. Those who are understand it isn’t the person. They leave the human out of it. The interpreter is the telephone and you are dialing them, calling the other side. What comes through are instructions for each individual. Unbiased. This is how you know what the dreams and visions meant. This is how you know what to do with the information. This is how you learn to live the original instructions.

Just because someone is from somewhere, or has a title or position doesn’t make them any more than anyone else. The idea is to make them less. Take everything you think you know and turn it upside down. Those who are true Leaders, Medicine People, they get that. They have nothing, but faith. Their faith is what sustains them, provides for them. They don’t have to ask you for anything. They simply live to serve, and in serving they live. They will be the first to tell you they don’t know. How the hell could they? They are a person, like you, like me, like anyone else. No individual can tell you. It has to come from the other side. It has to come from faith. Either you have it or you don’t. So, who are you listening to? A person, who you provide gambling money to? Or are you really listening to Them? Have you taken what was shown into ceremony? Come to an unbiased understanding? Are you doing what They told you to do, or what another human told you to do?

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Men & Women....What A Combination!

Male and female. Has there, is there, will there ever be anything more polar opposite of each other? Yet, at the same time, anything more compatible? Weird how that works. Or is supposed to work. The perfect balance, created by two becoming one. Neither inferior or superior. Together all that is becomes again all that ever was, ever could be. The advent of organized religion has been the catalyst for the destruction of that union. Simply my opinion. Doesn’t mean I'm wrong. Doesn’t mean I'm right. Just my opinion.

Where are the Grandmas who were able to teach women how to be women? Today we have Grandmas at 30. What could a 30 year old teach a 15 year old? She is still a child herself. It takes years, decades of life to learn wisdom and how to pass on that wisdom. In my travels I see many families. Some good, some bad, some absolutely pointless. Together to torture each other relentlessly. Surely, there must be more to life than that? So many settle for what they can get. Not waiting for the one who takes their breath away. Impatiently turning to the first who takes them away from their perceived horrible life only to enter into another version of the same damn thing.

What kicks me in the left one is women have forgotten how much power they wield. We look to our Mother, the Earth and the example she sets. All exists become of her compassion, generosity and love. With no prejudice or discrimination, our Mother provides for all. Never asking, never bullying. Her power is there. No explanation need be given. The obvious is blatantly apparent. Women are a microcosm of her. Each home, each marriage, each family a branch of the Tree of Life, sustained by each woman. She who gives life to us all.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe that is the problem. So many see so little, when the obvious is glaring. Women give life. Not just physical life but emotional life, spiritual life. Not aggressively, with force or abuse. Simply there, no question need be asked. Her power is all encompassing, giving life to her world. Her home, her family, her man. Without her, their world, all that is, wouldn’t exist. Yet I listen as so many say the most horrible of things about their home, even with the man who provides them all they need in the same room with them. Incredulously I watch, listen. Stupefied I see the beauty that surrounds them they are so blind to.

In all fairness, some women should be telling their man how bad things are. Men after all are simplistic creatures. To keep a man happy is the easiest of tasks. Feed us, have sex with us, be our friend. Do that and we will break ourselves in pieces to make you happy. Comes down to it, men are basically big dogs. Some women married poodles. Some chihuahua, some pit bulls. A few unlucky ones have found themselves a coy-dog. Nothing but a coyote pretending to be something else. A predator posing as a house pet. If that’s what you are living with, time to trade it in for a new model. Any man, and I repeat any man, who consciously, willing, hurts a woman, for any reason, deserves to have a hole stomped in him. There is never an excuse to physically or emotionally hurt a woman. That does not prove how much of a man you are. It proves exactly the opposite. Look deeply into the nearest mirror, and feel shame. Know shame, see shame, because you are shame. You disgust every real man who sees you.

I could go on for pages about the bad ones. God knows there are enough of them out there. Everyone does, so I'm going to go in a different direction. If you have a good man, who provides for you, your family, hang on with everything you have. He is giving you a home, food on the table, clothes for your children. He is a man who knows how to be a man. Gets out and gets it done. If the best you can do is bitch at him about how terrible life is, you may want to sit back and reevaluate things. Remember one thing, if you don’t want him, I promise one of your sisters does. She sees what he does for you. She is well aware of how good a man he is and is biding her time, waiting for the moment. She will take him, and the only one to blame is yourself. Find a good man, treat him like shit, run him off and then pat yourself on the back for a job well done. Seems something is a smidge bit off with that picture.

Many women were raised in these types of families. The circle perpetuating itself. Now you find yourself married to a lump on the couch who wont work if you gift wrapped a job and handed it to him. You may want to see about showing him the door. Its his job to provide. To ensure you have what you need, what your children need. Anyone working at any company doesn’t do their job, they get fired. If the best he can do is hurt you, take from you, feed off of you, well, fire his ass. Then go find a real man, a pit bull who doesn’t apologize for being a man. One who understands his responsibility and jumps out of bed everyday to meet it. Then do your job as a woman. Not because you feel like you have to. Because you want to. Together, working as one, creating again all that is. Amazing.

Remember, you are in complete control. As a woman, you have all the power. With great power comes great responsibility. Wield that power wisely. Look to our Mother to guide you. She will teach you all you need to know. Then, see the beauty that is all around you. Speak of that beauty to him. Let that man know you appreciate and are grateful to him for all he does for you. I promise, you live this way, the beauty will constantly replenish itself. Your world is in your hand. If you keep painting it with an ugly brush, it will remain ugly. Remember when you first saw each other? Remember the first time you looked into each others eyes? That warm rush that came over you? That feeling that took the breath from you, left you gasping for air? Remember the fist time you shared yourself with each other, and the moments afterward? Do you remember what love felt like? Do you remember all she was willing to give? All he was willing to do? Find that again. As a woman, you have the power to recreate that love again. Make that love live again. Like our Mother, with quiet strength. Compassionately, gently, determined. Love is in your hands. Allow love to blossom, to fill your life again with beauty. With a man who understand what it means to be a man. Not some 40 year old boy who spends his days playing video games and nights getting drunk with his buddies only to use you as an orifice or a punching bag. That’s the fool you throw out the door. Put his crap on the porch and tell him don’t come back until you grow the hell up. All is in the hands of a woman. All is created or destroyed by a woman. With all that power, what world have you created?

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Dust Off Your Fairy Wings!

Well, let the twinkie fest begin. As I suspected, it wouldn’t be long before the idiots, dumb asses and flying ass monkeys stepped up to prove, with no question, exactly how lost they really are. The chosen few, in their minds at least, who swear they know it all and want to puke all they know in everyone’s faces. Are we having fun yet? We're about to.

For five years I lived with the White and the Black. I did so honorably, never once selling out or putting on the Indian Show. Folks would ask me all the time, “are you going to wear your indian clothes?”. I'm dressed, ain’t I? Got clothes on, and I'm Native. No, they want feathers and leather, woo wooing around a bon fire. They want some celestial wisdom from the great beyond imparted upon them.

I admit I pissed off a whole lot of folks in the five years I spent doing what I was asked, not what I assumed. I never gave credibility to the twisted half baked delusions some brought to me. White folks who couldn’t find their collective asses if they used both hands and a road map. If true spiritual understanding jumped up and bit them in the ass they wouldn’t recognize it. I was never afraid to call bullshit when I smelled it. Relentless, merciless with those who insisted on attempting to infect me with their bliss bunny delusions. I wasn’t sent there to hold anyone's hand. I was sent as the foot in the ass. I didn’t have the answers, only questions. All I could do was point the direction. It was up to each individual to find their way to the truth. That box of answers. As it was up to each individual to open that box, and deal with what was inside. Many times I told many people, I will assist you, but I will not help you.

For whatever reason. Grandfather has removed the protection that was with those two Sacred Animals. Nothing these penis chopping man haters in white robes and twig tiaras will ever do will get it back. The last time I was with them the Ancestors closed the door. Now some looney tunes is hanging robes and ties everywhere. No direction, no understanding of why, what the colors mean, the numbers. Making the place look like some whacked out Christmas tree. That flying ass monkey is even hanging the color I was given responsibility for. All I can figure is she really misses me. I must have gotten real good to her if she is hanging my colors. I would say thank you but I'm on the effen floor, laughing until it hurts. I would love to see these fools try taking your twisted version out to the Relatives who actually know. Go ahead, I double dog dare you. There is a reason why none of the real Elders and Medicine People, like the ones who came when it was being done right, will have anything to do with you idjits. No traditional Elder or Medicine Person, who truly is, will support their pixie dust sniffing orgy of insanity. Now, they want to “honor the Black Buffalo and reign in the Year of the Woman”. Really? Every year is the year of the woman. The Sacred Feminine never left. Some forgot it and this twisted Amazonian ideology ain’t it.

Let me let you in on a little secret. Something a few dipshits cant seem to get their over inflated egos around. You don’t want to be messing with the Black Buffalo. The White, now he gets your attention. There is a reason the Black is off to the side, acknowledged but not focused on. She is the nail in the coffin. She heralds in the end. She is destruction, devastation, eradication. Some want to do a happy dance for her? Put on funny hats and sing stupid songs? There are faster ways to commit slow suicide.

Some will call me bitter, resentful. Go ahead. You are missing the point. I WANT YOU TO. Pull the pin on that hand grenade. Wait, wait, wait. Let me move OK, now, go right ahead. I'm far enough away and yes, I am laughing my ass off. Five years you wouldn’t listen. Five years Elders and Medicine People from many Nations tried to tell you. Five years, all and more right at the tips of your fingers. But, like petulant self centered children on Christmas, all some could do was trash it, denigrate it. I didn’t want that color. That’s not the one I wanted. Fine. Have it your way. Good luck with are so going to need it.

As I have many friends remaining in the area, I am kept up to date on what is taking place with these two Sacred Animals. The following was sent to me this morning, 7/27/2011:

Dear Ones,
Peaceburgh is so fortunate to be a thriving Community of Unity with
increasing occassions for transformational events that promote unity, joy
and expanding consciousness of our muli-dimensional Being and divine

I am so moved to share this next event with you: the 4th birthday of the
Sacred Black Buffalo, "Thunder" who is the female counterpart to
"Lightning," the Sacred White (male) Buffalo. See details on the attached

The event will be at Nemacolin Resort, Farmington, PA 15437, at the Millioke
Meadows (near the golf course), from 10a-5p.

It will also be a time of celebrating the return of the sacred feminine and
the year of healing for women, as we honor this sacred animal with song,
dance, drum and creating prayer ties.

Children are welcome.

Bringing your own water and snacks is suggested.

Hope to see you there!

In joy and unity,

Now, I haven't corrected the spelling or grammar. The language of the “invitation” says everything. I have met the person who wrote this and I can say with no hesitation, this creature epitomizes a blissed out love and light spewing crystal twinkie. Talking to her left me needing a shower to get the pixie dust off. White people messing with things they have no understanding of. Power their feeble minds could never comprehend. There isn’t a Native person among them. Everything I fought against, protected those two Sacred Animals from, brought to bear from the local community of wack-a-loons. Dust of your fairy wings! Its chanting time! I don’t want to be in the same zip code with these fools when they start opening those doors. Can you imagine whats just waiting to come through from the other side? The power that was with the White Buffalo is no longer there. When the powers that think they are evicted any and all First Nations representatives and culture, that power jumped to Texas. Did anyone not make the connection? Within days of their actions, that little calf was born. Do I need to get my crayons? Now, the lets play Indians want to open the door on what the Black Buffalo represents. Flip the switch on the medicine she carries. Maybe that's the point. Maybe that is why Grandfather removed everything. Go ahead fools, rewire that nuclear bomb. When it goes off, look for the nearest mirror to find someone to blame.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Is You Is or Is You Aint?

Without ego or arrogance, I have to say I do enjoy this life. Its a hard way to go, not one I would wish on a single relative. To watch as the Ancestors do what they do. To witness healing, awakening, understanding in those who willingly set aside their preconceived opinions and let go. Those who realize they don’t know, submit, and open themselves to truth. Because that is exactly what this is. Submission. Giving in to what you don’t have the questions for, much less the answers. Understanding you don’t know, but are willing to learn.

How do you tell whats real from whats made up in someones head? With no frame of reference, no experience, how does someone know that what they are seeing is real, or absolute bullshit? Title is one. If the fool walking through the door, before they even say hello, vomits their title, there is the first red flag. Those who are don’t have to tell you. Maybe someone else will pull you aside and whisper to you. After you have spent three hours drinking coffee with someone, laughing, cutting up and having a great conversation. Then you find out that was so and so. This has happened to me several times, in many places. I once sat with an Elder, somewhere between 70 and 90. Relaxed and composed, we laughed over coffee, sharing stories of the urban confused. Things we each had seen, experienced, by those who didn’t have a clue and wouldn’t know what to do with one if you wrapped it in fancy paper and gave it to them on Christmas. I later learned, through someone else, I had just spent three hours with one of the most powerful medicine people in Indian Country. And he never said a word about it. It was just me and Grandpa, hanging out, shooting the bull over coffee.

Say some fool walks into your home, or where ever you may be. Full of themselves, and all they know. Next thing they are breaking out a shell, filling it with white sage. Got so much smoke going you would swear they were fogging mosquitoes. Out comes the turkey fan, and they begin chanting some nonsensical whatever. Singing Bill Miller or Rita Coolidge as a ceremony song. Putting on a big display, showing everyone in the zip code just how special they are. How much of that do you think is real?

Maybe a full blood comes to see you. Straight off the rez, raised in traditions and culture. Knows the songs, how to put things together. Up in everyone’s face, telling you how it is, how it should be, and why it is that way. Bullying everyone into submission, forcing all to adhere to their understanding. They are from the rez. They know all there is to know and all must bow before them. Demanding money, demanding to be recognized. They too have titles, and they use those titles like a bat, smashing everyone in the face with it. How much of that do you think is real?

To put this into perspective is very simple. Most of us have been or still are drinkers. Hang out in bars and clubs, looking for a good time or a quiet beer. At some point some fool will show up, all pomp and circumstance. Loud mouthed, boisterous, calling attention to themselves. Forcing every person in the place to acknowledge their existence. Everyone must see how special they are. Everyone must accept they are better than everyone else and what a privilege it is to be in the same room with them. Breathing the air they have used to sustain themselves. What a blessing to gaze upon their divine countenance. Then, there is the other guy. Some notice him, most don’t. He is usually alone, off by himself. Not really saying much, sipping a beer, taking in the show. Anyone who has an ounce of sense knows that’s the guy you leave the hell alone. He doesn’t have to jump up and down, acting like an ass, calling attention to himself. Yet, everyone knows. No one really gets close to him. If they have to pass by him, they keep their distance.

This is the way of a true medicine person. They walk in, sit down and ask for a cup of coffee. Maybe they fire up a smoke, and simply start having a conversation. They aren’t breaking out the feathers and dew-dads. Simply hanging out. The entire time they are carrying on a conversation about not much of anything with you, they are also speaking with those they walk with. Those Ancestors and Beings who hold the true power. Watching you, listening to you, peeling you apart like an onion. When you finally open that door, just a crack, that’s what they have been waiting for. Sometimes it takes an hour, sometimes a couple of days. Eventually you will reveal where you are wounded. From out of nowhere they ask one question, make one statement. A spiritual grenade thrown with perfect accuracy, instantly blowing everything to hell. You're left sitting there, speechless. Now, the healing begins. All the person did was come in and have a cup of coffee. Because the person is only a person. Its what travels with them. What you cant see.

True medicine people don’t put on a show. They don’t seek patients, the patients come to them. Because they know it isn’t them. The true power lies with those who have chosen them. There is no flash of lightning and crash of thunder. In a whisper they come, tearing off the mask, bringing what you need. Quietly, with no hint they are even there. Maybe a chill comes over you. Maybe a scent fills the room. All the while, that medicine person is sitting there, chatting about nothing, drinking coffee, smoking a cigarette. And your life will never be the same again.

The fool who blew in, demanding all recognize and acknowledge their deified presence? Best to shake their hand, give them a smile and walk the hell away. That fool is going to get someone hurt. Look for the one in the corner. The Grandma, the Grandpa, not calling attention to themselves. Quietly, they are simply there. They wont come to you. You have to go to them. Maybe invite them to come see you. Some will, most wont. Most stay where they are, patiently waiting on those willing to admit they don’t know.

Some travel, going here and there. Called to those who cant get to who they need to see. Those who see and don’t fall for the three ring Indian circus show. Traveling among the relatives. Never asking for anything. Maybe a meal, a cup of coffee. Giving of themselves with no expectations of return. What little they have they give, without having to be asked. Understanding, as much as any two legged can, they are simply a person. A person living with an immense responsibility. Humbled by that responsibility. Their reward is witnessing the healing given to those they were sent to. Listen to the whisper relatives. The whisper.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

I didnt raise you to be a little bastard.........

It is always with the deepest appreciation and absolute humility I go where ever I am sent. A hard life, yes, but so rewarding. I have the opportunity to visit and spend time with so many. Sometimes a few days, sometimes longer. Always gives me the warm and fuzzies when I hear from folks after I have left and they share with me what the relatives continue to do for them. These old ones who drive me around like a car, park me in someones' life. Get out and start healing. It certainly isn’t me. I'm just a person like anyone else. Nowhere close to being that enlightened or intelligent. Hell of a life I tell you. I get to witness so much beauty. Some damn ugly in the process, but even that they turn into something that heals.

I had a family not too long ago I visited with. They are quite wealthy and live an extremely comfortable life. Unlike what the majority of us live today. Living paycheck to paycheck trying to bring two ends of a rope together to meet in the middle and the rope is simply too damn short. Seems we'll never get a knot tied in it. These folks however didn't have those concerns. Much more than they needed, and they were aware of it. Good people, who understand it isn’t what you have, its what you give away. All except that evil self centered little bastard of a son they have.

Seventeen years old and knows it all already. He probably should get a job quick with all that knowing before he forgets some of it. Has everything he could ever want, whenever he could want it. Doesn’t even have to ask most times as his parents love him deeply, and want to give him the best they possibly can. Like any of us, with or without money. We want our children to have what we didn’t and we work our asses off trying to give it to them. Sometimes, as in this case, that’s the worst thing we can do. For some, they appreciate what we do for them. Its that appreciation that keeps us wanting to do more. Conversely, its those insolent, self indulgent petulant little shits who think they are entitled that give us a different feeling. The ones who feel we are their servants. They don’t need to work. They don’t need to pay bills, help out with the groceries. Absolutely nothing wrong with them physically. They are healthy, intelligent, capable. They know how to hustle, how to make a buck. Just don’t want to get off their lazy asses because someone is going to give it them. After all, the world owes them.

This young man was exactly like this. Had it all handed to him and believed it was supposed to be that way. He was born into this world to be served by everyone else, starting with his parents. No respect for anything. No respect for women. The gift that is woman. The power, the awe that is woman. Watching him push his girlfriend around, ordering her like she was a dog. It wouldn’t be long before he was raising his hands to her, beating her. She wasn’t a person to him. Not an individual with thoughts and feelings. She was something to be used, abused and taken advantage of him.

His folks and I talked, and they finally came to a conclusion. They had tried everything already, to no avail. The Ancestors told me what to tell them, I gave them what had been given to me. It was their choice to do it, and they did. It was hard for them, hurt them deeply. They understood what they had to do was out of love, even though their son didn’t. One afternoon they called him from his room, letting him know they were going for a ride. Of course he whined and cried, but they weren’t taking no for an answer. “Get your ass in the car and shut your mouth.” You can picture the look on his face when they walked outside and his brand new Escalade they had just bought him, was idling in the driveway and ready to go. Into his car they went, Dad driving much to the sons surprise, Mom in the passengers seat, him in the back. He had never ridden in the back of his car before. Hell, the only time he used the back of the car was to get high, drunk, or take advantage of a young girl.

They drove their son to the local Goodwill. Inside they picked out a complete outfit for him. Shoes, t-shirt and pants. They found an old pillow and an old blanket. All the while they didn’t say a word to him. He walked around that Goodwill, nose stuck up so high its a good thing it wasn’t raining or he would have drowned. Sour, ugly expression on his face. Nasty, biting expletives vomited out of his disrespectful mouth. The things this child said to his parents would make someones skin crawl. His folks ignored him, continuing with their shopping. Can you imagine? Super rich white folks, foul mouthed wretched child beside them, in a Goodwill? Damn and then some.

When they had found all they needed they headed back to the car. Their son demanded the keys but this time Dad wasn’t taking his shit. In no uncertain terms he told that boy to shut his damn mouth and get in the back. Something about his tone and facial expression let that boy know he best not argue. From the Goodwill they drove to the seediest, most run down part of the city they could find. Dilapidated buildings, hookers and crackheads on the corners. Cars up on blocks, homeless passed out where they could find a spot. They pulled over, and got out. They then had their son remove all his new fancy, pretty clothes they had paid for and handed him what they had bought him at the Goodwill. They handed him the blanket and pillow. His father told him, “Welcome to your new life. Tomorrow you turn eighteen. I have spent your entire life giving you everything I could and you don’t appreciate a damn bit of it. You're ugly, you’re rude. The things you say to your mother are revolting. The way you behave, treat other people, treat your girlfriend, is disgusting. This is not the boy I raised. I got you to eighteen, now you're your own. When you can grow up, learn humility, respect and honor, the door will be open. Its your home son, but its my damn house”. Then they got in his car and drove away.

It took about three weeks for that boy to find his way home. He doesn’t behave like the spoiled rotten little bastard he used to. He is respectful to women, to his mother and father. He appreciates all he has and goes out of his way to share, to do for others. No one really knows what happened to him on those streets. He doesn’t talk about it and when its mentioned he hangs his head, wont look at you. Whatever happened, it was ugly. It hurt, as much as it hurt his parents to do it. One thing is for sure, it got his attention. Seeing many of the kids I see today, I'm thinking this, or a similar version of it, might need to be done for them too.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Idiots, and The Confused Who Follow Them

I agree some of the things I write are scathing commentary on the state of affairs for the urban confused. Sometimes, this is what it takes to get some folks attention. I have actually had some individuals get screaming pissed at me because I refuse to recognize and/or address them as “insert title here”. What they missed, the point they will never get, is the instant they demanded to be recognized as anything other than person, the chance of them ever fulfilling that role or title is instantly negated. Their ego nullified any shadow of humility. They will never be anything more than a hollow empty shell, more dangerous than they, or those around them, can begin to realize. There is no difference between fools like this and any other bully. Using there self perceived idea of how special they are to push everyone else around.

Speaking with a friend not long ago, the question was raised about protection. He had enough sense to understand the spirit isn’t a game, and unless directed should never be played with. He was asking how one was able to interact with these entities, and if there were charms and protective litany used. My response was no. In my understanding, to those who have been given the responsibility to carry these things, they are also given all the protection they could ever need. Cal it a perk of the job, so to speak. For those few who been chosen to be Elders, Medicine People, Healers, Interpreters, with that responsibility came entities that protect them. Some are animal form, some are human form, some have never been anything other than spirit form. They know these protectors intimately. They know their names. Names never spoken outside of ceremony. The fools out there who think they are? Who have assumed they are? No protection at all.

Understand something, 90% of what exists in the Spirit World will not hurt you. They are there to help, to guide, to teach. On your behalf they work. The 10% that can hurt you, and will hurt you, are not interested in you. You do not effect the balance of life. Simply living your life, and that’s a good thing. Its those who have been asked to carry responsibility, and the immensely arrogant who think they have, these are who they are interested in. Especially the immensely arrogant. Those who have been chosen they mess with, they terrorize, but those few are well guarded. Its the dipshits that are on the menu.

Theses things that some are playing with? Pouring water, carrying a pipe, a drum, a staff. Absolutely no clue what they are dealing with. Look at it as a telephone. Out there punching numbers, no clue who or what will pick up the other end. There are things out there, very nasty things, just waiting. It isnt multiple universes. Its parallel realities. Untold, immeasurable. There are things in those realities. Terrifying things. Horrifying things. These things feed on idiots. Manipulate them, assure them they are all they think they are. Then the fool, with zero knowledge or understanding, zips on down to the local powwow and buys something they shouldn’t have. Because they want it so bad. Exactly what those entities were waiting for. Can you say lunch?

True Elders, medicine people, never bully. They don’t have to. There is no need to demand recognition. Hell, in absolute honesty, they would prefer not to have recognition. They can walk into a room of 1000 people and sit down. Instantly every person in the place knows. It emanates from them. They don’t have to say a word. Just be. True medicine people don’t go looking for patients. The patients look for them. Unknown even unto themselves, no explanation needed or given. A quiet strength, simply there. I have heard it referred to as being a hollow bone. I like to refer to it as being a meat puppet. These chosen few, their lives no longer theirs to live. In service to every relative. On the clock, 24/7. Always suffering. Always grateful to suffer. It isnt that they wanted it. They accepted it. Usually kicking and screaming. The fools who want it? Demand it? They will never see it. These are the ones who have no comprehension of what it really is, and never will.

Many times I have heard, I'm training under so and so to become such and such. Really? Do something for me, will you? Stop reading this, go to the nearest mirror, look deeply into your own eyes and repeat after me: I am a dumb ass. Another fine example, even more absurd, is how they were trained by such and such a tribe, made a medicine person or pipe carrier or some stupid shit. Now they are out here to teach the remainder of us unenlightened souls. If you are following one of these deluded flying ass monkeys, please repeat the above exercise, then punch yourself in the face. Not only are you a dumb ass, you're an idiot. Do you not realize these fools are a walking nuclear bomb? In your desire to fill that empty hollow space, with anything, you are not only jeopardizing yourself, you are also risking the lives of your family, everyone you know and love. You have now put their very souls at risk, all to soothe that desperate aching need. Fools like that will, and do, get people killed. There are thousands just like them, and there have been thousands before. They come and go, leaving only destruction and devastation in their wake. Creating more confusion, more misinformation. Giving rise to the next batch of walking wounded and those entities feeding their delusions of grandeur are lining up like kitties to the milk bowl.

All of this is everyone’s individual choice. There is a reason the real Medicine People don’t interfere. If someone is stupid enough to put their head in the lions mouth its their own damn fault when it gets bit off. Someone plays with the medicine and someone else gets killed for it, they are responsible. Besides, it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Nothing anyone could say or do will deter those whose ego is all encompassing. Those whose lack of self esteem and confidence is so lacking they assume the persona of something they have no understanding of. Nor is there any help for those who willing choose to follow them. You want to listen to the idiocy spewed forth by chief Fluffy Ass or Grandmother Squishy Shorts? Go right ahead. Your choice. Your decision. But what happens next is your fault. No one is going to save you. No one is going to stop you. Oh, they will feel bad for you. They will have pity for you. But not one true medicine person will interfere. Go ahead, put that penny in the funny looking thing in the wall. When you get knocked backwards ten feet on you ass, go find that mirror again.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Native Wisdom...or Some Twisted Version of It

Good morning kiddies. Welcome to mister hawks neighborhood. Today’s lesson? The urban confused. Blissed out crystal twinkie members of the love and light brigade. Idjits who couldn’t find a traditional understanding if it were their ass and they used both hands and a road map. Those to lazy or so egotistical going to where tradition is crosses their minds only as a commodity. But they know. They have all the answers and cannot wait to vomit their interpretations all over everyone they meet. Traveling, meeting many of these full blown wack-a-loons, some of what they come up with staggers the mind. Mostly I just look at them, wondering if they really believe the crap coming out of their mouths and how they hell they came up with it.

Individuals like that you cant talk to. They know it all already. Every time, without fail, what they prove is how much they don’t know. Blinded by their own ignorance, content in their paint by numbers hallucinations. Not long ago I was attempting to have a conversation with one of these patience testing self deluded. Exasperated, I had them contact a very traditional Grandmother. Within seconds that Grandma was so pissed off, she impolitely listened to this dumb ass, hung up the phone and promptly called me. The gist of the conversation was if I ever, ever let that fool call her again she wouldnt speak to me for the rest of my life. Talking with a 90 year old grandma, raised in the traditions, knows the traditions backwards, forwards and sideways, and this fool is telling her all she knows. That Grandma was thinking, (she told me after ripping me a new one), if you know so much, what the hell are you calling me for?

They are everywhere. They want it, so bad. Starving for something, anything. Desperately seeking a direction. Any direction, to add definition, some substance to their lives. Understanding the church has been lying to them for years. Coming to that hollow empty place within themselves. Needing, craving, an all encompassing hunger to fill the abyss that is their soul. These fools show up at traditional places, ceremonies and gatherings. The first thing they do is walk up to an Elder and spew forth their made up name. Usually some mystically stereotypical hollywood interpretation. Next comes all the wisdom granted unto them from the great beyond. Instantly one of two things happen. The real Elders, who could have helped these fools had they had the sense to shut the hell up, turn their backs and walk away. How could they help some one who knows it all already? The other scenario is the predator. The second these goofballs started talking the first thing they heard was ch-ching!

Understand something. No one can teach anyone how to be spiritual. There are no apprentices, no acolytes. No one studies under someone for “x” number of years and becomes whatever. Doesn’t work that way. Never has, never will. Usually the fools who are doing this are being instructed by those with just enough knowledge to run a game. Or those so full of themselves if they were to walk onto a rez, into a traditional gathering, the Elders would verbally stomp them into hamburger. These fools don’t dare show themselves around real traditional people. Instantly they are shown to be the charlatans they are. Their goes their standing in their “indian club”. The only way to learn this is from the other side. If the other side chooses to teach you. The Elders are there as advice and counsel, because they have already live through it. Too many spend too much time telling the spiritual all about the human. Preconceived opinions and ideas about what everything is. Imaginations making up the most outlandish of bullshit, then spreading that manure everywhere they go. The only thing they are fertilizing is another crop of useless weeds.

The excuses they come up with to defend their hallucinations is nothing short of incredible. Stupendous feats of mental gymnastics. Defending their ignorance tooth and nail. Making absurd statements like, “spirituality isn’t only on the rez.” Um, where they hell do they think it began? Out here, in urban society? Some things did. Reiki, Wicca, witchcraft. That horseshit started out here. Traditional First Nations understanding? No, you have to go to it. Where it is. To find traditional understanding, you have to go to the traditions. They aren’t coming to you. Much like learning a language. You can go almost anywhere to learn a language. But to know the language, the nuances and texture, you must go to the language. To where the language has always been. To where it lives. To those who know it, live it, have retained it for generations. Otherwise what you are learning is some bastardized bullshit version created to sooth some deluded fools ego of being special.

Of course, there are those who do come out here. The vast majority of them, 99% of them, are coming out here because of the fools. They are all to well aware of the needy, and are coming to fulfill those needs. What they are bringing holds no substance and has zero value or basis in truth. Having grown up in the traditions they know just enough to run the game, and those out here are simply too damn stupid to know its happening. Leave the rez, become a god. Someone portrays themselves as Jesus or Napoleon or Hitler and they get locked up. A full blood makes up an organization, hangs a title on themselves like headman or medicine man, and folks line up. While they are patting you on the back and imparting wisdom with as much substance as a hollow chocolate bunny the other hand is firmly planted on your wallet. After they have taken everything they can, they leave. Then those who have been jacked either never return to the spiritual way of life or worse yet take the illusions they were shown and try teaching them to everyone else. And some folks wonder why most traditional people think urban mix bloods are idiots. Do I need to get the crayons?

Also, I'm am not even vaguely interested in the defense of those things I mentioned above. Yeah, yeah, yeah you are tapping into the universal energy of all reality to provide healing love and light. Excuse me, I need to vomit. If these fools met a real healer, saw real power, the majority would run home screaming. Yet they will defend the delusion with blood. Argue to the point of frothing at the mouth. Reiki began in 1922 and is an adapted version of Buddhism. The key word being adapted. Revised and reformed to fit whatever the hell it is today. Much like the christian bible. A Judaic text translated into English under Puritan influence. How close to the original do you think that is? Gerald Gardner popularized Wicca in the 1950's and look at it today. Witchcraft, as many of you Puritan descendants know would have gotten someone hung. Typically witches, or those accused of being a witch were practitioners of folk medicines and remedies. Most were seen as a threat to the religious fanatic. Murdered because heaven forbid someone didn’t follow someone else's interpretation of what they initially had no freaking understanding of in the first place.

For those who truly want to understand, to learn, the first step is “I don’t know”.. Those three little words scare the crap out of some people. God forbid they should ever admit they are simply children and like all children, need to be instructed. Sometimes harshly, sometimes gently. Go to where the traditions are. Not that local indian group down the street run by chief fluffy ass. They know as much as you do, if not less. Guaranteed most of what they are doing is made up in their minds, or were taught to them by someone who made it up or by a predator who worked them over like a well used mule. When you get there, sit down and shut the hell up. Let the traditions teach you. That Elder, by themselves not saying anything to anyone, usually with a smirk on their face? Yeah, that’s who you should be listening to. The one who has everyone gathered around them, practically bowing before them with their collective noses shoved so far up his/her ass they will never get the stain off? Walk away. You are about to be bent over the table. Simple rule of thumb. If the title enters the room before they do, they are full of shit. Real healers, medicine people will never tell you they are. You will only learn they are from others. Who usually speak of them in hushed tones with an undercurrent of awe. People who get what they do is a burden and carries a heavy price tag. Those who understand what was given was given for the People, not the person. You cant buy it because they give it away. Not until you listen to the silence will you begin to hear. Or keep listening to the idiots. Keep feeding their ego, helping them convince themselves of how special they are. Now who is the dumb ass?

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Respect of the Sacred Feminine

Years before, I began on this journey, going places. Meeting folks, learning. Many Elders and medicine people. Real people, of the First Nations, who learned what they know not from books, movies or others with no cultural knowledge. Individuals who learned from their grandparents, who learned from theirs, long before the European invasion. Many ceremonies, some as a participant, some as a supporter. Closing the door on my responsibility as Guardian is allowing me to retrace some of those steps, visiting again some of the people and places, and the impressions I left behind. One impression seems universal, and and in my mind, incomprehensible. Prevalent practically everywhere I have been and I am clueless as to how it became “truth”. Because nothing could be further from it.

“Hawks in town, lock up your daughters!”. Excuse me, what? How did I manage to paint myself with the brush of a womanizer? Visiting friends now, the reference was made humorously. I got the joke immediately, and certainly took no offense. Pondering on the insinuation drew more questions than answers. Where is this coming from? What did I do that would have left the impression? Talking with my friends, one possibility was revealed.

Where ever I go, who ever I am visiting, I tend to disappear for extended periods of time. The assumption was made I was out chasing, and capturing, the local women. No, I was getting away. I have spent the majority of my life alone. I actually prefer it. I need it. Too much time around groups of people, large or small, begins to grate on my nerves. I need silence, no interference between me and the other side. Honestly I'm not a big fan of people in general. I can only watch for so long as the predators feed off the relatives. The relatives letting it happen. All I can think is what a dumb ass. Cant they see what is happening? I noticed some do, and let it happen anyway. So desperate to believe in something they fall for anything. But it isn’t my place to interfere. Not my place to put my nose where it doesn’t belong. If they are foolish enough, or desperate enough, to allow it to happen, it isn’t up to me to call attention to it. Besides, if I did, they would defend the predator and attack me. Add to this stew of prey and imbecilic, I can only tolerate twinkies, bliss bunnies, the urban confused and members of the love and light brigade for so long. Someone is either trying to hug me, convert me, share their celestial wisdom on my unenlightened person or teach me how to be what I am. I have to get away. Somewhere, anywhere, where their voices like nails on a chalkboard I no longer hear. Or snap and tell them exactly what I think. Somehow that behavior has been interpreted as me hunting two legged deer.

Then of course there are the fire breathing femi-nazis. We certainly cannot forget them. Women who believe the matriarchal system is a sword, wielded against any penis possessing entity. The confused interpretation men are subservient to them, must bow before them. They are God itself manifested in the purest of absolute power and woe unto those who do not postulate before them, immediately begging forgiveness for their very existence. How utterly absurd. I bow before no man, or woman for that matter. I do not tolerate lightly bullies, of either gender. Simply put, I am no ones bitch. The idea, in my mind at least, has always been mutual respect. A balance between the male and the female.

A woman’s strength is subtle, passive. A mans strength is obvious, aggressive. Only a union of the two provides beneficial results. The response to strength in a purely offensive capacity is typically defiance, dissent. The response to strength in a purely defensive capacity is aggression, dominance. Neither work. Only together, balanced. Protection provided, yet the willingness to stomp a hole in the first s.o.b. who threatens. Women were consulted on all matters with this understanding. No war, no battle, was fought without that consultation. Not to seek permission, but opinion. After all, it is their sons, their brothers and husbands who may die. Men will seek to always dominant each other. Its genetic and we know no other way. Application of the feminine, the gentle, the compassionate, applies reigns to our otherwise destructive tendencies. Conversely, feminizing everything turns boys into women with a dick. Useless, mamby pamby wus boys who cower at the first steely glance.

I've said it before, and it bears repeating. Men are about useless. We have two functions, to provide and to propagate. Gives us enough time, we will screw that up too. If not for the guidance and strength of women, we would happily kill and destroy everything we come into contact with. If we cant eat it or have sex with it, we would just as soon kill it. Want proof, look no further than the world today. Men in charge, eradicating everything. Somehow, a few thousand years ago, women were convinced they are inferior to men. Women are subservient to men. Bullshit. Flip that around and it makes a lot more sense. From what I understand, every living this on this planet begins life as female. Everything. It is only through a genetic defect men exist. Our insides fell outside. Leave it to men to rule the world and kiss the world goodbye. Women can, and do, maintain all that is. Nature has shown, repetitively, the female can reproduce without the male. Parthenogenesis exists in smaller mammals. How long would it take the human species, the female, to evolve into this capability?

This in no way entitles women to create an amazonian society. What is so wrong with being a woman? Too often I see woman, whose best attempt at success is being masculine. Why in all that is sacred would a woman want to be a man? I understand why I man would want to be a woman. Compassionate, nurturing, loving, quiet strength. Strength far superior to anything a man could accomplish. Beauty, all that is beauty, coalescing in one being. However, these two understandings must work in conjunction with each other. Neither in front, neither behind. Two who become one, bringing the power of all creation into existence. Is there anything more beautiful than the absolute pure love between a man and a woman? I submit, not.

With all this said, I can only hope it sheds some light on my deep, awe struck admiration and respect of women. I cant say I wasn’t a skirt chaser, I would be lying. Those days are gone, left in the past with many other bad habits. I gave up the one night stands, the meaningless physical relationships. I understand, in order to be seen as honorable, one must behave honorably. To earn respect, one must be respectful. I get along very well with the Grandmothers of many Nations. Anyone with any experience in First Nations culture knows the Grandmas are always watching. If for one second I were to behave in any way suggestive of looking for the first snag, rest assured those Grandmothers would kick my ass. Hopefully, this dispels the rumors I have a problem with women, I don’t. I should, considering everything I have experienced at the hands of women. Admittedly, women can often be the most vindictive evil creatures on the planet. Yet, at the same time, there is no comparison to the beauty, in every aspect, they regularly achieve and project. Hopefully the rumors subside I have no respect for women. Quite the contrary, I have nothing but. I am clueless how you do it. I know I do not, could never be, a woman. I believe, if a man could could become the shadow of what a woman is he will have achieved greatness. The best I can do is be a man. Guess that’s going to have to be enough.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Details of a Few Others

Seems I'm getting my chops busted because I didn’t do what I was told to. Well, I did, sort of. Not what They had in mind, though. Details They said. Details. Damn. Fine then. Details it shall be. Or at least some, eh?

A brother from another mother in Uniontown, PA says I could walk into a room of 1000 women. 999 perfectly sane, intelligent, warm and loving. The 1, bat shit insane, narcissistic and self involved? Yep, she's the one for me! No doubt, there is nothing wrong with me that several years on intense psycho therapy wouldn’t cure! Actually, probably wouldn’t help at all. I'd wind up a case study, and the therapist would need a therapist when all is said and done. Nothing like watching a mental health professional lose it. Yes, I have a twisted sense of humor.

I previously highlighted some of my earlier involvements. Now a bit deeper. “D” was my first wife. Why I married her I still have no explanation for. Loneliness? Rebound from a previous long standing relationship? Possible. Plausible. Probable. Certainly inexcusable. Not having a clue as to what love was, I confused the physical with the emotional. Sex was love, and love was sex. What a dumb ass. At the time I was drinking enough to kill most people. I had developed my addiction to alcohol into an art form by then. I am also well aware I was a bastard to be around. Sober was a myth, and not one that held any truth for me. If I wasn’t drunk I was hung over, working on my next drunk. I must have been a walking nightmare to live with. However, she was no angel either. When I learned she was pregnant, from the guy next door, I walked. Seems she had difficulty keeping her pants on. I still remember the meeting I was called to after our divorce. Sitting around the table at a local bar were 7 close friends, guys I was in the military with. I was out of the military by then, “D” was still serving. At our apartment we would have insane all night parties. I would drink myself into a stupor then pass out. Whoever happened to be there, she would have sex with. All 7 had, at one time or another, some several times, been at those parties. Each of the 7, including many whose identities are still unknown, had slept with my wife. While I was passed out in the other room. The memories of what happened after they divulged this information are still fuzzy.

A few years later I met and moved in with the woman who would give birth to my children. That was a nightmare from jump. I tried to do the honorable thing when she told me she was pregnant. In all honesty she was supposed to be just another one night stand. I had grown up without a father, or a mother. I didn’t want my children to know how that felt. At the time it sounded like a good idea. Yes, alcohol influenced. Several years of that insanity, add a daughter, and the obvious became apparent. There wasn’t a chance in hell that relationship was going to work. Add to it I had an affair and the end result was a foregone conclusion.

By then I had enough of women. I decided, in my alcohol induced stupidity, every woman would pay. Pay dearly for the pain they had caused me. At no time did I realize I had done it to myself. I was not prepared to admit the fault lay with me. I was to blame. So I burned through them. Dating 5 at a time, with three rules. 1) You are not the only one. 2) Never forget where the door is. 3) Never, ever, tell me you love me. The worlds biggest asshole, huh? Oh yeah, to a whole new degree. I had them passing each other in the halls. Six weeks later I would dump all of them, and find 5 more. That stupidity ended with wife number two. I thought I had found “the one”. Still no concept of love, an emotional cripple. Our marriage was doomed from the start. “S” and I are friends now, and we talk occasionally. We really tore it up together and had some wild ass years. When I refused to be put on a shelf, taken down and occasionally dusted off, then replaced, I revolted. Considering the fact, which I learned after the divorce, she was drunk when she took her vows, I'm thinking she wasn’t that serious at the time. Maybe it was just fear, but I still find it insulting she had to get drunk to marry me. Huh, imagine how she must have felt when she sobered up.

About the time of our eventual divorce, I was waking up to the blood that flows through these veins. The Ancestors were calling and They weren’t taking no for an answer. I met “A” then, and what a mistake that has turned out to be. Three years together, most not bad. I simply reached a point where I was done. There was nothing more to give. It wasn’t in me, it wasn’t there. She could not accept that, and ever since has done everything possible to make my life a living hell. Even after I was there for her, when we weren’t together. There to support her daughter and granddaughter. Hell, I even bought her a car. Paid bills. Fixed things. Now, she tells people I'm a fake, a wannabe plastic medicine man. Even went so far as to try to trace my genealogy to show the world how white I am. Now that’s demented. And she wonders why I left. “A” is a mix blood, like myself. She is very caught up in the idea of what she, and many like her think a matriarchal society is. The belief is the women were in charge, and men must bow before them and submit. Very, very confused.

Years passed from then on where I remained single, and mostly celibate. By then I swore I would go gay if it weren’t for the sex. Then its just two men having a rational conversation. But me gay is hilarious. Never happen. I love women. Always will. Which of course is what gets me into most of the trouble I've been in. I am an idiot.

“T” was my next nightmare in waiting. I met her at my first Sundance. She was heading for the cook shack, walking away from me. Long legs and dark hair all the way down. She turned and hit me with those cat green eyes and I was done. Stupefied. We spent time after the dance, but there were commitments I had made, promises I had to keep. We agreed if Grandfather wanted us together, a way would be provided. Four years later in Ogallala, there she was. It was like those four years had never passed. We spent that summer together, and she came east with me. Her job was canceled, no home, no money, no options. Come east with me I said and work with me and the buffalo. That lasted three months. I was living in a small apartment then, but that wasn’t good enough. I was delivering pizza to make a few extra bucks to get to Sundance and to send money to help those who needed. “T” wanted a bigger place, so we found a house in the middle of nowhere, an hour and a half from where I was working. Now I'm driving three hours a night, plus delivering, just to give her the place she wanted. Wasn’t enough, and neither was I. I came home one night, after weeks of her crap, to find she had left. Neither hi, bye or kiss my ass. Just gone. I found out later from various sources, it depended on who you were which story she told. I was fake. I was crazy. My medication made me mean. With her being friends with some very powerful people in Indian Country, she still makes my life miserable.

Now we are at “B”. Oh my god what an amazingly stupid mistake that was. Out of loneliness, I agreed to a physical relationship only. Six weeks later, possession began to show its ugly face. After I learned she had accused me of have a threesome with two Elder Grandmothers, she had to go. I'm not going into detail of her insanity, but safe to say crazy doesn’t cover it. Not crazy as in, oh she's crazy. No, crazy as “in we the jury find the defendant”, (thank you Chris Titus). When I finally rid myself of that creature I breathed a sigh of relief. Relief that lasted momentarily. Seems she contacted AIM, told them I was abusing women in ceremony, using ceremony to get laid and pretending to be a medicine man. Immediately every woman around she could influence jumped on the “lets kill hawk” wagon. Internet threads were started and I am still maligned. Still accused of doing things I would die before even considering.

Enter “S” number two. A bible thumping jesus freak sky pilot. I told you I am a sick man. My thought was this could be a prefect union. Religion and spirituality, together with the two Sacred Animals. What the hell was I thinking? Obviously I wasn’t. Religion is some serious stuff, and to the die hard, nothing is humorous. In spirituality, everything is humorous, especially die hard religion. A year later, that crashed and burned. She believes she is the Great Goddess of the Celestial Beyond here to shed light and wisdom on us mere mortals. Being white she needed an avenue into the First Nations. I was that avenue. Her thought was I would conform. Submit to her interpretation of what I should be. She would be in control and I would be the Indian in the cupboard. When I wouldn’t behave, she tried the oldest trick in the book. She took the car, sex and money, which I never asked for yet she insisted on giving. The thought was I would capitulate, crawl back on my knees and beg forgiveness. Promising to always be a good boy. Hah. Imagine her surprise to show up with all her crap on the porch. Now, she has taken over representation of two Sacred Animals, mimicking everything she watched me do. The enclosure looks like a christmas tree. Ties and flags of all colors hanging everywhere. No point or understanding to numbers of and position. Not a drop of native blood in her, but now teaching and displaying First Nations culture. And its all my fault.

We are now up to now. I'm alone again, on my own. Probably safer for everyone. The point to all of this? You figure it out. Learn what love really is. Do not get involved out of boredom, loneliness or lust. Get to know each other, deeply. There are many you can live with. There is only one you cant live without. Find them, know them, and allow true love, absolute true love, to envelope you both for however long your journey through this reality is. Its much easier to settle than to wait. But settling will come back to bite you in the ass. Patience, trust, and respect. You walk beside each other, neither in front or behind. One takes the lead now and again, but the two always return to together. Wait for that unity. Look for that unity. When it finds you, live that unity. Or do the same stupid crap I did and prepare yourself for hell on earth.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Me, Myself and a Few Others

Lots of stuff coming at me this morning. Memories of places traveled, people I have known. I have been so many places, seen so much, seems a limitless pool of experiences I can draw from. Taking Superdog out for his morning romp gives me a chance to spend a few moments each day with Them. Giving Them the opportunity to tell me what to tell you. I've been on a tear these last few days, painting furiously some of the incongruities so blatantly apparent to me. Now, They ask I share some of me. Things that are painful to remember, yet cathartic to write. Is that the point? Am I continuing to heal, as some of this works its way out? Leaching from my soul bits and pieces of the pain I live with daily. Maybe. Maybe I don’t have long left on this rock, and what I have experienced will help someone in some way. Maybe I think too highly of myself, and what I really need to do is shut the hell up. But where is the fun in that?

Well, we're off. On a journey that helped to shape me into the lovable, socially acceptable member of society I am today. OK, stop laughing. I know, that was hilarious. Me, socially acceptable. That hurts to even think about. A very dear friend once called me a teddy bear...with teeth. I always liked that. Seemed at the time, and still does, quite appropriate. Back to the topic at hand, what made me, me?

Everything has a beginning, and I am no different. After meeting some blood relatives, in this case an Aunt, I learned I was born in the back seat of a car. And promptly dropped on to the concrete. Seems my journey through this life was defined breath one. Out I came. Down I went. Welcome to pain, fool. This has been the journey since. One of absolute pain, yet so much beauty.

The first five years were spent with dear old mom. Well, that’s euphemistic if ever a statement could be. Between prostitution, drugs, bikers and god knows what else, lets call it interesting. The continuous dropping off at doctors or wherever she could find. As in left there, only to find my way home. Eventually mom got it right. Two weeks spent in an second story apt. with a few of my siblings, from 6 to infant, alone. No food, no one to care for us. Mom gone for good. Dad in Viet Nam. Guess someone eventually found us and into the system we went. Yeah me! Not.

It goes without saying I have issues with emotions. Especially love. Now there was an emotion I lacked any concept of. After years of wading through the pedophiles and monsters of foster care, I found myself in a home with a wonderful Elder woman. She was as close to a mom as I could have ever known, if I had let it happen. By then I was so screwed up, there wasn’t a chance in hell. God knows she tried. This is also the time I got involved with my first serious relationship. First loves, you never forget them. Although I'm sure she would love to forget me. Spent several years on and off with her, looking for that elusive emotion. As wrecked as I was, I wrecked everything we could have had.

By this time I had developed a serious alcohol problem that would define my life for the next 25 years. By 16, I was blacking out. If there was a drug, I was taking it. In the process of attempting slow suicide, I burned through women as fast as I could meet them. Looking for love, acceptance. Except I didn’t accept me, didn’t love me, so how could anyone else? I married, twice. I divorced, twice. I fathered two children, both from the same woman thank god. Didn’t raise them, their mother made sure of that. Now they are grown, and having been raised with the stories of me from their mom, well, they don’t want anything to do with their dad. My daughter continues to send me some ugly emails, but I understand her lashing out, even if she doesn’t.

Somehow, some way, I found myself here. Doing what I do, for everyone else. In service to all the Relatives. Weird, huh? I did eventually find love, otherwise I never could do this. I met her in Great Bridge, Virginia while I was staying with my sister for a few months. And I never saw it coming. The first time she kissed me, I hit my knees. Not figuratively, not metaphorically. Literally dropped. She walked into a room and I melted. I couldn’t breathe when she wasn’t there, beside me. With her, every love song, every poem, every painting made sense. Her touch burned, embers on my skin. Her smile more beautiful than all the stars in the sky, seen in the cool desert night. I looked into her eyes and have been lost ever since. Three months I was given with her. Then, she left. Having just come out of a nasty marriage, one she had entered into while still a teenager, she was in no way prepared to do anything serious. She was working through the process of discovering who she was. That knowledge and understanding did nothing to ease the pain as my soul was stripped from my body. Her departure, even to this day, causes me the greatest pain I have ever known. Although I understand I could not do what I do without having learned that lesson, that is a lesson I would have much preferred not learning. That is pain no words can describe.

Much, much more has happened since then, but those are stories for another day. This is simply an over view of some of the highlights that make me such an interesting character. Why I do some of what I do. Although what I do is the polar opposite of what these experiences usually create in a person. I am happy to meet the acquaintance of all reading these words. Maybe what I have lived through will help, in some small way. I've said many times before, in order to understand something, you have to have lived it. And boy howdy have I lived it. In spades.

Please, no comments about how I will find love again. Please. Why am I writing this? Hell, I don’t know. They told me to, and I've learned, albeit painfully, to do what they tell me to. I really don’t need my ass kicked by Them...again. Maybe this provides some credibility to the man behind the mask. I've lived life. Not imagined it, not read in books or watched in movies. Dined with kings and paupers. Drank with rock stars and miners. How long I have left is anyone’s guess. There are volumes haphazardly strewn about the recesses of my mind. I guess I have a story to tell. I presume some are interested in listening. Tune in next time, to the next exciting episode of me, my life and the characters I have shared it with. My only suggestion is hang on tight, its been one hell of a ride.