in yourself centre and honour the artist woman, mother, other then you’ll know how to ask others to do so then you’ll know what can be asked, and what must be commanded. With gratitude to the beauty of JR,HW,FD,HG.
Category: spiritual vs political
A Constellation of Support
Today seems a good day to post this little article from 2015. A Constellation of Support It was a rare pleasure to meet the various people I interviewed for this, and I came away feeling uplifted. The thing is, nobody does anything in this world without support, whether we see and acknowledge it or not….
Death Tango for Three: the Podcast
Last winter, Argentinian born poet and art historian Luciana Erregue-Sacchi invited two writers – myself and the fabulous Nermeen Youssef – to join her on a quest, to encounter, perform and respond to Paul Célan’s masterpiece, the Todesfuge/Death Tango. Over the course of an incredible night, we shared our hearts and minds, resonating like bells…
Life + 70
So, the word in trade negotiations today is that the new agreement for North America, whatever else it may entail, affirms copyright as extending for the life of the author, plus 70 years. Life + 70 I find myself wondering what that means for Indigenous communities, where the concepts of copyright are stringent in their…
Ode to Allan R
Another perfect day. A great day for madcap rehearsals for the massive community theatre show. But was it the power or the water utility responsible? I don’t remember, and the people i’d ask are either dead or otherwise out of touch. Anyway, the town had no water. No water is no big deal as far…
Being Here, Now, Part Two
So, I was saying I met Ram Dass? That is to say, in the library of the good people who invited me to live in their house (and made it seem I was doing them a favour by house-sitting), among the books was this dark purple one, called ‘Be Here Now.’ I’d never seen anything…
Keep on Dancing
Today, I’m watching this film: Dancing Around the Table My aim was just to show my kid her grandpa, there among the indigenous delegations; but of course, start watching, and it is remarkably clear that, despite what the champions of derivative, tragedy porn works like ‘Secret Path’ would have us believe, the truth has been…
O Canada: Our Home, and Native Land
Not that we haven’t got Indigenous language versions, made by Indigenous language speakers. That’s remarkable, really, considering how the government made it policy to try to exterminate our languages. My Ojibwe tongue was severed in my father’s generation. That those who have kept our languages love this country in spite of it all, enough to put into those the anthem of the country that engendered such a history of abuse against our families, frankly moves me to tears.
This level of love and enduring belief in the power of making a home here for all comers should be lifted up as one of the world’s great examples of humanity.
Beginning and Beginning and Beginning
Today, they took the statue down in Kjipuktuk, or Halifax town in Mi’kmaki, mapped as Nova Scotia along the stormy Atlantic Ocean Where did it begin? This need to raise up monuments to men who call for deaths of other men and women and children and ways and lay a bounty on our scalps…
Bizhiki: Witness
Ghost Dance the real ceremony is righteous hatred for the murder of the buffalo for the betrayal of the bond whose bones blow now in dust across you lands, whose blood seeped down and fed the water whose vow was never broken so long as the people remained faithful to their end of the deal…
Tool Of God
Originally posted on Prairiepomes:
? It has been a long, dark winter. Today marks four years since the tsunami that devastated Tohoku, with its continuing legacy of nuclear refugees, radiation leaking into the sea, untold ramifications to come to us all. I pray that those who are responsible to act directly upon Fukushima have been…
Toes for God
God loves each of us as if there were only one of us. – St. Augustine If not for my Mom, God might have taken my toes, along with my horse and my money. I was the third of six, middle daughter, youngest of the ‘big kids.’ Sometimes I felt a bit invisible to Mom….
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