Aboriginal, Afterlife, Awareness, Collective, Grief, Indigenous Issues, Love, Mental health, NDN, poem, Poetic Justice, poetry, PTSD, Self care, Self realization, Stolen Sisters, Strength, Wellbeing, women

Phyllis performs “Dear Papa,” “Mary Margaret,” “The Losing Battle,” “Has Anyone Ever,” and “Break Free.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdFV_foLmTE&fbclid=IwAR1EfGrGhozeiS38K7wb-46aqSctu-IVxOfvrTEgkpb0SOCitWA6zG26tt8
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Aboriginal, Awareness, Collective, Indigenous Issues, Love, Meditation, Native, poem, Poetic Justice, poetry, Uncategorized

Take me Away

As the sun begins to fade, the waves bounce off the rocks and glide over the sand. Water can be as gentle as a summer’s breeze or hard as a mountain top. Water can make or destroy life; powerful unlike anything other.

As I sit on a rock by the water’s edge I am reminded how beautiful it is to be alive. Water is everything. Without her we are nothing. She is the glue that binds our atoms together. She is energy, she is the one thing we can’t live without.

When the world turns cold she becomes hardened and unbreakable. When she gets heated she is what cools us. We drink her; nourishment in the simplest form. How can we ever take her for granted? She will still be here long after we are gone.

When I am close to her she opens my heart and mind. I offer her tobacco and pray to Creator and her. The greatest gift from Creator is tobacco we should honour that gift to creator everyday.

Thoughts enter my mind. All my insecurities and self doubt arise. I hold my sema in my left hand close to my heart. I don’t have to speak Creator already knows our troubles and doubts. I just give thanks for the blessings and the lesson that unfold while on my journey down the Red Road. I never ask why I just accept what is and leave it in Creator’s  hands, he knows whats best for all of us. I leave what no longer serves purpose with the water and she takes it away.

I have many dreams and goals. I work hard to make them happen but, I also know that everything I do is not my doing, it is our Ancestor’s and Creator who guide us. I have faith that they will take me away to higher places. I want to fly as high as the Eagle does, above the clouds close to the stars. I have the vision of an eagle and I see what is inshore for me. The perfect gift Creator has given to Creation is finding high self in simplistic things, and most impotantly never forget to give Creator the greatest gift he gave to us… Sema. He loves to receive the very same gift to from you.

 

 

 

Awareness, Love, Mental health, Native, poetry, PTSD, Uncategorized, Wellbeing, women, Writing

Silent She Sits

The morning sun breaks through the darkness of night. She wakens, opens her eyes to a beautiful view of the city line. She walks over to the window and thinks to herself its going to be a beautiful day and thanks the Creator for allowing her to live another day.

The morning goes great she has her coffee and smoke; thinks to herself all the things that she is going to do to change the world. She has big goals and she is chasing her dreams.

She wants to write, many books she says. But there is not enough time in the day. She starts the day with a smudge to clear her mind.

She sits and stares into nothing you would think she is thinking of something but she is not. She is standing still in time, not knowing that the time is passing by.

Silent she sits.

She no longer thinks of the past or at least tries not to, but, something is holding her back. A force that is stronger than any goal or dream she has ever had.

If you ask anyone she is the type of person who makes things happen. She has a fire inside her that is fierce. A heart that shows compassion and when both are at one she moves mountains.

Silent she sits

She moves from not thinking to thinking about a million things at once. Doubt starts to sink in and this is wear all the trouble begins.

All her strength becomes saturated  with fear. She has nothing to fear but herself. She knows this but she is to caught up in her mind to let her heart tell her different.

She becomes withdrawn, spends time alone and never talks about the things that matter. She doesn’t want you to see the pain she feels inside, and it would be highly unlikely she would ever let you close enough to her to know the difference.

There are many sides to her, even herself has not figured them all out quite yet. She has come so far and knows this to be the truth. That fear is not real; it’s just her imagination

Silent she sits.

While all this is going on, the world is passing her by. Her dreams are slipping though her fingers and falling to the floor. Her thoughts have become puddles of tears.

She dries her eyes and pushes on the day. Thinks to herself what has just happened. She just spent the whole morning crying over spilt milk. She screams in silence because silent she sits…

Hoping all this will one day go away.

 

 

 

 

Aboriginal, Awareness, Collective, Love, Native, Self care, Self realization, Uncategorized, Wellbeing, women, Writing

Untitled

Since I have been concentrating on bettering myself life hasn’t gotten any easier, but, it has become more significant. There is meaning in a day. Not that time has become more valuable, more so that it has become a means to make the most of my life.

I have  forgotten what it was like to watch the days just pass on by without doing something productive. Now that I have put my efforts into inspiring others to heal; live their life and follow their dreams.

There is great healing for me when I place my head down towards a blank sheet of paper and begin to allow my thoughts to unfold. This is where I feel at most peace. There is a strong connection between my spirit and the creator in this space.

I find many answers to life’s great mysteries; the questions I have about life. My prayers are answered here. When I write I don’t even think about the words, I just let them scatter onto the page, sometimes it doesn’t make sense at the time. But, when I go back later it comes to me like an epiphany.

Creator hears us through our art. Writing is my art. Our prayers are word in the air, but, writing is talking on paper.

What is it that speaks to you? How do you interpret the world? Is there something that you have found that gives you purpose?

Some people have become accustom to living a life without doing the things that bring them joy. Days, weeks, months, years pass by and the only thing they can focus on is how shitty their life has become.

I went through ha bit of writer’s block. I felt as though I had nothing to write. The mundane task of academic writing took away my passion for reading and writing.

Facilitating creative writing has brought me back to me. Who knew that by sharing my gift with others would also help me too.

I also have to accept the writing process. I did not lose my touch, more so, I was in the gestation period of the writing cycle. No guilt or shame has become of this, I continue to share my thoughts and stories.

 

Aboriginal, Awareness, Collective, Indigenous Issues, Love, Mother Earth, Native, Self care, Self realization, Uncategorized, Wellbeing, women, Writing

Back In the Day

I remember the things my Nokimis  and Noshimis use to say and show me as young child. At the time I did not understand what exactly it was they were trying to teach me. It seemed a bit confusing at the time as I was just a young girl. I was sent to live with my Nokimis when I was 8 and in that time I thought I was sent away from my mom because I wasn’t loved, looking back now, I know that wasn’t the case. My mom sent me to live with her because there was things that she couldn’t teach me that knowledge that only our Elders possess, that comes from life experience.

The knowledge you can’t find in books or that is tokenized on-line. My Nokimis always had a gift with words even though English wasn’t her first language. I use to fade away into her voice listening to her life as a child living off the land and knowing only to take what she needed; possessing value of community and that no one went with out. In the times that there wasn’t much the family pulled together and made due with what little they had.

Colonization had her thinking that her ways were the inferior way of living. She was ashamed of being  First Nations and at times would devalue her culture to try to fit in. It was no fault of her own that she felt this way. I know if she were alive today she would be so proud of me reclaiming my identity of an Anishnawbe Kwe. Although, she did not knowingly teaching me the Anishnawbe’s way of life. She made sure that I knew how to make a blanket to keep me warm, how to gut and cook a fish, and always had me following her in the garden.

It was difficult for me living with my aunt and cousins. I was treated rather unkind; not feeling like I belong. I was teased and made to feel shame because I wasn’t with my mom. Because of this my Grandmother was a bit more kinder and paid just a bit more attention to me. Instead of feeding to the fire of jealously from my family, she kept me busy. Back then it felt as though I was always doing chores, she really was teaching me how do keep going no matter what and not to lets others actions or words distract me.

It was hard for all of us growing up (even her), being separated from her siblings, all of them were sent off to residential school. As a child my grandmother had Scarlett fever so she was not sent to school. I am amazed at the strength she had despite all the challenges she had to face. She started having children at 14 years old and didn’t stop until she was 42, and after she raised her own children she was looking after her Grandchildren. When her mother became older she took care of her too. She never got to travel the world, get an education or simply just live life for herself. Everything she did, she did for others to make their live’s just a little bit easier.

This way of life back in the day, the way our Elders lived was simple. The complexity came when they were forced to be separate from the land, language and ways of life. We all need to honour the beauty of our culture as Anishnawbe people and make an effort to bring those ways back. First with ourselves, then, to our communities and beyond. My Grandmother was brought into this world knowing her traditions and when she left, her spirit was sent home in a traditional good way.

I carry her and a thousand ancestors before me in my blood. My life only became more meaningful once I had realized this. Once the healing within myself began I started looking at all the challenges I had as lessons. That, I could only lead as far as I had gone. I have experienced great humility, but I have also, felt most proud of being who I am… An Anishnawbe Kwe.

 

 

Aboriginal, Awareness, Indigenous Issues, Love, Native, Self care, Stolen Sisters, Uncategorized, women

Missing our Stolen Sisters

On my home it hit me, the intergenerational trauma I feel my sisters pain and their loved ones so brave to keep making a stand year after year for our sisters spirits that are stuck between worlds. The ones who never made it home.

As I stood outside in the bitter cold of this February 14, 2016, to honour our stolen sisters. I could feel their spirits around giving me shivers, the kind you feel when your hair stand on the back of your neck. Even though their time with us was short, their spirit touched so many lives in so many ways.

We have to let them go, tell them it’s okay to go on to star world, for if we do not they will stay between the two realms to comfort and protect us. The ones who have not been brought to justice in this life will be one day in the spirit world.

When we think of our sisters, we should not only think of the injustice of their destiny. But rather the good times, the way they made us laugh, or the way their eyes light up when she smiled. When we miss them they know, and they are hurting too, please say a simple prayer of I love you.

As a young man spoke of his sister today, he reminded us of the fact that our Indigenous men are hurting too. Because they feel that they had failed to protect us. We often do not hear of our warriors pain. There is too much violence in our communities, and it has to stop! Indigenous women are five times more likely to experience violence, and the violence that we endure is three times worse than any other race.

As this Valentine’s Day comes to an end tell the women in your life that they matter, and they are loved.

 

Love, Self care, Uncategorized, Wellbeing, Writing

Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You

Has anyone ever written anything for you? Has anyone ever put their heart on a piece of paper that you can easily tear apart? This is written for you in hopes you see the beauty in your darkest hours.

The words just don’t come out right with conversation. So I am writing this one for you.I wish nothing but good to you and your loved ones. They say if you love something set if free if it comes back you know it was yours in the first place. The difficult part of loving is that most people don’t understand the concept of Love; it is seen more as a feeling than what it actually is… Love is a state of being.

If I didn’t tell you that I loved you then I would be lying to myself and the Creator, for the Creator says we must all love and keep one another. The Bible was meant to teach us what happens to the world when we stop loving one another. When greed takes precedence over kindness and compassion. We are not made to fear each other and form alliances seeded from injustice or hate.

Has anyone ever written anything for you? In all this madness of this world someone thinks of you and silently prays; watches you from the outside, only because you won’t let them in. All your successes and failures guess what; some one was cheering for you regardless. They did this because they know what it feels like to think that the world is against you. Although you may think it is weak to have a friend to rely on, that person is there when ever you look to them.

There has been far to much that hasn’t been written for you. Yet, there has been so much that has been written in to attempt to make you understand that these words are meaningless, if you never really appreciate the simple things in life. There is a blessing in these lines. For you see, I did not write this for you on my own. The Creator has used me as a vessel to spread his divine love unto you; with acknowledgement of the miracle that has transpired, you will see that someone has written something for you. But that someone wasn’t me.