excerpt from CHEROKEE DIARY (see Aug 31, 2010)
January 1, 2005 - Cherokee second annual Wellness project Called "Tree of Hope". This was held at what is called Unity Field near the tree that was said children from the boarding schools could come (infrequently) to get a hug from their parents. This tree was called the "Crying Tree" until it was renamed the "Tree of Hope". Last year they had celebrated obstacles they had overcome, this year celebrating the vision for the New Year. Paper ornaments were available for attendees to place their hope for the coming year and attach it to the tree branches. There were prayers, drumming and singing followed by a celebration meal at the Fairgrounds mulit-purpose building. I was continually amazed and inspired by the striving for genuine wellness in the community, not just survival, but reaching for the best in each other and supporting each other.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
PEACE - IT'S TIME!
excerpt from ANNE'S WRITINGS (see Aug 31, 2010) In response to youth being arrested in a demonstration in California
Before my time ...
Clans fighting with clubs and spears over meat and woman.
Vikings fighting over sea rights and land.
Colonizing of foreign lands by violence and fierce possession, by theft and bloodshed.
Pushing back of frontiers by lies, promises, rape, attempted annihilation of brown skinned warriors, bloodshed for land and natural resources.
Since my time...
Maniacs brainwashing and promising a super race, millions perishing in gas ovens, weapons of destruction of cities, villages, soldiers to the rescue bringing death, destruction, temporary freedom.
Islands and peninsulas split in two, brother against brother, Korea and Vietnam fought over like a bone by angry dogs, leaving destruction and pain behind, taking pain and human destruction home from the wars.
Middle east with black gold tempting and luring, excuses for aggression, destruction, posturing in the name of honor while raping the minds and hearts of young men who need to be home, building nests, nurturing children, modeling a better man.
No one is listening, no one is hearing the cries of babies, the mothers, the youth who want to dream.
It is time for us, the women, the young, the valiant, to prepare ourselves, strengthen ourselves, teach peace, live peace, learn strategy and negotiation, be ready.
Stay free and work diligently.
Keep your courage and intelligence available and active to form a peaceful society, to teach your children peace.
Wage peace by avalances of letters, calls, emails, visits, lobbying, elections, education, modeling conflict resolution by negotiation, heart listening, empathy, sympathy.
Demand it be so!
Before my time ...
Clans fighting with clubs and spears over meat and woman.
Vikings fighting over sea rights and land.
Colonizing of foreign lands by violence and fierce possession, by theft and bloodshed.
Pushing back of frontiers by lies, promises, rape, attempted annihilation of brown skinned warriors, bloodshed for land and natural resources.
Since my time...
Maniacs brainwashing and promising a super race, millions perishing in gas ovens, weapons of destruction of cities, villages, soldiers to the rescue bringing death, destruction, temporary freedom.
Islands and peninsulas split in two, brother against brother, Korea and Vietnam fought over like a bone by angry dogs, leaving destruction and pain behind, taking pain and human destruction home from the wars.
Middle east with black gold tempting and luring, excuses for aggression, destruction, posturing in the name of honor while raping the minds and hearts of young men who need to be home, building nests, nurturing children, modeling a better man.
No one is listening, no one is hearing the cries of babies, the mothers, the youth who want to dream.
It is time for us, the women, the young, the valiant, to prepare ourselves, strengthen ourselves, teach peace, live peace, learn strategy and negotiation, be ready.
Stay free and work diligently.
Keep your courage and intelligence available and active to form a peaceful society, to teach your children peace.
Wage peace by avalances of letters, calls, emails, visits, lobbying, elections, education, modeling conflict resolution by negotiation, heart listening, empathy, sympathy.
Demand it be so!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
IRISH COME TO CHEROKEE
excerpt from CHEROKEE DIARY (see Aug 31, 2010) See Sep 12, 2010 for visit of Cherokee to Ireland in post called SPIRITUAL JOURNEY OF HEALING
January 24, 2005 - Historical visit to the American Indians (Cherokee) by Lord Alderdice and a delegation of 14 Irish men and women on a tour of goodwill and bridge-building between the people of Ireland and the American Indian of the southeast.
Having been visited last year by a contingent of Native American Indian people led by Lynda Prince and Peregini International's Daphne Swilling, Lord Aldedice and many other political, social and spiritual leaders were deeply impacted by the exchange of goodwill and cultural sharing from the delegation of Indian people, which included drumming, dance, regalia and gifting. Lord Alderdice has studied the history of the American Indian peoples for some time and is a distant relation to Andrew Jackson. When asked if he would be open to coming to America on a goodwill tour for bridge-building relationships with the Indian peoples, he enthusiastically accepted the invitation.... He offered his heart to Indian people as one who desires new bridges of mutual respect, honor and action for healing and renewal. His message was received with great enthusiasm and encouragement from all assemblies, after which Irish and Indian cultural sharing was exchanged with dance, music and drumming from both cultures.
January 24, 2005 - Historical visit to the American Indians (Cherokee) by Lord Alderdice and a delegation of 14 Irish men and women on a tour of goodwill and bridge-building between the people of Ireland and the American Indian of the southeast.
Having been visited last year by a contingent of Native American Indian people led by Lynda Prince and Peregini International's Daphne Swilling, Lord Aldedice and many other political, social and spiritual leaders were deeply impacted by the exchange of goodwill and cultural sharing from the delegation of Indian people, which included drumming, dance, regalia and gifting. Lord Alderdice has studied the history of the American Indian peoples for some time and is a distant relation to Andrew Jackson. When asked if he would be open to coming to America on a goodwill tour for bridge-building relationships with the Indian peoples, he enthusiastically accepted the invitation.... He offered his heart to Indian people as one who desires new bridges of mutual respect, honor and action for healing and renewal. His message was received with great enthusiasm and encouragement from all assemblies, after which Irish and Indian cultural sharing was exchanged with dance, music and drumming from both cultures.
Friday, October 22, 2010
NOBILITY
excerpt from ANNE'S WRITINGS (see Aug 31, 2010)
Shades of brown, and black, and tan,
Gentleness and strength in this man.
Endurance and control, no loss of soul,
Seeing the sunrise instead of the gold.
Hearing the music with the soul,
God grant us this - to never part.
8-10-96
Shades of brown, and black, and tan,
Gentleness and strength in this man.
Endurance and control, no loss of soul,
Seeing the sunrise instead of the gold.
Hearing the music with the soul,
God grant us this - to never part.
8-10-96
Thursday, October 21, 2010
EDITORIAL RESPONSE
My response in the local newspaper in Gainesville, Fl. after a racially charged event in 1995.....
Letter to Voice of the People
This past week's events have made this country begin to wake up to the effects of a lackadaisical attitude toward race relations. I am in a workshop on the healing of racism. We are only at the beginning of understanding the complexities of healing. I feel so inadequate for the job. We will truly have to rely on God to guide us. My own thoughts and feelings are shifting their focus. I can feel my inner self evolving and it is confusing and exhilarating at the same time. I think I see only parts of the picture, I know and feel the history of slavery, oppression, discrimination - both overt and subtle. I've read a lot, cried a lot, despaired a lot, tried a lot but I'm still in infancy in being articulate and effective. I feel extremes. I want to shake people and get in their face, also want to hold and comfort. There is such emotion in me every time I get involved that it is a struggle to be sensible. Sometimes I get discouraged and lonely and want to say "what the heck, nobody else cares." That's not true but feel it sometimes.
I want to say to a white - learn the story, feel the pain, unlearn the stereotypes, unlearn the negative responses, commit to learning positive responses, see the soul, see the individual and the struggle to make it each day, see the family we share, help not to warp another generation, correct the education you gave your children, see and accept the heroes and heroines with darker skin, see diversity and cherish it, be enriched by it.
To the black, I want to say - I am sorry for the conscious and unconscious pain I and those with lighter skin like mine have caused you. Forgive me if you can but know I am trying to evolve into a loving sister who is sensitive and appreciative and humble. Help me by being honest, hopefully in a loving way, but honest nevertheless. Tell me when I err or hurt or am ignorant. Reach inside for that nobility that God gave you and wear it proudly. Excel in spite of adversity. Share with me the gifts of your spiritual nature, your endurance and stamina, your wisdom and graciousness during tests, your nurturing of the qualities of the heart and soul. Your nobility can teach me nobility. Your pain can teach me humility. Your persistent caring can teach me to grow up and become fully human and a member of the same human family.
Letter to Voice of the People
This past week's events have made this country begin to wake up to the effects of a lackadaisical attitude toward race relations. I am in a workshop on the healing of racism. We are only at the beginning of understanding the complexities of healing. I feel so inadequate for the job. We will truly have to rely on God to guide us. My own thoughts and feelings are shifting their focus. I can feel my inner self evolving and it is confusing and exhilarating at the same time. I think I see only parts of the picture, I know and feel the history of slavery, oppression, discrimination - both overt and subtle. I've read a lot, cried a lot, despaired a lot, tried a lot but I'm still in infancy in being articulate and effective. I feel extremes. I want to shake people and get in their face, also want to hold and comfort. There is such emotion in me every time I get involved that it is a struggle to be sensible. Sometimes I get discouraged and lonely and want to say "what the heck, nobody else cares." That's not true but feel it sometimes.
I want to say to a white - learn the story, feel the pain, unlearn the stereotypes, unlearn the negative responses, commit to learning positive responses, see the soul, see the individual and the struggle to make it each day, see the family we share, help not to warp another generation, correct the education you gave your children, see and accept the heroes and heroines with darker skin, see diversity and cherish it, be enriched by it.
To the black, I want to say - I am sorry for the conscious and unconscious pain I and those with lighter skin like mine have caused you. Forgive me if you can but know I am trying to evolve into a loving sister who is sensitive and appreciative and humble. Help me by being honest, hopefully in a loving way, but honest nevertheless. Tell me when I err or hurt or am ignorant. Reach inside for that nobility that God gave you and wear it proudly. Excel in spite of adversity. Share with me the gifts of your spiritual nature, your endurance and stamina, your wisdom and graciousness during tests, your nurturing of the qualities of the heart and soul. Your nobility can teach me nobility. Your pain can teach me humility. Your persistent caring can teach me to grow up and become fully human and a member of the same human family.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
INDIAN HUMOR
excerpts from CHEROKEE DIARY (see Aug 31, 2010)
Workshop on laughter as a healing medicine.
Navaho custom - Baby's first laugh is about 4 or 5 months. They have a celebration to honor the first laugh.
What do you call one Cherokee who is shorter than the other? Not even
Stop at intersection - Where does this road go? Road stops, you go.
Girlfriend Navaho - sugar
Hopi - Sweet and Low
Apache - Equal
New garlic diet - You don't lose weight but you look thinner from a distance.
I'm shy! Okay? Get over it, okay?
Golda Meir - Don't look so humble, you are not that great.
God led us in the desert for 40 years and stopped us in the only place without oil.
Workshop on laughter as a healing medicine.
Navaho custom - Baby's first laugh is about 4 or 5 months. They have a celebration to honor the first laugh.
What do you call one Cherokee who is shorter than the other? Not even
Stop at intersection - Where does this road go? Road stops, you go.
Girlfriend Navaho - sugar
Hopi - Sweet and Low
Apache - Equal
New garlic diet - You don't lose weight but you look thinner from a distance.
I'm shy! Okay? Get over it, okay?
Golda Meir - Don't look so humble, you are not that great.
God led us in the desert for 40 years and stopped us in the only place without oil.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
APARTMENT CHALLENGES
excerpts from TRINIDAD, WEST INDIES (see Aug 31,2010)
My apartment in Bamboo Village, Trinidad, was on the second floor. There were two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen. The shower was on the back porch. The first day I moved in I had to remove a hornet's nest from the ceiling of the shower. I also had to wash down the walls and floors because black soot had drifted in from the burning of sugar cane in the fields nearby. Bats swooped down from a hole in the ceiling of the bedrooms and traumatized me on a regular basis. The legs of the wooden cabinets, which held the food, were placed in cans of gasoline to keep ants from getting in the food. Lizards ran up the walls of the kitchen on a regular basis. Every morning we could hear a chant of "shrimp for 50 cents" outside and since I loved shrimp we ate it often. I had a banana tree and a mango tree in the back yard so fresh fruit was always available There were no screens on the windows so insects visited at their leisure. One night I recieved 50 mosquito bites from my wrist to my elbow. I learned that there was a coil you could burn to keep mosqitoes down to some degree. BUT THE PEOPLE WERE LOVELY!
My apartment in Bamboo Village, Trinidad, was on the second floor. There were two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen. The shower was on the back porch. The first day I moved in I had to remove a hornet's nest from the ceiling of the shower. I also had to wash down the walls and floors because black soot had drifted in from the burning of sugar cane in the fields nearby. Bats swooped down from a hole in the ceiling of the bedrooms and traumatized me on a regular basis. The legs of the wooden cabinets, which held the food, were placed in cans of gasoline to keep ants from getting in the food. Lizards ran up the walls of the kitchen on a regular basis. Every morning we could hear a chant of "shrimp for 50 cents" outside and since I loved shrimp we ate it often. I had a banana tree and a mango tree in the back yard so fresh fruit was always available There were no screens on the windows so insects visited at their leisure. One night I recieved 50 mosquito bites from my wrist to my elbow. I learned that there was a coil you could burn to keep mosqitoes down to some degree. BUT THE PEOPLE WERE LOVELY!
Monday, October 18, 2010
ELLEN
excerpt from COLORS OF MY WORLD (see Aug 31, 2010)
One of my most cherished memories of those first days (1970) of learning the true oneness of humanity was of a college girl named Ellen. Her attractive Afro and cafe au lait skin was made all the more beautiful by a smile that was full of light and love. I went to a meeting, which is called a fireside. This meeting is an informal, comfortable talk followed by a period of questions for those who want to know about the Baha'i Faith. She had paid her own plane fare from her college town to speak to this small group of interested people. During the meeting one of the visitors asked a question in a rather rude tone of voice, "If you put all colors together in such close harmony, won't they try to get married and have children who will be neither black nor white?" Ellen's answer was very sweet, patient and matter of fact. "Yes, and this will add another hue to God's flower garden." She went on with her talk without a ripple.
I stayed after most everyone else left and kept her up late asking her questions. She noticed that I had been looking at her hair intensely, and smiled and said, "You can touch it if you like." Her sensitivity and willingness to help me grow touched my heart. her hair was soft as a cotton ball. Though we lived in different states and see each other rarely I feel like I have walked in to the sunlight when we get together. Her smile is just as radiant s it was over thirty years ago.
One of my most cherished memories of those first days (1970) of learning the true oneness of humanity was of a college girl named Ellen. Her attractive Afro and cafe au lait skin was made all the more beautiful by a smile that was full of light and love. I went to a meeting, which is called a fireside. This meeting is an informal, comfortable talk followed by a period of questions for those who want to know about the Baha'i Faith. She had paid her own plane fare from her college town to speak to this small group of interested people. During the meeting one of the visitors asked a question in a rather rude tone of voice, "If you put all colors together in such close harmony, won't they try to get married and have children who will be neither black nor white?" Ellen's answer was very sweet, patient and matter of fact. "Yes, and this will add another hue to God's flower garden." She went on with her talk without a ripple.
I stayed after most everyone else left and kept her up late asking her questions. She noticed that I had been looking at her hair intensely, and smiled and said, "You can touch it if you like." Her sensitivity and willingness to help me grow touched my heart. her hair was soft as a cotton ball. Though we lived in different states and see each other rarely I feel like I have walked in to the sunlight when we get together. Her smile is just as radiant s it was over thirty years ago.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
HINDU WEDDING
excerpt from TRINIDAD, WEST INDIES (see Aug 31, 2010)
The village, Los Lomas, we lived in for a short while in the northern part of the island was basically populated by descendents from India and were Hindu. One weekend we were startled by a loud speaker so loud it was almost painful, blasting music from India. This music was continuous throughout most of the weekend. It turned out to be a band playing around the clock for a Hindu wedding. There was continuous food available and many guests across the way from the little house I was staying in with another Baha’i and her two children. The clothes worn by the guests were the lovely saris worn by the women and the white tunic and pants of the gentlemen. It was very reminiscent of the movies we had seen at the movie house in Port of Spain. This movie house was a frame building with wooden benches and a huge screen. These movies were of love stories, beautiful music and traditional dancing of India. One of the ongoing themes in the movies was the sacrificial love of the mothers for their children. The combination of sensual dance and innocent love before marriage was so very different from the cynicism and promiscuity of American movies. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that all of India was represented in these movies because poverty and the bartering of daughters in marriage was not only present in India but in Trinidad as well. But still, the beautiful stories were hopeful and touching.
(Slum Dog Millionaire, the movie, has music and dancing very similar to the above.)
Thursday, October 14, 2010
MOTHER EARTH
excerpt from A CHEROKEE FEAST OF DAYS, DAILY MEDITATIONS,
by Joyce Sequichie Hifler
Touching the earth is resting on the breast of our mother. It is once again finding our beginnings - a knowing that this place where we stand or walk or plow or plant, is something created for us.. We know it because the pulse of the earth slows our own and tranquilizes our confusion. Seeing the sky in all its limitless depths stirs our imaginations and stretches our awareness of the simple beauty provided for us. We can see that it is wrong to be bitter and know that it lasts only as long as we let it. When we reach toward the ceiling of our minds, we are as unlimited as the sky. As currents of air stir the fragrances of the flowers, we may not be able to see where it comes from but we sense its influence. Life is ours to enjoy as individuals and it comes from the Great Holy Spirit.
We sang songs that carried in their melodies all the sounds of nature...
American Indian
by Joyce Sequichie Hifler
Touching the earth is resting on the breast of our mother. It is once again finding our beginnings - a knowing that this place where we stand or walk or plow or plant, is something created for us.. We know it because the pulse of the earth slows our own and tranquilizes our confusion. Seeing the sky in all its limitless depths stirs our imaginations and stretches our awareness of the simple beauty provided for us. We can see that it is wrong to be bitter and know that it lasts only as long as we let it. When we reach toward the ceiling of our minds, we are as unlimited as the sky. As currents of air stir the fragrances of the flowers, we may not be able to see where it comes from but we sense its influence. Life is ours to enjoy as individuals and it comes from the Great Holy Spirit.
We sang songs that carried in their melodies all the sounds of nature...
American Indian
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
FROM MY WINDOW
excerpt from TRINIDAD, WEST INDIES (see Aug 31, 2010)
From my window, I could see the square of the village and some of the yards, the unpainted, wooden shack, which passed for the post office, and a general store owned by a family of Moslems. They were very friendly to me in the beginning. They seemed to realize that I was not going to try to maintain a superior or aloof attitude and responded with acceptance and openness. I was invited to their home, which was an apartment over their store. On one visit to their home the grandmother of the house who was dressed in a long white gown moved to the corner of the living room and pulled the first layer of her gown over her head, then began repeating her noonday prayers. It seemed to me like an ingenious way of getting the privacy she wanted in the crowded apartment. The husband of the house was a private school principal.
From my window, I could see the square of the village and some of the yards, the unpainted, wooden shack, which passed for the post office, and a general store owned by a family of Moslems. They were very friendly to me in the beginning. They seemed to realize that I was not going to try to maintain a superior or aloof attitude and responded with acceptance and openness. I was invited to their home, which was an apartment over their store. On one visit to their home the grandmother of the house who was dressed in a long white gown moved to the corner of the living room and pulled the first layer of her gown over her head, then began repeating her noonday prayers. It seemed to me like an ingenious way of getting the privacy she wanted in the crowded apartment. The husband of the house was a private school principal.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
SEQUOYA
excerpts from MYTHS AND SACRED FORMULAS OF THE CHEROKEES by James Mooney
'About this time (1821) occurred an event which at once placed the Cherokee in the front rank among native tribes and was destined to have profound influence on the whole future history, viz., the invention of the alphabet.
The inventor... was a mixed-blood known among his own people as Sikwa'y (Sequoya) and among the whites as George Gist.... On his mother's side he was of good family in the tribe, his uncle being a chief in Echota.... Sequoya was probably born about the year 1760.... he never attended school and in all his life never learned to speak, read or write the English language.... Of an essentially contemplative disposition, he was led by chance converstion in 1809 to reflect upon the ability of the white men to communicate thought by means of writing, with the result that he set about devising a similar system for his own people....
After years of patient and unremitting labor in the face of ridicule, discouragement, and repeated failure, he finally evolved the Cherokee syllabary and in 1821 submitted it to a public test by the leading men of the Nation.... The syllabary was soon recognized as an invaluable invention for the elevation of the tribe, and within a few months thousands of hitherto illiterate Cherokee were able to read and write their own language, teaching each other in the cabins and along the roadside.... The invention of the alphabet had an immediate and wonderful effect on Cherokee development. On account of the remarkable adaptation of the syllabary to the language, it was only necessary to learn the characters to be able to read at once. No schoolhouses were built and no teachers hired, but the whole Nation became an academy for the study of the system.... An active correspondence began to be carried on between the eastern and western divisions, and plans were made for a national press, with a national library and museum to be established at the capitol, New Echota."
When you drive through Cherokee, NC, all the streets and most of the businesses have both Cherokee and English posted. The preschool children have what they call "immersion" class and the children only speak Cherokee. All graduates of Cherokee High School must have at least one course of Cherokee. There are ongoing adult Cherokee language classes also. It has been said that the language of a people insures the culture. Cherokee is alive and thriving.
'About this time (1821) occurred an event which at once placed the Cherokee in the front rank among native tribes and was destined to have profound influence on the whole future history, viz., the invention of the alphabet.
The inventor... was a mixed-blood known among his own people as Sikwa'y (Sequoya) and among the whites as George Gist.... On his mother's side he was of good family in the tribe, his uncle being a chief in Echota.... Sequoya was probably born about the year 1760.... he never attended school and in all his life never learned to speak, read or write the English language.... Of an essentially contemplative disposition, he was led by chance converstion in 1809 to reflect upon the ability of the white men to communicate thought by means of writing, with the result that he set about devising a similar system for his own people....
After years of patient and unremitting labor in the face of ridicule, discouragement, and repeated failure, he finally evolved the Cherokee syllabary and in 1821 submitted it to a public test by the leading men of the Nation.... The syllabary was soon recognized as an invaluable invention for the elevation of the tribe, and within a few months thousands of hitherto illiterate Cherokee were able to read and write their own language, teaching each other in the cabins and along the roadside.... The invention of the alphabet had an immediate and wonderful effect on Cherokee development. On account of the remarkable adaptation of the syllabary to the language, it was only necessary to learn the characters to be able to read at once. No schoolhouses were built and no teachers hired, but the whole Nation became an academy for the study of the system.... An active correspondence began to be carried on between the eastern and western divisions, and plans were made for a national press, with a national library and museum to be established at the capitol, New Echota."
When you drive through Cherokee, NC, all the streets and most of the businesses have both Cherokee and English posted. The preschool children have what they call "immersion" class and the children only speak Cherokee. All graduates of Cherokee High School must have at least one course of Cherokee. There are ongoing adult Cherokee language classes also. It has been said that the language of a people insures the culture. Cherokee is alive and thriving.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
GOINGBACK AND MARY
excerpts from THE ARTIST AND THE STORYTELLER, (Goingback and Mary Chiltolskey) by Mary Regina Ulmer Galloway
...a story of possibilities and determination....
Goingback's carvings represent in places all through the United States and Europe the best of Native American sculpture, and Cherokee legends have lived for many thousands in the words of Mary....
She was born in a log cabin in Alabama....He was the tenth child of a Cherokee family...in the Smoky Mountains...
Goingback (G.B.)....master carver and model-maker for the United States Corps of Engineers...Several of his carvings, including his famous Woman Carrying a Bundle and St. Francis of Assissi, were displayed at the Smithsonian Museum in Washington...
Mary...teacher in Cherokee Boarding School...was told...to gather together the Cherokee artifacts, stories... and put it ouside... to be burned. She...and Nan Tyner...decided to hide the materials under the boardinghouse beds!
Mary is the author of CHEROKEE COOKLORE; TO MAKE MY BREAD (1951), CHEROKEE WORDS WITH PICTURES (1972), CHEROKEE PLANTS:THEIR USES, A 400 YEAR HISTORY, written with Paul B Hamel (1975, and CHEROKEE FAIR & FESTIVAL: A HISTORY THROUGH 1978 (1979)
In 1989 members of the Eastern Band of the Cherokee invited Mary ...to become an honorary Cherokee.
Chief Robert Youngdeer...asked her to go to Reno, Nevada, to represent the Eastern Band at a meeting about books...a free book program approved by the IRS..In 1990 the Cherokee Center, easily the most active in the country, documented the distribution of the one millionth book...
...In the years after retirement from teaching and government work, G.B. and Mary agreed to thousands of requests from groups all over the South to come and talk about Cherokee crafts, legends, and all parts of the Cherokee story.
...a story of possibilities and determination....
Goingback's carvings represent in places all through the United States and Europe the best of Native American sculpture, and Cherokee legends have lived for many thousands in the words of Mary....
She was born in a log cabin in Alabama....He was the tenth child of a Cherokee family...in the Smoky Mountains...
Goingback (G.B.)....master carver and model-maker for the United States Corps of Engineers...Several of his carvings, including his famous Woman Carrying a Bundle and St. Francis of Assissi, were displayed at the Smithsonian Museum in Washington...
Mary...teacher in Cherokee Boarding School...was told...to gather together the Cherokee artifacts, stories... and put it ouside... to be burned. She...and Nan Tyner...decided to hide the materials under the boardinghouse beds!
Mary is the author of CHEROKEE COOKLORE; TO MAKE MY BREAD (1951), CHEROKEE WORDS WITH PICTURES (1972), CHEROKEE PLANTS:THEIR USES, A 400 YEAR HISTORY, written with Paul B Hamel (1975, and CHEROKEE FAIR & FESTIVAL: A HISTORY THROUGH 1978 (1979)
In 1989 members of the Eastern Band of the Cherokee invited Mary ...to become an honorary Cherokee.
Chief Robert Youngdeer...asked her to go to Reno, Nevada, to represent the Eastern Band at a meeting about books...a free book program approved by the IRS..In 1990 the Cherokee Center, easily the most active in the country, documented the distribution of the one millionth book...
...In the years after retirement from teaching and government work, G.B. and Mary agreed to thousands of requests from groups all over the South to come and talk about Cherokee crafts, legends, and all parts of the Cherokee story.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
REMEMBER AND BE PROUD
excerpts from POST TRAUMATIC SLAVE SYNDROME, by Dr. Joy Degruy Leary
So who and what are we?.....
African Americans are a strong, a seemingly infinitely resilient people. We have a long, long history of enduring and persevering through the severest of trials. Our ancesters endured slavery and perservered through Jim Crow.....our struggle for civil rights....continuing pursuit of a level playing field...
We are an industrious people......During the Great Depression when the entire country was under enormous duress, we managed to care for one another with fewer resources than even the poorest whites...
We are a creative people.....established a distinctive culture replete with new language, names, customs and behaviors....our own games, foods, music, art and fashions.....
We are a just and forgiving people.....no large scale, organized, retaliatory 'terriorism' fueled by hatred and ..revenge....courageously fight for justice.
We are spiritual, loving and hopeful people.....we still have faith in God....love for humanity. It is a testament to our fortitude that we still can hope and dream.....
...it is vital that we collectively regain this knowledge so we can take our rightful place in the world community....understand ourselves....a deep understanding will make healing from our wounds that much more complete.
So who and what are we?.....
African Americans are a strong, a seemingly infinitely resilient people. We have a long, long history of enduring and persevering through the severest of trials. Our ancesters endured slavery and perservered through Jim Crow.....our struggle for civil rights....continuing pursuit of a level playing field...
We are an industrious people......During the Great Depression when the entire country was under enormous duress, we managed to care for one another with fewer resources than even the poorest whites...
We are a creative people.....established a distinctive culture replete with new language, names, customs and behaviors....our own games, foods, music, art and fashions.....
We are a just and forgiving people.....no large scale, organized, retaliatory 'terriorism' fueled by hatred and ..revenge....courageously fight for justice.
We are spiritual, loving and hopeful people.....we still have faith in God....love for humanity. It is a testament to our fortitude that we still can hope and dream.....
...it is vital that we collectively regain this knowledge so we can take our rightful place in the world community....understand ourselves....a deep understanding will make healing from our wounds that much more complete.
Friday, October 8, 2010
SCAPEGOAT PHENOMENA
excerpt from RACE UNITY @ (see Aug 31, 2010)
As to the question of scapegoating ( person upon whom blame is made for the mistake of others):
I believe that the scapegoat concept is to make someone with a low self-esteem problem to climb on the backs of those perceived as lower on the totem pole, to boost their own feeling of self-worth.
I would like to add to that that in this country, during the initial start of slavery in this country and continuing throughout it's history, a conscious, deliberate and time consuming effort was made to relay the false and hideous concept of those from Africa being less than human, not a full person with any rights. The churches, the government, the slave traders, and the newspapers of that day wrote, published and distributed pamphlets on how to strip an African of their religion, family, and culture. The preachers spoke this obscenity in the pulpits and the politicians spouted it from their soapboxes. These pamphlets were handed to potential slave buyers so they would know how to "tame and control" those they purchased. Slave owners taught their wives and children how to "treat" these "sub-humans". I have read these pamphlets and it is so dreadfully awful that it still nauseates me to think of it. This kind of poison has filtered into our collective and individual psyches and tainted everything we do and say. This has filtered through our school systems, our media, our churches, and is in all levels of society. (Now we have made inroads to a more accepting society but the underlying damage still persists.) It takes a monumental amount of work with all our minds, our hearts and souls to cleanse ourselves of this poison and get to some stage of seeing each soul as a gift from God in all her/his glory. I think this is why Shoghi Effendi said it took ceaseless effort! Until this country invests that kind of energy into the effort, we will not see a significant difference. Merely agreeing in principle will not do it. Each person must work ceaselessly to rid their own inner selves and become an ally of all those who are also struggling before we can see oneness truly reflected.
Love in the struggle,
Anne
As to the question of scapegoating ( person upon whom blame is made for the mistake of others):
I believe that the scapegoat concept is to make someone with a low self-esteem problem to climb on the backs of those perceived as lower on the totem pole, to boost their own feeling of self-worth.
I would like to add to that that in this country, during the initial start of slavery in this country and continuing throughout it's history, a conscious, deliberate and time consuming effort was made to relay the false and hideous concept of those from Africa being less than human, not a full person with any rights. The churches, the government, the slave traders, and the newspapers of that day wrote, published and distributed pamphlets on how to strip an African of their religion, family, and culture. The preachers spoke this obscenity in the pulpits and the politicians spouted it from their soapboxes. These pamphlets were handed to potential slave buyers so they would know how to "tame and control" those they purchased. Slave owners taught their wives and children how to "treat" these "sub-humans". I have read these pamphlets and it is so dreadfully awful that it still nauseates me to think of it. This kind of poison has filtered into our collective and individual psyches and tainted everything we do and say. This has filtered through our school systems, our media, our churches, and is in all levels of society. (Now we have made inroads to a more accepting society but the underlying damage still persists.) It takes a monumental amount of work with all our minds, our hearts and souls to cleanse ourselves of this poison and get to some stage of seeing each soul as a gift from God in all her/his glory. I think this is why Shoghi Effendi said it took ceaseless effort! Until this country invests that kind of energy into the effort, we will not see a significant difference. Merely agreeing in principle will not do it. Each person must work ceaselessly to rid their own inner selves and become an ally of all those who are also struggling before we can see oneness truly reflected.
Love in the struggle,
Anne
Thursday, October 7, 2010
THE HIVES
excerpt from CHEROKEE DIARY (see Aug, 31, 2010)
Cherokee artist and co-owner of the Tribal Ground Coffee House in Cherokee, NC presented an artist presentation of exploring the transformation of mind, body and spirit in a mixed media and video installation referencing her Cherokee heritage and universal issues facing humanity and the Cherokee culture.
I went into a small exhibition room, which contained a video mural of trees and mountains on the back wall. The light level in the video woods begins at dawn, passes through midday and ends in early evening. Several huge hives of paper mache with the subtle outline of the female figure in the hive design were suspended on bare branches and the hives were approximately five feet in length and three feet in diameter. As I sat down an audio sound came from the surrounding air. At first it sounded like a hornet then grew into the sound of a swarm of hornets but in the sound also was the haunting sounds of whispers. The sound intensified to an almost unbearable degree. I felt as if I was hearing the whispers of women grow in earnestness through the ages, to be heard, felt, to be credited. I came out stunned and empowered at the same time.
Natalie's comments: "Hornets' nests are started by queens that leave one colony to start another. The queen builds the new hive large enough to house 305 daughters. When the daughters are old enough to help build the hive, the queen gives birth to additional females that also go to work. The busiest time is when all the female become well orchestrated.... Early Cherokee communities were matriarchal societies. Women were venerated. Historically, Cherokee women were strong, independent nurturers who raised the crops and made the important political decisions. Children belonged to the mothers, not the fathers. Cherokee men had their own independent lives. "
According to Natalie, Cherokee social structure changed as the white settlers' governing system strengthened.
Natalie is part ot the generation who will take over responsibility for the continued reawakening of Cherokee culture on the Qualla Boundary (Cherokee Reservation) in North Carolina.
"Making HIVESwas about waking up and restarting what has long been dormant...It is about organizing and taking a natural role...At the same time, it is about respecting our ancestors and all those women who did things to protect our culture."
Cherokee artist and co-owner of the Tribal Ground Coffee House in Cherokee, NC presented an artist presentation of exploring the transformation of mind, body and spirit in a mixed media and video installation referencing her Cherokee heritage and universal issues facing humanity and the Cherokee culture.
I went into a small exhibition room, which contained a video mural of trees and mountains on the back wall. The light level in the video woods begins at dawn, passes through midday and ends in early evening. Several huge hives of paper mache with the subtle outline of the female figure in the hive design were suspended on bare branches and the hives were approximately five feet in length and three feet in diameter. As I sat down an audio sound came from the surrounding air. At first it sounded like a hornet then grew into the sound of a swarm of hornets but in the sound also was the haunting sounds of whispers. The sound intensified to an almost unbearable degree. I felt as if I was hearing the whispers of women grow in earnestness through the ages, to be heard, felt, to be credited. I came out stunned and empowered at the same time.
Natalie's comments: "Hornets' nests are started by queens that leave one colony to start another. The queen builds the new hive large enough to house 305 daughters. When the daughters are old enough to help build the hive, the queen gives birth to additional females that also go to work. The busiest time is when all the female become well orchestrated.... Early Cherokee communities were matriarchal societies. Women were venerated. Historically, Cherokee women were strong, independent nurturers who raised the crops and made the important political decisions. Children belonged to the mothers, not the fathers. Cherokee men had their own independent lives. "
According to Natalie, Cherokee social structure changed as the white settlers' governing system strengthened.
Natalie is part ot the generation who will take over responsibility for the continued reawakening of Cherokee culture on the Qualla Boundary (Cherokee Reservation) in North Carolina.
"Making HIVESwas about waking up and restarting what has long been dormant...It is about organizing and taking a natural role...At the same time, it is about respecting our ancestors and all those women who did things to protect our culture."
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
ONE PLANET, ONE PEOPLE
excerpt from RACE UNITY@ (see Aug 31, 2010)
When we looked at the picture of the planet taken from the space flight many years ago and saw our earth with swirls of clouds and green land spots, we had a paradigm shift on a global scale of our perceptions of ourselves. Our finite self in a multitude of billions of other finite selves on this beautiful blue ball. We could not see the man-made boundaries between countries, the names we were familiar with on the globe at school which showed the barriers between peoples. We became aware on some gut level that we were one. Since that time we have seen the man-made barriers shift or disappear altogether. The Berlin wall came down. The USSR disappeared and many smaller countries became sovereign or struggled for sovereignty. Pakistan split into Pakistan and Bangladesh - and on and on and on. Communication has now reached such that we can communicate in seconds with someone on the other side of this planet. Through satellite TV we can see someone on the other side of the planet instantly.
When we envision ourselves as humans, rather than what has been our inclination to split ourselves into groups based on color, nationality, ethnicity, language or culture we can have the same paradigm shift on a gut level and we are humans. We started out in the same place and migrated. We developed different looks through adaptation to climate and survival needs. Now we are able to manipulate our climate and manage our survival no matter where we live. We are coming back together in a global family reunion. We don't know all our cousins. Some seem strange, some are familiar but we are all cousins at the very least in the same family of humankind. A family reunion is sometimes awkward at first but the more we are together the more we enjoy and cherish the little and big idiosyncrasies that distinguish us as individuals but we are still family.
When we meet a cousin who seems shy, or harsh, or loud, or unruly, or weird, or sounds strange, or seem anything different from what is familiar to us we try (because we are family) to be patient, learn their story, learn their pain, learn their interests so that they become understandable and accepted. We love them no matter what and we want to be loved no matter what.
WE ARE ONE!
Much love in our common struggle,
Anne
Dec. 2000
When we looked at the picture of the planet taken from the space flight many years ago and saw our earth with swirls of clouds and green land spots, we had a paradigm shift on a global scale of our perceptions of ourselves. Our finite self in a multitude of billions of other finite selves on this beautiful blue ball. We could not see the man-made boundaries between countries, the names we were familiar with on the globe at school which showed the barriers between peoples. We became aware on some gut level that we were one. Since that time we have seen the man-made barriers shift or disappear altogether. The Berlin wall came down. The USSR disappeared and many smaller countries became sovereign or struggled for sovereignty. Pakistan split into Pakistan and Bangladesh - and on and on and on. Communication has now reached such that we can communicate in seconds with someone on the other side of this planet. Through satellite TV we can see someone on the other side of the planet instantly.
When we envision ourselves as humans, rather than what has been our inclination to split ourselves into groups based on color, nationality, ethnicity, language or culture we can have the same paradigm shift on a gut level and we are humans. We started out in the same place and migrated. We developed different looks through adaptation to climate and survival needs. Now we are able to manipulate our climate and manage our survival no matter where we live. We are coming back together in a global family reunion. We don't know all our cousins. Some seem strange, some are familiar but we are all cousins at the very least in the same family of humankind. A family reunion is sometimes awkward at first but the more we are together the more we enjoy and cherish the little and big idiosyncrasies that distinguish us as individuals but we are still family.
When we meet a cousin who seems shy, or harsh, or loud, or unruly, or weird, or sounds strange, or seem anything different from what is familiar to us we try (because we are family) to be patient, learn their story, learn their pain, learn their interests so that they become understandable and accepted. We love them no matter what and we want to be loved no matter what.
WE ARE ONE!
Much love in our common struggle,
Anne
Dec. 2000
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
CHILD'S PLAY
excerpt from TRINIDAD,WEST INDIES (see Aug 31, 2010)
I found out there had been a civil uprising when I got off the plane with my 9 year old son as we were met by a line of Trinidadian soldiers with machine guns. The country was under curfew for awhile after we arrived. What a scary adventure I had gotten us into. Since I had been a Baha'i only six months I was learning quickly that reliance on God was my best protection.
One of the friends I made was the maid of one of the Baha'i families. This woman had a son who was close to Eddie's age so one day we decided to visit her on her day off. She lived in a small community on the side of an undeveloped hill near one of the towns. The homes were lean-tos next to caves or just standing alone in a circle around a community cooking pit.
As my son and I walked up the hill we noticed that the people stopped and glared at us. I found out later that this had been the hill where most of the guerilla fighters who had taken over the government from the British lived. If I had known how hostile the feelings were I might not have had the courage to venture into this area but I was very naive. I went to my friend's home but Eddie said he din't want to sit and listen to us talk. Could he play with some nearby kids? I gave him permission but told him to stay close enough to see my friend's home. Later I hear the story of what happened in his quest for playmates. This platinum-haired, blue-eyed son of mine went up to a group of about ten very dark, brown-eyed kids and asked them if he could play with them. They immediately rejected his overture of friendship and told him he was too white. They couldn't play with a white boy. Eddie went to the cooking pit, rubbed charcoal all over his face and came back saying "now I am as black as you are, can I play?" He looked so funny with his platinum hair and blue eyes and this black face that they laughed and accepted him. They became very good friends. We received many requests from them to come back and play when we moved to another part of the island.
I found out there had been a civil uprising when I got off the plane with my 9 year old son as we were met by a line of Trinidadian soldiers with machine guns. The country was under curfew for awhile after we arrived. What a scary adventure I had gotten us into. Since I had been a Baha'i only six months I was learning quickly that reliance on God was my best protection.
One of the friends I made was the maid of one of the Baha'i families. This woman had a son who was close to Eddie's age so one day we decided to visit her on her day off. She lived in a small community on the side of an undeveloped hill near one of the towns. The homes were lean-tos next to caves or just standing alone in a circle around a community cooking pit.
As my son and I walked up the hill we noticed that the people stopped and glared at us. I found out later that this had been the hill where most of the guerilla fighters who had taken over the government from the British lived. If I had known how hostile the feelings were I might not have had the courage to venture into this area but I was very naive. I went to my friend's home but Eddie said he din't want to sit and listen to us talk. Could he play with some nearby kids? I gave him permission but told him to stay close enough to see my friend's home. Later I hear the story of what happened in his quest for playmates. This platinum-haired, blue-eyed son of mine went up to a group of about ten very dark, brown-eyed kids and asked them if he could play with them. They immediately rejected his overture of friendship and told him he was too white. They couldn't play with a white boy. Eddie went to the cooking pit, rubbed charcoal all over his face and came back saying "now I am as black as you are, can I play?" He looked so funny with his platinum hair and blue eyes and this black face that they laughed and accepted him. They became very good friends. We received many requests from them to come back and play when we moved to another part of the island.
Monday, October 4, 2010
DRUMMING
excerpt from CHEROKEE DIARY (see Aug 31, 2010)
Put your ear next to a loved one's chest and listen to that heartbeat. That is the rhythm of the Native American drum. The chanting heard during a drumming ceremony is usually a prayer in the language of that particular tribe. Sometimes it is a story or a love song.
We had a guest teacher from Murfeesboro, Snow Bear Taylor, who trained in Africa as well as with Native Americans. He was Native American but had a heart connection to Africa. He demonstrated the rhythms he knew from the African culture, then told us that all drumming originated in Africa. He taught us an old drumming song, the words were a call to the captured African youth who were put on the trains to be taken to the boats for crossing to America and other slave owning countries. The call was from the mothers in mourning.
Put your ear next to a loved one's chest and listen to that heartbeat. That is the rhythm of the Native American drum. The chanting heard during a drumming ceremony is usually a prayer in the language of that particular tribe. Sometimes it is a story or a love song.
We had a guest teacher from Murfeesboro, Snow Bear Taylor, who trained in Africa as well as with Native Americans. He was Native American but had a heart connection to Africa. He demonstrated the rhythms he knew from the African culture, then told us that all drumming originated in Africa. He taught us an old drumming song, the words were a call to the captured African youth who were put on the trains to be taken to the boats for crossing to America and other slave owning countries. The call was from the mothers in mourning.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
GENTLEMAN OF DISTINCTION
excerpt from COLORS OF MY WORLD (see Aug 31, 2010)
During a Healing Racism workshop one of the first exercises is to go around the room and introduce yourself and tell why you are there.
This particular workshop had about 20 attendees. Most were first timers and a few were there after going through a workshop previously. Alvin 's first time coming was when he saw a newsspaper article announcing a workshop to be held at the public library. He happened to sit by me at this first session. One of the excercises was to pick someone you had never met and get to know them, a suggestion to contact them outside of the workshop and build a one on one friendship. He was startled when I turned to this brown, distinguished man and gave him my phone number and asked him to call me. He looked wary and noncommital. But he did call. When he did he said he was just trying to see if I would really reach out in friendship. We chatted and exchanged family and interest information. He was married with children and had never really experienced a more than surface friendship with a "white". He told me of his efforts to mentor youth at a middle school for four years. The men who mentored called themselves "Gentlenmen of Distinction". Thus began a real friendship.
Alvin came to other workshops. At this particular workshop, at the "tell your story of why you were there" time, a man announced that he was a member of the Klu Klux Klan and just wanted to check us out to see what we were up to. Alvin quietly got up and left the room. I noticed and unobtrusively followed him out. He was standing outside in a very rigid stance. I went to him and asked him what was wrong. He said that as a 10 year old he was walking along side of the road and had been run off the road by the car of a Klan member. At the time he vowed that he would kill one when he grew up. He said, "I can't do that now but I am so angry I can't stay in that room." I talked with him for a while and told him that this was what the workshop was about. If he could come back in and tell his story and attempt to build a bridge of understanding it would help him heal. H came back in and told the group his story. The Klan member came back to the sessions several times then wrote the group a letter stating that he couldn't come anymore but had learned a lot and wished us well. We never saw him again but Alvin seemed to feel more at peace.
I called Alvin yesterday to get permission to write about him and to renew our friendship which had become dormant due to living in different states and very active lives on each of our parts. I found that he was partners in a counselling firm working with the department of corrections dealing with substance abuse, sex offenders and juveniles in trouble.
He said the Healing Racism Wrokshops were still needed, that people were more surface polite to each other but there was not very much real, indepth friendships. It was so heartwarming to make contact again and feel his genuine goodness and desire to make a difference. We plan to maintain the friendship better than we had.
During a Healing Racism workshop one of the first exercises is to go around the room and introduce yourself and tell why you are there.
This particular workshop had about 20 attendees. Most were first timers and a few were there after going through a workshop previously. Alvin 's first time coming was when he saw a newsspaper article announcing a workshop to be held at the public library. He happened to sit by me at this first session. One of the excercises was to pick someone you had never met and get to know them, a suggestion to contact them outside of the workshop and build a one on one friendship. He was startled when I turned to this brown, distinguished man and gave him my phone number and asked him to call me. He looked wary and noncommital. But he did call. When he did he said he was just trying to see if I would really reach out in friendship. We chatted and exchanged family and interest information. He was married with children and had never really experienced a more than surface friendship with a "white". He told me of his efforts to mentor youth at a middle school for four years. The men who mentored called themselves "Gentlenmen of Distinction". Thus began a real friendship.
Alvin came to other workshops. At this particular workshop, at the "tell your story of why you were there" time, a man announced that he was a member of the Klu Klux Klan and just wanted to check us out to see what we were up to. Alvin quietly got up and left the room. I noticed and unobtrusively followed him out. He was standing outside in a very rigid stance. I went to him and asked him what was wrong. He said that as a 10 year old he was walking along side of the road and had been run off the road by the car of a Klan member. At the time he vowed that he would kill one when he grew up. He said, "I can't do that now but I am so angry I can't stay in that room." I talked with him for a while and told him that this was what the workshop was about. If he could come back in and tell his story and attempt to build a bridge of understanding it would help him heal. H came back in and told the group his story. The Klan member came back to the sessions several times then wrote the group a letter stating that he couldn't come anymore but had learned a lot and wished us well. We never saw him again but Alvin seemed to feel more at peace.
I called Alvin yesterday to get permission to write about him and to renew our friendship which had become dormant due to living in different states and very active lives on each of our parts. I found that he was partners in a counselling firm working with the department of corrections dealing with substance abuse, sex offenders and juveniles in trouble.
He said the Healing Racism Wrokshops were still needed, that people were more surface polite to each other but there was not very much real, indepth friendships. It was so heartwarming to make contact again and feel his genuine goodness and desire to make a difference. We plan to maintain the friendship better than we had.
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