Bloging Into The Void
I have been dealing with the relative invisibility of this work for decades. I remain unbowed. When I think of the long road ahead, I know we are doing our part to make something useful, something that can be carried into the future.
The seeming contradiction of invisibility versus progress is not intimidating, it changes nothing. When I travel around and visit the old Indians I always learn about where what is real is revealed. The old Indians have never heard of you, or of even the most famous people you have heard of, including Indians. They don’t know who Britany Spears is, or even George Bush. Everyone seems to have heard of and misses hearing from Muhammad Ali.
No, the old Indians don’t talk about you or them. Their subjects are closer to home, closer to the bone. Indian people have become experts at surviving. Many tribes lost everything. They lost their language, clothing, culture, habits, religion and property. Yet many Indian people remain, some even thrive. To have been stripped of everything and yet remain present in the world…it is something we no longer find intimidating on any level.
I learned a long time ago to seek clarity for myself. As I make my way quietly around the world I make these notes to myself. My main hope in each posting is to say clearly what I mean and nothing else. I believe if there is any light here, it will reveal itself in the darkness soon enough. Light does not need publicity, it is its own reward.
Many people have a fascination with their own darkness. Perhaps the internet presents to great a temptation for people to resist pretending. The mask of pretending is easy to make on this world wide wizard box. Who are the people who write these words? How much of it is true?
I have always believed that the truth should be known even though the heavens may fall. I wonder what the distance is between your words and the truth. The old Indians believed that one should be responsible and behave impeccably with language. Even if the story is a joke. Learning to tell the truth with elegance and simplicity from a protected and clear space inside your life is much more entertaining than a lie.
Over these many threads I have named myself, known myself, expressed myself. As an Indian man, an American Indian man, I feel that obligation to say what I can and leave it here for those who will come later. Walking softly, quietly, invisibly when you need to. Perhaps the trail of our words should be equal to the density of our footprints.
I was reading the other day that the US Government has passed a law granting money to preserve American Indian languages. The program requires a very complicated and dedicated infrastructure be built or provided to set up a complicated and many-conditioned program before the government will release any money at all. It seems like a gigantic catch 22 that very few tribes will be able to manage.
I also read the Barack Obama, a man running for US President, is “part American Indian”. Turns out he is also related by blood to Vice-President and un-prosecuted criminal Dick Cheney, who is white. This situation makes me think of the blood lines of Europe at the turn of the last century…all those kings and queens and princes were related to each other. America has who knows how many people with American Indian blood. To most Americans their distant ancestors seem to mean nothing to them at all. Obama might be one of those who would “reach out” if he had ancestors. Hard to say. -He has made some hopeful statements to Indian people in his campaign, as has Hilary Clinton. George Bush 1 and 2 were disasters for American Indians. Bill Clinton tried to help the tribes but was so hated and opposed by the republican majority that almost nothing changed in his eight years.
Lately I have been dreaming of obsidian.