Dancing With...

My favorite movie of all time is Dances With Wolves, and that's no secret. I'm watching it now. Kind of. I know how it goes, but the spirituality moves me like nothing else can.

I discovered many years after this movie became my favorite that Lakota meant Sioux. Once I discovered this, the language in the movie made so much more sense. Listen to it the next time you see it on cable...every time there is talk of the tribe, they speak of Lakota, not Sioux. That's special.

I am entranced with the Native American way of life simply because it would seem that they made no apologies for who they were. Not at any point in time. Who knows if "infertility" existed in this time or place. All I know is that women are respected in the tribe above and beyond what they are today. I don't know if it mattered whether or not they had a papoose strapped to their backs. What I know is that in many tribes, including Lakota, women are regarded as dominent and the men take the woman's name at marriage. How cool is that?

I often wonder if in this culture a woman would be outcast for her inability to bear children or if she would be worshipped. Often I feel it must be the latter, based on what I know of these people. I think that our existing culture is more tribal than it would like to admit. I feel often that I would be more welcomed as a Native American than I could ever be as a white woman. I feel that I would be more respected and cared for by the natives than I am by my surroundings. It is what it is.

The natives are beautiful and I want to be beautiful too. I want to rise and set with the sun and be praised for who I am, not condemned or judged for what I lack. My college geography instructor taught that the translation of "wachichu" is not "white" but "greedy". I never want to be so wachichu that it is obvious to my fellow men and women that my heart is not in the right place.

I always want it to be right; pure and true. To be there is to be special beyond expression in the terms of Christianity. It is bliss, and it is truly what I seek.

Happy Birthday, Mom

Occasionally over the years I’ve given you grief about having been born on Groundhog Day. I suppose you’ve heard that for a good portion of your life. The blessing is that it’s easy to remember and your birthday is forever associated with a rodent “predicting” the return of spring. Or is that the rub?

Personally, I think it’s pretty damn cool to have your birthday at this time of year. Regardless of how you feel about the Punxsutawney Phil charade, simply having your day invoke images of a return to spring is quite awesome as that remains to this day my absolute favorite season.

In an effort to connect with things that I love and need in my life, I’m going to put some serious energy toward raising flowers, both annual and perennial, from seed this year. This is the time of season that I realize I need to get the seedlings started in my windowsill and in the garage, near the windows. I am feeling a bit desperate at this point in my life to find a way to nurture a life form and see it grow. If/when these seedlings grow to mature plants, the blooming can be associated with birth. Obviously, it is my hope that not a single plant perishes along the way but I fully realize and accept this risk. No, I am not signing any disclaimers but I am calling the shots in the game right now and simply do not see a need to lay my heart on the line.

Comparisons aside, this is a day for me to put my struggles on the shelf and focus my efforts toward letting you know how much I have grown to love and appreciate you as a person. When I look back on the photo albums that you so graciously lent to me immediately following my last ectopic pregnancy and near death experience, I see the most beautiful woman whom I have ever known, both inwardly and outwardly. I realize that you continue to grow every single day and that the gesture of lending me the albums was an attempt to help me to do the same.

I think I am finally “getting it”, though I fully realize I will continue to learn and grow every day that I remain in this body, just as you have and that you are. I think I am finally coming to understand the things that you wanted me to see in those photos.

You’ve always referred to me as such a beautiful baby but when I see my favorite childhood photo of you with your princess outfit and Shirley Temple curls; your radiant smile and your perfect pose, it always makes me smile. You really had to have been the pride and joy of your own mother. Perhaps she didn’t show you as she should have. Please don’t dwell on that but bask in the realization that you have shown me. I feel so loved by you right now and I swear that I couldn’t ask for a better mother. Not now, not ever.

I am finally seeing you for who you are as a person and you are magnificent. You were a little girl once with hopes and dreams; wishes and expectations. Perhaps your life didn’t turn out precisely as you had planned either. But I’ve heard you say countless times that you wouldn’t trade your three girls for a “do over” and I absolutely believe that.

My life isn’t turning out precisely as planned, but I think I can accept that and move forward. I can roll with it, just as you have. I can appreciate and embrace the victories; accept and learn from the defeats – just as you have.

I could probably never adequately express my love for you but I hope you now have a semblance of accomplishment for having had the capacity to raise a child that absolutely adores you.

Happy Birthday!