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When the Resistance expands to more than hating one man and one ideology, count me in.

Lots of people are talking about resistance these days, I say, “Welcome”.

I’ve been resisting all my life. At a very young age I resisted derision after realizing the words written in the sandbox that said, “Dena is a homo” were true. Understanding acceptance of that truth would alienate me from family and friends, I resisted living a lie and remained true to my life’s path. I resisted the lure of completing college and becoming an attorney, and accepted a deeper passion that pulled me toward self-discovery and peace.

Later in life, I resisted western medicine and could have been arrested as a felon for practicing acupuncture (even though National Board recognized) because the powerful American Medical Association chose to see the ancient practice as “surgery” to maintain their grip on American healthcare. And when I saw the artful practice sifted through the legal and political system to suite the AMA, I resisted assimilation into a health system focused on curing, not preventing disease and chose instead to learn about health and healing from indigenous people.

I resist a life of “comfort” for life on a sustainable farm. I resist the “rugged individualism” for a life of community. I resisted tearing down mountains for my electricity and instead, put up solar panels. And I am currently resisting the extraction and transport of fossil fuels and finding creative natural ways to power my world.

I resist America’s wars, including the trumped up war on drugs that has move us quickly to the school to prison pipeline. I have lived without television for more than fifteen years now, resisting the spoon-feed propaganda from all sides. I resist the two party systems, allowing me the freedom to think and choose…and most recently I have stood with people for the protection of water, resisting the oil conglomerates intent on earth-destruction.

For me resistance has not been about being against, as about being for. So as I watch friends jumping on the resistance bandwagon, I am curious. What are you for?

Welcome to the resistance. I am not the first, nor the last to say these things, there are many more in this trail of humanity who have said “No” to ignorance. It is a bold and fulfilling step towards being fully alive. It doesn’t come in a package. It isn’t necessary to be part of a crowd. We are not sheep. I have sheep. Sheep are wonderful beings that I truly enjoy. But I do not want to be a sheep. The gift of living as a human being is the most rewarding; the gift of thinking is an absolute necessity; the gift of choice is impeccable. Resist ignorance. Resist compliance. Resist becoming redundant. You are unique. Celebrate it.

Welcome to the resistance.

“Where the hills of Pennsylvania stand like sentinels round, nestled fondly in the valley lies my high school town”… Rochester’s Alma Mater.

I grew up with some of the finest people, loyal people, hard working people, passionate people. Generations of immigrants, arriving on the shores of America and winding up in a little bit of paradise in western Pa. Many encouraged to come to work in the coal strip mines and new steel producing plants lining the three beautiful rivers there.

They started their gardens, some brought their skills of glass blowing and glass artistry fostering more industry, while maintaining their artisan dignity. The ends of World War I and  II brought the arrival of development and commercialization of wartime industries – and this included highly toxic substances used in nearly all manufacturing and food industries. This new turn eventually upended the smaller glass plants and other small industry driving young people looking for the almighty “job” into toxic wastelands for work.

Chunks of paradise began eroding. One of my off hand comments, “I should glow in the dark for all that I was exposed to in my first seventeen years”, was jokingly said to make light of the reality that was not only my life, but too many of the descendants of the good people of “The Valley”. Wealthier enclaves were able to keep the environmental destruction at arms length. But I am doubting that will continue.

Steel mills long gone, many have struggled to find work with a living wage. The Beaver Valley Nuclear Generating Station still operates, and many residents are rejoicing over the cracker plant soon to become operational, ignoring environmental outcries. Fracking, destroying water supplies and causing earth rumblings is also increasing in the area…

So I have to ask my People, when is enough, enough? How much destruction will we allow in paradise?  Have we not witnessed enough times being sold out by industry and left to flounder ? What is being promised to make us believe we will not be duped again? I urge my family, my friends to remember our roots, as I do. Call back dignity; it is waiting for you. Our ancestors stood up for better lives; it is our turn. Our People came here to improve the lives of their children and children’s children. How can we continue to destroy their future over transitory “jobs”?

The Earth is worth more than this. We are worth more than this. Wake up. Stand up.

Trust in better ways and find them.

 

 

WOW. I wonder what she would think about the title. LOL.

As a child, I accepted that my Mother would talk to everyone: store clerks, waitresses, bus drivers, etc., as if she knew them. As a teen, I was learning the isolationism and the fear of “other” so I was often embarrassed by her willingness to befriend another human being. Her invitation to people, welcoming them into conversation, was out of place in the world that was becoming ever more fast paced and selective.

Now, especially after my time at Standing Rock, I am realizing she was teaching me to be human, by example – even though I fought it with ignorance and fear.

At Standing Rock one of the sweetest principals shared by Native people was to greet each person as a human being. There is much implied goodness in that. Too often we walk into a room filled with people and do not acknowledge that anyone is there. It is time, my friends, to unlearn the fear of “other”.

My Mom had it right. She was kind to people. Growing up “poor” and mistreated as an immigrant, she resisted doing the same to people that she met. I now look back with pride, smiling to myself as I catch a bit of her in me. Sometimes I find myself falling back on little sayings she used, full of humor and wit. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.

Of course, she had a line she would often say and I witnessed the bite of it throughout my life: “I am as good as gold, but don’t cross me.” A little bit of salt came with the sugar. A bit of protection came with transparency. I suppose that kind of discernment will be needed until we all remember the simple truth: we are one people, one planet. My Mother knew this; she just didn’t have the words for it.

This is the musing that gave way to this post: It is time we counter the fear of other with transparency. Hearts of love show your selves. We got this.

It will be nearly two years since she has been gone. I am still learning, I am still grateful, recognizing this eternal bond of love.

The police and BIA who met me at the Oceti Oyate checkpoint today were friendly. I had prayed to see them as human beings and they made that easy. The Army Corp representative who told me where to park was also kind and I began thinking, “This is going to be OK.”

The People in camp have consistently been kind and the work they are doing to clean the camp is amazing. I know that some of the people have been working day in and out to meet the deadline; they remain in good spirits.

I walked along the mud and ice realizing how much I love this land. I love the smells, the wind, the endless sky and the purposeful reason for its being. My walk grows a bit gentler, my breathing a bit deeper. And then I heard someone singing a Lakota prayer song over a loud speaker. In the midst of seeming chaos, in the midst of horrific doubt about what the next few days will bring, someone was holding us in prayer. I realized that that is the piece the main street media, DAPL, Morton County police, state troopers and the Governor might be missing.

I walked toward the singers, so very grateful that I had the ears and the heart to feel them; then another voice and then another came forward to hold us to the sacred. The beauty of these People continues to touch me. The intolerance that is shown them is painful to witness and impossible to comprehend. I choose to stand with them and try in whatever small way that I can to help.

One way I can help is to stand in my humanity.

I moved away to pick up garbage and a young man came up to me and offered me a pair of plastic gloves to use. I thanked him and continued. A bit later he came back, and we took a moment to learn about one another. In this conversation I realized another important piece that authorities might be overlooking as they amass even more militarized police to prepare for the sweep of the camp that they refuse to deny is coming. The deadline is less than three days away. What I realized in this conversation is simple and human. There are more people in camp than vehicles. Some people are beginning to feel stranded and afraid. Many have left everything to be here. Some are homeless. And they are very aware of the ticking clock…

Towards evening the authorities showed again their intolerance for the beliefs and the dignity of the People here by disrupting a teaching prayer that they had been told would be happening. The escalation of inhumanity is continuing.

To all who wish to tie everything up in a tidy bundle and say, “Let’s get it over with”, I say, “Check your humanity”. The harm we cause will have repercussions – not only to those we harm but also to the ones who are perpetrating the harm. Some of the actions that have been committed here at Standing Rock have left deep and lasting scars. Scars on top of generations of scars; pain on top of generations of pain.

I am asking you my to stay vigilant with us. It appears the internet is not working all that well. You may not get up-to-date information as it happens. Please maintain your prayers and your intention that this stand continues in peace – by all. And please, contact Governor Doug Burgum of North Dakota and let him know you are watching. Ask that he supervise the police and other authorities ensuring that clear heads and calm prevail.

We need you now. Where ever you are. Thank you.

There is a thread of truth in everything. Look for that which is most true.

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If you are feeling sea sick, stop spinning around.

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The Best thing in life is right under your nose…

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I am finally becoming my friend.

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The best way to help any one or any thing is to be at peace.

Today was a beautiful day at Oceti Sakowin Camp. The snow is melting quickly. This photo shows where our winter tent had been. We were able to clean up around the area fulfilling my first obligation to be here. Many familiar faces greeted us. The people worked busily trying to clear the camp with everything available to them. Of the 10,000 people who walked through this camp over the past several months, only a few hundred are here now to restore the natural beauty. Winter, rumors, and fear drove many away. It is hard to hear local media slander the Water Protectors and not report on the stellar effort and commitment that is being made.

When concerns grew today and people moved toward the #1806 bridge to see why police were moving the barricade, people talked to one another in calming voices, offering support to stay peaceful. I was reminded of the dignity and kindness that I witnessed here in months past. They expressed gratitude that the ambulances might be able to move more readily back to town, shaving thirty minutes off the drive. Of course, it would have been helpful had the authorities made contact with the camp before moving the barricades…we still hope and pray for mutual respect.

It had been difficult to be away from this camp over the past few weeks. It was hard to listen to social media feeds and read statements of police harassment, racist profiling, instigated chaos and inhumanity. It was confusing at times. It was disheartening at times. But the prayers and the people standing for the water and for their sovereignty never wavered. A voice would speak out in the darkness, lighting the way. It was not always the same voice. It did not come from one leader, one organization or one tribe. The voice of clarity was carried among many people and continued to guide. And the prayers brought me home again.

My hope to be here is to give support to the clean up. To support those who are facing court cases (please sign and share this petition), and to be witness to the ongoing effort of these very fine people who are battling numerous odds asking for our humanity to be restored and for the water to be protected.

Here is my new podcast site, Humanity Rising, with the first two episodes on the stand at Standing Rock. I hope to add some interviews while I am here.

Oh, and we will be there for Honoring Our Grandmothers, this Saturday, February 18 at Cheyenne River Camp.

I will do my very best to give you the most accurate and updated information daily. Best to you always; keep up the Good Fight. Love wins.

Thank you again Ryan of Standing Rock Rising for the great photo!

 

Calling upon Grandmothers and Grandfathers,

Who risked all that I might be.

Who struggled with sorrow and suffering,

And woke everyday determined to Live.

To the Ones who succeeded to find Peace,

And the Ones who failed in their endeavor.

To those who held onto Love and

Those who surrendered to hatred and fear.

I call upon your strength to keep walking,

upon your losses to teach me, and

upon your wisdom to guide me.

I ask for your courage, that I may not falter.

This is my promise to you, I will do my best,

To hold fast to Life; and not succumb to joylessness.

This is my defiance to ignorance:

To Remember when all is taken or lost,

My heart belongs to Love.

Love is my beginning; it is my end.

My gratitude always.

Thelma and Louise are friends of mine. They have been living at the farm for nearly fourteen years. They are sheep. When they were four months old, I put them in the back of my SUV, looked at them and said, “You must be Thelma and Louise, ‘cause this is your last ride”. Never saw the movie, didn’t have to, everyone tells the ending.

What an amazing journey for a person who grew up across the street from an industrial park and spent twenty-two years in Chicago to have sheep as neighbors. The journey has not been without its harrowing moments. When Thelma got gangrene mastitis the veterinarian who came to check on her said put her down, most don’t survive. Putting down a sheep is done with a gun. By now Thelma had gone through two pregnancies and I had learned the value of keeping family units in tact. It makes for happier sheep and the mamas and grandmas can teach the young ones, making my work a bit easier. Thankfully a wise elder veterinarian told me if you are willing to give her four shots, four times a day for a while, she may survive. I did just that in that bitter cold January with a flashlight in hand until the day she looked at me with those big eyes that said “if you prick me one more time I am going to deck you.” And so I learned. I learned that green grass was all they needed and clean water everyday and that moving them around to cleaner pasture kept them from the worms that cycle every three weeks or so. I learned that there was no need to feed corn; they stay plenty fat and much healthier on grass in summer and hay in winter.

Although they do get a bit of corn in the spring when I cut their wool. I use scissors, because I learned that neither they nor I are happy with tying them up and electric clippers. Oh, and when I learned that Thelma and Louise had their tail bobbed (cut short) I promised them their offspring would never have that happen to them. They need those tails as subsequent lambs have taught me.

With mutual care and love we have carried on. Yes, it has been mutual. These two grandmothers have taught me so much about respect. They have come to me as I cried and have listened to me as I cursed and have helped me to see life’s simplicity just a little more.

So it comes to no surprise that they are still the friskiest, most in your face, ‘I want hay now’ of the lot. Louise must have heard about the buffalo at Standing Rock, because she has taken to this immovable posture when I ask her to leave the hay room. I mean immovable. No matter what I do, no matter what I did in the past that worked, she does not budge. And then I have to laugh. I break down laughing, because I love being shown how ridiculous I am. Of course grandmother, you want to stay and eat some more. Who am I to rush you… so my morning coffee waits a bit and I smile at her determination and grit and know that I recognize in her what is in me.

Thelma has always been a bit more reticent, but none the less determined and she has these eyes that tell you everything her words would if she could. When I come in the late winter to sit with them, getting them used to me being so close and cutting their wool, she is always the first. She comes to me and lets me scratch her neck. As she melts into the feeling, slowly the others come around to see what is happening. She proves to them that it is safe, that I am safe and on we go.

Now there are still a few who are not eager to have their wool cut. And it shows, some with two years of wool and counting…but I am determined to win them over, time and patience permitting. Letting kindness win.

Knowing how I love these friends, you could have knocked me over with a feather to learn that people have been feeding skittles and other left over candies to their cattle instead of corn or hay – for decades. And “science” has concurred that this is ok. My friends, this is not ok. When you abandon your humanity in even the smallest ways, you lose so much. When consciousness and conscience are abandoned, no amount of excuse will bring you peace. If this is the new normal, keep it. I want none of it. How we treat one another and, yes, that includes all of life and all of matter that surrounds us, defines us. You can profess all the faith in the world, but if your heart is full of ignorance your actions will reveal the truth. Find other ways, my friends. Find other ways, but do not sacrifice the gifts of love and kindness and clarity that are your birthright and bring you joy.

That’s all for now, I must go and be with the sheep and Beauty, the mule, who is proving he likes their company and is trying oh, so hard not to have them run away from him. But that is another story.

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Thanks Margaret for the grammar help. Not one of my strengths…

There are many among us who are desperate. This loss of hope has not come on all at once. It has been created drop by drop, over time, sometimes deliberately, always out of ignorance. Despair is the void created by the extraction of all that is good from within us. And if there is an enemy worthy of our battle, this is it. To know the landscape of our soul so well that when an intruder comes, it can be ushered out. That is the vigilance we need right now. Some of us have lost the skill, some have never learned. It is possible to shed hopelessness. It is possible to rekindle the passion of life. We must want it. Longing for peace is the vigilance required.

Despair will collude with itself. Like will follow like. So the first order must be to fulfill our own heart’s longing. Then and only then can we help another.

And if you cannot help another, at least take pause and refrain from adding to the downward spiral that is driving mental illness and suicide to epidemic levels. Every thought, word and deed can add to despair or can halt it. Choose what you will feed.

Despair is emptiness. In can be transformed. We can do this. We must.

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I wrote this piece in response to the number of people, particularly young people, who have been in touch recently and are expressing levels of despair and anxiety that are not normal. We are not designed to contain this kind of darkness. We need to help one another.

Photo compliments of NOHO

what we can do until we try.

Everyday brings challenge. Today the 30 degree temperatures and gentle rain bring on more of the ice that hinders movement. It is easy to ask, “What the hell am I doing here?” but I have learned it is of more benefit to pay attention and to take each step carefully. It is better to breath and keep my body lose, rather than tense up for the fall that may or may not come. It is better to give a chuckle that people actually think there is no such thing as climate change rather than berate them. It is best to take these opportunities of adversity and create ways to make better whatever comes.

The proverbial making lemonade out of lemons doesn’t come out of the air. It comes from human beings who – whatever hand fate has dealt – are able  to keep walking with hope and beauty in their hearts. That is the everyday challenge.

I am learning that I can use everything available to me to make the path safe for me to walk. I have used straw and lime, ash and dung. I have learned that once my footing is secure, then I can think about making others safe. But most of all I allow myself the simple truth that this time will pass and the ice will melt and the grass will replace the bleak winter that has held so much for me to remember and to learn. I will not curse this time, no matter how much I fall. Because it is my time. It will not come again. And what I am learning today will never leave me.

We do not know what we can do until we try.