Starblanket eBook available now!

Starblanket: A Mother’s Gift to Her Son available at Amazon and Kobo!

What happens when a Mother’s biggest worry is that her son will bear the burden and blame of a society who do not know how to Respect, or Honour Indigenous women?

“Starblanket -A Mother’s Gift to Her Son” – is a collection of stories about Spiritual Awakening, Motherhood and Healing.
When family bonds are grown from traumatic events a child-of-trauma is born. Starblanket follows the journey of an Indigenous woman facing herself as a child-of-trauma and seeking identity, self-respect, and self-love. A single-mother, she struggles to raise her son alone in one of the biggest cities in the world. Her small family faces ever-encroaching societal pressures of Capitalism, Materialism, and Conformity which contradict the Indigenous values she tries to instill.

“Starblanket” honours the Indigenous child and the family as ancient teachings of love and understanding are slowly reclaimed. As the Morningstar guides us from darkness into light, Starblanket guides readers to self awareness, one story at a time.

Print copies available at the Cedar Basket Gift Shop


Sitting here in the dark, shuffling through the many memories. I wonder what to write. Somedays it feels like I’m all tapped out of ideas…just cleaned right out. No wisdom to impart, no observations calling for recognition. Only, life.

I think about all of the billions of thought waves out there, trillions of ideas and conversations being strewn about our universe like so many endless stars…just lighting up the night.

On a night like this, when the moon is nearly full, passioned words and aggrivated assault are on the move. We may say something we don’t mean. Or mean something we do not say.

There is a bit of heaviness in my heart today but not necessarily sadness. It’s been five years today since my mom passed, this year I’d had a lot of dreams about her. Maybe the most poignant was the one where we were happily visiting, chatting over tea in her little apartment. It seemed like nothing untoward had happened. Except near the end of the visit, it dawned on me that it wasn’t real, that she’d passed. I woke up crying that morning. 

Other mornings I would miss her so much, for no reason. I would cry. Feast her and just sit and talk to her over a cup of tea.

That was one of her favorite things, tea. And sewing. The patchwork quilts in my home are getting more and more tattered but I refuse to stop using them. They were made by her, and they still keepus watm and toasty. 

I saw someone today. Someone from my new life, one of the only ones who crossed that invisible line between past and present. Between work and home. He knows my family. He knew my mom, has helped my sister. It was nice to be healing with his help. I had a good morning, and yet, afterward I felt as if I were floating. At least a foot off the ground. Such was the brilliant light and abundance I’d received. I think of my mom and the life she has given me. I have chosen to honour it much more in recent times. To care for my body, to feed my mind, to awaken my spirit. Still, when she comes to visit, standing beside me, hand on my shoulder…sometimes I can almost see her. Smiling at me. 

It’s a beautiful thing this life. I cherish every moment, every recollection. Every instant. They are all so very precious.

Land defender, an honouring of the Sacred

An interesting thing this life. Sometimes I am so awestruck I can only sit in complete wonder at the greatness playing out before me.  So often we struggle against the urging of spirit. Deafened by the multitude of distractions within ourselves and those out in the world. If we just stop and listen a moment. Stop judging everything. This year I had been at my most vulnerable. Stuck. Poverty stricken because my insideous Lion’s pride would not let me slink back into the world on terms that were not my own. I was determined to stay the course that allowed me to feed my family AND do the work of spirit. 

Here I am. Multitude of part time work, and flexibility to go out in the world as myself. Spirituality, Identity, and Culture intact. 

My life has taken a forray into social justice. I am surrounded by teachings and those who dedicate their lives to helping others, support the vulnerable and stand against injustice.

This is an area of my life that has needed life breathed into it. I prayed for abundance. I asked for this…in the multitude of ways. Defined my life by dedicating my actions to Niigaan, Okichitaw, Mnobmaadziwin. My first act as Leader? As Warrior? In protection of the good life? Dive into social activism. Believe me it is an extremely uncomfortable place for my peace-loving passivity. My guides, maybe even my ancestors thought better. I teach about the system and all of the intricacies of the processes at work there…simultaneously I am gaining experiental learning as supporter to new, young, strong willed warriors. Their stength is inspired. I feel out of place. But I sound my voice anyway, because I speak directly to spirit. To Mother Earth, to Gzhe manidoo and the cityscape fades away. 

I hadn’t attended rallies before and rarely joined marches. Most of those were arranged, negotiated, and so beautiful.

There is something to the essence of these young ones coming up. A sort of defiant strength of will, and they KNOW their minds. I admire those who stand up and speak out. Speak with conviction and love for the earth and her children. 

As leaders, often making the difficult decisions. One must not underestimate the value of life, rather it is the  sacredness of ALL of life that must lead us. 

I find myself learning the teachings of leadership, determination, and, peace through the journey of a young man. One that is given life by our relatives across the big water in Japan. Whether these stories are shinobi fairy tales, I find they speak a truth most similar to our history as Anishinabeg of Turtle Island. I read part of a work once that talked about Anishinabe warriors, and the path our young men take. First invited to raiding parties, then sitting at the feet of the bravest warriors to hear about their exploits. To hear their names strike fear in the hearts of those around them. I want to count coo. I want to join the raid. I want to demonstrate my strength of heart, of conviction. Of Akode’ewin Bravery…out there on the front. A strategist. Advisor. Leader, like my Great-great-great grandfather. That conviction lives and breathes in this blood, bone, and in every breath. I cannot live the life of warrior if I stand on the sidelines or by watching from the safety of my home.

My conviction will remind others who they really are…children of the same world, from the same mother. Each of our unique differences making us that much more valuable to one another. 

We must find the way forward. Peer into the souls of our relatives and find the greatest strength, the biggest gifts, the most precious love, and we must make it known to them that they are so very dear to us we would stop at nothing to ensure they have the opportunity to achieve their fullest potential, and shine their brightest, their most brilliant. 

The time of the warrior has returned. If it ever left, those warriors, with their strength of heart and conviction to be the best they can…to bless the world with their love, their kindness, and selflessness. That is what the world needs more of, to share teachings about the Good life, and how everyone of our relatives deserves to partake of that life Ghze manidoo had set us here for. To protect the land for the ones to come. What else is more loving?

On the nature of darkness

I dreamed this morning. A dream that left me cold, shaken, and unsettled. In my dream, I was fending off an intruder. Someone so malevolent, and relentless, all I could do was continue to fight.

I have been observing the commentary of our time. The events in Paris are shaking us to our core. I have also been learning about the nature of such darkness within ourselves. Within the self.

We think we are exempt from the darkness that leaves such devastation. We think we are above it. And yet, darkness also resides within us. Many of us chose not to look. Instead we choose to believe we are without fault. It is easier to believe we are good and just. Yet, where would we be without darkness.

I appreciate the stories that talk about darkness, for we are entering that time where the dark reigns supreme. Darkness reminds us about our strength. It reminds us of our light. As an empath, I can take a lot of abuse. I have taken a lot of abuse at the hands of the narcissist. Forever retracing the steps of the dance. One unable to see their faults, unable to seek out the mirror within, like the painting so coveted by Dorian Gray. The one choosing to see only what he want to see. And blaming the world for cosmic misfortunes and the chaos that surrounds him.

I’ve fallen for the traps, those barbed words that come flying at me that tell me that it is my fault. I believe those words, I take it on, I give those words life and they breathe within me. A power. So gifted by love. A belief that my love will fix everything. That my love can be enough. I can see the true self, beyond the beauty in the painting. I see the monsters hiding within, and I love…even them. In all of their darkness.

I think about this world within worlds. This reality that we create. This reality that we accept as real. And I can see the eternal struggle. The dark and the light. We are all that struggle. The struggle is us. We cannot change that dark one. We can only accept.

Accept that the darkness is. That is all. I see the narcissist and in the midst of fighting the darkness, I added layers, and layers of barriers. I spent so much time protecting myself that I didn’t even realize how much energy I was expending until it was too late. Exhaustion. I had to take them down. Relent. I’d forgotten to let the light in as well. I’d forgotten to rest. I’d forgotten that I am truly loved. Truly, deeply, and more powerfully than I could ever imagine. The light shone so bright that I had to squint. It blotted out everything until all I could do was listen to the hum. That highest vibration and know that I needed no protection. For the light is the purification. It is.

We need not fight. We need only accept. And continue to love. This is how it has always been. This is how it will always be. Some choosing light, others choosing dark. We will never truly be without that ounce of dark, because it is that which reminds us which we have chosen it is the piece of us that keeps it real. It is that which will help me to see, understand, and accept the dark within others and continue to love regardless. There is nothing I can do to change the narcissist. I cannot be all of the love for everyone, but what I can do is connect to the endless love, the enormity of love and stay the course. Forever being grateful the teachings of darkness. If darkness visits my loved ones, I am strongest and able to transform darkness within others. I saw this with my mother, so strong in her love for her children that she bore so much pain, so much abuse, taking it within herself, holding it, and transforming the dark.

I am grateful for the teachings of darkness, and all the while I walk in darkness I thank my grandmother for the burdens I’ve chosen to carry while I am in that grasp. Thank you grandmother. Thank you grandmother. I have been within that unrelenting grip, unable to move. Unable to help myself. Yet, I pray…harder than I’ve ever prayed. With such gratitude. Chimiigwetch. Chimiigwetch. I see grandmother. I see them. Even if they do not. I see them, and yet I love them with your eternal love, with your unending love. And I continue to pray for all of us.

I seek peace. Knowingly. Compassionately. And full of gratitude. It is because of love that there is such transformation. We cannot abandon our love, not for a second. Not for a minute. It is through our love and acceptance that the balance will be restored.


Rite of passage

I’ve been mulling conflict over the last little while. Over the past few years I’ve been learning what it means to be a warrior of peace. It takes discipline, courage, and heart. I set a goal, and I achieved that goal. I’ve set another goal, but this time something seems to be blocking that path.

Something in me, is blocking that path. I’ve talked about a dream. A big one. I’ve cast some initial lines out, and snagged some nibbles. Perhaps I’m waiting for the courage, perhaps I need to learn more.

I’m in a place where I need the guidance and direction of other warriors. In the before time, people may have fostered that warrior spirit in me, from a young age. I may have taken part in the hunt. Perhaps even small raids. Maybe I’ve counted coo.

Standing at the precipice. I see below me, the spoils of war. A long war waged on our people, and the generous spirit of Mother Earth and all of her spirit family. It’s not pretty. I’ve called myself a “survivor by proxy” from the warrior spirit turned inward. I’ve heard the great war stories and exploits of those from the front lines. It sounds grand. It sounds so brave to stand up.

As I stand here in this place, surveying the damage, I encounter some of the wartorn. They are strong, immovable, and nearly unreachable. I wonder why they are so irritable and impatient with me. I have yet to bleed, to bruise. Soft. Their rough exterior are teachings in itself. I am honest in my answers to their questions, and I am denied. I question myself. How can I prove my bravery when my worst stories are brought to bear. These are teachings too. It was not my path. So I was led to another place.

I miss the presence of other warriors. I miss the presence of my aunties, my mother. My grandmother. I miss the presence of women who would teach me how to stand tall, and speak my truth…full, and strong and true. Oftentimes I find myself in a place where it’s still difficult to just get out of bed. I wonder if I am living my purpose.

Do I speak my truth…or do I find a place where fear of reprisal welcomes me into her open arms?

I make so many excuses…still. Am I to be a warrior when I cannot even earn my own trust and respect. To be disciplined. Is there going to become a time when I require mySELF to stand up? Is that the time of the rite of passage that I await?

Do I insist on the approval of others, I’ve always been sheltered. Protected. I’ve run. When do I require myself to make a stand. I watch for that time. I admire so many others who have made those spaces and held their ground. Where will I make my stand.

I stand here watching the war rage on. I’m standing. Contemplating the leap I must make. I must act. I must act, commit fully, and trust myself completely. There are so many battles. I evaluate my strengths, my abilities, my gifts. Where can my actions be most effective. I draw on diplomacy, tact, and negotiation. So many have fallen. Their names an ever present epitiaph. Is this what it feels like to be the young, inexperienced one? Sitting in the firelight listening to the war stories.

What is it to jump into the foray. Inexperienced, reckless, headstrong. Sure to piss people off. How else to distinguish myself from others already on the batle field. If they want to be pissed, let them. Experience is the best teacher. I stand here. Contemplating. Preparing. Calculating. Devising a plan, a strategy. No one else knows my path but me, no one knows my truth but me. I must trust that spirit will guide me forward.

Will I walk into battle armed with strategies, strength, and courage? Or will I use the transformational arsenal at my disposal to avoid outright conflict? This, I see as a rite of passage for the young, inexperienced warrior. Frozen in place. Unable to move…

Praying to Creator for release. For some momentum to propel her forward.

Living together in Harmony

So this week’s post is a little different.
I have had the privilege of spending time with a very brave, very strong Oji-Cree Kwe.
It is interesting these paths we find ourselves on when we give ourselves over to spirit and allow it to lead us forward.
No matter how daring, dangerous, or daunting the task, we move forward always having faith in our higher power to lead us. It is the truest testament to that faith.

Isabel Okanese lives in Victoria, BC. She has traveled for five months, alone, spending her own money and trusting the communities and the people in them to welcome her into their lives, and into their homes so that together, we can all learn what it means to “Live together in Harmony” without lateral violence.
Isabel is walking the talk. With more than half the country at her back, she is nearing the last leg of her trip, the end goal of reaching Halifax, Nova Scotia is nearly in sight.

Her youthful, smiling face, shines. Though Isabel’s story is one of isolation, broken family ties, and struggle that so many of us face in the Indigenous community. The sharing that has revealed itself through her journey seems to be something invaluable. Her story is one that we see more and more often. People rising up out of their everyday lives to take on a journey of epic proportions.
Like so many others criss crossing the country, people like Isabel won’t let the fact that she doesn’t own a car, or a license stop her from taking the journey that spirit has asked her to take. Where there is a will, there is a way.

These are some of the observations I’ve had the opportunity to make, having spent much of the last week in her company. There is a bold streak in her that keeps her going. This journey of hers, “Miyo wichehtowin” – Living in Harmony is sure to bring many people hope and inspiration. To see someone following their dream of close-knit communities supporting one another once again.
Thanks for taking up this responsibility Isabel, we wish you many good miles, smiles and laughter as you share #LateralLove!

Check out EarthTALKER facebook page or scroll down to participate in the #Squares4LateralLove #TorontoFundraiser
and help Isabel reach her goal!

#EarthTALKER is teaming up with #MiyoWichehtowin for #TorontoFundraiser #Squares4LateralLove in support of Isabel Okanese’s Miyo-Wichehtowin -Living in Harmony together
Buy a square for $5.00ea. Choose your number 1-100.
Numbers are First Come, First Served. Two boards, two chances to win $250.00 if all squares are sold!

Cash in-person or electronic payments via etransfer accepted!
Post your number choices in the comments below!

Draw is on November 3, 2015 or when all squares are sold!
Fundraising goal: $1200.00 by Nov 3, 2015

To support Miyo-wichehtowin – Living in Harmony together
Isabel Okanese, President’s Choice Financial

Isabel’s upcoming stops:
Curve Lake Wednesday, Oct 28
Montreal Thursday, Oct 29
Kahnawake Friday, Oct 30
Halifax Nov 3
#LateralLove #miyowichehtowin #LivingInHarmonyTogether #IsabelOkanese #Okanese #Love


Dear Big Sister

Dear Little sister,

I want to share every ounce of wisdom with you that I can muster. I would say how much I wish we had spent more time together growing up. How much closer I wanted to be, and how badly I wanted to be the big sister you never had.

Dear Big sister,

I want to thank you for not really being there. I know you had your own stuff to do, so that kept you busy and away from the house. I wanted you to know that time we spent together, however brief it is meant a lot to me…you realized I wasn’t the person you thought I was. I really liked that. Thank you.

I know I never had anyone to share with me the big sister things, like what my body would go through when I entered Puberty, and I never really had anyone to share with me the experiences of heartbreak, so that when it came time for me to learn, I learned the hard way.

I know we aren’t very close now big sister, and sometimes the little girl in me gets so scared to reach out to you. It was tough, growing up feeling all alone. Even though I know I wasn’t. That feeling sometimes smothers me now. I see you, and my other siblings so rough and tough and able to take care of yourselves and I wonder when I get to be tough too.

I want you to know that even though we are not very close, I am watching you closely even from afar and am so proud to see all you have accomplished. To see your children growing up strong and healthy. Even if we aren’t meant to be sisters in this lifetime, I’m glad we share the same blood, because the great things in you, also flow through me as well. I’m glad for the memories we share of our short time together. I’m so grateful to be able to say that I have a sister.

I pray for you and our family each and every day. I think about all of our nieces and nephews growing up, and I’m hoping their lives are full to the brim of light, love, and laughter. Even if we don’t know how to care for one another, at least we can teach our children how to be caring and be there for the other. So, dear sister. Even though we are miles apart, never feel alone, or lost…because many of the things you are thinking…are going through my mind as well…

And, big sister, one day…maybe I’ll have the courage to say what is in my heart…maybe I’ll have the courage to tell you how much I want to be just like you. Strong, and outspoken. Someone who protects the ones she cares about. I understand why things are the way they are.

I watch other families, with their family gatherings and observe the family photos and watch us all make different footsteps withour own families. Maybe that’s enough. I think about the rolemodels we had, and how we have to be strong to be the people we never saw. We are walking a different path, and maybe just seeing one another reminds us of that painful past.

So, my dear sister. my strong, sister standing tall and using every ounce of strength to be the pillar you are needed to be. The pillar that holds your family together, for the young ones coming. I know your work is great, I know your work is powerful. So, I am grateful for the memories, and time spent together, however short that may be. Those are the memories that will carry me through this life…and the one beyond. Just having the privilege to call you sister, is more than enough…

Silent fears and angst

A term that came to me today while I sat mulling tonight’s topic is “Suvivor by proxy“, here is a link describing it.

What is interesting about this, is that some of the learning that I’m doing on the job and in community, seems to be allowing these things to surface.
in my experience, what happens in an abusive home is this strange silence that descends. No one talks about the abuse while it is happening, or rather acknowledges it outright. At least not in an open and honest way. There is an overriding atmosphere of fear and apprehension. Angst.
I’m feeling those this surface again, not because I am being abused or in an abusive situation, but because those foundations have settled in.
Everyday frustrations with a teenager give rise to angry mom feelings and I yell. Ultimately I feel very much like an abuser because of my outburst. Guilty remorse. Apologies and the cycle starts over.

It is difficult for me to tell if I am subject to abusive tendencies because of the survivor by proxy, or if I perpetuate because the foundation has been laid. Sometimes I notice childish tendencies. In me.
I want what I want. Childish temper tantrums. I want to grow up. NEED to grow up now. Until very recently I haven’t known how to allow myself the space to express anger in a safe manner.

Light path has led me to work where anti-oppression and decolonizing minds will hold accountability in place…while I grow.
I know I’m in that fear space again when I do my best and feel inadequate simply because its a new situation. Going out of my comfort zone makes me feel a little helpless, and angsty. I trod on, carefully.
I feel very much like I’m doing something wrong when I am unsure if I am doing something the right way. When do I ask questions? What questions do I ask?
The interesting thing about these new revelations is that I am aware of how very difficult it can be for survivors of violence and abuse to ASK for help.
There is this rabid wariness that ensues. Perhaps I’m waiting for the retaliation to come. Oh. Yep. Right there…
I can tell by the way I’m feeling as I write that…healing…another inch toward healing. It is good, this learning.

I watch my son play his videogames sometimes. The people on there sometimes often seem rough with one another. It seems that you need a good arsenal of “comebacks” to zing someone who tries to rough you up.
I’ve always just taken the abuse. Not knowing what to say or how to respond. Often I would say nothing because I didn’t want to draw attention.
It has always been very difficult to say how I feel or to let my truth speak. I’ve always censored myself. It’s getting better, now at least I can speak out some of the time.
Yet, those survivor by proxy shadows haunt me. All I can do is stay alert, and aware.

I can’t rememeber the key words i searched once but I found a great list of terms that Abusers use to control those around them. When I find it I will post it. Acknowledging those tendencies to oppress was very humbling but important to understand. Acknowledging and being willing to change is the greatest gift to loved ones. For a healthy, and happy family circle. Be willing to be the change you want to see, and live the life survivor free…to just live life as a human being.

Diary of a contemporary

Life is about learning and beginning the path to achieving our greatest potential. That being said, life is about to get very busy. I hope I can stay connected.
Embarking on the journey I have, there are many avenues available to me. The trick is to choose the path that aligns with my abilities and expertise.
Or at least, let it choose me.

I have been mulling over this idea about leadership and understanding this path I am walking as knowledge keeper. Finding teachers, and doing ceremony. Lately, I keep coming back to the idea that during the early days of colonization the people were losing faith in our spiritualists because no matter what medicines and prayers were sent out the onslaught kept coming.
The people turned their backs on our spiritual leaders. At least that is one perspective.
There is so much going on within our communities. The greater society of Canada seems to be looking to Indigenous peoples as stewards. Always so preoccupied with what we are doing, telling us what we should be doing, influencing the very fabric of our lives. It it so difficult to see the path ahead? Perhaps it is.

Is it not like the blind leading the blind? With many of our Elders passing away the rest of us having identity crises, doing the best we can to heal colonial scars AND having to pick the rest of Canada up as well?
Is there common sense? Some discipline?
I walk out my door and am confronted with the pure entitlement everywhere. People using electric leaf blowers instead of a rake, people growing useless grass instead of food gardens, people using water hoses to clean their side walks of dirt rather than use a broom. Still others, the single occupancy vehicles that line our roadways endlessly.
I am not free from judgment. i am not free from entitlement or failed discipline.
There are responsibilities that I waffle on. Others, that I avoid all together simply because it’s easier to avoid than take them on.
I’m human. It won’t be long before I decide that discipline is the way forward. For now, I allow. I will learn the hard way…again. Once again.

I wasn’t raised with my culture, or my traditions…but spirit leads the way…it always has. It isn’t until lately that I started believing in my path. The one set before me by my name…
That is life I lead as a contemporary. While much of our knowledge has been lost, we continue to be guided by spirit and we will never go wrong. Not with our ancestors guiding us. I know that as a decendant of the signor of the Robinson Huron Treaty, I must learn the contents of the treaty and understand my responsibilities to my people. Then I must understand my responsibility to my treaty partners.

As a community we’ve tried to hold our treaty partners responsible for honouring their agreements to us. Agreements they’ve broken time and time again. When do we get to be responsible for ourselves? Instead of wasting all of our energies on holding a nation accountable, one that could care less for our people?

I wonder when people will discover that the Indian Act was a policy derived through war measures. That the very police that are supposed to serve and protect, are the very ones that were charges to search and destroy our people. Just because we think we are supposed to be part of the wider Canadian fabric doesn’t mean we are.

It doesn’t mean we are protected as equals. Not when everyone still thinks we are a useless drain on the economy…even though our collective actions to care for ourselves continues to be meddled with by a government that does not own up to its treaty obligations but is more than willing to point the finger.

We were once strong, self determining nations. Politically sound, sovereign nations enetering into treaty agreements. We are good enough to enter into treaty agreements but not good enough to provide for our own? Not when every attempt to continue to provide for ourselves was circumvented by racist, controlling, paternal policies designed to eradicate our Anishinabek confederacy and our way of life.

Life as a contemporary means unlearning the need to ask permission. It means doing what is necessary for the health and well being of our people, despite the misgivings and fear of our nieghbours. If you don’t understand, if you are afraid of the unknown…too bad. Deal with it. We’ve waited too long for you to decide we are worthy treaty partners. The thing about alliances and Federations, is that allies agree to lead together. Neither shall try to rule the other. Each ally shall be responsible for their own community. At least that was the princple that the treaties were made under. We’ve shared the resources of this land…and expected to be left in peace to live our lives as we sought fit. On the lands that often (not always) we chose for ourselves. In exchange for sharing territory, we were to exchange knowledges so that we would grow and prosper together.
I guess the moral of THAT story is to be careful what you ask for…our treaty partner provided education alright, they taught us about genocide, and selfishness.

We know our responsibilites…they are to our first mother, our ultimate responsibility to care for these lands and ensure they continue to provide.
To use the tools and medicines that have been gifted to us and to always be grateful for everything we have been gifted.
We maintain our responsibilites to the great kind mystery, even as contemporaries…for Indigenous thought exists, Anishinawbek thought exists because we do. It is neither right nor wrong. Pure nor diluted. It just is.


i sit here in a darkened room, and I think back on life. I reflect on all of the parts of me surfacing. These pieces of my shadow being seek to show me all of the excuses. I hear all of the lies, the deception, the negativity pour out of that still one. The one that has watched me from the dark. The spiteful one.

The childish, controling one. She had so many reasons, endless reasons for me NOT to try new things. So many reasons to shut me away. To shut me up. To silence me. Always keeping me under her thumb. It wasn’t fair.

Why must I watch from the sidelines. Always the sidelines.

It was an inheritance you see. This shadow being. Something that was gifted. The endless struggle to survive always brings us more challenge that we bargain for. Addictive personalities must always be on guard for the tendrils reaching out from the void. The tendrils that will pull them back into the forray. Deep inside the binge. Avoidance, denial. Hide behind the same excuses. It is far more deceptive when you can’t tell you’ve gone off the path again.

I always have to be on guard. Sometimes the depression is so great. I just can’t get out of bed…hours go by, and I watch my life from beneath the covers. This inheritance, from parents with addictive personalities. Except, I know what challenges face me and still I hide. I am aware of the challenge…avoidance becomes a choice.

Avoidance becomes a choice until you decide to fight. That determination, is also a gift. A gift of resiliency. Somewhere deep inside the addict is the light. We must have the courage to seek it out, and open our hearts to it. Simple abundance. We must have the courage to try. We must have the courage to fail. And when we do, we must have the courage to try again. And keep trying. And keep trying. Each time we try, we gain a little of ourselves back.

We find ourselves a little more.

Tonight, I reflected on all that I used to deny my own responsibilites. All of the intricacies I use to avoid asking for help. All of the ways I control, and…once again, confronted her. Once again, loved her. Thanked her for being there through the struggle. Once again pledged to step up.

I will fall again.

I know it. But I also know that I will never stop trying. I will never give up. It is my inheritance, and I will honour that…truly. Each time, being true to me, and loving myself every step of the way…

Motivate me

Old habits die hard. It doesn’t take long for beliefs and attachments to take hold. When they do, the spiral begins.
I watched some motivational videos today. I was reminded that no matter what happens you are the one that MUST stay solid. As a would-be entrepreneur I find that motivation by means other than material wealth is necessary.
It is difficult for me to believe that I can support my family by acquiring material wealth. Ultimately, at my core, I know this is not who I am, and I cannot allow material wealth to change me.
Simple abundance must be what leads me forward. I have found it difficult to equate material wealth with abundance. There is some internal blockage cause by an overriding faith in the teachings of my people. The Creator has given us everything we need and our responsibility is to look after our Mother the Earth. Only in contemporary life, there is a strange structure in place that prevents us from taking part of the abundance in front of us.
I seem to have followed this path, this belief that monetary wealth is corrupting, nearly to the destruction of my family. I wondered why I would block abundance to the detriment of myself and those close to me.
I have learned that ultimately we all suffer, when we allow the most vulnerable to go without.
As a single mother, I have learned so much about keeping my faith. In the past, families would look after one another, children would be cared for by aunts and uncles. Everyone would have a place to live. Everyone would be able to eat because we shared with those in need.
This society is so dis-eased…that when someone is suffering, most of us walk by them on the street and call them lazy. We tell them to get a job. Perhaps it makes us feel better about ourselves.
I wonder how I can reconcile this deep and unwavering idea of kindness and generosity.
The kindness and generosity of Mother Earth, that everyone has the birthright to partake of her abundance.
We do not have the right to stand between another and that generosity. Her safety and well-being is of the utmost importance. I have to believe that as people, as human beings we can evolve beyond external gratification. Beyond external acceptance and beyond oppression.
I have to believe that one day leaders will understand that empowering their people to their highest potential, for the greatest good is the way forward. The way to peace and enlightenment.
Some days I let the trivial beliefs get in the way. Somedays I allow myself to believe that no one cares to learn. Sometimes I allow myself to believe that I have nothing to offer, and that the ways of my people are gone.
It is within these days that my self discipline, my will to live out my desires, to achieve my highest potential are at the lowest low.
I reached out in this space, asking for motivation, asking for help…and was answered by a deafening silence. You see, I was relying on that which is outside of myself.
I am reminded that I have me. So today, I searched for that motivation. I searched for my highest self…It will take some work to continue to struggle for balance. To remind myself why I am here. To remind myself to believe.
I must be the one who believes in myself. I must be the one who knows and who holds unwavering faith in myself and my abilities. I MUST push myself harder than I’ve ever pushed before.
I must be the unequivocal motivation, because I am the only one who knows what I can do. I am the only one who will filfill MY dreams.
Sometimes I wonder how to embody the generosity of my people while looking after my family…but I continue to pray, asking for guidance and direction. Eventually the answers will come…in the meantime, I motivate me.