I Can Hear You

Alamikos (Abenaki): Greetings Maker Moon

I felt this moon coming for a few days. I don’t know how to describe it, except as a swelling hum inside me, stronger than I remember ever feeling it. Finally I heard that it was the brightest clearest full moon of the year.

Northern Arapaho: When the snow blows like spirits in the wind.

Yesterday I stayed in all day, loose ends of schoolwork, spent a long time in my picture books, and found myself motivated to do a bunch of sprucing. I got a Brita, so water flows freely now rather than bottle by bottle. I cleaned and remade the dolmen, above which I hung Mom’s alphabet she stitched for me when I was a baby. I took care of my plants, moving grown ones into bigger containers, and hung a paper lantern outside the window that dances happily every time the train rolls by. It sounds small, in words, but it refreshed the whole energy of my place.

I finished a novel whose end just utterly destroyed me. Maybe it was only a catalyst for emotion I’d felt swirling around without an outlet for days…but:

“I come from a place where breath, eyes, and memory are one, a place from which you carry your past like the hair on your head. Where women return to their children as butterflies or as tears in the eyes of the statues that their daughters pray to. My mother was as brave as stars at dawn. She too was from this place. My mother was like that woman who could never bleed and then could never stop bleeding, the one who gave in to her pain, to live as a butterfly. Yes, my mother was like me.”

It goes on, but as you can see, that’s quite a catalyst.

And I cried as hard as I ever have, cried like I did a year ago, cried so much there were no more tears and my body just clenched and clenched, kept crying and there were tears again and all of me was drenched in them…my brother came to the door holding a large pizza, and with the other arm he gathered me in and hugged me into my body again, and his eyes were very bright.

PAAMUYA (Hopi): Month of Life at it’s Height

This morning, I dreamed:

Amy is gone, as in death, but I know I will meet her again in this world, she will come back, although it will take a long time. I talk with Ali, who regrets that she couldn’t meet her.

Dad dies. Mom says we need to call Uncle John, that it’s been a few days and it’s normal not to think of him because he’s not been very involved with us, but still it’s time to call and tell him. I see Dad, alive, and I hug him. As he holds me I remember the sheer warm comforting size of him, his strength and love wrapped around me safe.

I go out front to take a phone call. It’s John Cleese. He introduces himself, “This is Monty Python,” which is a radio show he says I might be familiar with. I tell him that I’m actually in L.A. now, and as I look out over the hills and houses below I can hear his voice as its vibrations and radio waves move through the air above the city, whose currents I can almost see. “I can hear you,” I say, meaning not through the phone but directly, his voice in the air in my ears. He tells me to say it again. I do — “I can hear you.” “Louder,” he prompts. “I can hear you!” I yell, loud, aware of how my voice flies out and joins the air currents of sound waves. “Louder!” He yells. “I CAN HEAR YOU!!” I bellow, as loud as I can make my voice, thinking all the while that it’s not very loud, but it’s as loud as I can, I can feel my throat strain. It’s very helpful for me and for John. I tell him about my people dying. He says kind soft words. I tell him I’m glad I took his random call.

Mom’s gone now, too. For a while I wander in this building, feelings of disorientation and loss but also knowing and love. I can’t do much else but this. We crouch low to the ground as Kristin holds me while I cry and cry. I say, “All my people are gone, there’s no one to hold me.” She says, softly and with heartfelt love, “Shut up.”

mkokisis (potawatomi): month of the bear

Bear images have indeed come up. Not the least of which is Mom’s turquoise Bear Medicine pouch from Arizona. This isn’t really when they come out, so it makes me wonder why this should be month of the bear…or “bear hunting month” as another name put it. Maybe they would find the dens and kill em in their sleep. Doesn’t seem very sporting. Maybe because all the people were scrawny and hungry, while the bears slept warm and were nourished off their own body.


~ by Arrrow Marie on January 30, 2010.

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