Another Year Over and a New One Just Begun...

As time goes by the memories are so important. 

Here is a picture from Christmas two years ago and a link to more memories here.

Here are pictures that Shaleen took of Shaan's 4th birthday party.

And, Vicki just posted 75 pictures on Facebook of Ned, Vicki and Shaan.

As soon as I download all the pictures, I'll be able to share those here too.

Finally, since this is the season of giving and of peace.......

Many of you know about my involvement with Uhuru (which means freedom in Swahili) for African self-reliance, which I believe will make a better world.

Uhuru Pies is something that my family participates in every year when I bring the pies to the holiday table. It is a fundraiser to support the African Village Survival Initiative and Uhuru House programs in the U.S. and in West Africa. You can find out more about ordering the pies here. 

If you don't need a pie, you can purchase one to be donated to a holiday meal for families in need in Oakland, San Francisco and Santa Cruz.  If you order one, put my name (Wendy) in the comments, so I get credit. :)

Ned continues to inspire me to stand up for what I believe in in a way that is thoughtful and compassionate. Thanks Ned for helping me do that. I miss you.

Happy Holidays everyone. Wishing you lightness and love during this season.

November 18th

I just replaced the background picture of this blog. I had left the image of Cherry Lake up there for too long and missed seeing Ned's smiling face. 

The sadness that struck me when the small jpeg that I uploaded expanded into an almost life sized image of Ned with Shaan was piercing. The sorrow doesn't lessen with time's solemn march, it almost expands into hidden crevices waiting to escape out into consciousness. 

Here is a poem that I just found on a website about books about grieving:

Sorrow

She rises out of nowhere, like a wave from the sea,
Slowly at first, silently, then crests and peaks;
Still I have a choice
I can turn away, go to work, watch a movie, play a game…

But I know sorrow well.
Though I turn away, she will wait,
perfectly patient,
until I am still,
then crush me with all her accumulated power.

Once I had angry walls to shut her out,
But her incessant pounding tore them down.
So now, when she rises,
I turn to her and say,
Here I am, I know you, sorrow.
She crashes on my shoreline,
And sorrow and I are one
Until, trailing frothy whitecaps,
She sweeps away.

P. G. White

Day of the Dead

Dia de los Muertos is such a beautiful holiday that the indigenous peoples of the so-called Americas  celebrate, taking time to honor the dead and also find humor in life and death.

It is that type of humor that I think will carry us through. It is not the self-centered sadness that presumes that this is not a deeply universal human experience. It is also not just about having fun and dressing up like skeletons, ghouls, witches, mummies and all the various kinds of Halloween costumes. (Although I love Halloween and there's lots more to say about that.)

Since the holiday lasts through November 2nd, more thoughts on Day of the Dead tomorrow, a celebration that thousands of people participate in throughout these lands on tomorrow.

 

A Year and a Half

I am just now getting to this blog post... somehow appropriate since it is now Day of the Dead.

The beauty of blogs are that you can bookmark dates and then write as though you were writing from that date, only at a later date. I have no idea why that is important other than I wouldn't want the 18th to pass by without having written from that vantage point. Strange and stupid, isn't it?

I have had several dreams about my brother. In fact, I woke up on the 18th having a bizarre dream that I was carrying his body on my back. He wasn't alive and had shrunken in size, almost like he was at a younger age in life. His eyes were closed and I was to register his body with some kind of office. This would allow me to carry him around with me and have him close to me.

There was another woman who was also carrying a loved one on her back. We were like medical students studying the dead, only we weren't going to dissect the corpses; we were only to have them close to us and somehow learn from them for a time.

The year and a half felt for me like a milestone of sorts. The first year was definitely the hardest and going into the second year is hard in a different way. There is pressure to be normal in an already abnormal society. There is pressure to move forward in a society that denies death, funds deadly wars and at the same time attempts to deny us the ability to connect with the history that brought us to this present.

This is what we have to take the time to do. This is what will keep us moving forward.

Playtime with Shaan

Got to spend a little time with Shaan.  Bouncing balls. Petting the cat named Boo. Watching him jump into the pool over and over and over. He's coming into his own. Can you see transformation from baby roundness to lean and mature?  

He recently told his mom that he was mad at Dada because he never came back. Vicki explained that he didn't mean to go away and that he would understand when he got older.

This child is wise beyond years and thanks to the bold, strong love that brought him into the world and raised him for the critical first years of the life and the strength, care, love and passion that his mother has so tremendously carried forward through her grief and mourning and through the daily struggles of being a single parent, he will grow into an incredible man like his father. I am so thankful to be a part of it.

We missed our sister this weekend and her family. We missed Grandma too and sometimes I have to remind myself how recent that this monumental loss has been. Our hearts have been torn inside out and yet we carry on sometimes as if life didn't burn and sting us down through our core. 

Thank you Shaan for your incessant energy and lightness that you bring. You propel us forward. Pun intended.

Eagle Poem by Joy Harjo

This poem has been one of my favorite's in the past. 

I went to a Yoga class today (one of my prizes from the Poison Apple Pie benefit) and the breathing and movement in the class reminded me of this poem. Of course, being a person conscious of her relationship as an indigenous to this land, Harjo has a special attention and connection to the earth and its beings.

Here is for  our strong remembrance of  Ned, on the eighteenth of the month, the day (17 months ago) that perhaps he joined the birds in the sky.

Eagle Poem

 

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can't see, can't hear
Can't know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren't always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River.  Circles in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon, within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

 

~ Joy Harjo ~

 

Me and Shaan