Native American culture & teachings through a modern lens

Tag: American Indian Culture

T’áá hwó’ ají t’éego…It is up to You

I have missed writing.
T’áá hwó’ ají t’éego.
It hurts to write. Like the struggle of returning to my running practice a couple of weeks ago. My body is not used to sitting to type. I have grown accustomed to writing for myself. My mind does not want to focus on one thought. It has grown comfortable of the flow of the pen as it writes in my journal meandering across the page.

 
T’áá hwó’ ají t’éego.
I took a break. Walked around the living room. Drank water. Bounced on my trampoline. This part of my day is one of my favorites. I love the freedom of jumping on this contraption. It has quelled nerves, relieved stress, calmed anger and conspired with me to procrastinate as I avoid words longing to be written.

 
T’áá hwó’ ají t’éego.
This phrase is one which echoes in my head repeatedly throughout the week. Sometimes it is a whisper, sometimes it is a loud booming voice reminiscent of my late Nalí Hastiin’s. His favorite phrase, “If it is to be, it is up to me,” mirrors these words. T’áá hwó’ ají t’éego instructs “it is all up to your effort and hard work and determination.” Both phrases remind me how powerful each of us. The phrases iterate a theme of agency and self-determination.

 
I will be marking a year since I moved from Phoenix, and this life I live is a manifestation of t’áá hwó’ ají t’éego. I don’t know all the ways I have changed but I can feel I am a different person than I was a year ago. I am so grateful for all the ways I have been lead to this beautiful place in this Glittering World.
I have been challenged to examine my scars and fear, pushed to heal and grow. I have spent time deep in prayer and meditation and lately been thinking about what is possible when we “stay open” to the world around us.

 
Today I recognize how my decision to leave my job and pursue this journey allowed me to reconnect to myself, my culture, my history and the world. Writing this feels different as I try to compose a post as though I am writing to a dear friend in the middle of a long journey; even though I still haven’t made sense of all the events nor feel I have reached the destination. Simultaneously, I write as though I am providing a kind of performance in this correspondence as though to distract you from noticing how much time has actually passed between our visits or letters.

 

T’áá hwó’ ají t’éego.
One of the first poets I met when I was younger was Dorothy Allison. She wrote a book entitled, “Two or Three Things I Know for Sure” and since meeting her, I often motivate myself by noting two or three things I know for sure. Today I recognize: 1) My life, and its ability to be of service to others is up to me. 2) This is the instruction I am pushed to live out every day. I choose to autonomy, action, love and respect. I write these words as an offering, I act each day to be of service to this energy in the spirit of K’é.

And to you my dear friend, it is so good to see you again. Remember, t’áá hwó’ ají t’éego…live out your best effort.

Hello Spring

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I vibe at those higher frequencies…

Where love meets light, where spring renews

and is reborn in the cool breeze, in the fire of the ocotillo blooms…

In the place where the sun shines,

at the point of the season’s change

there is the heart of my vibration,

dancing like a hummingbird.

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Sending each of you positive thoughts, love & light as you start this new season. Spring is the time for renewing, replenishing and nourishing the crops we’ve planted.

What seeds have you planted in your soul and what do they need to bloom?

Yá’at’eeh Dąą/Hello Spring!

 

Dear Girl-Made-of-Honey

Dear Girl-Made-of-Honey,

Please remember everyone will be drawn to the vivacity of your sweetness. Take note of who loves you without wanting more than you can be. Remember, especially, the ones who know you are still growing and leave room for you to be all your beautiful forms at once, as you choose.

Dear Girl-Made-of-Honey,

Watch for those whose words align so beautifully with their actions that you lose track of what is said and what is done because the lines of distinction have been erased with intention, attention and devotion.

Dear Girl-Made-of-Honey,

Live your promise to be the giant of your dreams, the queen who is king, never bowing down, submitting to anything less than you deserve.

Dear Girl-Made-of-Honey,

Your light can brighten the darkest places but don’t fear reaching out for a hand to hold. It’s in the darkness where touch can feel the warmest, where kisses can go deep and love of your true self can reach back into the cave within.

Dear Girl-Made-of-Honey,

Remember you come from the heavens. You are not solely stardust but the core of its brightness, your shine will at times be too bright for those around you. Look for the ones who instead of walking away or turn their back on you, sit in your presence with heart-shaped sunglasses so they can continue to stand in your love light.

Dear Girl-Made-of-Honey,

You are the goodness of the nectar, the sweetness of the fruit, the genesis of the bloom…you, dearheart, are a gift, hold that truth close.

Dear Girl-Made-of-Honey,

Remember you are beautiful and are the strength of your people, your mother, her mother and her mother. You are the pulse of a bloodline that traces the circle we walk around the fire in the Hogan. You are the antidote, the medicine that cures.

Dear Girl-Made-of-Honey,

You are a vision prayed into existence, the gift to a people, the leader of the next generation, a vessel of solutions to your people’s heartache. Continue to shine your prismatic rays as you uncover the treasure in the womb of your soul.

Dear Girl-Made-of-Honey,

You are not simply a universe…your existence is the past, present and future. You are a resilient multiverse brimming with the light of millions of ancestors and descendants. So rest in the simplicity of your greatness knowing deep within you there is only complexity of the love of the people you are from.

Shíkeyáh, My Love

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My people came from the earth and because of this, I believe, every story I have ever been told by my parents, grandparents, aunties or uncles, always starts with place. There is always a reference to a specific point in the land to set a story. Whether it’s where a family lives, “Remember where the Kinsels home is? The ridge there…” “Remember the mountain from the stories about the Diyin Diné (Holy People) and how Ma’ii (Coyote) wasn’t supposed to climb the hill? That is the hill.”

Some of my favorite conversations are ones that have happened as I have traveled across my homelands. From early morning discussions shared while commuting with my dad to late night drives with my mom returning from town. The land I come from is the not necessarily the backdrop but is me, the heroine in the story, the temple where my story and my people’s story is written.

I’ve danced across the earth. I’ve played in the dirt. When I was home for Christmas, I woke to a snow draped landscape. Waking up with my family and striping down to little cloths so I could take a bath in the first snow I was home to enjoy. All in an effort to bless myself with a life that leads into “old age”.

I believe I can feel the power of the earth move in me. I can feel the stars’ energy and the lunar shifts in my life. I was taught to be humble. To understand my place in the world. But tonight when I think of the beauty of this winter, the lessons the cold air is teaching me each time it washes over me, I don’t feel small, I feel I am giant.

When I was home in the snow at Christmas and my bare feet began to ache from the shivering cold of the snow underneath me, I felt strong. When I watch a sunrise and see the genesis of the day the Holy People are creating I can feel my ancestors.

I think often of my great-great-great grandmother who was removed from our homelands during The Long Walk, the government’s forcible removal of my people and imprisonment at Hweeldi (Place of Suffering) or Ft. Sumner in New Mexico. I think of her escaping this horrific place and her journey home. I wonder what it must have felt like to see the land again. I ponder how it compares to the joy I feel when I return to Diné Bikeyáh every month.

My day dreams while I am in the city are of the places my heart has found solace in from mountains to springs and washes where flowing water runs. All of these memories are my fuel. Touchstones that create motivation for me to grow, touchstones to help me own my power as an asdzaan Diné (Navajo lady).

For Diné (Navajo) people pride is not a characteristic that is encouraged. But when I think about what has created me. It is the land. I am the red sandstone formations, I am mountains I have hiked, camped and played in. I am the stars’ brilliance, the moon’s shine. I am sunrays that spill through the clouds during every season of the year. So I don’t ever feel insignificant because I come from a people who have learned the sacredness of the earth, the blessedness of the heavens and the medicines of the land.

The feeling I harness most as I reflect on these teachings is pride. It is not boastful but it is a whisper. Like the small voice I use in the morning when I pray at dawn. The quietness of my breath as I wait for the sun to kiss the land goodbye at night. It is that quiver of pride that I hold because it is one grounded in respect for the small amount of teachings I hold and the vast amount of curiosity I try to not to let overwhelm me because there are still so many things I do not yet know. So tonight as I go to bed I will think, dream of shíkeyáh (my land), my love, and pray for more clarity and strength. I will ask with a humble heart that I can continue to have more conversations with sunrises, serenades in my favorite places and offer prayers out of respect for the grandeur of place that is the beginning, middle and end of my story.