Native American culture & teachings through a modern lens

Tag: lifestyle

I Tell Navajo Stories…Like Grandma

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Photo by Hannah Manuelito

 

I come from an open-arms people and a family who shares. I have built a career sharing my thoughts, poems, snapshots of my life and myself. But last year, I felt a call to shift into a new way of being. 2018 was a year filled with many life changes both personal and professional. While, I was focused on navigating, reflecting and rising to the challenge of being more in the moment, I was called to go inward and protect…myself.

 
Now feeling able and willing, I am trying to answer this question, “how do you begin to tell a story you are still living out?” I am not sure. Though I do know I was never a linear storyteller. I pride myself on my ability, or gift, depending on the tale, to tell story like my late nalí asdzaan (paternal grandmother). She would weave strands of background info, context and opinion together with care and ease. While I am not the master she was at this, I do enjoy this circular nature of sharing. This is something my husband tells me often, I tell Navajo stories. By this he means, I share stories which unfold sometimes leaving him confused until the end. I loved to think of my nalí asdzaan’s stories as ones you had to earn. You were tested to listen because sometimes they were long and often complex. She would share with you characters and updates in multiple threads drawing family trees and maps connecting communities across the rez.

 
And what of my story? Where do I begin?

 
When my nalí asdzaan passed, one of the most vivid memories I have of that night is waking up after receiving the news she left us gasping for air asking myself what would I do on my wedding day and the day I gave birth?

 
In the darkness of those early morning hours, the thought of facing each event without her, physically hurt my heart. But what I know now is I didn’t have to worry because I would feel her. She would be there, and so would my late nalí hastiin (paternal grandfather). I would feel their power charge through the day I saw my husband Warren ride into our homestead on a horse for our wedding. I would feel the energy of my ancestors come to bless our beginning as husband and wife, in the powerful winds that carried sands that whipped across the land.

 
She would be with me as I carried our first born in my body. I would hear her in the wisdom my mother shared with me during my pregnancy. In the advice my mother-in-law passed on to me. I would feel her in my sister’s hands as she massaged my body during labor. I would hear her words in the prayers my brother shared while we were in the delivery room. Even in the pain of this moment I could feel the sweet like honey presence – I could feel her with me. I could feel her blessings at work in my life.

 
While I do not know how to tell this story, I recognize why I wanted to keep things close. Last year meant so much to me because I was able to hold it with both hands, an open mind and heart overflowing with gratitude for getting to experience it all. My husband and I marinated in each transition – engagement, new job, news of new life, wedding and birth. Having emerged from our fourth trimester I feel ready to slowly release parts of this story, as an offering. I hope in beginning to tell it, the parts that were hard can begin to heal. This part of my story – the trauma – is hard for me to articulate now but I know with time, even that will begin to melt away like snow.

 
What is powerful is knowing because I am still living this, I don’t have to share everything now. I want the telling of this story to be savored. In the same way, this revealed itself to us – day by day, minute by minute waiting for the arrival our baby being…our son.

Sacred Journeys

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The Grownup Navajo community has continued to connect and power our community to new levels. Through multiple events and publishing of more and more vlogs, I have met more of you. Inspired by your energy I am starting a new adventure, read more about it HERE. In celebration of this new change, I am hosting a special event.

We are gathering in celebration of the journeys in sacredness we travel. Each one of us journeys on various paths each day. These movements are filled with connection and opportunities to reach, grow and thrive. In these mindset I invite you to join Grownup Navajo, DiRTYOGA and Tony Duncan for a unique event of poetry, flow yoga & flute music. 

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Saturday, January 28, 2017, take part in a special yoga session aimed at sharing the power of sacredness through creative flow. Grownup Navajo will share her poetry to the tune of award-winning musician, Tony Duncan’s flute, while the owners of DiRTYOGA will lead a session of rejuvenating flow.

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10-11:15am                     Flow Yoga + Flute + Poetry

11:15am – 12pm             Social 

Uptown Farmers Market – Phoenix, AZ

This session is FREE WITH DONATION of five non-perishable items. All donations will be collected and given to St. Mary’s Food Bank.

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Appreciating the Diné New Year & Seasons Change

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Ghąąjį’ bee nínáánááhai (It is the new year again with the mid-season)!

To mark the spirit of the season in the Diné (Navajo) calendar Grownup Navajo is hosting an inaugural event in appreciation of this time of year, TONIGHT, October 27, 2016.

We are holding a gathering to appreciate the Diné New Year and the seasons change. There will be a K’é (kinship) mixer, celebration, blessing and action.

I am so grateful for the generosity of our host venue, K’é and owner Pam Slim and her family who have been great supporters of Grownup Navajo. I am giddy at the thought of everyone sharing in kinship in their beautiful space.image

This month, Grownup Navajo also celebrates its fourth blogiversary, so we’ll have door prizes to share the love light! I am sending my gratitude to Beyond Buckskin Boutique, Rezonate Art, OXDX Clothing, First Nations artists Aura Last for their contributions of door prizes for both the in-person event and online contest happening now.

 

Also included in the festivities is a select number of Native creatives, sharing their work Nanibaa Beck of Notabove Jewelry will be sharing a showcase of her work along with pieces newly created! Kelvin Long the owner of Yeego Coffee will also be sharing delicious gowééh (coffee).

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As I have been sharing, Grownup Navajo has truly become a community and hosting this event will make that connection tangible. I am so eager to meet more of you and look forward to the fun we will have as we gather in – Ghąąjį’ baa ahxééh hwiindzin/appreciating the new year and seasons change!

 

 

 

 

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Event Details

October 27, 2016

6:30-8:30pm

K’é – 125 West Main Street

In Downtown Mesa, AZ

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In My Father’s Land

I entered this world through my mother but it is in my father’s land I live and call home. A place called Round Rock, a very small community in the heart of Diné Bikeyáh (Navajoland) in northeastern Arizona. This is the place where I grew up and lived when I was small. The place of many adventures in the iconic red dirt. I spent countless days with my late Nalís at their homestead and eventually had my Kinaaldás there.

My late Nalí with Round Rock in the distance.

My late Nalí with Round Rock in the distance.

People talk about the beauty of Navajo culture being found in the matriarchal structure without distinguishing the significant role men play in our society. In the book, Blood and Voice the author discusses the differences between the two as falling with the changes which happen to both the female and male bodies. Women have their menstrual period and men’s voices change when they enter puberty.

These two changes are critical to the longevity and continuance of Navajo society without women changing we would not be able to carry on the bloodline of our people. Men’s voices are necessary as they traditionally were the medicine men – they sung the songs of prayer in our ceremonies, they have the power to heal our people’s ailments. They are necessary to maintain Hozhó, the balance and harmony in our society.

Turquoise is a very sacred stone to Navajo people. I was taught to wear turquoise everyday as a form of protection. In Navajo we pray not only to Mother Earth but also to Father Sky. These beings are interdependent as we cannot have one without the other. Turquoise is worn to honor the men, to remind us we have both a male and a female side in us we must respect.

I have been shaped by the men in my life as much as the women. I am a young woman who proudly calls herself a daddy’s girl. My dad is the person I turn to when my heart and spirit is broken but also when I need to be inspired or pushed harder. It was my dad who molded me during my Kinaaldás. My wit and ability to keep up with the guys’ is due impart to my brothers who incessantly tease and joke with me. Growing up I took care of them but today more and more they carry me and my spirit when I doubt my own strength.

My late Cheí (maternal grandfather) was someone I only met once before his passed away suddenly, I do not remember this but my mom tells me he said I was such a beautiful baby girl. I know him only through stories and pictures but I dream about him and hope he is proud of the person I have become. My late Nalí Hastiin (paternal granddad) taught me two very important lessons with the way he lived his life – to love unconditionally and to fight. To fight for myself, my heart and my people. A quote he would recite often was, “If it is to be, it is up to me.” I love this quote and try to live my life by it as it challenges me to a sense of agency, it’s filled with civic responsibility.

As part of the American Indian National Veteran Memorial at the Heard Museum, Dr. George Bluespruce notes, “As American Indian people we honor two things continuously, our elders and our veterans.” I believe we must challenge ourselves to remember daily the reasons we are able to enjoy our lives seamlessly. Our culture and society was made by the people who came before us. It is our privilege to continue this work but we must also remember and respect the people who helped build today.

Tomorrow is Memorial Day, a time for us to remember not only the people who have made the ultimate sacrifice but also those who have stepped up to the call of duty to fulfill the promise of our country and to make our communities better. Like no other ethnic community American Indian people have served our country with the highest rate of servicemen and women per capita. I look around and my world has been touched by incredible men and women who have seen and understood the cost of our freedom. To my late grandfathers, uncles, aunties, brothers, sisters and dear friends who have served with humility, dedication and love, I extend my sincere gratitude for the lessons you have taught me. Your commitment can only be matched with drive to not be content with mediocrity and continuance to strive to the betterment of society.

Changing Seasons

As I write this email, I am dreaming of snow. I religiously call my Dad every Sunday. Even though we touch base through the week, our Sunday calls are special. He told me yesterday morning that my hometown had its first snow of the season. Living in Phoenix you acclimate to having only 1 ½ seasons – hot and cool. In Navajo land, our lives revolve around the seasons changing. Each month indicates a teaching and set of actions to be carried out. We begin our year in October, Ghąąjį’ or the time of joining seasons and begin to harvest crops.

Recently, we moved from November or Níłch’its’ósí – the time of “thin slice of cold air” to December or Níłch’itsoh – the time of “abundance of cold air”. Our calendar exists as a map for what ceremonies occur in these periods.

The changing of seasons and the transitions from month to month mirrors the changes which occur in the bodies of both women and men. There are passages and ways to maneuver through as we pass through life. In Navajo culture the four directions act as a compass to our life and tell us of these times. The east represents infancy, the south childhood/adolescence, the west adulthood and the north, old age. We understand these times as life phases so getting older is nothing to be frightened of but just another stage in our lives with new responsibilities.

I am the oldest of four children. As the oldest, especially the oldest girl, I grew accustomed to taking care of my brothers and sister. I was always the one in charge when my parents had to work late or went to town. But there were many moments growing up where we were all equal. Age didn’t matter and I didn’t have to be the boss. When I was in fifth grade or so my brothers who shared a room got their first bunk bed. It was the coolest thing ever because the bottom bunk had a full size mattress and the top a twin size, so we constantly had sleepovers. This was normal from day one but the number of sleepovers grew swiftly with the snazzy new bunk bed.

A few months after getting the bed, I remember visiting my Grandma Mae, my mom’s aunt. She lives against the Lukachukai Mountains. It is the best place for fun as her place is near a wash which we relentlessly played in and always seemed to have water flowing. It was a routine visit as we ate and spent time with relatives. I helped my mom stay awake on our late drive home. My mom said shímasaní (maternal grandmother) Mae and shímasaní Lillian, observed I wasn’t playing with my brothers and siblings the way I used too. They noticed me sitting out more and just watching and hanging out with my older cousins. They thought I was getting closer to have my Kinaaldá. I was excited by this until my mom noted it meant I couldn’t “sleepover” in my brothers’ room the same way. She said I was going to be a young lady and needed to start to have my own space and sleep in separate beds. The next day, my mom and dad talked with my brothers and I about this new change. They mentioned to my brothers how they need to understand I was going to be a young lady and they needed to not play with me so roughly. They reiterated how I couldn’t sleep over in their room the same way.

I remember feeling excited about my Kinaaldá even though I hadn’t learned all the details at that point. But I also felt sad. Sad things wouldn’t be the same. Over the next year my mom would take me to several Kinaaldá ceremonies. We would help by bringing food or even just visiting with the family. We would stay up all night with the girl. Every time on the trip back to Kayenta my mom would answer any questions I had. In the times we went as a family to Kinaaldás my parents would explain openly with my brothers what a Kinaaldá was and how they would be a part of it. My sister was still a toddler so by default she was a part of the conversation.

My growing up meant as a family we moved into a new passage in our lives. We learned together and were more prepared when after a year, we started my ceremony. I admire the support my family gave me and the way my parents taught me about the Kinaaldá I would have by allowing me to be a part of others’ ceremonies.

The cycle of becoming a Navajo woman is part of this tradition. On a recent breakfast date, my friend Jessica shared how her dad would tell of four distinct points a Navajo woman uses a Navajo basket in her life. First as a young girl in her Kinaaldá, then at your wedding, next as part of the Blessingway ceremony as an expectant mother and then as the mother of the daughter having a Kinaaldá. I found this a beautiful way of denoting the passages a Navajo woman marks her life with. Navajo culture is built on interdependence and what I find special is even though the Navajo women life’s sees these points, they are not solitary actions. Each of these four events are shared by the family. Our culture is dynamic and built to support one another. As I move into other seasons this year I do so as a granddaughter, daughter, sister, auntie, teacher and student…always a student. Just like snow turns to rain and rain into sunshine. So to is our life. It is constantly changing…just like the weather.