i realized that i have become an angry indian. i only talk about native issues/topics when someone plays devil's advocate or ask a question that i feel needs a lengthy — and often times bitter — answer. i never get to talk happy about my experiences. people don't want to hear that.
i've had so many positive experiences through this journey. one of which is reconnecting with my blackfeet roots (and pretty damn sure about those lakota roots too). i had an amazing experience about a month ago i've been timid to share with people because i feel they may judge me for it. and i almost don't want to share it because maybe it will make it less special.
but in order to make an effort to not be an "angry indian," i'm going to share it here.
i was invited to sweat with my t.a. who has opened my eyes wider than i thought they could go. so wide i think i can see things in the back of my head. it makes me know things i didn't know i could know before. like the fact that i need a hairbrush since i can see all the way to the back of my head now. she saw my eyes opening and the pain and hurt and confusion and saw that i was lost. she said, come to sweat lodge. so i came.
i'd sweat before, once, last summer. it was done by lulu. she led it in a lakota tradition, she is creek. it was one of the most powerful experiences of my life. i felt blessed to have been a part of it. so i jumped at the opportunity to sweat again.
it was the same. it was different. it was done in the blackfeet manner. even now i smell the sweetgrass. and i am overwhelmed with a calm on my chest.
dark, hot sticky. you're nowhere and everywhere at the same time. you are completely out of your body but much too aware of the heat and wet of your skin. you move and you feel your skin. you feel all your skin. you hold up your head with a limp arm. you pray. you sing. you feel your voice coming from the very tips of your toes. it surges through your body, keeping you there; keeps you from completely going away. people say they need a hot shower so they can just cry. just crying in their hot shower. this is that. and so much better. so so so much better. you are in your mother's womb. the ground is holding you up. it's the only thing holding you up. then the songs speak to you. i feel the song in my chest. it hits my heart. hits at it and hits at it and hits at it. finally the shell breaks, like a dam, and all the water of emotion come pouring through my skin, my eyes. i feel the escape as i cry out. i sob. i can't understand it. i just feel it. i rock my body back and forth. cradling my spirit. soothing my soul like the precious babe it is, vulnerable and scared. i feel completely alone. i let myself cry out. i let the sobs come. and then i am not alone. i am surrounded by women who are supporting me as the ground supports me. without words. i feel their support. the door is open and i breathe in the clean air. for the first time in a very very long time i feel as if i can breathe. my lungs gulp in the clean cool air, bringing me back to my body. bringing me back to now. i fill up with the clean air. all the dark air is out. clean air in. i breathe. i breathe. sobs keep coming, forcing out the hurt the pain the dark. each new breathe i take is a new light. i grab my chest only to find the heaviness gone. i feel i have come home after a long trip away. i know i am right where i am supposed to be.
i find out later the song that broke my heart's shell was blackfeet. it was a song to call them home. but i already knew that. i knew that already.
after the sweat is done, i walk outside. i look around. there's a car that drives by. it's light almost blinds me. i call my name. i call it again. the word is heavy on my tongue. colleen. me. mine. colleen. coll een. i breathe. a heavy breath. i'm coming home. returning to my body. i was gone. i try to return.
my face feels free. my chest is open. i was unable to call myself back all the way. i eat the sweet pineapple and i feel the juice run down my wrists, my arms. the sweetness brings me back a bit more. i go home. i go to work, too soon. i still have my open chest. it gets stuffed with not things i want to be in there. but karen took care of me. but that's another story.
i am thankful for the song. i am thankful for the prayer. i know now why i have always felt this pull to montana. it's my home. i need to go back. it's calling me back. the songs, the smells, the prayers. i want to feel the happiness of the bond that i'm lacking.
if i feel it, maybe i won't just be an angry indian. maybe i'll just be indian.
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