Seeking our Roots

Well I did it!  Yes I sent in my application for Indian Status in Canada today.  My brother very recently did some genealogy work on the family tree and found that the branch that had always been described as Irish because the last name was Barnhart was in fact Mohawk and had a history dating back to the Iroquois migration north in 1777 from the USA to Canada under Chief Joseph Brant after the American Revolution.

I understand the motivations of the family in distancing themselves from the stereotype of the drunken Indian and all the other degrading commentary of their day. But, nonetheless, it is hurtful to me that a significant part of my heritage has been denied me and now I am taking positive steps to rectify this sad state.

I have wondered for a long time about my attraction to native spirituality and to the music.  I have a collection of flutes and drums and I have even built drums.  I have spent time in native spiritual centers and have felt such a strong connect.  A friend recently reminded me penchant for dating women of native extraction of native appearance.

A couple of years ago I had occasion to purchase a CD made by a native flute maker named David Maracle from the Tyendinaga reserve at Deseronto, Ontario.  When checking the family tree, a man by the name of Maracle was a great grandfather.  I wonder if we are related.  It would be interesting to find out and perhaps I will venture that way to look him up and maybe take some lessons from him.  My skills can be termed at the embryonic level.

There are some government benefits that will become available to me once my status is confirmed.  But, I’m not sure I will partake.  What is important to me is knowing my roots and understanding some of the energies that run in my spirit that so closely align me with the native way.  Take my last journey.  It was a journey of spirit and discovery.  I left in the Fall at the time of harvest (the direction West) and thanks giving as it transition to winter (the North) the time of rebirth and self discovery to the spring (the East) the time of re-awakening and growth.  Hmmmmmmm.

So this is the time of waiting for the application to be processed and my status as native confirmed.  In that time I will commit myself to learning more of my rich heritage and discovering a whole new world that is now mine to discover and to become a part of.  

Here is a little tune I played impromptu that I made up for someone very dear to me.  I played this on a beautiful high D Raymond Redfeather made walnut flute.

On Little Wings

David Maracle's website

Mary Youngblood ‘s Beneath the Raven Moon is a wonderful introduction to the person who inspired me to play the flute.

Mary Youngblood - Beneath the Raven Moon.

My painting Sacred Circle inspired by the ancient Ojibway sacred site at Petroglyphs Provincial Park in Ontario.  The images are from sketches I made from the stone carvings on this ancient site.

Even In the Quietest Moments

It is raining today.  Not a steady rain but rather the sporadic drizzles and drips of Mother Nature’s head cold.  This is the fifth day of rain and cold.  The wind has blown in from the east for this time bringing the cold off the chilly surface of Lake Ontario.  The sole consolation is the fact that a month ago this would have been a lake-effect flurry.

The last few days have been a trial of the spirit.  The natural gloom of a series of rainy spring days compounded by the after-effects of the crash and the drugs to manage the pain and being apart from a love who is far away, have left me with a case of the blues and a sense of loneliness.  This will pass as I rest today and re-group.

My natural state is one of happiness and a positive attitude.  I suspect with some rest and some phone time with my love, the sun will rise in my spiritual east and the shadows of this recent discontent will be washed away and banished to the shadows of the past.

In today’s world of the Internet, blogs and social networking, it is possible to connect and meet so many people from both near and far.  Those cyber connections can often times, lead to face-to-face meetings that are memorable; some are wonderful memories and some are not so great.  I have been, in my travels, blessed with many wonderful meetings and there have been a few horror shows.  Thankfully I have had not many of the latter experiences.

One impact I never gave too much thought about was the more viral spread of my blogs through the old traditional means of correspondence; the letter.

I have a dear friend who writes letters to the incarcerated as part of the prison ministry.  The people she writes to range from “lifers” to those passing through the system.  They spend their lives within the walls and wire without hope, with anger, with remorse, with guilt, with hope too.  I never realized but my blogs were finding their way into the hands of these folks and they look forward to getting my writing.  What a wonderful thing this is!!  Yes, we all, myself certainly included understand the need for incarceration and for paying dues to society for wrongs committed but, the Christian values of compassion and praying for the redemption of their souls is also there. And, it must be heard and acted upon.

I am grateful for my ability to write and I hope my words and my message of hope and compassion bring some level of peace and insight to this audience I have never met.

I was getting down about writing.  I didn’t seem to be getting the response that me ego wanted (yes it is ego that craves the attention) but upon hearing this story about the following I have in the prison system came to my attention, I felt a shift from “woe is me” to “what a wonderful thing this is”.  And I am grateful to my friend for thinking that my words and thoughts might help those in less fortunate circumstances.

So as I have had these sad thoughts about being apart from my love and doubt about the success or good of my writing I listened to a band I first saw about 1976 in Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto and the lyrics came to me”

Even in the quietest moments

I wish I knew what I had to do

And even though the sun is shining

Well, I feel the rain, here it comes again, dear

And even when you showed me

My heart was out of tune

For there's a shadow of doubt

That's not letting me find you too soon

The music that you gave me

The language of my soul

Oh Lord, I wanna be with you

Won't you let me come in from the cold?

My heart was out of tune.  There are reasons that I know well why we are apart and they are just a temporary situation that will resolve with time and good intentions.  I am not, after all behind the walls without any hope for release or my release dependant on a system over which I have no control.

My friend reminded me of an old James Taylor song and reading the lyrics I saw a little ways inside the walls and behind the wire.  His song Sleep Come Free Me:

Well, I've been lying in this dungeon

Since I was eighteen

Ten lonely years of my life taken

I've been living in the pages of a magazine

It breaks my heart to awaken

(chorus)

Set me free

Sleep come free me (please, please, please)

Set me free

Set me free

Now the state of alabama says I killed a man

The jury reached the same conclusion

I remember I was there

With a tire iron in my hand

The rest is all confusion

- chorus -

More like an animal and less like a man

What they leave you ain't worth keeping

Brother let me tell you

I got a clock with no hands

The only way out is through sleeping

- chorus -

You get to where you used to be

Whoever you claim

It's open to interpretation

Just remember your number

And abandon your name

And hold on to your name

And hold on to your imagination

Oh no no

-       chorus –

I have plenty of reasons to write now.  A multitude of faceless reasons who get a little light into their life and perhaps some insights that may take them to a place where they can be released spiritually if not physically.  Life is good!!!

Even in the Quietest Moments - Roger Hodgson

I couldn’t find a link to the James Taylor song that would play in Canada due to copyright rules.

From my book Songs of Love and Other Improvisations (1999)

The thought of separation is like a punishment

The thought of the distance between us

Pounds at my every breath

How can love so beautiful

Wreak such torment on my soul

I ask these question because I have no answers

I have not been to this space before

It confuses and abuses me

How can love so beautiful

Be forlorn and bereft of hope

Yet if I think of the love that brought us here

How it started strengthened matured

I would have faith and peace

How can love so beautiful

Not transcend time and distance

Me

Malabar Florida

Zion National Park

Even Mother Nature Gets the Blues

Sometimes the rain can get you down.  It has been raining here for a couple of days now.  It seems to fit the mood; Nature’s way of singing the blues.  The blues are all about feeling bad but finding your way back to feeling good.

I have spent the past 2 weeks since arriving back in Canada packing up my house and cleaning up the business affairs of y old life to pave the way into a new life.  This is not always a happy time because as my friend Sin noted in her blog today

“Like relationships, friendships, too, end. And it doesn’t have to be as a result of some major fallout, blow up, or miscommunication, but rather difference—forks in the road that lead people in their own direction.

It’s a loss nonetheless, and for both (or all) persons involved, not just the friend who is learning about the dissolve of the friendship, but also for the friend dissolving it.

The big truth is that some of us will outgrow a friend for whatever reasons: goals, spiritual, behavior, or simply a loss of having anything more in common.

 It happens.

Sometimes we have to choose to walk away from a friendship that is no longer healthy/or drags us down; or ones where perhaps the friend is negative for us — likely to pull you down.

It’s easy to know that we no longer want a friendship, but it is not necessarily an easy task to talk about it with the person. This is why so many people lie and/or start a fight; it’s easier. It’s a solid reason they can point to, it takes responsibility off of themselves, it removes guilt (friendships are forever, right?) it sparks anger that they can nurture and use to shield themselves behind.”

Parting with an old life style or way of life is like the ending of a friendship or relationship.  Leaving the house that I once enjoyed but no longer fits into my lifestyle, is a form of separation.

Nature, in sympathy, has been playing the blues to bring the point home.

While the realtor was here to run an open house, I bugged out and went to get more boxes for packing then stopped in at the local pub (about 3 miles away) to have a pint of Kilkenney Irish ale and a huge helping of their delectable shepherd’s pie.  The regular entertainment on Sunday afternoons is a duo called Vox Violins.  I know them simply, as Mark and Beth.

I have not seen Beth and Mark since I left on my ride through the USA and the winter in Florida and Texas.   It was a good antidote to blues to go hear some good old acoustic Canadian roots music.  Mark plays electric guitar in a local R7B/Funk band called Shift and Beth can be heard playing electric violin in the all-female band Broadband.

It was a pleasant way to spend a wet and miserable Sunday afternoon.  While I tucked away a huge slice of the Irish Harp’s excellent shepherd’s pie, they covered a whole range of traditional Celtic, Canadian, and international roots music classics.  Another Canadian musician friend, Brian Pickell, wrote one of the tunes they played.  Brian is a superb bluegrass banjo, mandolin and guitar player.  His band, the Brian Pickell band, plays the folk festival circuit and specializes in Canadian fiddle and clog dancing music.  Mark and Beth played Muriel’s Walt for me written by Brian.

I did two classes four years at an adult roots music summer camp with Brian; novice mandolin and tune writing.

We are blessed with an abundance of musical talent in Canada.  The Niagara region and southern Ontario where I am living has produced a wide variety of musicians over the years including jazz musicians like trumpeters Kenny Wheeler and Maynard Ferguson, rock drummer legend Neil Peart, and perennial Grammy polka nominee Walter Ostenak. 

My escape from the springtime blues was a most satisfying afternoon of home grown music in the beautiful setting of Niagara-on the-Lake.  Mother Nature did her best to dull down the day but a great music fix is hard to beat.

Vox Violins website

Brian Pickell's website

A medley of tunes by the Brian Pickell Band

Mark Clifford and Beth Bartley - Vox Violins

The Brian Pickell Band

The Night Inside Me

I am sitting in the open concept dining room of my home in the village of Virgil close to the shore of Lake Ontario.  It is a beautiful spring day with the grass greening up quite nicely and the trees in bud.  Magnolia trees are enjoying their one weekend blast of color.

I am at another one of those crossroads in life.  There seem to have been several of these over the last few weeks as I have made my way though the roads of my life.   

I am back here to fulfill a requirement of the government that ensure the continuation of my heath benefit.  I am also here clearing up the last pieces of my former life including the sale of my home and the storage of all my stuff until I am ready to set up house keeping somewhere.  The road ahead is uncertain.  There are places I know I want to go both spiritually and geographically.  This is still a spirit quest I am on.  Our whole lives are a spirit quest unless we are so self-absorbed that the world ends 3 feet beyond our fingertips or we are comatose.

What am I sure of?  “God is great and the rest doesn't matter” and “We plan; God laughs”.  I am also sure I know who I am.  As noted in previous blogs, I am comfortable in my skin and I happily acknowledge my weaknesses and foibles knowing in these lies the essence of being human.

Reality came crashing home for me last weekend (quite literally) when I laid down my ’06 Road Gide and was injured just a few miles from my home.  I am slowly recovering but at least 4 weeks from being able to manhandle a Harley as my mode of transportation.  It could have been worse.  Death was probably 6 inches away and debilitating paralysis much closer.  Neither of these outcomes transpired so I have much for which, to be grateful.

As I sit here in the late afternoon sun, listening to the suburban cacophony of lawn mowers and weed whippers, I consider these crossroads.  The plan is not mine; just the choices.  To be positive in the face of the recently raised roadblocks to my person vision of nirvana: or to be negative and have a good wallow in the sinkhole of self-pity?  Buy a totally practical car when the insurance money comes in for the Harley or buy another Harley?  Stay here until the house sells or get my work done and hit the road again on another long distance adventure? Move to Florida in the fall, or Texas, or Arkansas, or stay here and count snowflakes.

It is all about choices,, I have not always done well with choices.  I was thinking about that when I wrote my Facebook and BON status updates today.  I wrote:

Our lives get caught up in the thorns of our own bad choices. Sometimes we have to tear free of these encumbrances leaving pieces of skin and cloth behind as a reminder to those who follow

When I look back over a lifetime I sure see a lot of skin and bits of cloth across the landscape.  Will I make more bad choices?  Of course I will!!!  But, hopefully, I will make fewer than I once might have and I won’t add too many more scars of experience to my psyche.

I am listening to music as I work. The Naked Ride Home by Jackson Browne.  The moral lyrics deal with the momentous decision of life and how our focus on the moment (The Naked Ride Home) distract us from the important stuff like the important decisions so we make bad choices as a result or, we fail to hear our conscience (the heart that was beating alone) where the clues to the right decision usually lie.

She gathered her clothes

And ran through the yard in the dark

Up onto the porch like a flash, and inside

Then one room at a time

I watched every light in our house come on

Like the truth that would eventually dawn,

Forcing me to decide

But on that freeway the light was receding

Her beauty, a sight so misleading

I failed to hear the heart that was beating alone

On the naked ride home

The next tune on this CD is The Night Inside Me.  This song paints the message for me of sanctuary and prayer.  Those comforting dimly lit place to which, we retreat at times when we need clarity that can only come away from the clamor of the light of day.

I used to lay out in a field under the Milky Way

With everything that I was feeling that I could not say

With every doubt and every sorrow that was in my way

Tearing around inside my head like it was there to stay

Night in my eyes, the night inside me

There where the shadows and the night could hide me

Night in my eyes

Sky full of stars turning over me

Waiting for night to set me free

I caught a ride into the city every chance I got

I wasn't sure there was a name for the life I sought

Now I'm a long way gone down the life I got

I don't know how I believed some of the things I thought

Night in my eyes, the night inside me

Here where the shadows gather to decide me

Night in my eyes

Out at the end of light and gravity

Waiting for night

It takes the night to clear all of this mess away

The obligation, the burden and the light of day

It takes the night to fall between the world I obey

And a world where I hear angels play

Maybe I should go back to Spain

I walk around inside the questions of my day

I navigate the inner reaches of my disarray

I pass the altars where fools and thieves hold sway

I wait for night to come and lift this dread away

Night in my eyes, the night inside me

Here where the shadows and the light divide me

Night in my eyes

Night full of promise and uncertainty

Waiting for night to set me free

The next several months will be a period of decision and choice as I move from my former life to the new as this new journey begins.  It is my nature to be the infernally optimistic type so I will come at these changes from a positive perspective and from a prayerful stance.  All I know is the plan is not mine but the choices are.

The Naked Ride Home - Jackson Browne

The Night Inside Me - Jackson Browne

From the untitled book:

Sunlight sleepy warm on yesterday’s burn

It is the silence that woke me

Two wine glasses on the drain board

It was white served in flutes

The music is still there

No CD but a cosmic residue of Puccini

A sensual shiver of a memory touch

And a deep sense of knowing

Fills my being as I see your reflection

In the window looking out on yesterday

In your blue eyes

I see the reflection

Of a field I love

Wild flowers and soaked in sun

Quiet

The serenity of a peaceful bliss