Somos todos indigenos.
We are all indigenous peoples.
To me, indigenous denotes of the Earth.
We see and feel no separation, and our nature is to hold steady and embodied awareness in total connection with the Divine Whole.
Pero hemos olvidado.
But we have forgotten.
i will not tolerate absorption into a digitized reality, fabricated and colored by corrupt, greedy agencies that do not serve life.
i forgive - but do not condone - the co-opted masses who agreed to sever real relationships in exchange for pixels and screens. Many are the friends who suddenly and strangely cut off our talking, visiting, and even texting any more.
They don’t know how owned and controlled they are.
Flat screens suck the life out of our bodies, ion by ion, pixel by pixel, and breath by fading breath. Sure, talking to somebody may be better than talking to nobody at all, but without real and actual connection, the soul withers - it’s only a matter of time.
In a digital society, community becomes a shallow shell, and there is no true nourishment for the heart.
The heart is the primary brain, with a radiantly expanding toric field.
Like little energy antennae, the heart reaches out to survey and filter the atmosphere for danger, safety, connection, and love. Modern instruments cannot yet measure the vast extent of the heart’s perceptual range.
Los indigenos aprenden con sus corazones, y viven de sus almas.
Indigenous peoples learn with their hearts, and live from their souls.
Soy indigena, y no ha olvidado; pero yo tambien estoy bien separada de mi pasado autentico. Lo que se llama la cultura moderna destruye la esencia y la semillla indigena.
i am an indigenous woman, and i have not forgotten; but i too am well removed from my true past. That which calls itself modern culture destroys the indigenous essence and its seed.
Soy morena, pero ellos me han blanqueada en la escuela.
i am brown, but they bleached me in school.
i am not “caucasian”, and i’ve learned to hate that word.
Whitewashing leaves shameful and permanent scars on individuals and their traditions - gaping wounds packed with slime and grime and disgrace.
Whitewashing is what happens to those (few) who survive the genocidal war dance of the colonizers who plunder all the beautiful and colorful peoples of this Earth. Colonizers stop at nothing to sterilize all color, texture, and beauty to death. Even the flowers, fruits, and leaves…and they just wipe the animals out.
When i was a little girl in school we had to cut up a frog. It was so traumatic and horrifying that i blacked it out - all except for the smell of formaldehyde, and the long ugly slice to remove its tiny beating heart.
Tiny. Helpless. Dead.
Tiny children should not be taught to kill.
Nor should teenage men and women bribed to enlist in fighting glorified wars that never end.
Why glorify war?
Trauma only breeds trauma forevermore.
Trauma shatters the heart and soul, forcing what’s left of it into isolation, hopelessness, shame, and fear.
Alcoholism.
Drug addiction.
Violence.
Suicide.
Neuro-degenerative disease.
People go mad and kill themselves, or die slow, painful deaths wracked by illness and disease. It’s blatantly obvious that suicide and addiction are epidemic now in indigenous populations, and in our young across the globe.
Glorifying war and beating the culture and tradition out of people is the real virus that’s going around.
Instead, we should learn - and teach - how to nurture life - which indigenous people all did before they were bleached and made to forget…
We are part of the turning of the seasons and the cycles of life. We are made of Earth Herself. Life ever regenerates and births new life.
Somos gente de la tierra. Solo tenemos que recordar.
We are people of the land. We must only remember.
To remember is to heal; to heal, to become whole again.
Somos todos indigenos, con la riqueza de nuestras culturas ancestrales en cada celula. Estos recuerdos, las palabras, las canciones, y las cuentas estan la medicina de renovernos.
We are all indigenous peoples, with the richness of our ancestral traditions in every cell. Those memories, the words, and the stories are the medicine of self-renewal.
Soy morena, y convoco la alma originale del mundo y la musica del corazon a sonearse otra vez. Pido la regresa de todos colores del arco iris. Quizas nos da cansa la persecucion sin fin; pero el momento de levantarnos es ahora, ahorita, y hoy. Tal como siempre renace la naturaleza, tambien andamos hacia nuestro proprio renaciamiento. Los conquistadores nunca pueden matar nuestro espiritu, porque somos gente de la tierra; tejido completemente en las fuerzas del fuego, del agua, del viento, de la tierra, y de eter. Dentro del corazon indigeno, hay una luz mas briliante que todas las estrellas; musica celestiale en que resonan el timbre dulce de los angeles; y una sabiduria absolutamente divina.
i am brown, and i call forth the original soul of the world and the music of our hearts to sound again. i demand the return of all colors in the rainbow to shine. Maybe we are weary from the endless persecution; but the moment to rise up is now, right now, today. Just as Nature ever renews Herself, we too walk toward our own regeneration and rebirth. The colonizers can never kill our spirit, for we are people of the Earth, completely woven into the forces of fire, water, wind, earth, and ether. Within the indigenous heart is a light brighter than all the stars; and celestial music ringing with angel-song; and a wisdom absolutely divine.
Escuchen, mi familia…sonan las voces ancestrales en nuestra sangre.
Listen, family…for the trill of ancestral song in our blood.
Subimos juntos. Toma mi mano - no sera solo por un momento mas.
Ella vive.
We climb together. Grab my hand - you won’t be alone another moment.
She is here.
Acendemos juntos, con la gracia de un amor que centelea con la luz pura de la verdad.
We rise together, with the grace of a love shining in the pure light of truth.
Somos todos indigenos, y reclamamos la alma de la tierra, para esconder sus semillas sagradas dentro de nuestros huesos y respiraciones.
We are all indigenous peoples, and we hereby reclaim the soul of the Earth, to hide her sacred seeds in our bones and our breath.
Precious Mother, we have returned, and we are here…
(Thank you, dear reader, for returning here again and again. Spanish is not my first language, although it should have been; so forgive any errors due to my early bleaching; and excuse my not knowing how to put accent marks over the words on this Mac.)
"Within the indigenous heart is a light brighter than all the stars; and celestial music ringing with angel-song; and a wisdom absolutely divine." Beautiful Yolanda. I am feeling with you.
Yolanda, dear sister. Just in from splitting oak for the winter fires.. This latest is a gem. I can feel your INNERSTANDING of what we experienced in attending Indigenous Peoples Days celebrations.
Yes, we are "EARTHERS" ,"SOVEREIGNS, We are the Stewards of this Mother Earth, Turtle Island, and being "the people we have been waiting for", I accept your call ,dear sister,and the call to ALL people to step into our destinies as Stewards of the manifestations of the World Maker always remembering "in a Garden full of Angels" you will never be alone." Hay wannah.