not native fruit

lughnasa 2009

today is lughnasa, the celtic holiday celebrating the Descent of the Sun.  Summer turns the corner today and the Sun begins its yearly trek back toward its Nadir. 

for me, August has always had a particularly golden-hue, moving towards the colors of Autumn.  Enjoy the sweet melancholy of the mellow End of Summer season.  What's not to love?

primordial fourth of july

my partner, g, and I went for a hike this morning in wildcat canyon park.  i won't name the trail, because i don't want it to be swarmed.  it was pure magic.  the trail was embedded in a tangle of eucalyptus, flowering buckeye, live oak and bay trees, many of them slithering across the ground like mossy snakes.  their ancient boles were twisted, gnarled, buckled, gapped and crazed.  We came upon a large hole in a tree with a shelf of scalloped white tree lichen inside the size of a cake-dish, and the shiny sap-sided hole was abuzz with busy honey-bees. 

As we hiked along the trail with blue sky visible in a thin path directly above our heads, we occasionally noticed brightness in the distances beyond the trees - sunshine on the grassy hills around us, dry in july and brilliant with the sheen of sun on straw.  Under our feet we turned up ocean-rolled black stones and the layer directly below the surface of the trail was pure sand. 

Later on our stroll we came upon a sort of natural amphitheatre on a miniature scale.  The lower half of the terraces were papered in large deep green ferns and black rocks.  The upper layer was dark with criss-crossed and roiling boles and boughs of trees with heavy canopies of leaves.  Through the ferns and boles of the thick tree cover roamed unfettered cows, eight of them, some of them with young.  We never think of cows as primordial, but of course they are - sacred in many cultures - and these beautiful bovine presences, gigantic and rounded, surrounded by forest, ferns and vines, seemed ancient and majestic in my eyes.  Black, chestnut brown with white, golden and pale, they were slowly, gracefully making their way along a narrow switchbacked trail down the arboreal slope to the creek below for water.  A community, yet each one clearly individual in its motion and consciousness.

In the warm air above us, buteos hovered for many minutes before flapping briefly to move on in their hunt.  We saw a group of five wild turkeys, two adults and what looked like three teenagers, in the brush.  On our return walk we sniffed the sweetly fragrant blossoms of the buckeye tree standing near the short overgrown bridge across the tiny creek near the trailhead.  Our noses pressed on either side of the blossom, it only made sense to kiss beneath the blooms.  What a sweetness~!  You should definitely try this sometime.  I recommend it. 

crimson christmas

We've had an unusually colorful Christmas season this year due to the combination of drought and a couple of cold snaps.  Normally rain and wind would have denuded all the trees on our streets that aren't evergreen, but this year almost every neighborhood was decked out in crimson.

 

 

 

 

iroquois covenant chain

I'm reading a book called "The Ambiguous Iroquois Empire" by Francis Jennings.  Jennings was a native of Pottsville, Pennsylvania, where my relatives lived in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries as well - the relatives on my mother's mother's side.  My intuition on this subject seems to be very strong, because I have wondered just how many people from that region might be white-Indian mixt, and I've discovered that our line seems to have been like that. Even though the social division between 'white' and 'Indian' remained rigidly fixed, some individuals must have felt the injustice of the system and were eager to rectify it - and Francis Jennings seems to have been one of these people.  My mother certainly felt the injustice of it too, but I must say she was never much of a freedom-fighter.  She was more of a healer, although I sometimes think her solutions were not always the best.

Anyway, the book deals with the Iroquois collaboration with British colonies and with other tribes.  The whole social reality of that period of America was far more complex than we are led to believe in history books, even the newer ones.  I admire anyone who can thread their way through all of that history, let alone make a decent interpretation of it. 

I've been reflecting on the value-system I was handed with no labels attached, and have been trying to identify its sources.  I found this passage interesting:

"Theirs (the Mohawks') was a dream of empire.  But!  Not empire as conceived by Europeans.  The Iroquois thought themselves the wisest of Indians, pointing to their League as evidence, and thus rationalized their role of hegemony over other tribes.  It was for the latters' own good - not an unfamiliar argument among imperialists.  But the Iroquois also generally took seriously their role as protectors of tributaries and only rarely debased their power to exploit the weaker tribes.  No multitudes groaned under the hobnailed mocassin.  The cultural trait, widespread in North American Indian cultures, that forbade capital accumulation and demanded of leaders that they impoverish themselves for the benefit of their people was integral to Iroquois society; and it made impossible an empire of wealth and exploitation, quite apart form the handicap of inadequate technology.  Whoever heard of emperors in rags?  (Yet) Mohawk chieftains were seen so, even at the height of their tribe's ascendancy.  (Historian) Morgan deplored the Iroquois lack of 'the desire to gain,' which had 'never roused the Indian mind.'  Without it, he thought, Indians could never achieve the civilization of 'our race.'"  (94-95)

Obviously, Jennings views 'the civilization of "our race"' with a jaundiced eye.  And I'm sure there are pros and cons on both sides.  I'm writing this just for a comparison of values and models.  Words here function more or less as puzzle pieces, or better yet, as directionary signs in a process leading to an unknown destination. 

My attention is caught by this passage because it describes a more cooperative form of social organization.  After other tribes surrendered to the Iroquois, they were 'brought in' to the League as 'younger brothers' or 'adopted brothers' or 'nephews,' depending on the type of relationship that would now exist between the new member tribe and the others.  So, it was a very collaborative arrangement and not exploitive in the way colonial attachments functioned towards new 'members' of the empire.

month of rabbit and 'awakening insects'

I love the name of the chinese half-month that begins today: month of awakening insects.  I have a Chinese therapeutic-music CD entitled 'Awakening Insects' and it is the most vibrant, energizing yet somehow ethereal piece of music I've ever heard.  Really, quite unlike anything else, and yet it vividly brings to mind those moments in nature when a chorus of insect-singing begins.

Of course, the awakening of the insects represents the return of life after winter's sleep.  The preceding half-month is called 'Spring Rains.'  What follows the Spring Rains?  The up-burgeoning of life!  But the return of life is still in its early stages.  Yang 'gains influence' as Yin begins to decline. 'Cold' has become 'cool,' with occasional slightly warm days.

This is the month associated with the Earthly Branch known as 'Rabbit.'  "The Rabbit is linked to the colour green, which is associated with the season of spring.  It is the colour of new life, tranquillity and relaxation.  It is said that dreams will end well if they feature the colour green since it is a lucky and influential colour."  (p. 19, Chinese Astrology, by Man-Ho Kwok - this is the one book to get if you are at all interested in investigating Chinese nature-wisdom.  I wouldn't call it 'astrology' since it has virtually nothing to do with the stars.  Unlike western astrology, this system really relies on seasons and time of day, basically with placement in space and time.  They do use a few fixed stars in one branch of the system.  Rather than 'Astrology' the 'Four Pillars' is more like a sort of 'Feng Shui' of the person.  I will be posting on Four Pillars soon.)

Anyway, interesting that we also celebrate the Rabbit at this time of year, here in the West, right?  And that we chose 'green' as the color of our money.

I've introduced a new category with this post: dao and chinese.  As some of you may know I have been an acupuncturist for the past 19 years, and a student of daoism.  I've scaled back my healing work in the past two years and have been doing less demanding work as a personal assistant/elder companion, which harks back to my earlier life.  I guess I must be a born caregiver, can't seem to get away from it.  But I am definitely pulled by this daoist system of healing and would like to do more with it in some way, shape or form.  So, one step in that direction may be to begin sharing this part of myself on this blog.

fourth of july

The weather approached warm today, but in the evening, before the sun has begun to set, it is already cooling down and I need to put on a sweater.  It's been such a quiet, free-feeling day, and now as I take my walk, it's one of those evenings when every object is distinct and colors are intense.  I'm especially observing the plant-life in the neighborhood, and every leaf and blossom glows with its own unique ontological fire. 

Later, fireworks bloom across the sky at a great distance from us.  We notice them in passing, returning to our books, the front door open to the night air, to the periodic ingress and egress of the cat, to the sound of possums scurrying through dry rhododendron leaf-litter. 

In "Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Novel" Jane Smiley writes, "A novel is a hypothesis.  A novelist shares with a scientist the wish to observe.  A novelist also shares with a scientist a partial and imperfect knowledge of the phenomenon he wishes to observe.  And so both novelist and scientist say, 'what if?'"

the vanishing indian?

In my search for reading materials relating to my dna test and my memories, I've found a 1962 book called 'Almost White' by Brewton Berry. It could have been titled 'the Vanishing Indian.'  In fact, his first chapter bears that name.  I certainly do wish there were someone like Brewton Berry around right now for me to talk to. 

One thing I begin to realize as I do all this tri-racial reading, is how much racial and ethnic categories and classifications change over time.  As I said in my last post, history is a regional thing, and there are time-regions too.  People felt differently in the past, and some of the things that were 'issues' then, aren't now.  Although perhaps there are still issues around race and ethnicity in our country with its ongoing immigration, they just aren't quite the same issues.  When we look at other countries where there is all-out war among ethnic factions, I think we can't really believe that 'this sort of thing' is no longer a problem on earth. 

In any case, the world of Brewton Berry is the world I grew up in - although I grew up in the northern version, which I regret was not covered in the book.  So it's up to me, or to someone else with more scholarly ambitions, to reconstruct it.  In the meantime, I can extrapolate from this book to my own early situation.

Most of the writing on the subject of 'tri-racials' focuses on the American South where race issues were formerly perceived to be greatest.  Many tri-racial people had to live in isolated communities with varying degrees of mixing, usually with whites.  For example, today's Melungeons test out on average via DNA to be usually 90-95% European in ancestry, with the remaining 5-10% Native American, African or some combination of each.  This is because they intermarried a lot with whites.

In Pennsylvania, mixed marriages were legal during certain periods of time, like during the Revolutionary War, and prior to 1723, so it's a somewhat different picture.  During the earliest periods, 1500-1600's, there was plenty of mixing without anyone worrying too much about it, until later.  African and European indentured servants were often on a par in terms of their servitude in those days, but soon after differences arose, mostly about how long their terms of service were.  Further on, blacks began to serve longer and longer terms, and after a Virginia uprising by a mixed group of freed indentured servants, the idea of lifelong servitude grew in appeal among landowners, leading to what we now think of as 'plantation-slavery.'  I found this out by watching a documentary called 'Africans in America.'  It's very good.  I recommend it, if only for the beautiful music and photography.

clean sweep

Here's to the start of a fresh year!

January First here in Berkeley by the Bay, was a day of bright sunshine and clear cool air that had a winey lightness to it like champagne.  I can't really recall a quality of air here that was quite so light and weightlessly transparent.  It was neither moisture-laden nor dry, and we speculate that its utter felt-cleanness may be due to decreased auto traffic on the holiday.  In any case, it was delightful and euphoria-producing.

In the evening, we walked down near the high school's playing field and encountered a flock of black-capped night herons making mysterious musical trillings and calls, bravely walking quite close to us.  We counted six.

I look forward to another year of simple pleasures, such as the sight of clean, beautiful, favorite dishes fresh from the kitchen sink.  It doesn't take much to make beauty, just a loving, enchanted eye.  Here's to the moments of noticing to come.

centenary

My mother's birthyear was one hundred years ago, and I can't let 2006 come to an end without celebrating her memory, at least once.

My mother was special to all who knew her, and I often find myself remembering the qualities that elicited respect and affection from othes.  Her ancestors were from the Pennsylvania mountains, included miners among them, and a legend of distant native american ancestry.  I'd like to present a photo retrospective in honor of her.

In this first photo, which hung in our living room, I used to stare at the bundle of on her head that looked to me like wooden slats, but she would always patiently tell me it was a ribbon.  My mother's face looks so sad in this photo, but I realize now there was plenty to be sad about.  By now, her father had had the accident that allowed tuberculosis to set in.  Her young beloved aunt had died of toxemia during her first pregnancy.  And my mother's birth followed the birth and early death of a son, so her mother was grieving when Thea was young.  I don't mean to single our family out in the sorrow department; not at all.  Sorrows were common among those pennesylvania folk.

   
Here's a romantic side of her that helps to keep the 'native american' legend alive.  I think she was about fourteen in this picture. 


  Bobbed.  It's nice to see I was not alone in having a 'rebellious' youth. 

   

Graduate of Hallahan High, Philadelphia, at seventeen.  Immediately went to work supporting her parents, father ill, mother 'did housework.'



Working woman, age 20

On her way back to work.



On the beach at Atlantic City with Angelo.








Strutting her stuff, while walking downtown with her mother.


Marrying the love of her life.


                              With her baby








daughter growing up. 
Mom would be in her fifties here.  I have a few of her at work, in her sixties, but they are not very accessible at the moment so we will skip them.  I always think she looks pretty stressed out during this period anyway.  So we'll just move on to retirement.

                                                                

                                                                    her seventy-fifth birthday



visiting in southern california with her former next-door neighbor in philadelphia.  she took this trip shortly after my father died.

                     
                     a picture of the two of us just a year or so before she died.

I've been thinking about what I might say about my mother to praise her memory.  Well, let's see, she never said anything negative about other people.  She always honored her commitments and was a steadfast friend and good neighbor.  She was intelligent and shrewd but she never used it against anybody.  I think that was because she was not ambitious.  She was one of those people who runs the whole office at the place where she worked, was never paid what she was worth, and never resented it.  She loved all people, regardless of race, ethnicity or creed.  She appreciated differences and was interested rather than repelled by them, and very respectful of others.  She brought charm and elegance to the places where she worked, made her bosses look good, and spread a kind of magic through the atmosphere wherever she was.  She was fairly religious, devout one might even say, but I really believe that she had her own religion inside herself.  Maybe she was able to take what was good in her religion and run it through the dorothea-processor so that it became something beautiful, just like her.

A friend of mine and of my mother's recently said to me that she often reflects on "the mysterious beauty that she was."  I find that she still guides me to uncover more of the depth of mystery, wisdom and goodness in life, if I just pay attention to her gentle leading.  There seems to be no end to the richness she is guide to.  What a great opportunity to have such a role model in life.  Yet she was only a simple working-woman of very modest means who lived in a city of the poor, Philadelphia from nineteen-oh-six until nineteen-seventy-six.  Exactly what made her who she was and is? 

I knew all these things about my mother even when I was quite young, and I did express my appreciation even then.  But that was nothing compared to how much I would express now, if given the chance.  Maybe the best reason for becoming a parent in your twenties is that you might still be around when the kids are in their fifties, and can more fully realize how much they have to be grateful for.

wish upon a star

star light,
star bright,
first star i see tonight,
i wish i may,
i wish i might,
have the wish
i wish tonight

*    *    *

when we were kids in the neighborhood together, we used to make wishes on things like 'first star glimpsed in the evening' and 'wishbones.'  Most of our wishes were for things like "a million dollars," "to be famous," "to be the most beautiful woman in the world," "to be the first man on the moon," (this wish predating the 1968 moon-landing), "to be president of the united states."  I always used to wish "to be happy," because I reasoned that those other things might not make me happy, and that happiness would surely be the goal of having all those other things.  The fact that I 'wished' to be happy must prove that I wasn't.

For Thanksgiving, we are having out-of-state guests, an old friend and her husband and son.  She has been given a terminal diagnosis, even though she is only fifty-two years of age.  As I prepare for her visit, I think back to how full of hopes and 'wishes' we were when we first knew each other, newly married and  just starting out in life.  I think now that we did begin with very specific hopes and wishes, and it's taken us a a lifetime to craft them.