Friday, January 19, 2007

unconditional


I normally don't blog other's writing, but there is something that I really want to share in the world that I don't think has gotten nearly enough credit. Ulali is a First Nations women's acapella trio, (First Nations, for those who may not know, is the title some of the indigenous tribes of North America more commonly but inaccurately known as Native Americans have chosen for themselves.) and they are amazing, brilliant, talented and inspiring. Their album Mahk Jchi is a powerful work of art, rife with gorgeous harmonies, deeply felt but never dramatic emotion, humor, and a most compelling sense of compassion.

One of the last tracks on the album, called All My Relations is the most powerful statement in acceptance, inclusiveness and unconditional love I have heard anywhere, ever. The degree to which they succeed in offering their devotion to all their relations, meaning all of us, as in we truly are all one family on this planet, the good, the bad and the heinous amongst us, is astonishing. It is profound.

This entire album tends to make me cry for a host of reasons. Just the sheer beauty of these women's voices evokes a strong sense of love and loss and challenges overcome which is plenty to yank a tear or ten from me. Also, when my beloved lost his mind and ended up in a rehab in Tennessee a couple years ago I got into the habit of listening to this album on the drive to visit him. That was, naturally, a very emotional time in my life and that album brought to mind for me the beauty of the world in contrast with my own pain, the pain of women struggling in such a broken world, and the overwhelming tragedy of cultures lost and how that has affected all of our ability to be whole. I would drive and sing and cry and cry and cry.

And All My Relations in particular culls the strongest response from me because it so eloquently reminds us that we need to include all in our prayers, even those who seem like the perpetrators, the enemy. To hear a dedication coming from the mouths of First Nations women directed not only to their ancestors and all the victims of the atrocities of relocation and extermination, but also many who have caused suffering along the way is a humbling reminder that we all could work a little harder at cultivating compassion in our hearts and minds. Compassion is a way of life whose purpose is to allow us to forgive those who seem not to deserve forgiveness, but in our forgiveness we serve love in the highest and that can only elevate us and the plight of our species. At least that is what I believe, though I am not always perfect in my attempts at compassion. This song prompts me to strive for it.

All My Relations by Ulali

To our elders who teach us of our creation and our past so we may preserve Mother Earth for ancestors yet to come, we are the link.

This is dedicated to our relatives before us, thousands of years ago, and to the 150 million who were exterminated across the western hemisphere in the first 400 years time starting in 1492:

To those who have kept their homelands and to the nations extinct due to mass slaughter, slavery, deportation and disease unknown to them, and to the ones who are subjected to the same treatment today,

To the ones who survived the relocations and the ones who died along the way,

To those who carried on traditions and live strong among their people,

To those who left their communities by force or by choice and for generations who no longer know who they are,

To those who search and never find,

To those that turn away the so called non-accepted,

To those that bring us together and to those living outside keeping touch, the voice for many,

To those that make it back to live and fight the struggles of their people,

To those that give up and those who do not care,

To those who abuse themselves and others and those who revive again,

To those who are physically, mentally or spiritually incapable by accident or by birth,

To those who seek strength in our spirituality in ways of life and those who exploit it, even our own,

To those who fall for the lies and join the dividing lines that keep us fighting amongst each other,

To the outsiders who step in, good or bad, and those of us who don’t know better,

To the leaders and prisoners of war, politics, crime, race and religion- innocent or guilty,

To the young, the old, the living and the dead,
To our brothers and sisters and all living things across Mother Earth and her beauty we’ve destroyed and denied, the honor that the Creator has given each individual, the truth that lies in our hearts…

All my relations.

There is no way I can do this song justice by just publishing the words. You need to hear their voices speak their truth. Please find Ulali and support them by purchasing their music so you can experience their gift of beauty yourself and so they can continue to generate music of the highest vibration.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

it's my blood


Today I was talking to my friend, S, an empowered, feminist woman. She had just gotten her period and was having some cramps and complained a little. I, who has somewhat of an issue with random muscle spasms and cramps in other parts of my body said that I prefer menstrual cramps to that other type of cramping. S said that she prefers no cramps at all. Then I told her that not only do I prefer uterine cramps to the cramping of other muscle groups, but that I actually kind of like uterine cramps. She said I was weird.

I guess she must be right. I realized that all my years of feminist consciousness raising and herbal education and midwifery training and practicing has put me into what is probably a tiny minority. I am so deeply connected to my cycles and appreciate my body so much that I love menstruating, furthermore I enjoy the minor discomfort associated with it.

Now please hear me out. First of all, I know there are many women out there who, for a variety of reasons physiological and emotional, experience extreme discomfort and even acute pain during their menstrual cycle, and I, gratefully, am not one of them. I would likely feel differently if I were. Also, I believe that it would be far less difficult for all women to cope with the physical and emotional symptoms associated with our reproductive cycles, and reproducing itself, if we were all in a culture that allowed a little more space for us to provide ourselves with the care we may need to ameliorate those symptoms, care such as time off, bed rest, nourishing foods and teas, gentle exercise, support of other women in the community, support of the men in the community, etc.

That said, here I am, anomalous. I like the bleeding, the gorgeous bright and dark reds of my blood. I like the warm sensation of the contractions as they gently grip my womb. I appreciate the emotional vulnerability, the wide openness that comes in this state and the days leading up to it. I get a kick out of the tears I can find myself shedding over a sunrise or a Hallmark commercial. I even find the tender soreness that my nipples experience to be kind of yummy; my breasts long to be held and when I am lucky enough to have the pleasure of someone's attention on them the sensitivity is really quite a turn-on.

I like to sit and let the waves of aching wash through me as I am submerged in a hot bath. I like it that when I go to bed the night of the first day of my bleeding I am assured I will sleep deeply and deep into the morning. I try whenever possible to allow myself that treat, that brief, period vacation some mornings.

I am glad that when I bleed I bleed onto cotton cloths and pads that I wash and use over. I spend no money on disposable menstrual products that eventually get thrown or flushed away.

I cherish watching how my cycle gets swayed with the moon. I am not a 28 day bleeder; I generally cycle more quickly than that so it is interesting to notice how the tides of the earth and orbit of the moon can pull me into one direction or another, a slightly longer cycle, a particularly juicy fertility spell during a full moon, a dark, heavy bleed during a new moon. I track the days of my cycle in my We'Moon calendar and have done so for ten years or longer. I am as in touch with my fertility as I think one could be. I can choose not to practice any other method of birth control than fertility awareness when I have a lover if I want because I know beyond the shadow of a doubt when I am able to get pregnant. It is a beautiful blessing.

So to those of you reading who are shirking at my intimate recount of something most women hide or despise I ask that you have an open mind and imagine that perhaps there would be far fewer women who did suffer under a simple and natural rhythm of their bodies if they were not forced to hide it or feel shame in it or work through it quietly eating Midol and stuffing chemical laden tampons into the most delicate niche in their bodies. Perhaps like so many other things in our world we are out of balance in how we manage, approach and appreciate what women's bodies do.

I like bleeding. You could, too. And our men can learn to love everything that our bodies do and appreciate and value our cycles and make space and provide love for us in the course of that flow.

And thus we have come to the end of another one of my feminist, tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping, witch-talking, yoni-loving tirades. But you can excuse me, right? I am bleeding, after all. ; )

(PS - I bet most of you have never seen Judy Chicago's earth-shattering, feminist art piece called Red Flag. I chose not to use it as the image heading up my blog only because I wanted to gently introduce my feelings on the matter, but if I were feeling feisty, this is the image I would have used. Please check it out. Judy Chicago is one of my heroes.)