As mentioned in my previous posts, I have been graced with the honor of meeting and observing a Cree medicine man who demonstrated a high level of healing abilities. Henry Ross has claimed to heal patients with modern dieseases that have eluded doctors such as cancer and AIDS. In accordance with Native healing once you have been treated, these diseases never return unless you chose to return to the lifestyle that created this disease to begin with. For example, if you were doctored for AIDS and were successfully treated there is no reason for the disease to return unless you decided to go back to your old lifestyle of abusing your body by injecting yourself with dirty needles.
I guess Henry was as intrigued with me as I was with him. I obviously caught his attention by all the extra "energy" I was emitting (or sucking up... I couldn't tell). After all the drama with the crow that was following me, the sweat ceremony and the freaky little drummer boy that was sent to the house in the middle of the night, I finally wore him down and he granted me my wish to see him doctor someone. Of course, there were preliminary rules laid out so I wouldn't upset the natural balance of things. First thing, I was not allowed to ask questions or engage in conversation. Essentially I had to shut up during the whole session - anyone that remotely even knows me should already know that this is an almost an impossible task. Secondly, I had to sit in the far corner of the room and remain respectfully in my seat - so I couldn't hover above the patient and bore my eyes into his/her soul. Thirdly, I was not allowed to record any of this with a camera or video cam - so this is probably why you will never see a You Tube video posted of such extraordinary events. Lastly, I had to ask my extra friends hanging out with me to leave. Pardon me? That's right, you read correctly. Henry had requested that my invisible friends needed to momentarily leave me.
I was stunned. I had "invisible friends"? Yes, apparently a whole entourage of them. Henry wasn't able to pick out specifics but he was able to tell me I had at least three of them and the only one that was consistently with me and demonstrated the greatest amount of energy had a female energy about her. Wow... and this summer just gets stranger and stranger. How does one go about telling their friends whom you can't see to butt out without hurting their invisible feelings? Hmmmm... perhaps through a memo?
Dear Invisible Peeps Hovering Above Me,
Today at 12:10PM I will be attending a healing session and your presence is respectfully declined at this engagement. You may resume your usual hovering and energy emitting activities after the patient has been miraculously cured of whatever ailment that has befuddled the mighty White Doctors. If you don't agree to these terms, please be advised that your extraterrestial energy may jeopardize a humble Native man's attempt to save a life.
Kindest Regards,
Your Human That Can't See You
Well apparently all I had to do was clear my mind, create a safe place in my mind for my "peeps" to appear and let them know why they needed to just leave me momentarily. R-i-g-h-t... Again, I was wondering if Henry was smoking the sage grass instead of sacredly burning it. Okay I suppose I can do this. So I did sit quietly and sort of meditated - I really don't know how to quiet my mind - but I did visualize a place. It sort of looked like a nice clearing in a green meadow with a babbling brook and the sun is glistening off the dew drops (if this sounds familiar it's because I ripped the image off of Ferngully the cartoon movie). I never really "saw" anyone appeared although I think I did conjure up some fairies dancing around. Anyways I could tell Henry was getting impatient with me and my images of fairies dancing about in my meadows so I told him I was ready even though I really wasn't.
I uneasily sat in the chair in the corner as instructed. Joyce was also in the room to assist Henry with the doctoring. A Metis girl in her twenties who was accompanied by her mom, hobbled in on crutches. Prior to the patient's arrival, Henry had already cleansed the space by burning sage grass. The pale looking girl lifted her leg and revealed a calf that was so swollen that it was the same size as her thigh! I quickly covered my mouth so that my gasp of horror was not heard. Henry took out his eagle bone and started blowing through it. When he does this, colors and shapes appear on the patient which reveals to Henry why the patient is not well. Usually the inflamed organ will appear brighter in color to him then the rest of the body. In this case, he was able to spot a clot in the main artery. He started talking to Joyce in a really low inaudible tone and all I see is Joyce taking some herbs from a drawer and handing Henry a very large knife. From my angle I can see a blade on it that looked like about nine inches long. He started chanting and then took the knife to slice into her swollen calf! My mouth was still stifled by my hand but now my eyes were bulging out of my sockets. The pale girl did not even wince or scream. It was like there was no pain at all. He then took his eagle bone and sucked on the open wound. I didn't see much at this point but I did hear a "p-tink" when he spat whatever he sucked out into the albalone shell. He then quickly puts some herbs into the open wound and placed his hand over it while chanting a prayer. Unbelievably the wound sealed into a neat line leaving only a straight thin scar upon the removal of his hand. From start to end, the whole procedure took about 15 minutes. Every second of those 15 minutes was an assault on my senses and my belief system. The patient appeared to be in a trance and her mom had to assist her up. Henry gave her some instructions for after care and the girl that was butchered before my eyes but never made a peep finally left.
Henry asked me to leave the room and I was left all alone with my overwhelming images burnt into my brain. Nothing scientifically could explain what I just witnessed. Even documenting this transaction of my life seems like perfect evidence that I should be committed to the Looney Bin. Henry finally comes out from the room. He looks at me, smiles and then tells me that it was a good thing I did a lousy job of following his 4th request. Apparently the "female" energy decided to help Henry heal and if it wasn't for her assistance he wouldn't have been able to successfully treat his patient. This was one of those very rare moments in life where I was silent... speechless in fact.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
What's The Probability?
I find myself at yet another crossroad in my life. This one is complicated in that family is involved so whatever decision I make will have a ripple effect either positively or negatively onto them. Unfortunately I no longer live a life where my decisions are my consequences alone. When I am in these situations, I weigh everything logically. Sometimes I drag out my giant pad and I try to see if mathematically the numbers prove if a situation is feasible. Sometimes I sit on my computer and Google to death whatever I am seeking hoping to connect somewhere between space, time and strangers. Sometimes I force my husband to listen to all my neurotic ramblings and because he isn't caught up in the emotions he is able to summarize only the details that count. Sometimes I gather my girlfriends or my best friend (my sister) and we maul over EVERYTHING with a glass of wine in hand. As a last resort, sometimes I ask for some help from my team "upstairs".
Well, this is one of those situations. Three nights ago I sent out a silent prayer for a sign as to what direction I should take. I know in my previous prayers they have always been answered. No one believes me when I tell them this but this is true.
Back in University I was failing most courses requiring numbers miserably. As economics, calculus, finance, statistics and accounting were core courses for my Business Degree I had to pass with at least a C- to graduate. I struggled through everthing but the one course that killed me was my fourth year statistics class. I failed it once already so on my second round I finally got this tutor to help me. He was actually a Stats professor from Douglas College and was very good at teaching "challenged" students such as me. He saw me struggle everyday but like a stubborn dog I kept at it, making progress but never enough to get me the C- I needed. He felt bad for me and unlike his other students that he tutored, he confessed that I was the ONLY one that never asked him to cheat for them! Apparently he had the reputation that if you showed him enough money he would do all your assignments and projects for you. I thought his high hourly rate reflected that he was just a good tutor but I never realized it was because it was a premium "cheat" rate. Even though I studied everyday, my overall mark was just a pathetic C- and I needed at least a B on my final to pass. My entire life I had excelled and the thought of dropping out of the Business Faculty made me so nauseous that I couldn't sleep. As a last resort, for two nights prior to my final exam I prayed for a miracle. The night before my tutor gave me a mock exam to test my readiness and I bombed it. I cried. He was so overwhelmed with my emotion that he left me by myself just sobbing loudly for what felt like forever. Finally he returned. This time however, he came back with a miracle.
The year prior, one of the students actually broke into his Professor's office, stole the final exam for this exact stats class and brought it back to my tutor to work out all the answers. Coincidentally, the stolen exam was written by my Professor so the probability that he would use it again was pretty good. I stared at disbelief at my tutor's offer. He told me he normally charges thousands of dollars for this but because he had a soft spot for me this was a gift from him and more importantly he would work through it with me to solve everything correctly.
I remembered driving home and reviewing in my head what my tutor instructed. If by chance my Professor actually used this exam I was to purposely get 10-12 wrong so it wouldn't look like I blatantly cheated. The entire time I was driving my hand was trembling on the steering wheel and I kept thinking I was going to crash because of my incredible luck. No way in effin hell was this happening right? I stayed up the rest of the night going over the exam because I knew that even though I didn't understand it, I can memorize it to verbatim. I went to bed and asked my team upstairs for a miracle.
The next morning I was given the final exam. This was THE exam that would determine if my degree was to be in Business or in Geography. I turned the cover page... and almost peed my pants. According to my tutor, statistically my Professor would recycle his exams every 1/10 of a semester which meant there was a 10% chance I would get THE exam. Well here it was, sitting on my desk laid out in the exact same order that I had practiced the night before. I wanted to puke. I checked to see if anyone else can see I was sweating bullets or hear my heart pounding. I even pinched myself several times to see if I was dreaming. As planned, I got a perfect B on my exam and graduated with a degree in Business Administration.
That day, I became a believer that I had a team "upstairs." I am a self conscious student always practicing my mindfulness that I am on the path I had set out. I watch for signs, try to read what the greater Universe is sending me and chess play according to that.
Three days ago I had ask for help again. The last two days I have been seeing a higher than normal amount of large birds following me. Like 3 hawks and 3 eagles to be exact. I don't know what that means but I have a gut feeling it's a message to the questions I am asking.
Well, this is one of those situations. Three nights ago I sent out a silent prayer for a sign as to what direction I should take. I know in my previous prayers they have always been answered. No one believes me when I tell them this but this is true.
Back in University I was failing most courses requiring numbers miserably. As economics, calculus, finance, statistics and accounting were core courses for my Business Degree I had to pass with at least a C- to graduate. I struggled through everthing but the one course that killed me was my fourth year statistics class. I failed it once already so on my second round I finally got this tutor to help me. He was actually a Stats professor from Douglas College and was very good at teaching "challenged" students such as me. He saw me struggle everyday but like a stubborn dog I kept at it, making progress but never enough to get me the C- I needed. He felt bad for me and unlike his other students that he tutored, he confessed that I was the ONLY one that never asked him to cheat for them! Apparently he had the reputation that if you showed him enough money he would do all your assignments and projects for you. I thought his high hourly rate reflected that he was just a good tutor but I never realized it was because it was a premium "cheat" rate. Even though I studied everyday, my overall mark was just a pathetic C- and I needed at least a B on my final to pass. My entire life I had excelled and the thought of dropping out of the Business Faculty made me so nauseous that I couldn't sleep. As a last resort, for two nights prior to my final exam I prayed for a miracle. The night before my tutor gave me a mock exam to test my readiness and I bombed it. I cried. He was so overwhelmed with my emotion that he left me by myself just sobbing loudly for what felt like forever. Finally he returned. This time however, he came back with a miracle.
The year prior, one of the students actually broke into his Professor's office, stole the final exam for this exact stats class and brought it back to my tutor to work out all the answers. Coincidentally, the stolen exam was written by my Professor so the probability that he would use it again was pretty good. I stared at disbelief at my tutor's offer. He told me he normally charges thousands of dollars for this but because he had a soft spot for me this was a gift from him and more importantly he would work through it with me to solve everything correctly.
I remembered driving home and reviewing in my head what my tutor instructed. If by chance my Professor actually used this exam I was to purposely get 10-12 wrong so it wouldn't look like I blatantly cheated. The entire time I was driving my hand was trembling on the steering wheel and I kept thinking I was going to crash because of my incredible luck. No way in effin hell was this happening right? I stayed up the rest of the night going over the exam because I knew that even though I didn't understand it, I can memorize it to verbatim. I went to bed and asked my team upstairs for a miracle.
The next morning I was given the final exam. This was THE exam that would determine if my degree was to be in Business or in Geography. I turned the cover page... and almost peed my pants. According to my tutor, statistically my Professor would recycle his exams every 1/10 of a semester which meant there was a 10% chance I would get THE exam. Well here it was, sitting on my desk laid out in the exact same order that I had practiced the night before. I wanted to puke. I checked to see if anyone else can see I was sweating bullets or hear my heart pounding. I even pinched myself several times to see if I was dreaming. As planned, I got a perfect B on my exam and graduated with a degree in Business Administration.
That day, I became a believer that I had a team "upstairs." I am a self conscious student always practicing my mindfulness that I am on the path I had set out. I watch for signs, try to read what the greater Universe is sending me and chess play according to that.
Three days ago I had ask for help again. The last two days I have been seeing a higher than normal amount of large birds following me. Like 3 hawks and 3 eagles to be exact. I don't know what that means but I have a gut feeling it's a message to the questions I am asking.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Treating A Pounding Headache
It is said the survival of a society is dependent on the strength of it's culture. How successful these cultural weapons are against inevitable adversities is gauged against how the society has adapted in ones ever dynamic environment. As science discovers cures for illnesses, our environment mutates and presents new ones that pushes the boundaries of our logical mind thus presenting us with the juxtaposition of testing our faith. This is the core of humanity.
Henry Ross is an average looking Cree man. Slight in physical appearance he wears the experiences of his life heavily in his eyes. His eyes are what distinguishes him that is no ordinary man. In the modern world of medicine he has acquired the skill set of a surgeon. What differentiates him is that he acquired his knowledge through many personal fastings where the Spirits teach him how to harness the power of plants (an herbalist), how to detect the source of the ailment and finally how to re-direct positive energy in order to holistically heal all three levels of the human - mind, body and soul.
A week after the sweat ceremony Henry finally returned back to his home base. I had been on edge the entire time trying to figure out what the hell I had experienced and Joyce made the wise decision to not jump to conclusions by debating with me on what unfolded. That night Steph and the Azure girls, Aliea and Merissa decided it would be fun to sleep in a tent in the back yard since it was 35 degrees out and the house felt like an oven. Knowing full well that the national Saskatchewan bird population (AKA mosquitos) were going to eat me alive, I opted to stay indoors and take my chances sweating to death.
Sometime around 3AM that night I woke up in the dead of my sleep. Bob was still up watching the movie so when I sat straight up from what looked like a deep sleep, I startled him. "You okay?" he asked. "Where's Steph?" I frantically shrieked. At first I thought something was wrong with my heart because I can hear it pounding. As I got orientated to my surroundings I realized that I can hear Joyce's voice in Henry's bedroom which was right beside the room I was sleeping in. Well that's odd. Suddenly both Joyce and Henry went outside and herded all three girls back into the house. I asked Joyce what was wrong and she just blurted out that the girls were being too loud. Tired, I fell back alseep but only after the pounding headache faded. I didn't sleep well that night.
I woke up sore and with a really massive headache. Joyce poured me a coffee at breakfast and started to study me. "You look like you had a rough night? Did you stay up all night too?" Bob told his mom I woke up in the dead of my sleep and scared the shit out of him because I sat up like a bat out of hell. "When did you wake up?" she asked. "I dunno, just before you made the girls come in from their camping out session."
Henry looks up from his crossword puzzle. I was so crabby and tired I didn't even noticed that he was standing at the kitchen counter. "The girls were pretty loud, did they wake you up?" he asked. "No, I woke up because my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it," I blurted out. When the words left my mouth I realized how insane I sounded. Joyce shot a look to Henry and then let out a huge sigh. "Oh..."
The man that has said no more than 3 sentences to me over the last 2 weeks all of a sudden started talking.
Apparently Henry started to hear owls hooting around 1AM outside which he thought was odd. He came outside to investigate and noticed not one owl but a bunch of them roosting on the roof of the house. Owls in the Cree culture are bad omens. They are messengers that something not very good was going to unfold. He then heard the sounds of drums and they were getting louder which meant that they were coming closer. Joyce woke up too around the same time I did and immediately went to see Henry because she knew something was wrong. That's when they quickly grabbed the girls and brought them back in. Henry wasn't sure what exactly was happening but he knew something was definitely wrong so he quickly performed a protective prayer encircling the home with light. The owls quickly left and the drums came close to the house but never encircled it.
Now, when I haven't had my morning coffee I am bitch. Compound that with a lack of sleep and what you have is an UBER bitch with absolutely no filter. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I respectfully asked. The information overload on an unstable system was a bit too much. To stop my hysteria, Henry continued talking.
He tells me I carry exceptional energy for someone so young. Since he seemed to be in the mood for talking I thought it was an opportune moment for me to ask if he happened to see a random Demon thingy hanging out. Henry says all my energy is light, there is no darkness to it. I share the story of my dad's "gift" to me when I was born. Henry laughs. He tells me that I have such a huge energy source that it would be difficult for darkness to challenge it. I then ask why he mentioned he saw a Crow hanging out. Henry says the Crow may just be curious as they are attracted to strange light. He mentions that in the Sweat, my energy threw off his healing abilities so it made the heat more intense then usual. He also mentions that I have an army of Spirits taking care of me and my gift is being highly intuitive so that's why I sensed things people normally wouldn't. My eyes bulge out of my head. Henry tells me not to worry and I won't see things I am not ready for. I am not convinced. Images of an evil drummer boy is burned into my retina.
Joyce mentions that last night's incident was a result of "Bad Medicine." For some reason I had a feeling she wasn't talking about taking prescription drugs and chasing it with some hard liquor.
Henry Ross is an average looking Cree man. Slight in physical appearance he wears the experiences of his life heavily in his eyes. His eyes are what distinguishes him that is no ordinary man. In the modern world of medicine he has acquired the skill set of a surgeon. What differentiates him is that he acquired his knowledge through many personal fastings where the Spirits teach him how to harness the power of plants (an herbalist), how to detect the source of the ailment and finally how to re-direct positive energy in order to holistically heal all three levels of the human - mind, body and soul.
A week after the sweat ceremony Henry finally returned back to his home base. I had been on edge the entire time trying to figure out what the hell I had experienced and Joyce made the wise decision to not jump to conclusions by debating with me on what unfolded. That night Steph and the Azure girls, Aliea and Merissa decided it would be fun to sleep in a tent in the back yard since it was 35 degrees out and the house felt like an oven. Knowing full well that the national Saskatchewan bird population (AKA mosquitos) were going to eat me alive, I opted to stay indoors and take my chances sweating to death.
Sometime around 3AM that night I woke up in the dead of my sleep. Bob was still up watching the movie so when I sat straight up from what looked like a deep sleep, I startled him. "You okay?" he asked. "Where's Steph?" I frantically shrieked. At first I thought something was wrong with my heart because I can hear it pounding. As I got orientated to my surroundings I realized that I can hear Joyce's voice in Henry's bedroom which was right beside the room I was sleeping in. Well that's odd. Suddenly both Joyce and Henry went outside and herded all three girls back into the house. I asked Joyce what was wrong and she just blurted out that the girls were being too loud. Tired, I fell back alseep but only after the pounding headache faded. I didn't sleep well that night.
I woke up sore and with a really massive headache. Joyce poured me a coffee at breakfast and started to study me. "You look like you had a rough night? Did you stay up all night too?" Bob told his mom I woke up in the dead of my sleep and scared the shit out of him because I sat up like a bat out of hell. "When did you wake up?" she asked. "I dunno, just before you made the girls come in from their camping out session."
Henry looks up from his crossword puzzle. I was so crabby and tired I didn't even noticed that he was standing at the kitchen counter. "The girls were pretty loud, did they wake you up?" he asked. "No, I woke up because my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it," I blurted out. When the words left my mouth I realized how insane I sounded. Joyce shot a look to Henry and then let out a huge sigh. "Oh..."
The man that has said no more than 3 sentences to me over the last 2 weeks all of a sudden started talking.
Apparently Henry started to hear owls hooting around 1AM outside which he thought was odd. He came outside to investigate and noticed not one owl but a bunch of them roosting on the roof of the house. Owls in the Cree culture are bad omens. They are messengers that something not very good was going to unfold. He then heard the sounds of drums and they were getting louder which meant that they were coming closer. Joyce woke up too around the same time I did and immediately went to see Henry because she knew something was wrong. That's when they quickly grabbed the girls and brought them back in. Henry wasn't sure what exactly was happening but he knew something was definitely wrong so he quickly performed a protective prayer encircling the home with light. The owls quickly left and the drums came close to the house but never encircled it.
Now, when I haven't had my morning coffee I am bitch. Compound that with a lack of sleep and what you have is an UBER bitch with absolutely no filter. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I respectfully asked. The information overload on an unstable system was a bit too much. To stop my hysteria, Henry continued talking.
He tells me I carry exceptional energy for someone so young. Since he seemed to be in the mood for talking I thought it was an opportune moment for me to ask if he happened to see a random Demon thingy hanging out. Henry says all my energy is light, there is no darkness to it. I share the story of my dad's "gift" to me when I was born. Henry laughs. He tells me that I have such a huge energy source that it would be difficult for darkness to challenge it. I then ask why he mentioned he saw a Crow hanging out. Henry says the Crow may just be curious as they are attracted to strange light. He mentions that in the Sweat, my energy threw off his healing abilities so it made the heat more intense then usual. He also mentions that I have an army of Spirits taking care of me and my gift is being highly intuitive so that's why I sensed things people normally wouldn't. My eyes bulge out of my head. Henry tells me not to worry and I won't see things I am not ready for. I am not convinced. Images of an evil drummer boy is burned into my retina.
Joyce mentions that last night's incident was a result of "Bad Medicine." For some reason I had a feeling she wasn't talking about taking prescription drugs and chasing it with some hard liquor.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Always Pee Before Going On Long Car Rides
The sweat ceremony is one of the most powerful and sacred spiritual tools for the Cree culture. Older than recorded time, this holy ceremony is to used to cleanse the mind, body and soul by calling upon Nature's elements of Earth, Fire, Water and Air. Conducted by Elders who have be blessed with the ability to communicate with the Spiritual World, these ceremonies connect the participants with Creator (God), the Spirit Helpers (comparable to the angels and others depending on your spiritual or religious practices) and our ancestors (our grandmothers and grandfathers and all the generations who came before us). There are many reasons for attending but all have the unifying purpose of lifting the veil on the world that we walk in order to reveal and understand the truths. Obviously this journey is one that cannot be taken casually as it is often transformational.
As mentioned before, my understanding of anything Sacred is pretty embarrassing. All my knowledge is garnered by TV and I'm not even talking about the good kind. I'm talking about highly educated cinematography such as "The Exorcist," and "The Shining." My parent's are Bhuddists but no longer practicing ones since emigrating to the land of The Free Will and Modern. That being said, I have a high level of respect for Faith even though ironically I personally don't have a "conventional" one.
Knowing this, Joyce went through the teachings to ensure that my first experience with her culture was an "awakening" and also as an insurance that my ignorance (AKA inside voice) didn't disrepect such a powerful ceremony. She went on to explain that the Lodge is built to symbolize the Womb of Mother Earth. There is a separate ceremony where the Elder would choose very specific rocks that are strategically placed in the center of the lodge. These rocks are the Grandfathers Spirits as they have been on this Earth since the beginning of time and are selected to ensure they can carry enough healing properties from a fire to create the "sauna" feel. Chosen correctly, the rocks will not crack when cold water is poured over it.
In Cree culture, women are very powerful Spirits as proven by the fact that most of their theology is based on the maternal spirit of Mother Earth. A woman on her "moon" cannot attend a sweat ceremony because she becomes extremely powerful during this time thus disrupting the energies that need to be redirected for healing purposes. Women need to traditionally wear long skirts and a modest top and the men usually wore tunics and pants. Practicalities such as bringing a towel, a bottle of water, eating a light meal 3-4 hours before, emptying your bladder and removing any metal from your skin was also reccommended. Also, any religious artifacts from other cultures needed to respectfully be removed.
Being a medicine man, Henry was a rare elder in that in addition to the other ceremonies he was able to also conduct healing ceremonies. As his assistant, Joyce's role was to ensure the food for the feast afterwards was prepared, donations such as blankets, tobbacco, sage and food were collected and organized for re-distribution if there was an abundance. This required Joyce to arrive at the site about an hour before the time to prepare.
Now Joyce is like my second mom so she would never put myself or Steph in any danger. "Pure" spirits are those people that have lived a good, honest life without much negativity. Being that Steph and I were quite young and very happy go lucky without a care in the world, she knew that we would not be bothered by the heat of the ceremony. Now, if you were a person that required healing emotionally, spiritually or physically then the heat of the ceremony would really affect you as the energies of the Universe work to "purge" or cleanse your negatives energies. If there was a participant that was heavily disrupted in their energies, such as a person that was a sexual abuser asking for forgiveness or a person that was infected by AIDS because of the lifestyle they chose then the heat of the ceremony would be unbearable not only for that person but for all that was sharing it.
The ceremony we were attending was for an ill man who had cancer but not due to his life choices. From her experience Joyce knew that this type of healing ceremony typically would not bother the "pure" spirits as the other Elders would do most of the heavy lifting in taking the heat. She equated the educational experience like sitting in a hot sauna.
I remembered driving in Joyce's humble car on a very rural dirt road to what seemed like in the middle of nowhere for hours. The weather was miserable. There were dark clouds, the winds were viciously whipping and the rain was pounding the poor little car. I was intrigued how a sweat ceremony would be conducted in such awful weather and even chuckled to myself as I was imagining the winds blowing over what I envisioned was a grass hut. My charming sarcastic inside voice inevitably escaped, "Maybe the Gods did not get the memo we were suppose heal a man today." Joyce ignored my tone and continued to focus on the road as the visibility was increasingly getting worse.
Finally I saw a homestead off in the distance. Remember, this is Saskatchewan so even though you see the building doesn't mean it's close by. I mean, by now I'm sure you have heard of the joke, "How do you know you're in Saskatchewan? Because you can watch your dog run away for days." Ya, well it's true. So my enthusiasm quickly waned when I realized it was more like 30 minutes aways versus 5 minutes. At that moment, the most bizarre weather phenomenon unfolded. Like a perfect movie scene, there was a small sliver of sun breaking over the homestead while everything else continued to be drenched in this torrential down pour. Steph and I shared a look of "WTF?" Joyce smiled and gently whispered, "Well, I guess Henry had no choice but to part the clouds..."
Nothing would have ever prepared me for that humble comment. Seriously? Part the clouds? Like Rainmaker style? Who says this shit anyways? Steph's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her round head and my brain started racing a million miles an hour trying to attach some type of scientifical answer to it all. Apparently this healing ceremony required the energy of the Sun so logically one would just call up the Big Guy Upstairs there and put in your order. "Oh hi Henry! Of course you needed the Sun... my bad, here you go." I must have missed that chapter in Geography class. Note to Self: Western public education is a waste of my time.
As we pulled up the entire weather system seemed to have passed over. The sun was definitely out and the angry black clouds turned wispy white revealing the intense indigo sky. The Cree folks looked curiously at Steph and I trying to figure out what kind of weird-ass Native breed were we. Joyce politely introduced us as her Vietnamese daughters which I think a collective "Aaaaaaahhh" was released when they finally figured out that we were "China Men" (as one polite Elder mentioned) and not a bizarre hybrid. Hmmmm... don't get out much on this side of the world heh?
Henry summoned to Joyce and soon we were ushered into the Sacred Lodge. Henry started his chanting and quiet prayers while I tried to keep my eyes wide open trying to not miss a thing. The heat from the water poured over the rocks obviously made everything really difficult to see as there was no light except for a few cracks in which the sun poured through. There were about a dozen people, both men and women and then us random Vietnamese rift raft. The first 20 minutes were pretty therapeautic and Joyce was right about the heat feeling as soothing as a sauna. In fact I was so relaxed between the darkness, the warmth of the heat, humidity and the rhythmic chanting that I almost fell asleep.
Well... until that bizarre arctic gush of air that hit my lungs like a stabbing icicle came. It caught me so off gaurd that I think I had to steady myself from falling over. I quickly looked over to Steph but she just looked at peace with her eyes closed... like a perfect Bhudda statue. Joyce warned me to quiet the mind, to not talk and to just listen with my soul. I resisted the urge to ask Steph if she felt that weird gush so I resumed my "meditative" state. Again my thoughts were clouded and images of a tornado or a hurricane or wild wind filled the void. It then occurred to me that the heat was increasing in the Lodge. It was no longer soothing and beads of sweat was dripping off my head. I took a gulp of water and used my towel to pat my face and then focussed on my breathing as I started to gasp. This continued for another half hour and then Henry lifted the door signalling the ceremony was over. I stumbled out into the sun straining for fresh air and trying to adjust to the light. Steph came trottling out and beamed, "Wow that was so cool! I didn't even feel hot!" Her words hit me hard.
Joyce was one of the last ones to leave the Lodge and when she finally came out she looked like she ran a bloody marathon. She looked older for some reason and absolutely exhausted. You know that look when a woman gave birth? Ya, that was her look. She commented, "That sweat was a lot harder than it should have been." She quickly ushered us into the small house that was on the land for the feast. We ate some bannock, some bland soup and some fresh blueberries. The Elders continued their conversation in Cree. Joyce was busy assisting Henry so I started to grill Steph on her experience. She just shrugged it off like it was "spa time." She enjoyed the experience and the heat never bothered her. Oh damn... not what I wanted to hear.
Finally we left and on the long car ride home Joyce started talking, but only after Steph fell asleep. She asked if I was on my "moon." I was on the pill so my period was scheduled like clockwork. I knew for a fact that it was 2 weeks away. She didn't like my answer. Apparently the ceremony had a disrupted energy as confirmed by Henry and by the fact that the Healing Elders, including Joyce, experienced an abnormal amount of intense heat. In fact, Henry had to end the ceremony earlier than usual because he was concerned the intensity would have affected Steph and I. This only happens when a female's energy was exceptionally powerful meaning she was on her moon or she carried great energy. Henry told Joyce that he thought the disruption was from me so that's why Joyce immediately assumed I was on my moon and didn't realize it. I blurted out that my experience was not at all like Steph's. That I was dying near the end because I was so hot and strange ass visions of a tornado kept popping up. Oh, and my lungs were filled with really cold air in the beginning. There was an awkward moment of silence.
Joyce revealed that one of her Guardian Spirits was a Princess that lived hundreds of years ago and her element was a Tornado. She apparently was present at this ceremony to help heal the ill man but the fact that I sensed her was extraordinary. Damn it, I knew I should have peed before I left for the car ride home.
As mentioned before, my understanding of anything Sacred is pretty embarrassing. All my knowledge is garnered by TV and I'm not even talking about the good kind. I'm talking about highly educated cinematography such as "The Exorcist," and "The Shining." My parent's are Bhuddists but no longer practicing ones since emigrating to the land of The Free Will and Modern. That being said, I have a high level of respect for Faith even though ironically I personally don't have a "conventional" one.
Knowing this, Joyce went through the teachings to ensure that my first experience with her culture was an "awakening" and also as an insurance that my ignorance (AKA inside voice) didn't disrepect such a powerful ceremony. She went on to explain that the Lodge is built to symbolize the Womb of Mother Earth. There is a separate ceremony where the Elder would choose very specific rocks that are strategically placed in the center of the lodge. These rocks are the Grandfathers Spirits as they have been on this Earth since the beginning of time and are selected to ensure they can carry enough healing properties from a fire to create the "sauna" feel. Chosen correctly, the rocks will not crack when cold water is poured over it.
In Cree culture, women are very powerful Spirits as proven by the fact that most of their theology is based on the maternal spirit of Mother Earth. A woman on her "moon" cannot attend a sweat ceremony because she becomes extremely powerful during this time thus disrupting the energies that need to be redirected for healing purposes. Women need to traditionally wear long skirts and a modest top and the men usually wore tunics and pants. Practicalities such as bringing a towel, a bottle of water, eating a light meal 3-4 hours before, emptying your bladder and removing any metal from your skin was also reccommended. Also, any religious artifacts from other cultures needed to respectfully be removed.
Being a medicine man, Henry was a rare elder in that in addition to the other ceremonies he was able to also conduct healing ceremonies. As his assistant, Joyce's role was to ensure the food for the feast afterwards was prepared, donations such as blankets, tobbacco, sage and food were collected and organized for re-distribution if there was an abundance. This required Joyce to arrive at the site about an hour before the time to prepare.
Now Joyce is like my second mom so she would never put myself or Steph in any danger. "Pure" spirits are those people that have lived a good, honest life without much negativity. Being that Steph and I were quite young and very happy go lucky without a care in the world, she knew that we would not be bothered by the heat of the ceremony. Now, if you were a person that required healing emotionally, spiritually or physically then the heat of the ceremony would really affect you as the energies of the Universe work to "purge" or cleanse your negatives energies. If there was a participant that was heavily disrupted in their energies, such as a person that was a sexual abuser asking for forgiveness or a person that was infected by AIDS because of the lifestyle they chose then the heat of the ceremony would be unbearable not only for that person but for all that was sharing it.
The ceremony we were attending was for an ill man who had cancer but not due to his life choices. From her experience Joyce knew that this type of healing ceremony typically would not bother the "pure" spirits as the other Elders would do most of the heavy lifting in taking the heat. She equated the educational experience like sitting in a hot sauna.
I remembered driving in Joyce's humble car on a very rural dirt road to what seemed like in the middle of nowhere for hours. The weather was miserable. There were dark clouds, the winds were viciously whipping and the rain was pounding the poor little car. I was intrigued how a sweat ceremony would be conducted in such awful weather and even chuckled to myself as I was imagining the winds blowing over what I envisioned was a grass hut. My charming sarcastic inside voice inevitably escaped, "Maybe the Gods did not get the memo we were suppose heal a man today." Joyce ignored my tone and continued to focus on the road as the visibility was increasingly getting worse.
Finally I saw a homestead off in the distance. Remember, this is Saskatchewan so even though you see the building doesn't mean it's close by. I mean, by now I'm sure you have heard of the joke, "How do you know you're in Saskatchewan? Because you can watch your dog run away for days." Ya, well it's true. So my enthusiasm quickly waned when I realized it was more like 30 minutes aways versus 5 minutes. At that moment, the most bizarre weather phenomenon unfolded. Like a perfect movie scene, there was a small sliver of sun breaking over the homestead while everything else continued to be drenched in this torrential down pour. Steph and I shared a look of "WTF?" Joyce smiled and gently whispered, "Well, I guess Henry had no choice but to part the clouds..."
Nothing would have ever prepared me for that humble comment. Seriously? Part the clouds? Like Rainmaker style? Who says this shit anyways? Steph's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her round head and my brain started racing a million miles an hour trying to attach some type of scientifical answer to it all. Apparently this healing ceremony required the energy of the Sun so logically one would just call up the Big Guy Upstairs there and put in your order. "Oh hi Henry! Of course you needed the Sun... my bad, here you go." I must have missed that chapter in Geography class. Note to Self: Western public education is a waste of my time.
As we pulled up the entire weather system seemed to have passed over. The sun was definitely out and the angry black clouds turned wispy white revealing the intense indigo sky. The Cree folks looked curiously at Steph and I trying to figure out what kind of weird-ass Native breed were we. Joyce politely introduced us as her Vietnamese daughters which I think a collective "Aaaaaaahhh" was released when they finally figured out that we were "China Men" (as one polite Elder mentioned) and not a bizarre hybrid. Hmmmm... don't get out much on this side of the world heh?
Henry summoned to Joyce and soon we were ushered into the Sacred Lodge. Henry started his chanting and quiet prayers while I tried to keep my eyes wide open trying to not miss a thing. The heat from the water poured over the rocks obviously made everything really difficult to see as there was no light except for a few cracks in which the sun poured through. There were about a dozen people, both men and women and then us random Vietnamese rift raft. The first 20 minutes were pretty therapeautic and Joyce was right about the heat feeling as soothing as a sauna. In fact I was so relaxed between the darkness, the warmth of the heat, humidity and the rhythmic chanting that I almost fell asleep.
Well... until that bizarre arctic gush of air that hit my lungs like a stabbing icicle came. It caught me so off gaurd that I think I had to steady myself from falling over. I quickly looked over to Steph but she just looked at peace with her eyes closed... like a perfect Bhudda statue. Joyce warned me to quiet the mind, to not talk and to just listen with my soul. I resisted the urge to ask Steph if she felt that weird gush so I resumed my "meditative" state. Again my thoughts were clouded and images of a tornado or a hurricane or wild wind filled the void. It then occurred to me that the heat was increasing in the Lodge. It was no longer soothing and beads of sweat was dripping off my head. I took a gulp of water and used my towel to pat my face and then focussed on my breathing as I started to gasp. This continued for another half hour and then Henry lifted the door signalling the ceremony was over. I stumbled out into the sun straining for fresh air and trying to adjust to the light. Steph came trottling out and beamed, "Wow that was so cool! I didn't even feel hot!" Her words hit me hard.
Joyce was one of the last ones to leave the Lodge and when she finally came out she looked like she ran a bloody marathon. She looked older for some reason and absolutely exhausted. You know that look when a woman gave birth? Ya, that was her look. She commented, "That sweat was a lot harder than it should have been." She quickly ushered us into the small house that was on the land for the feast. We ate some bannock, some bland soup and some fresh blueberries. The Elders continued their conversation in Cree. Joyce was busy assisting Henry so I started to grill Steph on her experience. She just shrugged it off like it was "spa time." She enjoyed the experience and the heat never bothered her. Oh damn... not what I wanted to hear.
Finally we left and on the long car ride home Joyce started talking, but only after Steph fell asleep. She asked if I was on my "moon." I was on the pill so my period was scheduled like clockwork. I knew for a fact that it was 2 weeks away. She didn't like my answer. Apparently the ceremony had a disrupted energy as confirmed by Henry and by the fact that the Healing Elders, including Joyce, experienced an abnormal amount of intense heat. In fact, Henry had to end the ceremony earlier than usual because he was concerned the intensity would have affected Steph and I. This only happens when a female's energy was exceptionally powerful meaning she was on her moon or she carried great energy. Henry told Joyce that he thought the disruption was from me so that's why Joyce immediately assumed I was on my moon and didn't realize it. I blurted out that my experience was not at all like Steph's. That I was dying near the end because I was so hot and strange ass visions of a tornado kept popping up. Oh, and my lungs were filled with really cold air in the beginning. There was an awkward moment of silence.
Joyce revealed that one of her Guardian Spirits was a Princess that lived hundreds of years ago and her element was a Tornado. She apparently was present at this ceremony to help heal the ill man but the fact that I sensed her was extraordinary. Damn it, I knew I should have peed before I left for the car ride home.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Bird Watching
Up until Grade 12 I really had no religion or solid form of spirituality guiding me. My parents instilled strong values and principles of what was right and what was wrong and that's what I had relied on to navigate this complicated Earth.
My parents immigrated here from Vietnam when I was one and arrived with literally nothing. I can't even be cliche and say, "with just the clothes on their backs" because shortly after being rescued at sea, the Phillipines officials made everyone strip to incinerate all the clothing as a precaution against infectuous diseases spreading amongst the refugee camps. Growing up, my parents worked very hard to ensure our tummy were always full, our clothes were clean and we had a warm and safe place to sleep and play. We did not have much money yet we were very weathly. In this simplicity we were taught to appreciate everything we had so I grew up as a pretty happy go lucky kid with many memories of laughter. Luckily I had a very sheltered life which meant I never had to question the existence of anything that I couldn't feel, see, touch, smell, hear or taste. Well, until I turned 18.
In 1991 we moved in a fourplex where we quickly befriended the Azure family. They had a similar dynamic consisting of 3 kids with similar ages so between the 6 of us, we always had someone to play with. The Azures moved back to Saskatchewan 2 years later and we have kept in touch ever since. In the summer of 1996 I was lucky enough to spend three weeks with the Azures on the reserve of Muskoday - which is about a 30 minute drive from Prince Albert in Saskatchewan. They had a medicine man residing with them mainly to teach Joyce (the mother) the art of Native healing. If you met Henry, nothing about the very average looking Native elder would ever lead you to believe that he created miracles. Like, this man had a reputation of curing Cancer and AIDS. Being a critical thinker, I was skeptical of his "abilities" but not challenging to the point that I was narrow minded or rude about it.
The first time I met Henry I could tell he was analyzing me. He had an intense stare and was a man of very little words. For some random reason we were discussing everyone's "totem". A totem is the animal spirit that guides each Native person. I remember laughing at Bob's totem (one of the Azure boys) and teasingly asked if it was a Donkey since most of the time Bob was very good at making himself look like a jack-ass. In defence, Bob proudly anounced it was an animal of a more noble pedigree. I sneered in doubt. Henry was quietly at the kitchen table with his back to us doing his own thing when he suddenly whipped his chair around. Our eyes deadlocked and with the same intensity he blurted out, "I think yours is a Crow because one keeps following you." Besides saying "Hi" when we were first introduced this was the most Henry spoke to me during the entire week.
Gulp. Breathe. My depth of religion is very shallow but for some reason I knew what Crows signified from watching movies. Ya... A.W.K.W.A.R.D. I broke my eye contact with Henry and he nonchalantly turned around resuming to whatever he was doing.
That night I had a quiet moment with Joyce to myself so I bravely recalled Henry's strange observation for her analysis. She was a little shocked. Usually medicine men needed to go into a sweat lodge to receive guidance about another person's totem or native name. Unless of course their animal totem is so strong and therefore very visible that even an untranced spiritual person can see them. Fascinating. I think I peed my panties. Joyce detected my uneasiness so she broke the tension by saying that she'll ask him what he exactly meant because having a Crow totem had heavy implications. Why couldn't he have said something cuddly like a bunny rabbit or maybe a hamster? Hell, at this point I would have even taken the Donkey over the Crow. Jeezes...
The Crow has many meanings depending on the culture. The closest I found in definition to the Cree culture as explained to me by Joyce can be found here: http://hubpages.com/hub/Crow-Totem-Meanings.
A week later, Joyce finally got back to me as Henry was away travelling to a sweat lodge ceremony. She clarified that Henry did mention he keeps see a Crow following me but he actually doesn't think it's my birth totem because my energy is so different from the Crow's. Great... the plot thickens. Again, he would need to fast in a sweat ceremony and ask but it is very peculiar because this is the first time he has ever encountered this. Awesome... the story just gets better.
Now I have a confession. I am the biggest chicken shit when it comes to "scary" things. Like I don't watch horror movies, I can't listen to ghost stories and I don't have the stomach for anything paranormal. I will be the first idiot breaking down and crying in a fetal position should I ever see something that was not grounded in this world. My imagination is my gift and also my threat. I can read a scary story and my vivid imagination would betray me, meaning I would not sleep for weeks as the images are burnt into my head.
So as you can appreciate, the "stories" of my monkey on my back has me on heightened alert. Who knows why the hell the medicine man can see a damn Crow following me everywhere. I wish I can say Henry was a drunk and smoked maybe one too many sweet grasses but that gut feeling somehow told me that even if that was the case... the coincidences are too many for me to ignore at this point. I travelled to the other side of the Earth to have a Demon test his chompers on me and now in the Land of Eh, a medicine man is birdwatching wherever I go. All smashingly poetic.
Traditionally, one needs to find their totem through their own spiritual journey. You need to basically go solo into nature and create a sweat lodge of your own where you fast and meditate and in that trance, an animal spirit would select you. Considering my dad would karate chop Joyce into a million pieces if she actually sent his city-slick daughter into the woods by herself with no food, a bottle of water and a machete, it was obvious we needed another method to our questions. I needed answers and Joyce can tell. "You can come to a sweat lodge with me next week if you would like. We might not get your answers but you never know."
Sounds good. How hard can a sweat lodge be? I spent 4 weeks dying of heat and humidity in Vietnam fighting off swarms of bugs (and apparently one demon). I figured if I surivived shopping at noon in the heart of Saigon - which was equivalent to being in a toxic pressure cooker because the population of a million people are bargaining in a block of land - that this sweat lodge thing would be a walk in the park.
I was certain this sweat lodge thing would probably feel like a nice sauna right? Ya right...
My parents immigrated here from Vietnam when I was one and arrived with literally nothing. I can't even be cliche and say, "with just the clothes on their backs" because shortly after being rescued at sea, the Phillipines officials made everyone strip to incinerate all the clothing as a precaution against infectuous diseases spreading amongst the refugee camps. Growing up, my parents worked very hard to ensure our tummy were always full, our clothes were clean and we had a warm and safe place to sleep and play. We did not have much money yet we were very weathly. In this simplicity we were taught to appreciate everything we had so I grew up as a pretty happy go lucky kid with many memories of laughter. Luckily I had a very sheltered life which meant I never had to question the existence of anything that I couldn't feel, see, touch, smell, hear or taste. Well, until I turned 18.
In 1991 we moved in a fourplex where we quickly befriended the Azure family. They had a similar dynamic consisting of 3 kids with similar ages so between the 6 of us, we always had someone to play with. The Azures moved back to Saskatchewan 2 years later and we have kept in touch ever since. In the summer of 1996 I was lucky enough to spend three weeks with the Azures on the reserve of Muskoday - which is about a 30 minute drive from Prince Albert in Saskatchewan. They had a medicine man residing with them mainly to teach Joyce (the mother) the art of Native healing. If you met Henry, nothing about the very average looking Native elder would ever lead you to believe that he created miracles. Like, this man had a reputation of curing Cancer and AIDS. Being a critical thinker, I was skeptical of his "abilities" but not challenging to the point that I was narrow minded or rude about it.
The first time I met Henry I could tell he was analyzing me. He had an intense stare and was a man of very little words. For some random reason we were discussing everyone's "totem". A totem is the animal spirit that guides each Native person. I remember laughing at Bob's totem (one of the Azure boys) and teasingly asked if it was a Donkey since most of the time Bob was very good at making himself look like a jack-ass. In defence, Bob proudly anounced it was an animal of a more noble pedigree. I sneered in doubt. Henry was quietly at the kitchen table with his back to us doing his own thing when he suddenly whipped his chair around. Our eyes deadlocked and with the same intensity he blurted out, "I think yours is a Crow because one keeps following you." Besides saying "Hi" when we were first introduced this was the most Henry spoke to me during the entire week.
Gulp. Breathe. My depth of religion is very shallow but for some reason I knew what Crows signified from watching movies. Ya... A.W.K.W.A.R.D. I broke my eye contact with Henry and he nonchalantly turned around resuming to whatever he was doing.
That night I had a quiet moment with Joyce to myself so I bravely recalled Henry's strange observation for her analysis. She was a little shocked. Usually medicine men needed to go into a sweat lodge to receive guidance about another person's totem or native name. Unless of course their animal totem is so strong and therefore very visible that even an untranced spiritual person can see them. Fascinating. I think I peed my panties. Joyce detected my uneasiness so she broke the tension by saying that she'll ask him what he exactly meant because having a Crow totem had heavy implications. Why couldn't he have said something cuddly like a bunny rabbit or maybe a hamster? Hell, at this point I would have even taken the Donkey over the Crow. Jeezes...
The Crow has many meanings depending on the culture. The closest I found in definition to the Cree culture as explained to me by Joyce can be found here: http://hubpages.com/hub/Crow-Totem-Meanings.
A week later, Joyce finally got back to me as Henry was away travelling to a sweat lodge ceremony. She clarified that Henry did mention he keeps see a Crow following me but he actually doesn't think it's my birth totem because my energy is so different from the Crow's. Great... the plot thickens. Again, he would need to fast in a sweat ceremony and ask but it is very peculiar because this is the first time he has ever encountered this. Awesome... the story just gets better.
Now I have a confession. I am the biggest chicken shit when it comes to "scary" things. Like I don't watch horror movies, I can't listen to ghost stories and I don't have the stomach for anything paranormal. I will be the first idiot breaking down and crying in a fetal position should I ever see something that was not grounded in this world. My imagination is my gift and also my threat. I can read a scary story and my vivid imagination would betray me, meaning I would not sleep for weeks as the images are burnt into my head.
So as you can appreciate, the "stories" of my monkey on my back has me on heightened alert. Who knows why the hell the medicine man can see a damn Crow following me everywhere. I wish I can say Henry was a drunk and smoked maybe one too many sweet grasses but that gut feeling somehow told me that even if that was the case... the coincidences are too many for me to ignore at this point. I travelled to the other side of the Earth to have a Demon test his chompers on me and now in the Land of Eh, a medicine man is birdwatching wherever I go. All smashingly poetic.
Traditionally, one needs to find their totem through their own spiritual journey. You need to basically go solo into nature and create a sweat lodge of your own where you fast and meditate and in that trance, an animal spirit would select you. Considering my dad would karate chop Joyce into a million pieces if she actually sent his city-slick daughter into the woods by herself with no food, a bottle of water and a machete, it was obvious we needed another method to our questions. I needed answers and Joyce can tell. "You can come to a sweat lodge with me next week if you would like. We might not get your answers but you never know."
Sounds good. How hard can a sweat lodge be? I spent 4 weeks dying of heat and humidity in Vietnam fighting off swarms of bugs (and apparently one demon). I figured if I surivived shopping at noon in the heart of Saigon - which was equivalent to being in a toxic pressure cooker because the population of a million people are bargaining in a block of land - that this sweat lodge thing would be a walk in the park.
I was certain this sweat lodge thing would probably feel like a nice sauna right? Ya right...
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Guess Who's Got My Back?
I have some very strange stories. Like the kind that you think a kid makes up when they want to get attention. The problem is I am an adult, and they're true. Unbelievable and bizarre, but definitely true. Whenever I divulge these details to my close friends their usual and understandable response is one filled with wonderment, followed by disbelief and then ending with a questioning look.
So here's the first part of my story. Before I was born, my father practiced a form of martial arts that engaged the spiritual plane. If you follow Japanese Anime storylines, there is usually a ballsy dude that essentially fights "demons". Well, this was my father. Some people pick up knitting or gardening as a hobby. My father preferred beating the crap out of evil spirits. Being the confident person that he was, he decided one day to wager his honed skills with the "big kahuna" of all demons. If he lost, the Demon can take possession of his first born. Should he win, the Demon would be an appointed guardian to the same said child. That's how much balls my dad had. "Luckily" for me, my dad won. I use this term loosely because even to this day I am not sure how I feel about having such a dark entity watching my back. One of the "gifts" of being born with a Demon guardian is apparently the natural ability to access your intuitive side. Some refer to this as the 6th sense, the spiritual element or the psychic plane. Yes, I will be the first to say it, this is some weird-ass shit.
My dad told me this story when I was younger and over the years more and more details were added to it. I always thought that this was just one of those Vietnamese "boogy-man" folklore stories designed to keep kids in line. I would have happily kept it categorized that way except for the fact that way too many coincidences started backing up my dad's story.
My family went back to the motherland (Vietnam) for the first time ever in the Christmas of 1995. My paternal grandmother lived on this tiny island that is so remote it can only be accessed by boat. At the time most homes had no power, fresh water was still drawn by a central well in the village and the bathroom was an outhouse. As foreigners, we were eaten alive by the local insect population so it was customary that we would sleep under mosquito netting at nights to fend off the nightly feasting. The first night I was there my sister, brother and I crammed ourselves under the only mosquito netting available. That night, I had a horrible dream about something suffocating me. The sensation is equivalent to having someone double your weight sitting on your chest thus causing you to gasp for every breath of air. I woke up the next morning and my left arm was covered with the most bizarre marks near my wrist. They were not welts from bug bites. I knew what those looked like because I had them all over my legs. They looked like bites marks from a super tiny mouth and the strangest thing is that they were purple. I showed my mom and I will never forget the look on her face. She went pale and then started to look extremely uneasy. While she quietly went to find my dad I showed one of my relatives my arm and he blurted out, "Ma can!" which translates to "Demon bites."
My dad came rushing in and I can tell from his body language that this was no friggin' bug bite. The entire house started to get excited and everyone was frantically whispering to each other. I can sense something was not right and when I asked my dad what was wrong, he tried to play it off that it was the most bizarre insect bite he has ever seen. He quickly gathered up the gawking relatives and ushered them into another room leaving my mom to tend to my wounds. As the elders debated something in the next room over, I was analyzing Lairay and Stephanie to see if they had been bitten in the same manner. Nope... they just had your run of the mill mosquito welts. Strange, we all slept on the same bed under the same netting. I was then straining to listen to their conversation. I couldn't catch much because my mom was trying to distract me with idle chat about what we were going to eat for the day. What I did manage to hear was bits and pieces. My grandma was yelling at my dad for wagering me against the Demon. She said something like he was a fool to think that the Demon would keep his word. One of my uncles was defending my dad saying that it's not HER demon, it's another demon. After the family meeting my dad came back and announced that we were promptly leaving the island.
When I asked and probed and pestered, everyone dismissed the incident as a bug bite. I was finally able to trick my favorite aunt about 2 weeks later. We were relaxing on the beaches of Nha Trang and she had her guard down. I manipulatively asked her, "Why did the Demon bite me? Why not Steph or Lairay or even dad?" She nonchalantly blurted out, "Because you're the one that can see them." When she realized she was essentially cornered she quickly changed the topic.
This was the first of many stories that supported my dad's bizarre story of his previous recreational activities.
So here's the first part of my story. Before I was born, my father practiced a form of martial arts that engaged the spiritual plane. If you follow Japanese Anime storylines, there is usually a ballsy dude that essentially fights "demons". Well, this was my father. Some people pick up knitting or gardening as a hobby. My father preferred beating the crap out of evil spirits. Being the confident person that he was, he decided one day to wager his honed skills with the "big kahuna" of all demons. If he lost, the Demon can take possession of his first born. Should he win, the Demon would be an appointed guardian to the same said child. That's how much balls my dad had. "Luckily" for me, my dad won. I use this term loosely because even to this day I am not sure how I feel about having such a dark entity watching my back. One of the "gifts" of being born with a Demon guardian is apparently the natural ability to access your intuitive side. Some refer to this as the 6th sense, the spiritual element or the psychic plane. Yes, I will be the first to say it, this is some weird-ass shit.
My dad told me this story when I was younger and over the years more and more details were added to it. I always thought that this was just one of those Vietnamese "boogy-man" folklore stories designed to keep kids in line. I would have happily kept it categorized that way except for the fact that way too many coincidences started backing up my dad's story.
My family went back to the motherland (Vietnam) for the first time ever in the Christmas of 1995. My paternal grandmother lived on this tiny island that is so remote it can only be accessed by boat. At the time most homes had no power, fresh water was still drawn by a central well in the village and the bathroom was an outhouse. As foreigners, we were eaten alive by the local insect population so it was customary that we would sleep under mosquito netting at nights to fend off the nightly feasting. The first night I was there my sister, brother and I crammed ourselves under the only mosquito netting available. That night, I had a horrible dream about something suffocating me. The sensation is equivalent to having someone double your weight sitting on your chest thus causing you to gasp for every breath of air. I woke up the next morning and my left arm was covered with the most bizarre marks near my wrist. They were not welts from bug bites. I knew what those looked like because I had them all over my legs. They looked like bites marks from a super tiny mouth and the strangest thing is that they were purple. I showed my mom and I will never forget the look on her face. She went pale and then started to look extremely uneasy. While she quietly went to find my dad I showed one of my relatives my arm and he blurted out, "Ma can!" which translates to "Demon bites."
My dad came rushing in and I can tell from his body language that this was no friggin' bug bite. The entire house started to get excited and everyone was frantically whispering to each other. I can sense something was not right and when I asked my dad what was wrong, he tried to play it off that it was the most bizarre insect bite he has ever seen. He quickly gathered up the gawking relatives and ushered them into another room leaving my mom to tend to my wounds. As the elders debated something in the next room over, I was analyzing Lairay and Stephanie to see if they had been bitten in the same manner. Nope... they just had your run of the mill mosquito welts. Strange, we all slept on the same bed under the same netting. I was then straining to listen to their conversation. I couldn't catch much because my mom was trying to distract me with idle chat about what we were going to eat for the day. What I did manage to hear was bits and pieces. My grandma was yelling at my dad for wagering me against the Demon. She said something like he was a fool to think that the Demon would keep his word. One of my uncles was defending my dad saying that it's not HER demon, it's another demon. After the family meeting my dad came back and announced that we were promptly leaving the island.
When I asked and probed and pestered, everyone dismissed the incident as a bug bite. I was finally able to trick my favorite aunt about 2 weeks later. We were relaxing on the beaches of Nha Trang and she had her guard down. I manipulatively asked her, "Why did the Demon bite me? Why not Steph or Lairay or even dad?" She nonchalantly blurted out, "Because you're the one that can see them." When she realized she was essentially cornered she quickly changed the topic.
This was the first of many stories that supported my dad's bizarre story of his previous recreational activities.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The Identity Crisis
Yesterday my mom announced with great gusto at dinner that she will volunteeringly drive Tai to Vietnamese school every weekend so he can study the native language when he turns five. I groaned as the memories came flooding back.
My parent's dedication to our heritage started when I was in Grade 4. Every damn weekend I would get knots in my stomach as my parents literally dragged all 3 of us into the car kicking and screaming because we resented spending 4 hours of our "free time" learning the Vietnamese language. When we moved from Vancouver to Richmond, the anxiety got worse because we had a full 45 minutes of commuting to stew in our anger. I remembered the dreaded school, the awful smells of the Commercial Drive neighborhood and also skipping out on 50% of my classes to play at the playground or making daisy chains in the fields. I was too young to coordinate a three-way "hooky" sessions with my siblings but near the end of my tenure I was savvy enough to spring them from their shackles as well. Even after my slacker attendance record, I was always at the top of my classes as mastering the reading and writing portion came naturally. It's my conversational Vietnamese that's embarrassing.
I think I finally stopped going sometime in Grade 8 or Grade 9. I made a plea to my parents that the Saturday dedication was impacting my "real" school and I would prefer to allocate study time towards grades that would get me into University. When they actually bought my pathetic argument (I never actually had to study anything until I was in University) I remembered having this huge weight lifted from my shoulders and simultaneously I can see the sadness in my Mom's eyes that the inevitable was going to happen.
This year I turn 33. I speak "Vinglesh", half broken Vietnamese and half English. Although I still have Grade 8 reading skills, I totally bastardize the language when I speak to my parents and family. Growing up, I never saw the value of being multilingual. As an adult, I regret not mastering what essentially is a core of my identity.
When my mom proudly announced her plan to Tai, I saw that glimmer that died so many years ago light up again in her eyes. Tai is extremely excited to go to school - any school - so he fuelled her enthusiasm with, "Yay I will like to go to Vietnamese school! Then I can see what all the Vietnamese people look like!"
You know that familiar scene when you watch a sitcom and the camera slowly pans over to the main character's face after they were thrown under the bus by their partner in crime? Ya, well that was my look. Half shocked, half confused and 100% embarrassed. Being the supporting father that Chris is, he starts laughing so hard snorts had to be used to bring oxygen back into his lungs.
So for the record, I thought I was pretty diligent in teaching my halfie son that his "skin" color is half white (like Daddy's) and half yellow (like Mommy's). We also work on difficult social constructs such as "blended families" (Linda is re-married) and why Grandpa Manson (Chris' dad) is not a part of his life. Not easy concepts for a young man of all 4 years.
So apparently it is true. Even after my diligent efforts to educate Tai of his unique ethnicity he proves that children do not see the world in categories. The identity crisis will inevitably come later in life as society continues to label him as to what he is and what he's not in accordance to what I'm not sure. But in the meantime, I will enjoy this brief moment of his innoncence because if anything, this is where true harmony lies.
My parent's dedication to our heritage started when I was in Grade 4. Every damn weekend I would get knots in my stomach as my parents literally dragged all 3 of us into the car kicking and screaming because we resented spending 4 hours of our "free time" learning the Vietnamese language. When we moved from Vancouver to Richmond, the anxiety got worse because we had a full 45 minutes of commuting to stew in our anger. I remembered the dreaded school, the awful smells of the Commercial Drive neighborhood and also skipping out on 50% of my classes to play at the playground or making daisy chains in the fields. I was too young to coordinate a three-way "hooky" sessions with my siblings but near the end of my tenure I was savvy enough to spring them from their shackles as well. Even after my slacker attendance record, I was always at the top of my classes as mastering the reading and writing portion came naturally. It's my conversational Vietnamese that's embarrassing.
I think I finally stopped going sometime in Grade 8 or Grade 9. I made a plea to my parents that the Saturday dedication was impacting my "real" school and I would prefer to allocate study time towards grades that would get me into University. When they actually bought my pathetic argument (I never actually had to study anything until I was in University) I remembered having this huge weight lifted from my shoulders and simultaneously I can see the sadness in my Mom's eyes that the inevitable was going to happen.
This year I turn 33. I speak "Vinglesh", half broken Vietnamese and half English. Although I still have Grade 8 reading skills, I totally bastardize the language when I speak to my parents and family. Growing up, I never saw the value of being multilingual. As an adult, I regret not mastering what essentially is a core of my identity.
When my mom proudly announced her plan to Tai, I saw that glimmer that died so many years ago light up again in her eyes. Tai is extremely excited to go to school - any school - so he fuelled her enthusiasm with, "Yay I will like to go to Vietnamese school! Then I can see what all the Vietnamese people look like!"
You know that familiar scene when you watch a sitcom and the camera slowly pans over to the main character's face after they were thrown under the bus by their partner in crime? Ya, well that was my look. Half shocked, half confused and 100% embarrassed. Being the supporting father that Chris is, he starts laughing so hard snorts had to be used to bring oxygen back into his lungs.
So for the record, I thought I was pretty diligent in teaching my halfie son that his "skin" color is half white (like Daddy's) and half yellow (like Mommy's). We also work on difficult social constructs such as "blended families" (Linda is re-married) and why Grandpa Manson (Chris' dad) is not a part of his life. Not easy concepts for a young man of all 4 years.
So apparently it is true. Even after my diligent efforts to educate Tai of his unique ethnicity he proves that children do not see the world in categories. The identity crisis will inevitably come later in life as society continues to label him as to what he is and what he's not in accordance to what I'm not sure. But in the meantime, I will enjoy this brief moment of his innoncence because if anything, this is where true harmony lies.
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