It's Not My (fuckin') Concern

 A cousin of mine has lost two of his feet. He lost one foot, than he lost a finger, than another foot. Yeah, he has the diabetes. The guy was never obese and had been always active. Sure he is older now, about 67 or so. I keep meeting guys in my reserve who are losing parts to their bodies and it's from the diabetes. I asked a few of them, "what the hell happened?" This one guy is about five or six years younger than me. He has a tip of his finger gone. He said, "It just fell off. There was a little black dot and next thing you know my finger tip just rotted off." Another guy has some of his toes gone and he said the same thing, little black dot and then the doctor says "got to go," and then snip they took them. It never was any business of mine when people started to lose feet legs from amputation. Now it is my fuckin' concern because I got the diabetes. I was recently put on insulin for  my sugar numbers being high as the heavens. So that was kind of a shitty moment in my life. Don't get me wrong, I have had my good share of shitty moments in my life; you know suicide of my son and high number of deaths in the Reserve. The news of insulin made me quite mournful. Mournful of youth, mournful of mistakes in my life made by me. You see, I never don't think of stuff being on me. I was always at the edge of the pool when it came to wild waves of things. My cousin shoots his wife, I was 15 and he was my older cousin, but wasn't me. A friend of mine hanged himself, I was 15 but it was his family and not me. A car accident killing 5 in front of our house, I was about 8 or 9 but remember it well (our house was on Deadman's curve). The Aunties house burning down across the highway from us. I was about 14 or 15. Nothing left but the concrete footing of the house. I remember the power lines sparking around and just whipping around on the ground. My cousins without a home, but it wasn't me. 

It's by the edge of the pool but we're not diving in, falling in, or even putting or feet in. It's tragic but not really our fuckin' concern. We have a roof, a bed, a home. You know the world is in a bad way right now. The Earth will always be the Earth, but the world with human beings is in a bad way. But it's not our fuckin' concern. 

Suicide has not really been a concern of mine. Sure I did my first suicide attempt at 17 (gun misfire or no Steve, no kids, not blog). My fixation with suicide, didn't come to much later in life. Again, it was around us and we were not in the pool. My nephew Jay took his own life, long before his cousin, my son took his life. Still at the time of my nephew it was not me. It was me but I still  was just at the edge of the pool. My nieces and the  cousins around is age were more in the pool than edge. It is weird that even things right close to us are still not our fuckin' concern. It's not us, not me. 

I just saw on social media a doctors post about Loss of Ejaculation when diabetes is long in your life. I was thinking, "I don't know how to feel about that?" I mean, am I going to dip in the pool over this, or just keep sitting at the edge of the pool? And! to make matters worse, look at this: "Erectile dysfuntion (ED) affects approximately 34% to 45% of men with diabetes and has been demonstrated to negatively impact quality of life..."  No damn shit, your quality of life is negatively impacted. God damn, talk about jumping headfirst (get it) deep into the fucking pool. No just dangling your feet in the water by the edge. Is it in in our fucking concern? Since I am not considered a full-blown type 2 diabetic. The loss of ejaculation is weird though, don't you think. I mean if Larry Flint thought us anything, it was the quintessential representation of ejaculation is on the face or breasts. With limited ejaculation you are nothing it would seem. Not that I care about following the masses with ejaculation adventures. 

I wonder what else we believe where it's not my fucking concern? Earth quakes happening in Venezuela. Genocide in Palestine and deliberately targeting kids.  On the good side, "more than 100 Catholic bishops, nuns, priests and parishioners joined a procession across the U.S.-Mexico border, urging the U.S. government to treat migrants with dignity and respect." I am not sure if this makes my concern, but what does these days.  I am happy to hear about animal bridges being built. Like last year Colorado made the biggest animal bridge across a super busy highway. And, and get this, deforestation in the Amazon (no not the rotten Jeff Bezos empire) has dropped by 24 percent. You can thank the Indigenous people and the gain in world looking for alternative energy. It is in my fucking concern, because the forests around the world clean the air for all of us. 

My Reserve Chief and Councilors seem happy in their roles but that is not my fucking concern. 

   

I would pay a 100 bucks to see that

 I remember the episode of The Sopranos where Vito is beat to death and a shaft is shoved up his butt. The Lisbeth Salander avenging her rape with shoving a sliver dildo up the butt of her tormentor/rapist. Those fictional shows were memorable. I would pay for a memorable episode right now for some certain villains of society.

I would pay a 100 dollars to see the Orange dude (Mr. pedophile Trump) have a similar experience of anal exploration by Lisbeth Salander or by the old Hillary Clinton lady. Now that would be something the public would love to see.

I would pay a 100 dollars to see the Orange dude (Mr. wants to sodomize his daughter Trump) slide down one of the big twirling water slides, the ones that you exit at a 100 miles an hour and have the same experience on the Schlitterbahn Water Park in Kansas. You know, the infamous decapitating slide. 

I would pay 100 dollars to see Danielle Smith sit in one of James Arthur Ray's Warrior Sweat Lodge. I wonder if she would fare better than James Shore or Kirby Brown. 

I would pay 10 dollars to see Doug Ford get intimate with the Animal Farm's Napoleon (the Pig in the book Animal Farm). Not that I would enjoy it, but I would be paying to see the expression of his face. 

I would pay 100 dollars to see Pierre Poilievre do journalistic reporting in Gaza. 

I would pay 10 dollars to see Mark Carney drink water right out of the Athabasca River everyday, for at least a month. Where the Athabasca River runs through the Tars Sands area. Carney and the Country of Canada see no issue with the environmental concerns raised by the Neechies living there. 

I would pay 100 dollars to see Benjamin Netanyahu smothered, lathered in maple syrup and do the Game of Thrones walk of shame through the rubble of Gaza. With the added nuance of children saying "shame, shame, shame," and then the Yellow Jacket Wasps are released around his walk path. I would for sure pay 100 bucks to see that.

I would pay 100 bucks to see FBI guru Kash Patel, go snorkeling off the coast of California, all the while he is pulling Chum in a cotton sack, tied to his swimming fins. All the while there are camera crews following his day long adventure in the Ocean. I paid to see that.

I would pay 10 bucks to see Kristi Noem be in the middle of the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain. She would do well with the Bulls as she is comfortable with Bull shit. 

I would pay 100 bucks to see Trump, and his team of retards (the label is only for them) swim in the Porkchop Geyser. Where the water is a nice temperature in excess of 200 degrees Fahrenheit. It would be an adventure for them that is for sure. 

Entertainment may come with a cost. 

"Word's once Spoken, can't be taken Back."

 "Horace’s wise saying is straightforward: words, once spoken, can’t be taken back. Just as an arrow, once released, cannot be returned to the bow, comments, when uttered, have an irreversible trajectory. They can mend or break, uplift, or shatter. The core message? Think before you speak, and recognize the power your words hold." In today's world this quote has never been more truer. 

I was visiting with this Anishinaabe Kwe (Ojibwe Woman) yesterday. She has a reputation for being a "hard" difficult person, Zanagizi, as they say. I openly tease her about being Zanagizi, and we laugh. I personally haven't been on the end of her "hardness" but have heard about it. She of course, doesn't understand why people think that of her. It's always about context isn't it? When someone is being difficult there must be a reason for it. We may not agree, or that person may even be wrong, but they have reasons for being difficult. Of course some individual are just arseholes and that's that, not saying my visitor is anything but an alright person. Anyways, we were speaking about the endless posts on social media of negativity. Not just negative views but just pure venom being splashed all over people's faces. Like in those pornography videos (that I have heard of) where a strapping young man with Jesse Ventura type body or maybe a potbellied middle age white man with the horseshoe hair line, and they "jizz" all over an agreeable face. This is what happens on social media, and many times it's people we know. Some of those people are self-aggrandizing wise ones, who are following the Teachings; Seven Teachings to be exact. As my visitor and me were exchanging wise words to each other,  (actually it might be called gossiping) we concluded that those individuals from our Reserve, are not exactly being good role models. Not good examples, despite all their self-promotions and glorifying their deeds of philanthropy.  Still there can be truth in any of our boasts. 

Boy, I tell you, I have said many a bad thing about people now and then. Part of being a human being I guess. It takes work, practice to say mainly good things about people. But many are doing that, they do it in person and in the world of computer screens. I tend to like that a little bit, good remarks of someone sharing a bit of joy in their lives. A photograph of a grandbaby, a puppy, a boyfriend and a new job is worth a good word or response. I can never ever imagine someone saying to me, "man you have an ugly _______."  Can those words be taken back? I guess if it is joking? 

My visitor was saying "I wonder if they would be benefit from a Circle?" What she was talking about was having the people in this case, who were saying hurtful things to each on social media. Some pretty ugly things. Would having them share to each other, benefit both of them? Like something of a mediation? I don't know how it would be. As far as words go, they are out there, so how could the words be unsaid? 

My visitor and me talked about apologies. I think we should apologies when we do something, say something, write something that has hurt someone. The thing is we have no business after the apology with how it is received by the hurt person.  If the hurt party doesn't accept the apology, it is their right not to accept the apology. I don't know if you should try and try to apologize or let it be. I think you let it be, but work to not do that mistake again. Word's once spoken, can't be taken back.

Well, as my deceased friend used to say as he was leaving, "goodbye, never did like you anyway." 

Now that's how you say,  Giga-Waabamin. 

Even Heroes Die

My friend died the other day. He was sick and in a care home. He had just turned 66. There is no way to really to pay homage to him, he was full of life for sure. My first real memory of him was us on a swing set. It was the Fort Alexander Indian Residential School. We never called it that, it was the Boarding school; everyone in the Reserve called it that. He was moved to another Boarding School in Winnipeg. So we didn't see him all that often growing up, just once in a while. His life was filled with adventure, mishap and encounters with the law. We did run into each other walking on a street in Winnipeg. From there we had a life long relationship. Not just a relationship of being from the same Reserve but being oldest friends. 

I was saying at this funeral service of how we live one life but really we lived many lives and he lived thousands of lives. The fun we had, the criminal acts we did, the dangerous situation we were in, and the bond we had. He was good to my wife. He was always Uncle to the kids. He was intelligent, good looking, compassionate, kind and troubled. He carried the Demons of the Boarding Schools, foster homes, juvenile corrections and jail. His demons followed him and tripped him up many times. He would be doing well, making high level connections and when it was going to well for him, he would sabotage himself. 

When he died he took many of my secrets with him. He also took many lifetimes of stories. He was a great story teller. Making jail sound so much fun, one of the listeners said, "oh I wish I was there." The guy actually thought jail was a fun place to be, because of Earl's stories. 

We were bonded but we were opposites. He was addicted and I only actively indulged with alcohol for about 3 or 4 years. He was cool, calm under pressure, while I was volatile and high strung. He was naturally smart while I had to work at it. He was multi-talented while I was one dimensional. We both carried demons. His demons manifested in addictions. My demons manifested in wickedness. We both tried to do right by people. Failed many times at it, but lived through the aftermath. I remember one time he had passed out from drinking; a fucking piece of shit bully took a fish knife and cut lines on his face. Like the Jack Nicholson joker. When my friend was healed I was so mad. I picked him up and took him driving around looking for the guy, I had a handgun was taking my friend to go and shoot this fucker. "Maano, maano" was my friend. I didn't find the guy at his home. We were friends with this creeps younger brother and Earl didn't want him to be hurt. 

Like many heroes, he would need rest. When we were younger he would be able to stop abusing for periods of time, later in life, addiction did consume him. Still he held onto his Spirit. He was good. I told him many times how such a smart guy can do such stupid shit to himself.  I was fortunate to have him as a friend. We had many disagreements, many falling outs, but we always found our friendship still intact. No matter how rough it became between us, we never stopped loving each other. I did love my friend. Its funny because growing up in our times, love was never said to anyone, except maybe your partner, the Woman in your life. No love said to your Mom, never to your Dad or your siblings. 

I was telling my cousin how weird it feels. My friends are dying. Heroes do die. 

 

Fuck me anyways

 There are lot of reasons to be swearing at yourself. One of them is for being an arse. The16th of March is 21 years that my Mom died from Cancer. Yeah, Cancer that ugly beast. Had she had been diagnosed who knows if she would have had a chance. She was having stomach problems for quite some time and the local Doctor told her to drink coffee or not drink coffee and to walk. It had become unbearable for her in the winter, my sister took her to emergency in the city, Winnipeg. She spent the night and the next day the news of cancer was given. One month later she is dead. 

I saw on social media where this guy shows a lifeline using a long piece of paper. He holds up this thin piece of paper and says this paper represents 100 years of life: "the average life span for women is 81 and the average age for men is 75 years of age. So take of 25 years from the 100 and cut it out. Now you are 65 years of age, so take that 65 years from the first part of the paper. Threw it away, it is gone, you can never get that back. What do you have left? You have this small piece of paper which represents your life left." That video sure hit it  on the bullseye. Just like I always say, "my life flashed right between my eyes," or something to that affect. I think about those god-damn 65 years now gone. Gone! No matter how much I want to have them back they are gone baby, gone. 

Fuck me anyways. All those mistakes, those ill said words, those dastardly deeds and no way to fix them. If, and there is always if, we just have the time back. Oh, how we would do things differently. It's like finding a frog hopping in the middle of a street in January in Manitoba of all places. If's are not going to happen, just like a garter snake slithering around the top of the frozen Red River when it's minus 30 degrees Celsius. Those years are gone man, gone. The only thing left of those years are our memories. That's where I say to myself, Fuck me. I think of those times when I could have been kinder. When I should have been more generous with time for my Mom, for my Dad, for my brother Pancho, and for my Son, Don. 

I drive to the Reserve everyday Monday to Friday from the city and that's when the haunting takes over from the night before. I will be driving along listening to tunes and it will hit me, Fuck me anyways. 

Imagine that, the chances are I don't have ten years left. Am I going to spend the next ten years continuing to say Fuck me anyways? It's those fucking if's, we actually think we can have those if's. Nope, we only have those mistakes, those regrets, those fucking selfish moments. That is what keeps us saying Fuck me anyways. 

As my grand-daughter use to say when she was three, Popsicle will make it better. 

Come Over if Your Intentions are Good

 It was a Gathering, a gathering for Women to speak about things. The Women are Warriors, Women who have been active in all manner of causes. They speak up for the environment, the Land, the water, for the Missing Women, the Women killed, the lack of support from men. So they wanted a public forum to Stand in their Truth. That is what they did, they called for the public to come take part. The Women all spoke with their hearts and their experience. The Women included the men. The men came to listen and to share when they were asked. An man who was known as a good man, was asked to speak at the Gathering. The people asked, were asked right at the Gathering, they were not approached prior to the Gathering. It was an organic thing, where things traveled with no pushing or pulling a direction. The  man stood in the middle of the group. He had his hands low but out to the front of him. One hand was open and he looked at it. He was quiet for a while. He then started to speak about Tobacco. You see Tobacco is Sacred for Indian people (I know we are not Indian people). Tobacco is one of the First Sacred Medicines given to our people. Tobacco is used respectfully and that includes gifting it or presenting it to someone which you are seeking advice, time, or their presence. When the man was asked to speak, no Tobacco was presented to him, thus the looking at his hand for Tobacco.  I loved that. We make mistakes and how are we going to correct those mistakes if we don't know? 

"Well, go ahead and call the cops, you don't meet nice girls in coffee shops. She said baby, I still love you. Sometimes there's nothin left to do."

This past we had a two day Ceremonial Gathering of Women and Men. It was a Ceremony for them to seek life as a Water Protector and an Ogichidaa. There was much preparation, cost and effort to make the Ceremony happen. Elders, Traditional Teachers were all presented with Tobacco for their presence at the Ceremony. Some were presented Tobacco at the Ceremony. The two day Ceremony was intimate gathering with fewer than a hundred people in attendance. So much wisdom present in the two days. The amount of knowledge shared was incredible. Those of us in their presence were so fortunate. 

"Well, God bless your crooked little heart, St. Louis got the best of me. I miss your  broken-China Voice. How I wish you were still here with me."

I remember this guy used social media to announce his Ceremonies/Sweat Lodges. He would write "come if your intentions are good" or something like that. I like that and at the same time question that. Would I not come if  my intentions were not good? I don't even know what that would look like. It feels weird but it's like the saying "prayers up, tobacco down." I guess it's meant to inspire or to acknowledge something? Me, I miss when the Old People would answer a story with "Yoohoo." 

"Well, he gave her a dimestore watch, and a ring made from a spoon. Everyone's looking for someone to blame, when you share my bed, you share my name."
 

Measuring Spiritual Dicks

 When I was a kid, I went to the Fort Alexander Indian Boarding School on our Reserve. The Nuns were the teachers along with the Priest. It was a grand building, three stories and basement floor. I remember we used to tease this guy, "nananana-number 99, na ah." I guess when he stood in line up, this was his number or the person's number next to him. He had a stutter and this was what he said when the kids were in line to go into the Indian boarding school. We did catechism or Catholicism (always thought it was called Categism,  ha funny it isn't) I think everyday. At home as a kid I had four-volume Bible story books. Filled with stories of the Bible along with some drawings to illustrate the story lines. You can say I learned a bit about the Bible stories, along with everyone else in the school. Thing is it doesn't make an expert or even competent in the stories or teachings from Christianity. There is always an "expert" out there in these matters of religious doctrine. They will hit you over the head with how much they know. Meaning you are beneath them and they have a bigger spiritual-dick than you (I actually didn't know there was a spiritual dick term, I thought I made it up based on what I see).

In Anishinaabe circles there is similar things happening with more "Traditional" than you contests. It is like when were young, the guys always bragging about how many girls they "banged" or how big their dicks were. Well that is happening in the Indian tipis today. I like the phrase once used to describe the righteous and the pious sycophants of the various religious houses,  Machi-Anishinaabe.  It's funny we have a guy called Machi-Preacher and another called Machi-Elder. These Machi-individuals are more than others because they proclaim a divinity bestowed on them either by God or the Creator. So they too want to carry the big dick around. 

How do we know who has the biggest spiritual dick anyways? What measuring stick do we use. I guess we can take your word for it. As one person said, "I went to the Real Elders." I imagine there are those who indeed studied under the Gete Anishinaabe Peter O'chiese. Elder O'chiese came a number of times to Manitoba and thought a number of Elders. That is fact and no one can take away from all those who he had shared Ceremony with (Roseau River, Sagkeeng, Black River, to name a few places). I knew a few of those men and women who attended Elder O'Chiese Teaching ceremonies. Many became Knowledge Keepers, Elders, Teachers, Healers and Helpers. I don't think I ever seen them try get into a Spiritual-Dick contest. I imagine it might be due to the Teaching O'Chiese said about living Kindness. One of the gifts Creator gave was to have Kindness. 

I guess showing off how big  your spiritual-dick is doesn't have anything to do with Kindness, but who knows. Maybe slinging your big spiritual dick around is a good thing, but I wonder if it is. 

My dick may be small, but it's the one I have and will use it as much as I can. The small-spiritual-dick may not be smashing anything but what the heck, have fun with it anyways. 

For all you big-spiritual-dick people, can I ask you, does it get heavy carrying all that, doesn't it get tiring being a big-dick? 

Wouldn't it be funny if people started saying, "I can see your spiritual-dick, put it in your pants."

Spiritual Dick - Measuring Is Not A Vibe

The Allure of Comparison:

In a world that often emphasizes external achievements, it's no surprise that this mentality can infiltrate even the most sacred and personal realms of life, including spirituality. The allure of comparison can turn a journey meant for self-discovery and inner peace into a race for who can accumulate the most esoteric knowledge, the longest meditation sessions, or the most profound spiritual experiences.