Seeing Old Friends…perhaps one last time…Part I

I am finding that this whole situation of leavetaking is fraught with emotions I’d not expected or planned for. Somehow I thought I might just sort of wave goodbye and drive off happily into the sunset. But no, old friends are calling up and making it clear that they want to see me before I go. I guess, what this brings up for me is that old Buddhist idea of impermanence and the reality that we are all getting older, and when we say goodbye to someone, we face a reality that we might not truly see them again this lifetime. So, those emotions are swimming around me with my tears. I forget that I’ve forged bonds with many folks, some I don’t see very often, some I see every now and then, some…

So, to see old friends is in a way very beautiful, as it means we are getting to connect with each other, and to hug, and share the warmth of times gone by for those few seconds before we part…for who knows how long. We also get to reforge and strengthen that bond, with the realization that we can wish each other the best, and we can pray for each other and remember that there are people out there in the world who love and care for us. This knowledge is priceless—in this often cold and uncaring world—this knowledge that there are those who care for us is priceless.

Earlier this week I got to see my old friend Les. Our relationship is one of sister and brother in the craft, priest and priestess who have shared moments with the divine in so many ways. It is always a treasure to talk to someone I don’t have to explain myself to, or to feel  that I might sound bizarre or strange. After being around non-craft men, I’d forgotten what it feels like to talk about deeply spiritual events and happenings. I’ve missed that—a lot. I’ve always wanted to be more connected with men of the craft, yet, they seem to avoid me, or something I’ve not yet figured out yet. Either way, thank you Les for just being you, and asking for my company before I set off on my adventure. ,It helps to have a brother in spirit who understands deeply the oddities of our beliefs, and the living of them.

My Saturday was spent with another old friend—Tsunemi. She’s originally from Japan, and was also a single mother a good part of her daughter’s life—like myself. It is a treasure to have someone who understands how hard it is being a single mom—first, then, how hard it is to be a single mom and a woman of color. We talked a lot about a certain ideal in some parts of the mainstream culture around “kicking out” their kids when they are 16 or 18. We both understand the preciousness of time spent with our young ones, and how repulsive this idea is to most families of color. Our sense of it is that the world is harder for our children, like it has been for us, and it’s necessary to make sure they feel ready to go, when they finally decide to.  I argued this point with a white male friend of mine who insisted that he grew up really fast when his family kicked him out at 17. He couldn’t understand the point about how when he once got out into the world, he had/has much more power than others. He felt it “toughened” him up, which I suspect it did. Yet, the bonding between we who allow our children to decide when they will go is very deep.  Our way of helping them to become strong is to spend time helping them to prepare for a world that won’t always accept them, or like them. Both of our children are young women of mixed racial heritage, hence they also have to deal with the issues that come with being seen as exotic, or as not who they are. Helping them to form their identities and to feel good about themselves is crucial. Either way, she and I shared tears over how hard it is to see our young ones go, and to face the resulting loneliness of not having mates or partners to ease us into our elder years…  We also laugh a lot, knowing that laughter is truly the best medicine for the pain and sadness we feel. And laughter shared is more powerful as a form of healing the wounds the culture inflicts on us daily. This sharing allows for our true human emotions to come forth, in a safe, welcoming, accepted, loving way.

Last night was dinner with Julia. Another dear old friend who has shared the “priestess” path with me.  Our history goes back so many years, we can’t really remember how long. As always, we spoke of the shared experiences of being “strong women” and being seen as sort of iconic by our community.  Elders…it was hard for us to imagine ourselves in this position at this stage in our lives. We talked about all we’d done over the years for the Dragonfest  organization, and how there is an asking around about “where are the elders”? Remembering that we too had asked those same questions, yet now with the understanding of arthritis, tiredness, and all that goes along with the aging process. And, that forever hands out gesture of our community, wanting us to give and give, endlessly for free! We get it now why over time, the elders have died and or disappeared into the land of aging and in time, so shall we…

Tonight, I am at  my friend Jennifer's. She and her mother live in separate parts of a house that is called Jen-Lo farms here in Lyons. Her mother helps children with Autism, etc. and Jennifer is a CNA in one part of her life, and a rugged, endlessly passionate activist the rest of the time. Our children grew up together because she too has a set of twin girls the same age as mine. She is currently engaged in preparations for a major political action in the town of White Clay, South Dakota. The website is: http://www.battleforwhiteclay.org, which is also the title of an award winning documentary about what is going on with the Oglala Lakota (also known as the Oglala Sioux Tribe). The action is about a:

Women’s March to End Genocide 2012: The Life Givers of the Nations say no more alcohol in White Clay

It is my hope to go, as I've not taken part in a political action for some 11 years now, and to stand as an ally to the Indigenous people/women would be an honor for me.As an aside, if you wish, please go look at the website to understand the issues at hand--ages old issues of genocide...

My desire to return to activism as part of my journey is great and deep.

It is always amazing to me to look back over time with friends, to see where we were, and where we now find ourselves in the flow of life, and the turning of the wheel.