This month I’ve been searching around for a column. I never know where I’ll find them or if I will find anything at all. So I go outside and walk around the yard for inspiration. The winds here all have Hawaiian names. They have different personalities and move about in distinct ways.
I riffle through papers. The newspapers are filled with stories on the high price of living, the economic downturn. We’re still trying to get our oil and mineral leases of the last several hundred years accounted for by the U.S. government. Locally, a tiger shark bit a woman a few days ago when she was snorkeling on the Leeward Coast.
I sift through my emails. Petey Coser is going to attend the Democratic National Convention in Denver, I look forward to his insights. The “Women in Pink Saris” in India are a gang of over 10,000 women who live in the most crowded and poor conditions and are of the lowest caste. They banded together and take matters into their own hands. They wear pink, because it is a color not worn by any sect, and carry battle poles as they fight for justice. They go after men who beat their wives; they go after officials who are abusing their powers. I appreciate this direct approach. And it’s been empowering and already brought about needed changes in their community.
One email links me to a short video. A lion cub is raised by a family then released into the wild. The family decides to try and find the lion. They are told that they most likely won’t find the lion, and if they do the lion won’t remember them. We see grainy footage of boys and the lion, all cub age, running about and roughhousing on a lawn. Then we see the boys as men when, despite the warning, have found the lion. The lion is ecstatic and runs up to his old family. He hugs them and leaps about with joy. The lion’s wife stands nearby as her husband embraces this human family. I love this video, maybe because I’m Katcv Clan. Also, the story reminds me of when we had more direct relationships with our animal and plant relatives.
I go back through my catalogue of dreams. In one recent dream I assisted a young woman who was trying to escape. We moved about the shadows. Then we saw a man with so much rage he was literally red. He charged toward us. At first I think the man is the one we're escaping. It's not him. This man is small and wiry. I appeared to be the object of his fury. He leapt to attack me. I did not react. I had made myself absolutely calm. His wild, red form went through me without a quiver. He was surprised, as he expected to encounter resistance, and there was none. He became himself again. And as he transformed he apologized for being overcome by Fury. Fury stalked off looking for someone else to attach to, to gain energy from, to suck.
Let’s see, if I keep looking I’ll find that column yet….