Living in peace isn’t easy now is it?
Well let me splain it to you. See. I was adopted by a native woman mix. But she’s native all right. And I’ve learned her ways. And what they mean. And we live in mostly peace. And trust one another.
When I was growing up. Our natures had our clashing moments. When her will met mine. The times she could see herself there starring back from within me shining back at her. As if to say yes. Your in me. I Be Linda infected with some Jean.
And?!i feel like it’s safe to talk about my native ways. As I have learned from the descendants who died their rites to be free. They raised me. What’s ur like? It’s magic. Magic how it’s all mixed together. Mama. Me. My adoptive family. All mixed up. Like a messy room. But I know where everything is and what it means, where it goes. And with whom it is attached.
The land we live on is our reservation. We commune with each other, rather then break off and go separately. If that’s codependent? Then Indians are codependent and I feel that’s a bad rap. The scared ways are to include it all and care for all within the tribe. The Mom did not go to a home. She was welcomed into a home when the time had come. Assistance came from within the tribe. The Osage did not ask the Cherokee to take their old ladies. No.
Can you see my two lives now? Each ones got its form. And I live within these two woman’s worlds as the daughter of a woman who’s not met my trainer? Or thinks she’s not met her. I say it like that. Thinks she’s now met her. the 57 Laura Croft version of Mama. Some tribal Christian morph. A morph for sure. Once you can clearly see the two story lines and realize I live both at the same time? Then you would fully understand the reason I desire unity. Unity is the one word tribal and Christianity agree on. A coming together to understand each other more fully. Tribe to tribe no more. But as one tribe including my family into ours.
Since I was cast out of my family. They are receiving the invitation to be included into my family now. They can choose to not rsvp. They can ignore an invite from a very wise woman, who is showing she remembered that she was invited to raise me. a return invite. To celebrate the victory. And add a great story about Indian relations to history. And to the Osage history. German. French. Osage. And the Osage matters. These woman taught me without even knowing they taught me. The ways of nature and nurture. Nana was the fire. And Mama Jean was the water. They were a pair. Together. And Papa was the straight man.
They were Indians living as white folks. Gorgeous. Giving. And ruthlessly witty. Business woman. But that Queen blood in their veins and the only stories they were told given to me and my children. To protect with our lives and tell. So they will be remembered rightly. As sacred people who raised me the best way they knew how. And that’s sufficient. A match made from heaven through an Indian queens linage your child would be raised and returned to you. But not yours to keep. Free. At peace. Accepted. By a queens descendent.
Refusing invitations I must say is rude.