Sometimes our time markers, memory markers all happen to converge. Today is one of those days. First day of school of the last year of middle school for my older son and the first day of kindergarten for the younger one.
Four and three quarters of a year past the completion of the bundle of years we know as the baktun cycle of the Mesoamerican calendar.
Our young people are getting healthy, standing up, using their voices. Unity is on the rise. It is definitely the beginning of an era.
Our ancestors across this continent had and continue to have many different ways of honoring the particular point in the infinite dance of our universe that we recognize today as eclipses. There are scrolls and charts, sculptures and symbols to account for the calculations of the passing of time and the various markers used to keep track of the many cycles we observe. In some cases, we don't know what types of ceremonies or commemorations were held, while in other cases, the ancient traditions are still practiced within vibrant cultural communities.
In my own pleuri-cultural family, lunar eclipses, like the phases of the moon that greet us every day of every month of every year, remain a special and sacred time of reflection, quiet contemplation, care and love. My grandmother would always stay up, notice, watch and sing a beautiful rendition of "big lady moon" in her low lullabye voice, while my grandfather would always join us for a moment, then retreat to his sleeping quarters. The instructions we are to follow as human beings remain clearly written on our hearts, we have only to clear our minds enough to follow them.
In the cities of our Maya ancestors, urban planners constructed cultural landscapes with central plazas in line with the location of the rising, setting and mid-day sun on the days of the summer and winter solstice. Some cities, known for their scientific prowess in tracking the cycles of the planets and starts, contain ancient observatories, perhaps they even functioned as building-sized pinhole cameras or camera obscura.
In 1979 when I was six years old, I attended a Miami-Dade County public school called Comstock Elementary. I loved my reading book, "It Happened This Way," featuring a pink flamingo who had swallowed a pretzel on the front cover. I hated the standardized testing I was introduced to that year. I loved earning cheeze it cracker treats from my teacher by sitting quietly when it was rest time. And I remember the day all the teachers were worriedly reminding us not to look up at the sun. It was Miami's last total solar eclipse, and my most memorable day of school, ever. Kudos to all the teachers, principals and administrators who will do their best to ensure that no kids get solar blindness on their watch today.
As for me, I'm going to take a deep breath, take a few moments to reflect, and prepare to welcome in the start of a new era... maybe, hopefully, the sun will shine on our people once more....
Monday, August 21, 2017
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
When I Pray
When I sit at the water's edge... I become water
As I walk among the plants of the pineland... I am the forest
If I close my eyes, I become the starry night sky.
I am my mother's daughter and grandmother to the generation yet to come
I live for the future with my thoughts planted firmly in the past.
I am the roots of the prarie grass reaching for the water
I am the footpaths of the nomads walking migrations in circles
I am the riverbanks undulating over the vast countryside
I am earth, water, stars, universe... we are me and she is we.
We are. We are all. We are here still, now, intact, full, perfectly imperfect.
I AM LOVE.
As I walk among the plants of the pineland... I am the forest
If I close my eyes, I become the starry night sky.
I am my mother's daughter and grandmother to the generation yet to come
I live for the future with my thoughts planted firmly in the past.
I am the roots of the prarie grass reaching for the water
I am the footpaths of the nomads walking migrations in circles
I am the riverbanks undulating over the vast countryside
I am earth, water, stars, universe... we are me and she is we.
We are. We are all. We are here still, now, intact, full, perfectly imperfect.
I AM LOVE.
Land ¤ Sea ¤ Air
Let's return it the way we found it!
— Tara Chadwick (@wabigun) July 2, 2017
Friday, June 30, 2017
Preparing for earth time
For parents and everyone the advent of Summer inevitably brings along with it a string of seasonal wonders and a certain set of challenges, scheduling changes, and out of school time activities to determine and implement.
For me and my family this summer was no different. There was camp to organize. Summer trips to consider. Summer work schedules to juggle. And the age-old question of what to do with a teenager, camp, work, volunteer, or couch potato?
I don't think you ever know as a parent whether you're making good decisions at any given time. You can only ever do your best to consider all the options and Hippocratically hope that at the very least your choices do no harm to your children.
And so it is that we model through the beauty and Heat that is the south Florida summer in search of shade from the intense sunshine and splashes of 85 degree water which we consider cool.
The search for balance is epic and continual. Just as you think you've got things figured out, something else happens to make you start from scratch.
Finally got my sisters to @FrostScience ♡♡♡ pic.twitter.com/sd27tFYL5U— Tara Chadwick (@wabigun) June 13, 2017
For me and my family this summer was no different. There was camp to organize. Summer trips to consider. Summer work schedules to juggle. And the age-old question of what to do with a teenager, camp, work, volunteer, or couch potato?
I don't think you ever know as a parent whether you're making good decisions at any given time. You can only ever do your best to consider all the options and Hippocratically hope that at the very least your choices do no harm to your children.
And so it is that we model through the beauty and Heat that is the south Florida summer in search of shade from the intense sunshine and splashes of 85 degree water which we consider cool.
The search for balance is epic and continual. Just as you think you've got things figured out, something else happens to make you start from scratch.
#sustainable #water #transportation #canoe #dugout #dorey #wood #tree #carving pic.twitter.com/OoSFiGguB5— Tara Chadwick (@wabigun) June 20, 2017
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Summer blooms
Marie Huntley, aka Ms. Peaches is a force to be reckoned with in the Sistrunk community of Fort Lauderdale. An extremely talented singer, doer and community historian, Ms. Peaches is one of those people who is alway encouraging good stuff to happen in her neighborhood.
I've been thinking a lot about stories, storytelling, history and how we each find inspiration and encouragement to keep going in times of difficulty, and to go as far as we can in times of joy... about how we can see mirrors of our story in the histories of others... and how important our stories are, to ourselves, our families, and our communities. Together, our stories are our true history.
So often, we tell versions of history that have been learned from books, or elders, or the land and geographies that we've come through... but every once in a while, we get to reflect, and tell a little bit of the story that comes through us, from our own life experience. It is these nuggets of light, understanding, memory and insight that I find most impactful when listening to the words people share.
So, in the spirit of reclaiming our own narratives, telling our own stories, and with the encouragement of Ms. Peaches... here goes:
My story begins in the hearts of the continents we now know as America, Africa and on that island we now call the UK. My heartbeat began in the womb of a woman who survived a thousand wars, over six continents, from a seed planted by the grandson of a hunter who'd been on his island for almost a million years.
My parents remain one of the most unlikely odd couples to make it through 45 years of marriage in the most dire of social realities. One of the things they had in common was that they were both immersed in the lifestyle of 1950s anglican ministry. My mother talks about attending church sponsored after school activities every single day of the week. My father was an altar boy, though I don't ever remember his mother, my grandmother speak about church, except for christenings, weddings and funerals. But for all their early involvement in church, almost all my early memories are of being with my parents at parties, gatherings and outside on the land, either in the back yard, on a beach or near a river. I spent almost all my summers either scouring the Scarborough Bluffs or scampering up the steps of the Maya "pyramids" and sometimes, both! I didn't play video games or even board games, really, my toys were twigs, flowers and found objects. And my favorite pass time was sauterning along the edges of the water and the wilderness... in that respect, not much has changed.
My earliest memory of school is walking along the fence, picking up sticks, and using them to play the chain links like a piano, listening to the different sounds the metal would make depending on the size, length and width of each stick. I still remember a few of the songs and poems I learned in pre-school. My mother tells me that once, when I was four, we were walking in "The Guild Inn" and she couldn't find me anywhere... only to look around a large boulder to find me teaching a group of German tourists my favorite nursery school song, and they were singing it too, despite the fact that they spoke no English, nor I German. Art and teaching are in the blood. My mom and dad met teaching, I spent a year living with my Aunt while she was an art and history teacher, my sister taught art and, despite my mothers advice to the contrary, I also taught math and social studies through art for 7-12 graders. My passion now, though, is community based education. Those formal and informal learning opportunities we place in front of folks to learn something new, whether they thought they wanted to know or not. This translates well to a variety of interests, like community outreach, social media, museums, health, wellness, prevention programming and community building.
The work my mother put in to making sure that I know as fully as possible who I am propelled me to pursue a career in anthropology, archaeology, art and wellness. At the tender age of 17, I won an entrance scholarship to York University in my hometown of Toronto. Working my way through college, I spent my summers at the Government of Belize's Department of Archaeology, and winters working part time at the front desk of the Royal Ontario Museum and as a research assistant to Dr. Elizabeth Graham. I had so many wonderful women helping me learn during these adolescent years: Pauline Shirt, Deanna Sheridan, Sadie Buck, and the late Shirley Shilling & Irma Martin, just to name a few of the feminine forces that helped shape my world.
We all come to this conscious part of Earth with a gift and for a purpose. Mine is to be as fully who I am as I can. It's a journey that I'm still on, still struggling with every day, and also one in which I find great joy and satisfaction. I hope that sharing this small piece of who I am will help to encourage someone out there to pursue their passion a little further, persevere a little longer and reach a little higher, for what we aspire to is what we are here to do.
Have a great summer - catch ya next month!!
Bawshkeengwabigun.
I've been thinking a lot about stories, storytelling, history and how we each find inspiration and encouragement to keep going in times of difficulty, and to go as far as we can in times of joy... about how we can see mirrors of our story in the histories of others... and how important our stories are, to ourselves, our families, and our communities. Together, our stories are our true history.
So often, we tell versions of history that have been learned from books, or elders, or the land and geographies that we've come through... but every once in a while, we get to reflect, and tell a little bit of the story that comes through us, from our own life experience. It is these nuggets of light, understanding, memory and insight that I find most impactful when listening to the words people share.
So, in the spirit of reclaiming our own narratives, telling our own stories, and with the encouragement of Ms. Peaches... here goes:
My story begins in the hearts of the continents we now know as America, Africa and on that island we now call the UK. My heartbeat began in the womb of a woman who survived a thousand wars, over six continents, from a seed planted by the grandson of a hunter who'd been on his island for almost a million years.
My parents remain one of the most unlikely odd couples to make it through 45 years of marriage in the most dire of social realities. One of the things they had in common was that they were both immersed in the lifestyle of 1950s anglican ministry. My mother talks about attending church sponsored after school activities every single day of the week. My father was an altar boy, though I don't ever remember his mother, my grandmother speak about church, except for christenings, weddings and funerals. But for all their early involvement in church, almost all my early memories are of being with my parents at parties, gatherings and outside on the land, either in the back yard, on a beach or near a river. I spent almost all my summers either scouring the Scarborough Bluffs or scampering up the steps of the Maya "pyramids" and sometimes, both! I didn't play video games or even board games, really, my toys were twigs, flowers and found objects. And my favorite pass time was sauterning along the edges of the water and the wilderness... in that respect, not much has changed.
My earliest memory of school is walking along the fence, picking up sticks, and using them to play the chain links like a piano, listening to the different sounds the metal would make depending on the size, length and width of each stick. I still remember a few of the songs and poems I learned in pre-school. My mother tells me that once, when I was four, we were walking in "The Guild Inn" and she couldn't find me anywhere... only to look around a large boulder to find me teaching a group of German tourists my favorite nursery school song, and they were singing it too, despite the fact that they spoke no English, nor I German. Art and teaching are in the blood. My mom and dad met teaching, I spent a year living with my Aunt while she was an art and history teacher, my sister taught art and, despite my mothers advice to the contrary, I also taught math and social studies through art for 7-12 graders. My passion now, though, is community based education. Those formal and informal learning opportunities we place in front of folks to learn something new, whether they thought they wanted to know or not. This translates well to a variety of interests, like community outreach, social media, museums, health, wellness, prevention programming and community building.
The work my mother put in to making sure that I know as fully as possible who I am propelled me to pursue a career in anthropology, archaeology, art and wellness. At the tender age of 17, I won an entrance scholarship to York University in my hometown of Toronto. Working my way through college, I spent my summers at the Government of Belize's Department of Archaeology, and winters working part time at the front desk of the Royal Ontario Museum and as a research assistant to Dr. Elizabeth Graham. I had so many wonderful women helping me learn during these adolescent years: Pauline Shirt, Deanna Sheridan, Sadie Buck, and the late Shirley Shilling & Irma Martin, just to name a few of the feminine forces that helped shape my world.
Eventually, once I finally graduated, I went back to the Belize Department of Archaeology to work as staff Museologist/ Curator as part of the Maya Area Sites Development Programme. When that grant funded project was complete, I took what I thought would be a two month break to spend time with my aging grandparents back in Toronto. That break led to an unexpected two year apprenticeship with one of Indian Country's most well known educators, Dr. Edward Benton Banaise. At the conclusion of working to help develop (and name) his most recent publication: Anishinabe Almanac, I once again thought I'd be heading home to my mother's land in Mesoamerica. This time, it was the opening of a community based school chartered specifically to teach Native American youth through an integrated arts approach that kept me grounded in the Midwest. It would be another 13 years before I finally got the call from my mother that it was time I returned to their chosen home halfway between Mesoamerica and the Great Lakes: The Greater Everglades region, right here in #OurMiramar.#tbt #marchbreak @ROMtoronto #whereswaldo #sharkweek #letsplayball #intotheheartofafrica who's that #26 & #28 pic.twitter.com/OaXyJlnq51— Tara Chadwick (@wabigun) March 23, 2017
So after earning my Bachelor of Arts Degree, being made Midewiwin, earning my Mexica traje, and working alongside some of the very best educators, historians, community builders and storytellers, I packed up the treehouse apartment, and headed back to the Sunshine State. That was four years ago now. I've completed all my life goals, except one: to relearn one of my ancestral Maya languages. I know words here and there, from the study of archaeology and danza, but to be able to string those together in a sequence, to speak thought into being through language, my language... that is the one thing I have yet to do on this earth... hopefully before it's time for me to return my borrowed bag of bones to the Mother Earth from whence they were constructed.
We all come to this conscious part of Earth with a gift and for a purpose. Mine is to be as fully who I am as I can. It's a journey that I'm still on, still struggling with every day, and also one in which I find great joy and satisfaction. I hope that sharing this small piece of who I am will help to encourage someone out there to pursue their passion a little further, persevere a little longer and reach a little higher, for what we aspire to is what we are here to do.
Have a great summer - catch ya next month!!
Bawshkeengwabigun.
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Winds of Change
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| #MesoamericanDanza presentation at Treehugger Organic Farms |
Today we said our farewell to a piece of land that has sustained us and our community here in South Broward County for the past 4 years... a permaculture oasis in the midst of the concrete jungle we know as South Florida, east of the Everglades... a local food sanctuary known as Treehugger Organic Farms, now listed as permanently closed on your google GPS mapping system.
It was a bittersweet walk through the daikon radishes, lesser known banana species, greens, fruit trees, birds and butterflies. This farm felt like home, that safe place you can go to for peace, quiet, and tenderly cared for oceans of green.
There was a food forest on a mulch hill, a coconut grove interspersed with comfrey plants, florida nopalitos, tumeric and ginger, a spring fed pond that supplies water to the farm, and rotating fields of boniato, tomato, kale, collards, mustard, fennel, spinach, beans, millet, sugar cane, and just about everything in between.
Winds of change... @TreehuggerFarms -> #TogetherWeGrow https://t.co/uRJ5XiRj2L— Tara Chadwick (@wabigun) May 1, 2017
Sign up for news on how you can help create #foodsecurity pic.twitter.com/y5Sqb5TSzK
One day after the mega #PeoplesClimateMarch in several cities, and on the eve of #InternationalWorkersDay, it seemed like a huge mountain to move. The reality of agricultural land tenure here in Florida is that access to farmable land is unstable, market based, and temporary. In reflecting, I realize that personally, I subscribe more to the Haudenosaunee approach to land management whereby we humans are responsible to protect, nurture and strengthen the land/ soil/ earth, on behalf of it's only true owners, that generation of unborn children who has not yet arrived here via the miracle we know as birth.
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| Miami Herald photo by Al Diaz |
But this momentary twinge of grief in losing a space in which to enjoy the company of others, and ourselves in the company of Mother Earth and her pretties, is just a reminder that in fact we are owners of nothing, but rather bearers of ideas, thoughts, insights, and the potential to seed a new generation of humans with the capacity to return to a life steeped in nature, health and harmony with the cycles of all living beings including the soil, rock, sand and oil that make up the material we know as earth.
Friday, March 31, 2017
The beginning of Florida Spring!
From north to south on this part of our continent, March is the beginning of the time when the waters begin to flow freely again over the surface of the earth, be they melting fresh, salt or sap. World Water Day, International Rivers Day and World Water Week fall within this time, as does the beginning of the flow of life giving maple sap in the northern climates of the eastern woodlands, my birth land.
May this flow of life continue throughout our season, our year, and the bundle of years that we know as an era. Stand up kind and gentle soldiers, our time to heal one another of our anger, apathy and bad decision making is now. Let us work togther to make a place that is safe for our children.
Like wise, as beings of the water, we were busy this month, being who we are, remembering from whence life flows... in fact, as we write, there is a four day walk for the rights of mother earth happening right here in greater Miami led by two of the indigenous people that take care of this part of the earth. They are walking to the Miami Commission meeting on April 4th to bring attention to the need for all of us to make decisions that will result in a positive impact for the earth and all of the beings who live amongst us.
May this flow of life continue throughout our season, our year, and the bundle of years that we know as an era. Stand up kind and gentle soldiers, our time to heal one another of our anger, apathy and bad decision making is now. Let us work togther to make a place that is safe for our children.
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
And still we rise...
This last month or so has been a whirlwind of emotions and activity, from the largest ever mobilization of women in the United States, to the apparent divide and conquer tactics that seem to be part of the legislative docket... And yet, through it all, I do my best to remain focused, fearless and determined in my resolve to provide a solid path to the future. Not much to say, lots to do. Here are a few snapshots in that effort. Never give up!!!
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| Guess who won a Puffin Foundation Grant? THANK YOU |
— Tara Chadwick (@wabigun) February 12, 2017Thx for the embed @WPLGLocal10 @LJLiveTV - standing in unity for a return to harmony.... #TrayvonMartin4Ever pic.twitter.com/xMl9pWWdni
— Tara Chadwick (@wabigun) January 10, 2017Got the black shirt, long skirt memo! Didn't know I'd be trying something new #Kwanzaa #NewYearsEve #WeAre all #Africa (photos: Steve Vinik) pic.twitter.com/p3UKSFJXu1
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