kinda reminds me...

It is hard to believe that I've been working at the Du Quah Gallery for 5 weeks already! It kinda reminds me of my fishing days - working for my uncles in my early to mid teen years. Of course, I don't have a skipper screaming at me and when it's cold and rainy outside, Cedar (the gallery cat) and I, are huddled, dry and warm inside. Actually, Cedar and I do very little huddling together since I'm allergic to cats, but I do talk to her and she does talk back (mostly complaining that I don't pick her up or pet her, short of a few gentle nudges with my moccasin-clad feed, I suspect).

And of course the work is not physically demanding, and I usually come out of each day smelling pretty decent. However, there are some similarities. From what I can tell this gallery relies upon its 22+ year reputation, good relations with its fellow service-tourist related businesses, and word of mouth. I have attempted to understand all the variables that go into a successful day of sales. Considerations include the weather, time of year, day of the week, time of the day, the Canadian dollar vis-a-vis the American dollar and the Euro, plus the internal considerations such as art pieces available, display, arrangement and so on. Obviously, I also have the time to think of all these things. I've often wondered if it would make any sense to put it all into a spreadsheet and churn out pie-charts to optimize sales next year.

Fishermen can also be very superstitious. We would often experiment with different lures at different times of the day and sometimes be secrative with the ones that were "hot" only sharing them with a few select friends on other boats. And I will never forget that the Spring salmon loved to bite when we blasted CCR's Midnight Special on the boat's cassette player. It makes me wonder weather customers prefer to bite when I play certain music. Almost everyone likes Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, but I've yet to keep track of exactly what is playing when they bite, especially the bigger fish, er customers, I mean.

While I've already suggested a great disparity in the physical difficulty of the work, I should say that my "fisherman's work ethic" (strongly instilled by my father), serves me well. There are downtimes - much more similar to seining than trolling - but overall, while it is not busy, I'm presented with the opportunity to vacuum, dust, clean glass, arrange and rearrange the artwork. Then again, I am writing this blog from work. What can I say, it's siesta time? I felt inspired. I better go clean some glass before the skipper comes back!

home

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

- from T.S. Eliot's Little Gidding

wisdom from our diminutive green master...

Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the force. Mourn them do not. Miss them do not. Attachment leads to jealousy...the shadow of greed that is. Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.

quote of the day

"Why do you always mix politics with things as noble as cookies?"
-Don Durito to Sup Marcos

ah, Neruda...

An excerpt from Neruda's Letter on the Road

Farewell, but you will be
with me, you will go within
a drop of blood circulating in my veins
or outside, a kiss that burns my face
or a belt of fire at my waist.
My sweet, accept
the great love that came out of my life
and that in you found no territory
like the explorer lost
in the isles of bread and honey.
I found you after
the storm,
the rain washed the air
and in the water
your sweet feet gleamed like fishes.

Adored one, I am off to my fighting...



[photo by www.jupiterimages.com]

oh yeah, I live in a rain forest

As the dime-sized raindrops pelt my summer motorcycle jacket (read: not waterproof), and my windshield fogs up I remember, oh yeah, I live in a rain forest. It sounds so nice when you say “rain forest” doesn’t it? I imagine sitting in some cozy cabin, fire blazing, cup of hot chocolate warming my hands, a beautiful indigenous woman warming my heart with her smile as we look out a huge picture window at all the lush, wet green, out there. Sigh. I try to distract myself with such imaginings as my wet fingers go numb and as I squirm a little in my seat, the build-up of water from the moto draft slides off my pack down you know where. Nice.

It was sunny when I left Port Alberni in the morning. The afternoon torrential rain is characteristic of west coast weather. I’m a west coaster, even by blood. I should know better. Knowing that I still have about 45 minutes to go, all I can do is laugh and think of how I’m going to blog this little experience. Although these adventures are mundane for the most part, and utterly inane at times I do try and make some links, however far-fetched, to the indigenous world of decolonization, rebellion, and revolution.

I heat up for several seconds later in my ride, but I’ll save that for the end.

So the water is seeping through my jacket, through my hoodie, and my Greg Norman golf shirt (great gallery wear, courtesy of a thoughtful and generous mom), and my BMW summer riding pants (also not waterproof – who makes $275 pants that are not waterproof? Better yet, who buys them?). My winter riding gloves must be getting long in the tooth, cause they used to be waterproof. About the only thing holding out is my trusty Red Wing motorcycle boots. At least my feet are warm and dry, which brings me to my next point.

Among many coastal peoples there exists a ritual of bathing in very cold water. This was done in rivers, lakes and the sea. As I understand it, one could merely jump in, get clean and jump out, or one could observe a more spiritual rendition, praying and adhering to protocols, often specific to each family. I will not speak of the latter, but more generally about the benefits of cold-water bathing. It’s supposed to toughen you up, physically of course, but the more you do it the more you begin to appreciate how it can strengthen your character and resolve because next time, you know, you remember.

I don’t liken my 75-minute commute in the cold rain to this practice necessarily, but it did remind me of it and I was also reminded of the benefits of growing stronger through action. It’s not hard to notice, when you look around (especially in the mirror), that we are perhaps not as tough as we used to be, or should be. This whole process of decolonization and community resurgence requires strong, committed people. Our ancestors understood this clearly, and acted on a daily basis to grow and remain strong. I think we can too.

Now to the matter of my instant and fleeting warming sensation. No, I didn’t pee my pants. Here is what happened (Moms, you can stop reading at this point). As I round the last corner before the orange bridge (which is now silver) and am momentarily distracted by the new Tseheheh band office, I do not notice that the red Dodge truck in front of me has stopped at the end of the bridge. Evidently, the car in front of him has stopped in order to turn left and is waiting for a break in the oncoming traffic. You’re not supposed to break hard in the rain. I think, in the milliseconds that I have, that I have to break pretty damn fast. I begin to slide as if on black ice. It feels so smooth. A shot of adrenaline pulses through my body and I feel instantly warm. I put my feet down, lest my bike decides to kick out, and I subtly steer toward the two-foot gap between the truck’s back end and the high curb. I’m not sure if the driver noticed me sliding or not, but the road clears and he moves just as I get close enough to see the tiny rain droplets on his red paint. Deep breath. I sit up and take a few more. I certainly don’t think I defied death yesterday. I did not hear the angels sing, but it would not have been pretty. I give thanks and I inhale all those memories good and bad.

Again, I’m reminded that there are no ordinary moments.



[photo by David Heller]

what dreams may come*

[click on the photo to enlarge] After dining at the Beijing Grand, IMHO, the best Chinese restaurant in Port Alberni, I received two fortunes in my fortune cookie. My favourite read, "There is new hope for projects you had almost given up on." I wondered, "does that include people?"

Over the past academic year, I've probably been negligent with my not-always-humble opinions, what with my diverted focus on books, papers, and all that fun stuff. I intend to make it up to you here, recently inspired by a muse, a fictional warrior, a real warrior, angry Indian chiefs, and knight-errant: Don Durito de la Lacandon.

Poetry works with the sweetest
ideas, and becomes the sweetest,
the nobelest, most sober and wise
Oh lady, delighting all eyes,
Accept my soul in these lines,
And by letting my earnest praise
enfold you, you earn yourself
Envy for the rest of your days,
And find your fortune raised
Higher than the moon in the skies.
-Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quijote

Ya basta!

So the "chiefs" are getting frustrated. The taps have run dry. There is a call for a "Day of Action." I hate to be a cynic, but I find it hard not be suspicious of their motives and of their genuine connection to the people. At the same time, division does us no good either. How can we come together, or are we really apart to begin with? Hish-uuk-ish Tsa'waak. Everything is one.

Perhaps some people will rise. Perhaps enough will rise. Perhaps the moderates and conservatives will have more on their hands than they can handle. That might be an adventure. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. Perhaps we can catch a wave and ride it for awhile.

Power in Movement. A day of action? How about a life of action.

Don Dubya, aspirant Jedi Knight-errant
From the shores of occupied Vancouver Island


*I borrowed the title from the critically unacclaimed movie with Robin Williams

to the mothers...

One can always comment on the oddity perhaps of celebrating one day a year in honour of mothers, especially when they often do so much for us, give so much of themselves for our well-being. A rant however, is not appropriate here. Quite simply, I wish to give thanks to all the mothers in my life, especially my own and do my best to remember this gratitude the rest of my days.

Kleco, kleco for everything that you do, the magic and the mundane, from healing our cuts and scrapes to healing our souls. In retrospect, it is all magic, all wonderful, all beautiful, every last moment. I love you mom.

P.S. I cannot forget all the other mothers and grandmothers and aunties. I have too many to name, seriously, but I love and respect you all. And of course all you newer moms in my life, not my mom, but a mom to my nieces and nephews. My sisters, today is also a special day for you, newer at your jobs, but no less loving and caring, and appreciated. My sister, Ger, and mi hermanas y companeras, Chiinuuks, 'Cilla, Em, Bev, Andrea, Di, Jusquan, Amamas, Kristy, Mare, Kinwa, Dawn, Gloria. Salud to you all!

...and before it gets too late, time to get my butt outta bed (yes, on my laptop writing a bedblog), and see about making some coffee and breakfast for the mothers in this house!

an ode to a kitten

Tonight, I part for the coast and a summer of new memories. Soon, padawan Kitten leaves for the valley of the mighty Nass River. Sooner or later all Kittens grow up and go home. We've had many a thoughtful conversation, pondering the mysteries of indigenous decolonization and resurgence. We've walked and talked our way through the same disillusionment, we've looked near and far and hopefully, we've glimpsed the same hope. Our battle is righteous and honourable. The red pill can sometimes be hard to choke down but it is what it is. Aaniikwaa.

We've also pondered the mysteries of the human heart. Perhaps they are one in the same. The force is strong in this one. She has a resilience and power that is already formidable. Honed and focused, and our enemies best watch out. It is true that she is my clan sister - We are Killerwhales from neighbouring nations. And Kitten has become more than a protege. She has become a friend and a sister in spirit and reality. Although our paths part ways for a time, we will remain steadfast, headed in the same direction.

It has been an honour and privilege.

welcome to this world Noelani

On Monday, April 30th, my good friends Ken and 'Cilla became the proud parents of Noelani Georgia, a beautiful baby girl and yours truly became the proud uncle of a 3rd baby in as many months (after babies Margo and Kimiwan). Congratulations my friends, and of course you too, T. As an elder brother you will be expected to care for and always uphold the dignity, honour, and happiness of your little sister. I will be here for you in every capacity I can for one can never be thankful enough to have friends as close as family.

Despite the ongoing problems of this world, it is moments like this that give us hope of a different possibility. It is not without a sense of paradox and irony of course for what other reality can we have than the one laid out before us? I believe in our ability to roll with the punches when we need to and create change when we must. Our struggle for peace with dignity and lives worth living will not be in vain. Today is indeed a beautiful day.

Goin' Coastal

It looks like W is goin' coastal this summer. I've just received word that I'll be working in the Du Quah art gallery in Ucluelet for my summer job and I have to say that I'm pretty damn stoked. :D (is "damn" still considered a swear word?)

This also means that my moto will be on the road very shortly as well! Woo hoo! Sausage Creatures be damned!

I have a feeling that it's going to be an awesome summer. (do people still say "awesome?")

It is time to make some new memories.

Hasta la victoria siempre!

[photo by Kevin Ebi]

Yaa-uk-mis

The Nuu-chah-nulth word for "love" also contains the experience of "pain."

They are linked, intertwined, inseparable.

Aaniikwaa.

all done...for now.

On Friday, April 20th at exactly 8:59pm, I finished my third year toward a BA in political science. It's only taken 15 years to get this far. I have to say that I really enjoyed my return to school. Despite the relatively heavy course load and endless stacks of books and journal articles and papers, I had fun. I hear some classmates who complain, and I've nothing against them and believe me, it feels good to be done, but I had no complaints this year. After 12 years in the working world, especially the bureaucratic, Aboriginal political working world, school was a breeze. All this time to read, and think and write, as I've said before, "what more could I ask for?"

And now, for the first time in 12 years, I'm looking for summer work again. I have a few promising leads and I'm looking forward to a summer of working, riding my motorcycle, BBQs, a road block or two, and of course some recreational rebellious reading. Last night was odd. After a very brief visit up island with family, I had to return to Mituunii to send some resumes, return library books and such, and I found myself with nothing to do at 9pm. With no cable or even Internet access at home, I found it hard to effectively vegetate. I wasn't quite in the mood to start my summer reading just then, so I ended up revising my resume and 'listening' to my favourite BSG season 3.0 episodes in the background.

So this year, I managed to live on my own for the first time EVER. I didn't starve, ate moderately well, and finally managed to take my father's advice and take cod liver oil diligently for the first time since I was a wee w. I am a true convert. Even though I was pretty hard on my body and immune system with many sleepless nights and last-minute cramming, which usually results in some sort of seemingly self-regulating illness, the cod liver oil did its job. While my classmates fell one by one to some bug or another, I was happy feeling rather "normal" fully appreciating that there indeed, are no ordinary moments.

In 8 months I went through 1.5 tubes of toothpaste, about 10 razors, half a litre of shampoo, about 750ml of contact lenses solution, 300ml of hair gel (thanks mom), many jars of fish (thanks pops, and family), copious amounts of oatmeal, about 6 large pizzas, maybe a quarter jar of oolichan grease (thanks Kitten), one bus pass (thanks NTC), probably about $100 in printing and copying fees, one iPod (thanks Mom and Sis and Gord), 30+ CDs for my friends, 20 episodes of BSG 3.0, 3 sushi and sake dinners, several Friday afternoons at Felicita's, and the unwaivering love and support of many friends and family members. Many klecos to you all.

To the summer of W. :D

(p.s. this picture at the top is my nephew, Kashus taken during my recent visit with him and my family in P.Dot. I think he really looks like my sister).

what's next?

So, after months of guffawing at fellow students who wear sweatpants (although I don't seem to mind the prevalence of Lululemon on campus), and even a couple that wear their bathrobes to class, W has gained a new found appreciation for comfortable clothes. It's not that I'm really formal, and while I might even be accused of snobbery from time to time (:o), I have resisted the all-out comfort clothes at school, until today.

After a week in which I had three relatively sleepless nights, writing papers and such, it was all I could do to pull on my seldom-worn fleece sweat pants and hoody and drag my butt to school. W was sure shabby-looking but comfortable. They may be on to something.

What's next? Birkenstocks? Dreads? Bongo Drumming? Fear not companeros y companeras, while I may appreciate lounge wear, I will remain the W you all know and love (or despise). You all have permission to slap me if next year I show up with my pants around my knees, riding a skate board, with emo hair, and a Dakine backpack.

Here comes the Rain...the Ganhada has landed.

First, I need to issue an official web-welcome to the newest of the wit'waak initiates, Kimiwan ('Rain' in Cree). Kimiwan came into our world, joining his parents, Roots and Darren, and sister last Monday, March 26th. I saw him again last night, and he's doing great, getting used to his new digs, and keeping his parents up at all hours. I also spoke to Em, and baby Margo is also doing well. 'Cilla is the last of this round, and she's due around the 20th of this month. Congrats on your new pad with Mr. Watts and one step closer to respectability!

I also neglected to mention that I have a new tattoo...11 days old now, and just about healed. My bro, Hiish-miik designed it, and I got it done at Urge Studios here in Mituunii. In case you can't tell, it's a 'Ganhada' to honour my grandfather on my mother's side who was of the Raven clan (I already have a Gispidwuda on my left arm in recognition of my grandmother's clan, and therefore my mom's and mine). In this picture, it's about 15 minutes old.

Well, sports fans, I must return to my studies - I only have about 6,000 more words to write between now and tomorrow on democratization and ethnic conflict in Turkey and Indonesia...woo hoo! :D Summer's almost here!

Remember, there are no ordinary moments.

Google and BC Treaty Process

a song...

...from Eden Robinson's Monkey Beach:

Food is dust in my mouth without you.
I see you in my dreams and all I want to do is sleep.
If my house was filled with gold, it would still be empty.
If I was king of the world, I'd still be alone.
If breath was all that was between us, I would stop breathing to be with you again.
The memory of you is my shadow and all my days are dark, but hold on to these memories until I can be with you again.
Only your laughter will make them light; only your smile will make them shine.
We are apart so that I will know the joy of being with you again.
Take care of yourself, wherever you are.
Take care of yourself, wherever you are.

my documentary life, web presence, and IRL

I used to have subscriptions to hi5, myspace, WAYN, bebo, ringo along with numerous MSN groups. Before school began, I cancelled all but my myspace account (declaring it the winner of the pseudo-networking site wars), mostly for the cool, independent tunes. After I returned to school, I discovered facebook. I signed up, attracted by the clean layout (no giant banners, flashing or audible smily-faces) and seemingly exclusive nature of - mostly for university/college students - but I think it has opened its doors to a wider audience as well. I've since been lured back to bebo but I draw a new line in the sand there.

On more than one occasion my friends have joked about taking pictures, specifically posing for pictures with the intent of posting then on myspace or facebook. One cannot ignore the irony of it all - as Old Man Rivers notes, the dichotomy between Life and Living. Are we truly living our lives or merely staging a bunch of photo-ops, or a bit of both? A few of my friends have done better than I, purging their entire web-presence. I've often been impressed by this, and at the same wonder how long they can keep it up.

Hopefully, possibly, my summer job (whatever that ends up being) might take me outdoors and away from the Internet and all my accounts and login IDs and passwords. Till then, I have papers to research, books to read, exams to study for. Only a few more weeks.

Smell the flowers
Turn off your mobile phone (or have a friend steal it from you)
Leave your watch at home
Go to the beach
Sit
Climb a tree
Breathe
Live
Life
Laugh
Play
Be
Now
Here

btw, IRL = In Real Life =D

dignified in defeat

It was inevitable. It had to happen. One cannot be king of the hill forever. Time and circumstance catch up with us all. On this day, the twenty-fifth day of the thirrd month of the year, two-thousand and seven, Kitten, champion of the Nass Valley, the hope of a valient and proud people, did defeat yours truly, humble W. Ok I admit, at a certain point the dramtics gets tiresome. Yeah, so Nic beat me today at 1-on-1. I think she alluded to being inspired by all the March Madness.

Kitten beat Dubya 11-9. It would be false to merely say that my shots were not falling because she played tougher defence, forcing me to alter my shots at the last minute. My only minor face-saving claim is to stuffing (blocking her shot) her a couple times. Good game fierce one.

Finding Dawn...Finding Hope

I've just left the Farquhar Auditorium at the University of Victoria, after having viewed the largest screening to date of Christine Welsh's film, Finding Dawn. I can't remember how many times I cried. We were told that it would be a 'heavy' film, but Christine truly manages to tell a moving, indignant, powerful, and ultimately, hopeful story about the issue of missing and murdered indigenous women in Canada.

It was hard to comment on when the film was over. My friends and I were almost rendered speechless. And at the same time, we cannot be. As indigenous communities, we've been silent about these matters for too long. HUNDREDS of missing and murdered indigenous women. Our sisters. Our mothers. Our aunties. Our daughters. Our cousins. Collectively, we must say, "Enough! No more!" Collectively, we must begin to act, to stop the violence, to restore balance, dignity, and honour to our families and communities.

I applaud Christine Welsh for her monumental achievement in creating this film, in finding the stories and allowing them to be told. So many times, we were brought to tears, as we met these women, their families, became aware of who they were. Christine not only humanizes these victims, she helps us remember our indigenous dignity. The stories are painful and heart-wrenching. I can hardly describe my own visceral, physical reaction.

But she does more than shed light on these issues, long kept silent. On her journey, she also finds hope. This hope reminds us of who we are, and our place in this world. This hope compels us not only to remember these women, but to act, to stop the violence, to uphold our sacred responsibilities. We haven't a moment to lose. We need to take inspiration from work like Christine's film and the stories of the women she shares, and restore, revitalize and rebuild our homes.

I'm looking forward to working with Chiinuuks, Muhwa, Ha'wiih'thlup, Hiish-miik, Seitcha, Wichaninnish, and all my brothers and sisters to Stop the Violence in Nuu-chah-nulth territory. The movement will not stop. It will continue this Spring, this time bringing the dual-message of awareness and hope, to the urban centres where more than 65% of our people live. If you get a chance, see the film, and get involved, and start a movement in your community.

Dignity and Hope.