Je me souviens…

It used to take a guitar to do it, he said…

Then a radio made the living room a gathering place…

When television came along,

we started looking at something other than each other…

We began to separate,

and it affected every neighbourhood,

and every community…

We need to bring back the living room…

We need to make it a family room again…

That’s what Johnny Cash said to me that day,

and I will never forget it…

I will never forget him…

That connectedness,

that harmony,

is how you change the world…

My friend John told me that…

— In One Native Life by Richard Wagamese

Holy wild night of scary dreams…

One after another…

One of the things I do before I go to sleep is pressurize my triple warmer,

and ask to release any fears, worries, or negativity through the night,

for my highest good…

My body has intelligence that I am just beginning to fathom…

It does what it’s told,

and then some…

Last night my dreams were full with native content,

high adrenaline rescues,

gynecological themes,

the eleventh floor,

and so much wasted food…

In the middle of my sleep I woke up from one dream segment with a start,

to find my uterus was weeping,

and a deep knowing that with her fires,

and her floods,

Mother Earth is not happy…

Yesterday evening I went to visit the neighbours,

in an offering of encouragement,

to a young woman,

as she’s about to begin her professional year,

of teacher training…

I don’t know her well,

but when Little Gem was a new born,

she and her twin siblings were here from Trail, B.C. visiting their aunties,

and she always remembers getting to hold the new baby,

born in the house across the street…

Somehow that moment has connected us all in memory…

She wanted to know first and foremost about strategies,

for classroom management…

I remember those days…

Buying book after book to figure out how to keep every kid quiet,

and to stay in control,

because that was part and parcel of successful evaluation…

I told her what I know now,

and I’d wish I’d known then…

1) The only thing you ever have the possibility of being in control of in a classroom,

or anywhere else for that matter,

is your breath…

So when you feel out of control,

focus on your breathing…

Once you regulate yourself,

in silence,

you’d be amazed at how others move to sync up with you…

2) Use your dreams to guide you…

Reflect on a situation,

or ask a question before you go to sleep,

and ask to remember what you need to know when you wake up…

You may not get the whole picture right away but you’ll get the pieces you need to move one small step…

3) Don’t be afraid to cry…

Crying is not an indication of the blocked energy of depression,

it is the movement of emotion,

and tears are a unique capacity of humans (and some horses)…

Crying isn’t a sign of weakness,

or incapability…

And best of all,

tears have the power to clear you out,

removing stagnation and opening locks…

Creativity can flow into the spaces which open up in their wake…

4) A part of you brings everything that you experience,

into your world,

for the purposes of your own growth,

and self-awareness…

Things don’t happen to you,

you make them happen,

whether you are aware of it or not,

and then you have choices about how you’re going to respond,

and learn,

for better or for worse…

5) From the first day you’ll feel like there’s been some big mistake…

Like you’re in the wrong place,

and you’re not like EVERYONE else who understands EVERYTHING that is going on,

when you don’t…

And you’ll be sure that the admissions people were VERY wrong when they accepted you into the program…

If this doesn’t happen to you,

you’re probably not normal,

and I’d be concerned…

I asked her if she ever wanted to quit school during her undergrad…

She said,

Every day…

I said,

Then you know exactly what I’m talking about…

And more importantly you know you can do it…

I told her how I cried from the moment I walked out of my 13 week practicum placement,

all through the night,

and right up to the moment I got to the doors of the school the next morning…

I didn’t know then what I know now about the gift of soaking up sadness,

and expressing a full range of feelings that others refuse to allow,

acknowledge,

and respect…

Once I got out of bed this morning I was reading a story at the back of my new knitting magazine…

The writer was describing herself in Amsterdam as a small child at a parochial school,

and her teacher sternly clad in a nun’s habit looming over her as she tentatively tried to knit a baby sweater…

Her father removed her from the school,

upset that the nuns were trying to correct her left-handedness…

This made me cry,

while I washed the bathroom sink,

in the basement,

for all of the black and white ways we try to reverse,

and interfere with,

the natural order of things…