Summer Rain

driving hard

pushing us indoors

summer rain reminds

of

cycles

blessings

showering

love

courage

strength

resilience

hardship

nourishment

until

silence

nothingness

where

only

summer rain remains

Presidential Visit

Yesterday was a big day for our little street in the North Valley.

As I took the kids to school, NPR talked about President Biden’s trip to the southwest, which was to include two fundraisers.

“One of those two will take place on our street,” we realized together.

 The first visit from Secret Service over the weekend gave us a sense of how big this was. The street would be shut down at times during the day, and we were told what we could and couldn’t do. The big offer was that we could take pics with the presidential limousine when the event was happening. A 50-car motorcade would come in with the President, and the attendees of the fundraiser would be bused in. Governor Lujan-Grisham and multiple Pueblo Governors were going to be in attendance as well.

Monday night, the Flegs were busy making signs to place in our front yard to help welcome the President.

"Welcome to our neighborhood Mr. President"

How it all actually went down? Well, you could get a better account of that from my family. (If you really need to know right away, go to Longfellow Elementary School today and ask for Sihasin or Shandiin. I am sure the Principal will be happy to pull them from their learning to talk to you.)

While I wasn’t there to see it all, but I do know that it took me an hour to get from “just around the corner from home” to getting to my house. As I approached our road, police were re-directing everyone. I found a place to park along a ditch and decided to try to walk home. On the way, a police vehicle stood blocking the trail. Even my proof of living on the street was not enough to get me past. The officer assured me, “Don’t worry. It is almost over,” as he listened to a play-by-play on his radio of what was happening at the event. 

“The President has just set down his glass. Oh, wait…he looks to be taking another sip after all. Now wiping his mouth with a napkin.” 

Exciting stuff!

After standing there for about 10 minutes, the motorcade began to exit our street. Neighbors stood in their driveways waving at the President as he waved back. I can at least say that I saw the President’s vehicle 100 yards in front of me, and can tell you that it was black and had tinted windows. Hey, that’s good enough for a tabloid story, right?

This morning, our street is quiet again. As if nothing happened.

And I am smiling, knowing that I will able to get to my house this evening.

Pic with the presidential limousine.

Biden waving from the back seat of the limo as he passes our house.

Beginnings

Beginnings

require a letting go

releasing grief’s tears

who nourish the soil

coaxing seed from its casing

as life sprouts anew.

 

Beginnings

mark endings

the two dancing in step

affirming and erasing the other all at once

blending and fusing until they are indistinguishable

leaving growth in their wake

making growth all that matters

 

Beginnings

allow what was to recede

what is becoming clear

as what could be emerges

Rain drops from nowhere

The first drops hit my skin.

I thought it was just sweat. I was running after all.

Then a few more.

I looked up. A sunny NM morning, no clouds and definitely no rain clouds above me.

I knew it was going to be a special day.

Rain without clouds was a sign. The fact that I am starting to run again, 4 months from the calf injury was another.

I got home, took off my blue Running Medicine shirt and put on a yellow Running Medicine shirt.

I spent the next hour with a group called Addict 2 Athlete (A2A), helping to lead a workout at a local park. Great energy, with all of us healing and recovering together through an intense workout.

Sped home, and took out my 3^rd Running Medicine shirt of the day, this one a maroon color. Off to coach my son and our Running Medicine basketball team in the county rec league.

Then off to cheer on our RM team at the regional track meet. No shirt change this time.

I guess the theme for today’s piece could be “A morning in the life of a mover” or “Anthony is a bit different”, but let’s go back to the raindrops and those small gifts that each day gives.

Some of the gifts in your day today, like the raindrops from nowhere, will be unexpected and unexplainable.

Look for those today.

Embrace them when they come.

Spend a moment to enjoy the gift, stepping back from computer and anything else that might distract you from gratitude.

Find someone to share the gift, the amazement with. In my case, the rain drops led to a conversation with another trail-goer as we shared a moment of awe and wonder.

May rain fall from nowhere for/on us today.

May we be present enough to notice it when it does.

Striking down affirmative action - a loss for all of us

Until we have eliminated inequities along the lines of racial status, affirmative action is just and necessary.

I write this as a white male for whom doors have been opened from my birth. Access to great schools, support if I ever faltered, and all of my basic needs being met. I got into college because of race – my white race – that gave me an unfair advantage in the game of standardized testing, AP classes etc.

It is a sad day for equity, a huge loss for justice when our supreme court says that leveling the playing field is now against the rules. It is a loss for under-represented, minoritized communities. But it is a loss for all of us. We lose out when students who have faced closed doors since birth are asked to play on an “equal” playing field with people like me, for whom the doors were always open. When one of those students who is destined to be a brilliant engineer, a stellar lawyer, or a climate change leader is denied admission to college because of the “equal” playing field (e.g. one without affirmative action), we all lose.

Let us not lose hope brothers and sisters. These assaults on women’s bodies and affirmative action by a court with a perverted sense of justice should give us added momentum to work together to make sure that their gavel is drowned out by the symphony of our voices singing freedom songs as we work toward equity and justice. Let that gavel be muted by our loud, boisterous and loving efforts to build The Beloved Community.

I call to mind Cornel West’s wisdom: “Justice is love expressed in public.”

That’s the gavel I choose to honor, listen to, and ground my actions today.

ICWA - A victory for all of us!

A few days ago, I heard a story about one of our Native elders. He saw his nephew being prepared for adoption, with a plan to have the boy go to live with a non-Native family across the country. This elder knew of the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA), a law passed in 1978 to reverse the removal of American Indian children from their communities and went into action to adopt his nephew, citing ICWA. He was successful, and the child was kept in his home Tribal community.

That made me think of my wife’s father, who was plucked from his mother on the Navajo Nation to be raised by a Mormon family in southern California. A group of government officials deemed his mother too told and not healthy enough to raise her son. To this day, some of his siblings refuse to acknowledge him as part of the family.

These stories took on another meaning yesterday, as the Supreme Court ruled 7-2 to uphold ICWA,something that was far from a certainty given the current composition of the Court.

This is a big win for all of us, whether we are American Indian or not. 

This is a win for justice.

This is a win for Indigenous peoples and their sovereignty. 

It is a win for Indigenous cultures and languages. 

It is a win for all of us.

A bit more about ICWA

Removing children from their Tribal communities and placing them with non-Native families far away from home was a continuation of the centuries of U.S. policy toward the original inhabitants of the land. The goals included elimination of Indigenous people from this land (genocide) and the elimination of Indigenous culture/language (colonization).

“Before ICWA, as many as 35 percent of all Native children were being removed, usually forcibly, mostly from intact Native American families with extended family networks, and placed in predominantly non-Native homes, which had no relation to Native American cultures. In some cases, the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) paid the states to remove Native children and to place them with non-Native families and religious groups.

ICWA gives tribal governments a strong voice concerning child custody proceedings that involve Native children, by allocating tribes exclusive jurisdiction over the case when the child resides on, or is domiciled on, the reservation, or when the child is a ward of the tribe; and concurrent, but presumptive, jurisdiction over non-reservation Native Americans' foster care placement proceedings.” (Wikipedia)

So, on this week that sits between PRIDE and Juneteenth, a week that reminds us that our country can stand for inclusion and an honest account of our history, we add ICWA to the party.

On a week where we celebrate fathers, we get a well-timed present in the form of a Supreme Court ruling that allows Indigenous kids to have dads and moms and uncles and aunties and grandparents who can teach them the stories and ceremonies of their cultures. 

For a U.S. government that has made efforts to destabilize the family structure in Indigenous and other communities of color since the inception of this country, ICWA being upheld is a small victory.

Colors That Speak Words

I started to sweat.

I was a guest presenter in a class for medical students on writing and healing.

That wasn’t the part that made me nervous.

The students were to find a piece of art and write a response to that work.

I had not done the homework. And I didn’t want to show up not having done the exercise.

Sweat glands continued to activate.

I glanced next to my work computer and saw a piece of art from Mallery Quetawki, one of my favorite artists. (She did the cover art for the book Writing to Heal.)

So, I wrote a piece in the few minutes I had before it was my turn to share.

The writing process itself coaxed the sweat glands back to rest mode.

I decided to share the piece with Mallery, curious if she would be able to figure out which of her pieces of art I was writing to. She immediately knew, and said this was the first time anyone had written poetry in response to her art.

An idea was born.

(Procrastination as the mother of creativity!?)

Six months later, Mallery, myself, and two other creatives – Blythe Mariano and Chilan Mustain – get to present a show on this concept to the world. Colors that Speak Words is about translating, transforming, and transcending art into a written form. And vice versa – taking a piece of poetry and creating art in response. The opening is this Friday, 5-7pm and it all happens at the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center. The exhibit will be up until mid October. A big shout out to IPCC Museum Curator Paula Mirabel and her team that has helped make this a reality.

I shared one piece from the show a few months back, and will share the original art and poem that started it all here. 

An invitation to take out pen and paper and write your own piece to Mallery's art. No sweating required.

abundance

cultural beauty

warmth + love

                                growing

                                flowing

corn pollen blessings

beading beauty

up

in double helix harmony

                                                over

                                                                kiva

                                                                plaza

                                                                dancers

                                                around

                                                                circle

                                                                ceremony

                                                grounded

                                                                by pottery’s

                                                                abundance

                                                                cultural beauty

                                                                warmth + love