Insights

I have never thought twice about helping those I care for. This was not a lesson that was ever orally taught to me but a lesson I learned through observation from those who lovingly raised me. If I felt I had it in me to help others I would do so in heartbeat. However, it wasn’t until recently that I noticed that I don’t always do the same for myself. Does this mean that I don’t care myself?

One of the lessons I have been learning in school about my Native beliefs is that our way of teaching and understanding our place in the world is founded on relationships. My understanding of the teachings left behind from the ancestors is that our way of life is governed by respecting relationships. Our way of living has existed for thousands of years because we strived to maintain an equilibrium with our environment. Our governance was built on maintaining healthy relationships within the community. As a Native person I have made it my goal to make sure I honor this principle of respecting relationships.

In effort to take start taking better care of myself I tried talking to myself in the mirror. I have to admit I felt a bit silly doing so that it took me a minute to keep my composure. But when I finally started to take the exercise seriously I noticed that it felt like a stranger was looking back at me. What a disconcerting feeling that was. Why did it feel like a stranger was looking back at me? I can’t remember why but I deduced that it was because I haven’t been taking care of myself. Don’t get me wrong I do make an effort to take care of my well being. For instance, I like keeping myself active and I try to make sure I eat right. That last one is always a struggle for me because I have a huge weakness for cheeseburgers. I also let myself have fun by doing the things I like, such as reading my graphic novels (nerd code for comics) or watching some of my favorite TV programs (for posterity let’s leave out specifics). I know there’s more to self-care than the things I just mentioned but the point is I thought was doing an ok job at looking after myself.

However, once I felt the gaze of a stranger looking me in the eyes of that mirror that day. I realized I’ve been extremely hard on myself lately. Anyone who has ever met knows that I really value other people’s opinion of me. What I didn’t realize was how much I would let it bother me if I felt someone didn’t have a good opinion of me. When I feel like someone doesn’t like who I am or what I am doing I get really concerned or I get really upset. Unfortunately, during those times I’m not at all reasonable. This is something that I recognized and have been trying to work on the last few months.

I guess what I’m really saying is this, when it comes to forgiving or forgetting my friends and family’s mistakes I’m more than willing to be understanding but when it comes to my own downfalls I don’t know how to confront or handle them. Because of my inability to cope with my problems I feel like I have dysmorphed myself into someone who isn’t a good person. It hasn’t been until recently that I’ve realized that by thinking of myself that way I’m only adding to the stress that I’m already putting on myself. It’s been throat swelling hard the amount of pressure I’ve been putting on myself to be a good person once again. Right now I need to take the time to get to know and accept the person in the mirror. I need and want to build a healthy relationship with myself.

A song that brings me to tears right now

"Love's what you left me with" by Finger Eleven

Lots of wonderful things you'll become
You always used to say
All the time that ties down in your life
Feels different today
I feel bad cause there is no other place in your arms
That id rather be
I know loves what you left me with
But I can't believe you left me

All the wonderful things to become
What possibilities
And the struggle of finding yourself
Was never lost on me
Every ending has to be too much too soon
For just about everybody
I know loves what you left me with
But I can't believe you left me

Lots of wonderful things to remember
It's such a stupid shame
Swept away with my own share of pain
I won't forget again
I can only tell you for sure
That I'm not sure of anything
Except loves what you left me with
But I can't believe you left me

Every ending has to be too much too soon
For just about everybody
I know loves what you left me with
But I can't believe you left me

I know loves what you left me with
But I can't believe you left me

End.

When I listen to this song I don't imagine that I'm the one singing it.

Personal Issues

It's been a very long time since I've updated this blog. A lot has happened in the year or so its been since I've last blogged. For better or for worse, I can honestly say that I don't feel like the some person who once started this blog.

It's amazing how quickly time can fly right when you don't want it too. Unfortunately, it would appear right when you need time to hurry up a single day can last an enternity. Lost and scared I struggle to find that bullet proof man I once was.

About a month ago I had this dream that I was standing in this rundown apartment building waiting for an elevator. The elevator doors open and I can see that elevator looks worse than the depressing hallway that I'm standing in. Yet I get in anyway. I push the button but don't take notice which my desired floor is. All I know is that I intended to go down, and down is definately the direction I'm going because suddenly the elevator is in free fall. However, the last thing I feel in that moment is free. Scared, lost, and vulnerable I somehow stand and sit in the corner of the elevator. The elevator gets caught between floors. I can't tell if I'm screaming or whispering for help but either way someone pry's open the doors. With the elevator being stuck between floors all I can make out is a person's crouching leg and an attentive arm reaching out. Terrified I ask if I should reach out.



"We need to get you outta there."



Encouraged, I reach out. Just as I'm reaching out to this mystery person the elevator reminds me of the gravity of the situation. Frantic, my feet start desperately trying to find a foot hold to brace myself with. Halfway out of the elevator threatens to cut me in half.



Heart pounding I wake up in a cold sweat. I don't recall if I make it out of the elevator. Later that day I start to reflect on my dream. At first I make the conclusion that I made it out of the elevator. I then assume that my mind was letting me know that I'm ready to come out of this cold dark place that I've felt so trapped in for the last few months. I choose to take this terrifying nightmare as a positive sign that I'm starting to deal with whatever is making me feel so depressed.



I lay here in my apartment feeling just as sad, upset, and lost as I once did not to long ago. I now doubt that I ever made it out of that elevator. This isn't to say that I went down with elevator. I have to assume that I'm still struggling to make it out. As I re-live this terrifying experience I start to wonder who this mysterious stranger is that is helping me. At first I assumed this mystery person was culmination of all those who love me because I've had some great friends and family supporting me during this confusing and scary time in my life. Perhaps this mystery person is myself. This is going to take me some time to figure out who this person is and how to let them help me out of this elevator that I seem to be stuck half way in.



Thank you for taking the time read my thoughts.



Klecko, Klecko

What did you call me??

I was working the other night and a co-worker noticed the tattoo I have on my forearm; a Native inspired wolf design. He then asked me if I were Native and I told him that I was.

“Is it ok to call Native people ‘Indians?’” he asked.

“Not really, it’s a term that is a little outdated,” I replied.

“But I heard some other Native people calling each other “Indians” the other day?!”

I laughed, “Yeah I know, but I’m sure you have some friends that call you certain names, which no one else can get away with.”

Upset I did not give him permission to call Native people “Indians,” he ended the conversion unsatisfied.

If I had a piece of bannock for every time I have had this conversation, I would be one fat Indian.

This post is intended to explain why certain Native people prefer to be called some terms, and/or why they do not like to be called other terms.

“Indians”-This term was coined because Columbus thought he discovered India. This is one reason some Native people don’t like to be called Indian. Also, this term hasn’t been used very well when talking about Native people in the past. Indian has also been used to describe over five hundred dark skinned nations (Rheault, 1995). Furthermore, the term Indian has been used by the media to reinforce a stereo-typical image of Natives.

“Aboriginal”- This term originates from the Canadian Government’s “Indian Act” (Weaver, 2001), and has been advertised as the “politically correct” term to call Native people these days. It has been described as the correct way to refer to Native, Inuit, and Métis people. I personally do not like this term for a couple of reasons. The first reason I don’t like this term is because it was created by the Canadian Government. As a Native person, I have a very large chip on my shoulder when it comes to the Canadian Government. The second reason I don’t like this term is because when you break it down it goes, Ab-Original, meaning not original. It is similar to Abnormal; meaning not normal. Also the fact that this term is used to describe Native people, Inuit people, and Métis in one-word is kind of offensive. I should clarify, it isn’t the Inuit people and Métis Nations that are offensive, quite contrary I have nothing but respect for these cultures and it is because of this respect that I am offended. We the Native people, the Inuit people, or the Métis Nations should not be lumped into one category.

“Native”-This term refers to someone who has Native ancestry. I don’t think I have met a person who has a problem with this one, so it’s probably your best bet.

“First Nations”-This is another term that is usually pretty safe to use. However, some people prefer to be called by the specific tribe that they are from.

"Indigenous"- This term is similar to Native, because it implies a natural belonging to the environment. I have noticed it is most common in academic writing.

Of these terms I prefer Native, First Nations, and Indigenous. I should mention that not all Native people feel exactly as I do in regards to all of these terms but I think most will agree.

References

Rheault, D'Arcy The Circle of Life: Thoughts on Contemporary Native Life. Trent University, 1995.

Weaver, Hilary Indigenous Identity. American Indian Quartly, 2001.

Greetings

Hello,





Please allow me to introduce myself, my name is Dan, and I am a proud First Nations person. Although I have been raised in Victoria my whole life, I come from the Toquaht tribe, a Nuu-Chah-Nulth nation that is near Ucluelet, BC.

You may have noticed that I have chosen the name Native Word Warrior for my blog. For as long as I could remember, I have always believed that being Native also made me a warrior. As a child, I thought a warrior was someone who was physically able to defend the rights and freedoms of their people. Following this line of thinking, I always tried my hardest to be the best athelete I could be. I took up wrestling and worked very hard to become captian of the team. At the same time I was able to join the same Kung Fu club my Mom and Uncle joined when they were younger, and was later honoured to become an instructor.

Later in my life I became a bouncer for a number of years. As I analyze this period of my life, I realize it was a self gratifying job because I was able to express my romaticized ideal of being a warrior. In a very vague sense, it was my way for me to physically defend the rights and freedom of others. Haha funny, no?

After a while, I realized I couldn't work in a bar my entire life, or least I realized that I would not be happy with myself if I did. I quit working as a bouncer to look for something else, because something felt missing in my life. That lead me to becoming a construction worker for a year and half. That wasn't a bad job because it paid well; yet, I grew even more unhappy with myself. I had finally decided to stop making excuses to myself and looked in to going back to school.

This decision lead me the First Nations Dept at Camosun College. As I sat down with one of the advisors, poundering who I will become when I grow up, I looked around and thought to myself, "why don't I take First Nations Studies?" My Mother has always taught me to be proud to be Native and I thougt taking First Nations Studies would be a great way to express my Native pride.

A few months later, I am being asked to introduce myself to the class and tell others why I decided to take the First Nations College Prep course. As I'm introducing myself, I found myself saying that I want to honour my Native pride ; by using the written and spoken word to educate and empower our people. I want to become a "word warrior."

At that moment I made a vow; to educate myself in First Nations Studies and further my knowledge in our ways. Armed with academic knowledge about our people and trained in our ways I will use my "words" to defend the rights and freedoms for our people.

To become the word warrior I want to be, I will have to find other word warriors that have come before me, and learn from their experiences. Who knows, perhaps I will join other word warriors, and we will inspire others to join us in our fight against colonialism. An idealist? Haha...I've been called worse.