Racism and Abuse in American Churches: an Untold Story

The Pope made his visit. Victims of the Catholic priesthood made thier needs known and he did meet with them. Some are drawing hope from this. I will draw hope from this when He meets with the Native American leaders in this country and in Canada where many,many victims live quietly with the horrifying memories of abuse. In Canada the story is beginning to be told (www.hiddenfromhisotry.org) and a National day of apology just took place in early June, with the highest authorities in the Canadian government and the highest Native leaders.

No one in America seemsto know about it. And no one in Church circles seems to want to know about it. There has been almost a complete news black out on anything connected to the story, which is well-documented. While Canadians are busy locating Indian burial mounds ala the death of almost 50,000innocents, white Americans continue to believe that they are "saving" the "savages". Unfortunately, it is we who are savage. I have no other words for the deciet and cruelty visited upon Native Americans in THIS era. I have traveled extensively and estimate about 70% of Natives report some form of abuse at the hands of Church authorities. This was not confined to the Catholic church but several protestant denominations as well.
It seems pedophiles and perverts often try to hide in the church as a cover-up for thier real agenda. There is so much of this in one church that I suspect that church has an internal conflict going on with dark societies that have infiltrated to destroy it from within. It is aggravating how some Churches write up father so and so,the great missionary for Indian kids, while several hundred Indian boys remember his abusing them, four at a time.
Back in the cold war era, our boys is the secret military ops department, with the aid of ex-Nazi scientists began experiments with drugs, stress and deprivation on the human mind. Operating in small super-secret cells at major hospitals and universities, scientists attempted to create a "Manchurian candidate" or programed agent who would not remember the programming. It was decided to create multiple personalities in an individual and program one of them. Of course, the easiest way to do this is to get them while they are younge. Native children were used in this, which involved sexual abuse, starvation and depravity of every sort. Yup. Shockingly this did happen until congress found out and put a stop to it. Google Mk-Ultra if you want to know. Be careful, it will make you sick.

I don't for one minute think that this stuff is what America is all about or what Jesus is all about. When are the good Christians going to step up to the plate and throw out pedophiles (let them face legal punishement) and the abusers and quit using religion as a tool to control and colonize others. Jesus did not come to make slaves out of Indigenouse cultures so big corps could clear the land. Keep the church out of politics. clean up the Churches and start the process of reconciliation that Canada and Australia and South Africa are undergoing. We need to put this behind us. We need to be truthfull and to build a strong country where Native Americans feel safe to tell thier story, and where white Christians are able to "hear"it in a good way. Just may thoughts. And please no Nazi influence in America. We don't need it.

A Question of Values

Many in my family are phobic, hoarders, fearful. They regard my travels and associations of people of all classes and races as nothing short of a disgrace and embarassement to them, and the disposing of much of my material goods as evidence of my "madness", a madness, they believe, is made worse by my association with tribes and tribal people. In a word, I am a disgrace to them. And when I attempted to downsize as I aged to smaller and more affordable digs, and to go back to school, I was opposed and ridiculed. Keep the big house (four bedrooms, two baths, 2200sq feet on over sized cedar fenced and porched lot), work two or three jobs I was told. Never ever let go of anything. The fact that the property taxes and minimal expenses alone were more than half of my earnings did not matter. In my family being a slave to your house is a way of life. It is always about image. Image versus reality. Reality was that I no longer could afford it, nor did I need or want the space, once the kids had grown up. One sister and one daughter called me "trailer trash", when I discussed snowbirding in a R.V. and travelling.
My family does not much believe in religion, though they say they do. Show up at Christmas,Easter, weddings and funerals, and that is about it. My mother did like church and made some effort to "instruct" us via Sunday school.
My Dad, from a long line of ministers, seemed to be distant from church, especially after a local"Evangelist" milked his sister and almost the entire town out of their life savings in an investment scheme. Can't say as I blame him there.
However, my involvement with ceremonies with Natives, was regarded as terribly pagan, embarrassing and inexplicable. What would people think!

And in the words of Rhett Butler in "Gone With the Wind", "Frankly Scarlett, I don't give a Damn!"
In my travels I was blessed. I met and interacted with a large number of people from every faith and every situation, including the street people. I learned from all of them. Most of the people I met were Godly good people, imbued with deep spirituality and NOT ALL OF THEM WERE CHRISTIAN.
On many reservations, third world conditions exist with little economic development.
Many native children grow up in large extended families with few personal possessions and they are taught to be patient and to respect their Elders. Often children will serve Elders first and themselves last. This cultural practice ensures the children will be considerate of Elders. Now contrast that to the average white American kid demanding a toy and pitching a fit to get his or her way.
There is a difference in how children are behaving. And the materialistic values dominating American Society is to blame.
Now it is the fourth birthday of a relative. I must be there to "celebrate" with probably about forty guests. At his third birthday the opening of the gifts took several hours with some "play breaks" as the child was getting overwhelmed by it.
There were enough toys for three children easily. Many of the toys were interactive educational toys that make noise, light ,sing dance at the touch of a button, teaching the child that he can make something happen immediately. While such toys engage and stimulate the intellect, how many do you need? Does a childhood filled with this teach a child that all the world is under his control?
The party goers last year could choose a toy from a registry at a local toy store.
Yes, that is right, he was "registered".
What ever happened to accepting what people are able to give and giving "thanks"?

UNFORTUNATELY, my family is not alone in this idea as many young middle class families would see nothing wrong with this. It is a common practice in my neighborhood.
Meanwhile I have traveled and lived among many whose children did not have many toys and who were expected to share whatever they did have. Many of these children are now grown up and leaders in the Native community. Bright intellects, and sharp thinking is there despite the lack of material things in Childhood. Resourcefulness and creativity are strong among the tribes of the world.
Yet, we have many who believe Native people must "think" like us and refuse to respect the cultural differences, insisting that the Euro centric "White" view is the only way. Well, I don't think so. I think we can all learn from each other. Less is more. Humility and respect for Elders is important. When we are too "child centered" as American society is, we create a nation of materialists, who expect instant gratification, who see themselves as the center of the universe.
The truth for me is LESS IS MORE, God is watching and closeness to God cannot be found in an overly indulgent lifestyle. Yeah, I don't agree with the family values.
I think they are like many others, loosing touch with what is really important.
You don't need the "right" neighborhood, school, toys to develop young minds. Many have never had all that junk and turned out just fine.
I guess my values are different. Oh,Well!

Tibetan Singing Bowls and I

I was shopping for something in a New-Agey type place with lots of interesting gifts.
I saw a Buddhist type display with Hindu and Tibetan spices, incense and a brass bowl or two. I had seen them before, carried by Tibetan monks. I wasn't sure if they eat rice in them, accept alms in them or chime them to meditate to the chime. I had playfully tested the sound of the chiming bowls a couple of times before, but had never actually gotten involved with it. This time was different. This time when I chimed it, a wonderfull soft peaceful and joyful vibration ran down my spine from the top of my head, in a rippling effect. "I can FEEL IT!", I exclaimed, totally shocked. I tested it several times and the bowl next to it. I was in love with THAT bowl,the others were not the same. I brought it home with me to enjoy the blissfull feeling I was getting and to delight in it's lovely chime.
But I had gotten more than just a bowl. It has become a powerfull life-changing ex.perience. Within a few more "workings" with it, I began to realize in my meditations the deeper experience that I was having. I began to share my bowl and it's lovely reverberating sound with clients, testing it out over thier bodies, and over the phone...Did you feel it? No? Yes? Where and what did you feel? Did you notice how the sound suddenly drops down and you think it is gone but if you listen closely it is still there...Did you hear it? Some did not feel or hear it. The ones who did, felt as I did, a blissful, joyfull peacefull feeling. This was really fun!
I began to notice that it could subtedly change pitch if you moved the clapper around the outside in a certain way. I began to realize that it was a musical instrument but to "play" it, you had to be totally focused, in the moment, moving the clapper in complete harmony with it. If you were too fast, or too slow, the clapper scraped unpleasantly. I have always loved praise worship, making a joyfull sound unto the Lord. I have loved to sing and pray in song for a long time. This little bowl was an instrument to express peace and joy, the music of God. It has taught me the great power that lies in the simplest of things, the great joy there is in music and sound, and how we must be open, and empty to recieve the beauty of the moment. It has opened me to the idea of the therapuetic use of vibration and music, like a form of ultrasound on the human body. It is helping me to tune in to subtle vibrations and sounds that in our busy life we might ignore. It is becoming my teacher. Thank you Tibet, I have bliss and joy and song and most of all, gratitude.

February

I have a computer, but I think it has me. I spend a lot of time, struggling to understand it, repair it, add to it. It is supposed to make things easier! I love it and hate it all at once. I wish the letters on the keys were brighter...but then there is the issue of glasses falling of my nose! Maybe I am supposed to learn patience. Yes, that's it! It is some kind of karmic lesson in patience!

Looking at the photos of Ketchickan, Alaska

I was looking at photos of Ketchikan, Alaska, where I lived for almost three years. I was thinking of buying some, to remind me of that magical place. I began watching the slide show, searching for the "just right" one that I might buy, when I began to drift, in and out of the photo, remembering the aliveness of the place, the magic of the place, the complete absolute drop-dead -stunning-crystal-sparkles-in-your-eye-beauty of that place. Suddenly I am back there, watching the gulls diving for scraps of bread on the beach. I am watching the fog roll in, dancing shimmering tall willowy figures walking down the mountains. Spirit-filled fog that you can feel, so thick you think it is smoke. When Fog Woman comes walking everyone knows. The mists rise with a sigh, to be replaced suddenly by the thick,heavy I-can't-see-my-way-home fog. She is present still, watching over her people, just out of sight, just a breath away. And a red Pacific Salmon jumps in the stillness, in and out of time. We tell her story to the tourists. They think she is a "myth". When you live there you will know.

When I was a child, I used to dream about a magical island, shrouded in mists. I learned later it was Avalon, the mythic island of the celts, near Glastonbury Tor, most ancient and sacred place in Europe. And when I was in mid-life I followed my dreams on a four thousand mile journey that left me in Alaska, on a small island in the middle of the largest rainforest in the world. And this is a piece of my true story.