At.óow, Sacred Objects, the Spirit Within and listening to the Ancestors speak to me...

And the story continues...

     Yesterday I was looking for something in the living room, and while I was searching, a book on the shelf caught my eye, the Spirit Within.  I literally laughed out. I have been thinking about buying this book for a while and just looked on Amazon the day before.  I hadn't realized it was in my Mom's collection!  On my short visit to the Seattle Art Museum on Friday, I bought another book, Tangible Visions, Northwest Coast Indian Shamanism and It's Art, because I couldn't find The Spirit Within.  

    The Spirit Within was published by the SAM in 1995 (and it's out of print) on its Northwest Coast Native American galleries.  As I opened up the book, I opened to a section from Nora Marks Dauenhauer on at.óow.  She  explains different aspects of the at.óow, and this passage hit home.

 " For example, a member of the Lukaax.ádi clan from Haines will know and recognize the Íxt'i Xook Gwalaa (Emaciated Shaman Dagger) as our at.óow, with our shuká and shagóon, our past and our future, on it.  We also know that the name Saayina.aat is still carried by one of our women.  If the dagger were still in the family, the women of the Lukaax.ádi as well as anyone connected to it by genealogy,  whether Eagle or Raven, would give or be given spiritual strength and well-being by seeing it, especially in ritual display.  As it is now, the spiritual connection is absent from the clan of its origin, along with the spiritual well-being it once provided.  This is the importance of our art and our at.óow."  P. 23

     This understanding that sacred objects owned by Clans, passed down through generations of guardians, only brought out on special occasions, are believed to give spiritual strength and well-being to descendants of the Clan by seeing it explains a lot to me.  When I first visited the Seattle Art Museum in August 2012, I was immediately drawn to the Tlingit and Tsimshian pieces.  I posted photos of a Tsimshian Soul Catcher, a Klukwan Frog housescreen and a brown Bear Staff from Angoon.  Every time I visit the SAM, I try to walk through the Native Art galleries.  To me it's like visiting family heirlooms. They flame a sense of honor and nobility within my heart. That the People I am descended from were such Master artists gives me a strong sense of pride. I know these objects were collected and sent to museums across the globe.  Our Art is cherished by Art lovers throughout the world.

     

    This explanation of the role these sacred objects play in our lives tells me why my heart longs to see these objects. They have for generations been a part of our spiritual lives. Now the Western trained part of my mind may question how can this be?  How can objects give spiritual strength and well-being?  But the Indian trained part of my mind also knows that the Universe includes spiritual, mystic forces that defy Western beliefs.  Every time I see these objects and the other Tlingit and Tsimshian objects in the SAM, my heart is happy and I feel stronger.

     Now thinking more on the mystical side is it possible these at.óow also long to see me?  After being in close company of our Clans for generations, to be housed so far from home and far from their Clans, to be visited by a descendent and to be talked to with love and endearments?  I hope so!  Or maybe it is the joy of the Ancestors I can feel, that their cherished objects are being visited by a descendant and whispered words of Tlingit.  

     I am ending with a prayer that I turn to when I need strength and well-being. In it describes the connection we have with those in the Next World and the powers of the spiritual realm that can be given to us. 

      O LORD! Help this daughter of the Kingdom to be exalted in both worlds; cause her to turn away from this mortal world of dust and from those who have set their hearts thereon and enable her to have communion and close association with the world of immortality. Give her heavenly power and strengthen her through the breaths of the Holy Spirit that she may arise to serve Thee. Thou art the Mighty One. - 'Abdu'l-Baha

My Passion for Art & Indian Country and the Blessings sent by my Ancestors

     If I thought I couldn't find words to describe the last couple weeks and all the amazing experiences I've had, I am truly stunned by what took place yesterday.  Starting with watching Celebration online, spending two nights in Seattle with my girls on a lovely stay-cation, witnessing the Suquamish Tribe's Ceremony to honor the Killer Whales, seeing the Suquamish Canoes depart for a 500 mile 3 week trip to Bella Bella, hearing the power of amazing drums at the Muckleshoot pow wow and visiting an exhibit of art based on Social Justice by Latoya Ruby Frazier at the SAM.         

     Watching Celebration online for 3 days actually left me feeling high.  Hearing Tlingit spoken, listening to stories of songs and stories of our history that are generations old, seeing so many children speaking Tlingit, and witnessing the wealth of our Peoples made my heart so happy.  I am so grateful I took Tlingit language in college, because now I have some hope of understanding what is being shared, even a tiny bit.  When I watched how much wisdom and knowledge our Peoples possess, I was confident that it is only a matter of time when we reach a point of healing historical trauma that enables us to quickly rebuild our Communities. 

     Witnessing Suquamish's powerful and eloquent honoring of the visits of the killer whales again was a symbol of strength, true wealth and healing of historic trauma. Knowing that Indian dancing and ceremonies were at one time illegal and today we are reviving these Ancient and Sacred traditions, it heals an injury that hurt our preceding generations. The absence of our language, our songs and dances Robert Davidson eloquently carved in We Were Once Silenced.  We have had to slowly research and rebuild, our language, our songs and dances, our Art.

     Listening to the drums at the Muckleshoot Pow Wow is hard to describe.  But the power of the drums vibrate throughout your body.  My heart feels like it expands and a good song can transport you to another dimension.  Time can seem to stop. Seeing the dancers always leaves me amazed. Their strength and agility is magnificent. The Regalia always blows my mind, the sheer volume of talented artists and designers is incredible. Is there another group of people on Earth producing this much artwork simultaneously?

     These three events are proof that we in Indian Country are truly healing the historic trauma we have experienced since our Homelands have been invaded.  Our land, our ways of subsistence, our children and our way of life have all been stolen along this dark path. But we have survived. We self medicate the theft, poverty, racism, violence and grief and now have to deal with consequences of multi-generational addiction.  But even as we still feel the pain of the dark path, the bright Sun of a New Day is dawning. If you look closely you can see the re-birth of Sacred Traditions that heal and bring both prosperity and peace. When Indian Country heals so does the whole human family.

     Robert Davidson shares in the video accompanying Abstract Impulse that the Art, Songs, Dances, Language and Ceremonies are all interwoven. You cannot separate them.  In Tlingit the idea of At.woo from my understanding is objects become so Sacred that they not only represent the Ancestors, but it is believed they are the Ancestors. They are treated with the highest regard and kept safe, our precious treasures.

     So yesterday, Gunalcheesch to the Creator of the Universe and the Ancestors, I was in the presence of so many At.woo that I cannot describe it.  I believe in Synchronicity, that I will be exactly where I am meant to be when I am meant to be. So last Tuesday after a long full 3 days of fun-filled days in the Big City I was debating whether or not I could pull myself together for the Suquamish dinner for the Canoe Journey. I didn't even realize that there was a Ceremony planned, too.  After the honoring of the Killer Whales (my clan by the way, wink), I met Sven from the Burke Museum. He  invited me to come visit. I immediately, that night, emailed and we began discussing a good time for both of us.

     I didn't realized his invitation meant visiting the storage facility at the Burke.  As soon as he brought me in I was stunned by the number of bentwood boxes in front of me.  I recognized the age and period of some of the pieces from the SAM and the catalog of Abstract Impulse.  He and his colleague, Justin, were talking to me and my brain was completely at max capacity. I was trying to look at the precious treasure in front of me AND discern what they were saying. After I understood I was allowed to take pictures, I took photos of nine objects. The Sacred objects are stored in sliding shelves, huge ones, and I can't even remember all of the pieces I saw. It's a blur.  As each shelve was moved and a new shelf was accessed my brain seemed to slow down more and more!

     All day afterwards I felt like I was recovering from shock, not quite fully present. I immediately texted my Mom and sisters to tell them what happened. I called my Dad.  And this morning, I'm still processing one of the most wonderful blessings I have experienced in my life.  My personal journey of flaming my passion for Art and especially Art in Indian Country seems to have arrived at a new level.  

Father's Day is Complicated

     First I have to say Gunalcheesh to the Creator for sending me two fathers!  My biological father and my step father.  Both have made my life and my journey possible.  Looking back on my childhood is complicated because my parents are both Children of Alcoholics. Both of my grandfathers were alcoholic and abandoned their family at some point.  So both my mother and father grew up being raised by super human mothers. 

     Mothers in a time when women had limited choices of career and opportunities. Add on top of that being Indian Filipino women at a time when Racism was overt and painful.  Mom has 5 siblings. Dad has 6.  The stories of my parents and their fathers are mostly sad and full of absence.  Their mothers worked, one went to college, to support the children.  The kids had to watch and care for each other.  The older ones caring for the younger ones.  There were extended times of hunger and poverty was always a flood waiting to crest and fill their lives with crisis.  My Dad recently shared a story of his family living in Seattle as a child, with rats that would come out in the dark of the night. My Mom said this last Thanksgiving, "I don't have happy memories of Thanksgiving as a kid.  We were poor and hungry."

     My parents provided a home where both parents were present until I was about 17. I have fond memories of growing up surrounded by their families in Seattle and San Jose.  I am forever grateful for the absolutely phenomenal women I have the privilege to call Grandma. Both women showered unconditional love and supported us financially, supplementing what my parents could provide.   I have incredible Aunts and Uncles, 4 women and 7 men, who all made an impact on my childhood.  I grew up in a pod of killer whales and a full nest of eagles, my cousins. Neither of my parents drink alcohol, which has been a blessing which I am sure future descendants will honor as a miracle. 

     I grew up being told how smart and talented I was. My oldest memories are being with my family in Seattle (before we moved to San Jose was I was 5).  I remember leaving the Seattle Center once after losing a balloon. A cousin told me the full moon was my balloon following us home. Another memory is of an Uncle babysitting me on a beautiful sunny Seattle day.  In San Jose, an Uncle taught me the Hula and shared his passion for broadway musical albums and Diana Ross.  Their love continues to give me the courage and confidence today to say things I am not sure how others will respond to.  

     My parents separated when I was 17 and divorced soon after.  My sisters were 13 and 6 years old.  Our home had become like a chamber with less and less oxygen.  It was becoming more and more difficult to function.  When I heard that we were separating it felt like I was able to breathe for the first time in a very long time. It felt like I had been not breathing and I hadn't even realized it until the door was opened and air rushed in.

     My mother married again when I was 21. This brought a new father figure into my life. I was married myself several months later. Our Step Father is a perfect balance to our mother. His strengths complemented her weaknesses. And her strengths complemented his weaknesses.  Together they built a true fortress of well-being and it's been a refuge for all of us girls and our families for the last 19 years.  When my marriage was falling apart 13 years later, I took my children to my parents home a continent away when my home was no longer safe and we needed shelter.  Watching the difference of how they tackled disagreement, with consultation, prayer and respect was eye opening. It contrasted so strongly what I was surviving, I knew my marriage was sick. 

     Today my girls father is absent. It took me a good year to figure out after the divorce that being present in their lives was not his priority.  Al-Anon has helped me to understand that expectations leave a door open for disappointment. So I no longer expect him to be present. Al-Anon also taught me that I can't control another person and their choices, what I call "their side of the fence".  I can only control what's on my side of the fence.  So I do the best that I can to make sure that their needs as children are met. And my family supports me.  Yes, there are movements when it pisses me off to be left with the majority of the work that it takes to raise healthy and happy children.  But I don't dwell in anger or resentment (yes, he drives a $40,000 car and the girls don't take art classes, chuckles).  Al-Anon has given me a life free of Insanity.

     My spiritual belief is that the home of peace that I have created for my children is more important than the car I drive, or the clothes they wear, or that I struggle to make ends meet. My grandmothers raised amazing human beings while flooded with the consequences of extreme poverty.  My girls are blessed with a family who loves them exactly the way they are.  They have two grandfathers who love and support them. They have an Uncle who is present in our everyday lives, being a model of what a father and husband looks like when a family is healthy and happy.  They have Great Uncles who shower them with love and gifts.  And it's my prayer there is father on earth that will come in divine time who will love these precious daughters and who wants to be present in their lives everyday. 

     Gunalcheesh to the Creator. 

PS the photo is a House Screen, which symbolizes home and security for me.

Some thoughts after someone has shared their opinion I have a victim mentality! Chuckles.

     My decision to be a stay at home mother was made when my daughter was born in Spring 2001 and her father began medical school that Fall. I balanced the knowledge that he would be very focused for the next 7 plus years, and my most recent job was teaching pre-school in Headstart in a small town in Alaska. I understand the equation about how much salary a mother makes minus how much it costs to pay for child care while she works. I believe I was lucky enough to have a husband who agreed to the financial sacrifice and to live on a meager income on student loans and scholarships to support our small family. 

     Once my daughter was old enough, about 1 1/2,  I got a child care license and looked for a child to care for.  One child.  I felt it would give me just enough income to put food on the table and would be a good ratio for both kids.  I found a family whose father was in medical school and whose mother was working to support their family.  This little guy and his mother became like my family during the years I cared for him.  My daughter considered him her best friend.   We went to parks, to the library, we trekked to the nearby zoo, 45 minutes away.  And I quickly learned caring for two kids who play with each other is actually easier than caring for a single child.

     It was challenging supporting a spouse through medical school.  You know college, it seems like there is always more homework to be done.  It is never over.  My theory was the more I could care for our daughter and the household duties, the more he could study, meaning he would get a good residency placement and our futures would have many opportunities from this investment and sacrifice.  I did all the cooking, laundry, and most of the housekeeping. I did all of the child rearing.   I applied for food stamps when a fellow graduate student spouse informed me we were eligible because student loans is not considered income.  Every bit that added to the food on the table was worth the embarrassment and judgement of the social workers.  I figured we were tax paying citizens in the past and we would again both be in the future. But right now we needed help feeding our daughter.

     When he graduated from medical school, I took partial credit for his high GPA. How many other students had their own personal laundry service and chef for those four years?  Chuckles. And our daughter was well cared for. She was happy, smart and quite an artist even at 4 years old.  He got the residency match we chose. I decided if he was gonna be in a hospital for 80 hours a week for the next 3-4 years, I would rather stay at this hospital where my friends were, my support circle.  My daughter and I had a group of friends of mothers with young kids. Our Baha'i community was my family away from home.  I took my daughter every week to the Prayer Breakfast on Sundays.  It was one meal a week I didn't have to cook for those 8 years. And the Baha'is were so welcoming and embracing. I wouldn't have survived those 8 years without my girlfriends and their children.

     Now when I decided to have child number two I knew it was illogical. I was completely at capacity caring for the one child I had and my husband during a grueling medical education.  But my love for my siblings, my sisters, drove me to throw logic aside. I wanted my children to have the best friends that my sisters are to me.  And so during his first year of residency in January my second daughter was born.  About a year later, trying to balance a budget on a resident's salary, (we no longer qualified for food stamps! Yay) I began to watch a friend's newborn daughter 3 days a week , just 12 weeks old, while she worked.  (The little guy I had watched previously had moved when his father graduated) We had bought a condo thinking it was wiser than paying rent.  But the income was not meeting the expenses.  The eldest was in kindergarten. And the youngest now a toddler had a playmate as the sweet little baby grew.  

     In the 4th year of residency the marriage and our home life had become unmanageable, insane, as I have learned Al-Anon calls that state of living.  The difficulties had slowly escalated over the years.  We separated and eventually divorced as he graduated residency and began his career.  All the hard work and sacrifice I invested in his education, did not produce the returns I had hoped for our family.  I made the conscious decision if life was hell when $10 was being discussed, I knew life would still be hell when $10,000 was being discussed.  

     As I came to terms that the man I had loved for 13 years was no longer a man I could share a home with, when I had accepted that my marriage was not capable of being saved no matter how hard I tried, I shifted gears and focused on co-parenting our children.  I figured our eldest had about nine years of school left til she graduated and the youngest had her full 12 year school career ahead of her.  I visualized us living in the same city. And sharing parenting duties. 

     It took me about a full year to accept that that was not his plan.  He was not interested in being a present parent.  His priorities were elsewhere. So all of his parental duties fell on my shoulders. When our youngest started kindergarten I started taking classes at a local Univeristy.  I had a great time, being a social extravert, spending my days with other adults was such a great treat. I had been based from home for 10 years!!  I was studying psychology because the counseling I'd received throughout the separation and divorce had literally kept me sane!  One day when the kids were sick and I needed someone to watch them so I could go to class, their father refused saying he was too tired after driving twelve hours round trip to see his girlfriend.  It took me a full year to learn to stop asking him when the girls needed something, he always refused.  

   I have to be honest. This choice was actually the one that hurt my heart the most.  Not that we couldn't save the marriage. Not that he had other priorities higher than the care and needs of my children.  But after 8 years of sacrifice and supporting him during his education and caring for my two kids, he did not feel obligated to assist me when it was time for me to return to school. This was the greatest betrayal. He never missed a day of medical school or residency for 8 years or work for 3 years of his career because he had a sick child.  And he couldn't see that was because I was there for the kids.  What parent can say that?  11 years of not having to miss a day of work because of a sick child.

    As I finished a year of college while being a single parent, I knew I couldn't do the job of being the parent the girls needed while studying without more support. As I was deciding about moving closer to my family in another state, the girls' father called me to tell me he was getting married and moving to a city a 6 hour drive away.  My decision was easily made.

     Now I've been where I currently reside for two years. My original plan was to settle the girls into school and start classes in January. That plan was changed when my Step Dad had complications with cancer. And I decided we would rent a home with my parents and support them through cancer.  We had a wonderful 7 months living with Grandpa before he suddenly passed away. He had a high quality of life. The day before he passed away the family went out to brunch. The parents spent the afternoon roaming around Home Depot!  The time spent together is so precious. 

     Some people have criticized me for not taking responsibility for myself because I was not working or going to school. Some have said I have a victim mentality. These were the thoughts that made me start thinking about the journey and decisions that I have made that have brought me to today.  I disagree. I have taken responsibility for myself and for the two children I care for when another chooses to be absent.  I don't feel I am a victim. I feel I have been treated without basic consideration and respect without cooperation and compromise.  But I don't allow that any more.  I have learned how to build strong boundaries.  I don't expect their father to be present or invested in the girls lives. Because his choices have taught me not to.

    I do not regret my choice to be a stay at home mother.  It has been a sacrifice in many ways. Of studying and career building.  Of income.  My children are healthy and happy. They are loved, cared for and know they are cherished by me. They know they are a high priority in my life. And I know eventually the Creator will assist me when it is time for me to go back to school and be the parent these children need and deserve.  I don't regret my difficult marriage. It produced the precious sweet children who are the lights of my life. And I have Faith the Creator will send a partner who will love them and be present in their lives. 

    The artwork of the girls. Evidence of all my hard work and sacrifice!

Some thoughts on understanding Non-Physical Abuse

NO ABUSE OF ANY KIND, WHETHER EMOTIONAL, MENTAL OR PHYSICAL

The stress laid in the statements of Bahá'u'lláh and Άbdu'l-Bahá on love and harmony as the hallmark of marriage, and in view of Άbdu'l-Bahá's exhortation that each member of the family must uphold the rights of the others, makes it clear that violence in the family is contrary to the spirit of the Faith and a practice to be condemned. It is clear that no husband should subject his wife to abuse of any kind, whether emotional, mental or physical. Such a reprehensible action would be the very antithesis of the relationship of mutual respect and equality enjoined by the Bahá'í writings — a relationship governed by the principles of consultation and devoid of the use of any form of abuse, including force, to compel obedience to one’s will.

Letter written on behalf of the Universal House of Justice, dated April 12, 1990, to a National Spiritual Assembly, in The Local Spiritual Assembly Handbook, 3rd ed., pp. 260-261

I find it fascinating that the Universal House of Justice (the supreme International Administrative body elected by Baha'is worldwide every 5 years) lists abuse as emotional, mental or physical.  I had never thought about separating the emotional from the mental abuse.  It made me pause.  What is the difference between them?  Emotions are how you FEEL. And mental is what you THINK.  How does one abuse your emotions and your thinking processes?  In this same passage the UHJ also says says any form of abuse, including force, to compel obedience to one's will.  So for me this means a person's actions that affect how you FEEL and what you THINK to get you to do what THEY WANT.

Non-physical abuse is hard to recognize if you are not familiar or have not been trained or taken time to study current research.  Because the "weapons" abusers use are the same actions we all use in anger, losing our temper and when arguments heighten.  It's my belief many people shy away from identifying emotional and mental abuse in others because they are familiar with the behaviors themselves. But the difference between "normal" use of yelling, raising our voice, occasionally using a swear word, giving someone the silent treatment, etc..  and a relationship  of abuse is the cycles and patterns of those behaviors that create an abusive environment.

If you have a healthy relationship, these occasional expressions of anger can be expressed without changing the power structure of a relationship.  Power structure may seem to be a big concept. But really it means do both partners have equal decision making power over time?  Of course, there are times when a couple can't find agreement and in another passage from the Universal House of Justice, the wife and husband are advised to take turns deferring to each other.  

In an unhealthy relationship, the power structure is unbalanced when one partner dominates, in extreme cases this domination creates tyranny in a marriage.  (Tyranny: cruel and unfair treatment by people with power over others 3 : a rigorous condition imposed by some outside agency or force 4 : an oppressive, harsh, or unjust act : a tyrannical act). In the book Advancement of Women by Janet and Peter Khan, Baha'i scholars, share that "while the cause of marital breakdown can be many, one common cause is domination of the wife by the husband "(p.115).  

It does not take physical abuse to create an unbalanced power structure in a marriage.  A pattern of using emotional and mental manipulation can create a relationship with unbalanced decision making power with one partner dominating the other.  It's any actions that compel the other partner to do what THEY WANT over and over again.  It can be verbal, emotional, financial, neglect, damaging property, harassment, isolation, using threats, blaming and minimizing their abusive actions.

The photo is from Why Does He Do That?  Inside the minds of Angry and Controlling Men p.55

I heART Art, Part Two or Art & Activism, building peace in my life

     The artist, Ai Weiwei, is internationally known as a contemporary artist and outspoken dissident.   When I read the signage accompanying these bold colored vases, understanding that they are created by someone who is known as an outspoken dissident in China tells me a lot.  He is brave and courageous, in my opinion a Champion of Justice. To speak out in opposition to his government in China means something far greater than speaking out against our government here in the USA means for us.  While sitting at the bar counter in the Taste cafe of the Seattle Art Museum recently I talked to a lady who visited Ai Weiwei in his home.  She said he cannot leave China, cannot leave Beijing, but anyone can come visit him.  And she said it was obvious there were security cameras watching his home.

     I cannot imagine!  Having your home under surveillance.  Not being able to leave your country or the city you live in!  She also mentioned that because of the world's eyes being watchful, he is also somewhat protected.  The world would protest if he was harmed.

     I visited the Seattle Asian Art Museum for the first time on April 5th.  I am not familiar with Asian Art (being raised more actively in the Native American community than the Filipino community).  As I walked through the galleries of ceramics, paintings and objects I was somewhat lost.  I didn't have the context to understand what I was looking at. My routine when seeing a new art exhibit is to do a quick walk through and then come back to visit my favorite pieces.  I stopped and looked at a huge piece, a 17th Century/1800's hanging scroll depicting a story of Buddha. It was faded from time but the artistry was phenomenal. I am not very familiar with Buddha's life or teachings.  But it reminds me of the huge Nativity scene from the exhibit Peru: Kingdom of the Sun and Moon.  A teaching tool. Telling the story of the life of Christ.

     Ai Weiwei's colored vases are traditional vases dipped in bold colors. A symbol of our Ancient story being disguised by today's contemporary culture yet still powerfully present.  When thinking about the courage of Ai Weiwei to use his art to stand up for justice and freedom, it makes me think of Joan Miro and his opposition to the Franco dictatorship and regime that held captive his home of Spain for nearly 40 years, ending just in 1976.  When I think of Spain, I don't think of a dictatorship or tyranny and oppression.  But really it's barely 40 years since they have been free.  As an American, I take the freedom of speech and the freedom to vote for granted. I am privileged with this luxury in a world full of tyranny and oppression.

     These artists inspire me to say the hard things that need to be said.  There are women and children in our community made vulnerable by the actions and choices of unhealthy and selfish men.  I am not saying that all men are unhealthy or selfish. I am deeply grateful for the men in my life who cherish their partners and protect, not harm, their women and children.  But the women who are hurt emotionally, psychologically with or without physical violence by their intimate partners need our support and encouragement. 

     One to help them see that they are indeed living with dominance, tyranny and oppression in their homes.  Two to help aid them in their relationship, to find ways of building autonomy and freedom in their daily lives. Three to support them to leave if and when they are ready.  I have to say that it's not only men who can be unhealthy and selfish and harm their families, but they tend to be the majority in numbers and men have more power in our historically patriarchal American society.  Men who use children as tools for control.  Men who leave women without their fair share of martial or familial resources make the children more vulnerable. When you leave a women to struggle to make ends meet, you leave your children more vulnerable.

     I have a friend whose husband during the divorce lived in the family home, causing his children to live elsewhere. And when the family home was finally awarded to the mother and children they moved back in only to receive notice the mortgage hadn't been paid and the house was in foreclosure.  What was that father thinking?  I have another friend whose home was purchased with her family's inheritance she received because she has a chronic illness and cannot study or work, and in divorce proceedings the husband is asking for half of the value of the house. Leaving his children vulnerable because the mother will be more vulnerable.

     It's my experience that our community does not speak to these men. They don't show them how selfish these acts are, how harmful they are for their children or ask them to step up and be a mature and responsible father and ensure the safety and security of their children through the safety and security of the mother of their children.

     In my own path, I also gave up a home, to leave my marriage. But for me the lack of consideration and obligation was even more injurious when it was time for me to return to school.  My youngest daughter was starting kindergarten and I began to take classes part-time. When I needed help scheduling their visits with their father around my class and homework schedule, there was no cooperation.  When the kids were sick and I needed help so I could go to class.  There was no sense of reciprocity. I had helped him become a doctor. For 8 years of my life I cared for our children so he could go to school. He never missed a class or a shift at the hospital because one of his kids was sick. But when it was time for me to go to school post-divorce, there was no awareness of the debt he owed me.   To my knowledge no one has called him on this.  No one has pointed out to him the lack of consideration he has for the well-being of his daughters.

     My belief is we cannot achieve world peace if we cannot build peace in our homes, our families, and our daily lives.  If you know of a woman in the middle of divorce, divorced or parenting as a single parent, reach out to her. Encourage her. Take her out for coffee.  Or bring by a meal, so she can take a break from planning, cooking, cleaning and storing a dinner.  Pick up the kids to take them to the park. Or to the museum! (You know my passion for museums). And if you are really brave take out the father for coffee and ask him what's going on and how is he ensuring the well-being of his children. 

      Art.  Activism.  Building strong and healthy homes and communities will create more peace in the world. 

I heART Art, Part One

     I spent two days surrounded by art.  The first was at the SAM downtown and the second was my first visit to the Seattle Asian Art Museum at Volunteer Park.  Art is my passion.  My elixir of life.  When I spend time with art, the fire of my soul burns brighter.  My inner battery recharges. There is something about looking at a piece of art and looking for the message the artist is sending out. I always want to know the life of the artist, what journey did they travel.

   The Miro exhibit, the Experience of Seeing is focused on Joan Miro (pronounced like Juan),

his late works, 1963-1981.  On my first walk through of this exhibit with my daughter's 7th grade class in early March 2014, I was quite lost. The very strange looking bronze sculptures looked like junk on first glance, chuckles. His huge paintings are abstract and very simple looking.  I knew nothing about him or his career.  

     Looking over a timeline of his life, I began to get a picture of who Miro is.  Born in 1893 in Barcelona in the region of Catalonia in Spain.  Living through World War I and the taking over of his country by a tyrannical dictator, Franco in 1939.  He is a contemporary of Picasso. Knowing the little I know about classic paintings, I could immediately see how unique Miro's paintings were. On a tour with the 7th graders, I learned more about the symbols Miro uses. How a teardrop stands for woman.  There are a LOT of tear drops in his work!! Chuckles. His use of primary colors is strong in symbolism, blue representing the soul.  Today this very abstract art doesn't raise an eyebrow but I can only imagine what people thought in the early days of his career.

     In the catalog for this exhibit I read about how Miro and his peers protested against the Franco regime.  It inspired in me great admiration.  To put your life on the line to stand up against injustice when people were being arrested and killed for political opposition.  Over Spring break, during my second visit to Miro a tour with amazing docent Marilyn taught me more about the lost wax process of bronze casting.  Miro collected objects on his walks and began to build sculptures out of them.  The sculpture would be cast and then a bronze sculpture would be created.  Again teardrops are seen throughout. Yes!  He loves women. Chuckles. 

     I want to talk about two sculptures first is the Warrior King, a spoon acts as an arm or as scepter.  A battered piece of wood makes up the body.  We are asked to caption this piece in a contest to win a trip to Spain (enter by April 15, 2014 on the SAM's Facebook page). The warrior kings I know are Chief Seattle, Chief Joseph, Crazy Horse and Geronimo.  I don't know what Miro was saying with his Warrior King, but to me it reminded me of the honorable warriors who protected their people, whose stories of heroism inspire me today. To be brave and courageous, to stand up for justice and for those who cannot defend themselves.

     The second is titled Bull's Head.  Marilyn, the amazing docent, shared how scary this piece looked to her.  It looks like a Monster out of Monster's Inc. A creature hiding in the closet waiting to make us scream. A horn sticks out prominently big fangs look like they will dig deep.  Marilyn shared this piece was made in 1970 in response to Franco's order of the death of 6 political opponents.   I was born in 1973. Franco dies in 1975 freeing Spain after 36 years of being held hostage by a tyrant.  I don't know where I have been all my education, did I just not understand what the World Wars were about?  Was I too young?  Was I too sheltered by the luxury of being born in America? Were the lessons watered down so I didn't quite understand the oppression so many people lived through for decades?  1975!  Isn't this the disco party decade here in the USA?  To think Spain was in a choke hold without political freedom 40 years ago. To think how many nations today are still living without the freedom of speech, the freedom to elect their leaders.

  Miro's courage inspires me to speak up to say the hard things that need to be said today. 

Don't forget to like the SAM on Facebook and enter to win a trip to Spain by captioning one of his works.