Incompetently Culpable

Striving, Photo by BradensEye featuring Autry Museum of the American West

Giving light to outrage is essential. Putrid treatment goes unpunished more than I can comprehend. Sporadically my guilt is all-consuming. A feature on the visual level of throngs of angels receiving a cruel beating from devilish demons thirsty for ownership of effects that have never even made sense to me for a person to possess. Take any land, for instance. Yeah, the earthen ground beneath our average feet suddenly became a commodity one day in a very distant past. People are dead because of this! Some humans had (and tons retain) some cockamamie notion that they ought to stow their futures on one single spot that they wished no one else to ever stake a claim. So many have perished over the idea that anyone could or should control a plot of nature. It often boils my innards that we’re such an incompetently culpable race.

And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea ~Eugene Field, Wynken, Blynken, and Nod

Chronicles of cooperation coil as criminal corkscrewing to bending rainbow corridors of luster. I aim to be the candle instead of the arsonist. Applauding one’s country doesn’t always whoosh on wings of ease. President Joe Biden’s Indigenous Peoples’ Day Proclamation is a step in a series of way overdue treads to face a history of trampling. All of the media rumblings heightened this week got another sequence of wiggles writhing under my skin. With this wake of giving vibrant generations, whose skin just happens to be unique to mine, a nod of national recognition I felt shocked that it wasn’t a totally collective cheer. Why aren’t the descendants of ancestors who initiated a humbling reverent love of our Mother afforded the same promise as the rest of us Americans? This is a dark tangent I decided I wanted in writing to rope a few more minds into beyond my own diary.

I really miss my friend Misty Upham. I’m lucky that I’ve met such a diversity of persons that I connect with as additional sisters and brothers. I was born ultra curious plus raised to be open to that (odd to me) term we refer to regularly nowadays as ‘the other’. Misty was like a little sister during my 2008 through 2012 years. We met via mutual close friends in the Hollywood community. She’d already notched indie infamy for her role in the film Frozen River. We shared couches, Sundance bunking and bashing the town…