Black words, Black Sky
Makade ikidowin, Makade giizhig
Suffering is the root of wisdom. This is the comforting lie that has prevaded my people for so very long. It is through suffering, one gains the tools to become knowledgeable, and thus powerful. I no longer believe this.
I have seen suffering. I have been hungry, I have been hit, I have been raped, I have been destroyed from within and rebuilt in the fires of fury and desire. My mind has been warped beyond what is reasonable for a human to recover from, and yet I persist. I am not powerful for this, but weak.
The spiritual world is one I am very familiar with. I have seen the things which make up the world, the mechanics of the afterlife, and with no guidance I have walked that so very dark path beyond.
Despite these things that I have seen and done, for I have walked with the bears in my dreams, flown with the eagles, and swam with the water panthers in my life, I find I am weak.
My house is a mess. My home life is unstable. My daughter spends more time with my grandparents than me. I can barely show up for work. My eyes are dead. I abuse substances. A thousand times I have meant to write. A thousand times I have failed. It is only through trying that any progress is made in anything, from the smallest of first steps to the largest leaps of one’s life.
Many things have changed in my life since I first picked up this tool by which I write, since my first poorly formatted thoughts upon the white screen before me.
My faith wavers each day in all of the things which hold the very fabric of my world together. I have written of my own lodge I wished to see burn brightly, but I no longer believe there is a new way of doing things. The old ways don’t work, I have seen that with my own eyes, and my own way is not the way forward for my people.
In fact, I have come to find that I no longer desire to lead my people at all. It is a task far better suited to someone more visionary than myself. We have experts and good, strong men and women, and they will lead the people into the future.
I will not. I have found that it is too much for me. I am young, yet people can see exactly how many years have stacked up in my head.
I will die early, lost between two worlds.
At least I will be here to tell those who will listen, who will read, what I have seen and done.
Perhaps suffering does allow one to see beyond, but it is not a power that will help you in life. The world we live in does not allow for seers and shamans no more. It will not help you gain promotion, gain insight in your own life, nor will it help you raise others up.
The good I do is because of what strength I have left, not what strength I have been given.
What an introduction to my life’s journey, but at least it is an honest one.