Fellowship of the Blog 2 - The Extended Edition

As I have mentioned before (See Fellowship of the Blog), I am a big fan of the read around activity because we are interacting with each other as a community of learners. Not only are we interacting, but we are seeing different perspectives of the content we have been studying all semester. For me, this read around has given me brand new outlooks on topics I have a tremendous level of interest in.

I have always been captivated by the idea of transcendence. A basic desire we have as humans is to feel like there is something more than our existence here. This doesn’t have to be anything huge. I get this feeling when I listen to great music or watch a film that truly moves me. We are taken someplace else by the things we love. There are other forms of transcendence as well. Prayer, dance, alcohol, and drugs are all vehicles that can take a person beyond the ordinary routines of life. So when I came across Amanda’s post about sweat lodges, I was immediately hooked. I learned that these lodges are used for many ceremonial and spiritual reasons. But, what struck me was the unknown. What happens in a sweat lodge? I don’t know but I definitely want to find out some day.

With transcendence and the unknown on my mind, I stumbled across Michelle’s post regarding dreams. Jackpot! Dreams have always intrigued me because they are such an unbelievable phenomenon. We are sleeping but our subconscious is still at work. Michelle brought up some interesting points about dreams being an outlet for our repressed thoughts and impulses. I found this to be a profound point because dreams are truly the inner workings of our mind venting when it thinks we aren’t aware. Another great thing to come from this post was that it made me think of the song, “In Dreams,” by Roy Orbison.

With Roy Orbison on the brain, I came across Cassy’s blog regarding Joy Harjo, land, and memory. Cassy brought up many great points in her post. But, one that stood out to me was the quote she cited from Joy Harjo’s introduction. It reads, “The poet cannot be separated from place.” This is beautiful statement because I know exactly what Harjo means. In my comment, I talked about how I returned to my high school recently and all of the emotions came back to me as I walked into the building. Even though I have been separated in time from that place, I have not been separated emotionally once I am on that piece of land.

Wampum Belts & Visual Memories

I have been fascinated by Wampum belts ever since they were first exposed to me during class. I just love how symbols and patterns are used to tell a story or display an emotion. It is hard enough to convey these things through words and I find it remarkable that people can create something as meaningful as a Wampum belt.

I did some research because I was very curious as to how these belts are made. I found a section on HowToMakeStuff.com that briefly explains how to obtain the materials and weave them together to form a Wampum belt. I found out that shells are used to create the beads seen on most belts. But, the line that really struck me was that each individual shell represents a single memory. I found this very interesting because we have very different methods of holding on to memories today. This blog is a perfect example. Here I am, writing my thoughts about Wampum belts so that I can remember them later on. If I were so inclined, I could create a belt that would symbolize my discovery and fascination with Wampum belts. A Wampum belt about Wampum belts, so to speak.

Even though we now have more modern ways of preserving memories, one thing hasn’t changed since the Wampum belt. Our forms of memory preservation are still largely based in the visual realm. We remember best when we can see something. We have photos, videos, movie stubs, and Hallmark cards, to name a few. Sure, written memories are still, and always will be, an integral part of our lives. But, the memories that stand out will always be the ones you captured visually.

A World Without Borders: My Experience at a Serj Tankian Concert

As you continue reading, you may think this post has nothing to do with our class content. I swear to you, it does.

Last summer, I attended a Serj Tankian concert on the North side of Chicago. Tankian is the lead singer of the rock group, System of a Down, and the concert I attended was the first show of his solo career. I will skim over the actual concert itself by saying that it rocked, and get to the part of the night that affected me emotionally and intellectually.

Tankian had just finished the last song of his set and walked off stage. This is the part of the concert where the audience becomes unified and chants for an encore. If you have been to a concert then you know the feeling. There’s nothing quite like the sensation of jumping and chanting with hundreds of people in unison who all want the same goal. Our cries were heard as Tankian walked back on stage minutes later and grabbed the microphone. A hush came over the crowd as Serj began to speak and set up his encore song. He started telling us how he performed the song in front of thousands of brave troops in Afghanistan and that he disagreed with the policies of President George W. Bush.

If you have been to a concert where the artist has mentioned Bush’s name, then you know the reaction that follows. The crowd erupted with boo’s and middle fingers as Serj nodded along in agreement. But then a weird thing happened. This is something I have never experienced firsthand before and it has etched itself into my memory in the “I will never forget this moment” category. After we (the crowd) voiced our displeasure for our leader, the chant of “U-S-A!” slowly began to percolate from the back of the balcony. The chant moved from back to front until everyone, myself included, was passionately emphasizing each letter with a fist pump in the air.

Then, Serj said something that brought tears to my eyes.

He stopped us mid-chant and said,

“I love my country, I love my country. But I am not a citizen of the U.S.A. I am a citizen of the world. I don’t believe in fucking borders. I don’t believe in Nationalism. I believe in unity and peace.”

For a moment, everyone in the crowd was silent. I had never, not once in my life, imagined a world without borders. The moment of silence hovering over the crowd signaled that I wasn’t alone. However, the silence was brief as the crowd started cheering once again as Serj Tankian played his final song of the night. I was in tears by the end of the song and, to this day, I can’t find an explanation why.

We are all citizens of the world, but sometimes we forget. For me, this moment opened my eyes to the tunnel vision I was living with and I feel fortunate to have this memory. That being said, this memory remained under the surface until one of the class presentations last week. In this presentation, the topic came up of North America being borderless until the colonists arrived. After I heard this, my memory of the Serj Tankian concert came rushing back and I was able to make a connection to this class. It seems to me like a world without borders might be a more peaceful one. We would all be united under one flag. I am not so naïve to believe a world like this would solve every problem. Even Native Americans fought among themselves in borderless North America. But, if we think of ourselves and others in terms of a world without borders, then just maybe we would treat each other better.

The Prodigal Blogger Returns (a.k.a. The Truth About Stories)

Since I’ve been reading Thomas King’s The Truth About Stories, there has been one particular line that has stayed with me. I have literally lost sleep thinking about this. The line is on page 98 where King talks about how many stories were lost when the libraries of Tenochtitlan and Alexandria were burned. He states, “Though it doesn’t take a disaster to destroy literature. If we stopped telling the stories and reading the books, we would discover that neglect is as powerful an agent as war and fire.” I found this to be a truly profound statement because King is passing on many stories within this very book. He ends each section telling us that we have heard the stories. Now it is our turn to pass them on. As a future teacher, I feel a great sense of responsibility to pass these stories on. I know I have talked about this in other posts, but growing up, I feel like I was screwed out of learning about American Indian culture and the struggles they have been faced with simply because my teachers never spent much time on the topic. The reasoning for this may have simply been caused by time constraints or lack of relevance in the curriculum. But it is also possible that the stories were neglected and therefore never passed on to another generation.

My goal is to never neglect what I have learned this semester and to pass these stories on to future generations so they can continue to resonate with people and live on. This is what I am trying to accomplish with my final project. I have loved the poetry from Trudell and Harjo we have read this semester and I am attempting to write a week-long poetry unit geared for a junior or senior high school class. My hope is that I can actually use the lessons I create in my classroom one day so that my students can become aware of the great things being done in the American Indian community, just as I have.