Hiking, Planting and My Dad

meIt’s not often I write about my dad or talk about my relationship with him openly. It is in fact a very spiritual relationship between me and him. My connection to him has always been very significant at many points in my life. I look to him in the pages of his Bible and in memories. At certain times, he stands out very strong in my thoughts and especially during spring planting time. Then there are those moments where my life takes a turn and I’m once again trying to make sense of it all. Those moments where I’m questioning my authenticity and my purpose. The self deprecation of life. Continue reading

Advertisements

This Little House on Walpi

 

My memories of this house run as deep as my roots because they are one in the same. I walk through museums, “vintage” art galleries, antique shops and southwestern curios.  I like to hear the conversations of people as they stare at the depictions of Walpi. The most famous picture of Walpi is the one of the village facing West, with the sun shining on the little houses at the entrance. They say that it goes back to 900 C.E. Continue reading

In a Fingernail

When I was 9 years old, my uncle Kerry paid me in cheeseburgers to clean this traditional medicine used in Native American ceremonies. After an hour of picking the small bits of fur with my fingernails, I started to complain about it getting under my fingernails. My uncle took my little hand, held it up to my face and pointed to the green caked fingernail. “This medicine can take you anywhere your heart desires. Even all over the world – anywhere! If you really want it.”, he exclaimed. Continue reading