I hope you all enjoy the fruits of my efforts. Feel free to ask and comment below!
Tell me what would be on your bucket list and where you would go.
It’s not everyday that something extraordinary happens like a flash, so quick you almost don’t believe it. It’s not even in every life time that you can strike gold, but my gold mines are starting to tally and i’m worried i’m running out whatever the hell luck i’m living on — because i keep living these dreams i never thought could be possible. And i am beholden…. shy of bound, to whatever man makes the god damn rules in this place.
In an afternoon, i was moved. I was changed in some profound and sagacious way that i can’t quite put my finger on what the fuck happened to me in those moments.
My mind a little deeper and much richer than it was last week.
I wanted to write this post the other night but my website is as temperamental as a she-bear. Therefore, tonight is the night now that i have a moment that is all mine. After all — they say that words mean more at night and will send you dreaming.
A few weeks ago an event popped into a feed and a plan was made. Simple as that. No great sign or path.
I’d tried to talk myself out of going just because it was effort and i don’t like interacting with people, but this was a bucket list item — something i’d only dreamed of since i was still young enough to believe in happy endings. And Jack, the golden boy that is — wouldn’t let me back out.
The event was a meet/greet/book signing with Crazy Horse’ Elder, and the author of the families book — Bill Matson. I’ve never attended anything of this kind before, i always thought it was somewhat awkward and not my scene. I figured it was mostly just something that was done in movies or for weird die hard fans like…twilight geeks etc.
Having said that — i was wrong.
I reckon i was just waiting for the right time and it found me, in the dying summer of New England 2019. What are the odds.
I’ve always been very aware that indigenous people in films, books, media and history were “whitewashed” and “europeanised.” Which is a damn shame and unnecessary.
Rarely have they been given the chance to openly portray their truth or even speak it. And that was why i desperately wanted to hear the sore and exposed truth of their culture. Thats what he gave to me, the difference between truth and assumptions. A lot of what is thought to be fact — is an assumption about the Red Nation and many other parts of life. It was beautiful and meaningful to hear it from him — his truths, his stories, all about his blood-tree … rather than from a book that has rolled through editors where stories were changed and translations crapped over like yesterdays newspaper.
So i’m very very excited to read the book of their family.
I’m excited to read Matson’s words and learn more about the true Crazy Horse and their lives since.
The meeting was raw. It was strong. Nerve wracking. But utterly and finally, it was magnificent. Even though the audience members made me kinda embarrassed to be white due to their weird inane questions and stereotypical thought processes. They asked about finding “medicine men on facebook,” were surprised “Indians were so nice” and i could honestly go on. But i choose to remember the experience in a way Bearheart taught me to. Find the positive and learn the lesson.
I realise i haven’t talked about it in too much depth but i fear it would ruin my experience for me, just like pulling your camera out in a beautiful moment and living through the lens instead of being truly present.
So this is all i’ve leave you with.
Speak truth, don’t assume and tell the story how it happened without modern embellishments (fiction writers excluded).
Where your washing is dry before it ever gets put on the line.
And to create this type of fencing because it’s magnificent.
To have a rooster with a magnificent head of hair.
For this to be my office every day. Old wagon, long horns, happy horses, psychotic chickens, a handsome husband, couple of cats and dogs running around. Just being grateful to be alive and to have blood pumping through my veins.
(NOT MY IMAGE) A big beautiful Jutland draft horse, so i wont be the only Danish soul on the ranch.
(NOT MY IMAGE) A nice comfy old truck with a spare pair of boots under the bench seat.
Its an exciting day today.
My new camera will be arriving soon — i’ve been waiting for it all day.
I’m so ridiculously excited.
I recently wrote about my current camera being close to dying, you can read my blog post here.
It feels like a new start, something i’m never adverse to. I’ve felt very “held back” by my old camera because it just couldn’t do what i wanted it to do anymore and i’ve grown away from it — but it truly has served me well over the last 6 to 7 years.
I will still use it but new camera will be the go – to.
I decided to become a Nikon user. That doesn’t mean i don’t love my canon camera — because i most definitely love working with canon, however, after all these years i wanted to get my hands on a decent Nikon. I’d used my Farfar’s camera on my last trip to Denmark and i fell in love. I can’t entirely describe it. I remember i’d discussed cameras with him and he was insistent that Nikon was the way forward due to the sharpness and detail whereas i was insistent that canon was just as good. Sometimes i like to argue even though i actually don’t entirely know what i’m talking about — it doesn’t help that Farfar and i are both stubborn as well-fed mules.
Now a few years on from said conversation i’m officially ready to admit that he was probably hitting the nail right on the head. So i bought a Nikon.
I finally succeeded in knitting a jumper successfully !
Actually semi-successfully. Its wearable, warm and comfy, not to mention the absolute best colour yarn can be. However it does look like its been dragged through hell and back — but at least it has as much character as i do.