Tag: children

Mitigating my Lack of a Tribe

by 8hummingbirdway

I’ve written a bit about my childhood and about imbalance in my life.

I’ve shared my belief that living in alignment with the earth, the natural cycles and ancient ways is beneficial for humans. It’s my experience and understanding that these ways that I have come to identify as “tribal” provide guidance, wisdom, and a sense of self that is not generally available in our current culture of technology and disconnection.

During my life I learned and came in contact with things that have been helpful to me. These areas of knowledge, wisdom and engagement – as well as personal practices, have helped me to know myself and to be my best self. Some of these pathways have been significant in my life and have brought me to increased balance and wellbeing. They are the ground I stand on.

Gardening. I was fortunate to have learned a bit about gardening from a high school boyfriend. It stuck with me, this connection to the land and to providing for myself. I love spending time in the garden – the smell of the earth, the planting of the seed. It took me years and years to become a reliable weeder and to be committed to harvest of the bounty. My husband is also an avid gardener. In the Fall, he collects seeds from flowers and vegetables for the next year. In winter we plan for the next season, take stock of seeds, and order what we need. As well as providing food and beauty, gardening connects me to the earth and the seasons, and brings me outside to the sun and wind. This is a lovely element and foundation in my life.

Eating well. Gardening led me to eating healthy food. In college I became a vegetarian. I got involved in food cooperatives a bit later, and experimented with different variations in cooking and eating. Over time, I came to feel that strict dietary rules were not for me, but I still lean toward eating plenty of vegetables, some locally raised meat, and awareness of what foods are in season. I tend to eat more raw vegetables and salads in summer and more cooked food in the cold part of the year. My biggest challenge with eating has always been sugar. I will save my diatribe on sugar for another day for those who are interested.

Learning. I’ve had a longtime interest in “the Nature of Reality,” as I call it. I loved learning about the physics experiments that show the behavior of electrons are impacted by our expectations! I know a little about sacred geometry. I love math too (thanks to my dad, an actuary).

I do my best to stay open-minded. I read, and I study topics that interest me. I discuss ideas with my oldest daughter and my husband and with friends.

Engaging with children. If my sister had been able to care for her child, I might never have been a mom. If not, my life would have been seriously deficient. I am not saying this is true for others – but I personally identify so much as a mother. My life is exponentially richer for having my 3 children. And engaging with other children too. They have so many questions and ideas! And they are so loving and open. They also need guidance – and to be heard.

Our home became that place where other kids went to play and get some snacks and green vegetables. One neighbor could NOT get enough broccoli and another one snuck cans of tuna from my pantry – both raised on pizza delivery. Children also came for the safe space, and sometimes returned in part for the friendly, steady mom with a listening ear – and some firm rules about respect. Teenagers too.

Later, in NY, I drove a school bus for several years, which was challenging, but I loved the kids. And quite a few of them needed a listening ear too.

I will say that whether one has children or not, children (and elders and disabled people) are part of humanity. For some it’s animals that draw our attention. We all benefit from being needed. These others help us to connect genuinely and also to find our best and most generous + loving selves. I’m not saying everyone should be a parent. It’s a massive commitment and challenge from birth to …my oldest is 43 and I do worry about her sometimes. I don’t let it come between us, but I walk with an awareness of the needs and wellbeing of all my children (and other humans), and sometimes that is tough – as well as being a gift.

Meditation. I practiced meditation off + on. Long-term, it helped me live more in my heart than my head. It helped me to let go of the worry and stress. Most of all, it taught me to be present, which has been a significant gift. Being present meant no more constant brain chatter (worry, analyzing, etc.), being more aware of my surroundings, knowing how I feel, being present for my children and others. At this point in time I rarely meditate, although I do some breathing exercises sometimes and that is similar in result. Yoga is also a good choice. Or walking/hiking – especially in the woods. [Also – moving extends and increases longevity.]

Self-sufficiency (less now than in the past). About 25 years ago I moved from a lovely small city in CT where I had largely raised my children – to the Northern Catskills. I had this idea I could homestead – raise my own food, live off the grid, continue to homeschool my kids. My mom was living with us then and I was still married to my first husband, a musician who travelled a lot. I learned that one person cannot homestead – especially alone, in my 40s, short on finances, with a bunch of responsibilities, including trying to build a home on 5 acres (living in a 1972 “manufactured home” with a composting toilet). But I had a huge garden and canned some food, economized with homemade bread + soups/stews. I had chickens for eggs and meat, [and 2 pigs one year), and learned how to butcher chickens. (Sorry you animal lovers, but it has to be done if you are eating meat. I’m one of those who would rather face it myself. I know the animals are raised with love and killed humanely. One day I’d be singing to the chickens and the next day one would be in the pot and a few in the freezer.) We also heated with wood; we still enjoy stacking it, but we stopped cutting it ourselves.

The house did get built, and we helped. New wood stove. Along with a septic system!

Later my 2nd husband left his village home and was raising bees and increasing the presence of flowers, fruit trees and greenspace on the property. We also installed a hand pump on our well for emergency water. More recently we moved to less than a half acre of level ground in a nearby village. There’s a hike nearby and we can walk 1/2 mile for music, library, post office, community, decent food. We had a wood stove installed in the Fall. Bees and chickens are coming this Spring!

Living with Nature. Moving to the hills was one of my best choices. It probably wasn’t the best choice for my marriage at the time (increased distance from NYC …with Mom), but it was definitely good for my soul. Peace, stars in the dark nights, shoveling snow – the only sound a hawk or coyote, the big garden fruit trees/bushes, the woods, the small pond we cooled off in. I am deeply glad I got to have that time and become a country woman. (Country kids too!)

Full moon circles with other women. We share, we listen, we sing, we take action for ourselves or others with simple “rituals”, (such as creative artwork, a healing prayer, a gratitude dance), and then we feast. The connection in this group formed a tribe of sorts. I participated in and led these groups for over 30 years until Covid split up the most recent group. Sometimes I think of returning to it.

Shamanic studies and practices. Later in life, my shamanic studies and work have increased my understanding of the nature of reality, which is now significantly more expansive. Probably the most important aspects of this to me have been 1) the help I have been able to offer others and provide to others and 2) the ancestor work I’ve done, which has helped me to understand and honor my predecessors on this earth.

I am no authority on life …and yet I have learned to look to my soul for the interpretation of spiritual guidance. This is my authority – Spirit/God/Source and the wisdom I inherently possess. Yes I pay my taxes and put on my seatbelt, but beyond that I have come to trust myself to discern what is right for me.

We all possess this wisdom. We simply have to learn to exercise it …and trust it.

Addendum: My older daughter recently told me that her 24 year old son (my grandson) said to her that he has read several times recently that you don’t grow up until you have children. I find that true in my case. Providing for others – those you must put first – was a transformational experience.

I’m also delighted to imagine that perhaps there will be great-grandchildren in my future!

Private sessions are offered in person and remotely by phone or video conference. Contact Annie to book a session, host a workshop, for sliding scale rates or to discuss barter arrangements.

Potato Field, Allies, and “Thunder”

by 8hummingbirdway

The Africa Posts

We returned to the van and drove on the central road to park by a large potato field on a hill. Near the van, more land was being tilled by some older boys of the refugee camp. It was clearly very hard going.

This camp had been in existance at least long enough to grow a crop of potatoes. Bienve had told us that an area of potato plants (out of sight, over the hill) had been dug up and taken recently. He said he did not blame the perpetrators; he knew that hunger drove them. However, it was a loss for the community.

The caring presence of Bienve can be seen here, in a video of displaced persons from one of the camps in Goma, working in the potato fields, creating agribusiness.

Beinve and my son walked up the hill to see the gardens beyond, and I stood by the working boys. The photographer who had been traveling with us leaned on the van, along with 2 men who had been child soldiers (1 was the driver). There was a steady trickle of children walking along the road and I wondered where they were going to and from. I smiled and said “bonjour,” and I soon had another group surrounding me. I felt a little closed in, and this group felt different than the walking group from earlier. I think it was my difference, my skin color, that attracted them for the most part. I heard the word Mzungu (meaning white person) a few times. There were no very young children, and it seemed like an elementary school crowd. I wonder now, whether there was some sort of informal schooling set up as well as the one we visited this morning. These children had no uniform, but I sensed they had purpose. Several said “money,” which I ignored, as I had been advised.

I reached out in my mind for some French words that I could say and after some faltering attempts I arrived at the phrase “Tout les enfants sont bon,” which means “All children are good.” The children agreed with n heads nodding. There was warmth and smiles. It may have been that I was a bit tired or depleted; it may have been that these children had less need. I learned that the level of need is much greater if one is a very recent refugee.

After maybe 10 minutes, a man came along to shoo away the children. I thought it was the photographer; he had a similar build. I didn’t like the fact that he sent them off unceremoniously, but I was in a mode of acceptance about choices made around me while I was in another culture in another part of the world.

I stepped to the other side of the road to talk with the man, who seemed to have something to say. There was some back and forth in English and French and after a few minutes he started asking me for money. I said no; I said I don’t have any, but why would he believe that? (My son was handling funds; the exchange rates were a bit confusing for me.) He persisted, and I glanced over to the van where my 3 friends were still leaning. I realized this wasn’t the photographer I was talking to. I left him and walked over to join them, leaning on the van until our next move.

I felt very comfortable with these men from Remember Youth for Change. https://www.facebook.com/rememberyouthforchange

The photographer was clearly a fan of mine. I had noticed him photographing me at various times. I had taken to smiling and pointing to my son as the main event – which he definitely was. I felt he (the photographer) was a person who saw value in my warmth, which I tend to offer easily. My son is the one, however, who cares enough to create change and to make sure the corporate funds he controls are used well – and expends a great deal of energy understanding what is needed in various parts of the world.

The 2 men who had experienced being child soldiers also have my heart, especially the one who was the driver. I will return to him another time.

At one point during this visit I heard thunder. I believe it was when we were standing by the potato field. I did not find out more until we returned to the US; at the time, it was kept from me that this sound was actually artillery fire. I never felt unsafe when I was in Goma or the surrounding area, but later it was explained to me that all was not as I experienced. I know no more about this and it is not my area of interest. Except that the occupants of the refugee camp have had to contend with this instability along with all of their loss.

Would you like to know more about Goma’s nonprofit Remember Youth for Change? https://www.facebook.com/rememberyouthforchange

Visiting homes and walking in the refugee camp

by 8hummingbirdway

The Africa Posts

We drove deep into the camp, perhaps another half mile, parked, got out, and started to walk around the “homes.”

“UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency, provides emergency protection and assistance to keep them safe, including shelter, access to clean water, food, medical care and help to reunite families.” Based on my limited experience, the refugees you will see in the photos of this website have had showers, new clothing and more food than the people I met. https://www.unrefugees.org/refugee-facts/?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQiAoeGuBhCBARIsAGfKY7xSF1MSr_Vv3dR7Hap0A6stsKZcbOWj-jw958SWNJdWD0zMDGeL5H8aAnmwEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds

I am glad to hear about the clean water, food and medical care – and the reuniting of families. I didn’t see any of that, although I did use the sanitary facilities, visited some individual shelters and one larger structure designated as a church.

The tiny homes, about 5′ X 5′, were the main substance of the camp. We entered 3 families’ homes on this day. Although the website shows homes with thatched roofs, these homes were all wrapped in white plastic (like Tyvek) – sides and ceiling – with a door cut out, and the same plastic covered the home. There were white plastic room dividers inside, separating the sleeping area, with one or two mats, from the empty rest of the shelter. That’s it. There were no clothes in evidence aside from what the people are wearing. In one home I saw a small bowl of stems with leaves, but most of these shelters were completely empty aside from the sleeping mats in the sleeping room, 1-2″ high. Some of these mats had frames of some sort, and some seemed to be a pile of fabric.

We walked through the maze of these small cube homes. They stretched on and on. The ground in much of Goma, and in this refugee camp, was made of lava from a volcanic eruption in May 2021. The rocks and dust from the residue of that eruption was not easy to walk on. As an older person, I had to watch every step. The ground was hard and uneven; I could perceive the flow from 3 years ago.

Bienve, director of Remember Youth For Change https://www.facebook.com/rememberyouthforchange guided us left and right; he had secured permission for us to enter 3 homes. The first 2 were simple 2 room units and one had the bowl of stems + leaves I mentioned. The third home was the same size as all the others, but had been divided into 3 rooms. The residents here were a very pregnant very slim woman and her 4 or 5 small children. It was noted that there would soon be an additional resident. I tried to talk to the woman, but she was not responsive. (My French is not great and I don’t know her familiarity with French.) She seemed overwhelmed. I slipped my simple wooden beaded bracelet from my left arm onto her right one and there was an instant of silence. It wasn’t something I thought out, just an “instinctual” act, although I have thought of it many times since. I hope there were trades she could make using my simple gift. Perhaps this is unrealistic. I have no idea of the culture of the camp. What has value (each bead?).

After the visits, we continued on. At one point my son, a soccer player, came across a few boys with an almost unrecognizable brown soccer ball. He gestured to engage with them/challenge them, and the group of 4 or 5 moved in an animated way across the rough lava ground for several minutes.

As for me, I have always been a lover of children. And there was no shortage of children – everywhere! I offered my smile. And the children responded. They recognized my genuine smile and allowed themselves to be drawn to me. Smiles, laughter, openheartedness. There was talk – mostly me saying “Je ne comprends pas,” (I don’t understand) but sometimes I would come up with a word “hand,” “foot,” “friend,” “amour.” I wish I had thought of “song.” I would have loved a song, just from the children. I did say my name occasionally and asked theirs which I didn’t retain at all. After a few more minutes of walking along, I had a large group of children around me touching me, 2-3 holding each hand/arm. For me, this was a delight beyond all others. They read my heart, returned my smile, and I laughed with them and was even more careful with my steps on the uneven ground.

My son and Bienve were maybe 30 ft ahead and they stopped every few minutes. I would do my best to catch up. A couple times I lost sight of them, but then I saw a flash of my son’s shirt down the row between some shelters, and turned that way.

Most of the women we passed smiled at me now, where there faces had been empty when we drove into the camp. I became more comfortable and said a timid and warm “Bonjour” to each woman we passed.

This was the highest joy of my experience in Africa. Children surrounding me with open hearts. The open warm smiles of mothers in loss. A meeting and connection of humanity, of laughter and smiles – and simple joy and fullness for me.

These are the connections one can make: a soccer challenge, smiles, the gift of a bracelet. (It was perhaps a help that we wouldn’t have been able to communicate with language.) These gifts come from an openness on both sides to engage as humans. There is giving and receiving on both sides and true connection results, even if only for an instant.

When I say this was “the trip of a lifetime,” – it is these moments I return to.

My son had said he came on the journey this year with a specific hope to reconnect to his inspiration. The nonprofit work for him had lost something. I felt it was the human connection. He was very involved in the assessment of the funded work, the local organization and local leaders who had secured help and funding, as well as discussion future plans. On this day – having engaged with a soccer ball and several youths, he decided that he would purchase 2 soccer balls that evening and bring them to our outing the next day at the larger refugee camp outside of Goma. (His first connection to Africa was through bringing soccer to a remote village in Uganda.)

Just before we left, Bienve brought a woman over to the vehicle who, he said, would give away some of my gifts, more to the pregnant mother, and some to others. I had a pair of glasses (I had more at home) some scarves, a turquiose stone, some earrings, a feather, some hair clips, I can’t recall what else – and he allowed me to give them to her and save the rest for tomorrow’s refugee camp.

Deep thanks to my friend who said, when she heard I was going to Africa, “What gifts will you bring?”

One last thought. Although I did not feel a personal connection with the pregnant woman, I have thought of her often. I hope that the child was planted in her womb by her mate, who she is without, at least for now. Perhaps forever.

I know there will be additional burden with the coming of this child. I hope there is some blessing for her as well.

My son says there is nothing I can do for her specifically, that I can donate to Remember Youth for Change https://www.facebook.com/rememberyouthforchange or to his (my son’s) organization that helps so many.

But I am more of a one to one person. I keep thinking of a personal sponsoring for this woman and for one other person I met in Congo.

My son would say that I would risk unwise use of any funds provided, and I know this is true.

There is more to tell of this visit.

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