A missing people

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Beringia is now inhabited by Eskimos or Inuit. They are quite close genetically to Asians and they are not really Amerindians. They came quite late. Notice the resemblance to, say, Japanese.

 

Once there were a mighty people. Ones who lived in the lands of inhospitable snow and ice. Many snows that several names for snow were known. A people who live nomadic. A people who were indigenous.  Known by a derogatory term that means 'dog eater'. These who depended and respected above many things the dog. The partner who lived peacefully among them.
The whites came and saw prosperity of a different mind. Furs that were once a holy provision felt with gratitude when received. Once Honor was given to the live of each creature received as sustenance. Creatures of the land and of the deep were depended on. All was used and nothing wasted. Family's lived and depended upon each other. The timber line at times a refuge.
They were dispersed. Many perished when disease was an unwelcome guest in the tundra, the arctic. The land silent. Children stripped from the mothers arms to go and learn of Christianity. Non of the faith known as LOVE but all of the religion known as conformity. Numbers once many dwindling now into less that 40,000. This almost all in Canada now. Eastern Canada. Some remain now within the arctic of the Pacific coast.
There is an Island off of the coast near Tacoma Washington that hosts a mockup of the long ago culture. Totems and relics of a life once lived by many.
I found a wonderful collection of art here..Dorthy Francis Artist.

Missing form my life a father who was one of these. A ghost of an enigma. Lost in time and space. I know of this without doubt now.

Last week the DNA test came back and indeed I am a daughter of an Inuit father. A have become the half sister of all of my siblings. Yet this was always so. The elder siblings told me so to my mothers denial. My sister who was thought to have the same father is actually my half sister. No less my sister. She knows who her father is. Many if not all of them know who the father of their flesh is. Now for me it is a confirmed mystery.

All the research is met with a vanishing people. A people of the earth who respected what had been given them through the creation, the creator of all things. My faith is the fellowship of My God and Father, My Lord and Savior. My faith is also of that lineage my maker set me along the path into being. I am half Inuit. Not Eskimo, I am not a 'dog eater'. How we would cringe if the N. word be used of a African or a J. for German. Yet a vanishing people known by few are called and known through the ignorance of causation.

I am no less a white woman, yet more of a indigenous soul. One who was here before the others. A people who were here as long, 1/4 Native American ( Cherokee)  heritage I also own. I am 1/2  Inuit and 1/4 another. 

I remember the first time I publicly acknowledged my curiosity, the probability of being less than white. I was the same person yet at church I was treated as less. Somehow as if more ignorant. Or a heathen. I see how even then my eyes were being opened to the religion less that was called by one who's name is higher. A name above all names demised by a people who think that they are the best superior. A heritage that took away the very existence of so many people. Who stole children to conversion. Believing whole-heartedly that this was 'the way'. Only it is that HE is the way. I see it now even now. 

It is HE who is the way.
It is not the thought or idea of what people may conceive as the way all of humanity ought to believe. Many religions fall into the same sin thinking it holy. Holiness is non than compassion, humility, to be in right standing before God. God is holy, he has created all peoples. Many know Him, some by another name yet it is He they are intimate with. He is truth. He is reverence for his creation. It is His people who KNOW Him by name. A name spoken in many languages, many dialects and tongs. Many years ago He lead me to believe in His Son Christ Jesus. I see people who take a demanding stance to force others to believe yet that is coherence. It is to a man to come. Come unto me he said. Of ones own will. Not that of another.
These Inuit often as with many other cultures were forced into Him. Not drawn of honey but compelled through fear of hell burning and screaming. The called the old ways evil. Perhaps many were. Perhaps it was that God himself was a guide and a witness through the elders to holiness. Fear true fear to me is separation from God. It is then that the gnashing of the teeth is known.

These people ripped of the ways of their ancestors were forced into the ways of a salvation forced upon them. It is that salvation of an offering a message of holiness, a message of relationship that pulls holiness up as a innate desire. Not a fear of reprisal.

Many people are missing lost into an enforced compliance out of a fear of God.

Would it be that the presence of God be known as a desire to draw near to the God of their understanding. A god who gave all to gin our trust. Salvation through a name that is above all names. A relationship of mutual respect and adoration.

For many years the story's my elder brother told of my paternal linage were unsure It is a hard thing to have been lied to by my Mother. It is a hard thing to be of a people who have all but vanished. 40 who live in a tiny village just above the Washington State boarder. No way to contact them. Not able yet to gain much more understanding. Yet I understand more about who I think I am. The why of the way I believe, the way I walk upon this earth. No longer an alien confused by the denial of some and the assurance of others. I am who I am and have come from a long line of some of the most tenacious people who ever walked this earth. Those who survived in the arctic. When the respect of the earth and all of the sea those things upon and within the deep was the way of truth. 

Many taboos of fear were also a torment to a people who are now little known some still live. I hope that one day I might learn more of them. One story I have heard years ago was when the Holy Spirit came to a church meeting of those who were in a relationship with God based in the Salvation of Christ Jesus. The doors closed and so the windows closed and a great wind swept through the congregation. There were so many suicides and much alcoholism in the village. After this meeting the whole of the village changed. Hope entered that land.

I am Inuit by my father who one day I might come to know his identity.

Who do you think you are? To many generations we are known by those things passed down through the flesh and the spirit. I would love to know from whence I have come.

A study in Socialism

An  economics professor at a local college made a statement that he had never  failed a single student before,
but had once failed an entire  class.
That class had insisted that Obama's socialism worked and that  no one would be poor and no one would be rich, a great equalizer.
The  professor then said, "OK, we will have an experiment in this class on  Obama's plan".
All grades would be averaged and everyone would receive  the same grade so no one would fail and no one would receive an A...
After the first test, the grades were averaged and everyone got a B.
The students who studied hard were upset and the students who studied  little were happy.

As the second test rolled around, the students who  studied little had studied even less and the ones who studied hard decided  they wanted a free ride too so they studied little.

The second test  average was a D!

No one was happy.

When the 3rd test rolled  around, the average was an F..

The scores never increased as  bickering, blame and name-calling all resulted in hard feelings and no one  would study for the benefit of anyone else.

All failed, to their great  surprise, and the professor told them that socialism would also ultimately  fail because when the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great but  when government takes all the reward away, no one will try or want to  succeed.

Could not be any simpler than that.

Remember, there is a mid-term election in  2010!

History forgotten is lost to generations thereafter

Words be few and days have been many from the last visit here.
It is that I have lost the passion in my blogging.
From plagiarism this voice of mine in absence pulls me away.
Where others have made income off of it without even the grace of simple acknowledgment. I, I must let go of it as I count it a gift to others. I just feel a struggle over the issue. Letting go of it over and over.
Great efforts taken to share the experience, strength and hope.
Bringing seeds and ideas of post to others. That the mutual shared hearts of the many so tied together.

My heart here was to share the whole of who I am freely.

Spirit, soul and body.

From this form of muscle bone and sinew I serve. By presenting tasks and that shared knowledge I found joy.
A way of giving back to those segments of society that effort to attain the experience at homemaking and the skill sets I have mastered. Not wanting to make this a place of funding or the luker. This by choice alone. Just free paying life forward. For in my days I have had VERY few mentors who would teach me. Those years teaching myself were efforts of great study and trial and error.
A philosophy of mine is that history repeats itself both positive and negative. That history forgotten is lost to the generations thereafter. So I in this blog hoped in part to conserve those skills of the home, the arts, parenting, economics, gardening, tending of all things living. Gleaning and gaining the knowledge of so many of you who also have the passion to learn and to educate.
In deed my being is worn of the last two months with all the illness, interventions for the kids and the day in day out efforts to run the estate. A blessed life yes, to whom much is given much is required.

Within the soul of this woman a writer lies waiting to open my mind at risk of rejection. Once my voice was much less fettered. Now it has grown weak and wherry. I visit and fill my soul with the minds of many who yet share voice. So many things that offer a kinship of sorts. Reflections gained through the gain that only experience, understanding, knowledge finally culminating in wisdom pure and shared with a heart filtered through kindness. This was my heart to find voice here in this my " life uncommon". Finding my place caring too much of religion or prejudice judgments that fog peace leaving strife in it's wake. Above all things strife is a repulsion to me. To find voice within this soul of mine hushed at the avoidance of strife. Hushed that perhaps those who row the still waters might avoid a splash if a rock the boat.
Indeed also here with the fullness of my mind given health issues with children, spouse and self. Appointment after appointment that sets me so behinds here at home.

It is my spirit that can only visit hear at times. It is welcome, yet singularly, without the whole of me. Mornings spent embracing the Manuel of my life I long to make a safe place here. Where those souls who so wounded by hypocrisy religion and rejection can come and gain kindness to their day. Not pulled away through false condemnations that some "Christian" blogs can bring often without intent. So many many wonderful blogs of those who believe are simply an affront to those who are hurting and driven away through life and false expectations of others.
Yet too the work I am doing with the EMDR that you can read about here is very taxing yet so very rewarding.

I long once again to be true faced in the whole of me here. Without fear, bold tenacious vivacious full of life once again. Alas I am yet hushed.