A little crow

Come in come in, I wish to share a milestone. I've got a couple burgers, I can cut them up and we can all have a nibble. Recently a strange thing happened, and it makes me happy.

The unfortunate part of this story involves a small tragedy. The loss of a pet. My Moon's parents had a cat, and they had to put her down for health reasons.

Now no one told The Little Bird what happened. They were still kind of dealing with it themselves, and as such didn't want the Bird asking questions as 3 year olds are wont to do.

Now I'm talking to My Moon on the phone, and she's in the car, I know bad, but I can hear The Little Bird talking up a storm and she said something about someone cutting up Sadie. (That's the name of the cat that had to be put down.)

So I ask My Moon, "What she say?"

"Oh well, she said she had a dream where I was cutting up Sadie."

"Wow, she is a little crow."

Y'see, the Crow is a trickster, and my Little Bird, is a crow. Now there are different aspects to how the trickster operates, thus the different forms. For me, a Coyote, I teach, usually through my own 'accidents' or through making things difficult for others. Yeah, it means I'm a prick.

Now Crows, they instead are the keepers of secrets, and they search them out and find them however they can. Now I'm not saying some mystical event happened. Although I do think that's possible. I will say she's an incredibly observant little critter and if there was something for her to figure out, she probably did, with her brain working while she slept to move through the observed behavior to come to the correct solution.

Fabulous. Beautiful Little Bird. Happy Coyote Dad.

Not tonight honey I have a headache.

Come in and sit down, I have a funny I wish to share. The fire is low since it is so beautiful out, and the hides are thrown wide to the wind, letting all that fresh air in. I haven't had a chance to restock the snack sack, so feel free to munch on whatever you've brought.

So this is a sex story. And if you think that type of story might offend you, especially if it offends you to think of me having sex with someone, then perhaps it's best to stop reading now. I'm not about to tell some raunchy tale of sexual exploit with graphic descriptions of what body part was where and doing what, but it will contain images more graphic than the usual. Fair warning.

So I had my first real girlfriend right after graduation from high school. And like most at that age, once we got to the action where we mashed our compatible bits together we tended to do it quite often. At the same time, my mother was planning her partial move out to Esterhazy, and I was getting packed up to move into a room and board, with a brief stop at my cousin JJs before starting university. So that summer, I spent a lot of time with my then girlfriend. Let's call her K.

I'd also like to state that while I wasn't in the best shape, I was 245lbs at graduation, tested out benching close to 300 lbs, had a 2.5 ft vertical, an 11 ft standing horizontal, and ran the 40yrd in 5.3sec. These I all found out at the physical trials for the Senior Bowl. I was a beast. Big, strong, thick barrel chest, legs that didn't fit properly into most pants, and I was about to turn 18. Suffice it to say I was a vigorous sexual partner.

So on the last night in the house we lived in back then, me and K were having a wonderful night alone. My parents were coming in the next day, and we had my lovely basement room with it's queen sized waterbed all to ourselves.

After watching Sportsline (I think that was the name of the show on STV back then, hosted by Warren Woods) where I was mentioned by name by a then vet Ram as one of the stand outs at camp for my incredible blocking on the line, I was feeling like a king, a minor god, a being of impossible potential and importance. And as such, the great Pagan God must be given a sacrificial maiden.

So we begin. The kissing is magical, the foreplay is wonderful, in fact if I were to pick a moment from that time, that would be one of the greatest. Too bad it had to end so tragically. For as I know well, no fairy tale lasts long, and while usually it's tragedy that becomes salvation, reality is generally salvation that turns to tragedy.

So without getting too graphic, I was on top, and she is muttering sweet encouragement, counting off the moments of bliss for herself, and I, in my magnificent Glory am setting a pace that would intimidate a porn star. The bed is crashing about, and we are like some Dianaic beast set upon the wild seas of Neptune, both stirring and defeating the power of the ocean.

*CRACK*

Let me explain some physics. When 245lbs of horny teenager with a grossly overinflated sense of importance is performing a sexual act over the legal speed limit on a full waterbed, that is held in on its sides by thick wooden two by sixes that are held to particle board by three steel corner brackets, summin' gunna give brudda.

And give it did. The entire side split off, finally past it's breaking point, sending a full waterbed bladder slithering off, while still in full motion from previously mentioned sexual act. A funny thing happens when the tension of improvised waves on a waterbed are suddenly and violently released. The back end away from the release 'bucks.' It flips up its tail like a playful porpoise and if the individual 'driving' the action so to speak is on a back stroke and not fully set, he is then launched a full four feet in the direction of the pressure release. Unfortunately the wall was only 3 feet away.

The top of my very surprised head connected with one of the two by four studs in the wall, and I was sent crashing to the ground, suddenly interrupted from my sexual bliss with shock, sudden teleportation, and intense pain.

So we scramble off the bed, and I can see that if I don't start draining the bed soon, then it may puncture the bladder, as the bed is literally half way off the platform it normally sits on. So I stand there, at the foot of the bed, K to my side, both of us in silent shock. She reached over, noticing that my physical body had not caught up with the state of my mind, and while touching said sacred place, asked 'Well maybe when we finish we can start draining the bed.'

And that is when I uttered the words that no man before me, and no man since has uttered:

'Not tonight honey I have a headache.'

First Nations in the Military

Wow the weather certainly changed. I've actually propped back the hides to let some more fresh air into the Den. The fire still blazes. Enjoy a snack, I made some egg salad.



So I said a while ago I would explains some of the underhandedness employed by the Canadian Government in recruiting the First Nations into World War II. You see part of that Royal Proclamation I've mentioned before said that no First Nation would be required to serve in any Military action undertaken by the Crown. The irony of that statement is that no military action in the entire history of North America and Canada has occurred without involvement from the First Nations. Amazing hmmm?

So anyways, in WWII the Canadian government needed to up some recruitment so they actively worked the reserves promising land if the young men were to enlist. Quite a few took part in this, thinking this would finally see the resolution of the land issues that many reserves were having.

So off to Europe many Indians went. Including some of my relatives. And there are many of them who came back with accolades and such. I did a quick google search on First Nations in Canadian Armed Forces. WOW! Go give it a look.

And back they come and they go to the Canadian Government and say 'Ok we served, make with the land you promised.' And the government says 'Oh certainly. Here is the land you can have.'

And everyone lived happily ever after.

NOT.

Ok so that was TOTALLY bad eighties etiquette. Here's what really happened.

The Canadian government offered to give these First Nations, who volunteered under the pretense that they would receive land for their reserve, THEIR OWN LAND!! They could pick a plot of land from their reserve and it would be in their own name now rather than the reserve. Oh and since these men now owned land they were considered to be 're-enfranchised' and no longer a Status Indian, they were now white.

No one took the government up on this offer.

How is that for low and underhanded?

Old stuff

Come in and enjoy the fire. The cold is bitter. Isn't it amazing how the end of February and beginning of March have to remind us that it is indeed still winter? So huddle up, grab some blankets and enjoy. This is something old I did for a journal I did in a one hundred level class. It's pretty bare bones but I liked it.

There are two animals I share a very deep and meaningful bond with. Both are my totem animals and their example is what I use to guide my life. First is Owl, which is the totem of my birth. The second is Coyote, the Eternal Teacher and Trickster, and this is the nature of my spirit and the one I most identify with. Both give me guidance in my dreams and in the decisions I make, and the things I do.

Owl is not the solitary creature that is portrayed, but instead one who reveres family. It is one of the darker totems, a harbinger of death and the keeper of secrets and knowledge that should not be common. Despite this I find Owl a close companion and it reflects in the roles I play with my family and friends. Death has never been the scary prospect it is for most people, I have dealt with it as a constant since my father committed suicide when I was only six. I don’t see this as anything more than another stage of life, for physical death is merely that, a loss of one phase, and the start of another. As well I have done, heard, studied, and attempted many things that are not considered normal. Were I to disclose all the things I have done in my life very few would look at me the same, if at all a sane and pleasant person. Yet these things I know, see, and do have created what I am today, a person of compassion and deep feeling, someone who sees the world around me with love and caring. I don’t find the strange or different unappealing; instead these are the things I love. The idiosyncrasies that people may hate in others are the very things I cherish and adore about the people around me. All are welcome in my world and all may come to me no matter the cause and need, for while I know and see the dark, I love the possibility and chance of greatness all things carry.

Coyote is who I am, and who I am is Coyote. I teach, mainly through my own examples but I can teach anyone anything. I have a knack of finding the most important aspects of what must be learned and putting it into a form the person can use, and most times I do this without seeming the teacher. As soon as someone feels you are trying to teach them something an attitude of master to student must be attained, a state where one is seen as greater than the other. Most chaff under this ideal and this is where I thrive. Knowledge does not make someone better, and I recognize this, and while I personally revere and place great respect within those I wish to learn from, I feel no need to be seen as greater merely because I can teach. It is a part of the trick and the beauty that is Coyote. Coyote knows the best student doesn’t intend to learn but must come to the knowledge by themselves. They must own that lesson and live through it for it truly to be of any importance, and as such Coyote never gives anything without a price in the knowledge. That price is usually nothing more than humility, but in that humility most lessons are learned.

By my own connection with these animals I recognize the importance of all things, and the birth of my second daughter shows that even with that I have to learn some things as well. Before she was born, where I lived I had pigeons and robins that roosted and lived in the eaves and trees around my house. I loved waking up to the trilling and cooing of these birds, and looked forward to it even through I was working a job that had me up until four in the morning. After a few years, the crow population in downtown Regina exploded as they migrated due to the avian disease that was killing them. And these were big crows, the kind that don’t give two shakes about the other birds, in fact I watched as several scared off my robins and pigeons. At times I was so annoyed at their intrusion and their loud braying calls I considered even breaking the law by bringing out my paintball gun and shooting the ones in my neighborhood. They’re smart birds, if enough of them died, they’d stay away. I never did, mostly because I take any firearm usage very seriously. A few years later my second daughter was on her way, and I had a series of dreams about her, and in them they revealed her totem to be Crow. It made me think of those that moved into my neighborhood and why and I gained a new perspective because of my newfound adoration of this very lively and incredibly bright animal. And my little girl is as bright and loud, and voracious an eater, as any crow out there.

I weep

Come in and mind you don't step on the shadows. Despite the calmness with which I might project, I am angry, and saddened. I watch as the people of this country and our neighbour slowly let an opportunity slip through their fingers. I watch them all divvy up the pie and devour it without a second thought. I weep. I watch and it makes me angry yet I won't rail against it. I will continue to do what I do best. I will observe, and help anyone who wants it to have a piece of my perspective. So my friends that play in the movements of the fire are unhappy, and ... they might bite.

I'm going to first start with my own understanding of what capitalism is. It is, simply put, the collection of personal capital. The idea is that business will drive the economy and that with the healthy collection of wealth and resources, that everyone will benefit. It's a fairly simple concept really. Of course we've introduced certain things that make the rules a bit tilted.

One aspect of capitalism is the idea that through hard work we can all get rich. If we all buy into the idea and work towards the same purpose (We're all collecting wealth) then we can all have what we want. It's a lie. Capitalism doesn't make us all rich. That's impossible on one simple idea. We're living in what could best be described as a zero sum game.

What do I mean by that? There is only so much to go around. The resources at our disposal are finite. If you take more than you need you make someone else have less. And yes I realize I'm guilty of this myself by virtue of living in an industrialized country. So spare me any ironic commentary. And in case some of you have forgotten, money is a conceptual realization of resources. It is an imaginary product to represent that you are owed this much resource.

So right there folks, we can't all be rich. In fact for every person that's rich, we're probably making 10 people poor. And I'm not talking about the disgustingly wealthy. Those guys ... whatever. I'm not going to rant about that. But suffice it to say, we only have this much, we gotta learn how to share it better.

Now of course there is the argument that gets put forward of 'If I work harder than someone else than I deserve more!' First off, why? If we base it entirely off of work put in every good student I know should be very wealthy. At the very least I should be. I know I put in 4 hours for every hour of class time I have. So lessee, four classes, at three hours class time, that's 12, times four, that's 48, plus I work eight hours on Saturday, and ... I think you get the point. And I actually put in more than 4 hours for each hour of class. It's probably closer to 6 or 8. I'm very serious about my schooling.

But forget that argument. Because it is baseless, for one real big word in that argument. Deserve. I 'deserve' this. Entitlement. You know what you are honestly owed? Nothing. Especially if your overall goal is merely for your own betterment. Because while you as an individual are only one tiny little speck on the overall picture. That's not to say individuals are unimportant but I'm attempting to gain a little perspective for everyone here.

Now one of these days I'm going to sit down and write out why I consider myself an egalitarian and what that means to me but for now let's leave that alone and yes I recognize that the argument isn't fully developed but I want to move on to something else that relates to it.

Right now all the big companies of the US and Canada are holding out their hands to the governments of each country and saying 'We're failing, and we need money to keep going or else we'll have to shut down and then all those jobs we provide will just poof disappear.' What a bunch of fucking THUGS!! How is that different than me walking up to someone with a knife or gun and saying 'Give me your money or I'll take away your health or life?' It's not. It's a threat.

So let's go back to this capitalism thing. Part of it is that you have to provide good business and back up that business with your own hard work right? If hard work earns you money which represents your resource entitlement, and your customers have said 'We don't want to give you any more of our resource entitlement' then ... I'm sure you see where this is going. Shouldn't you then be forced to take your lumps and either do things better or shut down?

So here's my point. Capitalism on the whole has failed. No one but the rich, and a few token lucky cases, have gotten truly rich. And why do I say it's failed? The folks who are holding the majority of the resources, and resource entitlement aren't willing to put their own asses on the line to keep the system going. They're demanding that we, the poor (comparatively) do it for them. And their threat is that if we don't we'll get poorer. Guess what, if we all say no and the system crashes down around their ears, they'll be poor too. So who are they really looking out for, us or themselves? Yeah do the math.

So fine, owners of the big companies of the world. Here's the deal. I'm sure enough of you out there could put together all the money that has been provided from the governments out of your own pockets. Hell I'm sure there's three of you out there that could do that. So why not all pass the hat, and bail your own asses out. And if you are unwilling to do that ... Like I said, capitalism has failed, let the whole system come crashing down, and let's rebuild it on principles that elevate humanity and community rather than pieces of paper with a nebulous imaginary value of what you 'deserve.'

Of course we won't. They won't. We will let the people who are in charge who are getting their own pockets lined by the rich to continue to rule us by fear, and we'll keep going the way we are.

And I weep.

Nervous

C'mon in, and grab a piece of turf. The weather is getting warmer, but the fire will always be here. I'm about to do something I haven't done before. You see I do write poetry. And I'm going to put up the one I finished most recently. Most of the poems I write are little musing things, I don't know how good they are, but I think this one is pretty good. Feel free to criticize.

The Moon

Sharp edged steel flows
Into sensual curves.
Dangerous paths wind among
Tall cliffs. Walls of threatening
Rock hide what might be within.
If you know the path they
Lead to cavernous empty spaces
And here I find hiding places.

Forward, the icy light
Shines. It breaks down all
Considerations. Fear holds sway
Over the ocean of chaos
Barely held from sight.
If you know the right word they
Calm and allow you to approach
And the sky blue loses all reproach.

To give your Self is a dangerous thing
And to accept that gift is the same as
Giving. Fear is bred amongst the tall
Spires of protection we all carry.
Beauty is not in the beholder’s eye
Instead it flows from the mind.
Imagination is what fuels love’s embrace
And through that creates such sublime taste.

For this I then break away
From the paths most taken.
I know that this way is not tread
By any before and as such
I know that I will find my paradise.
What I seek is nothing
Less than the dark sword flaming
Barring the way to Eden waning.

Did it follow me?

Come in, sit down, I wish to share one of my funny little lucid dreams. I'll get the fire really moving and then you can watch it amongst the shadows.

So I've decided to become an MMA fighter, and somehow I've convinced Dana White that without any real significant training, and no professional fights, I should get a shot at the big show.

I've been working out and doing some training apparently, and I'm down to about 185, and can cut to 170. So Dana gets his revenge, cuz I'm sure I've tricked him into letting me fight, by placing me against Matt Hughes. Talk about going to get your ass handed to you right?

As a side story to this, someone I knew, but they never had a name, had been training and fighting MMA for years, and they were pissed I got this opportunity. So they followed me to Vegas for the fight.

So big night, I'm ready (Coherent aside, I looked damn good at 185), I'm getting my hands taped, and while I know I'm going out to get my ass kicked in front of millions of people, I'm quite happy about it. I know I've always got a puncher's chance. So out I walk. To, and I swear I picked the music for humor value, Don't Worry, Be Happy. So there I am, whistling away, my cornermen are hanging their heads in shame, the crowd is silent, seeing some goofy looking guy come bopping out to silly music.

So i get to the ring. Hughes' music kicks in, the crowd goes wild. Hell even I'm cheering! I mean this is Matt Hughes, he's a great fighter. Not one of my favs, but still. And I think to myself 'I'm gonna get punched in the face by Matt Hughes! WHEE!' Cripes.

So the fight starts. We trade blows, he hits hard, but nothing that's worrying me. I come in with a striaght kick and catch him, but he moves back well. I follow up with a right hook and he catches a take down. So there we are grappling, and I'm getting owned. But he can't seem to get a clean blow, or a submission to stick. I'm defending really well. Round ends. I'm sure the judges have scored it 10-8 Hughes, but whatever! I just hung with one of the best! YAH ME!

Round two, we come out and I think, 'What the fuck, what's the worst that can happen?' I launch into a super man punch, and it connects! THOK right to the forehead! He stumbles back. I'm momentarily stunned myself, so I follow it with a flying knee! Crack! To the jaw, as we come down, I throw an elbow to his face, and I cut him! But I forget this guy has been hit by bigger and better men. I'm wrapped up, swept, and he's now in my guard. Again I'm defending really well. I can tell Matt is getting really frustrated. He's raining down blows, but I'm deflecting them well and even sneaking in a fist or elbow of my own, plus I'm moving enough to keep him from pinning me to the fence or from getting a better position. Round two is about to close and there is the ref, Mario Yamasaki (The Wopjap! My fav ref) saying 'Get busy Rich or I call the fight.' Ding. End of second round.

Matt is really pissed, he gets up and starts screaming at the ref, like he should have stopped the fight. I bounce up and shrug to Matt, 'Hey if you're tired of kicking my ass, feel free to quit!' I then walk to my corner, looking a little battered but fine. And you know what he does? He quits! He yells at Dana that he hates fighting, doesn't want to do it anymore, and walks out!

So remember the guy who was pissed off about me getting the fight? Well he bounces into the ring and starts stripping down to his boxers. He's yelling at me c'mon let's go. So. We do.

I got a take down. I got past his guard, I got mount. I proceed to rain fists down on this guy's face like it's goin' outta style. I wasn't tired anymore, I just wanted to shut this fucker up. I watched as each blow starts to damage his face. Cuts, welts, swelling, blood flows, nose broken, I feel something crack as I hit his jaw, his head turns sideways, I drop forward and crack an elbow into the side of his head, it bounces. Mario tackles me off of the guy, and I slowly stand up as the doctors rush in. I watch as they check on him and he's seriously hurt. Badly hurt.

I woke up shortly after that. Really really happy.