Phoebe face, pleasantly arranged for the first ten minutes of their reunion, took on a stridency; surprising and alarming El. “You are what is wrong right now. You think you can consume your way into spirituality. You think you can buy and own the spiritual practices and objects of others, appropriate their holiness for your own selfish desires.”
“A friend, a black friend, brought me this from Africa.” El stuttered trying to get out her story.
“I don’t really care how you got this, she doesn’t belong in your home. She belongs in Africa with her ancestors. You make me sick. You have no idea who you are or who YOUR ancestors are.”
“Uh, well, uh….” Unsure how to treat this attack, El puzzled how to proceed. “I don’t really care for the way my ancestors behaved,” This felt lame. “I can’t find a time my ancestors weren’t wrecking civilizations and taking land.”
Naomi practically spat at El, “That’s it in a nut shell. You are taking somebody’s most holy of objects and using it to play Indian. Look at your alter. It has Chinese, Native American, Catholic and African objects all over it. None of it is your own heritage except the taking of others things and ideas. You can never understand their true nature, never have the meaning of this woven into your heart by a collective vision. Instead you have stolen it from where it belongs, further fracturing our indigenous cultures.”
“I think you mistake me. Really. I haven’t stolen any of this. It was all given to me or sold.” El managed to say.
“Sold. You can’t buy a spiritual object. They come from a long relationship with the cosmos.”
Then Phoebe was leaving, holding the Mother of the Universe. “She is coming with me so that I can make sure she is returned to Africa. We should all desire to return to our OWN indigenous roots.”
“Frankly, that is what I am attempting to do”. El’s anger escalated. “I would like to living in balance, with a nature/cosmos based world view . I study the Meso-American calendar, because they have offered to us their ways so we too can walk in balance in the world. I don’t steal their stuff. They have given it to all humans as a way to recover and remember who we are. I am not copying them. I just try to live as honestly as I can building on indigenous concepts and internalizing their sense of time and metaphor for imbuing sacred meaning into my life. I don’t pay people to heal me or ask them to pay me. I’m trying to have peace in my life.”
Phoebe’s scorn did not lessen. She was as furious as she had ever been. As she always was, since she was small. A fury fed by something El did not think she would ever understand.
“Do you want to know how the Mother came into my presence or do you want to march out of here with your superior attitude and this figurine?”
Gathering her backpack, Phoebe pressed her already thin lips hard together, slashing her warrior face with fury. She turned towards me still clutching the Mother as if the figurine was filling a gaping hole in heart.
El began witnessing a transformation.
Phoebe seemed possessed with the Mother, but not in a good way. Her hair sparked, the sunlight and dust motes were frenzied around her. An unearthly voice arose from the previously compressed lips.
“I am the Mother of the Universe.”
El froze. Spirit was speaking and she became overwhelmed with fear.Reality bent in front of her eyes.
“El, I came into your life because you asked me to. You called my name and requested my presence. I am Mother of the Universe, not Mother of the African tribes, or the Basques, the Celts, the Creeks, the Mayans. I am the original ancestor of you all. I belong to no one and no one has my permission to take me anywhere. I am here of my own violation. Put me back on the alter. My job, at this moment is to midwife this solar system into a new dimension. Leave me to my work.”
Phoebe stopped speaking. She blinked. El gaped at her. The blaze of light subsided.
No comments:
Post a Comment