Dear Everyone,

my gratitude to all who came to the event today. it was a beautiful afternoon with art, poetry, music, and just a smidge of dancing to keep us warm through the chill. Alice Walker says “hard times require furious dancing.” indeed. thanks for the gorgeous fury.

especially to those who shared:

Harry Azmitia

Sandra Azmitia

Sasha Dorit-Kendall

Anita Gallers

Peggy Winnett

Linda Wlodycka

Chaya Grossberg

Lori Desrosiers

Michael Arraj

Monica

Helen

Em

*

it was my absolute pleasure to host the space for you all. here’s to more poetry at the Cup & Top!

love,

em

Dear Everyone,

here is the statement which will be posted tomorrow at the Cup & Top along with the art. 

Love,

em

*****

“We urgently need to change the way that we manage our world, our corporate culture, our international relations, our treatment of the natural world and its ecosystems. We know we cannot go on living as we do. [Art prompts] us to see life differently, and when we free up our imaginative life, we are free to imagine a very different kind of world, and that is what is needed, and we have never needed it more urgently. In a world economy that depends on separations, art asks us to make connections…”
~ Jeanette Winterson on Art

When you view these works, I encourage you not to ask what they mean, but how they mean. To inquire of yourself not what words you would put to them, but what feelings are inspired by them. Less like a lightbulb and more like the Northern Lights. How do you personally free up your imaginative life each day? What is the different kind of world you imagine? What are the connections you wish to make or see made?

This series of works - done not so much by me, but through me — began as an exploration of a connection I wished to make to my own biological-familial roots. It became something different, however, as the ideas engendered by the questions I was asking necessarily call attention to the larger picture of movement of peoples, traditional cultures, diaspora, and what it means to be a global citizen.

With Native American Indian heritage on both sides of my family (matrilineally Mi’kmaq and patrilineally Pocumtuck), I thought to do an exploration of contemporary Native culture as a way to re-connect with my ancestors. Unsurprisingly I found that, rather than a single cohesive narrative on each side, the stories are forever in motion… a family sets down roots for a while… the children grow and move and find routes to their own lives… set down roots… to routes…

Tracing my ancestors’ migrations (from the Nova Scotia area to Connecticut and from Deerfield to Westfield) I found stories of so many other journeys. How did we all get to where we are? And where do we go from here?

In asking myself such broad rhetorical questions, I was finally moved to ponder this one: what is Sacred? In other words: what is it that gives our lives meaning? What is it that you hold as Sacred? G-d? Buddha? Allah? The Universe? Your Parents? Your children? Your dog? Your Self?

We each have the roots we claim as our own (be they literal or metaphoric, ancient or modern). And we each have our routes (travel which may be geographic or interior) that modify the meanings of our existence. This work started as an exploration of roots but has become a celebration of the endless circles of Life moving within the One Sacred Hoop of our shared world.

Without the domination that comes when boundaries are forcefully overstepped, how can these things that shape our lives be safely shared? With global histories of (attempted) genocide, colonization, and violence, what is needed in our collective dialogue to further the cause of peace & justice? Use your imagination. Now. What is it you need to hear? It’s time to listen. What is it your voice is yearning to say? It’s time to speak. Now. It’s time to make connections.

dear Everyone,

here is information about the open-mic & art show reception.

where: cup & top cafe, 1 north main street, florence, ma

when: thursday, february 5th, from 4 pm to 6 pm

details:  please come out & support the responsible, enviro-friendly cafe and a local artist/poet.

the first half hour of the opening reception will be arrival & mingling. from 4:30-5:30 will be an open mic. em plans to perform one piece, and is thrilled to welcome all members of the community to share poetry, prose, dance, etc (5 minute limit suggested).

the theme is “routes to roots: exploring the circle.” the work is concerned with the concepts of place, home, travel, migration… and how these ideas impact, complicate, create notions of self.

please bring/write pieces to read which express whatever the themes of global citizenship, home (roots), and/or journeying (routes) mean to you. or just bring something you really want to share.

i look forward to sharing a special, joyful afternoon with you all.

soft blessings,

ej

p.s. for an interesting take on what it means to be both local & global, click here to see this NYT review of Appiah’s “The Ethics of Identity.” i don’t claim to agree with the book or review in entirety (particularly the occasionally dense prose which has the potential of alienating non-academic readers), but there is some interesting food-for-thought there.

Research Symposium
Finding Our Way: Histories of Indigenous Women
Wednesday, December 10th, 7 pm
Smith College Neilson Browsing Room

Welcome: Alice Nash
Blessing: EJ Santos

Presentations

Section I: The Use & Abuse of Education
Paper: Kathleen Reuter
Paper: Alison Montgomery
Comment: Neil Salisbury

Section II: Ethnography & Personal History
Paper: Raya Wall
Paper: Amanda Lapahie
Comment: Daniel Rivers

Section III: Resisting Violence Against Indigenous Women
Paper: Jennifer Rawlings
Poem (”hallowed women”): em jollie
Comment: Jennifer Guglielmo

*****

the event is free & open to the public. it would be wonderful to have your support.

all love,

- em

Serendipities & Synchronicities… or, Why I prefer to run on Indian Time:

The Universe has a way of planning that is organic & apt beyond ‘logical’ comprehension. Unexpectedly saw several dear friends in the Co-op last night and was invited to join them to Luz Elena’s “Gathering in Gratitude” in Brattleboro.  It was lovely to spend time with three amazing women, and to be a part of the audience for such a Beautiful, celebratory show… we left & quite literally danced back to our cars… the Milky Way was painted brilliantly across the clear Vermont sky… quite a journey, indeed.

Wela’lin, wela’lin, wela’lin…

Wela’lin,

ej

Tuesday, February 10th, 2009:

A Starry Night of Poetry featuring em jollie

Hosted by Lori & Eli @ Word in Westfield

Preceded by an Open mic (sign-ups 6:30)

more information forth-coming.

Love,

ej

Happy 13th…  Thirteen: the number of the Sacred Feminine. The number of Moons in a year’s worth of cycles. The day I mailed my manuscript to Perugia Press. The very same day my Pine drum arrived from the Drum People. It’s aesthetically gorgeous, and its song is a strong heartbeat. Here’s to dreaming & drumming in Beauty. And here is a poem inspired by the emails I’ve exchanged with Cheryl & Keith.

Love,

ej

*****

Picking Up: Poem for the Drum People

Bottles of yellow surprise
strategically left for Cheryl
by someone who knows
her habit of clearing the wake
of garbage left by humans
motoring through lifetimes
asleep, as if they are not part
of the land
they drive over,
is one discordant chord
in a world of off-key songs.

But listen:
she was able to tell me the story
and I was able to hold it in my heart.
Sharing our griefs, we learn to weave
each thread back into the tapestry
of Creation, and to sing softly as we work.
Our song of joy & sorrow is an old one, older
than the Snickers candy bar wrapper trash
that covers this fourth world,
older than Gas Stations & Seven Elevens,
older even than the Ghost Dancers.
It is an ancient song and, in human time,
a slow one.

But listen:
the beat, it is picking up.
The beat is picking up,
like Powwow drums in the distance
getting louder as we all stumble closer
to Beauty. The path is steep,
so on the way we must
cradle each other with kindness,
and carefully pick up the pieces
of our aching gorgeous human selves
like those who devote time to clearing
the litter left on Mother Earth’s skin:
as if every single piece matters,
because it does.

The River Valley Market, Northampton’s new local food co-op, recently had a poetry contest to celebrate their Grand opening. There were three categories; my submission took grand prize under the “your food co-op” designation. Last night, amidst the cheeses, all winners read their poems. Everyone did a wonderful job, and the co-op’s grand opening month long celebration had a splendid finale.

ej

*

Rainbow Love Sonnet for the Co-op

Mauve and crimson red of apples dear,

orange pumpkins ripe for this time of year,

yellow bananas & lemons smile at me

as I enter the store and see the green

of organic veggies beyond the fruit scene.

Those blue skies over the Quarry Cafe

also watch over local farmers each day.

Purple colors my re-usable bags,

& purple potatoes with lime green tags.

Black, brown, white of rice, boxes, and beans

to wine, cheese, fish & everything in between.

My senses thrill at the co-op experience,

but my favorite part is our shared events

and the smiling faces of our community.

The Power of Never, Squared
for Joy Harjo

Today is December 11th of an El Nino year,
and this is my morning walk:
snowless clouds watch over Squirrels
who still wear their fall colors
as they sashay down the runway
of brown leaves, collecting lingering
acorns. They are Native here
and have nothing to prove. Like me,
they live wild, protest colonization
(which includes the term New England)
and have accepted the inevitability
of several inches of snow fallen
by Thanksgiving.
We are all falling fast

towards the border between worlds
What happens when it draws this near
is that even the children are aware
of the veil, lifting. Of the amalgamation
happening between truth and magic,
a process that reveals
the inherent metaphor in everything.
And the fact that nothing is ever as sudden

as we like to believe. I ask the Squirrels
if we’re going to be OK and they say
we will never make it
if we keep thinking of hurricanes
and Earth as the enemy,
if we don’t move past this idea of progress
that packages plastic hearts
like tiny ten cent machines
whose violated valves produce pollution
and beg us to erase ourselves.
If we don’t stop the plague of forgetting

what it truly means to be human.
I lean against a nearby Oak,
letting her hold me & love me
for a moment
while I watch the Squirrels dig holes
in the barely-frozen ground and
my trembling flesh-and-blood heart knows
they are right.

We are rising up, but still, it’s December 11th
and the afternoon is warm enough
that I grab only a windbreaker
on my way out the door. Seeing my niece
waiting by the car, I remind myself to change
a line of this poem, it should read:
especially the children are aware.

“We’re never going to make it!” I cry,
this time referencing the clock
and our scheduled hour of arrival
in Boston. “Never say never,”
offers the girl with a smile.
These words of faith are a gift to me
as are her eyes: two shining lanterns –
Sun and Moon, showing me the way.

*****

Kwe’ Everyone,

My dear friend Susan Deercloud submitted this poem of mine on the sly and, lo & behold, it is now in print. The Fall 2008 edition of Yellow Medicine Review ( http://yellowmedicinereview.com/index.html ) contains my poem “The Power of Never, Squared.”  Wela’lin, my endless gratitude, to Susan.

Hello, world. Indeed.