Heyokah The Trickster

Heyokah

The Trickster

For me, this month of April has been one where Heyokah has come for a visit. Heyokah is the Divine Trickster, so called by the Plains Indians. The Trickster has often come to visit with me and I have, at last, learned to laugh at the lessons. Today I dealt happily with the latest lesson.

I was Artist of the Month for Halcyon Store & Post Office in Arroyo Grande, http://halcyonstore.com/  for the month of April. Lisa, https://plus.google.com/u/0/110594799494645719905 has her jewelry and our tie dye shirts. We had planned on participating in the Mother’s Day Craft Show next month, but Lisa got the opportunity to become Camp Host for Jamala Beach so we no longer could do the show; not a problem. I wrote a letter to the Halcyon Store advising them of the change. I sent it on 4-5-15.

Three weeks later I get this letter back in the mail as undeliverable! My goodness, it was a Post Office! No problem. I went there, bringing the letter and they took me off the sign-up sheet. I assumed, (which is a very silly thing to do because the Trickster often takes advantage of ASSumptions) that the $10.00 check I had given to hold our place in the show would not be cashed.

The check was cashed! Last night I received an email from Chase Bank, my account was overdrawn – I had paid all my bills and very often, I don’t have anything left. (Starving Artist that I am : )

Today I went to Halcyon Store and was graciously given back my $10.00 which I took back to Chase Bank, who graciously removed the charge! Such is the Way of Heyokah! It really was not anything to get upset about, it was a lovely drive and best of all, while waiting at Chase Bank for a representative, I read this weeks Sun newspaper.

In the “Arts Brief” I saw an ad seeking submissions for the Art of Recovery to be held at the Recovery Learning Center at Rancho Hermosa. The exhibit will be free and open to the public May 13th through 16^th, and May 20^th  through 23^rd from 2:00pm to 5:30pm.

A Reception event is May 16^th from 4pm to 7pm. The Center is located @  235 E Inger Drive, Santa Maria.

If I had not gone to Chase Bank; I would never have seen the ad. I could hear the Trickster laughing loudly and I joined in!

Now for some more of “The Journey Within; A Child’s Memoir”

9/10/72 Sunday

Today was the worst day of my life.  We didn't sing in church today, only the adult choir sang.  We all had to sit together in front of grandma in church because mom and dad were singing.  Kathy and Lisa were pushing each other next to me and when I tried to tell them to stop, grandma knocked me on the back of the head with her cane, telling me to be quiet.  It didn't hurt really, but it was real embarrassing cause we were sitting in the front row.  Of course everyone had already seen my black eye and they all really believed I was stupid enough to stick a hanger in it, now everyone saw me get whacked by grandma's cane. And that was just the beginning!  Every Sunday after the last song, I love to rush over and watch Mrs. Mount play the organ.  She's fantastic!  I wish I had talent like that.  It's a huge pipe organ; I think it's the 3rd largest in the whole United States or something like that.  There's all kinds of pedals you have to push with your feet and like 3 or 4 rows of piano keys you have to play with your hands.  Sometimes, not very often, if all of us kids worked real extra hard at choir rehearsal, she would play the Batman theme song.  It was so cool listening to her play that song in church, it sounded great on that pipe organ.  Especially if we're standing up in the balcony!  Anyway, I went over and watched while Mrs. Mount played the recessional hymn like I always do, and then went outside to find my family and watched them drive right by me.  Kathy even stuck her tongue out at me.  I don't understand what I do so wrong that my family hates me so much.  I felt like a huge rock was stuck in my throat and I knew I was going to cry.  I hate crying, it always makes things so much worse.  I ran from the parking lot and took the forbidden short cut through the woods, and I didn't care if I stepped on a nail again or not.  I was already in trouble and I didn't know why; I figure I might as well do something bad.  I stopped myself from crying and tried to cover it up with some dirt.  I knew I had better hurry up and get to grandma's house.  I hated going there every Sunday after church, I mean I love the fresh, hot, hard rolls with real butter from Baldanza's bakery that dad always gets, but I'd rather be home eating it.  As soon as I opened the front door, guess what happened?  Yep, both Kathy and Walter ran to tell my parents I was there.  I got called into the kitchen where all the grownups were sitting, eating and talking.  Grandma looked real mad, but when I looked at Pop, he was smiling and my heart sank down to my sneakers.  I was going to be sent down to the basement to help Pop again and that was the worst punishment anybody could ever get.  Since I knew I had to go, I ran down the steps.  Pop always locked the door real high up where none of us could reach, so there was no escape.  I really hate the black opening that's halfway down the stairs.  It's the crawl space under great grandma's apartment, but it's all dirt. I know Pop buries all the animals he kills there, and it really scares me.  I quickly went in to his workshop and saw a little kitten in a box.  At first he let me play with the little kitten and for just a little while I thought maybe today Pop had a real job for me to do. But when I looked up at Pop, he was rubbing himself and I knew.  Pop smiled at me and quickly grabbed the little kitten from my hands.  The kitten lashed out with its little nails, but it didn't help. Pop made sure I watched as he broke its neck.  Pop threw the dead kitten on his work bench, then he picked me up and put me right next to it.  He made me watch him cut off the kitten's paws and laughed when I started to cry.  Pop grabbed my hand next and put it in the vice on the table.  He told me he was going to cut my hand off if I didn't do whatever he said.  Well, I'm writing with my hand now, so he didn't cut it off, but I hurt so much down there and in my heart.  After he was done with me, he unlocked the door and told me to go on to work at Mrs. Pennsy's house.  I ran up the steps and out the side door, so glad to be free. 

The front of Mrs. Pennsy's house was on Broadway, but the back faces my street so I only have to cross the street to get there.  Today I dusted all her knick knacks and boy does she have a ton of them.  I have to walk real slow or the floor shakes all the glass cabinets holding them.  Then I washed the dishes in the sink.  She has a really neat, huge, double sink, and I actually had a little fun washing the dishes.  It sure beat working for Pop.  Later when I got home, I went right upstairs.  A few minutes later, Karen came into our room and found me crying.  She's such a good sister, she didn't ask me anything, she just gave me a really big hug.  I didn't have to say anything.  We both got up, holding hands and  went outside to try planting the garden again.  Maybe it won't work, but Karen said we must never give up trying to be like Jesus, so we can't stop trying, not ever.

9-30-72  Saturday

Good News!  Pop didn't get Karen last night!  He drank so much he passed out before he could hurt anyone.  Prayers do work if you pray hard enough!  I had a good time at the bowling alley, but there sure are a lot of angry bowlers.  One woman, mom said she always loses her temper, began kicking the ball return when she missed a split.  She broke it and both teams had to move to finish bowling.  Mommy was the secretary of the league so she had to deal with most of these crazy people.  I just tried to stay out of the way and become invisible and watch all the crazy, drunk people.  No one paid any attention to me and I liked that very much.  I watched mom bowl; she is a very good bowler and she never gets mad if she misses a pin.  Dad is funny when he bowls 'cause he'll try all different things, like bowling left handed or rolling it through his legs when he's facing backwards.  Dad likes to bowl, but he's not addicted to it like mom is.  I over heard him say to mom that he was thinking that he might want to quit bowling!  She got a mad look on her face, but I was overjoyed.  If he doesn't go bowling, we don't need a babysitter!  I'm going to pray really hard for that to happen.  I woke Karen up when I got home, first to make sure she was okay and then to tell her what I heard dad say.  She was overjoyed too.  We just hugged each other; so happy to think the worst might be over.  We fell asleep hugging.

The Deepening Process

This will be my serious attempt at blogging. Although I am well aware that we've been in the 21st Century for awhile now, accepting change becomes more difficult as we age. I remember when VCR's first came into existence how difficult it was for my mother and how easy it was for me. Time moves on and before you realize it, you're past 50 years, which is where I am now, I am 52. I've had a most wonderful adventurous and eventful life. There were many painful lessons but they taught me so much. I know we all have a story and I want to share mine to support anyone that has had or those still experiencing an abusive childhood. There IS healing; there IS recovery and you are not alone. 
http://www.gofundme.com/PerceptionShared 


My story begins with my birth on September 5th, 1962, but the first and most defining life event to take place in my life was April 2nd 1965, the birth of my baby sister, Karen. I do recognize that as the beginning of my life's Journey. In my Blog I will share my book, "The Journey Within; A Child's Memoir". 

Dedication  

One out of three girls are sexual molested by the time they turn eighteen; One out of four boys. This book is a true account of such an experience. A child’s voice, finally audible after twenty-one years of therapy, speaks out and shares her journey.  
Heartfelt thanks and deep gratitude to: Jane Reskoff, my group counselor at Parent’s United who became my individual therapist. She made me sign a contract promising I would not kill myself. Jane knew that I would never break a promise to her – she truly saved my life. 
Mary Jo Alburtus is the counselor I worked the most intensely with as well as the longest. She taught me how to live my life and go/grow beyond the pain. The depths of my appreciation for her skills, boundaries, wisdom, understanding and most of all, her patience with me, simply can not be expressed in words.  
C. Alexander, my first love. Kim O’Donnell and Tammy Clayton. They both walked the dark road of flashbacks with me – thanks. 
Ray Good, the best friend anyone could ever have! I wouldn’t have accomplished this book or come this far without your help. 
Bert Wentworth, my other best friend, I wouldn’t have made it to Arizona without your help. I miss you and I miss our weekly Uno games!  
DAN (DisabledArtistsNetwork) created by Wanda in honor of her uncle. Art has been a major source of healing from the pain in my childhood. Thank you for all your time and effort! SGI-USA my supportive and loving Buddhist family. Embracing the Mystic Law of cause and effect by chanting Nam myo-ho renge kyo has transformed my life. I now have a ‘functional’ family anywhere that I may chose to go! 
Special thanks to Rosemary Altea and Sylvia Browne – your teachings matched my experiences and validated them.