Tag Archives: relationships

Feb9

I Feel Cherokee

Posted on 02/09/2014 by Joan T Warren

My Great-Great Grandmother Elizabeth Sophia Grey. Eastern Tribe. Can you help me find her true identity? She likely changed her last name at least.

My Great-Great Grandmother, Elizabeth Sophia Grey. Eastern Tribe. I believe she changed her last name. Do you know her?

I feel Cherokee.

Shrouded in secrecy after hiding from Indian Removal in the 1800’s, my 1900’s family seemed unable to pass on important information to support our Cherokee heritage. We can trace all directions but this one.

Though just a small percentage runs through these veins, my Cherokee blood is mighty. I feel it when I look at the sky, when I walk near great waters, when I head toward the mountains, when I read their stories.

I feel Cherokee.

I feel Cherokee values, these from the Cherokee Preservation Foundation website:

Spirituality, which creates a bond among Cherokee people in good times and bad, and is a source of hope.
Group harmony in community and kin relationships, and freely sharing and giving time, talent and treasures.
Strong individual character, with integrity, honesty, perseverance, courage, respect, trust, honor and humility.
Strong connection with the land and commitment to stewardship of the homelands of the Cherokee.
Honoring the past by knowing one’s ancestors, identifying with and belonging to the tribe, and living and preserving Cherokee culture.
Educating the children by providing values-oriented education and recreation, and by being strong role models for them.
Possessing a sense of humor, which can lighten pressure in serious situations and help people make good decisions.

Mary Agnes Grey Burris, my Great Grandmother

Not knowing these values were Cherokee, they have been my values–except that I don’t know my ancestors. Not yet.

I want to know my ancestors. As a garden bed needs turning, I feel the need to dig into the rich soil of those who have gone before.

I feel Cherokee.

I feel Cherokee land. My husband and I sometimes dream about different places in the world we may like to retire to. When we are finally free of the commitments we have to our present locale, where will we land? Where is home? We could go anywhere.

Appalachia by DenesiaChristine

The land that feels like home, though I wasn’t born or raised there, is the land of the Cherokee. It was their homeland for unknown centuries, until immigrants (whom they largely welcomed and helped) forcibly drove them out of it. Former leaders of our United States misled them, broke promises and cheated them out of their homeland. Now they have reservations. It all used to be theirs.

Winter in Higher Elevations, Appalachia by DenesiaChristine

My daughter moved to their region recently. Nearly every day she posts pictures on Instagram, and expresses her pure joy and love for these mountains. I am moved. I can’t help but click ‘like’ on every photo! We love that land. We want it protected, nourished and cherished. We look forward to knowing and loving the people as well. If you would like to see more of her inspiring photography, you can follow her on Instagram, she is DENESIACHRISTINE.

Wildflowers in Appalachia by DenesiaChristine

I feel Cherokee.

I feel Cherokee history and culture. I love the way Cherokees welcomed and worked with settlers. I’m intrigued by their prophetic awareness of the Great Spirit, how they saw peril coming from the new people, yet they embraced them, believing in a greater good in the long run. I endorse their respectful practices regarding hunting, caring for all living things and wasting nothing. I love how their “good medicine” includes healthy relationships.

I have much to learn about and from the Cherokee. As I write my first novel, I will be doing just that. One of the main characters in my upcoming novel is Cherokee. We will explore and learn in and through her character. I hope to learn important information to support my family’s Cherokee heritage for future generations, and to support the Cherokee nation as a whole.

I feel Cherokee. It feels good. I hope you’ll enjoy feeling Cherokee with me.

©Joan T. Warren

To begin learning more about Cherokee, and Appalachian history, try these links:

http://www.smokymountainnews.com/news/item/655-at-long-last-cherokee-telling-their-own-story

http://appalachianstudies.org/resources/docs/97whisnant63.html

Nov26

Last Days of Sweet Sixteen

Posted on 11/26/2013 by Joan T Warren

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There is a lot of talk lately about the last days. The last days of President Kennedy’s life in this 50th anniversary of his death, the last days of confidence in the USA being the strongest country in the world, the last days of planet Earth as we approach the Apocalypse, you know, that sort of thing. Somehow, I got to thinking about the last days of being sixteen. Perhaps it’s because my granddaughter, who is coming to visit this Thanksgiving, turns seventeen in January. Wow, it’s hard to believe, already, these are the last days of sixteen for her.

Remember being sixteen? I do.

My mother told me that it was very important to have a Sweet Sixteen Birthday Party, actually, a “Sweet Sixteen and Never Been Kissed Party.” I was probably about six at the time, and this thought captivated me. I pictured myself at that Exciting Party, turning sixteen. I would be tall and thin, like Barbie. Read the rest of this entry →

Sep13

Faulty Fault Lines–When Bad Things Happen to Little People

Posted on 09/13/2013 by Joan T Warren

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Janie smiled through her tears and put her arms around Stella.

“How do you do it, Stella? You always seem to find a way to help me put things in perspective when I get like this. I wish I had your confidence! I wish I could stay on top of things the way you do; you never seem to let people push you around, yet you’re not a bully either.”

Composing herself after at least thirty minutes of crying and talking, Janie now felt better. She sat back in her seat and picked up her coffee mug, her favorite mug, which she loved for its heft, its shape and its ability to channel those amazing aromas right where she needed them most. She felt now that she had some good ideas about how to tackle the problem. “Really, Stella, how DO you do it? Were you just born this way?”

Stella sipped her coffee, too. She loved it when someone took the time to ask her deeper questions. Though she’d never broadcast her life or push her opinions, she felt deeply rewarded when she was able to help another. It was as though all her troubles were worth it.

Well, Stella divulged, “I wasn’t always as I am today. One of my old trademarks was that I used to think everything was my fault–and nothing was my fault!”

I was quick to apologize for anything someone else was unhappy about, as if I were responsible for the world, but slow to see things that actually were my responsibility.

Rain on your wedding day? I’m sorry. Mad at your boss? I’m sorry. Lightning struck your Uncle Milford? I’m so sorry. You’re home from work early and hungry because you didn’t stop for lunch and I didn’t have a premonition about this and fix your dinner early? I’m sorry. Here, let me drop my work, mid-sentence, and get right on that.

Then, on the other hand, nothing that I really did was ever MY fault!

Oh, I’m late for work? Well, boss, it’s not really MY fault. I had to make breakfast for my family, get the laundry started, stop what I was doing every time someone couldn’t find their socks, walk the dog when everyone left without doing it, stop at the store so there would be coffee in the break room, and then drive my aunt to the dry cleaner–yes, she had an emergency apparel deficiency.

Geez, why can’t my boss understand that, doesn’t she have a family? I would think.

Stella smiled as she animated these stories. They were true for her, she had lived in that realm for so many years. She looked at Janie, who smiled back, waiting for more of her story.

Well, after about two or three THOUSAND people said I shouldn’t apologize so much, I slowly started to think maybe there might be something wrong with me (Oh, and I’ve been sorry about that too, two or three thousand times).

But what could it be? I thought. What’s wrong with being nice? I’m empathetic, dedicated, loyal, helpful, sensitive, compassionate, considerate. . . What’s so bad about that?

Plenty! Well, actually, nothing, as long as that’s REALLY what you are. Peel away the nice facade, though, and what did I find? The real reason I had such a hard time recognizing what I was truly responsible for. . . the real reason I defended myself when I truly was responsible for doing something wrong. . . the real reason I tried so hard to be so nice, empathetic, dedicated, loyal, helpful, sensitive, compassionate and considerate. . . was my inner wretch!

Underneath it all, I felt completely ashamed of who I was. I was a wretch.

Wretch, according to Miriam-Webster:

a miserable person;

one who is profoundly

unhappy or in great misfortune

II was miserable on the inside. I felt as though I were less than everyone around me.

Why would a young woman (yes, I was young once), with such admirable qualities feel so miserable inside? I was living out of a self-concept that was seriously flawed.

If you said I was pretty, I’d say, “Yeah, pretty ugly.”

They both chuckled.

“I know what you mean,” Janie offered. “I never in a million years would have guessed you felt that way about yourself. You’re beautiful, and you seem so confident.”

Thanks; it’s true, though. I felt ugly on the inside because I bought into some seriously wretched lies about myself when I was a girl.

Where did those lies come from?

What it boiled down to, after digging deep into the soil of my innermost thoughts and feelings, is that the lies came from trying to figure out why bad things happened to me.

READER WARNING: From here we will talk a little about those bad things. If you’re feeling brave today, click for more–

Read the rest of this entry →

Sep9

New Menu Topic

Posted on 09/09/2013 by Joan T Warren

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“My dear,”

she whispered as she peered down over her bifocals

to the little one fearfully looking up to her for help,

“These are not the sort of things people talk about.”

This new category/menu heading is dedicated to those things.

Because silence is not always golden.

©JoanTWarren

Aug3

Poetry Page

Posted on 08/03/2013 by Joan T Warren

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Poetry bears opportunity,

emotion,

imagery,

rhythm,

thought

and freedom.

Boundless expression, relation, connection

and dreams, at once.

Here, my heart encapsulated, spoken, declared.

Reflections glimmering

as sun on water;

this page, dedicated to poetry,

old and new,

deep and light,

heart to heart.

©Joan T. Warren

Jul15

A Delicate Strength

Posted on 07/15/2013 by Joan T Warren

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Rocky Mountain National Park

Above the tree line, frigid wind, snow and ice sever all but the most adapted life forms.

In this harsh environment, against all expectation, alpine wildflowers paint the rocky terrain with vibrant hues of pink, purple, white and yellow:

: Rocky Mountain National Park Alpine Flower

Colors we typically associate with femininity–

certainly not our definition of rugged.

: Courtesy Andy Baird, Travels with Gertie

Though the largest clusters are one to two inches tall and less than a foot in diameter, most are miniscule–those pictured here, just an eighth of an inch! These tiny beauties have the power to attract attention despite intense competition from endless mountain views and pristine open skies:

Miniature stature we typically deem picayune–

certainly not our definition of majestic.

Sometimes needing several years to produce their brilliant best, they bloom as long as they’re able, which is sometimes just a day, a week, perhaps a month at most, then rest for the long winter. If damaged by caribou, moose or tourist, it may take years to recover the wound.

This level of productivity we might typically judge as insubstantial, flimsy–certainly not our definition of efficient or prolific.

Yet who among us could survive the throes of an alpine home?

Rocky Mountain National Park – National Park Service

How is it, then, these dainty fairies thrive amidst frozen, barren, wind-torn and rocky terrain? Read the rest of this entry →

Jul3

Making Fun

Posted on 07/03/2013 by Joan T Warren

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Humor. Humor has always been kind of a funny thing to me.

I like laughing, that’s for sure. I enjoy reading and hearing funny people. Then I try to be funny. That doesn’t always work so well. Maybe its that I’ve been living in the house with step-teens for the last ten years. Before that, a teen girl of my own. Somehow what I think is funny gets turned into “weird.” Read the rest of this entry →

Jun25

Deeply Rooted

Posted on 06/25/2013 by Joan T Warren

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There’s something about one’s heritage that runs deep. Be it genetic memory, collective unconscious, morphic fields, or some other forthcoming mechanism, I believe we encounter intangibles like values, interests and talents with innate responsivity that tends to override our conscious efforts.

When I was a child my family joked about our heritage, blended as it is, saying we were mutts or Heinz 57. Mostly, though, my ancestors were Read the rest of this entry →

Jun23

Song for the Unsung

Posted on 06/23/2013 by Joan T Warren

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This weekend we took a quick trip to visit Randy’s mama, Louise, as she recovers from hip surgery in a small town in western South Carolina. After spending the day with her, we hugged family goodbye, knowing someone was there with her as she fell asleep for the night. We enjoyed dinner with some family and headed to mama’s house to sleep. We fell asleep in freshly changed sheets, comfortable yet painfully aware that her battle is not over, and grateful that so many provide so much for her each day.

This morning, Randy walked through and around mama’s home. The place he grew up. A simple two bedroom-plus-den brick ranch home, still with its original bathrooms, kitchen cabinets and linoleum floor. The house is immaculate. The kitchen pantry efficiently shares its tiny space with the hot water heater. It is kept perfectly clean, stocked with all the usual basic needs, including the ever-present box of individually-wrapped raisin cream pies that countless grandchildren and now great-grandchildren scurry for when they visit. Which, by the way, is often. The refrigerator is neatly lined with their pictures and cards, one for “The Greatest Great-Grandmother in the World” hand-scribed in crayon. Out back, the chairs are neatly tucked ’round the patio table. Flowers bloom, those long-nurtured cuttings of red-hot pokers from his grandfather’s yard,

Mama’s Red-hot Pokers

transplanted here fifty years ago, accented by recent additions of assorted flowers in neatly lined pots along the driveway. The lawn is recently mowed, weeds at a minimum. Trees are groomed beautifully. A simple home, a precious place rich in memories, obviously well tended.

There is no way mama has been able to keep up any of this. Read the rest of this entry →

Jun15

Leaders, Followers and Fancy Footwork

Posted on 06/15/2013 by Joan T Warren

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Do you aspire to leadership? Are you a leader?

Are you a follower? Do you hope to be a follower?

Leadership is highly valued in our society. Following–not so much. Just as we’d never set out to become a drug addict, we don’t set out in life to become followers. Is this right? Can we all be leaders? Should we all? Is there anything wrong with being a follower? Read the rest of this entry →

Jun2

Attention, please!

Posted on 06/02/2013 by Joan T Warren

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Both in my work as a pediatric occupational therapist and in my personal life, the issue of attention surfaces daily.

I attend to all aspects of the children I work with as we engage in therapeutic activities. I attend to their physical status, such as muscle atrophy, spasticity, joint alignment, sensorimotor responses, coordination and endurance. I attend to their emotional status through each activity–is the baby grimacing, averting her gaze or engaging and approaching with interest? Is the toddler afraid, uncomfortable, shy, angry, tired. . . or happily attempting the challenge I’m bringing? The environment gets my attention as well: Is the room too noisy, cold, hot, visually distracting? Does the environment support or hinder the child’s performance? I notice the posture and position of the child, the furnishings, lighting, sound level, scents, and features of the materials we’re working with. All of this, and more, either support or hinder a child’s success. My attention to these details can help the child attend to the activity that, in turn, helps them meet developmental goals.

The child lives in a family. The family also needs attention. When working with children who have special health care needs, I’ve yet to meet a family member who didn’t need some special attention. Families need help as they adjust to, cope with and grow through parenting their special child. If I come into a home to provide therapy for a child and fail to attend to the family’s status that day, I have missed an opportunity to not only help the family member, but also to better help their child. A family member who is overwhelmed, tired, lonely, afraid, or depressed is better able to connect with, enjoy and help their child when their personal concerns are addressed. A family member excited about their child’s new achievement enjoys having someone to share the good news with. If a parent feels uneasy with anything I’m doing with their child, their concerns merit my attention. If I ignore or slight their concerns, I’ve failed to respect the child’s greatest support system in life, the parent. If I give parents the attention they need, we can work as a team. The child benefits from this teamwork as much as we do.

At home, there is more to attend to. Each family member needs attention. The house, the yard, the dog, the laundry, the dishes, the food supply, the mail, the . . . what have I forgotten? . . . all need attention. I need attention too! I need to attend to balancing work, rest and play, tomake time to exercise, socialize, reflect and create (all things that rejuvenate me). Sometimes I get so caught up in noticing and attending to all the needs around me that I neglect my own needs. When self-neglect persists, it renders me incapable of helping others.

So, I’ve been thinking about this need for attention. The word attend finds its origin in the Latin attendere, which means to notice, to bend to. Sensory systems are designed to notice. Peripheral vision reacts to a flutter of movement: What was that? Notice. Tiny hairs respond to light touch with fight or flight reaction: Was that a bug on me? Notice. Auditory systems translate sound wave vibrations: Was that my child’s cry? Notice. Bend to: Living things bend toward that which sustains life. Tender shoots grow through rocks and bend toward light. Grandparents bend to greet grandchildren, arms open wide. Lovers bend on one knee, to plead ‘be mine.’ Worshippers bend in adoration and appreciation for spirit revival. To attend, to notice, to bend to, is a natural and life-sustaining act. I would venture to guess that most of us feel emotionally nourished when someone notices and pays attention to us. Needing attention is not a fault, it is human.

Why, then, do we view the need for attention in a negative light? Read the rest of this entry →

May27

What does it mean? What does it matter?

Posted on 05/27/2013 by Joan T Warren

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What does it mean to live heart to heart in a shielded world? What does it matter?

Today I passed the television as it played to an empty room. Katie Couric’s show was on, a first for me. She interviewed teens who nearly lost their lives from designer drugs. A young man explained how he got into Molly (ecstasy, MDMA, reportedly in its purest form) and began selling it to support his habit: when he tried it, it made him “feel like telling all his secrets” to someone, and in less than hour with someone he felt a close bond, like he’d known them forever. Wow. Sounds like the drug intensified then satisfied a craving he didn’t even know he had–a craving for intimacy, a craving for authenticity, a craving for feeling open and close to another human being. It’s too bad he needed a drug to give him that, since the side effects are so disastrous.

Living heart to heart is perhaps a bit like Molly, except it is real, throughout, and there are no significant negative side-effects. Living heart to heart is Read the rest of this entry →

May24

Birth of a Blog: Heart to Heart

Posted on 05/24/2013 by Joan T Warren

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Somewhere around my fiftieth birthday I started thinking seriously about what I could still achieve in the fifteen to twenty years I had left in the work force, and hoping I’ll have many healthy years after that to pursue leisure, creative and volunteer activities. I set goals, then made some tough decisions and changes to help me reach those goals. As of this writing, five years have passed since then. Sometimes I feel I am no closer than I was, that unforeseen challenges have blocked progress. Time to stop and take stock.

What was I thinking? In these five years I started and finished a master’s degree, started my own business while maintaining my annual income, kept up a large percentage of maintaining our home and daily life, helped my husband’s business through four months during shortages of office manager, front desk and phone system meltdowns, managed the stress of helping a teen stepdaughter through some serious challenges (that shall remain confidential unless she consents to my sharing them), and gave a large portion of my time to nurture and care for my live-in step-granddaughter! Whew, and, now that I think of it, all while battling fibromyalgia and menopause! Not too shabby after all.

This brings me to why I began this blog. About twenty years ago I felt a Read the rest of this entry →