UCF

Along the Way. . .

Experiences, Insights & Humor on the “Long Road Home”

By Steven Maisenbacher

Walks On The Grass

Well, it’s a beautiful day, almost exactly like the one I’m gonna tell you about except today I don’t think I’ll run across any “UCF.” Now you may wonder, as I did what the heck UCF is. Of course we all (or some of us at least) know what “UFC” is: Ultimate Fighting Championship where  mixed martial artists get in a cage and go at it. Well, UCF is a bit different. Let me explain.

It was a perfect day weatherwise and I had decided to just go out to the yard directly from breakfast and enjoy the cool morning air on a few laps around the track. So I go eat, get my little oatmeal and some sort of cake-like substance that was or was not made more for punishment than culinary delight, and then off to the yard I go. On my way around the track I’m proceeding and its nice, I got the music playin thru my Mp3 player, (my money pit) and as I round the turn on the far side of the track I see a tiny cage-like thing set up off the track kinda towards the soccer field. It looked almost like a chicken-wire device people put around their plants to keep the rabbits off em.

Anyway, on closer scrutiny I see a bunch of movement and lookie here! There’s Booger kinda running around the cage thing, dropping from his hind legs to a kinda umpire-like stance, then bouncing back up and moving to the other side. So now I’ve just gotta go over there and check this out. But first I’ve gotta lean over and act like I’m tying my shoe so the cop in the perimeter truck won’t see me go over there and have his attention  drawn to it.  I don’t want to stir up any mess where Booger is cuz I already know at the first sign of trouble he will turn invisible and leave me standing there by myself looking stupid and prime to be the suspect for whatever shenanigans there may be in occurrence.

Yep, that’s Booger’s style, the little mutt. Anyway the truck goes on by and I start to amble on over and as I do I see the whole area around this cage-like thing is covered with these chattering little furry things and the closer I get I can start to make out that they are, you guessed it, chipmunks! So in the center of the cage there are a couple of these dang little fur balls no bigger than your hand, tussling, with Booger bouncing around the cage on the outside hollering encouragement and working the crowd of other chipmunks into a frenzy.

The combatants are the #1 ranked lightweight contender, “Eddie the Mauler” against the reigning champion, “The Furry Fury.” So they are fighting and the crowd of spectator chipmunks are going wild, or rather, wilder if that’s possible in a chipmunk’s existence.

So I say, “ HEY!!! Booger, what the heck is this?”

Booger looks at me and says, “Man, this is the premier event in the 2nd annual ULTIMATE CHIPMUNK FIGHTING and I’m both the promoter and the owner of the company! So you better just keep a touch of respect in that tone when you address me, mister!”

Then “poof” Booger vanishes and all the darn chipmunks scatter like leaves in a strong wind off the driveway. I’m looking around when I hear over a loud speaker, “Maisenbacher, step back onto the track and proceed to the recreation office, the soccer field is off limits at this time.”

So I know what’s up now. I’m probably gonna get chewed out for being in an “out of bounds” area, but that’s no big deal. What’s really concerning me right now is the fact that Booger has conceived and orchestrated a scenario that has, amongst other things, created situations where there is chipmunk on chipmunk violence, and he has done so all for profit. This is so like Booger.

I next see Booger when got back to the cell. He is as usual kicked back in the bunk, on my pillows, on my bed, reading a magazine of some sort. 

“Booger! What is wrong with you?” I was furious, “Ya make a dang ultimate chipmunk fight club, then ya take the money from those little furry fools while those clowns beat the stripes off each other! And what’s worse, you disappear when the cops show up!”

He looks at me and says, “DUDE, chill out, I got us some doggie treats out of it, and oh, I used the money to buy my gal, Candy the cat some tuna steaks. Yeah, man, nothin’ but the best for my lady.” Then he has the nerve to say, “And Walks, you’re ‘harshin’ my vibe.’”

Totally Booger and as for his Ultimate Chipmunk Fighting, I think he just did it for the money, that’s Booger for ya.

© Steven “Walks On The Grass” Maisenbacher, 2021

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Snake Dances

The Creeks and Their Dances (7)

By Ghost Dancer

Snake Clan is well known as a warrior clan and spiritual clan. Their role is one of strength and power and this is reflected in each of the distinct types of dances they conduct and oversee. The varied Snake Dances serve very different purposes so we will discuss each of them. Unlike some other cultures which feared and abhorred snakes, they were not looked at as being cursed or evil by the Southeastern tribes. Quite the opposite. Our stories and imagery are filled with tie snakes, winged serpents, rattlesnakes and water moccasins. Snakes were treated with respect and honor.

This first Snake Dance is a couple’s dance and courtship dance. If you have ever seen snakes do a courtship ritual, you will understand the parallel sensual dance that happens deep in the night, by the light of the fire, when the old ones and children are fast asleep. With upper bodies painted to resemble the different snakes and only the lower torso covered, the couples move in rhythm with the drum, mimicking the snake spirit. This type of snake dance is rare in modern times, but was common in the old days.

The second Snake Dance seeks knowledge from the snakes who are rulers of the underworld, the unseen. It is performed by those seeking to learn the mystical secrets of the earth and walking in between worlds through spirit travel. In the old days, many poisonous plants and even venoms were used to seek higher knowledge. Living in a world filled with poisonous plants, insects, and snakes it was imperative for the people to protect themselves and their babies from harm. Healers knew the art of diluting venoms and poisons and administering them in tiny doses to build immunity, so the dancers were afforded this protection.

In the dance, live snakes are tied to the arms of the dancer with braided grass and the dancer holds them in each hand. The snakes are poisonous, but they are being handled with love and respect. Dancing in rhythm with the drum, the dancer seeks to bind together and become one with the snakes in this dance of life and death. If the dancer is bitten, it will only hasten the desired feeling of leaving the physical body, letting the spirit free to travel. The dance continues until the dancers are all laying down. The snakes will be respectfully and gently taken away and released while the spirit of the dancer travels to wherever it needs to go to finds the answers sought in the ceremony.

The third Snake Dance Ceremony is of utmost importance to the entire community and is danced by members of the Snake Clan. The dance gives respect and honor to all the snakes for the gifts and protections they provide for all life as hunters, warriors, healers, trackers, and teachers.

The Snake Clan members dress in their finest regalia and wear head dresses fashioned to look like the snake they represent: the winged serpent, tie-snake, rattlesnake, water moccasin, black snake, green snake, coral snake, and all the other snakes. Moving in a single line to the rhythm of rattles, they are led by the winged serpent and then the rattlesnake, the dancers make their way through the whole town, between each home and building, around the ball field and the community garden fields. Along the way, the people toss tobacco, cedar, and tidbits of berries as gifts and offerings to the snake. Everyone understands that the Snake People protect all sacred places and the Snake Dance ceremony symbolizes the people’s gratitude to the snake for protecting them from diseases and those that try to sneak an attack in any form or way.

Respectfully, Ghost

Ghost Dancer July 2017 ©

Index/Links Ghost Dancer’s Page

Memories

Along the Way. . .

Experiences, Insights & Humor on the “Long Road Home”

By Steven Maisenbacher

Walks On The Grass

I am not sure where they go or how they are stored in our minds, but I am amazed at the things I can remember and the flashes of things that stand out when I let my mind wander thru my memories. For instance, I remember the cold of an Illinois winter and trying to ride my crazy car. It was a 3-wheeled device you sat in and propelled with the turning by hand of these 2 big wheels on the sides of you. It was yellow and the 2 big wheels you sat recumbently between were bright red with these handles you kinda rowed. Anyway, I remember trying to ride it thru the snow and ice on a sidewalk. I may have been 7 or 8.

I remember my 9th birthday. The night of July 20th, 1969, my dad took my brother Bob and me to Shaheen’s dirt track to watch the sprint cars. It was a balmy night with a huge moon. I remember it like yesterday, the sights the conversations, the smells, it was a magical night for a little boy when the race announcer said Hey!! Look up there at that moon!! That man is waving at us! It was the night that Neil Armstrong took the steps and made his famous “One small step for man, one giant step for mankind” speech. I remember snippets and snatches of things, mostly just kid stuff.  What is hardest for me to remember are the moments leading up to and the moments of when I was doing bad things, the kinds of things that led me to this life and this prison.

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I think maybe it’s because I don’t want to remember those things, or those moments, I don’t want to re-live the trauma and horror of the actions I committed.  I don’t want to face the faces of terror that I subjected other humans, innocent humans too. I only want to beg their forgiveness and move on with my life, my upcoming release.

It’s not like I haven’t been making new memories, good ones. I have. There’s the secret feeling of accomplishment when I won the administrative remedy I had to file in order to get “Native American history” passed as an accepted curriculum here in the B.O.P. Then the further wonderful feeling of actually putting the sign in sheets out and having the desire for my class be so great in the institution that I had to give the course twice, back to back, when they limited the class to 30 and I had over 100 inmates sign up wanting to take the class that “that old Indian guy” was teaching. This to me is a memory, and a good one.

I remember how good it felt and how the accomplishment of doing something that I felt was important and needed to be done cloaked me with a certain self-joy that I can only describe as “better than drugs,” the same feeling I get in the renewal of my strength, spirit and convictions after a good hot sweat lodge ceremony, or the feeling I get when I hear someone I care about tell me they love me, and even as much as the feeling I enjoy when I’m unashamedly able to say “I love you” back.

Its things like this and the memories they make in our minds that are strong enough to taste and feel. I cannot tell you what it feels like to have a new car, or a nice place to live of my own, or the simple security that would (I’m sure) come from knowing that you had the means and funds to pay rent and get food. These are memories I would like to someday make, and with Tunkashila’s blessings I will. But until then I guess I will just revel in the abandon that is my old/new memories, taking solace in the ability to find the value and the beauty of the simple fact that I can “conjure” them up when I’m in need of a smile and there’s no one around to help me out with the loan of a grin or two.

Some say of the time in here there isn’t anything to smile about. I say bull dookie to that, if you are alive, if you have the ability to reach inside your mind and pluck out something that made you feel good and of worth, that made you smile and sort of laugh, then there is something to smile about, and that something is you.

The amazing things you are capable of, the wonder of it all, your ability to overcome adversity, to beat down the fears and anxieties that come with life and make yourself “grow thru it, and smile when you have. I  Steven “Walks On The Grass” Maisenbacher say there is something to smile about, and I think we all owe debts of gratitude to our “memories.”

I think I’ll try to remember that…

© Steven “Walks On The Grass” Maisenbacher, 2021

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Alligator Dance

The Creeks and Their Dances (6)

By Ghost Dancer

Ghost Dancer

The alligator dance is one of the most beautiful, sensual, and time-honored dances of the old days. Alligator is a powerful war clan of the people; an ancient totem spirit and an ancient elder of life from the oldest days.

Ceremonially, young men passed into manhood after going through all the warrior’s training and completing many difficult tasks. For the final test, the young men would now face their most important challenge by dancing with the alligator and defeating it in water and on land.

Boys in warrior training learned ways to subdue the alligator, but at this time the young man would carry out this dangerous feat all alone; he would bring the alligator up to the land from deep water all on his own, and then when he and the gator have rested, he needed to defeat it on land as well in front of the people! Each young man knew that alligator was more powerful, bigger, faster, and more at home in and or out of the water than he was, so this was a dance of life and death; to conquer his fear of a greater warrior than himself. Modern day alligator wrestling evolved from this ancient rite of passage.

When the young men passed this test, they became members of the warrior society. This means they were able to take a wife, to sit in on all discussions, and had a right to speak as a warrior. The alligator was also honored to have been part of these things and gifts of food were offered to them. A great feast and celebration would be held and all the neighboring towns and villages were invited to witness these young peoples’ passage into becoming warriors.

Now the alligator dance would be held and courtship was the prime objective. All the young men who had become warriors were being attended, instructed, and prepared by their clan mothers.

At this time the young warriors let the clan mothers know what young women they were interested in. The clan mothers would send a representative to the young women’s clan to see if they were in agreement, and they would then check the clans’ background of ancestors to be sure there were no close blood relations.

The girl’s clan mother, grandmother and mother, consulted the girl as to whom she might be interested in. Remember, the girl’s clan is looking out for the best interest, not only for the girl, but for the clan. Sometimes the selection of mates benefitted both clans and tied them together more closely. Once these things were known and agreements were made and approved, if the girl so chooses, she can accept the young man’s advances during the dance, and agree to be his wife if he asks her.

If no agreement has been reached, the young men are free to just dance with all the girls and have fun; the girls may also choose to only dance, but not agree to be chosen as a wife just yet.

Preparations for the dance

The young man has been prepared by his family. He wears an alligator skin that has been tanned and scented to be natural. His body has been cleaned and oiled and scented with a love potion given to him by a medicine person to help win the heart of a young woman. He has been practicing the alligator song he will sing to the girl of his choice if he is chosen and accepted by her.

Wearing only the alligator skin and a breech cloth, the young warrior begins taking on the spirit of the alligator; his mind totally focused on calling forth the spirit of the alligator which lives in this skin he now wears.

Meanwhile the young women are all doing the same; being instructed by their mothers, aunts, grandmothers and clan mother; their hair is combed and scented with oils extracted from the flowers, berries and nuts of their own personal choices. Their bodies are also scented with these same oils and perfumes. They too will put on the alligator skins and call forth the powerful spirit of these female alligators. Beneath the skins they wear only a yellow buckskin skirt. They can hear the young men’s bull gator bellows across the way and they too start practicing their gator song. .

The Alligator Dance

The caller calls forth the women to enter the square. Following a slow drum beat, the women dance into the square, one by one, moving counter clockwise in a swaying rhythm motion as if they are actually swimming, their tails swinging behind them. They dance this way four times around the square.

The caller then calls forth the warriors and they enter, moving their bodies as they dance, swaying as the alligator does; swimming in time with the drum, counter clockwise four times around the square.

Now the women begin the female alligator songs as they dance around the square; the men follow, and in a separate circle, begin their own alligator songs. Four times they dance around together, showing off their powers, gifts, and charms.

Then the drum slows and the women allow the men to approach; if she accepts the man’s advance, they dance away together, if not she turns aside and the male moves on. Acceptance does not necessarily mean that they intend to marry; only that she accepts him to dance. The beauty of this dance is that everyone gets to dance with someone. There are always plenty of women and men to participate. 

Now when a woman has accepted the male, she turns toward him and dances backward, her tail now drags between her legs. The man embraces her and they dance as one, still with movements of the alligator swimming. Now this is not easily done. The man has to guide her but take care not to step on her tail either. Of course, this does happen sometimes – by accident or just to get the laughter going – and it causes them to fall. This is life. This is the life and power of the alligator, this is strength and power invoked to everyone dancing, and into the new life that will be born from the marriages consummated later on. This dance pays honor to one of the most powerful beings of ancient times that still live amongst us. This is powerful medicine, for it makes our people strong and assures that we will survive just as our relative the alligator has survived. This is the dance of alligator.

Respectfully, Ghost

Ghost Dancer July 2017 ©

Index/Links on Ghost Dancer’s Page

A Boy and His Sled

Along the Way. . .

Experiences, Insights & Humor on the “Long Road Home”

By Steven Maisenbacher

Walks On The Grass

Once upon a time along the way, I had a little winter fun in Gilmer, West Virginia. Yes, it was cold as heck there, see it’s nestled in the mountains of West by god Virginia, and when I say nestled I mean just that. Imagine the top of a mountain being scooped off and then a huge bowl dug out of it, so now you have “nestled”  or some such thing. The joint was definitely dug into the mountain. On the yard at the fence there was the security road, then a cliff that went from about 50 feet to 200 feet, with this ravine that ran down from the top of a hill. The deer and the tom turkeys and their harems would parade thru daily like there wasn’t an 1800 man federal facility not 100 feet away and down a little bit. The compound was kind of slanted with the rec yard being on one side then the SHU on the right of it, then R and D, medical, and the lieutenant’s office next to the gate into the compound. Then the visiting complex, education and the chapel. Now from the chapel there’s a nice little hill sloping downwards to a long wall next to the commissary, food service and the chow hall. The cell blocks are directly across and set back into the area, so the whole of the compound is actually set up as a huge triangle.

Well, back to the scene of the crime! See as I was saying it was cold, super cold, the kind of cold that when the wind got to whipping around in this little dipped in area everything froze, and stayed frozen long after the sun came out. Now add the snow on the ground, several inches, by this time mostly tracked thru but still some pristine areas of it like the one we are going to be violating in about 3. 2. 1… 

So, there are these garbage carts, see – those big Rubbermaid things shaped like a dumpster with wheels for pushing around the compound for trash men to fill. They kept these carts on a patio up on the deck by the chapel at the top of that 95-ft slope I mentioned, going down to the commissary wall at a 45 degree angle. Smile… Oh wait did I forget to tell you?  Yeppers, I sure did, these trash buggy-dumpsters had these big ole lids that just sat on top of the buggy, and folded open in the middle. like you guessed it, the perfect toboggan, so you know it had to happen!

I’m standing on the deck smoking a cigarette (yes, a nasty habit, I gave up decades ago) waiting to get into the chapel. So I look over, thinking…hmmmm, bet that lid would be like a sled and I bet that hill would be a blast to sled down…hey…no one out here but me… I finish the smoke… You know what I did then! Yep! Down I go, but little do I know that the compound lieutenant had just stepped out of his office door the very second my “sled” and I launch our descent. WWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Hey!!! What the @U&% do you think you’re doing? Get up here now! Put your hands behind your back!”

Then he gets on the radio: “Compound lieutenant to the SHU, soon to be on your door with one.”

Me, I’m laughing hilariously while he is frog-marching me to the hole all for a little sled fun in the snow. I mean what is this guy like? Un-American or some sort of monster that he couldn’t see the humor in the situation? So the answer to that became obvious very soon when they are stripping me and dressing me in a jumpsuit, taking me to a cell, yep, locking me in the cell, and I’ll be darned, not a one of these jerks thought it was funny! Damn, here it is the week before Christmas and now I’m in the hole because I just ain’t got good sense and couldn’t control an impulse to have a little fun.

Well folks, that’s me, story of my life, see-want-do. Crazy as it seems I wasn’t mad at all about it. I just knew someone was going to see the silliness and let me out. Well, four days later when the administrators came thru on their weekly zoo review (where they look in all the cells and ask if you are alright, like it would matter if you said no) here comes the captain.

“Maisenbacher! What are you doing in there? What did you do?”

“Well Cap, it’s like this, you know those lids on the trash buggies, yes? Well I couldn’t help it Cap…I got on one and rode down the hill by the chapel like a sled and the lieutenant saw me and didn’t see the situation like I did, so he locked me up.”

“He did, did he? I’ll be right back.”

Then here he comes with the cop, they tell me to cuff up, get me out, take me up front and dress me in my clothes.

Then the Captain tells me “Don’t you ever sled down the hill in my prison again…now get out of my hole – locked you up for sledding, I’ll take care of him – go back to your unit Maisenbacher.”

So there it is, the story of a boy and his sled. So what if the sled was a dumpster lid and so what if the boy was like 43 at the time, it’s still a true crime story. And yes, if you must know, it was worth all 4 of the days I spent in the hole for doing it, just so I could tell you this story – hardened criminal that they say I am. Smile.

© Steven Walks On The Grass, 2021

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Beautiful Bird Dances

The Creeks and Their Dances (5)

November 13, 2021

By Ghost Dancer

THE FLAMINGO DANCE is a beautiful dance. If you have ever seen flamingos, you will know that their long, fluffy feathers are a soft pink in color. Dancers place these feathers on the arms, legs, and top of their heads. The dance is drummed at one and one-half beat rhythm. Males line up opposite the females and the dance begins with dancing in place, while bending forward with their necks and heads rubbing one another. Then at the sound of a hard beat on the drum, the dancers will leap into the air as the flamingo does. They flap their wings and bump their chests together. When the dancers hit the ground, they continue the dance with arms outstretched, and spin around in harmony with one another. Then they go back to the neck and head rubbing to start the sequence over again.

THE HERON DANCE is much older, but similar to the Flamingo Dance, except the dancers are adorned with blue heron feathers. The biggest difference in the Heron Dance is that when the couple jump up together, they hug, wrapping the feathers around each other, and spin while in the air. When they land, they separate. This is known as the heron’s love embrace. When herons are mating they stomp their feet to get the attention of the other, so this dance has a lot more jumping and being airborne.

THE PHEASANT DANCE: Now the pheasant is a very colorful bird, and its dance is one of beauty and skilled agility. This dance has a very fast beat. The dancers wear the headdress of pheasant feathers with lots of tail feathers extended out and wings on their arms. Jumping and spinning, the dancers leap up and lay out in the air like the pheasant does as it takes off in flight. Their feet come down and they do it all again. The pheasant is known for its colorful courtship dance, so when the beat starts to go faster, the dancers begin their roosters strut, showing off their athletic abilities and all their beautiful feathers. Mock challenges between dancers represent the struggle of the battle for the right to court the females, just as a pheasant does. With heads lowered and shoulder and neck feathers fluffed up, the dancers circle one another, and then leaping in the air, they throw their feet at each other. This dance goes on for as long as the drum continues playing. The females love watching this dance for they know the males are dancing for them.

Bird dances are conducted by the Bird Clan and are done to receive the bird’s gift of dance and the beauty and power of its courtship.

Respectfully, Ghost

Ghost Dancer July 2017 ©

Index/Links on Ghost Dancer’s Page

Homeless

Along the Way. . .

Experiences, Insights & Humor on the “Long Road Home”

By Steven Maisenbacher

Walks On The Grass

I am homeless.

After nearly 37 years of captivity, when I get out of prison I will go to a halfway house for a while. After that I will have nowhere to go, homeless. This fact is increasingly bothersome to me. See I have always prided myself on not needing anything from anyone and kind of had an “I’ll get it for myself” attitude. But this won’t be the case anymore. I am now older, I have several disabilities that will make it very hard for me to work and even harder to work in the field I have the most training in because not many manufacturing facilities exist where I’m being sent.

I may, no, I will have to count on others for help. I am going to have to count on Social Security to assist me in living with the disabilities; I will need medical insurance to cover my medicines and I most certainly will need help securing housing.  

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But I also want to go back to college for a degree in social work so I will be able to counsel and mentor others with addictions or criminal problems. I will need help with that too in the form of scholarships or grants to help with books, travel to and from, and food. All these things I am going to need help with.

So the reality is occurring to me that regardless of the fact that I will be free from prison, I will still be in captivity in another way. I will be at the mercy of my “needs” and not truly able to fend for myself for any of the things that make me know I am going to be ok.

Yes, I definitely have goals and dreams, but I must ask myself if I am making these goals and dreams simply because they will provide me and excuse to get help in securing my needs or am I really and truly wanting and desiring the things I tell myself and others I want and need?

I find that the closer I get to freedom, the further I seem to be from being self-reliant, and this is discomfiting to me. I need to know I can do this on my own, but the simple fact is I can’t unless “on my own” is defined as taking advantage of everything that is available to those who “need” such as the assistance programs and the educational assistances and all the other “assistances” I will “need.”

So  it seems that the less I like the fact of being unable to provide for my every need, the more I will have to get used to it. See when I asked a person in a recent phone call, for a future favor, they said they couldn’t commit to anything. This made me feel awkward in the asking for something that I’d “need.” I will find a way but still, I will “need” and how I have come to hate that word.

I know that I have a fair amount of intelligence. Even if my grammar and punctuation do stink, I have still managed to figure out how to unscramble this mess of letters and convey what I’m thinking in a manner that others can read and understand. My dyslexia is still with me so I sometimes feel as  if I’m translating in my mind from “my” language into another language that I only speak because I “need” to, in order to communicate. There’s that dang word and fact again, “need.” I have kind of been mulling over this for a week or so and I have to get this out in hopes that it will cleanse me of the feeling it leaves me with every time I think about it.

I guess things have come down to this: I have to accept the fact that even though I have planned for this day, I will “need” help and I will need to humble myself and stop with the self-isolation. I will need help in learning how to live in the world again.

So, as always, here we are at now. I have to accept the fact that I need help, and I also have to appreciate the fact that help is available and I will be grateful to receive any help that is out there.

I must also continue to seek humility and know that “needing” help is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed by. Needs. We’ve all got them, and when you are like me, homeless, you may have a lot of them.

© Steven “Walks On The Grass” Maisenbacher, 2021

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Then Everyone is Gone But Me

Along the Way…

Experiences, Insights & Humor on the “Long Road Home”

November 9, 2021

By Steven Maisenbacher

Walks On The Grass

I have to say this, I am always glad when my friends get to go home before me. But what a lot of you may not know about me is the fact that I have separation anxiety of a sort, as well as PTSD.  About a decade ago I went to psychology services to speak to them over some things that had started going on that were bothering me. It seems that all my life people have left me, or gone away, for whatever reason, and it is evident that now in prison it happens more than you would think. See in here you develop friendships and bonds; they grow strong because the people you are cool with in here are the very same people who may save your life in a situation, who offer friendship, someone to talk to when your down, or to share a meal with, or to walk the yard with, or to just hang out with, then…transfer, release or whatever and they are gone and it always seems like a part of you goes with them.

Prisoner

There’s all the, “Oh, we will stay in touch” or the “I’m gonna send you this and that” and all… but only a handful of times has that ever actually happened, in fact, most often it’s out of sight, out of mind.

It’s bothersome, so as I said, I was kind of freakin’ out about what I didn’t know, so I went and talked to the people in psychology and while they couldn’t offer a solution, they were quick to “diagnose.” (I’m surprised they didn’t offer me a puzzle, but that’s another story.) I was not sleeping then I’d all of a sudden get real anxious and start freakin out. I’d get nervous and worried and withdraw and depressed and just was a mega-mess; couldn’t concentrate, didn’t want to do the things I normally love to do. I just felt all sorts of crazy things that are not normal for me.

So I’m explaining to the lady that while I still had several years to go at the time I was concerned that the world had advanced so far so fast without me being in it that I wouldn’t have any place in it except maybe here in prison. But that is the one place I didn’t want to be anymore and that every time I made a friend or every time I got close to someone they ended up leaving me behind, moving on to better things or not, but moving on, nonetheless.

So she came out with, “It seems you are going thru the effects of separation  anxiety, where you feel like you’re abandoned and all that when the people around you move on, as well as some PTSD due to the fact that you have spent most of your life living behind razor wire in prisons and under sub-normal conditions so that now its seemingly normal to you, and the thought of being released has these feelings and fears coming to the forefront.”

OK, makes sense, I’ve watched at least 75 friends and associates walk off either home or to another spot. I’ve seen men die due to lack of proper or timely medical attention. I’ve seen just about every juxtaposition of the “everyone is gone” thing that you could imagine, so it makes sense that that has somehow gone from good for them to bad for me in my mind.  You’ve got to understand, I just am not like other people. After all, I was born broken, and everything since that moment has been either a continuation of that bad beginning, or my self-healing in spite of it. So there might be a special curve to go by in relation to what I can be expected to do, think or feel. I’m just saying.

I ain’t looking for no pity, or any “Aw, poor Walks, here need a hug” crud. I’m just putting this out there for the whole whomever to see, that with my own words I have surgically removed the worry and frustration of separation anxiety and PTSD disorder like the cancer it can be from my mind and thoughts. I don’t like to lose sleep, especially over something I may be able to fix. So there it is, seems like every time I turn around someone is leaving me and I’m getting ready to be the one who leaves in a matter of months. And now that I know and I’m writing this, maybe my leaving will be a little less frightening to me, because I’m darned sure afraid. Just like an adventurer has fears about an upcoming expedition, this is all going to be an adventure. Just hope I bring the right tools…

© Steven “Walks On The Grass” Maisenbacher, 2021

Walks’ Home Page

Traditional Native Family Values

Reflections for Native American Month

By Ghost Dancer

“Dancers” – Art by Micco Bobby Johns Bearheart

In reflecting on traditional Native family values and practices, it occurs to me that most families now days are dysfunctional and always bickering. Many families are broken up, separated and never experience a true loving family. Even now days, the young families forget about their parents who now are older and needing help. These things I think about; it is very disturbing and hurts my heart.

Traditionally Native Peoples practiced and believed in the family. Love was something every member received, gave and lived every single day of their lives. Each member would always check on the elders of the family, making sure they had everything they possibly could need. The elders lived with them and helped by teaching the children the stories, legends, and history of the family and the people. In these stories they also were sharing the moral values of the family, the band, clan, and the tribe.

Many grandmothers passed down secrets of the crafts and skills to the grandchildren and great grandchildren at night. Night time was the time to share these things, and also during bad weather and winter times. The children learned that their mother was also extended; every single female in the tribe was their mother and the older ones were the child’s grandmothers and aunties. The child was shown so much love and attention that it was a true blessing. Loyalty to the family first was always and foremost in every family; clan next, then tribe or nation.

Today there is just too much technology; children are drawn away from family life from too much TV, video games, computers, etc. Children are not taught Respect, Honor, Courage, Truth, Generosity, Humbleness, and LOVE! The school system is even designed now to tear our family systems down. They encourage and even manipulate the children to turn against their parents. Many of the video games teach the wrong set of morals and some teach they should not have any morals.

It is the same now days with the husbands and wives. In today’s society it is taught and even accepted that it is normal to desert, cheat, disrespect, neglect, ignore, and just not care about each other. TV and many other influences are responsible, but mostly it is society’s acceptance of these terrible practices.

Traditionally these things could never and would never be allowed or practiced. A marriage is sacred. It is a commitment of two people who give vows or words that say always and forever. Marriage requires LOVE, understanding, giving, and making sacrifices. A marriage is a lot like making the decision to be a parent; it requires a lot of time, hard work, patience, and compromise. But Love is the main ingredient in a marriage and in being a parent and having a family.

Traditionally Native peoples are a loving people. We love all life, beauty, happiness, and our world. Even though many suffer hardships now, with very little to live on, family is what holds us together. Family is our strength and our weakness. It is our strength because of the love, closeness, and togetherness; our weakness because we generally follow in the footsteps of members of our families.

If our parents or brothers or sisters fall into bad habits, doing bad things, then generally we do too because we do what we see, what we are brought up in.

So people, open your eyes and hearts and look closely around you. Every single thing we do reflects, programs, and affects others around us too. If we practice tradition and live in LOVE, give love, then love will be in all those around us. If we truly love, the lives of each of our family, friends, and those around us will be rewarded and enriched always. Our children will grow up wanting this love and enjoying it and they too will be like us later in life.

LOVE is the key, Ghost

Ghost Dancer © 2014 Reprint from 2014

Index on Ghost’s Page

Owl Dance

The Creeks and Their Dances (4)

By Ghost Dancer

Ghost Dancer

One big misconception about our traditions is the owl. Many tribes west of the Mississippi  fear the owl as bad medicine (a bad sign). To us the owl is very wise and sees things that others don’t see, has the ability to see into the darkness. Mainly we see the owl as a messenger, a very powerful messenger.

The owl is commonly known as foretelling of someone dying. This scares many but traditionally we natives do not fear death for it is just another part of our cycle, our balance, and we all know we will be reborn and begin a new life and form.

Now those that practice to become seekers of knowledge and spiritual advancement and gifts, welcome the gift of the owl.  Many keep the feathers or an owl’s dried body in their sacred areas. This is so they will know the intentions of any who enter the sacred areas. The owl also is a warning system at night when enemies may try to sneak in to your area. They are always welcome around our towns and villages.

The owl dance is a ceremonial dance. It is not for just everyone, only for those who seek the path of spiritual advancement. The dance is used to call forth the spirit of the owl to come and help the dancer. Dancers are staked to the earth and dance with the sister root, a highly poisonous plant that is used to go quickly to the spirit world, to guard their bodies while they spirit travel. I only tell you this so you understand the position and importance of the owl in our tradition.

A spiritual teacher conducts this ceremony and prepares the special root. A circle is drawn and a wooden stake with a leather thong is placed in the circle. The circle is then sprinkled with the cedar leaves. Poles that have owl feathers and claws are placed in each the four cardinal directions.

The one(s) seeking the medicine of the owl have owl headdress on and owl wings on their shoulders.  Their eyes are painted to look bigger like the owls do. Symbols of the first quarter moon and last quarter moon are painted one on each side of the body . As an owl call is being made the dancer(s) begin dancing around the circle. As they do, the spiritual teacher begins stirring a paste of the special sacred root. After the dancer(s) has completed 4 complete circles, the dancer sits down and the drum begins a very slow, slow heart beat. The spiritual teacher now sings an owl song and begins putting the paste from the special sacred root on the dancer’s temples and then a tiny bit to swallow. He then takes the thong that is tied to the stake and ties it to the wrist of the dancer. This is so the dancer has tie (symbolic cord ) back to the dancer’s body s the dancer’s spirit begins to travel outward. This helps the dancer find the way back.

 the drum beat becomes slower and slower and the owl calls deep into another world. The dancer will feel the true spirit leaving the fleshly body and will see the body sitting there as it hovers momentarily, then it begins to travel where it needs to go. 

Just want you to know the importance of the Owl Dance because it too is a connection to other worlds as well as to this one and it is a balance that must be completed.

© Ghost Dancer 2017

Index on Ghost Dancer’s Page