True Names

By Edna Peirce Dixon

When I was growing up, I thought my name, Edna, was the ugliest name in the world. I wondered why my parents couldn’t have given me a pretty name. It sounds so harsh at best, and with me being me, from the tone frequently heard, Edna rang in my young ears like a “four-letter” word. Still today I wince a little when someone calls me by my name.

I liked my middle name well enough, Catharine, a tribute to my grandmother. Over the years I had seen enough of the “Edna-mother-in-law” jokes and cartoons and thought about making a switch. But somehow I never mustered the will to start introducing myself as Catharine and no nickname for it worked for me either.

By the time my mid-40s rolled around I had enrolled in college, and here, rather late in the game, I discovered a love of language and creative writing. At some point I had already read the works of Edna Ferber and Edna St. Vincent Millay and wondered how they felt about their names. Only when I began thinking of myself as a potential writer did I begin to realize that just maybe my name might be seen from a different point of view, as a strong woman’s name, perhaps. It would take some time for me to actually feel confidence enough to emotionally claim the power in my name, but it was a start.

As I would later learn, in Native American traditions, names also hold power and meaning. Throughout a person’s life, as they grow from a child, through adulthood, and on to become a mature elder, there may be several name changes which reflect the growth and attributes of the individual. Most special of all are names gifted to honor earned positions of valor, good deeds, or wisdom of individuals within the community.

In my late 50s, when I first started working with my friend, Bearheart, founder of the Perdido Bay Tribe, I knew nothing about Native naming practices. When he gave me the name, “Wordweaver,” I liked that it reflected the work I did in service to helping him build his dream. The people I met in the Creek Indian community came to know me as Wordweaver. After some ten years I asked Bearheart for a name that spoke more to who I was as a person, rather than the work I did.

He said he would think about it. Months passed; I thought he had forgotten. Then one day his answer came in an email. “Sings Many Songs” was the name Bearheart gave me. He said the name was to honor the prayers (as in songs) I had lived out in my dedication to his people who were not my people by heritage. His mission was to help all people better appreciate Southeastern Creek history and culture and the name he gave me honored my part in the many educational projects I worked on.

Living at a distance, there was never an opportunity for a formal naming ceremony. No introductions of any kind were made and I truly didn’t know what to do with this name so filled with beauty and meaning. To the people I knew I would always be Wordweaver so I gently packed the name away and waited. In fact after Bearheart crossed over and I retired, I packed both names away thinking that era of my life was over.

Wasn’t long though before fate brought me in contact with Ghost Dancer and life took a new direction and new purpose. This would be a spiritual journey – a time of learning, reaching for deeper knowledge, venturing into strange new territory on a warrior’s path headed toward controversy, activism and action. Only then did the new name start making sense but this was not the time for such concerns. My voice would need to be as strong as possible; I needed my power name, Edna.

A few years later, Ghost introduced me to another warrior fighting his own battles, Steven Walks On The Grass. His friends all call him “Walks.” The purpose of the introduction was the discovery that Walks’ late mother and I happened to share the same maiden name. A little genealogy research proved we are indeed distant cousins through our shared Pennsylvania Quaker Pierce/Peirce family ancestry. Walks and I hit it off from the start and somehow I just knew the time was right, so I told him my gifted Native name was Sings Many Songs. In my mind at least, I hoped he might let me stand in for the mother he so loved and lost; maybe fill that hole a little bit. Walks immediately responded by calling me “Sings.” Together we have been walking a path of trust, friendship and kinship ever since, and every time I hear Walks speak my name I feel honored.

Lessons Learned:

The power of a strong name is the challenge to become stronger as you strive to live up to it. I am grateful my parents gave me a strong name.

The joy of holding a gifted Native name is in knowing it’s a sacred honor with deeply personal meaning. It isn’t meant for everyone to know or speak. Hearing such a name spoken with loving kindness by one who understands makes the old heart sing.

The important thing is, whatever name or names we have been given, it is incumbent upon all of us to give that name meaning and to bring honor to those who gave it to us. It is for us to learn who we are and honor our journey by telling our stories with truth and loving kindness.

Edna Sings Many Songs

Soliloquy

on the hopes and dreams of a lifetime…

By Edna Peirce Dixon

September 12, 2014

I have reached an age when society thinks of me as old, and in truth, with each passing year the realm of possibilities seems to grow smaller and smaller; the obstacles in my path grow larger and larger. Even as I strive to be content with what is and to be grateful for the good memories, I sometimes remember with bittersweet tears, the promise of what might have been – those youthful, nebulous dreams of long ago, so impractical, so vague they held no value to any but me alone – never fostered, never honored, never fulfilled, and never will be.

But then again, I consider more carefully the gifts and abilities I use every day and a new reality comes clear. It occurs to me that just maybe a lifetime of trials and errors, passions formed, and skills developed was itself the preparation needed to bring focus to that nebulous goal of my childhood. Just maybe the promise of that dream IS indeed the selfsame path I walk after all these years. Have I come full circle or am I just beginning?

November 5, 2022 – Old musings from 76. . .still finding new beginnings at 84.

Truthfully, I’ve had this in my queue for months and forgot about it… So I’m forgetful sometimes. Don’t judge… I’ve been busy.

Choosing Happiness

By Eric R. Dixon

I like waking up at Reflection Tree Art Farm and saying Hi to the neighbors

At this point in my life I don’t feel the need to be someone else. I do not need to pretend to be younger or smarter or wealthier than I am. I have lived an amazing and interesting life and I have built many wonderful memories. Having lost my wife with whom I would have blissfully spent the rest of my life, I could retreat into my shell.

There is a fear of moving forward that could close all doors. Fear of losing again, fear of pain that might happen blocks the doorway. Fear is a poison that I can choose whether to drink or not. I will not engage it. I will not drink that poison. I will take care of my fear and soothe it like a crying baby.

I will choose to be happy. Happiness is a state of mind. I can be and have been miserable in the most amazing places and full of joy in the worst. Unhappiness can create a terrible wall around you that separates you from what you most desire. Happiness is the key to the door of that wall. When you have that key you can swing the door open. With the door open you do not have to seek anything. It will seek you.

In loving memory of my beloved Aimee.

Happiness is what we both wanted for one another.

Reflection Tree Art Farm

In Remembrance

Skepticism

Step Into The Light

November 3, 2022

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Walks On The Grass

I want to talk this morning briefly. I’ve just concluded my prayers and I’m sitting outside. It’s 5:39 a.m. I want to say something about being skeptical. I’m rapidly finding out here in this world that everyone is skeptical and suspicious and paranoid about almost everything and everyone. It’s almost as if when you walk by somebody you’re a suspect or they’re a suspect. You never know what their agenda is, you never give them the benefit of the doubt. It’s crazy.

I’m finding this in everyday life too. I go to the bus stop and people look at me crazy. I look at them crazy, wondering if this person is going to try and rob me. Is this person a bad person? What was her life like? Where are they from and who are they? What do they believe? Do they have love in their heart? Do they have love in their life or have they loved? Have they suffered tragic losses, devastating shames, oppression or have they had a content, purposeful, fulfilled life?

Me, I would say that although I’ve suffered, I brought it upon myself. Although I’ve been shamed, that too I brought on myself. But I can’t walk around being skeptical and suspicious of everyone and everything. It’s just not my nature. I guess deep down somewhere inside my old grouchy Walks’ heart there’s a bounding love, the kind of love I was talking about the other day, the same love that motivates everything at its root. Do we question love? I guess. Do we question our commitment to love? Sometimes. Do we feel that as hard as we love it’s returned? Not always but then again that’s the nature of love.

It’s also the nature of suspicion. Are the people that I look at with suspicions suspicious of me? Do they wonder who I am, what I am, where I’m from, where I’m going, what I’m about? I don’t know cuz I’m too suspicious to ask. I’ve been led to believe that the world is a terrible place with terrible people, but in the same breath, when I walk into a store I smile and say, ‘Good Morning’ I mean it and I’m pretty sure that the people that return that smile and that good morning greeting mean it as well. Even in that fleeing moment there’s the back hint of skepticism somewhere in my dark little mind. I wonder if they really mean it. Are they worried about me or wondering about me?

Yesterday was a red banner day for me. I really need to work and was asked to come to Walmart for an interview. I spoke with the man and it went really well and I believed I had the job. But then he told me to go back and fill out the application online which I’ve had problems doing, so there, even in that moment of self-celebration for having accomplished something else that needs to be done, I was skeptical knowing that the website is almost all but unnavigationalable. I don’t even know if that’s a word but we’re going to say it today, so today’s word that might not be a word is unnavigationalable. Enjoy yourself use it somewhere and when you do, trust that whoever you use it on is going to be skeptical as to whether it’s a word or not.

Anyway what I’m trying to get to this morning is a simple fact that I think we should start giving people more of the benefit of the doubt. If we prove to be wrong, it’s called a mistake. I’m pretty sure you make them too. I know I do almost on an hourly basis but that’s all right because I’m skeptical as to how long that will continue out here in your world… oh wait a minute… it’s now my world too! Don’t know why I was skeptical of that. I have as much a part to play in it is you do and today I think I’ll choose to give people the benefit of the doubt, even the people that I know who have proven to me every day here in this halfway house that they’re really not on my side and they’re really not trying to help; they’re just trying to get a paycheck and going about their business of being skeptical and suspicious of me. I’m praying for you this morning and praying for them, All My Relations.

NATIVE TRADITIONS OF ACCEPTANCE & INCLUSION

Reflection for Native American Heritage Month

By Ghost Dancer

Native peoples have a hard time dealing with some of the practices and understandings of other peoples. By this I mean, most Native feel that other people must not think for themselves and are programmed as a whole rather than in freedom of the individual. I would like to share some reflections on these concepts and in hopes it will unlock some minds and hearts to be free.

First, when did anything become born evil? Does anyone honestly believe that the Creator purposely created anything to be evil? Then why, throughout history have people labeled certain people, animals, plants, winds, water, etc. as being evil? Now don’t sit there and say, oh it is just an expression. Really?

Well let’s look at history. How many places in books, movies, teachings, and religious belief is the wolf portrayed as being something of the devil or just evil? Now, I personally have lived with real live wolves, have hunted with them, laid down and slept with them and eaten with them. No wolf targets out humans or wants to hurt or eat a human, yet the wolf has this label on it. Many religious beliefs portray the wolf as being this evil spawn. When native peoples honor the wolf they honor its loyalty to family, loyalty to the pack, its loving ways. Every wolf gives love to every member of the pack each day. They mostly live by hunting deer, elk, buffalo, rabbits, mice, birds, or fish, but they are never cruel and don’t torture what they hunt. They do this for food only.

Wolves do fight to protect their families, territory, etc. and for their food. The wolves taught us Native peoples how to hunt as a group, how to hide, evade, and even how to live as a group of people. They also taught us how to reaffirm our love for each other every single day, how to play, love our children, and teach our children. Every member of the pack protects and plays with the pups. Traditionally, no Native will hunt a wolf or harm one.

Now let’s look at some other examples. A child is born deformed, has a disease or is mentally handicapped. Many cultures throughout history have labeled such a child a devil’s child, and would order the child killed. Even now some teach that this child is born evil, or in sin etc. So I ask you, did the Creator create this child as evil?

I say no. Is this the child’s fault? No. Some children may be born this way because of what the parents have done – drugs or alcohol or exposure to chemicals or radiation. So why label the child as something evil as many religions have done throughout history. Traditionally, Native peoples believe such a child is a special child and is here being taught or teaching us through their lives what Spirit wants us to see and learn.

Children born as homosexual would be evident at an early age and would be noted. Sexual preference was their choice; their free will. War women usually were very dominant women and would be accepted in the men’s societies. They usually had women or even a male who chose to be a woman as a mate. Not all males were strong, some had feminine ways and would not be accepted in the men’s societies, but they would be accepted in the female societies. These too were special people and fully accepted as members of society.

Now let’s look at a problem that really gets me upset: Women! Throughout history and even today, religious and social propaganda programs us to believe that women are lesser human beings, subservient to men. This is totally insane! Many even label the woman as cursed by the Creator and say she has a curse on her because of what a book and religions say because she has a menstrual cycle, what we Native peoples call a moon time.

Now let’s look at this closely. The Creator chose women to bring forth life into this world, by blessing them with the Love of giving Birth! Not a man who is so egotistical that he could never be responsible enough to carry the life in his belly for 9 months or have the love to willingly be able to endure so much pain. Creator is wise and knows the true gifts and abilities that we all have. Creator chose women to be able to do this – NOT men – because their strength in Love, beauty, enduring patience, forgiveness, humbleness, and generosity is what they have to offer to bring forth in the child.

Now when I hear or read that women are inferior, weak, or evil, or meant to be silent, or to be subservient, it makes me wonder on whose authority is this ordered? Who proclaimed that women must be treated this way? I know for a fact the Creator surely did not. So who wrote that in the religious books and told religious leaders to preach and proclaim this to be truth? Whose agenda is this?

Many proclaim that a woman is cursed because of her moon cycle, but really it isn’t a curse; it is a gift from the Creator. It is a gift to purify herself from within that no man has ever been given. Now traditionally, many tribes had a moon hut. This was so the woman who is on her moon would not OVER POWER a man’s spirit or his medicine, or power bundles, weapons etc. because a woman who is on her moon is very powerful. Her body is in pain, yet is aroused at the same time. Her medicine is so strong she becomes aggressive, same as doe or a mare in heat. To protect her and the men, she goes to the hut to rest and learn more about herself. Many times an elder clan mother is there to teach her of these things.

Now many others don’t believe or practice the way traditional Native peoples do, but we had a system that worked beautifully. We had Clan Mothers, representing all the clans; we had our Beloved Women, we had our councils that listened to the needs of the clan mothers and made sure their wishes were fulfilled and met. No wars, no actions, could ever start or happen unless the clan mothers ordered it! All life revolved around the tradition of the clan mothers and all females being in control. Men, ALL MEN, took their orders from the clan mothers. Even the Miccos all answered to the clan mothers. All the kings answered to the clan mothers!  Even those people who had special gifts conferred with the clan mothers in all matters.

Everything worked for the benefit of the people to maintain order, balance, love, and happiness for all. Justice was issued out by the clan mothers – true justice – not like today. Every action and every decision was designed to restore balance and harmony. This was all done by the women. The women owned all the property, homes and gardens and the women were responsible for dispersing the crops and trade goods. If all could be this way today the world would be a better world!

Respectfully, Ghost

Fancy Meeting You On The Ark

Genealogy Journeys . . .

By Edna Peirce Dixon

Genealogy Research Notes, October 2012 – Recently I’ve been concentrating on Jack’s ALLEN family and the GREEN’s of my friend, Sandra “Sunfeather” Lee’s family. It was exciting to learn awhile back that Jack’s ancestor, one Thomas Allen b 1610 had journeyed from England in 1633-34 in the famous Ark and Dove voyages bringing settlers to the new Maryland Colony. Naturally I soon found myself submerged in the history of this voyage and the colony and eventually I’d uncover the story of the sad fate of Thomas Allen and his three sons.

So setting that aside, I moved on to Sandra’s paternal family history, tracing her Green family line as far back as possible. I could hardly believe my eyes when the words, “The Ark and The Dove” came up. Sandra’s ancestor on the voyage was Thomas Green, Esq, b. 1609. In time he would become the Governor of Maryland.

The next question, then . . . did these two men have any kind of association? Going back to the history books the answers soon came clear. Maryland Colony was founded by aristocratic Catholic leaders in England. Their goal was to populate the colony as quickly as possible and they were open to non-Catholic settlers.

The leader of this expedition on The Ark & The Dove was one Leonard Calvert, the younger brother of Cecil Calvert, the 2nd Lord Baltimore, mastermind and chief investor in the colony. He remained back in England, sending his younger brother, Leonard Calvert to serve as the Governor of the Maryland Colony. Shortly before his death years later, Leonard Calvert named his close friend, Thomas Greene as interim Governor. Thomas Greene’s wife, Winifred Calvert, was the daughter of Cecil Calvert and Anne Arundel.

Sandra Lee’s 10th Great Grandparents, Governor Thomas and Winifred Greene, produced sons, and in time several generations later, one of their descendants would marry a Cherokee woman, also named Winifred aka Winnie. Their daughter, Mary Polly Green, born in the uplands of NW South Carolina would become Sandra’s 3rd Great Grandmother. (Note: On Sandra’s maternal side there’s an even stranger story of Sarah, another Cherokee maiden, her 5th great grandmother who was a slave. She married her master and their son became quite famous. But that’s another story.)

Revisiting Thomas Allen, we learn that he was a protestant, and traveled the Ark as an indentured servant to Leonard Calvert. Thus, in payment for his passage, he worked the lands of Governor Calvert until 1640 when he gained his freedom and was awarded some 65 acres to call his own. During this time Thomas Allen married a woman remembered only as Mary and together they had three sons: Thomas b 1637, William b 1638 & Robert b 1640. Thomas Allen’s will was written in 1648 at a time when there was much unrest between religious factions and the local Indians. Clearly concerned, Thomas named two “Irishmen” who threatened his life and makes explicit instructions for the care of his three motherless sons already pre-arranged in case of his untimely death.

Shortly thereafter, Thomas and his sons disappeared. In time Thomas’ decomposing body, shot with part of the skull missing was discovered on the beach at Point Lookout, south of St. Mary’s City. In time the two older boys were returned for ransom by the Indians. History is unclear about the fate of the younger son. The middle son, William, went on to become Jack’s 8th Great Grandfather.

epd October 31, 2022

Time vs. People

Step Into The Light

October 26, 2020

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Walks On The Grass

Before I came here, my assumption was people were going to be helpful in my making this transition from prison to the “real” world. I’m rapidly finding this is not always the case. In the battle of Time vs. People the level of helpful depends on who it is and what time it is or I should say how much time, that determines who wins.

An example of how this battle works, say if you have an appointment somewhere you get there 30 minutes early like they tell you to on the paper but then they keep you waiting for 30 minutes after the scheduled time. So now you’ve sat for an hour for an appointment you should have had a half hour ago. You had better not say anything because at that point the person you had the appointment with will win.

If you’re talking to someone here and you express yourself by saying what you think, they may not reply, they may not respond at all, but then you’ll find out later that they have replied to almost everybody they know about what it is you said and the timing of this is generally pretty rapid.

Right now I’m going through all sorts of time-related changes. All of my time is metered and controlled by these people. I’m allowed to go search for a job, but that’s not all I need time for. Besides searching for a job I’m also preparing to go to college and I needed time for enrolling, taking the interview test, then orientation and that’s tested too, and I still need to schedule a placement test. Each one of these steps is with different people and at different times.

My keepers hold me to a 3-hour time limit 8:00 to11:00 a.m., Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Anything other than that must be scheduled with them, through them, and approved by them. But when I’m doing these things, I can’t know how much time will be needed. Sometimes I’m in the middle of a test. I can’t just walk out but I know I’m going to be late. So I call as I’ve been instructed to let them know, but when I get back, I still get reprimanded like a naughty child.  Once again in the situation of People vs. Time the people won that round.

What I’m saying is that the winner of these bouts is determined by who the time is actually with and generally, the issue does not work out in my favor. But that’s okay. I could get discouraged, throw my hands up in the air, scream and shout, stomp my feet but at that moment Time will have won cuz I just wasted more time throwing a fit that won’t solve a darn thing. That’s another test I must take apparently.

I don’t know what led me to believe that people out in the “real” world will be considerate of others. Certainly seems to me they’re not. I’m finding in my “transition” that people are rude, selfish and unable to value the time that other people (like me) put into the things they are doing. This is not just an inconvenience. If you go outside these time frames in any of the things that you’re trying to accomplish and you don’t contact them or call them, the circumstances could be dire.

You could be punished, charged for a visit you didn’t go to or you could lose privileges you don’t really even have. But that’s only if you’re me. Now I’m not ranting here I’m just making an observation but it seems to me that the rules they make me live by, my keepers should have to follow themselves. It also seems to me that everything I’m doing is all good. I’m trying to work toward living a productive, self-sufficient life but I’m catching hell doing the things I need to do or trying to get done.

I’m supposed to see the psychologist today. I’ve not yet been told when he will see me but he’s come down from Chicago so I will just wait until he can see me. That’s okay, I’m not mad but it would be good to know what time I get to see him so that I can schedule my day around that. Again in this instance it’s the People vs. Time but I’m not going to let it discourage me. I have plenty I’d like to talk to him about when I do see him about all these problems.

Just this morning I was up early and went to the doctor. I thought I was going to get my flu shot and pneumonia shot. Yes, the nurse gave me a piece of paper recommending I get these vaccines but said that I will have to schedule with the health department to get them because they don’t do the vaccinations there. The paperwork that I had been given clearly said what I was there for but still I waited an hour see my doctor in order to learn this. I was glad to talk with the doctor about some of my issues anyway, but I have to wonder why they couldn’t have given me correct information to start with. I later learned that the health department had come here to give shots, but apparently no one had time to inform me of that either.

Anyway, people are funny, even funnier when confronted with the constraints of time. I see everybody in such a hurry yet they don’t seem to have time to accomplish what they’re supposed to do. Maybe we should all just take a time to contemplate the fact that we have all the time we need to get things done efficiently. All we need to do is arrive a half hour early. Smile. As for me, well, I’ll comply. After all, if I don’t, the other people win that bout and at that point, my complaint becomes a waste of time. Have a nice day. Set your clock forward a half hour so that you can arrive at tomorrow a half hour ahead of time, at which point you will see you still have to wait a half hour to get to tomorrow. And you thought you were early!

Steven “Walks On The Grass” Maisenbacher

October 26, 2020

The Most Powerful

Step Into The Light

October 20, 2022

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Walks On The Grass

I’m going to step outside the boundaries of what I’ve been doing normally and speak on something that’s come to my mind in the most profound way possible. I want to elaborate on what’s going on. Wars have been fought over love. Men have moved mountains for love. And women have composed those same mountains into amazing vistas, stunning in their depth and power.

We’ve all experienced things we regret in relationships. Emotions run amok sometimes making us do or say things that we didn’t mean, or did mean and just never said. 

                           LONG OVERDUE

Bury all my pain so I can live again. 
Things are not the same, 
I finally called your name. 
Wasted all my life with all my trouble and strife.
But I find it was not in vain. 
Now no more broken tears, 
No more wasted years. 
If it can't be like it was, 
It can be like it will be again. 
I finally called your name. 
So understand these words,
It's not just something that you've heard. 
It's not another lie, meant to ruin and kill your soul. 
So see me as I am. 
I know I'm not the same. 
But I am what the Creator has let me be. 
A thousand sleepless nights, 
Internal haunted fights, 
With myself and my mind, 
I just couldn't understand. 
But now I finally do,
And it's all because of you. 
You brought me back to life,
When I was dead inside. 
I miss you now more than then, 
I don't know where else I can begin. 
Apologies were made, 
And I'm glad we're not the same. 

Steven Walks On The Grass, © October 2022

Emotions have made strong men cry and weak men strong. I’m a man ruled by passions. I obsess easily and deeply, and when I do, it’s no holds barred. When you love someone there’s nothing you won’t do for them, there’s nothing you won’t sacrifice, there’s nothing you won’t give up, and there’s nothing that can stand in the way of trying to make the person you love understand how deep your love for them is.

How many of us have been in failed relationships only to find out that we were the problems and that we’d driven love away through our stubborn, willful thoughts or actions that fell short of the mark that we would set in order to obtain what we wished for most – love. I found over the past few decades that just because you make mistakes and you’ve lost someone that you loved, you don’t stop loving them. In fact, it’s generally quite the opposite. That love forms its own beautiful pictures in your mind and heart. The memories that haunt you are the same memories you created in loving that person, but whatever happened that made it go away, it’s the same power that keeps it with you. The only difference is who you are after the fact.

We all change. Change is inevitable. There’s no comma there because it’s irrefutable; it’s a pointless endeavor to think that people don’t change. I know firsthand. The things I did in my life and the acts that I committed criminally I find abhorrent. I would no more think about committing any crimes like that than I would think of cutting my hand off with a blunt knife. I’m just not that person. I don’t see those things. I couldn’t even imagine myself going there. But the one thing I can see in all the wrong, in all the failures, and all the hurt, heartache, and anguish: the love is still there. Not for that kind of life, but for the things that I lost because of it.

How many of us have suffered addictions? Addiction so stifling that it ruined family, friends and relationships? And how many of us are in recovery? I know mine is 23 years deep, but it’s not so much a recovery as it is a rescue. I was rescued from myself by the love that I had lost and the love that I’ve found in the Creator, and the love that found me again. I can finally breathe again! Everything is so much clearer to me now that I’ve come to terms with who and what I was, and the realization that I’m not that same person anymore. The power, the sheer magnificent power of Love rescued me when nothing else could.

I had sung my death song. I was courting it at every opportunity, wishing for it, seeking it. And then love came into my heart again and I’ve carried that love like a trophy, like a beautiful treasure. I’ve embraced the pain that it caused and the joy that it brought; the sleepless nights, the beautiful dreams. Tell me what else is that powerful?

How many of us have wished for a chance to just do it over again just for one minute go back in time and unsay something said, undo something done, and move on through life from that moment as if nothing had ever happened, as if our heart hadn’t been broken, or we hadn’t broken someone’s heart. Every moment of every day in the back of my mind all the way at the very bottom of every thought there’s Love. Again I ask, how powerful is that?

I was talking to Sings today, telling her about how I had become such a sensitive emotion-based man that I can still cry over a dog food commercial. The storyline was a young girl running through the house jumping into a chair and a puppy chasing her. Then it moves on Fast Forward to an adolescent teenager sitting sideways in the chair like they’re not supposed to with the dog, now obviously older, just laying on the floor at the foot of the chair waiting on his little girl who’s not a little girl anymore. Now fast forward even further to a beautiful young woman walking in the door obviously coming from somewhere back home to visit her family maybe.  An old gray-muzzled dog that had been the puppy chasing that little girl, now walks slowly to the door. He can only wag his tail he had aged so much. The young woman sits down on the floor and loves that dog. As she holds and pets him and you could feel the sheer bliss between them in the entire scene. As silly as that seems it brings tears to my eyes; hell it brought tears to my eyes right now just talking about it.

That’s the kind of love I’m talking about. Unconditional! Doesn’t matter for who or what, it’s just that powerful. No matter what, it’s love and I promise if you look past your angry words, your hurt feelings, or you’re unmet expectations and can get to the next minute with your mouth closed and your heart open, you’re going to find that love, or you’re going to realize it’s already there. Maybe this isn’t what you expected out of me, but it’s what I have to say.

I’m in a situation right now that’s less than ideal. I’m being restricted more than anybody in the building. I’m being looked upon as irredeemable by the very staff that is supposed to help me because of what I used to be. If they could only see inside my heart they would find this, but they won’t look. They all claim that I have to prove this but I myself know I don’t have to prove anything. I just have to love the way I love, that deeply, that profoundly.

So the next time someone makes you mad or disappoints you, just remember what it is about that person you love, because that part you love is still there. You just have to open your heart and let the love heal the wound. Romeo loved Juliet. That’s just one story. What’s yours? This is mine: I refuse to let anger or hate or disappointment get in my way. I will live the rest of my life In Love – obtainable or not, requited or reciprocated or not, I will not stop loving. I will not stop being the man I know I am, right now in this moment.

Steven “Walks On The Grass” Maisenbacher

Walks Goes To College

Step Into The Light

Journal Entry 5 – October 12, 2022

By Steven Maisenbacher

Walks On The Grass

Well it seems like it’s a done deal, only not done the way I initially had planned. It looks like I won’t be taking Computer Sciences. I was contacted by the success counselor who advised me that the Computer Sciences program is a rigorous, in-depth, two-year course of studies designed for computer-adept individuals. The course basically involves writing programs in several computer languages, all new computer technology. These are the things that I don’t have the basic skills for; I’m still trying to learn the basic skills. So, instead, I might be doing what I have wanted to do for the past 10 years.

I might just go ahead and start the prerequisites and a couple of electives toward earning an Associate Degree in psychology and sociology with public speaking as well. Once I hit the associate mark I’ll have the credentials I need to go ahead and start shopping around for a job as a youth counselor or drug addiction counselor. Hopefully I would have the ability to serve a residency towards the remaining credits needed, or at least that’s the way it is in my mind.

I have an appointment with the success counselor for next Thursday October 20th at 9:00 a.m. to discuss my options. On the phone, she was very nice as if she wanted to be helpful. Keep your fingers crossed for me; I’m going to need the extra luck.  I’ve been out to the college several times now, each time with less and less stress. It finally occurred to me during the orientation process that I’m exactly where I need to be, that I have just as much right as anybody on the free planet to better myself with an education in order to help other people. For me that’s what it’s really about, what it’s been about for decades.

Even while inside, teaching youngsters the ceremonies and the traditions, helping them return to their native roots, even encouraging them and helping them learn their languages, that’s mostly why I now speak three native languages.  It seems ironic that my English is atrocious but I have an extensive vocabulary. That can only come from the upwards of 5,000 books I’ve read in the past 25 years. I know that number seems crazy but it’s probably well under the mark. That doesn’t make me smart, it just means I was able to conquer my dyslexia and seek the education for myself that I couldn’t get anywhere else.

Now I’m insistent upon getting the education I can’t get for myself at the one place I can get it – college. Sixty-two years old, beat up, battered and bruised, I still want to learn and I still want to help even if it’s only one person. That would be worth it. I ain’t trying to come across as no superhero, I’m just the man I’ve become. And then becoming this man, I’m coming to terms with all that I didn’t do in my life – the things I should have done I neglected or ignored, the things I shouldn’t have done I did with vigor. Which leaves only one comment. What a bonehead I was! But being the stubborn bonehead that I was, I finally got bored with being bad. Somehow in my mind I came to the point where I thought to myself: I’m My Own Worst Enemy! That won’t happen ever again not in this life or the next.

I went through the orientation test, probably the most difficult thing I’ve done in decades. I was asked about career goals and expectations. The test had me draw a mind map of where I wanted to go and where I am now in my journey to get to where I want to go. My map was all stick figures, a bit of a catastrophe on paper; Yeah my drawing skills are lacking to say the least. Smile. But I got it done.

In the middle of orientation, I discovered that I was going to be late getting back to the halfway house so I did what I was told to do. I called, and I told them I was still in the middle of orientation and I was going to be late. This is what my case manager told me to do if I was confronted with the situation. So I did it. I finally finished the orientation after asking the student counselor for help several dozen times just navigating a computer that I knew nothing about – files and tiles and drop downs and enters and deletes and all sorts of alien things.  

I went to the bus stop to come back to the halfway house. By this time I’m an hour late, so I called again and told them I was at the bus stop. I’d be back as soon as the bus drops me off. I’m waiting for it now. This is the second call that I made when really I was only required to call once. So I get back to the halfway house and the first thing out of the staff member’s mouth is, “I’m going to call your counselor, you’re late!” Well imagine that! I did what I was told and still they want to gang up on me for it.

I’m finding that this place is nothing but all the speed bumps in the world, all the tests, all the trying situations and all the petty, stupid rules that aren’t in the manual or the handbook that they make up as they go. I don’t know if it’s all meant to see what I’ll do but I do know it’s ridiculous, oppressive, and lacking in sense. But that’s not going to stop me. It’s going to take more than some silly rules to stop me, it’s going to take more than some aggravating staff members to stop me, because I am thoroughly and absolutely convinced that I’m going to succeed in spite of it.

I didn’t make it this far to fail and I owe it to those who love me and to myself, but most of all, I owe it to the Creator to be the man that I have been blessed to become. I know a lot of you don’t know me, some never will other than these writings, and I’m so glad you didn’t know the man I was before. That’s not who I am and I will not let them make me be that man by trying to put speed bumps and trials in my way or hindering my progress in my reentry into society. School is going to be super difficult but I’ll overcome that too. After all nobody there is going to use a taser on me and I won’t be handcuffed behind my back. The only hurdles I have to pass are my own mind and the assimilation of the knowledge that will be presented cuz that’s what they will do when Walks goes to college.

Y’all have a good day, I will in being Walks.

Speed Bumps

Step Into The Light

October 5, 2022

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Walks On The Grass

Why does everything have to be so difficult? I’ve been out for a little over a month now. I have filled out a hundred applications and applied at probably 50 places. With 25 years of education and training in the quality assurance field, you’d think I was employable, but this doesn’t seem to be the case. I have no computer experience. Even this phone is a navigation nightmare. Were it not for the people around me here with their loving hearts and patience I would be lost. Speed bumps.

After arriving here at the halfway house my PTSD really kicked in. I was afraid to go out anywhere in the world and didn’t for almost 21 days. Finally I went to Walmart for the first time. It was amazing. I rode around on the little car, got some of the things I needed, but then there he was, the monster inside my mind. PTSD. Another big speed bump. I don’t know how to explain what it does to me other than it makes me afraid, anxious and sad for no reason. The slightest thing makes me cry and I go to fearing crowds of people around me. None of these people has an agenda concerning me, still they terrify me. I feel like everyone’s watching me, looking at me, suspecting me, judging me, not liking me, or simply being worried about me doing something horrible.

I tell myself this is not true. This is not real. This is not the way the world is. But then I look at the news, watch the way people act, and think pretty much everyone is aware of what’s going on in our world today – except for me. I wake up in the middle of the night in panic, thinking that someone’s coming to get me to take me back to prison. The Last Place on Earth I ever want to go! How do I conquer these fears? I still don’t know. To this very second I’m afraid of what I don’t know, and I think that’s pretty much everything. I’m afraid of falling short of the marks that I’ve set for myself. I’m afraid of what other people might think of me. I’m afraid of somebody trying to hurt me or take the very little that I have.

I have a scheduled appointment with a mental health specialist today. It’s supposed to be a phone interview. I’m even anxious and apprehensive about that. I’m afraid he won’t understand what I go through on a daily basis. From the moment I wake up to the moment I go back to bed, I’m living in fear. I don’t know why. I don’t know what has happened to me to make this happen. I only know that it has and I never knew it would be this bad until I got out.

Even getting on a bus is a challenge. I usually ask an employee at the bus stop which bus do I take to get where I need to go? Which bus do I take to get back? Usually they look at me like I’m an alien or just plain weird when I don’t know how to do something. What a strange new world with all these hurdles, all these people, all these places, and all these things that go on. Yesterday I applied for housing. They gave me another application and told me to fill out both of them. I’m not sure if they’ll even help me; I’m number 5,421 on the list. Guess I’ll be here for a minute.

I am sitting alone outside. I had my prayers at dawn, now I’m watching the sun come up. I hear sirens in the distance and I have to ask myself if that could have been about me at one point in my life? I know the answer. And that too scares me. I have so many regrets. I’ve apologized and spoken about all I planned on for the future, but in the same breath, I still wonder where do I go from here? What’s in store for me? How do I get to the place I need to be when I spend most of my day fighting in my own mind? I don’t know the clinical terms or definitions of what’s going on and I don’t think it would matter if I did because I don’t think that would fix it. So I’ll keep pushing on every day, trying to get past one fear into the next, trying to make sure I do all the things I think are right and praying that they were the right things.

Tomorrow morning I have an appointment with the admissions counselor at Lincoln Land Community College. I’m going back to school at 62 years old! I’ve got a lot to learn but this too comes with its own bag of fears. I don’t want to sound like a whiny crybaby but I feel so alone even though I know there are many who love me and do care. I know they want the best for me and I believe that they’re the reason I’m able to keep fighting these fears all day, every day. Everything seems to be a speed bump on my way to normalcy.

I want to succeed. I have to succeed. There’s no other option and this scares me too. I look at the people around me when I’m out in the world. I’ve been out several times now, taking the bus here or there getting lost once or twice and kind of freaking out about what I would do next. That’s when the anxiety kicks in. I don’t think I need to describe what anxiety feels like; we’ve all gone through it at one point in time or another, but it ain’t good, it’s not pleasant and it leaves me unsettled.

Several times I’ve had to go to my room and just lay down and hide. But what am I hiding from? Why would I have to hide? I’ve done all that I was supposed to do. I’ve paid my debt to society for my past wrongs. But it seems obvious that society won’t let it be debt paid. Everything I ever did is held over my head here, from the simple fact of needing to put in paperwork just to go to a store to buy a toothbrush to having to put in paperwork and have it approved to try and find a job.

There are several people working behind the scenes to see to it that my path is smoother and helping make opportunities available for me to succeed. You Know Who You Are and I thank you so deeply. There are others who would like nothing more than to see me to fail, for me to go back to the cage that I’ve lived in for well over half my life. To them I say, you are a speed bump.

For decades I had the chance to stand outside of all the madness from my cages and now I’m in them. The madness that I face every day is not so much from the world around me but for my not knowing how to navigate that world myself. In the prisons they scream about rehabilitation and pre-release preparation but in reality, there wasn’t any. My only rehabilitation came from within and my only pre-release preparations are the plans and dreams I have and so want to do.

So I’ll continue to do what I do, get up at 4:00 in the morning so that I can be outside to pray at 5:30. Then I’ll plan my activities for the day just as if I were doing so without the fears. The simplest things are difficult. The hardest things are already done. Everything else – my mental health, my physical health, where I will  live, where I will work, what I will do – these are just speed bumps. I’ll get over them.

I am Walks On The Grass and I Will Never Surrender.

Index to publications by Steven Maisenbacher

Walks Long Road Home

Step Into the Light