I came across these two TikToks tonight (December 30th, 2023) from Gene Lee and Reverend PopPop.
Sometimes I hang on to things for awhile, revising my thoughts and thinking on things. Following on from the last post, Thoughts and Reflections on 2017 Geography of Hope: Becoming Native to a Place, I thought about how that last post took me from October 31st till now to publish and I went through 15 revisions. The prevailing feeling that I was left with when I finished watching the video was a sense of bittersweet joy each person felt from connecting with their Native cultures and hope carrying on forward from it. There gets to be a distance from the details, the freshness of the bitter, the sweet, and the hope too, as revisions go on and time separates me from the initial experiences and feelings that prompted the post. So, a lot of this post is going to be off the cuff and with as few revisions as I can. It’s been written in just an hour or two.
Tonight, I feel a sense of hope that resonates with what I felt then. It is more acute, though. The pain is as well. For my part, I am trying to put fewer revisions and time between myself and those feelings. When I was watching the 2017 video, for all the emotions that swelled up in me during it, it was not my grief to share but to hold space for. It was grief I could feel, but it was not mine that I had personally experienced. When I watched Gene Lee’s response to Reverend PopPop’s video, that invitation to grief hit something personally. When Rev. PopPop shared his Grandma’s experience of the residential school, the loss she felt of her culture, her language, and all the pain she went through, followed on then with the message she gave to the Reverend about broken plates being turned into mosaics something hit me hard about that. That, too, is how I live my Heathenry. How I live my life as best as I can on stolen land. How I live through the bittersweet hope that John Trudell, Lyla June Johnston, Brooke Hecht, Nicky Finney, and Ilarion Merculieff shared with their experiences, their stories, their music, their hearts. These peoples’ pain is not my pain. It resonates, though, and it is important to acknowledge that. That Rev. PopPop would give what his Ancestor gave to him, to go so far as to give an invitation to look at the damn broken plate, to really feel what was lost, and then to grieve what has been lost hit something hard in me.
I have my own pain. So do my Ancestors. I have my own Ancestral baggage that is being worked through in an ongoing basis. Sometimes that is through prayer, sometimes through dedicated spiritwork, and sometimes that is through just being alive, being Heathen, and doing what I can while I live. Sometimes it is done through sitting back and listening to my Ancestors. Sometimes it is me shouting at my Ancestors. Sometimes it is me singing with Them and/or dancing with Them. Sometimes it is all of these things, and more besides.
I have had more than a few times where I began with my usual spiritual hygiene, then a prayer of invitation. I then lit a sacred pipe after the Fire Prayer filled with Asemaa and Ama Una, and after some conversation I have yelled. “Why the fuck did you do that?!” “Why is this something I have to deal with?!” “This is bullshit!” I think it would be lying by omission to act like these kinds of feelings of grief, anger, and pain do not happen in sacred space. They certainly do. I have had them myself, seen them around Sacred Fires I have been honored to tend, and through these some truly profound healing has been able to be had by both Ancestors and descendant. To not look at the pain, to not give it space, to not allow both you and the Ancestors to be with it and to grieve is to deny whole parts of ourselves, souls needing space to feel, to heal, and to come to a new way of being.
Sometimes the Ancestral baggage is recent. Stories that are not mine to tell, but sear at the edges of the family. The loss of language and culture from great-Grandparents coming to this country because America is an assimilating, melting, ravenous monster that takes bites out of us all, eating everything and everyone it can, and shits us all out. Sometimes the Ancestral baggage is ancient. Betrayals not remembered by anyone except the Ancestors who endured them, or the giving up of whole cultural traditions, or relationships with their Gods, Ancestors, and spirits for Christianity because of expedience, trading opportunities, or the local king, jarl, or some other dignitary insisted on it. Whenever the Ancestors bring me Their grief it is a gift, a gift of trust from Them to me, a gift of knowledge and understanding, and in turn I give Them the space to share, to give, to grieve. Certainly the Ancestors have given me that space in kind.
Gene Lee is spot on when he says “This is what I mean when I say we cannot fix the problems with white supremacy and colonization by simply reclaiming the ethnic identities that were lost. A lot of that is just gone, and we have the responsibility of building something new for ourselves. America used to be described as the Great Melting Pot and I think that is a beautiful way to illustrate how white hegemony, how whiteness erases ethnic culture and tries to turn everyone into this monolith of whiteness. I like the idea of seeing American culture as a mosaic because it pays homage to how much had to be broken and lost for us to be what we are today. It shows how much damage was done for us to be on this stolen land. If we look at the American empire as a plate it is very obviously crumbling and that’s because it was never, you know, fired or forged properly. There were cracks in that plate from the moment we started using it, and now it is time to break that apart and to turn the pieces into something better for everyone.”
Heathenry as I live it is a mosaic. Before I was born it was envisioned as, to use Rev. PopPop’s metaphor, restoring a broken plate, and those efforts cut generations of Heathens’ fingers long before I came to it. Give a listen to the Heathen History podcast if you need examples. Now, I see one of the big challenges of today’s Heathenry is to make a living mosaic from the broken plates we have, both from our ancient Heathen past and from the more recent revivals that made the Heathen communities what they are today. If we cannot look to the grief in our past we continue to cut our fingers on the plates as we try to put them back together. No matter how much we romanticize the past, no matter how much we reach back, we cannot repair all the shards. To quote Rev. PopPop’s Ancestor “Sometimes what is lost is just lost. Sometimes you cannot get it back.” Some of those shards from the plate are lost. For good.
We can grieve that. We can grieve that loss right alongside our Ancestors’ losses, our own losses, and the things we have set aside or had to do so we can live or walk our paths as well as we can. We can grieve what was done to us, for us, and/or on our behalf. What we cannot do is put that shattered plate back together the same way. It is healthy for us to grieve. It is unhealthy to live in that grief to the point where nothing gets done and no healing can occur. It is not healthy nor honoring our Ancestors to let Their grief, Their pain, and Their loss do us ongoing harm when there are better ways we can come to live and do things. We can take the good shards we have, and, as the Reverend invites us, to make a mosaic. We do deserve to scream. To cry. To do all the things we need to do to grieve. We also deserve to make something from it. To make something more than just bloody fingers and tears. We deserve to heal.
Gene Lee points out that “This decolonization, this has to start inside of us and it is going to be hard. It is going to entail grieving things that you didn’t even know you lost. But at least we will not be alone in our grief. Let that grief drive you to building community. Recognize that grief, share that pain, and allow yourself to be supported through it. Find the people that will support you through because I swear to God they are out there. Everybody is hurting in some way. So find someone whose pain is relatable and then heal together. Work together to heal.”
That decolonization, to me, is one of the biggest challenges before the Heathen communities. As Heathen communities we can, and I believe should grieve what we lost, both in terms of the ancient past and in terms of our more recent past. We can grieve the connections with the Ginnreginn our Ancestors could have given us had they survived intact until now. We can grieve the Romanticism that more recent Heathen and adjacent communities not only indulged in, but lived in. We can grieve the wrong our more recent Ancestors did to folks who could have been part of our communities if they had not been havens for white supremacy and racism.
There is nothing wrong with that grieving! That is healthy! What is unhealthy is to place that as more important than the ongoing suffering others are experiencing, the ongoing trauma that is still taking place, the ongoing genocides that are still occurring. We have more than enough shattered plates mosaics without taking from others’ shattered plates and disrespecting their grief and grievances. Witnessing others’ grief does not give us right to it, or to the shards of their broken plates.
So, please, follow the advice of Gene Lee above, and Rev. PopPop here: “Grieve in a way that is inconvenient and unproductive to this system, and if you see someone grieving, do not take the opportunity to make it a competition, sit there with them in that grief and your grief and feel that grief together. Just let yourself experience loss. And I want you to grieve so loudly that the earth shakes. That it cracks and breaks apart. Because these are the labor pains of a new world, and you deserve to scream. Then as the New Year rolls in, I want you to put on some gloves and I want you to pick up the pieces of that plate. Because we cannot return it to what it was, but together we can build the most beautiful fucking mosaic that this world has ever goddamn seen. A mosaic made of all our broken pieces. A world without as many broken plates. That was the world my Grandmother believed in. And so do I.”
We cannot live in our or our Ancestors’ grief or grieving. We can grieve, together, as we move on. We can grieve as we make the mosaic. We can grieve after we’ve made a mosaic. Grief is not a straight line, it is not a one and done process. We have to continuously make room for it, because without that room we cannot heal. If we cannot heal we may repeat what caused the grief in the first place, or do even more damage.
I firmly believe each of us can do this work in our own ways individually and especially in community. I firmly believe this grieving, healing, and work is vital to ourselves, our Ancestors and other Ginnreginn, our Kindreds and groups, to Heathenry, and to our wider communities. Together, with our Ginnreginn, our communities, with one another, I believe we can grieve, decolonize, heal, and make new mosaics.