Completed: #33. use curlers

I acquired these velcro rollers at a clothing & stuff swap quite some time ago. I realized after mentally-making-up-my-mind to use them that I didn't have any hairpins, so these are affixed with a combination of various sizes of paper clips, hair clips, and a feather fascinator on a hairband. FANCY.

Perhaps for this reason, or the fact that my hair is deceptively thick and ridiculously long [insert inappropriate joke, I know], or that I didn't leave them in long enough to dry, these didn't work for me at all.

However, here is proof that this happened:

New goal: Be on a postage stamp, yeah?

[Original goal list posted here.]

Progress: #38. go on more experiential learning trips

On Monday, I drove into Brantford by myself. The drive was straightforward until I hit the Six Nations reserve. I made it to the city in about 1 hour, 15 minutes - and then, what should have been a 5 or so minute drive, took me 40 minutes of twists and turns and revisions via Google Maps. I found my way, and I was only the 4th latest person there.

I never would have been able to accomplish this task any year but this one.

I was here for one of OTF's Summer Institutes with FNMIEAO, where the theme was reconciliation. 

During the morning introductions, Nancy Rowe said: "If at any point, someone in this circle breaks down and starts crying, we stop everything we are doing to bring that person back to where we are. Western society has it all wrong, you know." Inevitably, three people cry - and I am not yet one. They stop the circle to give clean water to drink from a copper cup - Nancy says "We shed the dirty water and replace it with the clean. Crying is healthy." 

It reminds me of Firekeeper Rob, whom I met not this past November, but the one before, who said "In Western society, they give you a tissue. Essentially, this says 'Stop crying'. We don't encourage people to stop crying. We give them water, to replenish." 

Nancy says something along the lines of "Nothing is scripted. Sometimes I say something and I do not know why. Why was I talking about crying? Ah. The spirits sometimes come in."

In the afternoon, we participated in the KAIROS Blanket Exercise, which sort of shakes everyone to the core. Educators, I suggest that this is something you take into consideration.

Later on, we carpooled to the Woodland Cultural Centre, which is the former site of the Mohawk Residential School. I've toured this place before - but this time, it was with survivor Geronimo Henry, who stayed there for over 10 years, year-round. He talked about the importance of telling stories with interspersions of humour, even if they were not largely funny. He touched on the day-to-day experiences, as well as residual and intergenerational trauma. It really got to me. I asked if I could take a photo of his tattoo, which he said was meant to be a memorial to his survival, and how he was once only a number.

He said, "Sure, and you're not the only one to ever ask." He tells us he thinks it was in Time Magazine, or something.

My trip was cut short due to a clerical error (Edit: Mine). There was no room booked at our lodging in my name. I did not cry; I made it home in one fell swoop, and was sick for 36 hours. I'm still waiting on clarity.

[Original goal list posted here.]

Completed: #35. go on a road trip

"I like the peace

in the backseat.

I don't have to drive.

I don't have to speak.

I can watch the countryside

and I can fall asleep.

My family tree's losing all its leaves.

Crashing toward the driver's seat.

The lightning bolt made enough heat

to melt the street beneath your feet.

Alice died

in the night.

I've been learning to drive my whole life.

My whole life, I've been learning."

"In the Backseat", The Arcade Fire.

---

I am no stranger to long drives. Gaspé, Quebec, the land from which I largely descend, and where my extended family is rooted, is at least a sixteen hour drive. (I'm told it is quintessentially "Canadian" to measure distances in hours. I mean, it will always be 5 km, but not always 5 minutes, right? I don't know. This is what we do. Anyway.) We'd trek it every summer. Some kids had cottages. I had Gaspé. (It's now regarded as one of Canada's greatest hidden gems - which I wager means it won't be hidden for much longer. I'm not surprised.)

I've had an affinity for the above song for as long as it has been since first I heard it. 11 years, at least, I guess. My whole life has been about being a passenger. I have long been afraid to drive. I have twice gone through the motions of learning. I wouldn't have passengers for the first couple years of driving on my own, and I still caution each potential passenger with "You know I'm not a good driver, okay?" We all have our skills. Confidence in most things is not mine.

There were entire stretches of time where I stumbled upon others calling me "the mute", my voice dusty and lost somewhere in the recesses of my throat. I am not that person anymore - and, though, often I wish I still were, because I'm sure I'd be easier to tolerate - there's something to be gained in learning to speak my truth. In learning to drive.

Geoff's father lives in Deep River, which is at least a six hour drive. Life is not equally as kind to anyone, and he is not in the greatest of health at the moment. This is a trek I promised to make since our first week of dating, Geoff and I, before I had even driven us anywhere. I meant it, always, in my heart of hearts. 

It's been a year and a half, but we did it - and, for this, I feel more capable.

Garage sales are where first I noticed Geoff's supreme skills of navigation. You'd have to be family, close friends, or coworkers of mine to know that this skill was somehow obliterated from my own genetic makeup. We are, in this way, an ideal pair. I've got the wheels and he's got the map.

Speaking of sales, we managed to hit up a few here. I think one of my coolest finds was this authentic gumball machine from the 50s. It needs a good cleaning before it's at all functional, but I think it will be a cool games room feature in our new house rental.

We also visited an antiques trading post, and an authentic First Nations' souvenir shop. I have family gifts pretty much covered until Christmas.

The landscape is also beautiful - almost reminiscent in part of my childhood Gaspé summers.

We'd like to make this a summer tradition. There are some 10-person cabins. Friends, you are welcome.

I am grateful for this landscape, for this little glimpse into lives that are now intertwined with mine, for this road trip, for my love.

I've been learning to drive my whole life. 
My whole life, I've been learning.

[Original goal list posted here.]