The Fall

One of my biggest fears was the train bridge. Simply walking across it scared me half to death. It ran across a ravine with a creek at the bottom of it. Emily, being the daredevil that she is, always laughed at how scared I was. She and her friends had no problem at all just running across it, climbing atop it, and repelling from it.

When I went home for Em's graduation, one night Em and Steve decided they wanted to repel off the bridge. I wanted so bad to take a big risk, I wanted to feel alive, so I told her I would do it too. She laughed and said I would back out once I got there.

When we got to the bridge, Em and Holden set up the ropes and went first. They did it with such ease. I sat there watching them, clinging to the railing. At one point Steve barely touched me and I freaked out. Steve went, and then it was my turn. I got strapped into my harness and tried to psyche myself up.

To do this you have to climb over the edge of the bridge and get your feet onto a very small platform. At that point you have to switch ropes, from the one that was holding you to the bridge to the one that allows you to repel down. Holden got me strapped in and ready to go. I thought getting onto the platform was the hard part but I was wrong. You have to lower yourself with the rope so that your feet are still on the platform and your head is level with your feet. Once you are to this point you have to drop you feet from the platform and hope that as you swing towards the bridge, you went far enough so that you don't hit your head on the platform. I sat in this position for what seemed like an eternity. I was shaking.
I came to realize that the only way to get to the good part was to fall. I had to let go of the platform, of safety, and fall so that I could enjoy the rest of the ride. Once I did, I felt such a relief. I lowered myself to the ground and I felt such elation for having done something that scared me so much.

Such is life.

Sometimes we have to let go, and fall. We have to forget the "what-ifs" and trust that the rope will catch us.

It is scary putting trust in something outside of yourself. Hoping that you can rely on something or somebody else to catch you.

But falling is something we have to do. If we don't fall we will never enjoy the ride.

I thought he walked on water

3:43 AM Caller ID said "Cory" and I knew it couldn't be good.

My half-asleep daze quickly faded as I answered.

"Char we are on our way to Portola right now, Grandpa probably isn't going to make it through the night. Can you let everyone else in your family know?," The only words I could think to say were, Just let grandpa know Goombie loves him.

In quiet hysteria I called home and told my parents. My mom told me to try and get some sleep but to me that seemed impossible. Alone, in the darkness of my apartment living room, I cried. I cried for the potential loss of a man I loved very much--a man that had touched my life in ways no other could have. Finally I cried myself to sleep, only to get up an hour later to go to school to take a test.

I tried to put on a brave face, to pretend like my world was not about to crash down around me. On the bus on the way to school I was doing good, but then I thought of him and tears flooded my eyes, I looked out the window and tried to gain my composure. It was hard. When you know something is inevitable, every minute leading up to that moment is harder than the one that preceded it. It was a waiting game--a game I did not want to play.

I hate waiting. I hate not knowing when something is going to happen, if it even happens at all. The worst part was that I couldn't do anything. I was stuck and there was nothing I could do to help him. I would have given anything to be by his side and gotten to at least say goodbye. It wasn't suppose to be like this. He was suppose to be there when I got married and when I had my first kid. He was suppose to be there for ever.

I felt regret for not spending more time with him. I never got to go and explore the train tunnels with him like we had planned when I was just 7 years old. I wish I could have spent more summer nights sitting in the front yard in lawn chairs just shooting the breeze and watching the cars go by. I wanted to go to more railroad days with him and hear the stories from his life.

I got to go home for the funeral and I was doing just fine until I walked into my grandmas house. I sat on the couch and looked down the hallway. I saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked so beautiful as she unpinned her curlers and her locks of curly hair fell to frame her brave face. I realized how much stronger she was than I. She was holding it together and all I could do was get outside to keep myself from breaking down.

We got to the church house and went into the viewing room. I held Cory's hand as I went to see him one last time. It all came pouring out. There was not a dry eye in the room except for one--Mason. As we all cried uncontrollably, he went around the room asking why we were all so sad. Dont cry guys, you still have me! he said. He took a tissue and patted the tears from the cheek of my sister. We'll see him again. His childhood innocence was so profound. He had the right perspective. He reminded all of us that this was not the end. It was a hard day, a day that I will not soon forget, but it was a day that I learned a lot. I learned that sometimes wisdom comes from unexpected places and that you can't live life with regrets.

My cousin sang a song at the grave site that encompassed a lot of what we all felt.

He wore starched white shirts buttoned at the neck,
And he'd sit in the shade and watch the chickens peck.
And his teeth were gone, but what the heck,
I thought that he walked on water.

He said he was a cowboy when he was young.
He could handle a rope and he was good with a gun.
And my mama's daddy was his oldest son,
-- And I thought that he walked on water.

If the story's told, only heaven knows.
But his hat seemed to me like an old halo.
And although his wings, they were never seen.
I thought that he walked on water.

Then he tied a cord to the end of a mop,
And said, "Son, here's a pony, keep her at a trot."
And I'd ride in circles while he laughed a lot.
Then I'd flop down beside him.
And he was ninety years old in sixty-three
And I loved him and he loved me.
And lord, I cried the day he died,
'Cause I thought that he walked on water.

If the story's told, only heaven knows.
But his hat seemed to me like an old halo.
And although his wings, they were never seen.
I thought that he walked on water.

I miss the way my Grandpa was able to guess the contents of a present just by feeling it. I miss the way he'd take out his dentures and make us laugh when he had no teeth. He was the one I would run to when I got a sliver in my finger or dropped my favorite necklace down the drain in the bathroom sink. He absolutely loved black licorice and would sneak it in the last days when he was not suppose to have it at all. He was good with cars and could fix anything. I loved how he would always bring a carton of vanilla and orange checkered ice cream to birthdays and how no matter what condition he was in, would come to every family get together. Even when he could only walk three steps before having to sit down and rest, he was there. He made sure my boyfriend treated me right and when I came to college my first year, the one question he asked me from his hospital bed was if I was happy. He loved us all so much and truly cared about our well being.

The truth is that he didn't walk on water. No one does. He was an amazing man and did amazing things but he was human. As hard as he fought to overcome his illness, it got him. We need to remember that life is short and that we can't miss out on the opportunities to do memorable things with the ones we love. And Lord I cried, the day he died 'cause I thought he walked on water.

Native American Sweat Lodge

I experienced something amazing recently. I love my Native American heritage and I had the opportunity to go and participate in a sweat lodge that my sisters friend had built. A sweat lodge is something that Native Americans have used for a long time to cleanse themselves. It is a very ritualistic and symbolic thing.

It was prompted by the influence of European culture with its corrupting effect on native culture. With the introduction of alcohol and the inhumane treatment of native people, the need to re-purify themselves and find their way back to traditional ways of living became evident, as they were becoming increasingly poisoned by European culture. The Sweat Lodge Ceremony was the answer.

With the help of Medicine Men and Women, they could repair the damage done to their spirits, their minds and their bodies. The Sweat Lodge is a place of spiritual refuge and mental and physical healing, a place to get answers and guidance by asking spiritual entities, totem helpers, the Creator and Mother Earth for the needed wisdom and power.

In my experience we crawled into the sweat lodge and took our places around the pit in the middle. Glowing red rocks that had been sitting in the fire all day were brought in one by one. As each was lain down I would touch sweet grass to the rocks while my sister touched sage and another person tossed tobacco on them---all to pay tribute to ancestors. Once all the rocks were in place and we were already dripping with sweat, the door was closed and we began the first round. Every minute or so the leader would throw a cup of water infused with eucalyptus oil onto the rocks, sending a wave of steam at us. It was almost overwhelming. You had to concentrate on every single breathe. My eyes stayed closed to stop the sweat from dripping into them. In the darkness as I heard the cup being dipped into the water bucket, I braced myself for the next wave of heat. Twenty minutes had gone by and round one was over.

The door was opened but you stay inside. Weakness hit me. I could feel what was being taken away from me. We drank water as even more rocks were brought in for the second round. More rocks meant more heat. I knew my mind would be tested.

The door closed and round 2 began. In this round we lied down. It was a symbolic gesture. The heat was so intense you had to humble yourself--get as close to the ground as possible and breathe in through the dirt. The air down there was cooler. This round was silent. We all were within our own minds---willing ourselves to keep going. We knew our bodies could handle the heat but it was our minds that we had to convince otherwise.

Finally, we decided it was time to get out. We crawled out through the small opening in the lodge and it was when the cold air hit my face that I realized how close to passing out I was. The dizziness lasted only a moment and then the best feeling in the world hit me. I felt so clean, so pure. I lied on the grass and looked up at the vast sky---every star was visible. I could feel my heart pounding hard through my body. This was the most amazing experience of my life.To go through something really hard, something that tests you both physically and mentally, and then have such a great reward is priceless.

SORE

It was pitch black and my flashlight had just burnt out. I had been hiking for an hour with friends at 1 in the morning and we still had 4 hours to go to get to the top of the mountain in time to see the sun rise. I was scared to death. The trail was about a foot and a half wide and even though I could not see what lay to the side of the trail, I could sense that it was cliffs. With every step I could feel the weakness in my legs, but I pushed on, one unsteady step at a time, because turning back was simply not an option.

We had began the hike with a group of about 20 people, but before long we all got separated so it was just 4 of us. After my light had burnt out I had to rely on Ricky. Every few steps he would shine his light back towards me to make sure I didn't step wrong on a rock and go tumbling into the darkness. It was hard relying on someone else for my own safety.Not being in control just added to my fears.

At one point the trail we were on began going down the mountain when we knew we were suppose to be going up. The other guy that was with us found an "alternative" route and so we followed him. Before I knew it, I was scaling what seemed to be an 80 degree cliff. I clung to whatever vegetation I could to pull myself up to safety(on the way down we discovered it was a dry waterfall bed). Finally, we reached our destination. We still had some time before the sun rose and so we huddled together in a little shack, in the freezing cold, waiting. I could not wait to get myself off of that mountain. The second I saw the sun rise I took a few moments and enjoyed the beauty that was before me. It was an amazing sight and for a split second I was glad I had made this trip--but then reality set in again and then I booked it down the mountain, leaving everyone else in the dust. I wanted this ordeal to be over and the easiest solution to that was to get down as fast as possible. I practically ran. When I reached the bottom, a good hour before anyone else. I just sat there, so happy to finally be done, to finally not be in danger.

If I had known what I was getting into before I had done it, I know I would have never found myself on that mountain. It was the best thing for me to do that hike in the dark, to not see the dangers that lay to the side of me. Sometimes I think it is best we dont see the whole picture. Its best to leave some things in the dark.

I have been asked before if I would ever like to know the day I was going to die, and it always seemed like a tough decision. On one hand if you knew, you could make sure you did everything you wanted to do before you died, and not have any regrets, but on the other hand, you would live each day with that knowledge looming over you that that day was one less that you got to live. If we see everything before us, all the details laid out, life would be different. We would take less risks because we could see the dangers and the potential failures. Yes, that hike was difficult, more on my mind than anything else, but if I had not done it, I would have missed out on that magnificent sunrise, and the feeling of accomplishment and gratitude for my life that I had when I was sitting in that parking lot waiting for everyone else to come down off the mountain.

Some of the best moments in my life have come in times when I have done something risky, something scary, things that if I had known what it would be like before I had done it, I probably would not have even attempted it. In these moments I have truly felt alive. They make me realize that to have the life I want, I need to feel this way more often.

In the day to day life that most of us lead I feel like we become numb. We do the same thing day in and day out. People think I am weird but one of my favorite feelings in the world is being sore. Feeling sore makes me feel alive. Every movement makes me feel like I am doing something--being something--just like wanting to be pinched when you think you are dreaming--that pain, that discomfort, that break from monotony reminds you that you are there and that you are alive.

As cliche as it is, we need to live each day to the fullest--take risks--feel alive. We need to be sore more often.

Medicine Man

Above my bed is a giant picture of an Indian Chief. I do not know who this man is, what tribe he comes from, or what he did in his life, but what I do know is that he is familiar to me.

Whenever I tell people that I am part Native American, they look at me with a skeptical eye and that confused look is usually followed by laughter. Maybe they laugh because of my blonde hair or maybe its because of my pale white skin--but no matter the reasoning, they usually don't believe me.

I am proud of my heritage. I do not claim to know very much about the history of my people because I don't, but all my life I have felt a connection to these people and their culture. I remember when I was 5 years old, I was playing with our neighbors in their backyard in Portola. We found some arrowheads in their backyard and I kept them as treasures from the past. When I was 10 and we moved to a house in Loomis, the backyard had Indian grinding stones and we would go and gather acorns, grind them up in the holes and pretend like we were the Indian women making dinner for the tribe. To us this was just fun and games but in a way it always came with a sense of reverence.

When I was 15 I took a trip with my dad to my Grandmas house. We went the long way and made a few sidetrips. We turned off the main highway, crossed the river and started descending down on a dirt road barely big enough to fit the car. We finally got to the bottom and it was a small railroad camp. My dad pointed to a spot by the river. That spot was where my great grandma Nina Wood was born in a teepee. I remembering thinking--this is SO cool!

My dad and all his siblings went to register for the tribe and when they walked into the office, the people just stared at them. They thought at first--maybe they think we are imposters--but when they talked to the people they found that the stares came because they looked exactly like relatives of these people. The people in the office pulled out the geneology books and they showed my dad and his siblings the family tree and where they fit into it. They belonged to this tribe and its nice to belong to something.

As I have come to college I have been blessed to get my education for free because of my heritage. But along with that has come the need to defend my heritage and that I actually belong. People take one look at me and they see my Norwegian heritage. But if they looked closer they would see my high cheekbones and my big-boned build. They would see the Indian in me.

I was hanging out with a friend of mine a lot when he had gotten sick. He was worried that he would give me what he had but I told him not to worry, because I am strong and I never get sick. He replied by saying--Oh yeah you got that medicine man watching over you at night--I just laughed but at the same time I realized I kind of feel safer and watched over with him there. The wrinkles next to his eyes remind me of the wrinkles next to my Grandma's eyes. The look of leather in his skin reminds me of my great Grandpa Wood. Whats in the big chief on my ceiling is in my Grandma and its in my Great Grandpa and it is in me.

Two years ago we had a family reunion. We were all sitting in a pavillion outside after our annual golf-tournament and our family started talking about things we remembered. My dad started sharing how my great Grandpa Wood always wanted the family to be together. He said that he would be sad that people were missing from this reunion. We all sat there with tears in our eyes and I think we realized that we had strayed from what was most important--family. In our heritage the tribe was a group of people organized for mutual care and benefit. They looked out for one another. We had let our tribe disintegrate. We had lost people we cared about. Hopefully one day we can all be together again and care for one another like we should.

I love my heritage because it gives me a sense of who I am. As the old saying goes--you can't know where you are going until you know where you have been. I am who I am because of my family.

So when people call me Sacajawea or give me a blanket as a joke I, I take it with a smile because it reminds me of who I am and what an amazing place I come from. And when I go to sleep at night I look up at the big chief and know that I am watched over and that I will always have somewhere to go.

Emotion

In Mitch Alboms Tuesdays With Morrie, he talks about emotions (great book, read it if you havnt already). In life we have things happen to us that enlist certain feelings, some good and some bad. Morrie believed that we should not let our emotions run our life. When we feel sadness or despair, we should not let it control us for more than a moment. When we feel something, we should recognize it for what it is. Say to yourself, this is sadness. I recognize that I am sad, I am going to live these few moments of sadness and then move on.

I think sometimes when things in life happen, like a loved one dying we have a hard time getting through it. We live in our emotions for longer than we should. Life does not wait for us to get over things.

I remember when I was 2 maybe 3 years old my Grandpa passed away. He had come to stay with us because he had Cancer and needed help. That day I had walked up to the high school with my dad to get something from his classroom and when we came back there were ambulences in front of our house. I remember my mom putting all us girls in her bedroom and we couldnt help but peek out and see the paramedics people running down the hallway. He died that day. The next thing I remember was sitting next to my dad on the church pew at the funeral. I distinctly remember looking up and seeing a tear roll down his cheek. That was the first time I remember seeing my dad cry.

I think a lot of people refuse to have emotions or at least show them. When something hard happens they bottle them up inside, until one day they just lose it. I think Morrie is right when he said that we should allow ourselves moments to live in our emotions, but only moments. If we allow ourselves to give into the sadness and despair, just fully live it and recognize it for what it is, we can then move on. When we bottle it up we are just giving it a chance to eat at us slowly.

I am grateful that I saw my dad cry that day. I think that I got my emotions from him. If anyone knows me at all, they know that I cry pretty easily when I feel something. Its almost embarrassing. Every time I go to say goodbye to someone in my family, I always see them look at me to see if I am crying, and I always try to pretend like I am okay but the second my gaze meets their eyes it all comes flooding out--but I live in that moment and then I move on. I recognize my emotions and then I live my life. It is okay to cry and it is okay to feel things. You are not weak if you do. My dad lives his emotions but he does not let them run his life. When he feels touched he lets the tears come and I admire that.

How to Save a Life

And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life.

I never knew how much a part of me he was until he was gone. I wished that I could have been there with him, held his hand, let him know how much Goombie loved him.

He always apologized for calling me that as I grew older. He said he knew I was all grown up but that it was just a habit that had carried through the years. I wish I would have told him how much joy it brought me to hear him call me that. There wasn't a sweeter sound to my ears. When he called me that, I felt so loved, I felt important.


He was a man that all men should revere. He was simple, he was quiet. But his actions spoke volumes. He would just sit on his front lawn, watching us play, not saying much, but yet we all knew how much he loved and cared for all of us. As I transitioned into a new phase of my life, from his hospital bed he spoke one sentence, in his gruff little voice, that allowed me to feel more loved by him than any other action or long speech could have conveyed. His simpleness and his quiet way was so powerful. I know he is happy now, and in a better place than this, but I miss him. I cant think of him in any capacity without tears flooding my eyes. He is that kind of man. Mourning for this man will never end for anyone who knew him at all.

On the day that we gathered to mourn his loss, we as his grandchildren didn't know what to do, so we sang. Driving down the highway to the place where he would lay to rest, all stricken with the same grief, we sang. We would have stayed up with him all night, had we known how to save a life. The words rang true in all our hearts. Not one of us would have rather been anywhere else in the world, but at his side. I would give anything to have him here with us, to see us grow and progress in life.

But then the next song came on, and I think we all resignated with the feelings of peace the song conveyed. If I don't say this now I will surely break. My heart has started to separate. Oh Oh Oh, I'll look after you. He was with us. He was looking after us just as he always did from the lawn chair on his front lawn, but this time it was a heavenly seat.

We love him, and we will always love him. He is not here with us but his memory lives on. As small and simple as he was, he will never be forgotten. Ever.

I would have stayed up with you all night.
Had I known how to save a life.