Attitudes presented at that time created conflicting subconscious concerns
that were not voiced or right - nice girls were taught to keep their mouths
closed, to speak when spoken to, their legs crossed in skirts and they were
the property of men. At that time, women could not own property - cars or
houses. There was an understood attitude that men had all the rights and
there was definitely a double standard.

This lingering attitude of sweet magnolias, boot leg whiskey, black people
and the old plantation did give the world great writers and artists. It was
the attitude that there was no voice, which kept words and attitudes
private, but also, gave the world the written secrets that come out sooner
or later. How to tell the story and go around the barriers became an inner
voice that drives one to proclaim their heart.

But what’s a girl to do? I was told that there was no need to learn math,
along with other subjects that were predominantly male oriented. They told
me that men do what they want and use whoever they want, but this is not an
option for women. The lies lead to more lies and with the double standard,
the options for women were not exciting or adventurous.

Being a member of the Birmingham Civic Ballet Company, presented some
equality. Discipline, hard work and dedication were the measure for success
that came my way due to a director from New York. However, after visiting
dancing compadres in New York, who were making dancing their life’s work, I
saw that it was not the life I wanted to lead and I changed my life’s focus
and direction.

Simultaneously at this time, my family’s life was falling apart due to
alcohol and drugs. I was raised in a wealthy family and I watched as my
family dissolved. I witnessed that money gives you things, but there was
something missing that would take a life time to understand and heal. I knew
that money couldn't buy values or love.

I had lived a fairy tale life that was ending, but there was also, beauty.
With my father, I saw the glory of a frost filled morning with the sun
coming up over that golden empty and barren cotton fields when the dogs were
gathered to hunt that first day of hunting season. It was the way he held
his mouth that you could see it in the silence of frosty breath. Too, there
was fishing for the sake of being in that peace on the water that sparkled.
Through him one could see how beautiful the Creator had made it all, and he
was one with it.

My mother, who - somewhere is probably a ditzy saint, lived for and through
her man. She was tiny, always a blond and fully understanding where her
bread was buttered. Since she was a product of her time, there was always
fun, a cocktail, music that she played by ear, flower arranging, the Garden
Club and the Poker Club. In the early times, I remember her taking time and
coloring along in coloring books, teaching me how to crochet, embroider, and
wrecking her best sewing machine.

My mother’s world fell apart when my father one day didn't’t know where or who
he was. This physical condition was due to the combination of drugs and
alcohol, leaving my mother to maintain and survive in a world where she had
no understanding or training. She had never been responsible for money,
maintaining the home or working a job. My sister and I just looked at each
other when it was understood that our mother did not even know how to write
a check and that she had been at such mercy with her fairy tale, womanizing,
hard drinking husband.

I married a bright and shiny star to my family. He was an electrical
engineer and was working on the fourth stage of the original Saturn with
NASA. He was a provider, but a womanizer, and a tyrant, who expected
certain things to always be a certain way - two pieces of bacon, two eggs
over medium and toast every morning at 6:30. He dictated how I was to dress
and the activities that I was allowed to do. When he was twenty five years
old and our child was three months old, he died from a cerebral hemorrhage.

There was a deep shock, fear of what to do or how to live my life, along
with being really angry with God. I found there was whole world waiting
that I never knew and now had the excuse to live it. I decided to go to
school so that I could be responsible for myself to insure that my son would
have his freedom to live his own life. I always felt that a child was
someone on loan to you and they were never really anyone’s possession. I
wanted him to have everything that was important, mainly truth, honesty, a
kind and generous heart.

From the experiences of being in an alcoholic family and the sudden death of
my husband, I searched for a spiritual answer to the reasons for living.
There were many dark days and I tried to find a spiritual answer in many
religions.

Something seemed to always happen with each religion, making me feel that I
didn't belong, and there were all the jobs.

I worked through school, waitressing and taking care of my son. I was fired
from one job in Atlanta, because I was considered a “nigger lover” for
working in Dr. Martin Luther King’s movement, doing menial work in the soup
kitchens, allowing demonstrators to sleep on my floor and attending his
funeral. It was that plantation attitude again.

In the 1960’s I found music and cared for Bob Dylan, mainly. He was someone
that understood how crazy it all was and then there was the war, the Viet
Nam War. This did not make sense at all and there was needless death, broken
spirits, as well as broken bodies. On the one hand, my life was going to a
deeper understanding, a rise in consciousness, and on the other hand, it was
going to hell.

Through out the next few years, I grew in spiritual growth, which finally
gave me something to believe in and hold onto. I had come to the point where
life was pointless, except for raising my child, I had given up. This is
when Spirit comes through, when we need it the most.

I began to have outer body experiences that in the south at that time, I
just could not talk about. One of my outer body experiences happened at a
seminar with a spiritual exercise. In this exercise the facilitator led the
group through a meditation exercise. I went to a land of brilliant, white
light. The land was filled with thousands of diamonds and I picked one up
that filled my hand. I thought that this looked like a soul, and a voice
from the other side, answered, saying that it was and that it was my soul.
When the facilitator said that it was time to come back, I realized that I
didn't want to. I was told that there were things that I needed to do.
This experience led me to realize for myself that there was more to life
than what we see in front of us, and prevented me from taking my own life.

I continued to struggle to find that place of belonging. Many years later, I
was at the Heard Museum in Phoenix when another notable experience happened.
The Heard Museum is a wonderful Native American museum and I was looking at
new abstract work created by different Native Americans. I began to cry and
didn't understand what was going on. I had such a longing without
understanding the feelings, but the overwhelming feeling was one of wanting
to go home.

I had created art work through all this time, graduating with art degrees
and had a career in teaching. I still searched for the answer for the
feeling of home. Like my mother, I had no training in how to take care of
myself and was drawn to husbands that did drugs, alcohol, womanizing, as
well as stealing. I tried to get well and heal from all of it. I just
wanted to get well and I was blessed with counselors that loved and cared
for me.

It is a true miracle that I continue to do art, because while living in
Sedona, Arizona I saw a lot of bad art that was copied, that had no spirit
and dealt with politics. They were reruns of old memories from undergraduate
school and I quit painting.

Later I was encouraged by an old friend to pick the brush back up and to
begin to paint. There were some great books that helped along the way. Late
in the night on a rural farm on the Arizona/New Mexico border, I was reading
Women Who Run With the Wolves, and Ms. Estes writes, “If you are in a place
where no one loves you or cares about you, get the hell out.” As if struck
by lightening, I took notice and sold the farm.

I believe that those of us, who are lost and trying to find our way,
sometimes see that the way is not clear and we wonder, what the heck am I to
do. It takes time and it takes adventures that are best experienced alone.
And we have to admit we don’t know what we are doing. Creator can only do
for us when we are groveling on our knees, but trying. We then and if we are
sincere, get a glimpse of the handwriting on our wall.

I believe that real power happens only when we are able to relinquish it.
Then it is not us anymore, but Spirit working through us. I remember the
words from the medicine man, Fools Crow, in that we should try to become as
a hollow bone for Spirit to work through us.

When I went to my next teaching position in Superior, Arizona, I searched
for a way to continue my art through different avenues rather than the way I
had previously been taught. I believed that Creator had given me a talent
and it was my job to find a way to use it. I was led to a metaphysical
bookstore in Scottsdale, Arizona, where I explained to the store owner that
I was an artist, but didn't know how to use it in a spiritual way. The owner
of the store decided to help me to develop my art in a new way.

I discovered through workshops that I could do portraits and with the help
of the the bookstore owner, I began doing individual’s portraits, along with
animals. This led to combining people with their animal totems through card
readings. I have called the portraiture work “Medicine Art” because of my
desire that each person see their beauty and who they are to give them
encouragement in their journey.

My journey continues because of further experiences that relate to the
Native American path and with Lakota elders, specifically. This path has
given me an understanding about life, our connection to it, its
timelessness, and the continuation of it. It is a personal path, not
delegated by dogma and has made my life richer than I could ever have
imagined.

My work continues now in a very free manner. I begin with washes of inks,
and mixed mediums, allowing it to dry. After putting it away for awhile, I
look at the beginning work again and ask for Spirit to guide me, looking to
see what Spirit wants me to make visible.

There was a memory from undergraduate school where I was drawing late into
the night. I finished the drawing, but something had happened that I didn't
understand. The drawing was definitely mine and was my style, but something
else had come through my hands. It was as if another force moved through my
hands and I had not actually done the drawing. It frightened me then, but
such a wonderful “Ah Ha” moment many years later.

Now I have a better comprehension of that past experience and that
experience gives me understanding of how Spirit can work if we step aside.
As an artist, I believe this is what I hope to achieve each time I step up
to that silence of the easel, being truly alone with myself and Spirit,
making each work my prayer.

I see the continuum and how the experiences of the past has come full
circle, giving me an understanding of where my life is to go, long before I
knew it myself. I also, see how things come along in their own time or when
we chose for them to happen before we are born.

For one, who couldn't’t see how to live in the world, and be a part of it, I
am grateful for my life and I give thanks for all those, who didn't give up
on me and blessed me with their teaching, love and support. I am honored to
have been on this journey with you."

AHO! MITAKUYE OYASIN