Community building requires community healing. And what does that look like?

"Staying ‘home’ and not venturing out from our own group comes from woundedness, and stagnates our growth. To bridge means loosening our borders, not closing off to others….To bridge is to attempt community, and for that we must risk being open to personal, political, and spiritual intimacy, to risk being wounded."- Gloria Anzaldua

"Quedarse en la casa'' y no aventurarse fuera de nuestro propio grupo viene donde estamos heridos y proviene nuestro crecimiento. Para hacer puentes signifa que abriemos mas de nuestras fronteras y que no cierremos a otros… Para hacer puentes es intentar comunidad, y para eso tenemos que corre el riesgo de ser abierto a personal, político y espiritual intimidad, a correr el riesgo de ser heridos. "
Gloria Anzaldua

Everybody is waiting for the movement to happen ! And we dont realize we are the movement. Its me and you coming together and having some honest and maybe painful truthtelling between us. But there is probably some beautiful thing we will create together as a result. I want to speak to each person in my community.Let's get the party going.

Todo el mundo está esperando a que el movimiento a ocurrir! Y nosotros no darse cuenta de que somos el movimiento. Comienza la communidad cuando usted y yo tienemos algunos conversaciones doloroso pero verdarosos . Pero es probable que algunos bellos cosas que es probablemente vamos a crear juntos . Quiero hablar con cada person en mi communidad.Vamos a comienzar esta fiesta !

Sunday, June 3, 2012


Mi MAIZ es mi RAIZ
I am gonna speak to you as if you never were forced to forget you are India. I am gonna speak to you as like I am your village or tribal storyteller. I am gonna speak to you because you belong to me and I belong to you. I am gonna speak so you will remember who you are and where you came from, India. And I am gonna speak to you so you won’t have an excuse to not pass it on. I am gonna tell you, so I won’t forget. And I am gonna tell you because the there is a heaviness we live with that makes us forget and together, we can lift it off once and for all. SOMOS INDIAS.
Each of us is a seed for more corn.
Many years ago when our people lived… not just existed, it was the land…. la tierra ….earth that mattered the most.
That was the center of our universe.
We were in the now moment and not busy with work that was for profit or money. We worked to feed everybody. We shared more and thought more about each other. We weren’t working for the master or landowner or other bully. We weren’t slaves. No one owned the land. Earth was spirit. Earth was worshipped and treated like it was holy. When we were more into la tierra, Earth was church. Earth still is.
The earth was given more attention. All things evolved around the earth. We weren’t into our looks or our money. What we were going to eat was far more important. Food occupied our body hearts and minds. Corn was sacred.
Corn was more sacred to us than our Ford F150 or Explorer. It was more sacred or important than the Harley Davidson motorcycle. It was more sacred than beer, weed, sex and crack. Corn was more sacred than the Texas Longhorn football game or the Spurs winning the next game. Next to corn, I suspect rest and play were next in importance. Air and water were important but I place that under the category: Earth…La Tierra.
My father, Joe Chagoya, who was a master landscaper and arborist, gardener and farmer, horse whisperer, and water dowser used to tell me that he wanted me to go to Texas A &M and study agriculture. I used to roll my eyes and say to myself ugh why?????? I went instead to the rival University of Texas. But I still have my daddy’s earthiness.
He used lay out in the grass outside when we went out en la monte and say, “Ahhhhhh…..smell that country air!” Daddy was puro indio. Tree climber. Chango. Tarzan, my pops. Had my daddy lived more outside, I don’t think my dad would have drank as much.
When I would help daddy till the dirt and plant the seed for the garden, afterwards, I would be all sweaty and hot but I used to love to lay on my back between the rows of dirt. It made me happy and one with universe. It made me feel joyful and satisfied-accomplished and victorious. Don’t know why I still just love to lay down on dirt. Earth
Corn. Maybe I am planted with corn too when I do that. Maybe la tierra makes our bodies feel happy in places where things are fertile and growing. Maybe laying that close to the earth on our skin makes us remember why we are born.
Maybe it makes us feel closer to creator or at least makes us closer to something special. Maybe that special feeling is that you are holy in the a place that’s holy. Holy like when you are in the room when a baby is being born.
I am gonna speak to you as if you were never made to forget you are an indian. I don’t care what you think or say.
Hey, Skin.
You Redskin. You Redskin that looks like Whiteskin or maybe
Maybe Meskin acting like no skin.
I am specially talking to you.
Hellooooo, the eagle eating a snake on the cactus Meskin?
Hello nopal on your forehead Indian!
Maybe you a forgot Nauhatl Indian.
Maybe not.
Maybe you a forgotten Swahili Indian.
Maybe you a Gaelic forgotten Indian.
Maybe you lost your tongue Indian.
Maybe you lost Indian.
Maybe you lost.
Now you found.
Corn comes in many colors.