When I was about eight or nine years old, my parents sent me to the YMCA Day camp in NY. It was not far from the Westchester County Airport. I went alone; none of my friends from River Park Apartments went, just me.
I have no idea why this memory hit me like a ton of bricks about six months ago, but it did, and here I am writing about it.
When I arrived, Dad dropped me off I was shy and felt alone. But the councilors tried to make me feel right at home. When I entered the main building, the first thing I noticed was the beautiful American Indian Headdresses. They were majestic and colorful. I was awe-struck; it hit me like a wrecking ball. I went from lonely to a feeling of belonging. The headdresses belonged to the councilors. I have no idea if they purchased them or made them. The American Indian culture was the theme of the camp. We spent the day playing games, don’t ask me what games because I don’t remember. Okay, maybe my memory isn’t as good as I think it is. Either way, I continue. I do remember going into the pool. I had a poor self-image, I felt fat, hell, I was fat, and I didn’t want to take off my shirt, but back then, it wasn’t an option.
Then there were the Coup Sticks; they were about one to two inches thick and were maybe five feet long. They had holes drilled in them. The holes were for feathers; now, this is a little hazy, but we would get a feather whenever we accomplished something. Man, did I want to fill the Coup stick with those beautiful feathers. I wanted to be a part of this; no, I needed to be a part of this for some reason that I could not grasp.
We also made bracelets & necklaces from beads; I really sucked at that. I do not remember if I ever got to finish one. If you are saying to yourself, Wouldn’t you still have those bracelets and Coup stick if you accomplished anything to get a feather or perhaps still have the bracelet? Not with my mother; she threw everything out. I found a musket ball, also known as grapeshot (from the American Revolution), while snorkeling in Lake George. She threw that out as well, but I digress. I have always felt a strong connection to the American Indian. To me, they were mystical, strong people who had a greater awareness than we did. I wonder if all this has something to do with me being a caulbearer?
As many of you are aware, I know things with no explanation, nothing logical at least, could the following be where my answer lies? I have no idea, but I’m open to anything. Now may be the time, maybe this old memory is the beginning of my search for answers. I did a past life regression years ago. I saw myself as an American Indian scout, deep in the woods, I was running away from someone. When I made it safely out of the woods,s I was in an opening where a woman was waiting for me, the love I felt for her was incredible. Take from that what you may; the connection is real even to this day.
Note I should say here that perhaps my memory of the small details is slightly off, but believe me, the major facts have snuck their way from the depths of my brain, maybe it will help me explain to myself why the American Indian has always had a place in my heart, mind & soul… No, I am not saying I think I was an Indian or am connected in any way to them; my DNA didn’t show an inkling that I was, not in the physical sense anyway. I have zero DNA connecting me with them.
Always Remain Hopeful, Never Hopeless. Always be optimistic, never Pessimistic.