Dear Shiloh, I am listening, with my own tears flowing, about your little eight year old’s experience. Although it was a challenging time, your love for your parents shines through it all, perhaps this is why it is so tender on your heart and difficult to share. Holding you in my embrace, for the courage in sharing your memoirs that have shaped who you are today. Thank you.
I'm sitting outside with my morning coffee , listening to you.
I'm trying so hard to not spiral out of myself , as I try to help my mother who is quickly sliding away into dementia .
I have been mostly estranged from my family for years , due to abuse of many kinds , but find myself sucked back into their vortex .
As I listen to you - navigating and remembering your complex past, I am reminded of mine. Also holding tight to the truth that the past doesn't define me , but informs who I am.
I will survive this storm - swirling, remaining embodied , a creative , beautiful being .Like you .
I have followed your creative journey / teachings for years .
Thank you for being the Way shower , creatrix, and light bringer you are .
A big education for an 8 year old. It was a different world in the 70’s. Being black was a recipe for challenges. Coming from a mixed race family myself, I have an experience as a 7 year old of shame and anger from my father. A friend of the family who was progressive gave me a land rights sticker, which I put on dad’s car. He was so angry when he saw it and ripped it off. I didn’t understand it. He was black, yet making a statement political or otherwise about being proud to be aboriginal was not ok. The racism in Australia was second to none. Poor dad. He had suffered. His family had suffered being mixed race in the 50’s. It caused my little 7 year old self much confusion and shame not understanding why people were simply not loving and kind.
Dear Shiloh, I am listening, with my own tears flowing, about your little eight year old’s experience. Although it was a challenging time, your love for your parents shines through it all, perhaps this is why it is so tender on your heart and difficult to share. Holding you in my embrace, for the courage in sharing your memoirs that have shaped who you are today. Thank you.
Oh beloved Shiloh.
Thank you for sharing your stories.
I'm sitting outside with my morning coffee , listening to you.
I'm trying so hard to not spiral out of myself , as I try to help my mother who is quickly sliding away into dementia .
I have been mostly estranged from my family for years , due to abuse of many kinds , but find myself sucked back into their vortex .
As I listen to you - navigating and remembering your complex past, I am reminded of mine. Also holding tight to the truth that the past doesn't define me , but informs who I am.
I will survive this storm - swirling, remaining embodied , a creative , beautiful being .Like you .
I have followed your creative journey / teachings for years .
Thank you for being the Way shower , creatrix, and light bringer you are .
Deep Bow , love and gratitude .
Kat
A truly powerful story to witness. Thank you for sharing your vulnerability, your insights and your love for others.
Witnessing and sending so much love to your wee 8 yr old self. 🤗🥰❤️
A big education for an 8 year old. It was a different world in the 70’s. Being black was a recipe for challenges. Coming from a mixed race family myself, I have an experience as a 7 year old of shame and anger from my father. A friend of the family who was progressive gave me a land rights sticker, which I put on dad’s car. He was so angry when he saw it and ripped it off. I didn’t understand it. He was black, yet making a statement political or otherwise about being proud to be aboriginal was not ok. The racism in Australia was second to none. Poor dad. He had suffered. His family had suffered being mixed race in the 50’s. It caused my little 7 year old self much confusion and shame not understanding why people were simply not loving and kind.
Beyond words for me Sending love and long hugs
Wow, so touching!