“A lot of times, I hear indigenous artists talk about their work almost like it’s a prayer,” said Tehee.
Despite the complications of defining Cherokee “art,” Meredith said the Cherokees are fortunate.
“It’s kind of a blessing that art historians do not write about Cherokee art very much,” she said. “We’re the only ones who write about our own art, so we kind of have that freedom, and we get to direct that conversation.”
Language used to be very sacred (and of course it still is, whether you like it or not). I found this article while looking for root meanings of the Cherokee words used to describe what nowadays we call “art.”
I miss the days when it would have been self-evident why this is important.
If you read it, please show respect. I don’t mean virtue signaling, I mean in your heart of hearts. Acknowledge deeper meaning. Pause.
These subtle but essential understandings of our “humanity” have often come close to being wiped out—when one civilization is conquered by another, and the conqueror doesn’t recognize the spiritual significance of what they are erasing.
Nowadays I see a lot of Caucasian-based “activist” groups policing language in the name of progressive thinking, but often ignoring or trampling on traditional wisdom and meanings in the process. It would be a little bit like zealously cutting down the forest with no regard for its vital ecosystems, to build your own empire, and calling that revolutionary.
I get it. Boundaries are a challenge. A contested tug-o-war of competing ideologies. It’s difficult to approach these boundaries at all, when they are surrounded by civil war.
I would almost wish to stay quiet myself… if I didn’t feel like our civilization is on the brink of some very grave errors. Apocalyptic hubris, leading to societal collapse.
Appropriation has become such a touchy subject that many “activist” groups no longer learn anything about the cultures they are supposedly defending. Elders are removed from the conversation, along with anybody else who doesn’t yield to peer-pressure. Spiritual teachings are laughed out the door and replaced by shoddy “science.”
Histories become revisionist, again and again, as the pendulum swings… we are polarized yet again… some might say hypnotized. Instead of gathering a more complete picture (or “truth”) we adopt a new narrative, a role-reversal, a plot twist. But, to what end?
They back us into corners when we speak, slander our words with malapropisms, and deaden any conversation. Lateral violence has become rampant, with agent provocateurs SCREAMING their agenda IN ALL CAPS over the megaphone that is algorithms. It’s supposed to be a protest in defense of the disinherited, but meanwhile those voices are being drowned out.
Good luck getting a “word” in above the twitter dirge and witch hunt sh!tstorms. Nobody stops to consider who actually benefits from this Tower of Babel.
Who writes the algorithms?
Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
You remember how we used to say…the inter*net has shown us how inter-connected we all are?
Hatred has consumed the hearts of so many people, so many of US, and that blaze won’t settle until it burns down everything in its path and extinguishes itself–or until somebody else puts it out.
May the storm clouds lend themselves to lightning that precedes rain.
May the rain be followed by new growth.