My sister imparted to me the other day that she had her
totems read. At least that’s what I
understood her to say. She tells me that
her left-brain is ruled by the horse and the right-brain is ruled by the
bear. And then she said that of course
this is true because she is very creative like the horse. With no offense to my sister, I was almost
compelled to ask her why a horse is more creative than a bear? Or any other animal in the animal
kingdom. Or a human. It seems to me that horses aren’t necessarily
creative. I grew up on a farm and we had
horses. I love horses, and they are
beautiful animals. However, they are not
that creative. They usually don’t have
to forage for food, don’t have to figure out how to hibernate over winter, and
can’t catch fish in their mouths. They
are pack animals and don’t do well with being by themselves. I would give them attributes of strength,
speed, and dependability, but not creativity.
But what do I know about American Indian lore?
Our family history includes some American Indian in our
blood, but for the most part I’ve always regarded myself as Caucasian. My sister, however, clings to the 1/8th
Indian part of us that may or may not be true family genetics. The family records are unclear and not
researched, but whenever the subject of my great-grandmother on my mother’s
father side came up, my maternal grandmother would get very angry and tell
everyone it was none of their business.
So, there’s something there, but not a whole lot. It also doesn’t help my sister’s cause in
that I’m about as white as you can get without actually being an Albino with
light green eyes and blond hair, although it is a darker blond and laced with
gray now. But, my sister and my mother are/were
dark complected with dark hair and brownish-hazel eyes. They could pass for Native American mixed
with Norwegian, which, I guess we are. My
father was Norwegian but always said he had Native American in him. I’m not sure and his family records are also
not researched either. I however, have
no resemblance to an Indian whatsoever, and my sister knows this, but chooses
to ignore that little fact.
But, that doesn’t stop her from believing in the possibility
that she is connected to something that really isn’t there. Which brought me to the thought of how people
in general seem to cling to something that they aren’t. Whether it is Native American heritage or
super-hero status, there are people who are just never happy with whom they
are. Of course it is fun to imagine
yourself saving the world, or being something special with a special purpose,
or somehow being one in billions that stands out from the rest. It’s the premise of so many movies and tv
shows that it is cliché on many levels.
But, that doesn’t stop the formula from pouring forth. And people believing in it. And some believing so much they have identity
issues and entitlement issues.
Not everyone loses touch with the real world. And by real world I mean the daily, boring,
grind of working to support yourself and family, dealing with the problems both
mundane and unique, and generally existing until you don’t. Which is a depressing thought, but ultimately
aren’t we all just marking time? Hopefully
in a way that will be agreeable to you when you look back on your life and
ponder. And maybe that’s why folks want
to be special or live a life that is extraordinary. But why is a life, normally led, seen as not
good enough at the end of the line? By
“normally led” I mean the usual: school,
job, marriage, house, kids, pets, vacations, grandkids, retirement, and
hopefully some type of dignified end. Or
some variation of this track. When all
is said and done, how many of us truly look back on our lives and say, “I wish
I would have been a ___________________”.
It seems to me that no matter what you do in your life, and unless you
choose to make some horrible choices, your life is probably well-lived with
some regrets but probably more accomplishments and things to be proud of even
if you haven’t saved the world. Or
subjected yourself to dangers and death, or lived as a minority ethnicity that
is full of stereotypes seen as a noble people wandering around living off the
Earth.
A coworker I’m not that fond of once told me that I’m very
cynical. I prefer to say I’m a realist
with a healthy attitude of skepticism.
And while I have a share of my life in fun and fantasy (science fiction,
Gen Con, conventions, reading, etc) I always know I have to come back to my
reality in the heritage that I have no choice in. And while that is the roulette that is
genetics, I understand that to try and make myself something I am not is simply
an illusion that will leave me resentful, depressed, and wishing my life away
instead of accepting what can not be changed and being happy with what I am. I am not a woodland Indian princess. I am not Wonder Woman. I am not James Kirk. I am not many things. But I am me, and there is no one else like me
out there. Shouldn’t that be
extraordinary enough?
