Many years ago my husband gave me a Native American name, “Nose too much”. I suppose it is because I have a big nose, but it of course was touching on a meaning more verbose. My brain is large, I know too much. I know more than I can express, I know more than is good for me. Is this true? Was this true? I know that community college was very difficult for me because I could not think at that restricted level. I know I moved into the arts after high school because it seemed to be the venue where the most brain expansion could happen. Expansion in the sense of gut flora, spirit, dreaming, developing emotionally, psychologically, and socially. I know that even though I wished to excel, this society could not hold me. I know that I found a companion, a fellow companion of similar intelligence to travel, journey in this life with, and that he then gave me this name. It is still a mystery, it is still working its magic. Perhaps it means that I know too much in that my areas of growth and learning center around being humble, about being gentle, soft and “fitting in” for lack of a better term. I do not mean to gloat, “Nose too much” is something I am still seeking to understand and grow into. Funny, it may have been meant to be a joke, but I think it is very profound, This is my husband, Steve, for you.

In 2016 I was challenged with a relapse with my schizoaffective disorder. I left my job and fell from reality as my brain and heart exploded viscerally once again. Time slowed, dreams swirled, and nightmares ensued. It was spring, and I could see many thousands of years of peoples, native peoples buried on my land. Birds were flying high above and spreading messages across the continent. I was calling to the goats, the birds, and the spirits with my clay whistle that lived around my neck. I was journeying and in a way, opening a door, a passage to healing. An ancient Native American Spirit loaned me his name, “Broken Skull”. In years past I was very tortured. I painted and struggled with psychosis and erratic moods often. There were times when the build up inside my body was so intense, and I could not purge this through my compulsive painting. In the attempt to release the tears, I would pound my head against the wall of my small, plaster walled, two bedroom house. Recently, psychosomatically, I began to heal these old wounds. I would be able to feel the place on my head, my skull, that I used to smash against the wall. I would turn my head slightly to the left before impact, I can remember by reenacting the movement. My delicate forehead had definitely been impacted for lack of a better word. It would ache, feel sore as it healed from this trauma. Who knows the damage I did to my head, my brain. It was the lizard inside of me, the tortured and fearful young child that was trapped in a world so horrific, attempting to “wake up” or fix my brain. 

“Broken Skull” was my second Native American name given to my by a spirit warrior, whose name truly was Broken Skull in ancient years past. He was a hero of his people, a wise true fighter, a warrior in the means that are forgotten to the native people that live strong and true in the world of spirits.

Recently, I came across a feather from a Flicker bird in the path that I walk through the woods every morning. The feather spoke to me and I placed it in my dream catcher that hangs in my window, blessing me with little rainbows all over my house when the sun shines in the window on peaceful Lopez afternoons and evenings. An aspect of the universe that has always spoken so deeply to me is the moon. The moon holds a consciousness of this planet so epic, and has seen so many dreams, bird calls, authentic stories and tears of millennium of creatures here on this planet. Touched by this Flicker feather, I felt it was time to grow into yet another name that is still new to this day. I wish to embody the softness of this planet, of nature, of myself. The healing light is within and I only wish it to grow and overtake me. I give myself the name of “Moon Flicker”. Let this magic usurp, heal, and cover me. The companionship of the moon speaks to me deep. I am never alone for I have her flicker on most nights, visible or not, guiding my dreams, my hopes, and my vision.