Saturday, September 30, 2017

ZAKU

ZAKU: in the language IKU (Arhuaca) means mother, woman, responsible for transmitting wisdom from generation to generation in the native peoples.

Zaku: en lengua IKU (Arhuaca) significa madre, mujer, responsable de transmitir la sabiduria de generación en generación en los pueblos originarios.

ZAKU
 Seed of life is you, indigenous woman who ignites the fire of memory Mother who sows collective consciousness A native woman, a weaver of thought and a wise word. Mother earth, mother water, mother people. You feed the spirit of men. Female spiral language, from the beginning and without end. You work because harmony is born, to reap a universe in order an umbilical cord that survives with the great placenta, our sacred house the mother earth. Indigenous woman, mother, grandmother, sister. You are a lagoon, you are a plant that nourishes the life, that suckles this human world, this territory of you aboriginal woman, Original woman, cane that sustains the world making peace, weaving art of Wisdom and knowledge of the living cultures. DU NI ZAKU

Thank you woman spinner for creating with your voice ways cultures of life. It is recognized in you woman sower, transmitting the teachings of Good Living and Living Well, not forgetting the birth of the origin, the footsteps of the ancients, the language that we continue talking day and night, like the stove that does not go out and with its smoke travels through the memory of the corn peoples. We are all children of the universal mother, as well as children of the woman who takes care of her bare feet, which carries a son, a basket, a pack of hopes in each necklace. Without soil there is no food, without water there is no life, without sun there is no planet, no woman, the seed does not germinate, it is not learned, the spirit is not educated. We are the inheritance that the indigenous woman left us and recreates us as the water we drink and the foods that give us and guide us the existence. A woman with long hair, listening to you is feeling the conch that sounds and leaves fertile echoes of the origin, that song of the land that unites us to return, to the voice of the silence of a pregnancy, to the first words spoken as a child, "Mom, I am sleepy."

You shut my crying, you feed my huellas. Indigenous mother, who cooks tradition and distributes it to your children. You are a great maloka who keeps thought, history. You are the mother of us all. A cosmogonic woman, you are TIME, moon that illuminates man's steps and cycles, causing the eyes to look beyond. Sacred woman, you are rain of knowledge, food of the spirit, with your hands healthy of the earth, cures to the man. You are the dance of life, the ritual of balance, the millenary garden that feeds the five senses and the heart of human beings. NIWIKAGUMU NIWI GUZANA NI. ZAKU NI WI GUZANA NI. I love our mother earth. I love mother people. "du ni “. 
-Kasokaku Busintana Mestre Izquierdo de pueblo Iku, Sierra Nevada de Santa Maria

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ZAKU
 Semilla de vida eres tú, mujer indígena que prendes el fogón de la memoria ancestral. Madre que siembra conciencia colectiva mujer nativa, tejedora de pensamiento y palabra sabia. Madre tierra, madre agua, madre gente. Tú alimentas el espíritu de los hombres. Mujer de lenguaje en espiral, desde el principio y sin final. Trabajas porque nazca armonía, por cosechar un universo en orden, un cordón umbilical que pervive con la gran placenta, nuestra casa sagrada la madre tierra Mujer indígena, mamá, abuela, hermana. Eres laguna, eres planta que nutre la vida, que amamanta. este mundo humano, este territorio de partos tuyos mujer aborigen, Mujer originaria, bastón que sostiene el mundo haciendo paz, tejiendo arte de Sabiduría y conocimientos de las culturas vivas. DU NI ZAKU

Gracias mujer hilandera por crear con tu voz caminos cultivos de vida. Se reconoce en ti mujer sembradora, trasmitir las enseñanzas del Buen Vivir y el Vivir Bien, sin olvidar el parto del origen, los pasos de antiguos, la lengua que seguimos hablando día y noche, como el fogón que no se apaga y con su humo viaja por la memoria de los pueblos del maíz. Todos somos hijos de la madre universal, como también hijos de la mujer que cuida sus pies descalzos que en cada collar lleva un hijo, un canasto, una mochila de esperanzas. Sin tierra no hay comida, sin agua no hay vida, sin sol no hay planeta, sin mujer, la semilla no germina, no se aprende, no se educa el espíritu. Somos la herencia que la mujer indígena nos dejó y nos recrea como el agua que bebemos y los alimentos que nos dan y nos guían la existencia. Mujer de cabello largo, el escucharte es sentir la caracola que suena y deja ecos fecundos del origen, aquel canto de la tierra que nos une al retorno, a la voz del silencio de un embarazo, a las primeras palabras que se pronuncian cuando niño, "Mamá, teta, tengo sueño".

Tu callas mi llanto, alimentas mis huellas. Madre indígena, que cocinas la tradición y la repartes a tus hijos. Eres una gran maloka que guarda el pensamiento, la historia. Eres la madre de todos nosotros. Mujer cosmogónica, eres TIMA, luna que alumbra los pasos y ciclos del hombre, haciendo que los ojos miren más allá. Mujer sagrada, eres lluvia de saberes, alimento del espíritu, con tus manos sanas la tierra, curas al hombre. Eres la danza de la vida, el ritual del equilibrio, la huerta milenaria que alimenta los cinco sentidos y el corazón de los seres humanos. NIWIKAGUMU NIWI GUZANA NI. ZAKU NI WI GUZANA NI. Amo nuestra madre tierra. Amo la madre gente. "du ni''. 
-Kasokaku Busintana Mestre Izquierdo de pueblo Iku, Sierra Nevada de Santa Maria

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Spoken Turning Meditation

A collaborative performance and meditation brought a tranquil and inspiring space for the transition to 2017. Sound vibrations by Gbeda Sundries and the energies of my photographic series Spoken saturated us at CAMBIAart gallery on Saturday evening. It was a beautiful group of people who came out and participated, it was an honor to share the space, images, dance and sound with everyone.














Photography by Javier Garcia

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Spoken opening statements

“After hearing my footsteps, walking in to where the path is no longer visible, I exhale.  I begin to sense the trees dancing in the rustle of the leaves, the silhouettes of glowing light and the darkness breathing.  The trees begin calling me, in different ways and in manners that bypass my logical brain.  Welcomed to come and visit with them, I bring my large format camera.  I contort optics and make long exposure, allowing for more to imprint than what the eye could see…possibly our intimate encounter, possibly what was spoken.

“When we refer to spirits we usually are referring to those who have come before us, and occasionally those who will be birthed by us, but generally we speak of entities with the assumed shared human experience.  The forest world has been densely growing and cycling for longer than we have been walking this earth.  These spirits, these ancient beings, have wisdoms and perspectives rooted from the time of the core of the earth.  And they see through me, they see through us.

"To walk alone into the forest is the first step to being able to hear the speaking.  It is not immediate, but per individual.  The next step is to hear your presence in the forest, the breaking of sticks beneath your feet.  Then you hear and feel your breath in this airspace, that it is different than that outside of the woods.  It will be silent at first, still, while you acclimate.  And then as your mind is relaxed, your face will relax deeply and, as if your eyes open wider, you will see how very much alive the beings that surround you are.



SPOKEN is a body of portraits; recordings of wisdom shared.


On display at CAMIBAart, Austin, TX until January 7th.  Closing will be 1-4 January 7th.

Video by Justin Humphrey

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Our Waters, our bodies, our Mother

Good Morning!

This intention of focusing on the Sacred Water and making this exploration publicly visible brings many things to the foreground. I am searching to represent the templates of spaces that are living in harmonious relationship with our Mother Earth and the Bodies of Water that flow in and outside of her. I am honoring the intimate prayers of communities and individuals to open more hearts and give more access to our internal waters while profoundly connecting with all waters. I am also giving voice to the many peoples who are fighting to protect our waters in a time where social media is the space that truly represents the people while, unfortunately, the mainstream is being censored.

I was able to spend some time connecting in the Yaqui pueblos in Sonora, Mexico. Here is a video of interviews I made with a couple of the women surrounding the waters and sustainable living.

This is not a unique story of sadness for the people and for the waters. These stories are all over the world. On the Standing Rock reservation in North Dakota a call has been made for international community support to fight against tunnels for oil being run under the waters. It is an embarrassment how the US government is handling this. But it has also been a great demonstration of people coming together from all nations to speak up for Sacred Waters!  Yesterday we sang, we prayed, we united.

Many Blessings,
Tahila

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Damian Marley- mainstream ancestral connect

The media outlets have so much power and sometimes it so right on. This video!!!!






Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Tiny House Building through a Texas Winter of RAIN pt 1

Rain and more Rain in Austin these weeks giving me time to write about our Tiny House building these past months.

In leu of floor plans, John and I's first steps were to build a teeny Tiny house made of cardboard. Our first construction had little movable parts including a tiny Tahila with her arms outstretched.

I made lists of what I wanted, felt were my "need to have's", in my space. Windows prominently fill the wall space. I like to sit on the floor so floor space for seating is important and space for stretching, turning and dancing. We decided the wall could fold down for a work table or as needed. That meant space for movement :)







Out on the farm the ducks all came around to watch us as the sun came up and the day began.















We strive to keep wood from going to the dump and the following days were spent taking apart pallets (labeled HT, meaning not chemically treated).

And removed many many many nails
Baby Chicks were born and I went to sleep and woke listening to them peep peeping.



The oak pile grew and grew from the older pallets and the planing began. Our days of sunshine ended a day into this process and then the remaining time we spent in sleet. Texas weather has been abnormal this year and unpredictable.
                             
John
Rodney

Me







It was all worth it for the beauty we found as the layers pealed away.


These will be placed carefully on the Trailer bed to become my floor!

Friday, February 6, 2015

House cleaning of the mind in Gratitude

“And then a man came forth and said, Speak to us of Houses
… But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed. 
Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast. 
It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye. 

You shall not fold you wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down. 

You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living. 

And though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing. 
For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.”

- Kahlil Gibran, from 'The Prophet'


Without much amazement this morning, I see clearly that a "flushing out" is needed. An internal purging and balancing must take place, as I work through a similar filtering system of my external life and possessions in preparation to move in my Tiny House.

As asked on a tiny house blog for house prep....or in zen texts:

What is essential to me?
What do I no longer need to hold on to?
What is the too much?