iPod and the iPhone touch both have a language learning app which supports 40 different languages including French, German, Japanese and Russian. It is surprisingly not very expensive according to the Apple App store and it is extremely useful for on-the-go travelers, business representatives, abroad students and tourists alike. Just about anyone with this device can learn basic words, phrases and names of attractions. And now, the first native language is live and available for all users.

The following information & quote was obtained from Adam Rosen of the cultofmac.com

The Cherokee Nation has been working with the software developers at Apple, Inc. for several years to incorporate the tribe’s unique written language, called the Cherokee syllabary, into new technology offered by the software giant. Cherokee is the first Native language to be featured on Apple, Inc. devices, and one of about only 40 languages overall.

“People communicate differently today,” said Cherokee Nation Principal Chief Chad Smith. “Including our language on the iPhone and iPod makes it accessible to more people, especially our youth. This is critical to the survival and growth of our language.”

Of course, this is old news as it was published back in October 2010. However, it is pretty new to me!

I was pleasantly surprised to learn about this seemingly insignificant addition to the iPhone this late in the year. I own a crummy Samsung Intensity and don’t care to upgrade my already annoying mobile life, but it is exciting to read this kind of technological impact among the native community. To have a struggling language now available in multimedia services is like discovering Atlantis; the past remains strong and influential in the present, especially for youngsters.

Native language gone digital. Who’da thunk!

Also, I am exceedingly happy to know that Apple devoted so much time to communicate with the Cherokee Nation in order to develop this intricate and readily available technology to support a native language, although I can imagine it must have been a costly negotiation in regards to finances. However, this remains an incredible advancement and I do hope the idea will spread to other nations to uphold our grand history.

Maybe Cree, Iroquois and Ojibway are next on Apple’s list!? We’ll see.

- J.

The word use in this case is meant to illustrate a scenario when someone of native ancestry (whatever the percentage) purposely mentions or exploits his/her heritage in an aggressive manner so they can be allowed to have something or participate in an event they believe is made exclusive to native people.

Now why is this such a big deal? Well, for a number of reasons. For one thing, it makes that person appear more as a vain poser than an actual native descendant — even if they are telling the truth or have honest intentions. For another, it is insulting to the rest of us. But overall, it is a shameful act of dishonoring a very rich, delicate bloodline of invaluable teachings.

I do not mean to offend anyone – especially not those who have aboriginal ancestry, although this rant is directed at those few individuals who carelessly abuse their “rights” in hopes of reaping the benefits and take offense if/when they do not receive what they expect. I say abuse because while it is true that most (not all) natives across Canada and the United States have certain incontrovertible legal rights, there is still quite a difference between being proud of your bloodline and actually being connected to it and by that I refer to putting actual effort into knowing more about oneself and origins.

The second thing these individuals must understand is that we, as a people, do not discriminate or wrongly dismiss anyone in spite or for personal bias — at least, not on a professional level. It is not the native way. Our culture is very open and diverse from communications to tangible resources, which is why you might see many non-native children in native day-cares. Pow-wows welcome all, most sweat lodge ceremonies do too, and even hospitality services such as independent restaurants or gift shops.

But the reality is: sometimes an event or application just doesn’t apply to you — like many other things in life!

For example, say a local native non-profit organization was hosting a business banquet that celebrated the success of a computer camp for youth. The supervisor(s) or the on-site manager attends along with chaperons, perhaps the E.D and all the participants and their families are invited. A list is most likely kept to keep track of how many guests are attending that need food, entertainment, etc. Now, if someone outside of this event decides to join-in for the food or to simply observe and all without permission, they will most likely be questioned at the door or someone will point them out.

“Hey, aren’t I allowed to be here?”
“I’m sorry, but you’re not on the list– unless you have family here or have participated on this project–”
“Well why not? I’m native, too! I have every right!”

… Can you feel how painful it is just to read that kind of protest? I do, too. In fact, I have witnessed a similar instance and the result ended up with the E.D who calmly explained to the instigator that he was in the wrong. In a hypothetical sense, this fiasco could easily be turned around; the event could have been non-native orientated and suddenly a random person showed up expecting to be served simply because he looked like everyone else.

Of course, there are many more complicated occurrences in which someone will take advantage of a situation when exposing their identities. Personally, only in certain circumstances such as crossing the border (status cards in Canada are recognized as passports) or proving identity for tuition payment, a bursary, government papers, etc. is flashing the status card or birth certificate appropriate and acceptable for bragging rights.

The bottom line is: no one should ever, ever use or abuse their native heritage for personal gain, especially not popularity. It makes them look bad, it makes us feel bad, and overall it is just disgraceful. Before blindly walking into these sticky situations it is best to properly educate oneself of what certain rights one is endowed with from birth — this goes for any person from any culture — and it is imperative to understand that being native is not about gaining leeway in life or getting anything for free. Like everyone else, we must earn it.

And, perhaps the most important thing I have to say on this matter is this: be proud of who you are, not vain. Do your research, connect with your tribe or family members and learn all there is to know about your roots, and if you ever feel the need to use your identity, please, use it wisely. Respect and integrity are just some of an honest life’s greatest rewards.

Miigwetch,

- J.

Most people I work alongside in labs are fun, easy to get along with and very helpful as teammates. However, some of them don’t feel the same way about me. Even more shockingly, I recently found out that quite a few of them don’t even like me!

Honestly I don’t mean to gloat, but I think of myself as an approachable, friendly person. I often find ways to say something nice about someone even if I don’t know them that well and I am elated to find out if anyone has said the same for me. In Journalism last year I had many friends. There was almost no one I didn’t get along with.

CUE REALITY

Now that I’m in the Culinary world, I’m realizing that no matter how charming or genuine a kind human being is, not everyone will necessarily like them – let alone be delighted to share their workspace. Not all differences can be put aside. But you know what? That’s perfectly OK!

In fact, it may actually be healthy. I, too, have begun to dispel myself of social gravity lately. Now I have very few friends and most others remain my humble acquaintances. ‘How did this happen?’ I asked myself, slightly worried I would gradually retreat into holes with other lowly hermits as I compulsively spoke out at-random just so I would appear sociably content. Well, sometime ago in class I overheard several hulaaaaaarrious stories exchanged between fellow classmates (unintentionally, of course) that involved embarrassing episodes of inebriation… and a few explicit scenarios I’d rather not share over the web. After an hour of utter brain torture I thought, maybe it’s good I don’t know all these crazy people.

Of course, I may be just too boring to understand their definition of “fun”, but this occurrence slowly made me appreciate the mental benefits of having a small circle of buds. It also helped me understand the diversities in our kitchen.

Last week in lab me and four others were steadily catching up on a complex dish that had three different procedures while the rest were finishing up. It’s true; some are faster than others, and although progression is our main focus, I am one of the slowest. What I lack in speed, however, I make up for in quality. Anyway, during the hustle a buddy of mine pulled me aside and told me that she overheard three of the top students in our group talk about us.

“He said, ‘man, no wonder we’re always f***ing late! Those idiots over there keep dragging our groove down’!” I think she was slightly taken aback after I told her, “Well, that’s alright. They can think what they want to. No one said they had to like us.”

I may have said it to shield myself from these almost back-stabbing remarks, but it is true nonetheless. If you are in a working environment that requires massive attention to detail, team effort and utilizing different means of work while you’re all under pressure from the preceding deadlines, it is almost inevitable for personalities to clash.

That does NOT mean you are a bad person

“Not like me? Pfft. After 25 years in this industry I can tell you: no one has to like me for me to do a good job. I don’t rely on others’ opinions to tell me I’m a good or bad cook … and you know, I’m fine with that if someone doesn’t think I’m the most ‘awesome person ev-aaar’. Odds are, I don’t like them either. But I may admire their work.” ~ Chef.

While I love liking people I work with and developing friendships, I understand now that it is futile to pursue a fantasized workplace where that applies to every individual.

In the event someone makes a nasty remark, it is best to take it in stride and carry on with your duties than to sneer or spite. No one should force themselves to be friends with such people either, but sticky situations where you’re all stuck together call for professional (& mutual) interaction by staying positive and actively contributing to the atmosphere.

What people think should not affect the work you do nor the goals you are trying to succeed. Of course, it may be a simple misunderstanding – one that can hopefully be resolved with pleasant conversation or kind gestures. However, sometimes a mind or opinion cannot be changed. When that happens, we just have to accept it. Obviously there are issues that cannot be assuaged in that person’s head. The last and final step is to simply let it go. Continue to think and speak nice things about certain people and maybe give them a compliment, but never push it.

It’s not a bad thing for someone to dislike you. If anything, you have your own hate list or two filled with names and faces you have disgraced from existence – or, at least you are aware of your social limits. It is perfectly healthy to set standards for what you can tolerate, what you don’t and what you will allow to become personal like a friendship or intimate relationship.

And it is perfectly OK not to be everybody’s friend. For one thing, it’s never good to pressure yourself and there are many people who just don’t mix well together. If we were all meant to like each other—well, I can’t even say. We’re only human! But we will always be ourselves.

- J.

A quick glance at the title offers you a vivid, cliched scenario between two middle-aged love-lorn loons: a conspiracy theorist obsessed with his wife’s elusive manner and an artist suspecting her husband’s faith to their marriage. In other words, I judged this book by its cover, and before reading it already became a turn-off. A grave mistake indeed on my part.

We So Seldom Look on Love is a short story about a necrophiliac. Bonus: it’s a young woman. Right? I didn’t expect that either.

I should make it clear right now that this is not a book review and I don’t intend to reveal any plot points or spoilers, so for all you book fanatics, you may relax.

So why did I bring it up? Well… like Sky Burial, I have savored a very special line:

“But something drove me to go through with these compunctions. It was as if I were acting solely on instinct and curiosity, and anything I did was all right, provided it didn’t kill me.”

And how strange it was to let those few words seep into the deepest depths of my mind. They’ve stayed with me every day since they found me. What they said to me was, you were just born this way.

I liked that. Loved it, in fact; the idea of living by instinct. That provoked for me a series of thoughts, analysis and a continuing process of studying human conditioning vs inheritance.

There are things we are taught, lessons we learn and by-laws we hear and speak. We ingest these sets of given beliefs day by day and we can all attest to the notion that we operate on rules which further establish our values. But while most people live among given guidelines from society, there are many others who work against them. The alarming difference: they don’t believe they are doing anything wrong; a feeling the narrator of the story fearlessly demonstrates through her rituals and love-making with male bodies.

The passage itself infers a sense of natural impulse. It is completely natural for them to feel so compelled by their passion to commit what we have deemed as “immoral”, just as it is natural for you to breathe – what your enemies may condemn as a sin. Just as it feels natural for those who are homosexual, straight, or insane.

I don’t like the idea of genetics playing the main role in our behaviour or personality – although science is tough to argue. Here’s my opinion: when it is mentioned that genes or blood-cells are the reciprocal of brain development, it almost purposely excludes certain individuals and forces them to bear names or labels. Hence the common teen-hate of ‘categories’. However, I suppose if this weren’t so, I would not be writing about it now.

I like to feel that I live not because I was told how to, but because I already know how. For me.

Flip, flip, flip, thunk.
Flip, flip, flip.

That’s how fast I have ripped through this story. I’ve read it six times already. A definite recommendation for anyone who appreciates the odd, unorthodox and the new!

- J.

“It’s ALL society’s fault”
Or is it?

Far too frequently have I heard such wild outbursts from teenagers and angry adults alike. It’s not unusual to blame one’s surroundings for a personal problem and I partially agree with that statement, but partial agreement for me on this subject is tolerance at its lowest.

It is true; our world is plagued with a multitude of questionable influences such as TV, the media, peers, families/home life, substance abuse/addictions— we’ve heard it all, and most of us have witnessed first-hand the powerful impact they can have upon youth and especially young women. However, while individual choice is arguably conditioned by one’s environment, reading intake, peers and home life, we still make decisions to be a certain way just as we choose to ignore the way we are.

Many people believe that society, their parents or circumstance — something out of their control — are what molds them into “victims”, as if they had just survived a massacre and expect total, reliable and frequently available consultation which is usually spawned from self-loathing or an overdose of pity. Then there’s the classic “society has turned its back on me” mentality. Both behaviors can be easily exhibited through one  universal gesture: pointing the finger. A cop-out of responsibility.

How infuriating. It’s like the very word ‘society‘  is used nowadays to describe some oppressive abstract entity that miraculously shifts every aspect of life itself without prior consent of the person who is merely experiencing bad luck or consequence. And frankly, it’s just a naive way of thinking. I realize I’m coming off as judgmental and even hypocritical (ALL teenagers/adults have been in this position — yes you have, don’t lie), but let me tell you – it just isn’t true.

Yes, I agree, the world sucks. It sucks that we have to deal with it like a chore, too (DEAL WITH IT). But it’s not just society — a term far too liberal in casual conversation — that is to blame for encouraging or discouraging what we do and being who we are.

It’s us. WE bear the majority of fault.

“How did this happen? Who’s to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others and they will be held accountable… but again truth be told, if you’re looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.” V, V for Vendetta.

It obviously doesn’t take a dark anti-hero to figure out what has been done, nor what really needs to be done to resolve inner-conflict. But clearly, for whatever reason or excuse, we are becoming increasingly afraid to deal with a very simple sad fact of life: we do it to ourselves.

Even me! Here I am occasionally thinking about how detached I am from my roots. But I don’t blame “the white man” and I don’t whine in excess about the problem. I do what I can to resolve it. And that is what more individuals and groups need to do. SOMETHING. I can’t say what; I don’t know you.

But I didn’t write today just to point out how annoying or useless it is to impose blame on external factors. I also want to help. Little does the average person know, it is actually unhealthy in regards to eating habits, sleep patterns, social life and work environments. Even besides, it sucks. How do you expect anything to change if it’s “society’s doing”?
____________________________________________________________________________________

Figure out the REAL problem

For people who whine about “the system” – VOTE. I wholeheartedly believe that no one has the right to complain if they are legally capable of contributing to change and refuse to do so or they ‘inadvertently’ forget about election dates when really they were just too damn lazy to be committed. For youth with a similar problem, I suggest you do the same and contribute by thoroughly educating yourselves or having a talk with your parents and local city council about issues you feel strongly about. NOTHING got done in this country by sitting on the sidelines murmuring and twirling thumbs.

For college students who feel the awesome pressure of “society” and its expectations – I have felt your pain. Believe me, I know what it is like in the first couple years to think everyone is watching you and no one will rely on your confidence if you fail your major or people will begin to judge you if you switch between career paths. OR you succeed and suddenly everyone around you will expect you to further succeed. And this can get a little tricky because if you come from a high-class family or if you possess an A-type personality, it may very well be so.

But here’s the surprise: most of it is all in your head. I can’t dictate this statement as fact for all of you nor can I convince you to believe it, but look at yourself and ask yourself: “What do I want?” It’s YOUR education.

Parents: “It’s our money!”
Me: It’s my life. I know it’s selfish, but if I’m going to live just once in this world, I’d rather live spontaneous and happy than repressed and surviving. (And I will gladly contribute to pay for my tuition)

For those with low self-esteems, identify the trigger of your apparent unhappiness: What causes you to think you are too fat, too skinny, or not beautiful? Secondly, why would you think that? Why would you think you are a waste of space, are not good enough or feel like you just can’t hack it? And lastly, what can you do to remedy this negativity? Keep track of these feelings and DON’T give up looking for an answer.

Personally, unless your health is at risk or you really are in need of professional nutrition/lifestyle counseling, SCREW opinion and flashy magazines.

“It only matters what people think if you want it to matter at all.” ~ Mom

Because ultimately, it all falls on you. Just deal with the fact now that people will be people; they will always look, gawk and talk. But it is your choice to listen and give-in to lower standards. Taking responsibility for yourself, teaching yourself, treating yourself and loving yourself is all part of the first step in having confidence, not giving a crap what people think and accepting the fact that YOU are in charge and you DO have a choice — always.

You can’t change what you call society, but you CAN change your attitude. Do you necessarily want to? No, but it beats crying about it. This change does not alter the quantity of what is in your life, but enhances the quality of how you live. And that, my friends, is self-respect.

It is hard. But if it were easy, living really wouldn’t have any meaning. So make it mean everything.

- J.

Speaking of school, there is a subject of material I wanted to bring up on this fine, Autumn evening. “What material might that be?” they ask.

It is called, “Sky Burial” by Richard Van Camp.

Now before I go into the details, I feel I must mention the place of stories: my literature class.

Admittedly I wanted Human Sexuality or Drugs & Society as an elective, but it seems I was the little turtle amongst serpents during the crammed application process and so I was forced to pick something else at the last minute. Perhaps it was meant to be.

To say the least, Literature & Short Fiction is fun. That is, when I’m not in the actual classroom. The stories are wonderful; filled with grotesque, Gothic folklore, heroes, mistaken villains and provocative emotion. There is also an appreciable dose of situational irony. But the people I sit next to every Thursday afternoon are, in friendlier terms, strange. Most are alright. Some of them are assholes. Buuuut it’s just people! And I assume we all realize this sad fact since we spend most of our three hours agreeing to disagree. However, every once in a while in class when a discussion is in session, we can sometimes manage to forget personal affliction and actually have thought-provoking conversations. This week I have learned that it isn’t the stories themselves, but the personality behind certain speakers that beget new perspectives. And this week, I have had the pleasure of being one of them.

Sky Burial tells the story of an elder who has a heart attack in a mall and he reflects upon his life, his son’s suicide, his daughter’s transformation and how his culture has been  inexplicably ‘changed’ over the last century. He meets a little girl who is half Cree, shortly before he ascends into the afterlife in the form of an owl.

There is one line from the story that has stuck with me ever since my eyes fell upon it. It said,

“They ruined Indians.”

I didn’t expect to feel so empathetic. I understood. “They” (in my opinion) refers to White society, or, arguably, the Indian culture itself. Since the dramatic influences of Christianity, boarding schools and the loss of language, the “old Indians” he mentions have changed. They were forced to adapt to this new world. And I say I understand not because of what he meant, but what he felt. Coming from a young girl who knows what it feels like; attempting to bridge the gap between the modern day and old tradition.

I told this to all of them. I nearly cried, much to my embarassment, haha… but when I was finished talking, some of them looked at me and smiled. I was happy they took my words into thought.

There is a boy in our class and he also spoke. He claimed that it was irrational of “us” to assume that Indians are still marginalized and have no reliable resources when we live in today’s society. He also said that we should not look at the culture as a peaceful race, as “they were NOT peaceful with each other, even before the Europeans came!” And while it is true that many tribes/nations could not negotiate an alliance against the colonists, it was a little silly of him to think that poverty does not exist in the present. But, I said nothing. His words took a bit of a jab but I let it go. I didn’t see any real reason to argue. I let Barbara, our Literature prof., take that role and she educated him on the subject quite heatedly. Afterwards, he fell silent. I just smiled. It wasn’t to insult him; part of me actually felt happy for him. He may have learned a few things that day!

There was also a girl who flew up her hand and she rambled on and on about how some people have died participating in sweat lodge ceremonies. Her theory, as she said, was that Indians would die because “they were high”. I had to laugh. She also complained that she didn’t understand why “they” insisted upon going to see a Medicine Man rather than a doctor since a medicine man cannot cure cancer or replace a lost limb. I wasn’t aware doctors could do that!

But I understand that they both meant well as students and just wanted to understand, as do I. I am thankful we were introduced to Sky Burial and I am happy to know that our teacher welcomes native literature for this generation. When a story evokes strong, riveting emotions from its readers it must be a damn good one. I know I won’t forget it any time soon and I look forward to listening to everyone in the class now. And while the narrator was seemingly cynical and sad, there was still hope. Hope in finding one’s self through living and learning from mistakes and picking back up the pieces through the years.

Miigwetch, Van Camp.

- J.

You can relax. I realize I haven’t written ANYthing since August, but due to shifts in circumstances of living, school and then recklessly throwing a part-time job into the mix, I have found it nearly impossible to even think about my blog! But while my absence irritates me and lack of new feed is well deserving of an apology, I don’t think I will make one. When life happens you should not have to apologize. Of course, that was the best excuse I could come up with tonight. I do hope you all understand Miigwetch.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that, in more ways than one, we are all second-handers. What this means is we take ideas, thoughts, opinions or interests from someone else either verbally or in practice.

One example in which you might see this happen is during a political argument where I often take notice of the occasional quote by Mark Twain such as: “Patriotism is usually the refuge of the scoundrel. He is the man who talks the loudest.” And while the message is definitely appropriate for some reinforced vigor on the opposition’s part, I can’t help but see that ugly “borrower” cloud hovering above the head that so vehemently screamed it out. I’m not against resource per say when it’s utilized for an essay or speech, but I think quoting a genius should be a last resort if you ever want to be taken seriously in the foreground.

Then again, that seems to be the trigger for it, doesn’t it?
To me, potentially borrowing or even stealing ideas is an erratic human behavior or an involuntary compulsive reaction induced by critical or fleeting challenges in our daily lives. I don’t think most of us do it because we want to be credited for a bit of glory, but more so a method of self-defense.

Not that I mean to suggest or even admit that there are many of us who have no thoughts of our own nor creative originality, but perhaps in those times when we feel pressured by a friend or foe in a discussion or even in something less serious like a forum argument, our instincts and memory work together to protect our dignity. Even if it means taking it from someone else.

Am I against using another’s words to express my own feelings? Yes. Do I expect others to feel the same? No. I can’t have high standards when it comes to our nature.

Good thing plagiarism is a crime these days. But, you can’t censor free will can you?

I’ll go now and write down my own thoughts ^.^
…. Adding onto that (and I’m actually stealing THIS bit from George Carlin), you ever feel the urge to blab in gibberish when people say, “Explain in your own words”? After all, every word you see on this screen was learned from someone else.

Put that in your jar of food for thought.

- J.

I experienced my first panic attack three months ago during all the stresses of school, financial chaos and that weepy “career decision making” phase. I broke down in the mall clinging to my boyfriend. Since that night, I haven’t believed living peacefully is something that comes naturally for someone like me. I’m just too damn impatient! So that was when I decided to look for some deeper meaning in keeping-it-together.

Our balance has four corners: the red, yellow, black and white. They are also the colours of the medicine wheel. But that isn’t all the four corners represents. Not long ago I took hold of a basket in my mother’s office. The oval compartment in the center had an abalone shell and a hawk feather. In the other compartments were, as my mother called them, “our sacred medicines”.

To the right: cedar
To the Left: tobacco
At the top: sweet grass
In the bottom: white sage

- The cedar is used to bring happiness, luck and goodness to your life. Some call it a woman’s medicine. She’ll often carry it in a pouch during a pow-wow.
- Tobacco is to give your thanks the Creator. You are taking from the earth and giving it back with your grateful thoughts.
- The sweet grass is for the mind and mouth; to think and to say sweet things.
- And Sage is for purification. In a way, all four are brought together for this purpose, but sage possesses its own power to drive out negative energy or feelings.

There are many occasions in life when we need our own guidance like during a time of stress or loss. These medicines can be used separately, although in ceremonies or prayers before business meetings, a blessing of a house or a family reunion all four are usually used to strengthen the prayer and ourselves. Stranger still, they work. And who can beat the smell of sweet grass?

I would never abuse the ways of our people for personal gain – like if I were actually looking for a concrete answer for some dilemma. I know better than most people that I have to make my own answers.  And we can never depend too much on a substance, whether it’s from the earth or curated in chemicals. I follow the same philosophy about religion. You should never indulge too much on faceless virtues.

Our medicines help. They are not meant to be used to solve problems, but their scents and practice encourage me to deal with them. I think that is why I have decided to pray more to our Creator. It gives me strength knowing I can pull through and that I am not alone because someone, somewhere in everything, is listening

- J.

Animals represent luck or omens of our fortunes, struggles and people who walk beside us. Interpretations of their presence vary like all else between coasts and tribes. For example, I see the snake as a sign of mischief or jealousy. Others may see it as a charm, beauty and courage. But nearly all people recognize one particular creature as an entity of bad luck, trouble and even death: the owl.

According to a few sources, it is said that the owl is a powerful figure of control, force and wisdom, which is why you might see them perched beside a wizard or a witch. If you see one during the day or if it hoots while flying near your home, you are being warned of a future ailment or death. Some say they are messengers of evil.

But I like to believe there are two sides to every story.

Two years ago in late winter, families and friends lost a dear member of the community. His name was Bill. He was a good friend of my mother’s and he and his family used to babysit me when I was very small. He called me “Gilligan”. He was known for always doing what was right for his people. Over the years he developed an internal illness that affected his entire body and one night at the hospital the doctors told him they needed to sever his leg or else it would reach his heart and he would die. We were told that he pleaded with them over and over to find another way so they wouldn’t have to take any part of him, but their response was the same. The operation was scheduled for the next morning.

No one is sure what happened, but sometime during that night, Bill passed away in his sleep. And I was sad. We all were. The loss of him hurt a great deal, but after hearing his story, I have always felt that his passing was an admirable way to go. I think what was going through his mind in his last moments was the fact that he was born a whole man. And he was going to die as a whole man. I think he was ready

A week after we received the devastating news, an unexpected visitor appeared. I was sitting in home-room at school reading Economics when dozens of boisterous groups crowded near the entrance of the building. Curious, I sneaked out of studying and went outside . Students were towering over each other, their eyes focused beneath the crevice of the roof and some were taking pictures but they all kept a safe distance. I looked up… and right there sitting on the bell was a burrowing owl.

He was possibly the cutest bird I have ever seen!
He was so small and silent but he had an ancient aura about him. And while his beauty struck me silent at first, I began to fear him.

There was one feature that quickly turned my insides: his bright, golden eyes. When you walked by he would open them and just stare right through you. When I brought my mother to see him at the end of the day I pointed this out.

“He’s evil,” I told her, cowering away. “No he’s not,” she said, “He’s just a messenger. Look at his eyes more closely; there’s nothing ugly inside of them you need to be afraid of. He just wants to tell you something.”

I did as she said and looked at him more closely. When I did, I suddenly saw a familiar face behind those big, bewildering eyes.

“Oh. Hello, Bill!” I smiled, “What brings you here so far from home?”

The owl held its powerful stare in mine but he wasn’t scary anymore. It almost looked as if he were smiling at me. I talked to him for a little while (because I’m a nut) but all that time he remained very still. Soon before I left, he hooted, then flew away and he never came back. Nothing happened afterward either; there was no other deaths or sickness in my family. The owl may have been lost on his journey or he simply needed a place to rest for the day and had nothing to do with me or my life. Or maybe it was Bill, saying goodbye to Gilligan.

Ever since that day I have reacted differently to many creatures. Not because I may have trumped the superstition by accident or that I believe it was a spirit bidding me farewell. I know now that the owl is merely a messenger and nothing more. He flies through the night and day to bring you beauty and perhaps a word of warning of future obstacles. Don’t wrongly judge our wise friends of the night however, and thank them instead, for they, too, ward off evil and bring happiness to all those lucky enough to see them.

- J.