mental health

The opinion of swans…

You’re just not there yet …

Existence hangs in a constant balance of every cycling cycles—life begets death, death births life…youth begets old age, and old age prepares the way for youth.

As we grow, mature and attempt to make a life for ourselves we’re often faced with underestimation from the generations who’ve preceded us. You know, the age old “you’re too young to understand” or my not-so-favorite favorite “when you get to be our age you’ll understand.”

I love the way they marvel, yet spat—at our inability to conform to a society of old standards, ways and thoughts of living, as if we are not a new generation, birth from the wombs of mothers of what is now the old struggle. Mothers, and fathers who are now accustomed to sporting their years of plumage in a world now teeming with hyperactive ugly ducklings covered in ruffled and half-plucked feathers.

—Biwa & Andestagōnwa ♥

Peace & Love

Bare Naked Bodies

[interior & exterior renovations]

Standing to look at your reflection is hard—but only when your reflection looks nothing like the illusions modern societies insist one’s reflection should mirror. As a result, you cannot stand to look at your reflection; and thus, you could never fathom yourself to be all that you truly are and all of which you have the potential become.

—Biwa & Andestagōnwa ♥

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Long live life

Long

I desire to see many generations rise, and many sunshines come before I go’on over to that great and yonder plain.

Live

I desire to experience the bountiful fruits of my labors and toils before I close my earthly eyes on that last day.

Life

I desire to forge amongst the stars a legacy that the most ancient of celestial bodies would have no choice but to envy.

—Biwa & Andestagōnwa ♥

Peace & Love

Nadira's Locs - Silk and Rawhide

MÉCOU WANDERERS

My natural journey started pretty darn basic on the “why I began my locs” scale. By my third year of college I had snipped, cut, colored and style my hair to the point of no return. I had officially grown tired of relaxing my hair and it being in such an unthriving state. I was done with trying to figure out how I wanted to style and keep my processed hair looking nice between relaxings. Nevertheless, I did not readily choose to go natural after coming to any of these realizations within myself.

No, my natural journey began to take shape around year four and following a paradigm shift in my romantic life and personal perspective.

In the beginning of this process, I had no clue what the outcome of my transition was going to look like simply because I couldn’t foresee what natural style I would be rocking. After about three months of still trying to figure out what style resonated best with me, I got to thinking seriously about locs. I’d always admired locs—and all the many variations of types, textures, and stylings. Thus, by the end of my official junior year, I had made my decision—I wanted to lock my hair. So, as soon as I arrived back in Saponi country I made my way into the city and into the salon chair of my tomin [aunt]—there, I placed my order.

At that time she had very little faith in my decision—so little that she refused to cut my relaxed ends for fear I would change my mind before summer’s end. I obliged her love …nevertheless, after spending my summer in the hellish heat of a motorsport camp and managing to perfect the struggle look of madwoman emerging from pool water on a smoldering hot day, I found myself sitting once again in the chair of my tomin—this time prepared more than ever for the big chop.

After it was all snipped and chopped I left the salon a new mahei [woman], and for the first time driving home, half watching the road and half glancing at myself in the rearview mirror, I realized how big my head really was.

Yet, none of that mattered because I was going back to university different, not yet spiritually, but definitely physically and wee bit mentally.

And while family and friends counted down the hours until I came back to their senses—I was busy making a commitment to myself and my itsy bitsy baby-struggle locs—one that said we would never part ways…little did they know upon agreeing to be so ride or die they would be in for one helluva lifetime…or was it little did I know …eh, Tomato—tomáto.


So, what’s the purpose of Nadira’s Locs?

Since the day my dead ends were chopped off—I have grown and learned so much about myself, my life, my love, my world and this universe and the world that we all share. I’ve acquired knowledge beyond measure in the last 5 years and counting—and I know there is so much more I’m meant to overstand. Upon deciding to nurture budding locs I had not given a mental journey or a spiritual journey much, if any, thought. Instead, I began this transition with the intentions of merely going on a physical journey. However, now I know the Universe had been conspiring miraculously—unbeknownst and unforeseeable by me at that time.

Thus, I write to you now and over the days to come many of my reflections, my overstandings, my thoughts and my ponderings—of the many flowers and thorns I’ve had the honor of being delighted and/or pricked by. I can never again in this lifetime or the next be the young woman I was upon my loc’ing day, but before myself I stand an ever-new wombman, changing so delicately as the seasons of the Great Mother of Laurels. Perfect—I am not, but changed I will forever be.

Biwa & Andestagōnwa ♥
[Peace & Love]

—Not-So-Nappy Nahdee [Tañyi, 2016]

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