THE VEIL IS THIN

BY TRACY SCHLAPP

My shrine would be
a tree for growth and deep roots
to represent my family ties and how I’ve grown
every branch to explain the directions
I’ve gone, even tho I’ve gone towards every path,
I’ve grown to rise above
my last. My days were like leaves
I’ve shed with seasons
To only end tall and strong.

       Nathan “Koyote” Cutfinger

As we walked into Oregon State Penitentiary on Wednesday, I felt that shift from the vibrant autumn to low light fall. The brown leaves on the ground are the reminder that like the trees, we are turning inward. We are ready for deep reflection — traditions throughout the world celebrate the thinning of the veil, a time to tune in with our higher selves and the divine, a time to remember and celebrate ancestors.

We brought in a copy of the article The Intersectionality of The Saints: Celebrating Halloween, Samhain, and The Afro-Mexican History of Dia De Los Muertos by Chiara Atoyebi from Art Insights to prime our thinking about the cultural significance of this time of year and the ever-present weights that we carry through the writing — themes of time and legacy, of life, and death. We talked about Dia de Muertos and how building shrines sets the stage for communing with the dead. For our free write, we asked our writers to consider what might be left on their shrines.

Devere Sanchez talked about the importance of a pack of Marlboro Reds (a signal of his prosperity) and a red Bic lighter. He knew his ancestors would want him to have tobacco, fire, and the color red? He says, “That’s a Native thing.” Matt Reyes spoke of the shrine that he keeps with the Eagle feather given to him by his father who has passed, an aunt who also has passed, and the Eagle feather given to him by his mother from her marriage ceremony to his father. We are reminded by Matt that the conversation is constant with an understanding that his Eagle feathers will be incorporated into the next generation’s shrine.

For his tombstone, J. Hunter wrote, “A man who knows the time is from time to time useful. But, a man who knows himself is wise all of the time.” Austin Clark, also wrote his tombstone, “Much more solid than this physical object. More persistent and enduring than the endless winds of ceaseless time. Physical forms of shapeless legacy remain echoing outward in infinity. We are all part of this song and music never dies.”

Le’Var Howard specified an enduring statue carved in stone that contains multiple images from his life, like the faces in the writing group, depictions of his labor in the prison laundry … “A statue creating a perfect portrait with many of my writings, works, recordings to be heard and read.”

In our session there was also the looking back. In his poem At My Mother’s Feet, DL Smith (a new writer for us!) circulates through autobiographies to find and record a personal history. The lines of ancestry cross and tangle in his understanding of his legacy.

”She would softly tell me tall tales
Of imagined lineage; old Okie conceits,
Attempting to link our people back to
Stonewall Jackson or Billy the Kid.
As if we should be proud of this,
These myths of Southern Poverty,
Hanging around our necks like the harness of a plow”

Another new writer in our circle, Jai feels a lost life at this time of year. The recitation of Chalk Lines in November is his offering.
“A simple chore to save oh tormented slave at tasker’s hand
Slither in bitter slivers of slant and betray — all
To the war that is waged oh collateral harm by lateral means
The taking of life-giving treasures became fatal”

This morning whether you are sorting Halloween candy or trying to ignore the jar in the office, consider lighting a candle, making an offering. Remember the lines that brought you to this day, and think about what you have to offer for the future. What would you have people leave on your shrine? | TDS