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Category: Musings Monday

  • Musings Monday: On Healing Justice & Sacred Activism (Part 5 of 5)

    Image Description: A stick of upright incense in a bowl on a wooden table. The smoke curls in the shape of a heart against a black background. The title on the image reads: “On Healing Justice & Sacred Activism” with the URLs “lukayo.com” and “patreon.com/lukayo“.

    (This article is one of a 5-part series written in the spring of 2017 for a spirituality and social work class.)

    As I struggle to keep my daily practice alive without regular classes to keep me accountable, I diversify how it is done. I am centering on the bus. I meditate on the train. I wander my neighbourhood and speak to the buildings and plants around me. I trance in the heart of Toronto, the downtown streets steaming with unsavory odours while their oracles stamp themselves into my mind through spraypainted graffiti on innocuous brick. I peer into campfires and sacred fires all night long in the woods at Henvey Inlet First Nations by the rez, grounding myself into firekeeping and lodge-building and ceremony with Cree, Anishinaabe, Haudenosaunee, Metis, and others. I spend hours divining meaning in the tumble of stones, the patterns of shells, and the spread of cards. I make food for my Ancestors. I pray. I seek Spirit in my activism.

    When one of my oldest friends, a gay Indigenous man, defends police involvement in Toronto Pride, repeatedly bringing up this sore point between us, I try to open myself to be mindful, to deep listening. “Deep listening requires us to clear space in ourselves first, so we can offer that space to those around us” (Gomez, 2015, “Listening is Sacred Activism, para. 12). I take a deep breath, I try to clear myself of all the pain and baggage I have around the police. I try to be present in the holistic and total nature of my friend that exists beyond this moment, and expand myself outside the incredulity that a gay and Indigenous man would defend the institution of policing. Instead I let myself be curious. I open up a space. I try to “come from a place of understanding and compassion” (Gomez, 2015, “Sacred Activism”, para. 8). From this place, I confront him gently, lovingly, by speaking my own truth without attacking his and by exploring this love or passion he has to defend police.

    I wonder if this is what it means to use bawi as part of interpersonal conflict? What Butot (2004) calls “spirituality”, i.e. “a recognition of the intrinsic interconnection of all beings and a recognition of, and respect and reverence for one’s own and others’ intrinsic wholeness, sacredness, and value as an expression of the diversity of this interconnection” (as cited in Butot, 2007, p. 149), is foundational to bawi. There is no native Bicol word for “spirituality” among my people because it is a part of our culture. What Butot’s definition stops short of, is the responsibility inherent in that connection. The gratitude that is expressed and the amends made because of it. I see this more reflected in Sheridan’s (2012) work concerning the connection of social justice and spirituality through seven key themes: “(a) spiritual motivation for justice work; (b) recognition of interdependence; (c) the means matter; (d) acceptance of not-knowing; (e) openness to suffering; (f) outer change requires inner work; and (g) commitment to spiritual practices” (p. 195). Specifically themes (a), (c), and (f) speak to this, though I could go on about each of these themes and how important they are to my own life, and find myself surprised that I wholeheartedly agree with every single one of them.

    I think what I find most interesting is that these themes need to be written about and gathered as “evidence” to practice spirituality with social work, when from my background, I don’t understand how to practice social work without spirituality– it would feel false and colonial and oppressive. It would neither be true to my values, nor my communities. In these readings, I scanned for what I understood about my spirituality– which is a connection to Spirit, and to the spirit worlds. None of that was mentioned. Instead, all of this seems like practical and obvious behaviours and protocols of a spiritual nature, but still without the admission of connecting to actual spirits.

    My sacred activism is all about healing, navigation, mediation, and advocacy– between people and institutions, the living and the dead, and humans and spirits. They’re all transferable skills, though the techniques are different due to technological advancement, and how culture grows, is colonized, decolonized, and resurges. However, though the course readings did not touch so much on my own ways of “spirituality”, it did clarify to me how social work and spirit work can be similar, and how my life path unfolds with the two intertwined or merged into a single movement, a flow of sacred activism.

    Works Cited

    Butot, M. (2007). Reframing spirituality, re-conceptualizing change: Possibilities for critical social work. In J. R. Graham, J. Coates, B. Swartzentruber, and B. Ouellette (Eds.), Spirituality and social work: Select Canadian readings (pp. 143-159). Toronto: Canadian Scholars’ Press.

    Gomez, M. B. (2015, September 10). Sacred activism: Mindfulness and racial justice. The Huffington Post. Retrieved from http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marisela-b-gomez/sacred-activism-mindfulne_b_8080444.html

    Gomez, M. B. (2015, November 11). Listening is sacred activism. The Huffington Post. Retrieved from http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marisela-b-gomez/listening-is-sacred-activ_b_8485818.html

    Sheridan, M. J. (2012). Spiritual activism: Grounding ourselves in the spirit. Journal of Religion & Spirituality in Social Work: Social Thought, 31(1-2), 193-208.

    If you like what you’ve read and want to support healing work among my Elders, teachers, and communities, please subscribe to my Patreon. Link to the original article here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/26449495

  • Musings Monday: On Healing Justice & Sacred Activism (Part 4 of 5)

    Image Description: A stick of upright incense in a bowl on a wooden table. The smoke curls in the shape of a heart against a black background. The title on the image reads: “On Healing Justice & Sacred Activism” with the URLs “lukayo.com” and “patreon.com/lukayo“.

    (This article is one of a 5-part series written in the spring of 2017 for a spirituality and social work class.)

    Back against the wall, smoke unfurling up and across my body, wreathing my head and sliding into my nostrils. I remember the smell of coconut husk shavings and fire, soothing me as my energy fell into the ground and spiralled upwards. My grounding exercises are tinged with guilt and responsibility, since I had stopped the practice quite frequently in the last two weeks before. I’ve built a new sleep routine, with the exercise, and flossing, and grounding exercise. Issues that have been bothering me throughout the day begin to resolve themselves during the grounding period– not even actively. I watch the thoughts come and go like the flickering images on a screen, moving from confusion that a situation is happening, and then blooming, unexpectedly into a sense of understanding as to the motivation and what it means to me. It also gives me time to pay attention to my aching and ill body.

    As I write this reflection, so late that it’s almost morning, I think of Hanh’s (2007) admonishment: “If you don’t know how to take care of your body, how to release the tension in your body and give it permission to rest, you don’t love your body” (Hanh, 2007, p. 48). I grow sad about the revelation that I don’t love my body, because I definitely want to. The truth of the matter, though, is that my actions do not align with my desires, with my wants. This is something that I desperately want to make right. I wonder if I can incorporate it into my grounding exercises, lengthen them from 10 minutes to 20 minutes, by embracing mindfulness through a self-healing. “When you come to an organ or a part of your body that is ailing, you can stay with it longer, using the energy of mindfulness to embrace it and smile to it. This will speed the healing” (Hanh, 2007, p. 49).

    I think about the microcosm of my body being a type of balance that needs to be restored, and all the things that need to be transformed for that to happen, within myself, outside myself, and all the social and spiritual communities and environments I inhabit. Similarly, the macrocosm of cultural community, and of society in general, replicating the harm being done to the body by the harm we inflict on all Creation. Baskin (2011) believes “the balance needs  to be restored by making the one who caused harm accountable, providing compensation to the person who had been harmed, and conducting healing ceremonies” (p. 153).

    These healing ceremonies are what fascinate me, what drives me to my inevitable life’s work, and to the group “Healing Justice Network Toronto” on Facebook. How do we bring the community together so we just don’t restore lives to a broken system, but transform those lives and transform the broken system together? And not just fancy spas and luxurious “spiritual” retreats only accessible to the privileged and rich. These ceremonies and circles should be open to any who want to transform their communities and support the reparation of relationships from harm, for “the true measure of our character is how we treat the poor, the disfavored, the accused, the incarcerated, and the condemned” (Stevenson, 2015, p. 18). I would even go further– it’s not just how we “treat” them, it’s how we centre them, it’s how we empower them to lead their own movements while we work alongside them.

    This subject has been on my mind even more so than usual because I will be on a panel on June 26th called “Alternatives to the Criminal Justice System” from racialized LGBTQ perspectives. My contribution to the panel can be summed up in Stevenson’s (2015) emphatic belief that “each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done” (pp. 17-18). Last summer I was on a similar panel, and I spoke of what it means to rehabilitate oneself, to restore the balance, and work towards transformative and healing justice when you are a person who has done harm. I talked about self-accountability skills and how crucial that is in being accountable to your community. I talked about ways to offer compensation, and ways to make amends. But I did not speak of healing ceremonies. On this new upcoming panel, I think that’s definitely what I want to discuss more of. I want to explore with my fellow panelists and also those who’ve come, the nuances of a survivor-centric politics while trying to practice transformative justice, and what that means for communities that do not have shared accountability lore and traditional customs. I feel like when the queer and trans community tries to implement such processes, that they inevitably fall apart because there isn’t that foundation of trust in a tradition with recognized Elders that can bear the process and have the confidence of the community. That for these processes to be more effective, grounding it in ceremony, in a community-wide consensus on what our values are and who we are asking to embody them, need to be the next steps.

    Works Cited

    Baskin, C. (2011). Chapter 9: Healing Justice. Strong Helpers’ Teachings: The Value of Indigenous Knowledges in the Helping Professions. Toronto: Canadian Scholars’ Press.

    Hanh, T. N. (2007). The art of power. New York, NY: HarperOne.

    Stevenson, B. (2015). Just mercy: A story of justice and redemption. New York: Spiegel & Grau.

    If you like what you’ve read and want to support healing work among my Elders, teachers, and communities, please subscribe to my Patreon. Link to the original article here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/26449384

  • Musings Monday: On Healing Justice & Sacred Activism (Part 3 of 5)

    Image Description: A stick of upright incense in a bowl on a wooden table. The smoke curls in the shape of a heart against a black background. The title on the image reads: “On Healing Justice & Sacred Activism” with the URLs “lukayo.com” and “patreon.com/lukayo“.

    (This article is one of a 5-part series written in the spring of 2017 for a spirituality and social work class.)

    As my illness waxes and wanes, the crumbling of my body, the fog that smothers my intellect, and the surging tide of despair and rage that leaves puddles of hopelessness in its wake– all become factors and bitter seeds to chew upon as I reflect on how I fell out of my daily centering exercises. There are ways I tried to make up for it– I tried to exercise more every day. I tried to center myself on the subway– though inevitably I fall unconscious. I try, so hard, not to shame myself about it. And yet, shame I feel all the same. Did it begin with the physical examination? The doctor’s appointment that demanded that despite the levels of chronic pain I am in, exercising will help? I downloaded an app to monitor my sleep, food intake, and exercise quantity. Then there was the dentist appointment. She asked me to floss every night. I noted it and tied it to a before bed practice. The app could not add my daily centering practice. The app began to regulate my life, and the centering faded from my memory– as if I can only hold one daily routine at a time, as if the flossing, though not electronically monitored, replaced it within my mind.

    I seek to return to the centering practice this week. I seek to absorb the lesson here. I have tried, throughout the decades to make lists on my walls, on my phone, on my computer, of routines I “should” do daily. Inevitably they are forgotten in a few weeks’ time if I don’t have a form of accountability attached to an external source. Often I shame myself that this is a personal failing. Now I contemplate that this, in fact, is a symptom of a gift that I have, of connection to others, of the sort of deep empathy I can cultivate because of my ability to attune to other people’s needs and align with a group’s values. I am driven into being useful to those around me– if a daily practice does not seem immediately useful in a way that can be externally and readily validated, it fades from my habits. Just like the flossing did years ago until I had a check-up. My thoughts are spinning on how to organize weekly meetings (online and offline) with a spiritual care group (of self- and community-care) where we write each other journal entries on our daily practices.

    I also know of the dangers that my connection to others, what is sometimes called “reward-dependent” behaviour or codependent tendencies, can wreak. As Hanh (2005) points out, “We busy ourselves doing as many things as possible, taking refuge in doing more and more, faster and faster. The more we do, the greater the suffering becomes” (p. 13). It is easy for me to escape into the tempting lull of “busy”ness, away from my feelings and the hard work I must do in solitude or in difficult dialogue. In this, there is a revelation as I read Hanh’s piece on “Uprooting Terrorism”– there is a difference when I am compassionately there, as a counselor, a social worker, a being of connection love; and when I am a rescuer, a workaholic, a being that needs to keep busy and be rewarded for it. I cannot truly be there for others’ suffering when I cannot be there for my own suffering. I cannot truly be present and attentive when I am busy rescuing.

    Such interpersonal lessons, of the terror and pain in our own hearts, and the terror-filled actions that I have done and received from individuals, also translates into social groups, and institutional terror wielded by the state. So often I see “allyship” and “solidarity” as words flung about in moments of self-identification, when in fact they should be used to describe a relationship. I cannot declare myself someone’s spouse having never met them, and yet people call themselves “ally” when they have not tried to contact the group of which they claim to ally themselves with. Walia (2014) talks about moving “beyond a politics of solidarity”, specifically in regards to Indigenous issues, by

    taking initiative for self-education about specific histories of the land we reside upon, organizing support with the clear consent and guidance of an Indigenous community or group, building long-term relationships of accountability, and never assuming or taking for granted the personal and political trust that non-natives earn from Indigenous peoples over time (p.46).

    This paragraph can be broken down into four different essays in themselves, about what self-education looks like, how to build accountability relationships, etc. However, it inspires me to see it all written out like that, and validates my approach to stop being a “rescuer” in all ways in my life, from my activism to my romance, and instead work together with people to liberate ourselves from terror and trauma so that we may achieve joy and peace.

    But what would it look like to listen to my own suffering on a macro-scale? To understand the plight of my communities, of Pilipinx and QTBIPOC peoples? King’s (1963) “four basic steps” to a nonviolent campaign offer insight: “collection of the facts to determine whether injustices exist; negotiation; self purification; and direct action”. Though I am well aware and even proficient in fact-collecting, negotiating, and direct action, it is the third step that strikes me. Self-purification. King describes his process for the Birmingham direct action program as “self-purification” when his group put on “a series of workshops on nonviolence” where they asked themselves soul-searching questions like to what extent of violence they would be able to receive and how they would respond nonviolently.

    Here I believe is a service I both want to learn more of and organize and offer more of– the process of self-purification in our communities before we head towards direct action. Rituals of preparation, grief, rage, and contemplation as to our purpose and the desire for transformation and justice at our core.

    Works Cited

    Hanh, T. N. (2005). Calming the Fearful Mind: A Zen Response to Terrorism. Parallax Press.

    King Jr, M. L. (1963). Letter from Birmingham city jail.

    Walia, H. (2014). Decolonizing together: Moving beyond a politics of solidarity toward a practice of decolonization. In T. Kappo and H. King (Eds), The winter we danced: Voices from the past, the future, and the Idle No More movement, 44-50.

    If you like what you’ve read and want to support healing work among my Elders, teachers, and communities, please subscribe to my Patreon. Link to the original article here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/26449099

  • Musings Monday: On Healing Justice & Sacred Activism (Part 2 of 5)

    Image Description: A stick of upright incense in a bowl on a wooden table. The smoke curls in the shape of a heart against a black background. The title on the image reads: “On Healing Justice & Sacred Activism” with the URLs “lukayo.com” and “patreon.com/lukayo“.

    (This article is one of a 5-part series written in the spring of 2017 for a spirituality and social work class.)

    When I center myself, my body falls back into myself, into my aches and pains, but also into my hopes, my connections, my Will. When I center myself, I connect to the land, to my ancestors, to my spirit helpers, to the legacy I want to leave behind when I move on to the next world. When I center myself, I notice myself, I notice the world outside the scope of my wounding, into a vision of what is and all its brimming potential. When I center myself, I am giving myself time, and kindness, and care. 
    When I center myself, it also reminds me of how, outside these moments, I am disconnected from my body, from the land, from food. It is a lifelong struggle, fraught with agony that allopathic doctors will try to describe using colonial terms like “depression”, “eating disorder”, “(un)healthy immigrant syndrome”, “body dysmorphia”, “pre-diabetic”, “irritable bowel syndrome”, “gluten sensitivity”, “lactose intolerance”, and on and on and on. I am exhausted with these names they call me that cement the poison in my body instead of celebrating my resistance and resilience.
    Hanh (2000) writes that “each morsel of food is an ambassador from the cosmos” (p. 7) and hooks (2009) feels connected to her ancestors when she “can put a meal on the table of food” that she grew (p. 39). Part of my spiritual practice at this moment is learning how to grow plants, to speak to plant spirits, and know their story. My healer/teacher, who I will call Ate Agila, has advised me to stick to foods from my homeland. My spirit helpers, specifically the Owl, explained to me that any being taken as “food” for two-leggeds/humans is part of a bawi (debt/spiritual connection) that was honoured in a ritual of exchange and sacrifice. Foods outside of my homeland, I may not have paid the price for, or my ancestors may not have made the appropriate exchange/deal. This makes a certain sense when you look at the foods I am allergic to, or have become increasingly more allergic to as the years pass. We had water buffalo, not cows. We definitely did not drink cow’s milk, my ancestors. We had no wheat or corn– we ate rice. I still can eat eggs from chickens, who are descended from red jungle fowls, a being originating from my part of the world, perhaps from our ancient sacred being, the Sarimanok itself. For chicken in our dialects are called “manok”. 
    I do not spend enough time with the earth, this I know. I attempt to repair some of the relationship by having an altar to the elements, with shells and rocks from this land and from my homeland. I give offerings to it regularly, as well as to the animals I’ve killed myself (chickens and a pig). But I want to be able to grow food that I can make a meal of. I want to be able to eat miracles, not my terror and sorrow and pain. 
    It is a brutal, vicious circle of feeling disconnected from the rhythms of the earth and the relationality of my people, that drives my body to strife and despair, which is soothed by a mindless consumption, which brings on more pain, which disconnects me further from my body and from the land, which pushes me to eat more…
    This reminds me of when Simpson (2014) wrote of the “hyperindividualism that negates relationality” in the colonial education system of Canada (p. 9). Though I would never dare to presume that my decolonization journey as a Bikol person in the diaspora on Anishinaabe and Haudenosaunee (and Wyandot) lands are equivalent to the indigenous resurgence of Anishinaabeg, I still feel the weight of colonial and settler colonial systems on myself and my people. I am implicated in coloniality, benefiting in one context while oppressed in another. Thus, for me to restore a relationship with my body, I must restore my relationship with food, and for me to restore that relationship, I must restore my relationship to the land, and thus, the caretakers and stewards of the land. I have been blessed in this life for having teachers/Elders of Turtle Island that are Anishinaabe, Haudenosaunee, Mikmaw, Sauk-Fox, and Cherokee– Two Spirit people who have welcomed me in ceremony and adopted me to certain rituals and responsibilities. […] I hope to continue good relations, by supporting the work of the Haudenosaunee at the Six Nations Reserve. I plan to give semaa to those there that are building an Earth Ship. My visions and dreams have told me that this is where my path leads, to working with the Earth for the good of Two Spirit and Trans/Queer Black People and People of Colour. 
    Simpson (2014) asserts that “the land must once again become the pedagogy” (p. 14), and I spend time listening to the Earth and asking her what she wants. She wants me to acknowledge the sovereignty of her caretakers. To mourn all the pain she is enduring. To not let my connection to her be severed, weak as it is. In a vision, the ghost of the land spirits my great-grandparents in Bikol had harmed came to me, and asked me to make amends by pledging myself to the revitalization of the Earth, by being a Warrior and a Guide. So I have accepted, if the curse on my ancestral line is meant to be broken, it would be in this way my family can make amends. I am researching local conservation efforts, cleaning up waste whenever I can, and calling on my relations, like my father and my chosen family who are gardeners, to assist me in reconnecting. I hope to at least grow a mint plant from a seed this summer. In another vision, my great-grandmother Lola Colo (Sabrina Oppiana Estrella), asked me to grow herbs and make them into oils, to follow in her footsteps as a healer. She tells me that it’s not just the sacred nature of the coconut that makes the oil, or the herbs that I grow myself, or the fire that heats them together, but the prayers to each being, and the prayers of love that must be said when the beings are applied to a human’s skin, asking these different agents of creation to repair, restore, and heal. For “when we love the earth, we are are about to love ourselves more fully. I believe this. The ancestors taught me so” (hooks, 2009, p. 34).
    Works Cited
    Hanh, T. N. (2000). Mindful eating. In The path of emancipation (pp. 7-8). Berkeley: Parallax Press.
    hooks, b. (2009). Touching the earth. In Belonging: A culture of place (pp. 34-40). New York: Routledge.
    Simpson, L. B. (2014). Land as pedagogy: Nishnaabeg intelligence and rebellious transformation. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society, 3(3).

    If you like what you’ve read and want to support healing work among my Elders, teachers, and communities, please subscribe to my Patreon. Link to the original article here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/26448785

  • Musings Monday: On Healing Justice & Sacred Activism (Part 1 of 5)

    Image Description: A stick of upright incense in a bowl on a wooden table. The smoke curls in the shape of a heart against a black background. The title on the image reads: “On Healing Justice & Sacred Activism” with the URLs “lukayo.com” and “patreon.com/lukayo“.

    (This article is one of a 5-part series written in the spring of 2017 for a spirituality and social work class.)

    I watched the incense unfurl, twisting and coiling in beams of sunlight, my gaze intent on the shapes, my mind a two-fold step– I followed the movement of smoke and used it as a means to cleanse myself of the incessant chatter of thoughts. When thoughts came to me, I watched its movement as I did the incense. I observed the twirling and contracting of ideas and my body’s responses. I noticed the sharp pains and dull aches, the quivering fears and brisk bullet-points of things-to-do, the observations of observations. While images wafted into my consciousness, gentle chants of “I am here, I am witnessing” or a single violet flame or the feel of my wooden staff (crowned with tourmaline and black wire), any or all of these grounding techniques returned my attention to my being, my wholeness, my Self. My body-focused prayers of Dignity, Community, Ancestry, Legacy, and Commitment began each 10-minute period of reflection, silence, and meditation. I carried meaning with me like the staff I held in my hands. The chant of ulililang kaluluwa, galang kaluluwa, bathala, bathala, bathala was the sacred meaning-making of the coconut smoke that wreathed my body. My attention and meditation a silent chant; the flow of life within and without like wisps of coconut incense.

    This daily practice reminds me of who I am. My trauma — my soul wounds — sometimes spread through my body, mind, and spirit like a poison, fracturing my wholeness, yanking my behaviour into incomplete performances against threats long vanished. Rage, terror, grief– these cords that pull me to and fro, mindless and in agony, refusing to let me rest, dream, care, or seek comfort. But when I do this daily practice, a practice combining ancestral teachings, energy healer training, and an exercise given to me by my somatics trauma counselor, I am whole again. My soul wounds are given some time to heal. I am reminded of what I am before the wounding, beyond the wounding. I am shown what still remains after destruction and loss. From this point of stillness and meaning, I move through the world connected and compassionate and myself. From this seed, I can grow.

    Canda and Furman (1999) write about three steps regarding our responses that are part of being in reflective silence (p. xxiii). Remen (1999) discusses “healing the shadow of a culture” through rituals of grief and gratitude (pp. 38-44). Kumar (2004) introduces concepts of nourishing soil, society, and self from the teachings within the Bhagavad Gita (pp. 74-82). To me, these are all connected. My Commitment to Justice, Protection, Nurturing– they must first grow in reflective silence. Understanding my responses interpersonally and to systems of oppression can be a step towards connection and compassion, or towards the cultural shadow of mastery and control. For my own growth, I aim to redirect myself to the former when I notice that I am responding mechanically to the latter. So often in social (justice) work, it becomes more of the righteous and who is in control instead of healing, education, nourishment, and transforming our responses beyond the familiar subroutines of oppressive dynamics.

    It is a dream of mine to heal cultural shadows with rituals that honour loss and celebrate what we have in life. Influenced by the work of Renee Linklater’s (2014) Decolonizing Trauma Work book, I have already begun the outlines of what it means to work with the cultural traumas of my own people, the Bikol people in the diaspora and in the homeland, and of the various Filipino diasporic peoples within the settler colonial state of Canada. It occurs to me, when reading Remen’s work, that there are complicated intersections of wounding– that a Filipino doctor will have the wounding of the medical culture as well as the colonization of the Philippines on her spirit. A disabled trans Bikol poet, like myself, must handle the woundings of medical culture in a different way (the receiving end of the power dynamic as opposed to a medical professional’s institutional power), but still share the wounds of colonization, while having different wounds specific to cissexism/transphobia, and the Bikol people within the larger context of the Philippine islands. As a wounded healer, Remen’s words has given me new insight, like the first time I read of the individual symptoms of soul wounds (what allopathic Western science calls “trauma”). Now I can see the variety of cultural wounds that exist. I begin to feel the connections, the swelling tide of compassion inside, the nourishing desire for rituals to heal, to grow, or just to witness such grave and vast losses.

    Kumar connects the Gita’s teachings to my own Bikol ancestral teachings, of the interconnectedness of all things, similar to the Bikol word bawi, which can mean debt and connection to the land, the spirits, the dead, all living things, each other. A parabawi, one of my many ancestral gifts and modes of healing, is the person who mediates between their communities debts to the rest of the world, be it plant, animal, ancestor, deity, or the spirits within themselves– mistakenly sometimes only seen as a simple exorcist. But my training as a parabawi, my understanding of bawi, teaches me that we must nourish and replenish and give back, through offering and right relationship, what we take every day through our mere existence. Critical social work is just another mode of the healing that is part of my heritage and the service I delight in, that I have a responsibility to administer, that I know is part of how I give back. I am stimulated and inspired by the examples Kumar outlines– it spurs the urge to plant trees while having more sleep and solitude retreats and fasting. My heart responds to these road signs along my path to transformation and healing. From that inner peace, I hope to give forth compassion. From that return to wholeness, I hope to offer guidance to others on their own healing, on their own return to a whole self.

    Works Cited

    Canda, E. R., and Furman, L. D. (1999). Spiritual diversity in social work practice: the heart of helping. New York: Free Press.

    Kumar, S. (2004). Soil, soul, society. In You are therefore I am: A declaration of dependence (pp. 74-82). Totnes, England: Green Books.

    Linklater, R. (2014). Decolonizing trauma work: indigenous stories and strategies. Nova Scotia: Fernwood Publishing.

    Remen, R. N. (1999). Educating for mission, meaning and compassion. In S. Glazer (Ed.), The heart of learning: spirituality in education (pp. 33-50). New York: Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam.

    If you like what you’ve read and want to support healing work among my Elders, teachers, and communities, please subscribe to my Patreon. Link to the original article here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/26446788

  • Musings Monday: More Than Minorities

    (5 Tips on Building Alliances with Indigenous Folks and/or Black Folks as a Person of Colour)

    Content Warning: anti-Black racism, settler colonialism

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    .

    When I was a younger trans and queer person of colour (PoC), I remember the first time I was welcomed into a PoC-only space, and how ecstatic I was, that we finally got to let our guard down and relax, not having to worry about being talked down to, talked over, assumed to be aggressive and/or “child”-like if I was expressing emotions, fetishized, interrogated about my origins, compared to other folks of my race, used as an exception or standard of folks of my race, and other such micro-aggressions. But as I attended more events, and built closer relationships, it became clear that there were other dynamics at play, that there were still hierarchies based on skin tone and/or moves to innocence that ignored the importance of treaties and the thieving privilege of citizenship. We didn’t really know how to have each other’s backs half the time.

    Simply put, there were a lot of anti-Blackness and settler colonial nonsense among my fellow folks of colour (including myself), and when we were called out, we claimed an inability to be racist because of a lack of physical Whiteness, forgetting that the ideology of Whiteness and white supremacy can be internalized by virtue of being raised in anti-Black and settler colonial spaces. Racial discrimination and internalized racism is a real and serious issue among folks of colour, and to forget it is to jeopardize and oppress our accomplices and community members.

    So this article is a litany of my mistakes and the mistakes I’ve seen in others, that harmed folks, that hurt collectives, that stalled movements of anti-racist action and alliance. I mean, I may also probably mess up in the course of this article, in which case, please feel free to correct me and definitely I will offer reparations if the correction involves the labour of Indigenous and/or Black folks. Lastly, this article is an attempt at giving some fairly basic tips to other people of colour that are non-Black and also settlers/non-Indigenous. We’re not all in the same boat, but we’re still in this together.

    Here are the five tips altogether:

    • Work on your own stuff.
    • Work with your communities to co-organize workshops on undoing Anti-Blackness and Settler Colonialism.
    • Support Black-only spaces, Indigenous-only spaces, and Black and Indigenous-only spaces.
    • Centre Black and Indigenous leadership in people of colour spaces.
    • Reparations.

    Read the rest of the article here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/22115167

  • Musings Monday: I Am Not A Burden

    Content Warning: ableism, ED, chronic illness, mental illness

    Image Description: Black background with stylized yellow stars. In a greyish-white thought bubble are the words “I Am Not A Burden” in yellow. Beside the thought bubble in yellow text is the following: “5 TIPS AGAINST INTERNALIZED ABLEISM”. Below that in white text is “patreon.com/lukayo” and “lukayo.com”.

    When I first started to come to terms with how disabled I’d gotten, I was furious and then despairing. I had always been somewhat sickly– an asthmatic child that tired easily, and due to my large frame, spent years with an eating disorder that was undiagnosed despite the radical shifts in weight. The reality that I would have more to manage mentally, emotionally, and physically in unpredictable and drastic ways was daunting and left me with fatalistic ideation that I would soon come to recognize as “internalized ableism”. Over the years, I’ve reached out to other disabled folks asking them what they’ve done to stop their own attitudes and thoughts that just made things worse, and this is what I’ve learned.

    1) Educating yourself.

    I read everything I could by Eddie Ndopu, Patty Berne, Sins Invalid, Mia Mingus, Leah Lakshmi-Piepzna Samarasinha, AJ Withers, and Eli Clare. I also read the following articles on internalized ableism:

    Understanding that there’s a system at work, and it isn’t just about me, began the process of unlearning self-hatred, but it was usually an intellectual change, and my emotional gut reactions were still there.

    2) Reminding yourself.

    Since my emotions tended to erase a lot of theory that I’d read, I tended to put up reminders, either through a side tumblr filled with disability activist quotes, and print-outs I’d put up on my wall so I could see it when I woke up. I’d even try to post these reminder lists on my desktop. These are the ones I particularly like:

    If you want to make your on side tumblr and you’ve never done anything like that before, just pick a cute name (I chose the Bikol word for recovery), and then in the search bar type in search words, whether it’s “chronic illness”, or “disability justice”, or “disability rights”. You can even type in your diagnosis for specific kinds of affirmations and quotes on it. You may come across other tumblrs that also only re-blog quotes, theory, and affirmations, as well as hilarious and soothing memes. You can follow them and begin the process of accessing these kinds of reminders. You can also set it up so that when your browser opens, it immediately opens up to your side tumblr page.

    3) Reaching out.

    Here we get to some scary stuff, in my personal opinion. I found it easy looking for resources to read and use to remind myself. But actually reaching out to real, live people? Yikes. I did it anyway. I needed help. I went to free disability-focused conferences, like the Reclaiming Our Bodies & Minds Conference at Ryerson University. If I went to festivals and conferences that weren’t only about disability, I prioritized attending any workshops and sessions that were on disability– whether the events were about sexuality, gender, spirituality, or general activism. I prioritized spending time with my disabled friends and temporarily able-bodied folks who had high access intimacy with me. I made request posts looking to start a personal care collective.

    4) Sharing your story.

    This article is basically an illustration of tip #4. So were all the Facebook posts that honestly talked about my needs and barriers. So were all the filtered Facebook posts and secret side tumblr posts where I just broke down and word-vomited all my pain and frustration at what seems like an ever-increasing mountain of disability and ableism. I also shared with people over the phone, on private messenger, over text, in person in private rooms, classrooms, and public workshops. I shared, consensually, with family members, friends, strangers, and professional care workers. I wrote stories and poetry; I made art and music. I prayed and shared with Creator, my ancestors, gods, and spirits. I laid out all the internalized terrible nonsense inside of me, dragging it out so that the poison could be seen instead of left festering in my heart and soul.

    5) Accepting support.

    Of course, once I reached out and I shared, then came the offers of support. I thought I had done all the hard work already, but I was horrified when folks offered support, and horrified that I felt horror in the first place. Some of my concerns was legitimate– I was used to the folks who were already providing me care and I trusted them. I would have to go out on a limb and attempt to rely on people that I did not know very well and thus had not earned much of my trust. Sometimes I would not have the energy to face a new person in my personal space providing me care, and I would just go without the things that I needed, worrying as to whether I had let my internalized ableism win or whether I was rightfully cautious yet paying a price that was beyond my control. Either option was shitty. But when I did have the energy to take that risk, the joy and relief at having a new care collective member and/or friend that embodied the kind of world where interdependence and community care is the norm was overwhelming that I found myself weeping and/or laughing once they had left. I found myself overcome with hope and, after every time, the barrage of internalized ableist thoughts would quiet further and further. It’s a start.

    I hope these tips help you, especially if you’re beginning your journey of strategizing against your internalized ableism as a disabled person, just like me several years ago. Feel free to comment on this article or message me about it!

    Like what you read? Want to support my community and the Indigenous elders that mentor me? Please become a patron: https://www.patreon.com/posts/21944958

  • Musings Monday: 3 Lessons on Survivor Culture

    Content warning: discussions on rape culture and sexual abuse

    Image Description: Four hands are holding each other’s wrists in a square-like shape. Half the hands are dark-skinned, and the other lighter-skinned. In the background is a blurry field of pink flowers and green grass and greyish-blue sky. The text reads: “3 Lessons on Survivor Culture” and “patreon.com/lukayo – lukayo.com”.

    Every time there’s a media frenzy surrounding sexual predators, I inevitably get triggered and need to hide under a blanket cocoon with carefully catered books and Youtube videos and/or to visit a counselor. I toy with the possibility of spilling out my own stories of sexual assault, messaging my sexual abusers demanding an accountability process, naming my sexual abusers (one of which was a friend of a large number of people in my queer gamer polyamorous social circles in Ottawa/Odaawaa), or any number of things that, still, to this day, does not involve calling the police on anyone involved. I didn’t call the police before because of how the rape culture that surrounded me (and that I had internalized) insisted I was to blame and that I deserved it, and I don’t call the police now because of my prison abolitionist and transformative justice views (though no shame to folks that need to do it in dire circumstances). To this day, it isn’t the existence of sexual predators being highlighted in the media as the trigger for my flashbacks, but the rape-culture-fuelled reactions that send me spiraling into a world where I was taught my very dignity and safety was never mine to have.

    Ultimately, I’m not interested in sharing with you my own story because I’m not convinced that it will be useful for me or for you. I think the only statistically concerning things from my experiences is that all of my perpetrators were white or white-passing, and possibly exotified me because of my “brownness” and/or “Asianness”. Many were cisgender men, and all had a relationship or identity with (toxic) masculinity. However, the reasons for violating me ranged from my perceived masculinity, my perceived femininity, or my perceived androgyny. I think discussing how whiteness, toxic masculinity, the objectification of transgender folks and/or femmes, and rape culture needs to be deconstructed is important work. But that’s not what I want to write about today, simply because I don’t have the energy or desire to, and I would rather see my white masculine allies who aren’t survivors doing this work among their social circles (though if my white masculine survivor friends feel this is part of their healing journey, I’d encourage them too).

    What I, personally, find helpful, is talking about survivor culture, and how it saved and continues to save my life. The three lessons I want to share today is about how focusing on survivor culture itself instead of rape culture is healing, how “being on the side of the survivor(s)” is complicated –especially when there’s more than one involved or they’re accusing each other–, and how sometimes losing community is part of healing.

    Read the rest of the article here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/21779114

  • Musings Monday: My Healing Work

    Who do I serve?

    I generally offer healing for my family, friends, and members that I’m in spiritual groups with. This may change once I become a registered social worker, in that I will only be able to offer “traditional” healing to them and not anything that can be described as social work or counseling. I also serve particular communities and offer healing work to them. The main community I support is anyone who has ancestry from what is colonially known as the Philippines. The secondary community I support is anyone who has identities and experiences that are not heterosexual and/or not cisgender, and who also identifies as Black and/or Indigenous and/or a Person of Colour (often under the acronyms of QTBIPOC, QTIBPOC, and 2SQTBIPOC). If you fall outside of those communities, I can still offer healing to you, just know that I prioritize my communities because of how they support me and receive very little support or access to the kinds of healing they want and need. This means that I tend to book community members first, and those outside of those communities will be put on a waiting list or booked further down in the month.

    Where do I serve?

    Currently, as of September 2018, I mostly serve within the Tkaronto/Toronto region, in the territories of the Tionontati, Wyandot, Haudenosaunee, and Anishinaabe. Anywhere that I can get to using the GO Train is acceptable, and I prefer to travel to people personally, as my home is not particularly accessible to receive visitors. On occasion, I will travel to the Odaawaa/Ottawa region, in unceded and unsurrendered Algonquin territory, but because it is not on a regular basis, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to see you when I visit. I can do some forms of healing long distance, over chat, Skype, Google Hangouts, Facebook video, or the phone– though that would mostly be emotional support and active listening. If you would prefer I come to visit your town/city, contact me to organize a weekend pay-what-you-can retreat for your local community and I would be happy to run group rituals and sessions with your people.

    When do I serve?

    Currently, I have a part-time job and I do not offer healing all the time. If you would like spiritual and religious healing sessions, Tuesdays and Fridays are best, with occasional Sundays for emergencies. For all other kinds of healing, I can visit you or meet with you on whatever day is most convenient for your schedule. I need at least 48 hours to book in advance, though if I am having a particularly busy month, it may take two weeks for me to visit you in person.

    Why do I serve?

    Everyone and anyone has the capacity to heal. I believe that healers are vessels for the work, and healing works through them. I also believe that though we all have capacity, we all have different gifts to offer based on life experiences, training, and inheritance. I serve because of the gifts I have in working with spirits and energy, partly inherited from my great-grandmother Sabrina Oppiana Estrella, my great-aunt Adelina Estrella Albaniel, and my grandmother Lorenza Olivario Estrella. As a baby, my family was attacked by an aswang, and in surviving that attack, it initiated life-long sickness that would eventually lead me on a path of compassion for others and learning as many ways as possible to heal myself. Whatever I have learned on my healing journey, I share freely with others.

    What happens in a healing session?

    The first thing I do is try to make you as comfortable as possible by asking questions. Are you okay with eye contact? How is the volume of my voice? Am I sitting too close or too far? Do you want me facing you or beside you? Do you want to be sitting, lying down, or on the floor? Do you want me to be in a closed space or do you want the door open? Do you prefer to be touched, i.e. your hand held, or do you prefer no touch at all? Would you like a blanket? Would you like some water or tea? Would you like to rearrange anything in the room?

    Once it’s established that you feel as comfortable as you can in the environment we’re both in, I then talk a little bit about transparency, confidentiality, and the taboos that I’m under. I will tell you that according to the laws of the land, I am obligated to report to the authorities of the land if I find out about active suicidal ideation, active intent to harm, or harm to a minor, otherwise I could be prosecuted and jailed, so please consider carefully what you disclose to me. I have spiritual taboos where I cannot set a price for spiritual healing and accept donations only. I also cannot eat meat unless I have killed and prayed over the animal myself, or it was killed and prayed over by people I trust. I cannot partake of any drug (including alcohol, coffee, chocolate, green tea, black tea, etc.) unless prescribed by a doctor or unless it is part of a ritual. I also cannot do any form of healing if I am severely sick or injured in any way, to ensure that that energy does not pass to you. If we happen to meet outside of the healing session, I will not approach you to respect your privacy, unless you approach me first. Once I become a registered social worker, there may also be other regulations that I will have to disclose to you so that you understand the limitations that I am restrained by in our healing work together.

    After that, I ask you what healing means to you. If you need more probing questions, I may ask specifics, like what kind of healing have you received in the past, what did you like, and what did you not like. Do you prefer Western healing in the form of counseling and coaching? Do you prefer spiritual, religious, traditional, pagan, and/or indigenous forms of healing? Do you prefer healing justice work?

    If you prefer more Westernized approaches, I explain how I use anti-oppressive practice (AOP), narrative therapy, cognitive and dialectical behavioural therapy (CBT/DBT), somatics, peer support, emotional release, and the arts. This means that we can discuss how outside social forces contribute to your problems, talk a lot about how you see yourself and how that can change, discuss ways to unlearn behaviours you no longer want and re-learn behaviours that you would consider more positive for you, have me as a supportive and validating ear, work with pain and triggers in your body to uncover and release painful memories and incidents, support you in expressing your emotions through sounds/weeping/body movements, and creatively working on your emotions, memories, or problems using a variety of art forms.

    If you prefer more spiritual approaches, I explain that I begin by giving an offering and prayer to the Creator/God, Ancestors, and Guardian Spirits/Angels of you and me, as well as to the spirits of place and the Land. I then ask you if I can cleanse the space we’re in with smoke, water, salt, sound, or my samod/walis tambo so that we can prepare our spirits for healing work. After the cleansing, I ask if I can do hula/palad/divination, which means I am asking permission for your Ancestors and Guardian Spirits to communicate with mine using my divination tools to send messages to us both regarding your healing journey. These divination tools look like cards I have drawn myself that is loosely based on the Tarot, glass beads, shells, cloth with intricate drawings on them, breaking a raw egg in a glass, burning candles on porcelain plates, pieces of wood and string, and looking at your palm. While doing divination, I will most likely explain to you a Bisayan/Bikol creation story as part of the teachings of the divination tools and how the spirits are speaking through them and to you. Occasionally, a spirit may be “channeled” through me or speak through my mouth.

    If you prefer healing justice work, I combine both approaches that I described above. For more information on healing justice work, please read this amazing article by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha: http://micemagazine.ca/issue-two/not-so-brief-personal-history-healing-justice-movement-2010%E2%80%932016

    Regardless of what approach we start with, I will then ask you what you would like to work on for this healing session. We can work on any and all of the following (though usually one thing per session depending on how much time we have): emotional concerns like grief and rage, behavioural and social concerns like addictions and codependence and managing abusive people in your life, negative/dangerous ideation, soul wounds/trauma, energetic/psychological support for physical healing, curses, hauntings, dreams, and more. Or perhaps a (w)holistic approach that covers multiple areas. Depending on your answer, we’ll figure out together what options we can use. This can range from handouts with exercises, the use of crystals, herbs, affirmations, sigils, touch, bodywork, energy work, chanting/singing/praying together, lighting candles to saints and/or deities, referrals to support groups, the creation of charms/talismans, and strategizing for collective and direct action against oppressive institutions.

    We would end the session with a check-in of how it went for you, and whether you would like to book another session now or contact me later. If we did any form of spiritual healing, we would thank the Creator and all the spirits that worked with us, and then cleanse the space and each other. I would then ask you to take the offering and place or bury it by a tree close by or near your home.

    If you were attending a weekend retreat that I was facilitating, it would very much be a spiritual approach, though with planned group ceremony, arts-based activities, food, breaks, and spending time with the Land.

    Whether after a retreat or one-on-one session, I will try my best to follow-up with you, or make myself accessible to you if things come up for you while healing, and whether further support is needed.

    How do I receive payment?

    I cannot set a price for the spiritual healing work that I do, though once I become a registered social worker, you can book me as a social worker using a sliding scale that I will advertise. This is because there is a tradition among my family and my people that if we ask money for spiritual healing, it becomes more difficult for us to be a vessel for the healing work. However, if you are pleased with the spiritual healing you received, please donate to my Patreon so that I can support my Elders, teachers, and community healing work. I also accept an exchange of goods and/or services, depending on what is being offered. Please check in with me before you offer something– I may not have the time in my life to take you up on it or space in my home to store it. Meals or assistance in chores around the home are always welcome. Please try not to donate to me personally (this does not include my Patreon) until you know for sure that the work has been successful or is complete in some way.

    Am I the right fit for you?

    Now that you’ve read through everything, I want you to consider if I’m the right healer for you. Do you have regular access to other Western counselors or spiritual healers and are not from the communities I serve? Perhaps you should seek those people out, so that it makes space for folks who have a greater need. Are you curious and want to try me out for “entertainment”? Please do not do this, as I could have been spending time with folks that are suffering or in distress who need healing. Are you anti-spiritual and/or bigoted in any way? It will be difficult for you to take me seriously and consider my support valid, and you may be better suited to seek help from someone else. Do you want me to heal someone other than yourself? I cannot do that without their consent, so please have them contact me too. My mannerisms can also range from gentle and loving, to clownish and teasing, to grave and intense. This could be due to the spirits I’m working with at the time, or the mood being created between the two of us. If you have a very specific concept of what a healer should look like, talk like, or act like, I may surprise you, and not in a way that you would like, so please consider that and be upfront if you feel uncomfortable or if we’re not a right fit once we meet. I will do my best to refer you to other folks once I understand further your boundaries and needs.

    If you have any further questions, please contact me at lukayo.estrella@gmail.com. Diyos Mabalos!

  • Musings Monday: Noah Heart

    [Image description: There is a photo in a blue frame. In the photo, there is a brown-skinned man with dark hair, glasses, and a long-sleeved shirt who is praying to an angel statue. The blue frame has the words “NOAH HEART” at the top, “DREAMS” to the left, “WISHES” to the right, and “HEALING” at the bottom.]

    The first time I remember meeting my uncle was when I returned to Philippines with my father, mother, and brother as a nineteen year old. He read my aura and I thought, here was someone in my family that would understand me. I was still too shy to talk to him, but when I returned four years ago, we connected and he gave me valuable advice about our family’s gifts. He is my father’s cousin, and part of the bloodline of Lola Colo, also known as Sabrina Oppiana Estrella, my great-grandmother, and my father and uncle’s shared grandmother. She was an albularyo/village healer in Guinobatan, Bicol, Philippines, and she is the Ancestor that visits me often in dreams and visions to guide me. I recently reconnected with my uncle again this year, and learned of his healing ministry and practice in Makati, Luzon, and other parts of Philippines. I am so proud of the work my uncle is doing in helping people, and I am proud of supporting that work. Here is a written online interview between him and I.

    L: Why are you called Noah Heart, Wish Whisperer and Dream Reader?  

    NH:  No heart is the origin of my name. I was broken , depressed and fueled by revenge until i got into a spiritual group where people like me hoped to get answers in the challenges of life.  I noticed a lot of people asking for the meaning of their dreams on that group. Since childhood, i am aware of my gifts however throughout my life i never really used it to other people but my family. It is a first to share it to that group by interpreting dreams and it started with that then one day suddenly someone overseas asked me to try to heal her mom, to my surprised i received the news that her mom was healed.

    [Image description: The Noah Heart Dream Reader Facebook page with a picture of Jesus Christ –brown eyes, brown hair and beard, pale skin– in a grey-white cloak. Besides the regular Facebook menu options, it also says “5 out of 5” and “Public figure in Makati”.]

    L:  How were you called to be a healer?  

    NH:  God is giving me a message at this point. I also realized this is not mine. It was shared to me by the holy spirit to help people. That is when i transition to being called Noah Heart , Wish whisperer.  I whisper to God and to the holy spirit the wishes of people and with his timing and grace they are helping people in ways not even i expected.

    [Image Description: The Noah Heart Wish Whisperer Facebook Group Cover Page. There is a photo of a smiling brown-skinned man with dark hair and eyes, and green glasses.]

    L:  What are the kinds of healing that you do?  

    NH:  I started with interpreting dreams and praying over for wishes. Mostly spiritual healing like Karma cleansing and Aura healing. Common and severe diseases like arthritis, internal organ problems and many more. Healing is unlimited and does not have boundaries but limited to the will and grace of God.

    [Image Description: A statue representing the cherubim spirit Daryll, who helps with Healing, Wishes, and Blessings. The statue has a round, pale, pinkish head with brown eyes and wavy brown hair. The neck is surrounded by stylized bluish-white feathers.]

    L:  Who are the people that go to you for healing the most? 

    NH: All kinds of people whether they need advice for their emotional and spiritual wellness or whether they have diseases that affects their physique. Men, women, old, young and other sexual orientation as well seeks help. Everyone is welcome and i’m more than willing to help regardless of their state

    [Image Description: A statue representing the cherubim spirit Louie, who helps with Healing, Wishes, and Blessings. The statue has a round, pale, pinkish head with brown eyes and  straight brown hair. The neck is surrounded by stylized bluish-white feathers.]

    L:  How can people support your healing work, in the Philippines and abroad?

    NH: I want to reach as much people as possible. Im fortunate enough to worked with like minded individuals who worked with me to help people. We were able to help a lot and i can only imagine the impact we can put in the society if we have enough funds to start more projects and finally establish a foundation that will guide people to God and help them with their problems in life. I hope that you will be a part of our journey that inspires to make this world a better place. The soon to be foundation is Noah Heart Foundation. Heart that gives.

    [Image Description: Two clear bottles filled with white-ish oil that have labels which read: “Healing Oil” and “Noah Heart”. There are pictures of the cherubims Daryll and Louie on the white labels. The bottles are on a black table and there is a gold statue in the background.]

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