Re-member-ing for Strength

through the ancients, into the present moment

NOTE: This post was inspired by Mark Bisone’s article in which he wrote about the man, the legend, John Henry. And gee, am I gonna further “whitey-up” the scripted narrative, mm hmm.

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Around five decades into my life, I became deeply interested in my heritage.

I did not send my DNA-laden spit sample to some creepy company that has no interest in me other than tracking, tracing, and tricking me. Ugh! No. I asked questions, and I did research.

I know from family records both verbal and written that my mother was Scottish, Swedish, and Lakota Sioux (interesting combination there!), and that my father is a full-blooded Norwegian. So naturally, being the little-but-feisty bitch that I am, I gravitated toward the Norse aspect of my being.

My parents told stories of how, when I was born, they had to make up a name for me. My father used his original Norwegian first name “Hareis” — rearranged with an added “n” — to create my first name. Both our names, by the way, have emphasis on the second syllable, which is rare in two-syllable names. Nice creative use of language, Dad!

From the earliest age, I resisted even mundane attempts of others trying to control me. My mother said she would dress me in adorable department-store-bought clothes each morning and as soon as she turned around, I would shed the clothes (sometimes even my diaper) and go running around naked, singing and dancing! She also said that I never grew out of the “why?” stage of development. (Um, yeah, why would I stop asking questions about this fucked up world?)

Yeah, sure, I got indoctrinated by the best/worst government schools (aren’t they all mental gulags?), but somehow, I have kept my Thor’s Hammer (Mjölnir) in my hand. Oh, the stories. (You should read my book.)

Thor is one of the primary Norse gods of mythology. He was a bad-ass of the most loving kind, someone you would want in your tribe. Even though Thor was a very manly man, I have his essence in my blood, in my bones, in my spirit.

By the way, Thor, or tor, in Norse root language means “heart” or “heart friend.” It also refers to tea, which is a warm beverage of herbs and roots, often shared amongst loved ones.

My Thor’s Hammer (Mjöllnir) talisman, handcrafted in Finland (part of Scandinavia, so O-kay, yah). I bought the beaded chain online. I staged the heart-shaped photo on my dining room table, then edited the image in Photoshop and added textures, a vignette, and a border in ON1 Photo RAW.

Anyway, that’s the Thor’s Hammer (Mjöllnir) talisman that I wear as a necklace every day, as a reminder to never give up, to never give in, and to always use my Creator-given in-tuition. I will drill down the fucking fuckers and their fuckery, one hammer’s toss at a time.

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As always, I wish you much love and creativity in your lives!