A Few More Sentences – 19
Zaagibagaa-giizis (Budding Moon) Edition
Boozhoo, indinawemaaganidog! Aaniin! That is to say hello, all of my relatives! Welcome to another edition of An Irritable Métis. In this case, I am happy to present the NINETEENTH EDITION! of the monthly sentences.
For those of you new here this monthly edition, where I post the daily, single sentences that I’ve accumulated for the month-just-ended, is based on the practice that ultimately led to my first book, One-Sentence Journal, back in 2018.
It’s a simple practice and fulfilling … and also maybe not so simple as it may seem. Regardless, the practice is excellent training for paying attention to the small moments of my life, and I enjoy sharing those moments here. As always, I deeply appreciate your time and attention. If you feel compelled to offer up a few of your own observations in the comments, I would love to see them.
Do you like these sentences and anything else you see here? Consider becoming a paid subscriber. It really does make a huge difference, every single one.
Preorders for Becoming Little Shell are going strong. I’d love you to consider that too, if you are of a mind to! You may do so HERE. I’m going to be increasing the blather about its imminent release over the coming weeks, complete with reviews and blurbs and other exciting things. It’s getting closer and closer!
Finally, remember I’ve decided to revive an Instagram account. You may follow me HERE (and thanks to all of you who already have!) if you are into that kind of thing. I don’t post much, mostly just notices to events and such that I’m involved in.
2024_0501: My heart swells with gratitude for the intrepid spirit of a bold teacher, and certainly the subtle guidance of a spirit or two, who brings me out with students to the Sweetgrass Hills, an area as culturally important to me as the Turtle Mountains and a place I don’t know when I’d have ventured to without her invitation.
2024_0502: The fan on high and an open window on a frosty night can’t really match up against the ferocious persistence of tonight’s home cookin’.
2024_0503: Daydreaming about paddling from one book event to the next.
2024_0504: This season’s suet block debut of the Lewis’s woodpecker.
2024_0505: Gathered with good friends for a final session to end a yearlong-plus campaign at the gaming table and a potluck broke out.
2024_0506: Mimicking the sounds of my language in jest to get a laugh from a buddy will earn you a vigorous call-out, even if you are only twelve.
2024_0507: Morning road work after a night of rain, clouds hanging off the cliff face, the road as much made of worms as asphalt.
2024_0508: Geared up in the drizzle for the morning’s road work, and in the car just an empty seat where the rucksack should be.
2024_0509: Startled by the quantity of intrepid Missoulians turning their backs on a long awaited glorious evening to be indoors for poetry instead.
2024_0510: Final day in multiple classrooms for this school year and I won’t say I’m disappointed.
2024_0511: The OMD is its foxiest version that I can remember.
2024_0512: A long drive to Central Montana behind the wheel of a fresh ride I don’t have to return.
2024_0513: Sunshine and wind on the eternal High Plains.
2024_0514: Wee hour grunts, growls, and snarls outside my tent: happy badger or disgruntled prairie dog?
2024_0515: A hot shower and a cold beer lead to a blissful state just beyond curbside at the B&B Motel.
2024_0516: A flooded creek makes impassible the trail to the Sun Dance grounds.
2024_0517: A new-to-me span of gorgeous highway – 191, Harlowton to Big Timber – and I’m astounded over how many ways one may be compensated for saying, “Yeah, I can make that happen….”
2024_0518: The park ranger working the northeast entrance looks at my tribal ID and says, “Welcome to Yellowstone….” then hands it back and says, “… and welcome home,” and my heart near bursts from my chest.
2024_0519: Another unexplored highway, this time from Columbus to Red Lodge on a damp, misty day, proves otherworldly with green rolling hills, woody creek bottoms, and curious whitetails.
2024_0520: Creekside among mossy boulders, surrounded by fifth graders, the snow begins to fall.
2024_0521: Home in time to catch the borderline obscene blooming of my favorite-ever tree.
2024_0522: A mad scramble to find the time to start thinking about almost making a deadline.
2024_0523: Morning caps of snow crystals on the flowers of the cherry tree.
2024_0524: With all of your contradictions intact you are stunning as ever, my home away from home.
2024_0525: The prayers and poems take the day off when every footstep raises, like grasshoppers in a dry summer field, a sudden scattering of ghosts riding memories.
2024_0526: Another large public engagement behind me and I’m considering a beaded “gig vest” that delivers the admonition, surrounded by glorious Métis flowers, “Please Don’t Touch Me, I’m Working.”
2024_0527: A few days of low level nausea, headaches, and befuddlement due to high altitude did nothing like wading through an almost visible fog of laundry detergent stench, cologne, perfume, and various other product-based reekings did – while making my way to my seat at the back of the plane – to make me almost blow chunks of Holiday-Inn-Express-biscuits-and-sausage-gravy-breakfast all over those pour souls seated in the final few rows.
2024_0528: “We suffer to prove our devotion” is the mantra as hours six, seven, eight, and nine roll by in service to the Seven Grandfathers from a chair at Blaque Owl Tattoo.
2024_0529: Under their protective wrappings yesterday’s clean lines take on the shapeless blobs of a potential Rorschach test.
2024_0530: Hard news arrives with the reported passing of a local icon.
2024_0531: Morning coffee on the porch, astounded by how the world comes to life with sunshine and cottonwood leaves.
Of Particular Interest to Missoula Area Readers
I’ll be speaking for ten minutes, give or take, in support of CASA of Missoula, this coming Wednesday, June 5th, at 7PM.
What is a CASA?
Court Appointed Special Advocate volunteers serve as the “eyes and ears” of the judge, gathering relevant information about the child and the family. They make recommendations to the judge regarding what is in the child’s best interests. A CASA volunteer works to ensure that the child is placed in a safe, permanent, nurturing home as quickly as possible.
Along with a couple other notable Missoula-area folks I’ll be talking about a time during my youth that an adult made a positive impact on my life. It’s an important cause and I hope a few of you can find time to join us!
I love these sentenced glimpses of your month. "welcome home" also burst my heart open, in reading. The USA customs officer who inspected my luggage upon re-entry, after three years away from this country, said the same thing to me. "Welcome home." I felt a similar expansion. A reddening of the face and spirit.
What a treat to wake up to on a damp Sunday morning. Every sentence says something to me but in the wake of the way things are I'm still holding onto one from April: 2024_0421: For all the daily bullshit there is plenty evidence of decent people in the world almost everywhere you look.