blessed image………………come back ancestors fandom i miss u
tbh the happiest time of my life was when this art blog was 90% dolorosa so i think it’s kind of sweet that i would be drawing her again. i looked at the dates of some of my favorite hs pages today and i started having heart palpitations
Reminder: On days you feel like you can’t keep going, remember you carry the resilience of your ancestors today and every day before and after today. You are made of resilience. You are made from the bones of warriors. Remember.
Tala Waialiki, as a rebellious and enthusiastic young lady, was the partner of the Chief of Motunui and ever since she was a young child was always more drawn to the ocean than anyone else on her island. She and the Chief discovered a cave of canoes, and upon playing the drums they were given the knowledge of their ancestors. Tala discovered that their world was dying and that she was chosen by the ocean to seek out Maui and restore the Heart of Te Fiti.
Despite her husband insisting that it was too dangerous for her to leave the island, Tala took a canoe in the dead of night and sailed away to find Maui at the bottom of his hook, just as her ancestors had instructed. Already days out at sea, she found herself lost. She had a vague idea of how to be a wayfinder by what she had seen of her ancestors in her vision of them, but had never been properly taught. As luck would have it, a school of manta rays were migrating along the current she needed to guide her in the right path of the hook.
Finally, Tala had found Maui’s island. She could see it just over the horizon in the distance. A small, bare, rocky island but she was sure that was where the ocean wanted her to go. It was that day that Tala found herself feeling off. Though she was certain she was not ill or seasick, Tala had vomited over the side of her canoe. Something was not right. As if by instinct, her hand went to her stomach and she paused. She could feel it deep in her heart. She was carrying a child.
She realized she could not continue on if this was to be, and she stood to face the ocean. Taking the Heart of Te Fiti from her necklace, Tala held it out in the palm of her hand for the ocean to take. She would mourn this journey’s end, but celebrate the beginning of a new one.
Hey everyone! So my dad told me a fun fact a few years ago, he showed me how to predict the weather by using the moon. Apparently in the old days, our ancestors (Blackfoot tribe) used the moon to tell the weather. I’ve been testing out this theory for quite some time and it’s always been right!
So I found some images from google to show you how (sorry about the quality). But if the moon is in a straight up crescent like this….
Then that means it’ll be windy; It’s like the wind is creating a block.
If the moon is a crescent going upward…
Then it’ll be nice! They say the moon is holding everything in.
Then if the moon is a crescent facing downward…
Then it’ll be rainy or snowy, like as if the moon is pouring it all out.
Again this is just a theory/old tale. Test it out for yourself and see what you think :)
All my life, I thought that queerness was invisible in the histories of China.
I looked desperately when I was younger, for representation from my own people. I would fan through the mythology books, crane my head against the historical tv talk shows my grandma liked to watch in the evening. Anything, any sliver. I found only brief mentions, of perverted relationships, of STIs, of disease and sadness and the victimization of the people like me.
Not the white gays with their rainbow flags and gay pride parades. But people, like me, yellow skin, black hair, hands reaching out to the ones they loved, reaching into their bodies, pulling out who they really are from the costumes they are forced to wear.
It wasn’t until I was much older when I heard about the stories.
Of the emperor so in love with one of his officials, that when they were napping in the afternoon one day, and the emperor was called away by others for city matters, and his lover was sleeping on his sleeves, he would rather cut the sleeve of his royal gown in half rather than disturb the other man’s rest.
Of the soldier from FuJian who fell in love with one of his officiating officers, who spied on the officer when he was showering because that was all he could do. He was discovered. He was tortured. He was killed. He came back in the dreams of the villagers of the place where he was positioned. He petitioned, no, demanded for a temple to be built so that people like him could pray for love safely. The villagers complied, when outsiders asked, no on answered as to why they were building this temple to a Rabbit God.
Of the Oldest Goddess who never married. Living in her temple in the west with her tigers and spirit companions and peach trees draped so heavily with fruit that every three thousand years they had to be relieved of their immortal weight.
Men approach her, their hands grappling for immortality from her luscious garden, and she rejects all of them, showing them a mirror to the unworthiness of their own selves.
Of Mazu, a girl who knew how to walk on water when sleeping, how to fly over the sea, pulling her loved ones out of disaster. Who when she died, bested herself against the demons pursuing her for marriage, transforming them to her companions instead, ever watchful guardians seeing and hearing her surroundings for her as she continued caring for those who needed her.
I now scramble to remember my language again, look for statues through the streets of China town, trying to find the coins and the moon blocks and the fortune sticks so I can light incense and pray and say that I see my people and my people see me. I had to look to find the weirdos and the forgotten Gods and the ones who were like me, on the edges of the sea in islands off the coast of main land. Travelling to foreign lands with me in my blood and body and breathe and memories.
I remember seeing Mazu, and H’si Wang Mu, and Tu Er Shen, and The Emperor with the Cut Sleeve and his lover when I was little, their narratives twisted to fit into the heteronormative cissexist ideals of their main stream devotees, and I didn’t know what that meant.
I didn’t know they were like me. And so I thought I was alone and so I thought my people and my spirits have abandoned me.
But here they are, the fags and witches and dykes and singles and powerful women and men and trannies that stand proud in the worship of millions. That no matter how hard their devotees may try to twist their stories, they will always be there for the people like them.
Throw the moon blocks, cast the coins, pull the qian.
“I thought not. It’s not a story the Heaps would tell you. It’s a Darke legend. Saarn and Naarn were Darke Wizards, so powerful and so wise that they made the comparative layman Hotep-Ra jealous. He did things that forced them to take action against him, but he fled. For many years and all over the world they chased him, until finally they caught him just as he was about to leave the Castle. Powerful Warrior Wizards as they were, they gave him a good fight, but he used trickery, and together with the devious Queen he trapped them in a ring.”
Painted dogs, in Africa. Only 6,000 left. From The Dodo:
They’re thought to be the oldest living canine on the planet. We’re talking 40 million years — millions of years older than even wolves, who many consider the direct ancestor of the modern-day dog. But recent research suggests dogs and wolves both descended from common ancestors at least 27,000 years ago.
In all their years on this planet, they’ve never been domesticated, instead wandering an ever-shrinking swathe of sub-Saharan Africa’s plains and woodlands.
Intensely social, they’re known to share their kills — antelopes, wildebeests, even rats — and they are uncommonly kind to the injured and elderly in their pack.Their telltale features include large rounded ears and just four toes on each paw, as opposed to domestic dogs who have five.
I remember the names of my ancestors. I speak the names of those I love. I speak their names and they live again. May I be so well-loved and remembered. In truth, may the gods hear my name. May I do work worth remembering