My partner Stephen and I had left Western Massachusetts to visit one of my mother's close friends in one of the most eastern coastal towns in northern Maine—Machiasport. When ready to retire, Liz had returned to living in her family home there. I hoped to hear her stories of my mother, as she had lived two houses away from us and had often stopped to chat with my mother for a few minutes in the kitchen. Ours was a neighborhood of comfortable homes that were older and as varied in size and style as the families who lived in them. Big trees and kids pedaling by on fat wheel bikes were our story. I remember the day Liz had opened her black, well-worn department store purse to show my mother her diamonds. As Liz lived in a home that was small and modest and wore practical clothing, I now imagine that the rings had been worn by her mother, and this was a way of remembering her.
Leaving the Maine Turnpike, Stephen and I drove through coastal towns and chanced upon a gift shop of Native American crafts. As we entered, a woman standing behind a counter challenged us, her voice strong. “Why have you locked your car?” With both of us stopped in our tracks and showing our surprise, Stephen answered her. “We always lock our car in an unfamiliar area.” The woman, still stern, replied, “No one locks their car on my land.”
After this unusual entrance, and with no other words from her—or between us—Stephen and I took our own routes through the store. I was aware of where he was pausing as I returned to the counter. There for only a moment, and before engaging in any conversation with the woman, she and I turned simultaneously toward the rows, seeking to discover Stephen who we could hear softly sobbing. Then he emerged. He stood shaking, recounting that he had suddenly felt deep sadness.
The woman now introduced herself as Barbara Running Water, a Penobscot* Tribal Adjudicator. She traveled among the state's tribes, and carried with her the suffering of her people. Stephen, highly sensitive to other people’s energy, had felt her peoples’ history. As Stephen quieted, she hugged him.
Then releasing me from a hug, she said, “You hug like a child.” Her words have remained significant for over twenty-five years. I still hug a few in my family—yes…like a child—but I am aware of it, for I have since matured. When my six-foot-seven grandson and I hug, he lifts me up like an elevator—with both of us laughing right through my being lowered to the driveway.
My realization is, "When knowing and accepting the truth of our behavior, we are acting with awareness."
* Penobscot: Algonquian-speaking North American Indians who lived on both sides of the Penobscot Bay and throughout the Penobscot River Basin in what is now the state of Maine in the United States. They were members of the Abnaki Confederacy (now known as the Wabaniki Confederacy) made up of American and Canadian tribes. The Penobscot people hunted, fished, and collected wild plants, with seasonal movement to obtain their food. In winter, small family groups lived in hunting camps within separate family territories, rights to which were inherited through the male line; larger camps and villages were inhabited during the summer. The tribal chief embodied little power, generally acting as a tribal representative in ceremonies or in dealings with outsiders and sometimes adjudicating disputes. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Penobscot-people