Word of the day

Pedicure = toe refreshment
Padraste: we're ready
Verchatsene: we're finished
Dooile Leshark = bucket line
Ingher = friend
Vardaquin = pink
Gagarch = poppy
Vart = rose
Hogh = dirt
Skul = school
Achig = girl
Get = river
Dooster = daughter
Maireek/mama = mother
Avalush = see you later
Aghves = fox
Cove = cow
Hoki = soul/spirit
Beton = cement
Badinka = boots (in Russian)
Voznie = hedgehog
Leeka = full
Dartak = empty
Kyle/Gayle = wolf
Shoot -Shoot = fast/faster
Lav = good
Shatlav = best/ very good
Dune = house
Che = no
Voch = no
Hah = yes
IO = yes
Havanetsie = I like it
Eench Areshez = what is the cost
Auntsrev = rain
Tsegh = mud
Hav = chicken
Kar = stone
Khoomb = team
Dooile = bucket
Barkavatshel = prosper
Parev = Hello



Monday, June 27, 2011

Eight White Feathers

The Museum of Armenian Genocide ; Tsitsernakaberd Park, Yerevan, Armenia.

We visited this memorial and museum on May 28, 2011.  Thoughts about this visit have been rambling around in my head trying to organize themselves and I'm finally ready to let them out.  I was feeling very honored to have a chance to visit this memorial and I was feeling a little personal stress about how to properly and privately honor, bless and recognize my own ancestors.  I knew I was going to lay a carnation down at the flame site but I wanted to do something more - Rewind to my final night of packing... I was racing around the house doing last minute "everythings" and I finally figured it out - I'd bring eight feathers - white ones if I had them.  I'm a feather collector - they hold special meaning for me. And why eight? I love the number, eight is also infinity turned on its side, it's the number of my birth month, it's auspicious in many cultures and religions...it also honors pairs of grandparents, parents, generations on both sides of the families - there are way more than eight - but there are eight immediate ones - the ideas about "eight" could go on forever I didn't think about  it much just knew..." Eight".   And white - well, there are the ideas about white and spirit, ancestors, purity and honor that fit well with my thoughts.  I was also feeling a bit smug because as everyone knows - feathers are almost weightless so I would not be adding much to my 50 lb luggage weight limit by adding in a few feathers.   So feathers were also "practical".  Checking feather inventory... I did in fact have eight white feathers ... just eight to be exact - hooray! and then kind of weird that I had just enough.   I carried the feathers protected in a zip lock baggie in my money belt the entire trip.  They went everywhere I did. 

I have to admit that I was caught off guard at the power of place and the emotional response I had when I visited.  Walking up the steps to the entrance I looked up and thought, "whoa".  and  "whoa".  Words that I jotted into my journal were words like:  silent, vast, somber, powerful, permanent, peaceful, a little angry, kind of lonely, but only a little and only kind of- there was an interesting connection that occurred visually and energetically. It was also kind of scarey -this big, huge quiet and gray place. It was intimidating but I also felt like I belonged.  It was kind of welcoming and inviting yet it also was full of warnings and sharp angles- this big, huge, quiet place.  And other words I jotted down were:  gray, black, well balanced, classy, amazingly clean, at peace, subtle and loud.  Contradictions of thoughts, emotions and literally of place. Contradictions or "perfect balance".  I think I experienced "perfect balance". Not neutrality...balance.  No judgement or attempts to convince.  Just the "facts jack" - come to your own conclusions. 



The site is enormous and gigantic and amazingly powerful.  It wasn't particularly crowded.  It was in fact a beautiful day.  On one side, there stands a wall with the names of villages carved at the top.   Noona, Cynthia's cousin who lives in Armenia, was with our group that day and she was a great translator.  As I stood there, I began to find that I was searching for some sort of personal connection.  I asked her if she could help me find where on the wall that listed all the villages, was the name Sepastia/ Sivas.  The name of the area where both my grandparents were from.  The names of the areas that were devastated during the genocide were carved into the stone and they were carved in the Armenian language so I was at a bit of a disadvantage.  "Sure" said Noona and we walked over to the sidewalk that ran parallel to the names and she began reading... almost in time to our footsteps...  "Bitlis"..... "Habousi"....  "Erzurum"....  "Sepastia"... "Shatakh"... "Van"...  words echoing like reading the list of those who died at a memorial service yet I was also excited that she helped me find what I was looking for...  - and there were so many names , in fact too many of them.  You think of the human beings involved - it's overwhelming.  Each name that Noona read represented thousands upon thousands of people.   I realized right then and there the value of these memorial places and the value of a monument -  Places like this help preserve memory - and not just memory, they channel emotion, power, compassion and gentleness.  They connect on certain levels with certain people.  People who need  something to be recognized in an important way.   Noona spoke each name very respectfully and with honor.  There were a lot more names that what I've listed... each one kind of landing like a thud on my heart  as she read them out loud.  I'm sure what I've listed are out of order and spelled wrong but I was speechless and overcome with the powerful emotion of sadness and gladness - there it is again perfect balance.  I asked if she would take my picture.  I felt proud and disrespectful at the same time.  There it is again Awkward contradictions.  Contradictions - even in my own emotions and thoughts.  Yet, here it was etched in stone: the truth.  THE TRUTH.  Publicly recognized and significant AND  listed among the long list of other villages  .. Sepastia...  my family's place - its tap root - the foundation place, the legacy that lives on in our DNA whether we want it to or admit it does - the name of the place they came from, we came from  - important enough to be included.   I often get to wondering what it might be like to actually stand in Sepastia - but that's a trip for another time.

I walked over to the eternal flame site with my white carnation in hand and eight white feathers in my zip lock baggie.  I stood silently next to others in my group who had set their flowers down and were busy in their own thoughts.  I placed my carnation along with the eight white feathers on the side of the eternal flame on the cement- I sent blessings into the air and watched as a couple of the feathers I had just laid down on the cement kind of blew around catching on the stalks of the other flowers that had been laid down and tumbling here and there.  "Darn" I thought - should I retrieve them? Should I put them back before they flutter into the flame and burn up?  But I decided to let things go - and let them be.  As I stood there, two feathers seemed to have minds of their own - they took flight and floated gently up and up and up.  "Oh no", I could barely look - I could barely watch, it was painful - here were the feathers I carried with me this entire time, and no sooner had I laid them down maybe two minutes before were now headed right for the flames...  but suddenly they picked up speed and floated up, up, up and out of the circular opening at the very top of the eternal flame monument, escaping the flames and out into the open, perfectly clear and perfectly blue sky.



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