I find myself early on today at a impasse about my interests in my own tribal and cultural history. I’ve spent two days on thinking and researching on the possibility that what I was told about my own history could have, might have been complete…

Bullshit.

I’m fine with that for the most part. I’m making shit up as I go along anyway with a grain of truth.

1. I am an American Highlander. Sword and martial arts trained not card carrying.

2. I am a nomandic soul. I am not tied to the dirt I was born on but I have itchy feet in need to travel around to and from one location to another.

If I could consider what is the notion of a home. I would say it’s tribe and family. My immediate family are mostly long gone with one remaining near me. The bulk of my family numbers are all stationed in the east region. Our leaders are all females. Black power princess. On my mother’s side and my father’s side it’s about 50/50 with minor exceptions. Hence the reason I am a nomadic soul….

Legazy.

I paid little thought to it as a child or in my young adult period. My indentity was and is still tied up in what I do and the teaching of how I treat others. I am a mixed bag of cultures and timeless urges to remember my ancesters and to forge my own path and to listen to wisdom from my elders who have earned my respect.

Now that I’m an old fuck I considered the time in rethinking on my tribal identity and skin history to be a fun exercise for my mind and food for thought for a moment and something to blog about.

Warm Regards

Guardiandogg