You know, I kind of wonder about John Trudell at times, being a “word performance artist” and all….how much is word and how much is performance?
Trudell has become conjoined with the word energy, his “performances” liberally laced with references to it and how energy, whether positive or negative, defines a person – having honed his delivery he’s got a lot to say about it.
But he has a tendency to go about it like one of those fan dancers of burlesque fame, the fans are always moving but reveal only part of the story.
That’s the way I liken his approach to AIM’s murder victims, having been vocal and somewhat specific when it comes to the murder of Annie Mae Pictou Aquash the same can’t be said of Perry Ray Robinson jr. or those who lay in unmarked graves as a result of AIM’s rampage at WK2.
So how much is word and how much is performance?
A lot of people believe Trudell knows more than he’s saying, me included – now it could be he’s told the feds more than the public and been admonished that his celebrity ship could could very well sink if his lips get loose.
Or it could be having been all up in AIM Trudell believes some form of discretion is the better part of personal valor.
It could also be Trudell knows if he were to tell all there’s more than one person who would call him a fed and a snitch, and if that were to occur the “energy” quite possibly could negatively impact his career.
Ultimately though if he knows more but keeping it to himself I can’t help but wonder what kind of energy that produces – surely a negative one that impacts the survivors of AIM’s victim….being an “energy” expert it’s reasonable to assume he would be aware of that and it is a secondary consideration.
As the AIM leadership ages and individually ride their hobby horses off into the sunset tales are circulated that they are talking, making a clean breast of it so to speak – so far such rumors have been nothing more than tales and I expect that to continue being the case.
They’ve got resident plastic shaman grave keeping Leonard Crow Dog mumbling scripture from “paradise” that it’s all good because everybody is forgiven on the other side, and cling to that as though indisputable, a desperation born of guilt ,feeble unfounded hope, and unbridled ego.
If I were in their shoes I wouldn’t place all my eggs in the same basket by failing to admit that the process of being forgiven begins in this life,
you can’t wait until it’s over and then say, Oh yeah, by the way I’m sorry.
For all the talk of native pride and last real Indians no convenience exists when it comes to pride or honor, they are earned and observed by the recipient and practitioner.
Talking the talking doesn’t get it, and it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference how many fb “likes” a person may have, how many videos they upload, or how many words they speak.