I had the honour of meeting Marilyn Brighteyes a few years ago at the Mannawanis Native Friendship Centre. I was covering a program there when I came across Marilyn, who talked at length about how she would hitchhike into town every day to draw on the strength of the program and find a way to get her life to where she wanted it to be. Right then, I realized I was meeting someone who had a quiet way that masked an incredible will.
Flash forward four years to last Tuesday, and I found myself hearing Marilyn Brighteyes’ story again at a circle at Blue Quills First Nations College. In a soft and matter-of-fact voice that commanded the entire room, Marilyn talked about the abuse and fear that dominated her childhood, of her alcoholic mother that, instead of being her protector, put her into harm’s way, into the life of drinking, drugs and prostitution that she led as a young girl.
She spoke of the difficulty of seeing her family all follow a path of destruction, and how hard it was to choose something better for herself. As hard as it was to get sober, it was worse to live with herself and the guilt of what she was doing to her children through her alcoholism, she said.
Beside Marilyn was a person whose face was filled with compassion - Sarah Kelly, whose mother was killed by Peter Brighteyes, Marilyn’s brother.
In the circle, Sarah talked about her pain in losing her mother. She talked about how she tried to find a way to force her anger at Peter away from her, but slowly came to the realization she needed to accept her anger, and find ways to express it, to let Peter closer to her instead of pushing him away from her. And so, she sought out Marilyn, his sister.
In the circle, there was pain, raw honesty and love. It affected every one of us in the room, because we could sense the power in Sarah and Marilyn’s story of forgiveness and healing.
It occurred to me that these two women came from two very different backgrounds, but shared knowledge that brought us all together in that moment – the knowledge that you can’t always control what happens to you, but that you can choose how you respond to these challenges; that you can’t force away the pain, hate, anger or terror that lives in you, but by tasting the bitter seed and looking it in the face, you can swallow it within you; that we are, none of us, separate from each other, that distinctions of “us” and “them” keep people in boxes and keep us from realizing how much better our worlds could be if we were only to listen each other’s truths, without reservation or judgment.
I consider myself fortunate, as a journalist, to hear the stories of people like Marilyn and Sarah; they have enriched my life. I hope I am able to convey the message I got from it, a message that is perhaps best summarized by this condensed quote from spiritual activist, author and lecturer Marianne Williamson.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same.”
People like Marilyn and Sarah show us how our choices define us. Choose to embrace that choice, who you are and how you feel. Choose to be great.
