Vocal Sound Therapy #10


So. Last weekend I went to one of my courses again. In a church in Copenhagen, 22 of us and our teacher. Friday she taught us how to use castor oil to purify the liver. Saturday we had our exam. 132 questions in 3 hours. Yet she said that if we couldn´t finish in that time, then we could take the paper home and send it to her once finished. Which luckily I didn´t have to do. I was well prepared, and it paid off. Nice to feel I had made an effort big enough to feel pleased about myself. And a nice feeling to see that I actually know and remember many central questions now, from our curriculum. I love to study. To learn.


silent and listen are spelt same letters

To listen. Is the major part of the education I´m doing. To listen for the resonance between a tone I make, and the body I´m “singing on”. And, apart from voicing the tone, be silent. Within, I mean. Empty of thoughts, focused on just listening, listening. And when the sound is right, to keep giving that sound to that particular place for a while. Very, very fascinating stuff.

(See my blogpost http://kaltwasser.dk/introducing-githa-ben-david/ for an impression of my teacher and the method that she teaches).

We also show people how to use their own voice to work through their emotions, and release old emotional wounds. During a treatment Saturday, suddenly more and more of us started to resonate with one of us, who was dealing with a trauma. I did too. So I found myself standing in the middle of the circle, together with 7 others, “cryingsinging”, expressing stuck emotions. Whilst each of us had a fellow student supporting us. And the rest of the group stood all around us and sang long tones together…
It lasted quite a while. It was mindblowing. I almost don´t have words for it. I feel like a different person after that. Liberated, uplifted. And with a whole group covering my back, so to speak.
Fills me with gratitude. This is such a big deal in my life.

openminded vibing along

At one point during the weekend, we sat in our usual circle and our teacher asked us to share our experiences with practicing vocal sound therapy, how we think it is going. One of us is having an amazingly high success rate treating tinnitus patients. An other is helping people be able to sleep better.
Yet an other gets all these women who want to “sing themselves free” from low self esteem and low self worth… Very interesting how patterns seem to develope.

When it became my turn, I told them how I still mainly treat people I know. (To grow into the role of therapist. My friends I can ask for feedback on all the aspects of a treatment). And that the only complete stranger I have had on my massage table until now, was a dying cancer patient, and how that meeting moved me deeply. (I described it in the blogpost http://kaltwasser.dk/crossed-over/

My teacher said that maybe I can use the therapy method to help dying people with their crossing over. That really got me thinking.

I have always read a lot about death and dying. It is a subject so close to my heart. (See my blogpost http://kaltwasser.dk/dealing-with-death-kubler-ross-jung-and-tolle/ for more on that) …

A fellow student approached me in the break, saying she had been thinking along the same lines, and let´s talk about it, maybe we could do something together. That to me, is very exciting. Everything new is so much easier to break into when one has a person to co operate with.

I just read on Facebook this morning that Wayne Dyer crossed over Saturday night. Age 75, just. I have many of his books, and a dvd or two as well. A very inspiring man. Who was looking forward to dying with excitement. I wish him a happy journey. Have a glimpse of him here:

Yeah…that weekend. So grateful.


Aabenraa International Culture Party


Last Saturday, we took the kids and drove 90 minutes to the town Aabenraa, to participate in an annual cultural event they have there, in a business school location, organized by 2-3 different ngos.

There was speeches by the local mayor and the Danish minister of taxes, first. After that came Jackie Pato, “Asia´s Tina Turner”, she had an incredible voice.

Not sure I can remember the stage acts cronologically, but. After a while, it was time for food and we went to the big international buffet they had made. Tickets to get in were cheap, kids came in for free, and the food was included in the ticket!!
The buffet had amazing dishes from African countries, the Phillipines, Syria… Delicious is the word.
A spectacular feast for the taste buds.

(Though the tickets were cheap and the food free, they still made an income at the party, which goes to helping school children in the Phillipines and in Africa).

syrian singer

Here is an impression of the space we were in… the crowd… this is where the Syrian singer went on stage, I can see.

But before the Syrians, there was the djembegroup LOKO drummers, from Benin, residing in Germany:

Very charming, and it got everybody´s dancing feet starting to get impatient… 🙂

Then on to the stage stepped this Syrian singer with his guitar. And all the Syrian refugees jumped up and started to dance…


(Ps I have fixed this video so it does not run sideways, I just need to fix the miniature image as well, I can see… ) 🙂

The party hit the roof. I joined the circle of Kurdistani folk dancing people, I know the steps from 1989-92, when I was the local leader of Sos Racism back on Karmøy, Norway, and I knew all the asylum seekers, and danced Kurdistani folk dance with them one christmas, wearing my Norwegian national costume whilst they wore the national costumes of Iraqi Kurdistan… Good memories….

My two daughters, 10 and 5 years old, danced with me in the circle, and a man asked if he could hold my son, and my son did not object, and was lifted up on the smiling man´s shoulders! Soon he got a big flag to wave up there as well… After a while my son was moved over onto an other man´s shoulders… a truely magical moment. Very moving, and funny, watching the baffled expression on my little son´s face up there in the air on dancing shoulders… 🙂

After the Syrian act, came a Danish duo. And the djembe trio went on stage and helped them keep the rhythm… Just so nice… Joining in, jamming together…

That´s my friend Ragnhild you see dancing there. She went on stage as well at some point, with her bellydancing, she always bellydances, she loves it so much. She also teaches bellydancing.
Well, this time, she was not allowed to keep the stage to herself. The guy she is dancing with, jumped on stage with her… so funny… and lovely…

Later on, there were beautiful Philippino women who did a dance with fans… I have found a sweet photo of them, that was also published in the local paper after the event…

aabenraa phillipinoes

Actually, the woman with blue on her dress, is the singer Jackie Pato, I told you about in the start of this blog…

outside party

A picture I took outside the school where the party was held…

two flags

Two flags side by side… two homelands… one fled from, the other fled to… I hope all the foreigners present at the party will have happy lives in Denmark.


Late night dancing… we left a quarter past eleven pm… kids all fell asleep in the car…

Yeah, it was a truely brilliant time.

If I can make it, I really want to go back there next year!


My parents´shoes


There is this feeling. That I get when I put clothes on in the morning and find myself wearing my mom´s cool cardigan that she let me inherit, the nice skater shoes that were too small for my sister, and jeans my soul sister girlfriend used to own… It makes me feel closer to them all in some peculiar way.


This is a painting of my “farfar”, father´s father. Whose house I grew up in, so I could actually climb the stairs up to his flat before I could walk! He was my daycare; when all the other adults in the house went to work, him and I hung out playing pirate ship underneath his frontroom table, playing Ludo with 12 dice (and I always won), picking plums and apples in the garden, mowing the lawn and weeding, taking naps on the sofa together, going out in his car to pick up grandma from her job in the telephone central…
He made me a doll´s house once, and stilts, and a wooden gun that could shoot rubber bands for real!
He was my superhero. With a capital S.

I also have an item of clothing after him, a dark blue and white knitted cardican that he wore a lot.
I have clothes after my dad as well, who left us in 2010. His red hand knitted woollen jumper that my mom made him, and the last pair of Ecco shoes that he bought for himself. I wear them for a month or two every autumn/spring.

Some weeks ago I was visiting my mother for Summer holiday, and I was in my car driving alone, whilst wearing a pair of expensive sneakers she´d just given me as it hurt her feet to wear them. Suddenly I had the urge to write these words on a scrap of paper:


My parents´ shoes are only
one small size too large for me
they fit me rather comfortably
both physically and metaphorically

I´d rather that their footsteps be
a size I can´t fill easily
an example to follow gratefully
to grow into step by step

glass refillable

With that poster I aim to move into saying that by no means were my parents perfect in my childhood. They were human, and they did the best they could. They have openly told me a bunch of times how they didn´t quite understand how to deal with me when I was little. I was just different to the other kids. I didn´t play in the sandbox, I watched as the others played… stuff like that.

My mother taught me to read age 4 and a half.
I read a lot ever since, and wrote short stories from age 5. (About how Santa cancelled xmas, for example, because the humans were too materialistic about it, all they wanted was new things).
They got me a piano. Which I played with a teacher for 6 years. So those were two very good things I am grateful for.

Although in some ways they were too strict,  too controlling and didn´t see my sensitivity or intentions…  they always meant well.  I don´t think there are many of us who don´t have issues we need to digest and forgive about our upbringing.
It´s a natural thing between parents and children, where one party has all the power and the other party is forced to obey… to say it in black and white, of course there are always many shades of gray in everything.

I told my dad on his deathbed. I thanked him for always trying his best for me.
I recognize his good intentions. He did really well in some ways, and less well in others. A man of his time and of his own life conditions. For example, he saw his own dad for the first time when he was 3 years old!
As his dad had been out to sea for that long. They did, back then, where I come from. Sailed to China, and Cuba, gone for years at a time… my mother´s dad was a sailor as well. Both were chefs on board their ships.

My parents had a traffic school that they ran together, and it was very successful. All the local 17-18-yearolds got their driver´s licences through them, and they always came and told me how wonderful my parents were. Caring and funny and helpful, both my dad in his car and my mom in their office. My dad touched a lot of people´s hearts whilst teaching them how to drive, to believe in their own abilities, to forgive themselves for making mistakes, to be relaxed yet alert at the same time…stuff you need to learn to master driving.
In his spare time when I was little, he started the first soccer team for girls in my hometown, and I played soccer there from age 8-16.

I´m very proud of them both.
And could tell you a lot more they did and do, that makes me love them so much.

I could also give a lot of examples of times I was hurt by their words or actions.

As  probably all of us can, about our parents.

I wonder how my kids will talk about their upbringing when they become grownups.
All I can do is to try my best for them. And hope that the wounds I cause, will be healable with the help of them knowing that I love them with all my heart.

broken men

Broken (wo-)men can be repaired. The glass is refillable. We develope and grow and change all the way thoughout our lifetimes.

The Japanese have this really nice concept in their thinking, look:


And with that, I finish this post. And wish you progress, in whatever area it is you are choosing to grow at the moment.

May the force be with you.  🙂


a State of Grace


cohen 60s Hydra

Leonard Cohen on Hydra in the 60s.


I Just found this old documentary about my favourite poet Leonard Cohen. Here he is in his younger years, interviewed and followed around. A really lovely film.

Here´s what´s written about it by the publisher on Youtube:

Publisert 17. jul. 2014
This informal black-and-white portrait of Leonard Cohen shows him at age 30 on a visit to his hometown of Montreal, where the poet, novelist and songwriter comes “to renew his neurotic affiliations.” He reads his poetry to an enthusiastic crowd, strolls the streets of the city, relaxes in this three-dollar-a-night hotel room and even takes a bath.

Directed by Donald Brittain & Don Owen – 1965

Cohen says in the film;

“A state of grace is that kind of balance with which you write (or right?) the chaos you find around you. It´s not a matter of resolving the chaos, because there´s something arrogant and war-like about putting the world in order. But having that kind of a… like an escape ski… run over a hill… just, going through the contours of”

And here he is interrupted by the journalist. Saying “You have lost ME…” Yeah… okay… it would still have been nice for the rest of us to get the chance to hear him out.

Oh well.

A state of grace. Balance. An angle to watch from?
A detached, non judging cruising on the surface of chaos?

Just a guess. But the concept intrigues me. A state of grace…

You can read more about my love for Leonard Cohen in my blogpost


The only other connotation I have to “a state of grace” is from my teacher in vocal sound therapy, Githa Ben-David. She has a song on her album “To heal the space between us” which goes:

“Gratitude is a grace,

it´s a phase,

that can appear,

when you sing a lullaby,

and all fears go to sleep,

disappear into a dream,

the voice of the soul sings…”


Sadly I can´t find the song on Youtube. It is a beautiful one indeed.

Now. I better go cook dinner. Just got so excited to find this documentary, I had to share it with you. 🙂

A state of grace.  Hmmm. Watch that space.



Fanø Forest Playground


The other day, we had a visitor for a few days, a lovely musician from Copenhagen, who also is a web designer. He helped me develope my blog site so it is more user friendly, and also more visible to search engines. Fantastic help to get! So grateful for that.

The sun was shining, and we decided to take him to see Fanø Skovlegeplads, which means Forest Playground.


By the entrance stands these trollies, that you can borrow for free while there. Saves you carrying all those picnic or bbq things. And tired children.
It´s free to enter. There are proper toilets, one can leace some coins if one wants to support the playground. It is run entirely by volunteers. Very impressive.

robin hood skulptur

There are many many of these sculptures around in the forest there. Made by a couple from Lithuania. Lots of different characters from children´s litterature. Snow white, the dwarfs, trolls… I didn´t take enough pictures, so I will have to tell you more about this playground some time later. They have also built a roof, over lots of picnic tables and 3-4 big barbecues. So that one can enjoy a barbecue if it rains… very handy.

skovlegepl hest

This horse is a rather new addition. It has 4 saddles on its back! … and hearts carved in its eyes…

L-F på en rot

My son on top of a root of a fallen tree. I love the way they have left the forest as it is, they have tidied areas and built benches and sculptures and sand boxes and swings, but the surrounding forest has been left untouched.


Very popular swing, that. For bigger children.

giraf gynge

I had to have a go myself, on this one.


Lots of different games to play…

croc bench

A crocodile bench… which needs to be shot close-up. With a camera, I mean. 🙂

Yeah… like I said, there would be at least 10 more photos needed to give a proper impression of this place. But let this just be an intro, and a reminder that if you do come to Fanø, you really should go visit Fanø Forest Playground.


Letting Go


To me, it is not so easy to let go.
Be it things or be it people, they hold value to me and so.
The luggage from the past continues to grow.
Making my dusting and tidying slow.

broken plate

This is a plate of mine, which I have had since I was little, 70s or 80s. Isn´t it cute?
My eldest daughter broke it on the kitchen floor yesterday. As happens. She wants to glue it back together. I said let´s just throw it away, this is what life does. It breaks things. Everything here is temporary, and with one old item gone, there is room for a new item, symbolizing the present moving into the future, rather than the memory of times bygone. New memories to be made.

We will see. She is crafty, my daughter. I have not thrown it away yet, will give her the chance to try and fix it. (Although glued I´m not sure it will be hygienic to eat from anymore… oh well. Probably I can throw it away in a week, after she has had a time limit and postponed past it).

She is a lot like myself, my eldest daughter. Sees opportunities and meaning in everything. Anything can be used in many ways. Give her a piece of bubble wrap and she makes a dress and a pair of shoes out of it in half an hour! 🙂 (That example actually did happen).

In the bathrooom we have her drawings on the walls. Actually her drawings are all over the house. As she is really talented! Her choice of colours… her drawing style… way beyond any level I will ever reach.

But our house is little, and wall space is scarce, so we actually need to put up shelves where we can. We are five people after all.

This art piece of hers has been hanging in the bathroom for a year or so.

skovmonster total

Its title is “Forest Monster”. I adore it.
But of late, it has lost two pins holding it up, and so today I decided to take it down. That piece of wall would be great for a shelf, for all her newly aquired make-up. Which it would be nice to keep out of reach of the 5 – and especially the 3- yearold.

I took her art piece outside in the yard and photographed it. I ended up taking pics of the details as well.
I think they could make nice backgrounds for a poem. As well as visual pieces for a video poem…

skovmonster detalje 1

Haha, I so love the way she has used the yarn…

skovmonster detalje 2

The butterfly up there…. makes me believe that the elastic band next to it, is a horse fly…
(Have to ask her, though. Not sure my interpretation matches her intention. Then again, such is art. Its meaning is up to both the maker and the receiver, I think art is better when it gives the “reader” space, for his/her own interpretation of its meaning…)

skovmonster detalje 3

Love the horizontal feather.
Love feathers in general. Symbolizing both flight, air, thought and writing. To me.

A third item I will try to let go of, is this beautiful lady here. Who my father´s father brought home from one of his many long trips at sea. From Cuba 1950 possibly. She used to hang on the wall in their hallway, I grew up downstairs from them so she has fascinated me since I could crawl up the stairs, she was somehow greeting me on arrival, next to the copper key cupboard with a raindeer on it. (Which yes of course, I have held on to that as well, it´s keeping our keys safe in our hallway as we speak…)!


Isn´t she lovely… to say it with that nice tune from Stevie Wonder…


Alas, she is broken. Made of plaster. Part of the palm tree trunk is missing. And the piece with her water jar, is loose, I just lay it carefully next to her for the photo…

Me I´m not a very practical person. Or I would just glue her, paint her… Maybe I can give her to an artist friend of mine. I have several of them, who may want to spend time and love on her.
I don´t even have a wall to hang her on if she wasn´t broken, though.

Can you hear how hard this is for me? To let her go?
She is valuable to me. Carries memories of my deep love for my grandparents, who now both have departed.
I thought these photos could allow me to throw the object itself away, now I have captured her spirit so to speak, in the picture. But I think I will have to talk to my artist friends and see if someone can use her in some way. She is far too beautiful to end her days in a dumpster.


This next item, I have already let go of. I gave it to a friend´s daughter for her birthday.


It´s a skirt that Viola found in a fancy store in Chantabury in Thailand, March 2013, she was almost 3.
She fell in love with this skirt, I think it was the most expensive thing we bought on our whole 8 week long trip! Hahaha…. She has always been so decisive about what she wants to wear and not. Much different from her older sister Lava, who would just wear what I suggested, until age 5-6-7 somewhere.

(I remember taking Viola to find a new dress for christmas, later that same year. She was in no doubt whatsoever, just picked the dress straight away and to all the alternatives I presented, she just shook her head. Then she found the shoes. And in 5 minutes she had chosen the shoes she wanted. No hesitation. Amazing to see). 🙂


The inside of the garment. So well made. I almost regret having given it away. But hey.
I already have a chest full of baby clothes that I could not get rid of as they grew out of it. That I will give to grand children some day. I can NOT house much more of that stuff!
Also because I have in store inherited clothes for all three of them. I save a lot of money that way, and I save hurting the planet as well. An ecological as well as an economical consideration.
But it takes up a lot of room. That we basically don´t really have. So. Yeah. It is a nice skirt and it holds a wonderful memory, and now we can remember it when we see the picture. Basta! 🙂

Of course it is also nice to know it will make another little girl we love, happy, wearing it.

Here is one more thing leaving our house these days:


It is a picture Lava has made. Well. She made the palm leaves and had not finished Jesus on the donkey.
And then she was at home ill the day they were to finish their pictures, so a class mate was told by the teacher to finish Lava´s. How stupid is that?! Who would want an other person to finish their picture?!

I have held on to it because I think it is such a clever idea to paint the scene from bird perspective, as we call it in Norwegian… to see something from above…
But it will leave us now. Lava hates the look of Jesus and the donkey, and I have to agree it isn´t… Well, it could certainly look better.


This picture I took last time we visited my mother-inlaw´s grave.
“In the heart kept, never forgotten.”
It was herself that chose the stone and the words, back when her husband Paul Walter died in October 2007. She also made sure there was a little vase in the corner of the stone, just big enough for a small bouquet of wild flowers. Or the kind of pot that we always buy in the same shop on the way there, these days.

She died 30.of September last year. Suddenly and shockingly. We miss her a lot. But grieving luckily changes form and content as time passes. We cry a lot less now. It will make her happy to see that.


One day each one of us will leave it all behind. All material things. Every gathered item and photo.
Take with us only what we have stored in our consciousness. And move on into the life between lives.

Let me finish up by sharing my favourite Leonard Cohen song.
The video is a bit odd, but. Nothing I directly object to in it, so. Let´s enjoy the interpreting of the added meaning.

This song is for you Ellen Leonhardt, my dear sweet wise mother-inlaw. I don´t think I got to play this one for you. I´m pretty sure you like it. 🙂


A typical Fanø SummerParty


Just want to share this video with you, basically. That I shot on the eve of 20.of June this Summer, in my SoulBrother Benjamin´s garden, at his garden party. We had heavy rain showers, but kept spirits high and the barbecue glowing. The tuba had to give in, though. Not too good for it with all that moisture.

It was a sweet evening. The Wadden Sea Heroes played as they do so often around our little town. And the rest of us joined in on the singing and table drumming. As usual. Good fun.

The Ukrainian flag is there because Benjamin´s previous room mate was visiting from Ukraina, where he now resides, very happily.

Here´s the vid:


Fanø Street Theatre Festival


Each and every August, on Fanø where I live there is the Street Theatre Festival. For three days, everybody can come and watch a play for free,  on benches set up in the town square, on the parkinglot outside the museum and in the school yard. This year we managed to see all the 4 plays. We always attend if we are home, and it is a true treat for us, parents and kids alike.

Here is a clip from the play Thursday evening:

It was the finishing song of a play about three cowboys and a woman who outsmarts them. Pretty clever scenography, where there were doors in the wall / the backdrop of a prarie graveyard… and things were transformed behind that wall, from a cable to a lasso, for example, and from shovels to guns… some surreal elements as well, which I enjoyed more than the slapstick. And the kids loved the farting jokes more than anything else. Of course. 🙂


The next morning we went to see two clowns. I have sadly forgotten their names. They were really great.
My kids´kindergarten were there too, to see it…





Later that Friday, we saw Martha from Spain:



Here is my husband, helping her out! He is always picked to come up on stage  to the artists for some reason. I think they recognize he is one of their kind… 🙂


Saturday lunchtime, we watched the last play, by the group “Burning Love” (Brændende Kærlighed, Danish group), and it was an excellent script as well as wonderful acting. About a young woman who has a check list of things she needs to accomplish. “Checkmark”, the play is called.


Here her parents are feeding an education down her brain! Hahaha… what an idea…


And here I caught a whole little scene. The selfie-addicted young lady got herself some donor sperm (from a guy in the audience, hehehe…) and suddenly she had twins… Hillarious, this.

I feel so blessed whenever I sit down on those benches to be entertained. It is always very well visited, and always funny or inspiring. Looking forward to Fanø Street Theatre Festival again next summer, and hope it will happen in sparkling sunshine like it did this lucky year.

(Ps, thank you, Helle Broe, for lending me your phone to film with, and for letting me copy some of your photographs. So much appreciated, both that, and you sweet festival company. 🙂 )


UN´s International Day of Indigenous peoples


indigenous Peoples

Just fell over this poster in my Facebook scroll. (modern slang for a virtual stroll… 🙂 …)

Indigenous poeples. Having studied social anthropology, I know a bit about the gifts and the struggles of indigenous peoples. Also, I have ancestors who were Kven. Finnish sami / lapps / raindeer nomads.
Apparently they were not ranking very high in the social hierarchy. But they were famous for their psychic abilities… I am proud to have Kven in my blood. I am proud of any blood. I don´t believe some peoples are better than other peoples. To me, every “group” or “nation” is equal. Every being is.

I have just sat outside in my ListeningHut (see blogpost with same title for more info), playing an old minidisc copied from the library, titled “voices of a forgotten world”. So I searched on Youtube now, hoping to find something under that title. Well, the only thing sounding like my minidisc, is this one:

Found this too… 6 minutes of information about the indigenous people of Taiwan…
I find it a good way of spreading information.

Here´s a Nuer, telling his story… I feel it is silly how they have put the Spanish voice-over so loud that I can not hear the English he speaks, properly. But it is beautifully filmed, this. Very poetic, visual language. And watched by over 4 million people!

This is my favourite people that I “met” during my studying anthropological ethnographic reports in uni in the 90s.
The !Kung San people in the Kalahari desert, Namibia, south west coast of Africa.
I remember reading about how a lady of the tribe had several lovers if she wanted to, and her main man would perhaps hit her out of jealousy, but then she would just leave him. Also, if a child had conflicts with its parents, he or she would go and live with someone else in the village if he/she felt like it…
Something about individual freedom, eh?

Also, I read that when the !Kung San members are angry, they sing out their frustration, making a song about why they are angry… singing it to the others… how very civilized…

This seems like a good, equal documentary piece of film… ?

Here is one wise woman. The video is a mix of her talking and her singing. She is the spokeswoman of Norwegian Saami culture, and the most famous saami musician I know of. Very conscious. Imagine, the priests teaching the indigenous people their traditional music is “from the devil”…! How evil the church has behaved, so many times in history. Also in recent history.

I have been to concerts with her 3-4 times. And I will go again when I get the chance. In her band she has Africans, Latin Americans… she is a wonderful front person for the understanding of indigenous cultures´ rights.

So many tribes, group, nations. American Indians, Australian aboriginals, Yanomamö in the Amazon, Kwaio in Polynesia… Naskapi escimos in Alaska… You know, they are our roots… for all of us… we all descend from indigenous nations… How come we don´t listen to them, preserve what we can of their artifacts and know-hows, protect them so they keep their land and customs in the meeting with our ever expanding destructive “civilization”…?

Because private companies are allowed to do whatever they want, for the gain of private profit.
In retrospect, we will ask ourselves how this was ever allowed to be that way.
Dragging Indians out of the rain forests to cut down their trees to make money for a company.
Why is this not a crime?? It is!!

Here is a song by my hero number one in my life. The musician that woke me up to political consciousness when I was 12 years old. This is a very moving and strong song about the struggles and injustice done to the natives of the continent of North America. Listen to this. The story of this man Leonard Peltier.

This is how our messages of native indigenous fights should be communicated.
In my humble view.
Little Steven in general, he has so many good songs. Called “Solidarity”, ” I am a patriot”, “Checkpoint Charlie”, “Bitter fruit”, “Sun City”… He is one of the main human rights spokesmen of our time.