I have a confession to make and I feel pretty damn vulnerable putting fingers to keys around it.
(No, I haven’t been watching The Bachelor.)
I spent almost two decades of my life wishing I were Native American. What’s more is that, for many of those years, I didn’t consciously recognize it. Essentially I just wanted to be of this culture as part of a tribe of a people and history that I looked up to.
Instead, I was born into a family of Latter Day Saints (Mormons) which traces back to my 4th or 5th Great Grandparents who lived near Joseph Smith and, upon his death, traveled with Brigham Young to Utah. While my family is amazing, the garments just never fit me and I’ve been searching, studying, and “trying on” different religions and different types of spirituality since I wore a retainer and a turtleneck with frogs smattered on it. Read more