-URS November 13, 2012
Dear Ones, so many of you from all over knew—or heard about—-our brother Kirtan ManWoman. He was an active engaged part of the Dance and Sufi Communities in Cranbrook, BC as well as Nelson, Spokane, Inland Camp, Northwest Camp and beyond. He was an instrument of the divine in retrieving the sacred swastika from its attempted hijacking. On a recent trip to India he was revered for his tattoes, as those who have seen him can imagine. He was widely known as well for his art and poetry. He was a husband, father of four, grandfather, member of the Warriors, tattoo artist. And he was very very funny. He will be missed.
ManWoman was at Northwest Camp and then Koolaree camp this summer and was planning on being part of the Memorial Service for Becky Kemery in late September in North Idaho, but he felt fatigued. Several weeks later he was diagnosed and put in Hospice Care. He was so moved by the steady flow of friends from so many years and so many places, he said “it’s like having the Memorial before you die!”. He knew and was grateful for prayers, love and support. He didn’t much tolerate flowery language or churchified thinking (but he adored our dear Catholic sister, Mariam, to whom he dedicated a poem about “words”). The last poem of his that I heard was read at Dances, entitled “Death is WARM”……saying no one ever tells us that or we’d be throwing ourselves out of buildings and into bodies of water.
So—-YOU GO, Manny ManWoman, Kirtan Manny Jack Lightning (his Facebook name), go to that warm and loving and spirited place where everyone wears gold clothes and gold Crocs!
Much love, Quan Yin
Well, our blessed brother has leapt back into the mystery from whence he came. Again and again, with words, images and silence Manny extended a “ticket to be outrageous,” often freeing those encountering him in ways unknown to them, or even to him.
I often revisit the story of his “spiritual awakening,” finding courage in his facing the crumbling of his false self in response to the compelling sacred light calling forth his deepest self. A natural dervish doorway to “the real,” Manny’s life demonstrated a sincere response to God’s call.
In the last weeks my heart has been so much with Astarte and Manny, and Manny’s cousin Patsy Wahita. Many visions of Manny were coming to me…him in his yellow, in the dance circle, with little murmurs of comments on this or that. His poetry readings at Koolaree, with his yellow cap and flowing gold-tinged hair in the dim light. I can hear his voice, his laughter, and see those yellow crocs and imagine his grace in passing beyond. He leaves a strong imprint on my heart and my love goes out to all who have been close to him. Alhamdulillah!
Oh Manny. You were so sun. So yellow and glowing and strong and tender. Outrageous and surprising but welcoming and Funny. You join the unseen in our circle now. I know you will whisper in our ears and trick us into seeing you in the shadows, hearing your laugh in the ethers.
I will see you there my brother.
Cordi
Astarte, I hold you.
“A fellow in yellow with poems in his pockets”
One is fortunate in this life to meet a person who is creative, courageous, outrageous and caring. Such a person was our ManWoman.
When he woke up to his artistic and spiritual soul calling, he plunged in for all that he was worth. He discovered the disservice that the Nazis had done to a sacred symbol, the Swastika. Part of his life mission was to recover that symbol’s honor by both thoroughly researching its diversity in our Earths spiritual traditions and embodying it in a massive array of tattoos on his body.
He suffered neither fools or bullshit. He mentored many men in their own awakening. He spoke with clarity, originality and, especially, passion.
Our thanks and prayers go to his loved ones and caregivers. Many loved him and will miss him. Ya Salaam, brother.
ManWoman was an entirely unique individual…ah, so hard to write this in the past tense. He was a man with big passion, big heart, a demand for authenticity and honesty, and a few rough edges to buff and polish those of us who knew and loved him. His paintings reveal the two worlds he lived in – one with bright colors and definite edges, the other with blends and flows of energy and light. His poetry- powerful, insightful, uncompromising, always full of love. His pockets were always loaded with his artistry, which he would share at the drop of a hat. He was generous and warm, critical and outspoken about anything that had the ring of falseness. You don’t meet people like him often. He will be deeply missed by those of us who danced and sang and laughed and cried with him.
Whenever I say, “Manny” I want to say “Manny and Astarte” for they were a most inspiring pair with their great love for and constant support for each other. They have been so lucky to have shared so many years together – both becoming more of who they are as a result. My heart goes out to Astarte in this moment of deep grieving and I thank her over and over for loving this man, this ManWoman, so completely that he could the best that he could be and so that he could be a happy man.
All Love!
My memories of ManWoman go back to the 70’s when I first met him through his “popcorn communion’ – consciousness bursting forth – and his gathering of pubic hairs from willing donors to flavor the right sound for 2 mandolins he was creating. Always outrageous and right on! To become reconnected through the Dances at Kootenay Dance Camp was a surprise and delight.
Deeply I have held him & Astarte in the past weeks. I clearly see him now – in yellow and in joy! Lucky to have known him.
I’m Manny’s cousin, though we were closer than the word implies, I feel more like we were brother & sister. I miss him and will go on missing him until we are sharing our hearts and thoughts once more. I loved how loyal and affectionate you were and I thank you deeply for my fond childhood memories of our times together. I’ve no bad memories at all and we did get into some mischief.
Love now and beyond xxoo
Wow. I actually met “ManWoman” (the only of his names I heard that night) once – at an art gallery show in Phoenix – LONG before I had heard anything about the Dances of Universal Peace. I will never forget, and have sometimes shared, the one thing I remember him explaining in the brief moment I stood before him: about the tattoo on his forehead, he said: “It weeds out the people I don’t want to talk to anyway.” Live on, ManWoman! And thank you. May the swastika be known only for the auspicious symbol it continues to be.