We are all Indigenous

We are all Indigenous

Once upon a time we were all connected to and totally reliant upon the land and nature. Then the Industrial Revolution happened. We were “freed” from relying upon animal power or the vagaries of the wind and water that drove windmills and water powered mills. But, that freedom has had a much higher price than we ever imagined. We not only lost our connection to Nature, and the innate understanding that we are totally reliant upon the natural world, but simultaneously we lost the connections between each other. Now every human is an island. Loneliness, divorce, addictions of all kinds, and hopelessness are rampant while and the hardest thing to measure of all – the simple joy of being alive – is in short supply. What are we to do?

I cannot tell you what to do, but I can share what I am doing. Fifteen years ago, when I started to focus my energies on helping to protect the non-human world, I became a Third Order Franciscan. That means that follow in the footsteps of St.Francis, the first person on European civilization to explicitly state that taking care of “each other” includes ALL creation – human, plant, animal as well as the soil and water that all life requires to live. The Franciscan organization I belong to [www.tssf.org ]  has organized an on line conference entitled “Walk with Us”. It is based developing a soul level awareness of how far we have, as a culture, strayed from our indigenous roots so that we can then connect with the indigenous cultures that still survive. Then, we can learn with them to take care of each and creation and thus avoid the MAD – mutually assured destruction – that we are inflicting upon creation and ourselves.  What we have lost – a connection to reality that “I” and all peoples and the land/waters are one – can be found once more. The approach of the conference is based upon this idea:

Don’t walk behind me, I may not lead

Don’t walk ahead of me, I may not follow

Walk beside me, for then we are one.                       –   Ute Saying  [ a tribe from Utah, USA]

Now as the conference just started yesterday I have not much to report. Stay tuned for my summary in 3 weeks, however I do have some ideas based upon other experiences that can begin our journey together.

Have you ever been to a pow wow? I strongly recommend it. My favourite was right on Lake Superior, at the Pic River Nation pow wow ,which is located right beside Pukaskwa National park – a jewel of the CDN. Park system that is a must visit. Much of the time in a pow wow is spent dancing. Everybody dances. 3 year olds. 90 year olds. Men, women, boys and girls. What is so striking is that everybody’s outfit is unique. In most cultures there is a traditional dress or shirt that everybody wears and they are basically identical, as you can see below. With indigenous cultures everybody’s outfit must reflect their unique family, clan, tribe, work, personality, etc. Thus, as you can see above, no two dresses are alike. No two men’s shirts and head dress are the same. All outfits are unique, in colour combination and pattern, because every person is unique. That was made clear to me at this pow wow when my wife and I talked at great length with a lady in a beautiful “jingle dress” [it is covered with little bells that jingle when she moved] that reflected her career as a member of the police force and member of the bear clan and other parts of her personal history – the dress tells HER story.

Here is another story, based upon a fishing trip I did 6 years ago north of Elliott Lake. First, here is the idea behind the story. The most vital part of being Indigenous is living your life with and being part of the land. That sense of belonging permeates all your relationships. Your relationship with the land, the plant & animals, and of course with other people. There is really no “other” because all life, human and non-human, belong to the land. This means you always belong. You are never alone. That means, of course, is that being Indigenous means moving is a traumatic event. Yes, it is sometimes necessary, but it is always a sad event. It is like ripping a plant out by its roots and replanting it elsewhere – it may be necessary, but is always a brutal act. In my family both my father and mother and their parents were ripped from their native soils by the horrors of WWII.  They recovered, sort of.   But both my grandmothers never did. There was an existential sadness in their eyes that even today pierces deep into my soul. Now for the story. You need to know that Elliot Lake started as  Uranium mining town founded in the 1950s, although now it is a retirement town as there there is no more uranium to mine. While at the fishing lodge I read a book of the history of Elliott Lake put together by some high school students for their Year Book in the 1990s.

When uranium was discovered near Elliot Lake a representative from a large mining company went to the local Tribal Chief to tell him the good news that jobs and wealth and progress were coming to this land. The Chief listened patiently and then replied with this tale:

“A long time ago white men paddled here and looked around.  He saw a land rich in beavers and fox, a land with golden eagles flying high, a land with trees that almost reached the sky, a land where the fish were so plentiful they seemed to jump onto your fishing hooks. He looked with envy upon this wealth and said to me ancestors:  “We can make a lot of money here.  Trap the wild animals for me and I will give you great wealth” And so it was that were ensnared by this lie and killed the wild animals that were our brothers. Then, when there were no more beavers and no more foxes the white men left.  But we remained.  A while later more white men came in a large boat to our land and said to us: “We can make a lot of money here. Look at these huge and majestic whites. If we chop them do we will be rich.” So the white men came and built a lumber mill and chopped all the majestic white pines down. And then they left. But we remained.  A few years passed and more white men came in a motor powered boat and said to us: “We can make a lot of money here. Look at all these little trees. If we chop them down to make paper we will be rich.” So the white men came and built a pulp and paper mill and chopped down all the little trees. And then they left. But we remained.  And now  you tell you tell us that the white men want even the rocks of our land! What will be left when they are all gone.  All that we know is that when the rocks are gone, the white men will leave but we will remain.

So, what can you do? Do what this cute, but truth filled, poster says. Be content where you are. Get to know your neighbours. Find beauty in your backyard.  Appreciate and get to know your town.  Share your blessings with other. Let the dirt in your garden slip through your dirty fingers as you plant flowers or trees or vegetables as you inhale the smell of dirt – the dirt from which you are made, the dirt to which you will return.