DIALOGUE

Our April circle opened with a short activity appreciating Tyson Yunkaporta’s Sand Talk teachings of symbol-making as a way to bring together our “dissimilar minds.” Interestingly, assembling themes together now after some time has passed, I’m discovering that Yunkaporta’s next book Right Story: Wrong Story opens and continues with canoe stories, an association that came up throughout our dialogue, and in the resulting art piece above. We also opened by being treated to captivating marine storytelling of one circle participant’s family surviving tense moments in pirate waters, which they did through dialogue, strategy and prioritization, then sober assessment once the threat had passed.

Alongside these dramatic narratives, we talked about skills and strengths developed in other emergencies or high-risk situations, and how seeking patterns and implementing systems is beneficial for quick problem-solving. This was a shift in approach from other conversations, since we generally find greater inspiration in more generative and dynamic processes, with the hope that grassroots problem-solving is gaining momentum counter to the mechanistic status quo. We spoke briefly of the Moosehide campaign as one such grassroots initiative, with its growing profile in our communities demonstrating a new commitment to women’s safety and Indigenous women, children and gender diverse people’s safety in particular. One person in the circle queried that although so many arising initiatives “feel good and right,” there is also a “struggle with time,” questioning if transformation is happening quickly enough. Perhaps crisis-oriented quick responses are indeed needed in such realms as climate action. When someone added that we should “travel at the speed of love,” we returned to the school system as we often do, reflecting that there is rarely enough time for the gentleness that many learners seem to really need in the times we are in. Our circle enacts taking the time for gentleness, which hopefully allows each of us to also find the time to do so for others in our various roles and spaces.

A memorable connection also came through learning about and appreciating jellyfish – from the crisis-connected symbolism to be found in their way of moving backwards to go forward, to their sensitivity and integration with the environment. Circling back to the Australia Aboriginal context we opened with, jellyfish teachings brought from this web page acknowledge the spiritual significance of jellyfish, evoking “adaptability, resilience, and transformation.” We are also reminded to heed boundaries, value cleansing and purifying, and preserve the ecosystem balance needed for this delicate species to thrive.

In addition to all this richness, there was a moment that brought great purpose to the work we are doing together. Noticing that sharing our stories with others allows them to carry the teachings to others, we also noted that we can give and receive support when someone needs their own stories returned to them as medicine in a time of crisis or confusion.

For this month’s circle, another co-planned session, our starting point was extending from a recent youth collaboration with the theme of movement and stillness. Broadening the scale, we thought of travelling and staying, also connecting to the many March holidays underway with school breaks, and sending out our best hopes for safe return. For the opening activity, we wrote a short post card to someone or to ourselves connected to memories of travelling or visiting that hadn’t gone as well as we’d hoped. We talked about things that can’t be re-framed, such as grief in losing close loved ones, as well as re-framing as a radical possibility for even the most entrenched thinking coming out in our times.

We also thought about travel from the perspective of digital or remote connections, as well as the importance of dream space, as one group member had been recently contemplating through the work of Toko-Pa Turner. In addition to dreams, and allowing time for intentional movement and stillness and even intentional boredom, we spoke about art-making and creativity as a space of dream travel. With a few powerful stories, we were called to contemplate faith, in examples of like-minded people finding one another across the globe against all odds, and healing journeys that may be long, but mysteriously guide you to the the right place when you are ready.

Considering the ethics of travel, we talked about times we have chosen not to travel because it uses fossil fuels, and others when we regretted not taking part in something that was very meaningful to loved ones. Concluding that everything is conflicted, and activism can easily be pushed to burnout, re-framing can sometimes serve our well-being, and others can detract from making clear decisions aligned with our intuition. Although it didn’t really form part of our conversation, the art at the top of the post includes honouring salmon’s travels across thousands of miles when they are unimpeded, which reminds us that making journeys home is natural, and we have a role to play in stewardship so that natural travel across lands and waters can be restored. Our own travels can also be one more way to see ourselves in connection with the seasons and cycles of our lives and the Earth.

To tune into the time set aside for Trickster and Coyote-themed conversation, a few of us began the hour with a brief inversion, recognizing that gravity feels very strong from the upside-down view. Others thought about order and chaos in their spaces, seeing that bringing order is a way of building a sense of calm and belonging. Recognizing that there is a lot of painful chaos happening in the world, we made the choice to not dwell there this time, instead seeking instances of what we thought of as “productive chaos,” and noticing that there are also occasions in which we can offer a place of order when someone is experiencing painful chaos.

There were many pre-planned and additional dimensions of Trickster and Coyote that emerged, leaving the impression that like many of our decolonizing topics, it’s just a cursory view to great depth of possibility. Since our conversations have often returned to stories and teachings of care-giving relatives it was a welcome difference to think about those in our lives who bring playfulness and optimism, irreverently shifting things when we are taking ourselves too seriously. One person shared that the humility that accompanies laughter is a welcome shift. Taking a moment to be imperfect is good; it’s okay to not have it all together. Another had received teachings at the school that day from someone of Splatsin First Nation: with so much in life you can “either laugh or cry,” so we should try to laugh. Coyote or Trickster’s laughter is indeed valuable to shift the mood or adjust focus in a conflict. Meaningfully, one person shared that “the part of me that’s playful is the part that makes life worth living.” For all these reasons and more, we can’t neglect Trickster’s view of things.

Another Coyote interpretation came when we spoke about the view that he is sometimes seen as lazy and selfish, asking whether there was a strength-based view to understand inaction within. The idea of laziness as a state of rest that “softens the edges,” was offered as a remedy to the instinct to harden when we encounter difficulties. In a hilarious extension of the ides of softening, we contrasted the idea of being a leader that is more like a sieve than a sponge, meaning that important things are kept as the emotionalism is released, rather than internalizing everything everyone gives you. And yet, we should remain curious, and be open to the playful curiosity that the more Trickster-tuned among us bring, since the creative or irreverent flipping of expectations and social norms can open that which is closed.

We ended our conversation also appreciating the model Coyote the animal provides in how resilient he is; omnivorous and adaptable, sustaining himself with anything from fruit to meat, and moving freely between natural and urban environments. For those among our group, or others who might want to go to greater depth with Coyote as a spiritual presence, a few resources that have helped bring some perspective are this tribute from Secwepemc culture, as well a global mythology perspective articulated on the Emerald podcast. As a partner to the Decolonization is not a Metaphor article we looked at recently, the inspiring writing offered by Cutcha Risling Baldy called Coyote is not a metaphor: On decolonizing, (re)claiming and (re)naming “Coyote,” as well as recent work by one of my mentors, Aubrey Hanson, titled Writing as Resurgent Presencing: An Urban Coyote Curriculum. Lastly, for the art-interested among us, the amazing Coyote-driven work by artist Julia Buffalohead will certainly bring inspiration. A particular piece, titled White Savior Complex was served up by one of my social media feeds, which pointed me, playfully, in important reflection directions.   

For a few minutes I thought I had accidentally recycled my notes from our North-themed January meeting. It felt meaningful to lose the North, like losing my way, like losing winter. At times it has felt like winter never really arrived, I am indeed disoriented as snow disappears in rainstorms that go high up the mountain, when we’d normally be receiving mounds of the white stuff. But all is relative, and that was a major theme of our conversation. Our imaginations of the North are each influenced by the experiences we’ve had as individuals, but expanded by each others stories.

We honoured glimpses of Northern history and experience provided by Sheila Watt-Cloutier’s Right to be Cold, grieving how quickly traditional ways were overtaken, with colonialism forcing such vast change within one lifetime. One person shared about Tanya Tagaq’s Split Tooth, and the learning it brought regarding deep reverence for aspects of life we so easily take for granted. We celebrated the memory of witnessing PIQSIQ perform in Nelson, imagining how the art form developed with joy and connection, supported by the land and the intimate family lifestyle it fosters in the dark and cold.

Even as we thought about the darkness, we were reminded of balance with the light, as it seemed like a good thing to do to have a storytime interlude with the The Origin of Day and Night, a beautifully designed children’s book by Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt, illustrated by Lenny Lishchenko. On the topic of balance, one participant shared a story from being present while The Snotty Nosed Rez Kids taught high school students that although music helped them get through hard times and figure out who they are, but emphasized that their “best creations have come through joy.” So we leaned into joy, and we dwelt in laughter, and there was plenty.

Thank you to Anna for another beautiful artistic memory and artifact to add visual presence to this post. Thank you to everyone for all the gems of wisdom as always. I’m recording here, because it might not be recorded anywhere else, that one of the magical properties of ice is that it allows us to “smell back in time,” since it captures some of the air that was with it as it froze. I love the wide-wandering delights of our unpredictable conversations!

In gratitude for another beautiful conversation with thoughtful people sharing generous life teachings, this post leaves a small trace for us to follow to the next time we will connect. Although the starting point was to welcome scattered people, ideas and focus as we were each reflecting on big years coming to an end and new ones beginning, it was the group priority to spend more attention toward stringing together strength. We received beautiful stories of women teaching next generations to knit, and an elder relative who was skilled in the fine hand work of repairing silk stockings. Priorities such as staying open for change, regulating our nervous systems, and connecting with the living world were shared as responses to our times where many people clearly aren’t coping.

Considering the emergent and profound question that arose from the group “can we be settled in an unsettled world, to do unsettling work?” there were opposing viewpoints that found equal and instructive expression. Where one person spoke from personal experience of feeling optimistic that a more expansive and less exploitative reality is unfolding, another voiced that a transformed worldview may not be the ultimate result of decolonization since there appears to be no movement toward policy changes that will benefit the next seven generations. As we closed in discussion about hopes and fears that come up imagining the “social idea of everyone having enough to be, without being controlled,” we agreed that artists will play a big role in that transformation.

The only reading recommendation made was the important article “Decolonization is not a metaphor” by Tuck & Yang, 2012, which some of the group had not heard of. It will likely come up again in future conversations.

The collaborative art piece pictured above was made among our group soon after the meeting. It shares its own strength-driven presence with wings, muscles, and connective tissue emerge from fluid warmth, which is further warmed by a persistent winter sun. The scattering that is present feels like the joyful dispersal of small seeds of potential, spreading hope and kindness in reciprocity. There is an impression of depth, as in roots and connection, which is the ground from which propulsive momentum is emerging. What better way to begin a new year — together, connected, creative.

Our conversation was quieter than many gatherings, but was still as wide-ranging as ever. As we extended from the starting point of a mid-point reflection in our June to June commitment to gather, I began by sharing that I had come across the term heterarchical mentorship as an apt description of what we are doing. Others appreciated our circle as a space to be with whatever is coming up, a place for story, to listen and be heard, share emotions, ask important questions and heal ruptures. For future ideas, we explored co-planning possibilities, the hope for sharing book recommendations, and seeing our group as a space to convene listeners for “confounding issues” coming up in decolonizing practice.

We also revisited definitions of decolonization, since it is such an abstract and academic term which benefits from interfacing with experiential reality. My favourite definition that emerged was “decolonization is allowing the connection between everything to exist… it’s like believing in magic.” This brought a podcast recommendation for On Being with Krista Tippett speaking with James Bridle about the intelligence of the more-than-human world, and such innovations as “queering the internet through non-binary code.” We also spoke about our love for Tyson Yunkaporta’s book Sand Talk, which brings infinite angles and adventures regarding decolonization.

We also book-ended our conversation with reminders that time in nature is always healthy, and helps us to hold love, grief and responsibility relative to protecting the land and water. We aired frustration about oil and gas lobbyists having a very prominent presence at the COP summit underway at the time. Grief came up about the ongoing tragedy of Site C going ahead despite all opposition, and we received the sobering reminder to protect the water here that is still “wild and loud,” since “all the water in Europe is restrained.” We also held and valued the memory of community coming together with determination over years to protect Cottonwood Lake park and recreation area. When collective action brings success as in that case, it also feels like magic to believe in.

The light was fading, and we had started from a place of acknowledging global suffering. Our consideration of dualities led to many group insights – as a pull between certainty and uncertainty, towards and away from equilibrium, “there are as many ways to view a problem as there are people in the circle.” We talked about grief, and trauma as ghosts as taught by Piikani Elder Reg Crowshoe. I also pointed toward the colonial shadow learning offered by Dr. Rosa Morales and her social media channels. All this was to consider what we may be carrying or interacting with that is beyond our conscious awareness. Some practical advice that emerged was to “lean thoughtfully into skepticism” when needed, as well as the reminder that we are doing this work within the responsibility of being future ancestors to those who come after us.

Within these heavy reflections, we were reminded of the importance of grace, and to welcome emotions whenever and wherever they arrive. The balance that came in was through stories and reverie with whales, and specifically protective maternal whales, and kinship between the lives and presence of whale mothers and human mothers. To spend some time with the cultural presence of whales, the NFB animated film Sgaana was recommended, as well as the book Grayson, by Lynne Cox. To witness whale grief in the world, a For the Wild podcast also came up – with Kurt Russo of the Lummi Nation, called The People Under the Sea. An additional episode with him, titled On a Prayer of Mourning, released in the last couple days will likely also hold teachings for this group.

Lastly, and guided by the reminder to “not let the world kill my heart,” as taught by Mohawk seed keeper, Rowen White in an October social media post, we were also pointed to the BBC series Ghosts as a place for lightness and laughter when it’s needed.

Meeting in September during the week of Orange Shirt Day and the National Day of Truth and Reconciliation, witnessing was an important emphasis. We shared strategies for effective and compassionate listening, as well as carefully challenging subtle and overt denialism as guided by the writing of Daniel Heath Justice and Sean Carleton at this link. One of our group members offered a personal practice that has supported them to engage in difficult conversations like this, with the following steps:
– Pause
– Validate what is being shared
– Request permission to respond to them with additional reflections
– Speaking from the heart about their own feelings

We also reflected about connection to land, beginning by thinking of mapping in a conventional sense, considering our linear journeys to places that are special to us. Then to close, we came back to the same place with the prompt below, as inspired by the concept of counter-mapping, which is explained in this article and illustrated in this beautiful video with Zuni community member and museum director Jim Enote.

Go back in your mind to that place that brings you calm and clarity, put your awareness in the stream, lake, forest our mountain, and witness yourself arriving there, instead of your path of travel. Each place has a unique spirit. How does the place see you? Does it have any messages or guidance for you? What are the constellations you carry of story to that place and away again? How could you honour it with art, story, song, prayer, weaving, making?

As a final opportunity to meet before the busyness of school life took over for many of us, and the seasons begin to shift for all, it was inspiring and motivating to hear of each person’s summer journeys in decolonizing thought and action. We spent some time reflecting about news items that may have been missed due to silencing on social media platforms and google searches. We opened with a prayer in acknowledgement of the Turtle Lodge‘s invitation to join in a “National Day of Prayer: A Call for Spiritual Unity” taking place that day in alignment with the full moon. We engaged in discussion regarding the complexity we each take up regarding land acknowledgements, as inspired by teachings from Smokii Sumac, shared at an event during the Nelson Mural Festival. We also considered what strengths we bring to diverse roles in institutions and communities, as articulated by Deepa Iyer’s Social Change Ecosystem Framework.

Looking forward to staying on contact through the seasons ahead – continuing to meet monthly, speaking and listening to each others’ journeys. May we each receive the strength and encouragement we need to keep doing our best during the intervening weeks as well!

When we gathered in July, it was a small group, and our time was spent in states of creative and metaphoric reflection. We also gave space to emotional responses working with current events through our ongoing purpose of facing truth. With the twin circumstances of denialists attempting to dig up children’s remains at Tk’emlúps and colonial governments refusing to excavate Winnipeg landfills to search for remains of Indigenous women believed to be there, we witnessed the bleakness of Indigenous experiences in Canada. This gave pause and also purpose, knowing that most will either avoid, gloss over, or even affirm the dehumanization in evidence. As people dedicated to decolonizing intentions, we must linger and remain open, even as it brings up grief, anxiety, and even visceral terror at the nature of the society in which we live, work and dream.

Collectively, we have many sources for sustaining the personal strength required to do the ongoing work of challenging colonial mindsets and structures. It was heartwarming and empowering to hear each participant share names of Indigenous people they feel supported by, whether through personal relationships or writers who inspire them. May we continue to learn and connect in a good way over the coming year, supporting one another to grow paths and momentum for decolonization against barriers that arise.

Working with a short and flexible artistic prompt, each participant created initial visual metaphors for their journey in decolonization, and then added another layer after further conversation. The third step in the process was generating the collective layered version above, presenting one synthesis of the memory of our conversation. Hopefully each person can sense if not see the presence of their contribution to the whole. One image was not included since it was only shared privately not with the full group. It would have added a floating dead fish, a common sight in the over-warm waters of July. This contribution reminds us that even when skies are clear in a season of abundance, we should carry the thread of intention to make a difference not just for the Indigenous people who suffer within societal denial, but also for plant and animal relatives who equally need our care and concern.