By Wendy McDonnell

This summer my family returned to the North.  After living in the city for four years, it was time to return to life: be alone and live simply.   We drove endlessly through our old exploration grounds reminiscing of the times in the wild we shared.  The grizzly bears greeting us by our doorsteps, the winters of below minus fifty degrees Celsius, the dark nights we searched for the warmth and companionship of a people who had lived on the land for generations and could still feel its pulse.  The stories began turning into legends the further we escaped from the concrete towers and roadways. We were connecting.  The teachings we experienced living in the north were unparalleled in any traditional school.  The true teaching occurred outdoors, whether through stories of the past or through led expeditions through the bush.

Being a woman in the north, I searched for the comfort of a womanhood I had barely read about in stories.  I craved the knowledge, the spirit, and the connection that the Elders possessed with the land.  I asked questions but the answers were often unspoken.  My concerns were not what they wanted to teach me.  Who really cared how long they breastfed their newborns, when they were struggling with addiction, abuse and neglect.  Beading nights often occurred in silence, uncomfortable for me, yet perfect to still their minds and connect with their spirits.  I tried to pry, observe, advise but was still oblivious for many years of the true depth of their survival.  My questions were simple and disoriented for my young years.

The culture thrives on connections.  A raw, real relationship that needs to be harnessed instead of mocked.  A confusion stems within the people that can only be solved from within.  They are torn between their spirit’s expectations and modern materialism.  While reading A Native’s Life by Richard Wagamese, he spoke about how he had one foster father that understood his unspoken connection with the natural world.  The only way he knew how to foster this in his “son” was to take him fishing.  On the dock they sat, in silence, while the boy connected in a way completely unbeknown to most.  The ability of the First Nation’s to harness this gift is amazing and powerful.  When Chief Dan George passed away, an eagle soared above the entire ceremony and flew when it ended.  He was speaking to his people; to all people, that indeed there is purpose and anything is possible.

When we visited the village we spent so many cold winters in, we began to cry.  A new understanding of the people had bloomed within us and we subsequently went to all our past students homes to share some time.  Not used to outsiders, many were shocked and hid, but others gave us hugs, like “Donna”.  In a drunken stupor, she shared her story at the side of our beaten up truck.  The power of her words mesmerized us and all I could do was send healing energy to her to help her overcome her confusion.  She had lost her daughter recently in a house fire, her son had just graduated, she needed to stop drinking, she was a medicine woman but she was a Catholic.  Her husband abused her, and she almost died the night before until a voice told her to eat black ash to cleanse her.

She survived, and she prayed.  She was a product of Residential School, no attachment, no culture, no love for her own spirit.  At that moment I knew that she spoke for many First Nations who are trying to live in a world of capitalism, destruction, and selfishness.

We hugged Donna and left the village with a new sense of how much we needed to learn.  We realized that within us all, we have a First Nations spirit: a need to connect, to be at peace and to find our way for the greater good.

So when I embark on an Eco-Lesson, I first research the First Nations history of the particular plant, animal or situation.  The information can then help me produce a lesson that will help connect children to their First Nations within.  Then we are silent.  We listen.  We touch.  We feel the pulse of the earth and we say thank you:  Simple, effective and unbelievingly curative.

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Articles by Wendy