Receiving My Canadian Certification of Indian Status; A Heritage and Ancestry Celebration

I wasn’t going to share this, due to misconceptions, judgements and opinions. But there is something to the poetry of BEING that is meant to be shared, despite all of that harsher reality. It’s worth it. Now, let's get the boring political jargon and myths out of the way before my celebratory post:

(My husbands gift to me for this celebration) 

 **Note on terms: "Indian Status" is what the Government of Canada terms my card due to the treaty. Currently, I know that "Indigenous" is a preferred term. Some of my relatives are all about the terms, while others could not care less. My Grandpa is one of the latter. From an early age he taught me that it is not the words themselves but the way they are stated in, or the love, respect or dignity (or lack thereof) within context given. He has been slurred with the word "Indian" and he has been honoured by the word "Indian." He taught me, when I was a wee one in the early eighties, to be proud of the term. "First Nations" became larger a term as I grew up, followed by "Native," followed by "Aboriginal," and now "Indigenous." I have written about vocabulary on terms based on my Autism diagnosis Click HERE. I feel the same mentality applies. This blog is my home and I am comfortable using the terms interchangeably based on my personal history. I believe each of them has been used for harm but also for good, depending on the person behind the words. I am personally honoured to have each term applied to myself. If you carry wounds from these words, please translate them to words that cause less pain for yourself, but know that I am saying them from a place of empowerment, honouring, and personal heritage. ** 

**Note on the myths of benefits: I do not live on a reserve, neither do most of my relatives that carry status cards. The government does count my status to give to the band I am registered with, to determine the benefits for that reserve, however where I live, there are not many benefits (if any). No, we do not just get free university. No, we do not all have tax free lives (it does not affect me at all.) The one benefit I have besides border crossing more easily (which I do not really need) is some prescriptions covered (which I have not used in years.) Here is an article on this before any assumptions are made on what I do or do not deserve: https://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/indian-status-5-more-things-you-need-to-know-1.3109451 So, if I do not receive benefits, why is it important to me? Why did I apply? Well, that is answered in my post below. 

***

What does it mean to embrace a heritage, if one is the true definition of a Canadian: A mosiac of varied histories, legacies and nations? As I wrote in THIS (click) post about being Canadian: "I belong to this land. I have cherished its freedom. I am proud that my ancestor from Spain drove cattle from Mexico into the heart of Caribou County. I have often wondered, when I was in the heart of the mountains, if my Indigenous ancestors from the Secwepemc/ Shuswap nation traversed similar paths. I am thankful that my German, Danish, English and Romanian ancestors on the other side of my family tree, found their freedom when they were being persecuted in their home countries. They dug roots so that my down home could run deep. They celebrated that their country allowed for the freedoms of worship, community, health rights, and autonomy. They built up generations for the place I now call home. " (For more on the personal Indigenous/ Spanish history of my Grandpa T. Click HERE) 

If I could, I would love to live on the land of each of my ancestral blood ties. I love learning about each of the histories and tracing back as far as I can, into the shared hardships and joys of the different ancestors in my genetic line. It is a crucial part of BEING. Just like my Autism diagnosis was a crucial part of discovering myself, or my MBTI of INFJ. Having my Status card is another piece to the glorious BEING of ME, shaped by generations before. However, just like INFJ or Autistic, these terms do not explain the WHOLE of myself. Genetics ARE important for many aspects of living in health and family, but they are not the END STATEMENT. Family is not only blood, but those who CHOOSE to love. Health is not just genetics but also choices. Complexity is in BEING. There are so many facets. That stated, each layer of self discovery, and honouring roots, adds beauty to life.

***

This year has been so full of change, grief, and joy that I almost forgot I had applied. I had given it a brief thought a few weeks ago, wishing that I had my status when I was filling out a form, just so I could honour my Grandfather's roots and state,"Yes, that is in my history." But I couldn't and I promptly was swept away with daily life details. Until yesterday, when my husband walked into my bedroom humming a Native trill that my Grandpa used to sing while he patted my back as a baby, and waving a letter. His face shone with excitement and immediately I KNEW. My sense of home shifted once again. I did not think I could feel more at home, but a settled rootedness grew in an instant of confirmation, before I could even rip open the letter...

***

Blood ties appeal to my mystical soul (herbalist/ folklorist/ and nature based, which I call fondly 'witchy' due to my love of all things Harry Potter and Broadway's Wicked.) I am the one who loves nature and feels deep ties to the land. My spirituality has always been connected to nature. God is in every speck. I knew God before I could speak. I FELT Divinity playing in my Grandmother's yard and watching the flowers sway. Before my Christian upbringing combined with my Mystical upbringing gave me words, I had an inner KNOWING. It was easy for me to accept a God I could not see, because I saw and adored the Creation. Talking with others on the topic, I have found my way of seeing the world was not as common as I thought. There were outdoorsy people (which I am NOT) and then there were lovers of nature like me...(See THIS post for more on my love of nature.) I spent much of my childhood on the lands near my band's reserve. My Grandpa would take me on hikes in the forrest to pick Saskatoon berries and blueberries (still some of my favourites!) As I wrote HERE (click):Half of my life growing up I spent at each of my grandparents' houses for the summers in the Cariboo Mountains. Grandpa would take me into the forest and give me instructions on bear safety and the sounds of the forest- most of which I have unfortunately forgotten but some rules stuck. As we trudged up the path, me weary and him bursting with energy, he would stop and point out waterfalls and flowers.  The man who would kill to eat, stepped aside to not crush a flower. "Missy, a good person won't leave an imprint in the forest they travel, unless it's to mark their path." He would break twigs off to show me how to know where I have been while looking forward to where I should go. My favourite part was when we'd see the orange/ red peeking out from the grass. Indian Paintbrush. They symbolized Grandpa T. to me. I'd rush over and exclaim, "Grandpa, I found Indian Paintbrush!" He would crouch down and touch the pretty flower weed. "This is fire just like your ancestors. They understood that each living thing is a gift of creation. Each living thing possess the breath God breathed to create."  Occasionally he would allow me to pick one and take it home. Grandma would put it in a pretty vase and serve me cookies as I stared at the fiery passion of nature, grateful for my roots.

***

A few weeks before he died last October, my brother in law freely took my picture for my application for Status. I was awkward. He, of course, was smooth and charming, so he tried to make me feel at ease with his smile. He told me he read up on it and I was not supposed to smile. As I was walking out, he asked me to inform him if I received my status. I knew he was probably just being polite, but I made a mental note to inform him regardless. Unfortunately, I can not thank him personally once again and tell him I received it. However, I believe in the spiral dances of life. Part of my process oddly carried my husband's German ancestry. His relative was part of the process. That feels a bit more WHOLE.

***

My Auntie Donna died a few years ago. She had her Status and always wanted me to get mine. I had applied in my early twenties but the paternal/ maternal laws were different and I was denied. When the laws switched to honour maternal, with my extended family's encouragement and my brother's print offs, I re applied. Honestly, it's a lot of work, as anyone who deals with forms and red tape can attest to, and part of me did not feel like doing the work again only to be denied. 

***

PRESENCE. My aunt had a presence and part of her essence was driven by her deep love of our Native roots. She knew more about that aspect of our history, and was more attached to our relatives on the reserves. Pre internet, she was constantly researching the background of our original tribe. My Aunt has been on my mind more so than when she first passed away. This last year I have had moments of grief so strong, in random places, remembering her. Recently, we attended an event where a lady sang, "Love Can Build a Bridge." She sounded just like The Judds. I stopped her afterwards and with choked up tears I stated, "You sang beautifully. I felt like my Aunt was sitting beside me. She loved that song and the Judds whom you sounded like. She passed away recently, but I felt her tonight. Thank you." Part of why I applied again, was because of my Auntie Donna. The spiral has circled back and I am incorporating her legacy and Spirit into my own dance of life. I wish I could show her my card. She would have been so excited. I partially re applied because of her. (Click HERE for her tribute post.) My Grandmother, who also recently passed away, also wished this for me and I sent sparks of gratitude to heaven for her part in my story.

***

A few years ago, an Anthropologist/Archeologist was visiting our home to speak at one of our 'Called to Questions' (a monthly gathering where we invite professors from Universities/Tradespeople passionate about their topics etc. to present and enter into dialogue with invited guests.) We conversed on the topic of being Canadian, and what that means. I told her a bit of my history and how I was debating on re applying but felt guilty because I was not full blooded Indigenous. She surprised me with her passion, "It is actually your DUTY to try again. Even if you carry a speck that the government acknowledges, it is a priority to show them the many people of their country who carry these ancient bloodlines. These peoples who lived on this land are integral to our being... many of which helped us to survive here. I study various cultures and have headed up many digs. I especially loved being with the Natives of Nicaragua. From my standpoint, it is not only a duty, but an honour to be able to have ties to the land you walk upon and to state it and show proof of it to those who doubt. I strongly encourage you to re apply." 

***

A few months later, I was conversing with my adopted Aunt on my husband's side who is fully Indigenous, I asked her if it would bother her at all...since I clearly have many other bloodlines within me. We had a beautiful conversation but I can recall her saying something akin to, "It's a part of you. I can feel the connection we share of the love of nature. I recognize this in you. I would never hold it against you if you applied. I would celebrate it." And yesterday, when I texted her...she did.

***

Canadas National Indigenous Peoples Day is June 21. The mystic in me loves that this is also Summer Solstice/ Litha. (click.) Our family loves to mark the seasons. This year my spiritual worlds collide on this day. I love marking the moon and discovering new names for the moon from the T’exelcemc is even more special. 

***

These are some of the myriad of reasons I teared up when my Status card arrived. This is why I texted anyone I could think of to celebrate. Most did not bother to acknowledge the beauty in it, but the friends and family who did, KNEW. They KNEW my history, my bonds, my spirituality and their statements of congrats or acknowledgement, whispered understanding, community and connection into my soul. Spiralling into my heart's dance, their voices combined. They are a part of my status too. They are a part of my journey and rooted belonging. On and off, the entire day I felt like I was walking on clouds. I felt euphoric. I felt immense gratitude for belonging, peoples, land, earth and sky. The landscape of ABUNDANCE. I felt closer to God. I was reminded I am still BECOMING. There are more layers to my story, but this is one. This is important. This is me.

I felt belonging.

Post ADDITION : I actually do get one benefit- it turns out my dental is almost all covered-  even though I do not live on a reserve-  which is amazing as I have terrible teeth and no insurance so now that saves me my teeth and a ton of money!!! 

Song Choice: My husband loves this because it's his Viking roots mixed with Native American songs...lol he also played me "Indian Outlaw" which is probably considered culturally inappropriate today but it did remind me of the nineties when I loved the fact that our culture was mentioned in a country song! I loved the beat...so yes, I'm guilty of throwing my head back laughing and dancing along with it in celebration with my family! And of course, anyone who knows me, knows my love of the song "Colours of the Wind" which I have sung to my children for 19 years at bedtime. I loved Disney's Pocahontas as a child, and still do, despite it being called to cancellation by some. To me it represented aspects of my heritage, when many of those stories were lacking as main heroines at the time. I sang Colours of the Wind to my children every night that I tucked them in (followed by Part of Your World (Little Mermaid) and God Help the Outcasts ( Hunchback) to which I still choke up at every time! The lyrics to Colours of the Wind still apply to our times, "How can there be so much that you don't know? You don't know…" We don't know each path for each person. The riches of the earth are all around us. We are all connected to each other. The hoop of Life spirals amongst us. The wolf cry ignites my spirit. We all need to sing with all the voices of the mountains and paint with the colours of the wind...:

Soulful Gifts on the Spiral of my new 38th Year. A Birthday Post.

(My sister's capture of our Northern Lights)

I look up from my computer screen to see the toenail of the moon curving eastward, sitting slightly above the evergreen tree-line across from our home. The deep, dusky blue sky is darkening and twinkle lights from the Christmas tree are highlighted in the window against the sparkling crystals. I am torn between just staring at the window, and trying to write down my thoughts as they happen. So I alternate. Because each dusk is a soulful gift.

It is later in the year for us to put up our Christmas trees due to the events of the last month. Halloween decor is a staple all year in my home, but it mixes perfectly with Christmas and Yule for me. In our province, it usually is already snowing and quite cold, but this year, the season seems to sense that people need more time to be outside. My Spirit feels deep gratitude at the wild ways of nature. Ever surprising. Ever teaching. 

November is my birthday month. Like the moon phases in the sky, I have had changing phases in my celebrations (or lack thereof.) I've had a fraught history with birthdays. I love gifts. Both expected and surprising...but I have struggled at being the center of expectation. But after almost 38 years, I have finally reframed my birthday. I view time as a cyclical spiral instead of a linear line. For some reason, I oddly did not apply my overall view to my birthdays. Instead I saw them as one more year behind, and another year trudging towards my inevitable aging and demise. How did I not untie my cares around an important event in the cycle? How did I not see, that my life seasons are cyclical too? The Wheel of the Year speaks to my soul. There is a welcome home in each mark of the season. Each season teaches, gives and begets another aspect of God breathed creation, the wildness of nature, and the pure gifts and hardships of unique time scapes. 

Seasons reflect spirituality. Seasons are in friendships where the ebb and flow mimic the ocean tides. I see pictures of myself, in various forms, and I realize that forgetting to honour my seasons... Well, to phrase Bilbo Baggins, "It is no small thing to celebrate a life." AH LIFE! A life! Life, with it's northern lights and explosive volcanoes...beauty and destruction paired and part of the same universe. Complexity and simplicity. Joy and sorrow. We hold mini versions of these diverse landscapes inside our human shells. I am honoured to have this vessel of mine, for however long I do, it can be such a heartbreakingly beautiful world. 

While northern lights are a stunning sky painting of awe, so is every sunrise and sunset. The light in my bedroom often will be sifting through my curtains as I wake, and at a certain time, a sun symbol on my wall lights up with the actual sunlight. I often will wait to start my day until I have had a few moments to contemplate on the peace filled symbol. My children say that too often they hear, "Hey guys look, look, look, it's the sun on the sun! It will only be there for a few more minutes. Enjoy it. Savour it." Most of the time they indulge me, sometimes they roll their eyes with a grin and mock me...either way I smile.

Going into this 38th cycle, I wanted to honour a few aspects which have incorporated into this new curve of the spiral:

1. My Professor Vader Bhaer. 

I have never been a pet person nor have ever had an animal in my home. Yet now, every morning a black cat leaps on to my bed and purrs over my shoulder. Not only does he leave all my plants and decor alone, but he rubs up against my leg when the pellet litter needs a change, (so my house does not smell as much as I feared) and gives me ample alone time. He loves each of my kids, only meows in the morning if he notices one of us is not up yet (he meows at that door) but otherwise is not very vocal. He rolls into me, stomach up, when I am brushing him and it's adorable. I call him my sweetheart and baby. He is the pet I always hoped to have. He was one of the greatest gifts of my 37th year. 

2. Country stuff

It's in my roots, my story, my genetics, and my heart. But some seasons I forget, neglect or am down right embarrassed of my down home roots. This time around, they have given my hope, fuelled inspiration, provided breaks of simple comfort, and given epic freedom. Plus, my guy is still so hot when he dresses up as a cowboy...which he also did when we were dating, just for me. He found a 450 dollar hat, with the label and name still in it, at the thrift store for ten dollars...and let me just say, he ROCKS it. We found boots at another thrift store a couple weeks later that fit him perfectly. Another few hundred dollars worth item marked down to 15 bucks! My house and our whole wardrobes are thrifted or gifted.

I may be a proud thrifter, moonstone wearing, symbol loving, glitter glam, candle lighting, lover of all things sparkly gal...but why limit myself to one genre of BEING?

3.) More hugs. 

The tragic day my brother in law died, I was holding our kids, his kids and family so much, that the next day, when I lifted my arm in the way that happens with hugs, I realized it was a strained muscle. My eldest son teased,"It's called hugging mom. I know it's a foreign concept to you beyond our walls." And I realized maybe those muscles need more exercise. Perhaps hugs are not fully the sensory overload I once needed strong boundaries upon? I disliked people pulling me in to their zones, smells, and textures. Sometimes, I still am not prepared or feel the need for space...but I am finding myself pulling more people in to my space willingly, and taking it for the gift of sharing exchange that it is. 

4. Sunday Soccer.

Ok, maybe I do not play...sometimes due to weather, I don't even show up as a spectator 'till it's almost over. But I can see the happenings from my window across the field and hear the shouts. I love the community of it. I love seeing normal life participating in team work. I am not a sports person by any means, but I appreciate that sports can bring people together, like many other activities I may not do (like trivia games.) Being a witness to a flexible type of sport, where it's not about competition as much as it community building, allowing the newbies to get the ball and learn, and encourage anyone to join, at any time, at any age...well, that is it's own magic.

5.) My kids jobs.

Honestly, we have been so blessed to find jobs that are safe, secure and within their giftings during this season. Plus, flexible in hours enough to also have school, drivers experience, and home time. This new spiral has been home to many layered phases that are built upon old growth patterns.

37 turns around the wheel. The dawn of 38 is around the next bend. I am grateful for it all. Of course, there are sprinkled memories I wish I could change a bit...but I wouldn't be whom I am today without those hardships...and this is not the perfection we ache for often. This is messy, gritty, painful, emotional yet simple, joyous, chaotically organized, euphoric, stately LIFE. My cup runneth over. Thank you dear World for so many Ace of cups moments. Thank you for the experiences which shape, destroy, protect, take and give. Thank you for shooting stars, grass stains, dandelions, twinkle lights, front porch sitting, Elvis singing, Kelly Clarkson Christmas new tuning, multiple Christmas decorating, mistake making, grace giving moments. Thank you that I do not have to earn love given freely, self improve for the sake of saving myself, or constantly prove I am worthy to exist. Although god knows, I fall into the trap of all the above regularly. But deep down, I know, at my core, that we are all worthy to exist, because here we are. 

I'm just glad to be here.

P.S. In full transparency- I’m notoriously terrible at my actual birthday day. I mourn that I don’t know what I want to eat or do or whom I am this ONE day -every.single.year. Any other day and I know exactly what I want! This year I keep my own words in my heart ( and I meant every word ) but I did get my terrible period. I was found staring into a depressive void and suddenly realizing my children were surrounding me in a Little Women style ( that luckily my hubby captured below)  

 I may have laid on the ground in pain while my family piled blankets on me… and then my daughter joined first and tried to match my facial expressions with hers, which made me laugh a lot- and each of my precious life savers joined in the antics - and immediately my day was salvaged; 

Good birthday news: remember Rasby? My thyroid nodule? For 8 years I’ve had to monitor it via ultrasound and finally it has shrunk enough to not warrant concern. I held off biopsies and such cuz I hate medical intervention if not absolutely necessary - and now I’m in the clear for malignancy ! I’m so thankful - the Specialist kept chuckling at me thanking him for some reason - but I’m happy. One less medical anomaly to worry about:) happy birthday to me. 

Song Choice: St. Patricks Day- Darren Criss "Here comes the cold, break out the winter clothes and find a love to call your own. You. Into you. Your cheeks the shade of pink and the rest of you in powder blue. Who knows what will be, who knows what we'' bring, but I'll make you this guarantee. See, No way November will see our goodbye. When it comes to December, it's obvious why... Oh we should take a ride tonight around the town and look at all the beautiful houses. Something in the way the blue light on the black night can make you feel more. Everybody it seems to me, just wants to be just like you and me. If our always is all that we gave, then we someday take that away..."