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...:

Dear Canada: Canada's True North & Gandalf's Advice to Being Lost in the Woods.

*I updated this post after Trudeau called for a state of emergency (and then revoked it) in February of 2022 and feel it still applies. *

"Now I turn around and find that I am lost in the woods. North is south, right is left...Now I'm lost in the woods...up till now, the next step was a question of how? I never thought it was a question of "whether." (Lost in the Woods Lyrics Frozen 2)

Canada has always been true north for me. I have a mug that says, “The world needs more Canada!” In 2021/ 2022, I did not feel that way about my country as a whole. I felt a little lost. Where was my true north?

The North has a way of giving and taking so suddenly. I believe this gives the many inhabitants a live or die mentality of savouring goodness and seizing unexpected moments quickly. I have always believed we were a resilient lot, due to our ever-changing seasons. I am a 'Northern girl, wild and free with four strong winds to carry me.’ (Terri Clark, Northern Girl Lyrics)

This is who I am. Although I may complain at times, and it brings its share of pain, it also brings great depth, freedom, raw strength and beauty. Despite its many issues, Canada has always been to me, the True, North, Strong and Free. But as 2020 turned into 2021 and then 2022, it no longer felt like the land of the free or the strong or perhaps even the true? Everyone was claiming truth at the expense of someone else. The news was manipulating populations in the name of protection. Government was corrupt, more so than usual, and many seemed to have lost their inner compass. Instead of helping our neighbours, we were asked to veto them, require proof of one type of living or BEING, and deny anyone not on the "right side of history" (AKA “our side.”) Maybe we were just too tired and run down to care anymore because the grief was encompassing on every level?

During this time period, my family and I visited our favourite Heritage site, not knowing it would be our last free outing before restrictions again. I was alone in the old-fashioned apothecary shop with the owner. She cheerily accosted me with, "I adore your outfit, half buns in your hair, and entire look. Did you just have that outfit come together or copy it from somewhere? You kind of look like a brown haired version of that DC antihero Harley Quinn!" I chuckled at her genuine enthusiasm and compliment. As I answered her, my gaze fell on a forgotten crystal, covered in dust and a bit of rust, for sale behind the counter. It was the Northern Star. I collect window crystals and knew, despite the rust in the crevices, that it was going home with me. The owner stated that it seemed to suit me. I smiled at her amongst the old pharmacy bottles, tarot cards, crystals, pill bottles and mirrors. Dust floated into the old wooden slants of the cottage shop. Muffled squeals of the families in the candy shop next door, found their way through knotted crevices, but otherwise it was quiet. Old buildings seem to have a settled sort of hush. I love the sacred, quiet places. Upon seeing pictures on our text feed, my father asked if we were the only ones at the park, but we had been there so many times through the years, we knew how to navigate, so it seemed that we were mostly alone. My husband says magic follows me but I believe I follow it. My True North and definition of magic is ALL THAT IS.

Afterwards, my family teased me because I could not stop talking about the magical encounter. The crystal now hangs in my living room window with memories of community; the beauty of strangers’ compliments, magic, and old-fashioned cures and beliefs mixed with the new parts of now; My True North.

Lockdown and a new virus, with varied rules (some unjust and some reasonable rules that protected) were tough on all of us humans. In Canada, what I experienced was extreme division. This land of the chill turned into the land of polarities. As Frodo, in Lord of the Rings, sadly lamented to Gandalf, "I wish it need not have happened in my time." 

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 tribe 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. 

 (“Let us do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow’s cause.” Isaiah 1:17)

Anne Frank, a young teen during WW2 in Europe, may not have seen the end of her war, due to dying from secondary conditions of her imprisonment, but people like her, who told their stories, tried to be grateful, and tried to BE. Their stories became, in a way, everyone's story. By BEING in hard times, even to the end of themselves, and telling their story, they contributed to the world's story. It's brave to BE when a narrative is telling you it is not legitimate. When the larger story says that you are not safe, or that it would be "better for everyone" if you followed this rule and that rule even if you are not sick at all, or worse, flat out wanting you to cease being in every place possible. It is brave to still know you ARE loved and worthy to exist. Growing up we were taught Anne Franks' story as children to show us that even a child, who is curious, wishing to BE, and keeping an innocent journal, had a place in the hero's story. She had no idea the impact she would make just from trying to live. Those that pass onward while doing their best to LIVE always matter. In each big moment in history they were there. But perhaps more importantly, we are here because of each little moment in history. We are here, because each person in our family line chose to make a life, however that would look like, Begetting and Begotten. We are here because they were. We are now in our turn of BEING, because they fought for true north.

Maybe we are past trusting each other with handshakes, but luckily, I see that the inner concept mostly still stands where I live. Perhaps smaller rural areas take longer to lose true north? I hope so. Some people call it ignorant. "You think I'm an ignorant savage? Well, you've been so many places, I guess it must be so. But still I cannot see, if the savage one is me? How can there be so much that you don't know?" (Disney Pocahontas Lyrics)

Perhaps that is why a lot of those who still have to make a living off the land, tend to know the truths of resiliency, natural cycles of death and rebirth, and responsibility at a deeper level than many who do not? Weather, death, and destruction...the natural landscape takes and takes along with a tiny bright blot of giving. 

The best life, the one most likely to succeed, is one that owns its responsibility but also relies on its community. Cultures that revere nature, Ranchers, blue-collar workers, and foresters etc. seem to inwardly know this. The north with its harsh climate brings untamed beauty. I love my Canadian prairies and their great partner of sky. It can be treacherous in any climate. In mine, I recognize the wild spirits in the strong steel of survivors of the land. These survivors valued the wild and the free. They braved. 

Each time history has lost its true north; people eventually have come back to this truth of living; one’s best life is lived where they are FOUND. The skies hold hope, steady inspiration within ever-changing circumstances, and wild freedom. All we have to do is look UP.

True north is a guide. It’s a state of being from the ultimate BEING. It's that moment, when all hope is seemingly lost, and the darkness suffocates because the moon is dark and the stars are clouded...and one star brightly becomes a beacon in the stark darkness. "You are not alone," It whispers to the great partner of sky. "There is more, there is always light- it just may hide for awhile. Eventually freedom does surface once again." Unfortunately, often it takes a lot of people losing many things, perhaps even lives, for freedom to be valued once again, for the crystal to become clear in the sun. Fear is never the answer. Truth is warm, real and bright. The world shifts in love. We need to sing with all the colours of the winds and allow them to sweep away the clouds blocking true north again. 

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. The lyrics can eerily 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. An example of this would be in the current narrative of health. How do we think we can force the answers or health choices of others when multiple factors such as a history of vaccine anaphylaxis, secondary ingredients etc. can be involved? We don’t own other’s contexts. The majority experience does not always fit the minority. All we can endeavour to do is own our story.

"You think the only people whom are people, are the people who think and look like you." (Pocahontas lyrics) Does this sound familiar in our own narratives? In 2021, did some of us mistakenly believe that the only people whom were people, were the ones who were on our sides of the lockdowns and vaccination stories? Masks? Laws? Politics? In the end, while of course, our stances matter, all things dissolve. What matters more is how we LOVED.

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear involves punishment... If anyone says, “I love God,” but hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.” (1 John 4:19)

"But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger, you'll learn things you never knew, you never knew." (Colours of the Wind Lyrics) There are so many layers to our stories. There is grief we each carry. There is hope too. "Can you brave what you most fear? Can you brave what the river knows? Where the north wind meets the sea?" (All is Found Frozen 2 Lyrics)

When the world overwhelms me, I walk outside. The other evening we stopped on the highway on the way home to look at the stars. We felt small yet oddly so special. The sky was speckled with diamonds. I felt dizzy trying to soak it all in. Suddenly, a coyote began howling and had us running for the van, as a large group of howls surrounded us. I tripped over my youngest son when we dove for the doors, because it sounded like a pack was right beside us. Later, in the distance, from the safety of our van window, we heard dogs begin barking and horses neighing, and more howls from miles away. It is in those moments, I realize how close we all are to the precarious nature of BEING. 

"Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest, come taste the sun-sweet berries of the earth, come roll in all the riches all around you and for once never wonder what they're worth…” (Colours of the Wind Lyrics) When we step into the nature of the land, and see the immense cyclical nature of life and death, the precarious danger mixed with absolute delights, we realize, as people, how much more are we capable of doling out? 

Tolkien’s Gandalf wisely stated, "Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. Even the very wise can not see all ends.” Because as Pocahontas sings; "We are all connected to each other, in a circle, in a hoop that never ends." 

(“What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you? You desire and do not have, so you murder. You covet and cannot obtain, so you fight and quarrel. You do not have, because you do not ask.” James 4:1-2)

If we are connected to each other, why are we eager to override freewill and autonomy? Why do we wish to enforce our wills on another? Is there another way? 

"How high does the sycamore grow? If you cut it down, then you'll never know...we need to sing with all the voices of the mountain, we need to paint with all the colours of the wind..." (Colours of the Wind Lyrics)

Canada is the home of four strong winds. It has often symbolized freedom, kindness, tenacity, and generous amounts of space. But for awhile, much of it was forgetting. Much of it was lost. Our north star was glimmering in and out. But, "Sometimes you have to get a bit lost to know that you are found..." (All is Found Lyrics)

"There is a mother full of memory, come my darling homeward bound, where all is lost and all is found.” (All is Found Lyrics) This mother has memory from the mother before her, and the mother before her, and the mother before her, and the mother before her, and on it goes to the great Mother. We are all homeward bound, to death and beyond, whether we wish to be or not. All is lost and all is found in the ever-turning clock of eternity, where time is all experienced as one. But us singular beings currently alive on this earth, we are guided by angels and stars and our predecessors. We must choose which parts we lose and which parts we find. 

We must find our own paths to True North. I may feel a deep seated grief and "every inch of me is trembling, but not from the cold. Something is familiar, like a dream that I can reach but not quite hold…I can sense you there, like a friend I have always known. I am arriving and it feels like I am home...you have secrets too, but you don't have to hide. Show yourself...it's your turn." (Show Yourself lyrics.) In our lives, we will have moments when it's our move, our turn and the eyes of the world will be watching. 

Canada has had its past and its own darker secrets. Because it is younger, we have less to bemoan, yet still we all have those places to grieve, but overall? Home is a word where feelings run deep. "You must brave what you most fear. Can you brave what the river knows?...Until the river is finally crossed- you'll never feel the solid ground... You have to get a little lost on your way to being found...She will sing to those that hear, and in her song all magic flows..." (All is Found Lyrics)

"I've never felt so certain, all my life I've been torn, but I'm here for a reason, could this be the reason I was born? I have always been so different, normal rules did not apply. Is this the day? Are you the way? I finally find out why?...Here I am...I've come so far... Show yourself! Let me see who you are!" (Show Yourself lyrics) 

Let me see whom you are, I say to myself first, then to my fellow friends and community members, my province, and Canada and the world at large. Be true, Be kind, Be free, Be wild.

(“And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” Matthew 25:40)

So it had come to this moment in my history. I felt seemingly lost, my family and friends felt lost with me, and my country also seemed generally lost in the darkness of the woods. But the good thing about being lost is that there is a possibility of being FOUND.

Although, indeed, I wish it never had happened in my time...And Gandalf sorrowfully but confidently replies, "So do all whom live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide, all that we have to decide is what to do with the time that has been given to us." 

(“And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbours, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’" Luke 15:6)

All is found. What shall we do with OUR time? How will we feel and give love and worth?

                                            

*This video was taken after we were in the van and the nearer howls died down but you can still hear them in the distance. My phone does not capture anything at night so the picture is pure dark.

For those concerned with freedom specifically from the vx perspective but also concerned about health- Here is also a link from a man who believes strongly in vaccinations and the science behind them and the covid vax- but why the current trajectory is not right ( this one is speaking to US mandates ) but has good points overall about forcing, bad approach, natural immunity for those who have had covid, needle fear etc.) https://zdoggmd.com/vaccine-mandate/

The Apothecary:

The North Star:

Song Choices: Lost in the Woods- Jonathan Groff Frozen 2

Colours of the Wind- Judy Kuhn Pocahontas

All Is Found- Kacey Musgraves

Show Yourself- Idina Menzel and Evan Rachel Wood Frozen 2

In The Golden Afternoon. Contentment Where the Green Country Grasses of Home Grow.

My soul feels nurtured, my ailments begin to heal and my heart sings of belonging when I sit on my front porch. The neighbourhood is often quiet of traffic or people during certain times of the day which I feel are solely mine. If I sit long enough in one of my favourite places, I can hear and witness all manners of creatures. The chilly prairie breezes carry the sounds before the arrival of four tiny Canadian Geese, freshly out of the nest in a nearby bog, fly in a sloppy V towards me. Their honks are wobbly and tinny compared to those of their parents. I watch them until they are swallowed up by the gray blobs of clouds that threaten rain but can not follow through, due to the sun stealing moments in between spaces. For an instant the sun shines through again and showcases two gophers across from me whistling at each other and chasing in a flurry of tails and frolicking hops. My flowers and birdseed await bumbling bees and tiny birds of flight. I wait silently, hoping they will be found.

The first bee that buzzes to the flowers by my side, after what feels like hours, is plump already. That is a good sign. I smile quietly as I watch it take what needs to be taken. Half an hour later the first brave Chickadee sticks it's beak into the bird feeder before quickly flying away.

The wind pushes more clouds over the sun. For a moment I close my eyes and feel the sun trying to shine it's warmth through. The slight arctic chill in the breeze whips my hair and I suddenly notice that chirping has been silenced. My eyes open to green slanted eyes staring back. The black cat with white paws stalks over our front yard rocks. It assesses me, decides that today it does not want to come over for a pat or a treat, and gingerly hops over our front fence and into the field to see if it can eat more gophers. We see it often on the hunt and it's plump belly showcases it's successes.

I love this space. I can hear crickets chirp from the marsh a few metres away in the evening. I see varying species of birds nest down into the bullrushes. Sometimes at night I can hear the coyotes salute the full moon. On a snowy winter's night, we witnessed a Moose, antlers curvy and majestic, walk down the street, away from our home. I wished to follow. Instead I watched, starry eyed at how magickal normal life can be.

Deer have also pranced into the field and into our vision on quiet summer nights. Snowy owls have hooted their song and skunks have taken up residence nearby. On our back deck we heard rummaging one night, to see the cute little form of a black and white skunk. Shielded from a possible spray inside, we had the joy of watching the adorable creature for an hour. Luckily, it moved onward, but these kind of moments make me infinitely thankful for where I find myself at home in.

This HOME of BEING feels like John Stamos'* smile. Who can resist that warmth of feeling? If I find a person who can not abide him, then I wonder if some of their innocent sense of being is lost. On days where the world feels too much, I sit on my deck and I am reminded that the richest beauty is often in the simplest things. I still have the freedom to sit outside and soak up all that is. The tulips are popping up, as we finally are seeing green in our northern land of snow and ice. It's a short, precious season. 

My husband recently remarked, "We have ten trees in our front yard alone. That is more than our whole street has." (Actually our surrounding ten homes have a total of two trees.) I asked him if it would be considered socially inappropriate to offer to buy, plant and take care of for the first season, one tree per neighbour. He said it probably would, which baffled me. They could choose the spot, but he said such things are not really accepted as offers in neighbours. This made me infinitely sad. I love my trees and would gladly help my neighbourhood cultivate more for the birds to roost, the caterpillars and ants to climb, and the wind to rustle. 

One of the greatest beauties to give the world is to plant a tree or some flowers. All one really needs is the ground and some good intentions, a bit of water and caring time. Yet, the riotous colours of flowers feeding the outer ecosystem seem to be be generally undervalued. Luckily nature has a way. It's favourite way seems to be the hearty heavy hitter of the herb/flower world; Dandelions. Yet, there is a spray solely for it. Isn't it that the way we sometimes go? We forget that things planted can offer more than a sunny bright patch of beauty, but also herbal healing teas, nurturing presence and the first important food for bees. Instead we spray for the hopes of a perfectly manicured grass patch that soaks more water than it should, and does not feed the ecosystem as much as a bunch of diverse weeds, herbs, flowers, shrubs and trees would. 

My heart awakens in the elements of nature. While I am not an outdoor sports gal at all, I am one with the cultivated, yet still wild within itself, nature surrounding me. When the sun comes out from a cloud in it's full warmth and the breeze enhances the scents of wild roses, I am transported back to my grandmothers home as a child. She cultivated gorgeous gardens stocked with wild flowers and purposefully planted schemes of the imagination. I would be sent outside to play, but my favourite thing to do was walk around and around from the front yard to the back. I would touch the stone wall on the side of the house and smell the yellow buttercups. The grand ship sitting in the neighbours yard was close enough to touch, and lent a Peter Pan type energy to my imaginative world. I would talk to the flowers believing that little sprites were listening. I would gather pine cones to make a circle under the large conifers. If I sat down on the soft patches of grass, my eyes would eventually find the clothesline full of linens flapping in the breeze. The light laundry smell warming in the sun would fill me with peace. All was right in the world when I was at Grandma's  house. I did not realize until my thirties, that I had the gardening bug in me as well. I thought it was just my husband's interests, but it turns out I was connected from a wee babe. I belong to the big skies where hours upon hours stretch out with full possibilities. In a short span of time the sky can change from foggy gray to patches of azure to pink ocean depths or to a world enveloped in silvery flakes.From season to season, the skies continue to inspire, enhance and remind me, both of how large I am in my world, and how very small. A blanket of stars is often the last sight I see in my window before I sleep. Upon waking it's the brilliance of drastic changes and possibilities reflected in the sky. The symbols of freedom, heritage and passionate, ever changing spirits.

From dusk onward the moon starts it's hidden path into darkness. That moon, unapologetic, shows off it's full face to the world, nude and resplendent without shame. Paradoxically, the moon allows itself to shrink into dark shadows. It leaves an air of mystery as it slowly circles inward. It's cycle comforts, hides and brings to light. It has witnessed darkness and light, shadow and sight. Yet, it never fails to show up in any state. The moon is a brave part of nature. A instigator of tides and schedules, but also a spiritual nature that causes chaos and moods. The moon just IS. From century to century it has witnessed the love and hate. It has shone down on lovers in the darkness and crimes of the centuries. It has anchored the earth and contributed to weather. It is steady yet not. A magical guide that is explored and scientific. A paradox. A beacon.

 The skies hold hope, steady inspiration within every changing circumstances, and wild freedom. Looking into the stars, following the moon path, gazing into afternoon sun clouds, or being enveloped by a heaven full of fluffy flakes steals breath from the lungs and pumps it back into the heart. From dusk to dawn, inspiration arrives simply by walking to my window and looking out over open fields and stretching skies. As Owl City croons so aptly, "Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere..."

An hour flew by when my husband and I snuggled on our front porch mattress, basking in the sun. My head was nestled on his chest and it reminded me of a song we used to listen to all the time, so I put it on repeat, as the soothing gait of McGraw filled the hush of a sunny afternoon. "Creek goes rippling by, I've been barefooting all day with my baby, Brown leaves have started falling, Leading the way, I like it best just like this, Doing nothing all the way, So let's lay down in the tall grass, Dreaming away,And all I wanna do is let it be and be with you, and watch the wind blow by, And all I wanna see is you and me go on forever, like the clear blue sky, Slowly, there's only, you and I, And all I want to do is watch the wind blow by."- Tm Mcgraw

One of my favourite pastimes and dates with my guy, is to drive in the backroads of the country. We find nooks that are ours alone to spend time how we please. We have found little ponds with cattle grazing, a buffalo farm nearby, and dips of almost impassable off roads filled with rocks and shrubs. There are no hidden cameras, GPS often does not work, and we are alone with nature. 

Nature is how, besides my relationships and inside my home, I find meaning in the hardest of times. My pain is often lessened by sitting for a few hours outside in the sunshine. Petrichor soothes as droplets hit the window pane. At night, if I am having a light attack of pain, I will make my way out to marvel at the stars, and hope to catch a glimpse of the wolf in the moon. I feel the protection along with the wildness. Nature is full of contrasts and paradoxes...just like me. It's deeply flawed and absolutely horrid at times, and YET it can be so breathlessly beautiful with raw intensity that one has to catch a breath. It is full of extremes. No climate suits my persona more. I love it and hate it at times when it can also be a source of pain. The beauty is a raw, real sort of haunting that reaches deep and latches it's roots down into the system of life. The inspiration rises from the dirt just like the Rockies rise from tumbled trees. The depressing aspects are wiped clean like the winds forming the HooDoos. I love these wild spaces . It’s the fairytale full of peril and majesty. It’s the garden where life began to teem with thriving beauty. It’s the simple cottage cultivated for comfort in the unpredictable landscapes of life. It’s a loving grandmas home where the freedom to roam is not only safe but rife with the spirit of wonderland. “You can learn a lot of things from the flowers... all in the golden afternoon.” It’s my place in this world yet also anyone else’s who cares to choose it- that individual collective seems to sum up the most sacred within all. 

*If you like John Stamos- his new show Big Shot on Disney Plus- is becoming a family favourite of ours. 

Song Choices: Golden Afternoon- Alice- Dianna Panton version is lovely.  Where the Green Grass Grows- Tim McGraw, Watch the Wind Blow By- Tim Mcgraw

Home. Being Canadian. Summer Solstice.

Midsummer sweetness is about savouring the celebratory aspects of life. Living to the fullest while acknowledging the life doesn't "owe" anyone anything- so the delights are that much more profound. Sometimes people or society ask us to hold back our fierce love of life and we silence ourselves or try to squeeze ourselves into tiny compartments of BEING. We forget it's our ONE life. Being grateful does not negate hardship. If we can, living fiercely is our best gift to LIFE. I try to find the ripeness in life, amongst health scares, oven fires, mini house fire scares, water furnace break downs, anxiety, world issues, weather conundrums, extended family struggles, marriage work and children's needs. Inside the energy of beauty, love, joy and the focus on the positive is where I want to aim to spend most of my mentality when I can. I will readily admit I am in a legitimate depression and struggling with some things, and at first, it took a lot of effort to do anything or see the good. But after a daily habit of the "next right thing"...I still work in energy deficit...but my ability to see the beautiful is getting more poignant and my fortitude to rise to the energetic occasion is taking less time. There is struggle. There is beauty. There is trauma. There is grace.

We all have different desires, meanings and relationships to celebrate. For myself: It's knowing my chosen partner is beside me every night and taking joy in his sleeping face and being in constant awe of his facial perfection. (Also trying not to be envious of his looks as he doesn't even have to try!)

The daily joy is found in the preparation for Summer Solstice Day! One of my favourite afternoons this summer was preparing Rosemary Gluten Free Biscuits, Herb Roast, Fruit infused Juice, and Summer Solstice cake with my children.

I have taken a hermitage lately. I am off of most social media (deleting apps and checking in only once a month for the summer.) My creativity has gone into overdrive again which it tends to do after built up stress or when I actually have more time to myself. I love the little things in life. I love gardening (especially with my roses), hugging trees, re decorating, dusting crystals, preparing baking, ordering solar lights online, shopping for groceries, snuggling my children, loving my husband and taking back roads empty for miles with the music blasting, walking to my parents for quick hello, visiting old and new friends via email or in person when time permits, and talking to kind costumer service agents. (That last one is weird but A LOT of my time lately has been dealing with costumer service in all industries due to break downs and orders etc and I am finding that I am enjoying many of the kind people which is another shock!)

I decided that we needed to build a few structures in our backyard including a stone wall. We had a bunch of free stone we need to use up so why not? Luckily my husband is excellent at literally building my dreams. I decorate, stain, and help with whatever parts I can and then read to him while he works. My children will participate in heavy lifting and learning how to use all the tools etc. I LOVE working together. My family may grumble at times but I think they mostly like it too. Probably not as much as me. People often ask me how I have fun. THIS IS MY FUN:

Since I discovered oil based paint pens, my eldest son ( he is my drawing artist) and I have a new list of things to do!

I also love my Seasonal Holidays. My sister usually joins us for the marking of these occasions. This time my mother and her crafted summer wreaths for her contribution to the feasting day. 

My mother knowingly joked that my house was too full inside/decked out that I had to move outside. Actually, that was exactly it. I wanted to decorate and I could not find a free space that I felt like changing, so I looked outside and thankfully it's a season where I can expand the magic. I now have five mirrors in my backyard. I love it!

We have had an unusual rainy season with loads of mosquitoes. Our town also experienced unusual winter kill on many of our trees and plants so working outside has been interesting! However, we have found work arounds and bits of time between weird weather patterns. The last few weeks I have concentrated on paint/ stain touch ups, solar light and rose maintenance, weeding, transplanting and creating a fairy land of differing traditions into our landscape. My husband found two maple trees on discount begging to be taken home so we now have our Canadian symbols sitting on either side of our front steps. I was so upset that our little pine trees died but the Maple trees are their own beauty. I am finding that what feels like a curse can often be a blessing and what can feel like a blessing sometimes is a curse. When my son woke to the sound of our water being pumped out of our water boiler, I thought curse. Turns out it was good it happened and we had a quick, fairly cheap fix in what could have been way worse. I love the town we live in and how each business is attainable, friendly and unconcerned about the Covid rules which do not make full sense or foster true kindness, but concerned for overall health of each citizen (which is how it should be.) It's such a beautiful aspect to just BE. (Of course hand washing and light social distancing happens but it's business as usual and many people are living out rich lives due to this mentality. We minister to the sick when possible and protect the innocent but still live.) My kids have had their friends over and are happily adjusting back to life in community.

Tomorrow is Canada day. I loved that DISNEY PLUS honoured it in their own small way:

Seeing the Maple leaf always makes me smile. I adore my country. Some say it is a country that lacks identity- but hasn't each country in history struggled to find their way in their first 100 years of establishment? When we are children we have in born identity but we also have much of our identity to discover, grow, and grapple with. But to give a child no sense of identity or to say they don't have one can be misplaced and dangerous. We need to remind children of the traits they show, while giving them the possibility and freedom to develop a sense of place within and without. While Canada may have some past mishaps and has it's own con list, overall, it is a place that has offered freedom to most who have sought it out. Most countries also have had to grapple with first discovers, Indigenous peoples, and the tricky nuances of that. Whenever I get confused, I just remind myself to treat everyone with respect and dignity, that there is essentially one people group- the human race- and it is essential that we all treat each other with that value. We need to rise rooted, even if we feel displaced or injustices have been done. We also need to reconcile and heal in our individual relationships. 

Canada is a place that gives wide open spaces and camera free drives for hours. The landscape changes drastically an hours drive away. There are gorgeous streams, mountains, prairies, and badlands. We are free to worship as we choose, school as we choose, and love whom we choose. Our businesses provide prompt service in emergencies or when our power or utilities go out. Our weather may be crazy and we may have 8 months of winter, but the seasons are that much more poignant. We have mostly equal opportunities for all who seek to work or BE. Our history has some injustices, and healing takes time. I do not have all the answers in that regard... but as far as country history goes, the years of remedying injustice equal out to far less than most other places in the world, some of which took centuries or more to change. This is also because we are one of the newest countries in that regard. Canada is still a baby. It's important to celebrate the good and the victories because if we only focus on trauma, pessimism and grief, anger and sadness and bitterness take prominent root. While all the above are legitimate emotions and phases in life, to stay inside them is a travesty too. Otherwise where is the hope? What is there to LIVE for? What is the point of healing if we can not grasp, in gratitude, the good while also making space for trauma healing?

My grandpa is Indigenous. He grew up with some racism/ discrimination. He went unjustly to jail for punching a man who committed a grave crime against my grandmother. Yet, he still loves Canada and what he was able to have in this country. He still respects the police force- he did blame the one bad cop, terrible guard, and the one discriminatory judge, but he liked many of the other friends on the force that he made during his time. (I do not know if I would have the same balance if I went through what he did but I admire it.) Does he have issues with some aspects and carry trauma from his experiences? Yes, but I love what he has taught me about the place that I live. I love that he still takes great pride in his country. It was an example of both the pros and cons of my country from a young age. He gave a realistic, sad glimpse but provided a larger story full of determination, opportunity, and work ethic for me to honour and cherish.

On Father's Day we stopped in to see him and my father, while providing breakfast for my husband's dad. These men all helped us become who we are today. We are thankful for their roles in our life. It is not always easy to see eye to eye on some aspects and we all have our histories, but there is great beauty in so many aspects of our relationships too. 

My dad cracked up when we gave him two trees, one of which was very Charlie Brown ish and my son serendipitously drew a Charlie Brown card (purely coincidence but my father noticed the similarities right away!)

I love that near where I live tacky dinosaurs are on Grocery store walls. I love that there is disinfectant everywhere but in most places there are also pretty lax rules again. I love that people are semi careful but also living, smiling and greeting each other again. I love that in one store I see people from all different countries, skin tones and abilities, being polite and kind to one another. It's not the exception but the norm. Cruelty is the exception. How are we shaping a better society if we maintain a dialogue that the majority are racists, cruel, bigotry, ignorant people? While it is a sad fact that some people do in fact struggle with these terrible states, look around the grocery store to see the diversity and respect. As Mister Rogers often stated, "Look to the helpers." Look around at the helpers and your faith in humanity may be restored slightly. Is that not a heart healthy perception? It's tougher to do, perhaps, and takes time and attention to notice, but off of social media, people are not all ignorant racists or uneducated bigots. Most people want other people to be treated with respect and kindness. Just be a good human being and circulate the conversations that install hope and beauty in the world, while compassionately dealing with the trauma that may come up in healing.



I love people but I struggle with people. Thus, I am hermiting into my surroundings. Because I see more good than bad with my own eyes, which is vastly different from what media/news is feeding me. I have had my share of strife, cruelty and personal differences in the last month, but I still see the beauty of the human spirit everywhere.

While we are seeing more people than we did for months, it is still with plenty of alone time in between. I am allowing myself to sleep longer, skip social stuff, and stay off world news. I am still detoxing. But good food, laughter, nightly tuck ins and fabulous birthday celebrations help.




Beauty is in the moment that my grandmother goes through her jewellery with my daughter and tries to hide her tears because she has a few more months to live. It's when they both lovingly touch each piece. Or when my daughter comes back home and bawls because she remembers Grandma wearing and cherishing it all and hates that she has to part with it now to get ready for her next phase of the life cycle. Beauty is in Grandma making sure each of her grandkids and her last living daughter have what they need for memories.

Beauty is my mother showing up with lunch ingredients on the last day of the month because our fridge and pantry are always empty on the last three day’s ( we wait for our cheque to put our bank account back up from forty cents till next month again.) It's her enlisting my daughter to help because she knows I had 4 hours sleep. They allow me to "blog rest" while they work.

Beauty is in my therapist sending me the poem "If" by Rudyard Kipling (*below) because it reminds him of me. He encourages me to frame it on my wall to remind me not to lose my both sides perspectives ,even if it gives me more grief from others...it's worth it for my life.

Beauty is in my family. Sometimes I forget to truly look at their faces. To notice the freckles, smile crinkles, gap teeth or pointy smile...all parts of them I love. Aspects individual to them that remind me of the fragility and strength of life.

Beauty is preparing my body and treating it as part of myself. It's allowing rest days but also remembering to adorn, pamper and even restrict at times for an outcome I wish to achieve. It's to see myself as part of nature. Beauty is to see my body as not just a vessel but a large aspect of the way I am in the world and to honour it.

Beauty is my window crystals always begging me to take a moment and stare. I watch them sparkle. I look beyond them at the ever changing sky. And I find that I am breathing deeply again. My eyes fill with gratitude. I can't seem to get enough and at the same time it is everything.

To my fellow Canadians: Happy Canada Day- Savour the parts of home you love! To the rest of the world: May you have aspects of Summer that bring you HOME.

Song Choice: Blossom- James Taylor  (This song has been on repeat lately. Love it.)

If...
Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son! 

(Written at a time when women were treated differently- luckily that has changed so just translate. Words still are amazing and sentiments.)