 For some Ioways the arrival of the First Thunders mean it’s time to be on the lookout for willows to renew our lodge. For me personally it’s also a time to recall the blessings and teachings of the previous year and renew a commitment to continue relearning how to carry out balanced interactions with all my relations- a traditional value and necessity for land-based people that is often easier said than done. It is also almost time to harvest nettles, morels, and await the arrival of the monarch butterflies on their seasonal migration through the wetlands. The Wakarusa Wetlands (or Haskell-Baker Wetlands) in Lawrence, Kansas have long been a place of prayer, refuge, and resistance. At a recent event in Lawrence, Haskell professor Dr. Dan Wildcat told a story of how the Kaw people (pre-contact) would stand in the wetlands and shout gratitude every morning, mid-day and evening. In the late 1800’s through the mid-1900’s the wetlands served as a place of prayer and refuge for children attending Haskell during it’s heyday as one of the primary Federal assimilation boarding schools. Today the wetlands still serve as an outdoor “classroom” where Haskell (now a 4-year university) students and community members learn traditional uses of plants as food and medicine. The Wetlands are also the Lawrence, Kansas version of an ongoing battle to protect sacred sites around the world.For the past 25 years the wetlands have been in the path of a proposed South Lawrence Trafficway, a six to eight lane highway that would skirt the south end of Lawrence. On the surface it is the same age-old debate between "progress” and "stagnation". But beneath the surface the wetlands case, like many other sacred site conflicts, is not just about opposing views of how a particular piece of land should be developed (or not), it is about differing ideas of how people relate to the land itself. Which is arguably a reflection of how we relate to all beings- plant, animal, and human alike. In June of 2004 I was on an annual trip with the Indigenous Youth Experience Council (IYEC) , a group of youth and elders from several tribes throughout the US and Greenland. The trips were organized to connect young men with spiritual leaders and traditional teachings through week-long outings on different tribal nations and traditional territories. This particular trip took us to the Navajo Nation and the nearby border town of Flagstaff, Arizona.  We met with the Forest Service with the mutual understanding
that the elder’s messages would not be constrained by walls, podiums, or time
limits. Instead we would meet
outside within view of the mountain and each of the elders would speak for as
long as they needed to share their message. They were there to share that although many of us were not from
the 13 tribes listed on their Environmental Impact Statement (EIS), as
inhabitants of this planet we will all be effected by the proposed resort
expansion. The impacts of
imbalanced relationships don’t acknowledge watershed maps or political boundaries. This meeting was part of a larger dialogue aimed at reshaping how the US Forest Service conducts consultations on Native American Sacred Sites within National Forest Service (NFS) lands. Through the Office of Tribal Relations (OTR), the current procedure requires only government-to-government consultation (ie; Tribal government to US government) The aim of this meeting was to continue pushing for a policy that would require the OTR to consult with spiritual leaders and traditional practitioners as well. This is based in part on the understanding that no government entity, Tribal or otherwise, should be expected (or entitled) to bare the full burden of speaking on behalf of all people, plants, and animals that live in their community. (see OTR Sacred Site Policy Review Update) We sat and listened to the elders in a drought-enabled pine-bark
beetle infested forest for nearly three hours. Meanwhile, about 100 miles to the southeast smoke billowed
into the sky from one of the region's largest forest fires in recent memory- another
result of decades of attempts to control and suppress the natural tendencies of
the desert landscape. As a visible
metaphor of the message the elders were sharing, the smoke from the fires drifted
downwind to the communities who had no choice but to deal with the impacts of
decisions they didn’t make. The elders say that when our relationships are out of balance the earth gives us a nudge- often in the form of earthquakes, droughts, floods, and other "natural disasters". If we don't listen the earth speaks louder and louder until we pay attention. These reminders aren’t acts of “punishment” us as some suggest, but are instead opportunities to re-evaluate, regain, then maintain balance in our relationships to each other and the earth itself. Today, communities across the Pacific are reeling from the impacts of the largest earthquake in Japan’s recorded history. Massive fish kills in Chesapeake Bay, thousands of red-winged blackbirds falling from the sky in Arkansas and over 5,000 earthquakes in Aotearoa since last September are all symptoms of an ecologically and socially imbalanced world. Whether you see these events as tangible impacts of climate change, natural cycles of the earth, fulfillment of prophecy, or a combination of these things the messages from our elders gain more credibility every day.   The concept of living in balance is central to the worldviews of most
Indigenous and land-based peoples.
It is a fundamental concept that enabled humans to live sustainably on
this planet for thousands of years.
Within that is the understanding that truly living in balance includes ALL
relations, not just those of your own species, race, or economic class. From urban farms in West Philly and Rio de
Janeiro to the streets of Libya and Wisconsin people are taking
steps to regain this balance within their communities. These responses not
only treat the symptoms
of imbalance, but also seek to simultaneously address the underlying causes of environmental
and social injustice as well. |
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