Medicine Wheel Teachings
Personal Blog
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I don't know how not to bring all of me with me everywhere I go. Everything that has ever happened to me is in here, in this chest, in this body. It has nowhere else to go.
Without me, it doesn't exist.
Every person, every moment, every hurt, every joy, every trauma, every conversation is inside me and I bring it with me into every interaction.
With every breath, I am breathing the moments of my life, again and again.
Every touch, every heartbeat, every shared moment of friendship, of laughter, of love.
you are here in this space where God lives, where my breath becomes life.
How do I not take that with me? and how do you not also take me with you?
We live as if hearts can be mended.
We live as if we'll live forever.
We live as if nothing is a miracle and when we lay our head down to die, we regret having missed so many things, we wonder where the time went.
I live it and breathe it and feel it every day.
All of my life, for as long as I can remember, my blessing and my curse
Poets and artists and dreamers speak of pain. pain as pure as joy.
in the beat of the heart at night, surrounded by ghosts and shadows and all things unholy.
The pain of a thousand lifetimes, the pain of every lost opportunity for kindness or love, the pain of every crumple or tear in the dress worn by the little girl inside, who looks for something, someone, to tell her she is okay. To tell her she is lovely and worthy and whole, but no one does and she can’t hear it anyway.
and the fiery wings of something magnificent, like a phoenix or some other cliche. a phantom, and this woman rides on its back.
this woman who carries her ferocity and vitality and charisma on the soles of her feet because to see it, to look straight at it, would make men fall to their knees and weep at the power in the flecks of gold in her eyes.
this capacity for strength and courage and honesty and love
is met always and equally with this capacity for weakness and cowardice and dishonesty and fear.
to make sense of all that i am and all that i’ve lived and all that i feel is impossible and too exhausting to consider. we, each of us, has a million tiny universes swirling around inside our consciousness, every second of the day, and we wonder why we’re tired. We wonder why we work too much or drink too much or escape into technology.
to look into the darkness, to see it and feel it is too terrifying to fathom, like the bermuda triangle or something.
To feel so deeply and to know who you are when I look at you and knowing that you don’t see what i see is the greatest tragedy of all.
its as if you’ve forgotten everything.
It's Just a Tiny Universe
Being Indigenous in Academia
I feel as though I am attempting to learn how to breathe underwater. The greatest lesson I am learning through this process, is how far from whole that I actually feel.
The only language I speak, write and understand is English. I do not recall ever learning a single Cree or Coast Salish word as a child. The language of my ancestors was so successfully smothered from the breath of my family, that I have had no awareness of its deprivation from my life. I want to convey my experience, but I cannot from the confines of a colonized language within the walls of a colonized institution. My frustration and confusion has overwhelmed me to the point I want to resist the expectations of western scholarship so totally, that I am sure, the words I write would become so obscure and unintelligible that I would wind up cutting off my nose to spite my face.
Coming to the realization that the language of my ancestors was not a part of my development, I must acknowledge that this fact alone, makes me feel less Indigenous; it makes me feel as though, I am once again playing ‘Indian’, rather than actually reclaiming that I am an Indigenous woman of the Cree and Coast Salish nations.
How do I express to you in English, that my heart feels broken? How do I convey the energy behind the feeling in a language that has taught me that my ‘otherness’ as a Cree woman has made me worth less than the white man who lays beside me? How do I expose to you as a white woman, my frustration at not being native enough; for looking too white; for not knowing how to speak any language but English; for not knowing how to fancy dance or to sing at the drum, or the protocols for doing so, or even how to bead a cover for my Bic lighter just so I can say that I did it myself? How do I write those words with my white-looking fingers, or speak those words with my white-looking, female lips and have you take them seriously?
This is the genocide of which you speak, the holocaust of creative sovereignty and critical thought. I, so utterly feel this loss straight to the marrow of my bones that there is some sort of tragic eloquence to the unraveling of everything I thought I knew about who I am and where I come from.
How do I use all that I have been taught from my western education without reducing all that I am learning from my Grandmother, to just another fable from an illusory, yet simple-minded Indian? And how do I do this in the language that colonized the authenticity of my experience in the first place?
Musings of an Indigenous Writer
Examining the power of words while working with the Medicine Wheel is vital. The English language is one of colonization with Indigenous history embedded within. It is vital to explore, not only the history of words, or their effects, but to also explore how this acknowledgement can be flipped on its head to decolonize the language. I do this through the teachings of the medicine wheel by examining some of the ideas found within it; these ideas, which are not meant to be kept in the abstract, but applied to one’s own life in order to achieve wholeness and peace of mind, body and spirit.
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As a former student in the school of communication, the theories of media, mediums, semiotics, discourse, rhetoric, structuralism, myth and the overall consideration of the power of words were fascinating to me. These ideas made the world come alive and put the beat into my heart. I found myself, for the first time, seeing more clearly so much of what I had felt through the years. All of a sudden, I realized that I was not alone in my frustration of perceiving things that others could not or would not. I realized that there was an entire discipline dedicated to it and that it was included in the social sciences. It was a miraculous moment for me and I had found myself a home in this school of knowledge.
My challenge in writing as an Indigenous student was that I was also an academic who has been passionate about western theory and I enjoy the practice of academic writing. I am good at it. I am also good at telling stories and writing poetry. I struggled to bring these together as I am not only one or the other, I am both; I am many.
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In order to accept wheel medicine in the fullness of its teachings, it is vital to explore the power of words, and the ways in which words make manifest ideas and experiences for those who absorb them. Semiology acknowledges that shapes and sounds turn into concrete objects, and concrete objects turn into symbols; from these processes, myths abound which is why critical analysis of word power is necessary, particularly with respect to Indigenous writings and teachings. This is to avoid obscuring Indigenous knowledge with westernized cultural myths embedded within the English language.
Colonization and patriarchy are inherent aspects of Indigenous knowledge and experiences, therefore an assessment of the effects of these overarching systems on resultant teachings of the wheel are required.
I have found that Indigenous knowledge which is shared through the English language or any language that is not of our original tongue, is paradoxical by virtue of myths found within language. Myths exists within language because the history which enabled the myth in the first place, has been removed in order for the myths prolonged signification (Robinson, 2011). However, the fact remains that all Indigenous knowledge that exists within the framework of the English language stipulates that the history which colonized language, is inherent and absolute. I believe this is what makes Indigenous writing, academia, knowledge, teaching, experiences, feelings, ad infinitum, so challenging to communicate within the network of the English language.
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As an Indigenous woman, it is impossible for me not to feel the inadequacies of a language that does not inherently reflect all that I am as a being. I am more than the thoughts, which become these lines and squiggles on a blank piece of paper. I am a cacophony of thoughts, feelings, experiences, senses, dreams etc. I am my physicality, my brain, my breath, my heartbeat. I am my spirit that dances to inspirations and appears as goose bumps and tingling flesh or as tears in my eyes. I am my emotions, sometimes overwhelming and often retrieved, processed and purified through the things I create with my hands or my voice. I am many things, that which words cannot always convey, which is why art and music and laughter and silence are as important for expression as anything words alone can provide.
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I have also felt the pressure to present my writings as ‘Indigenous’. I admit, I don’t know what that means. I cannot allow myself to be pigeonholed as one or the other; 'westerner' or 'Indigenous'; as ‘white’ or ‘red’. I am, like the medicine wheel teaches, all things; all colours. I will present my work and my writings in such a way that reflects all that I am and all that I have become as a student, an Indigenous person, a westerner, a woman, a poet, an artist, a granddaughter, and often a confused yet curious and wonderfully complex human and spiritual being.
Words Have Always Had Power
The power of words has been understood for thousands of years. It has been taught by religions, world and spiritual leaders and it can be read about in books and seen in movies. In this article, I include a variety of people, places and things that demonstrate the universality in the belief that words have power. I am establishing that this idea has been validated across time and space, across cultures, religions and races. There is an inherent belief in the human experience that understands the power that words carry within them. The words we use and the significance we allow them to have in our lives, have the power to hurt or to heal.
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There is a story in the bible, Mark 11: 12-25, whereby Jesus curses a fig tree, (12) “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.” And his disciples hear him say it.” Further into the story it says, “(20) In the morning, as they went along, they saw the fig tree withered from the roots. (21) Peter remembered and said to Jesus, “Rabbi, look! The fig tree you cursed has withered!”
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This parable demonstrates the power that Jesus’ curse had on the fig tree. My interpretation of this is that we have to be mindful of our words. After they are sent out into the world, they cannot be taken back. Our words have the power to destroy.
I, myself have had the experience of an emotionally and verbally abusive intimate relationship and when such abuse occurs, there is an inner crumpling that takes place; a withering, just like the fig tree. After this withering has happened, it is very difficult to begin to grow again. I continue to carry the effects of this damage and it has affected every aspect of my life. This in turn, affects the lives of every person I come into contact with, which demonstrates the ripple effect of harmful words upon another.
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As a side note, I would like to point out that my use of a biblical example straight off the hop, may evoke a strong guttural reaction in any who may read this. This is intentional as it speaks to the very power that I am discussing. When my grandmother begins her medicine wheel teachings, she wants participants to become aware of such reactions within their bodies. This is the purpose of understanding the power that certain words have in our own lives.
The name ‘Jesus’ and the word, ‘bible’ carry an enormous amount of history, and for many of us that history is violent. But I challenge the reader who reacts, to recognize that there lies within themselves, things unresolved. Perhaps it is anger, sadness, betrayal, trauma or simply cynicism and resentment. Whatever it may be, that feeling in your gut is asking to be healed. This is why the power of words are such an integral part of wheel medicine, because it uncovers unresolved pain. The Medicine Wheel wants us to be healed of this pain, so we can be more effective in our lives. The wheel wants us to be peaceful and free.
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Gautama Buddha has been quoted as saying, “Words have the power to both destroy and heal. When words are both true and kind, they can change our world.”
Yehuda Berg, author and Co-Director of Kabbalah Centre International testifies that,
"Our words have the power to change destinies, both our own and that of others. Often, we throw around words in jest or perhaps in anger that harm and hurt and create long lasting damage. If we understood the seriousness of what we were saying we might never say it. Words have power and they have energy that we put out there into the minds, and thoughts of our children, our friends, our mates and our peers. If we are in a position of leadership where our words create policies we have to be sensitive and diligent. If we were handling a bomb which could go off at any minute as a result of our actions, we would mind ourselves and be delicate. Our words have the same power yet we wield them around as though they were powerless and insignificant" (Berg, 2010);
The Quran says, “Tell my bondmen to speak that which is kindlier. Lo, the devil sows discord among them. Lo, the devil is for man an open foe” (Quran 17:53).
This belief in the power of words extends much farther than religion, but has been expressed by many people in many ways. The phenomenon of the book The Secret, for example, discusses the law of attraction. In it, it says, “Thoughts are magnetic, and thoughts have a frequency. As you think, those thoughts are sent out into the Universe, and they magnetically attract all like things that are on the same frequency. Everything sent out returns to the source. And that source is You” (Byrne, 2006, pp. 10).
This speaks to an important aspect of the Medicine Wheel, which is the gift of our mental abilities. Our thoughts fall under this category. Thoughts come to us in words or images. As The Secret has suggested, our thoughts attract either what we want or what we don’t want into our lives. This speaks to the power of words, because as I use the phrase, “the power of words” I am including all cognitive processes. Thoughts, just as the spoken word, also have the power to hurt or to heal.
If I consider my own inner dialogue, I am at once struck by its power in my life. Like so many of us, I am my own worst critic. When I am mindful of my thoughts, I hear their judgements. It is a continuous stream of blame, guilt, shame and doubt. I am never quite sure of my own footing. I continually think that I am disappointing others and failing myself. When something or someone validates the positive aspects of my being, I am surprised and doubtful.
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I was the recipient of a large entrance scholarship through my university, and my first thought was, 'what’s the catch?' I didn’t believe it because I thought myself unworthy. I had to read and reread emails, do research and spend time convincing myself that I had actually earned it, worked for it and was worthy of the honour.
This type of thought pattern in turn, affects all other aspects of what makes me who I am. Physically, I become tired and unmotivated. Emotionally, I am unable to fully connect with others or to allow myself feelings of true happiness, joy and comfort. Spiritually, I am unable to fully bring myself to my Creator because I know that I think of Creator’s creations as unworthy of love and grace. However, when my thoughts about myself, my life and the world are in a place of gratitude and surety, I am much more likely to approach the world in such a way that welcomes experiences that ensure even more gratitude. I walk with confidence, joy and an inner knowing that everything that comes to me or happens to me will be in my own best interest. I can live with acceptance and faith, and these thoughts and attitudes bring me in balance. Therefore, I receive medicine from the wheel in all its embodiments.
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Other examples of literature that demonstrates this idea are The Book Thief, “I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.” (Markus, 2007, pp. 528);
The Thirteenth Tale, “There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.” (Setterfield, 2006, pp. 8); and
The Name of the Wind, “Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts” (Rothfuss, 2007, pp.672-673).
In A Recognition of Being: Reconstructing Native Womanhood by Kim Anderson, she discusses the importance of storytelling for Indigenous people as a means of resistance. “Indigenous stories are significant because they are anchors of resistance. They are also ways of preserving the language and the power and meaningfulness of the spoken word. Our stories are unadulterated version of our history and creation. They are critical for Native people who seek a sense of identity founded within Native culture” (Anderson, 2000, pp. 131).
Oral tradition for Indigenous people is as vital as air. It has been the thing to sustain language, culture and autonomy. It teaches children about themselves, about who they are as well as providing important lessons of what to do and what not to do. It provides knowledge keepers, particularly women, with the opportunity to reclaim their roles within the community. It acts as a form of resistance because it enables us to rebuild and reclaim who we are at the most essential level, that of our spirit and of our Selves.
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As I write these words now, I am struck by the simplicity of pouring all that is in my heart out onto this page. How simple, yet powerful words can be when used for the purposes of, not only healing, but to propel myself forward in the parts of life that are important to me such as my education. As long as I can remember, I have been using words scribbled on a page in order to get out all that was a muddled mess inside of me. Not much has changed over the years, as that is what I do now as well. Words. Words are the power that make it so.