Tag: #ahkamēyimok
Hope
HOPE.
That little light far off in the distance.
HOPE.
The light in the night sky.
HOPE.
I need to move towards it. That’s my hope.
It’s very dark.
My hope is a beacon in this darkness. I move closer still. My hope is getting brighter.
The darkness still surrounds. Yet I still see that light.
It burns brighter and whispers “I am here”
Hope
I move closer, I’m trying to reach out, trying to grasp a hold of the light in the darkness.
I hope.
Hope tells me “you are not alone” – Hope says “I am here. “
Suddenly, I realize that the light isn’t far away. Suddenly, I realize that the light was always with me. I just didn’t know that the light was always shining within me.
HOPE
Hope shines and it radiates out. It is light. The darkness is diminished. Hope is bright and it radiates from me.
Hope is love. I grasp a hold of my hope.
HOPE
Reflections on Grief and the Journey to Ones True Self
There is sadness within the people. This is deep inside and even though one maybe happy there is still an unexplained sadness that over takes them. It is sometimes diagnosed in the western world as depression but I think it is more that that. It is grief. This grief is profoundly deep. The wounds cut like a knife; it is a people’s grief.
This grief transcends time and experience. It is unknowingly passed down through the generations. We see it in the young people today. It is expressed through anger, gangs, and violence. The young people have suffered a loss but they are so unfamiliar with traditions that they do not know for what they grieve. We do not provide the tools to the young people because many of us do not know that we too are grieving.
Grief in its classical description points to a profound and significant loss in ones life. This loss would be a loss of culture but is also more than cultural experiences. It is a profound loss of spirituality. It is the connection to the spirit, to the Creator. This profound form of alienation has created a separation of the spiritual self from the physical self. It has caused the separation from the ability to grieve and recover. Elders will tell you to pray. This is the first step in reconnecting with self in the spiritual aspect.
It has been said by many different people of many different belief systems, that prayer is a powerful thing. That connection to the Creator allows you to begin your journey home.
When you pray you begin to adopt a feeling/attitude of respect. This is because you are praying to someone who is greater than you. You acknowledge that you are unable to change things on your own and you know that you need the assistance of a being greater than you. The Grandfathers and the Grandmothers in that spiritual sense would be Angels; beings that connect you to the Creator. When you ask for help and guidance you begin to change how you react. Your respect in prayer translates to your life. You begin to show respect to others as well as yourself. This respect further translates to respect for the earth who is liked to a mother because she provides for all her children, human and animal. Once this aspect of respect is recovered and learned the grieving process is started. Healing begins, and you are open to other lessons.
The sadness begins to lift. As you start your journey towards healing you begin to realize that the Creator has provided these experiences to you for a reason. You begin to realize that in every experience there is a lesson. It is simply finding it. Humility, thankfulness, love, compassion; all these experiences are brought forward. The profound sadness that once touched your life, the sadness that you couldn’t explain lifts. It sounds easier than it actually is because there are other processes involved too. There is forgiveness and letting go. This does not mean that you forget, it simply means that you treat others who may have done wrong to you with respect and love. If you continue to hold anger, hate (unforgiveness) in your heart it will continue to eat away at your spirit. Your spirit (soul) will suffer. You will believe that only bad things happen and that there is no love for you. The Creator loves all the children; the Creator forgives mistakes and wrongs. If you approach this life you have been given with love then situations will become easier to deal with.
First is respect, second is love. You cannot have love without also having respect. With love and forgiveness comes compassion. When someone deliberately tries to hurt you, you are able to recognise that his or her soul/spirit is in pain. Their pain is profound as yours once was. Therefore you treat them with respect, love and compassion. They will see that you have a new perspective and are able to treat them is a way that is right and honest. Your honesty may not be appreciated, depending on the depth of their pain. They may not be able to appreciate that you do not want anything, that you are not trying to manipulate them, that you are really and truly respecting them. Do not allow this to discourage you. You are living in truth. This truth is for your peace and balance and harmony not theirs. Your forgiveness is not conditional; it is for your own peace of mind. Bringing peace to yourself is a way to bring forgiveness to yourself as well as forgiveness to others.
The sadness may never be gone. In truth it may always be with you but it becomes a different kind of sadness. It is a sadness that you watch others still struggling with their pain. Pain is very powerful. It can rule a person’s life for many years without them even realizing it. You feed your pain by allowing hate and anger to consume you. You numb your pain by self-medicating through addictions be it drug, alcohol or lifestyles that you really don’t want to live. To release the pain, you must confront it with love and respect. These experiences have brought you to this place. It is up to you to choose where you will journey next. The Creator has given us this freedom of choice. You can choose love or you can choose hate. Freedom from the pain is through the acknowledgement of your loss. It is understanding your grief. Listen to the truth of your loss, speak to it, this sometimes means sharing your grief with others, sometimes it is through self-reflection and meditation. It is your journey and only you can decide where to go.
Madeline Belanger, March 2007 ©
An unexpected journey
I never thought I would face cancer but at the same time I’m not entirely surprised either. My family has had quite a few people who have had cancer, some have won that battle, others have not.
It was a strange day to find out that I have ovarian cancer. I found out on April fools day. Part of me half expected the Dr to say just kidding but in reality I knew it was true. I was shocked to say the least and dismayed because it felt like a “now what” kind of situation.
I know that lots of people go through this and a lot of people get angry. I can’t say that I felt angry. I felt a lot of different things but not anger. Other people felt angry for me and maybe that’s why I didn’t get mad. I actually felt calm because now I knew what had been causing me so much pain for the past 2 months. I knew there would be appointments and tests and probably surgery. I had been through that with my mother a few years earlier. At this point the most difficult thing for me would be to tell my children. I know they’re adults but they are still my children and my natural instinct is to protect them from anything that would cause them pain, fear and upset. This I knew was not something I could prevent.
We had a lot of tears, feelings of devastation and worries about what next. Unfortunately I ended up with cancer in the middle of a pandemic. So we had to practice social distancing when all I wanted to do was hug my kids. I was suddenly at risk of so many things and left wondering what all this meant. Wondering what the lesson was in this experience and how long would it be before I could hug my children and comfort them.
Unfortunately when you get sick in a pandemic all the traditional things people do to help you through a rough time cannot happen. I couldn’t go and hug my parents and cry with them. I couldn’t hug my children to comfort them. I couldn’t see my brother, my sisters in law or any other family. I couldn’t visit my friends and feel like everything would be ok because everyone said so. I had to build my resolve by myself with my husband as my cheerleader. Yes I still talked to everyone and yes they still encouraged me, however things would’ve looked very different if there was no pandemic.
My first visit to the Cross Cancer Institute my husband was allowed to come with me. We found out that there would be surgery as soon as possible and everything moved so quickly. My head spun with all the information and it was difficult to keep it straight.
When it came time for surgery no one could come with me. I had to have my surgery on my own. Previously my family had been there before to comfort and help calm my worries. My husband could joke and help me feel less anxious. My family had been there when I woke up and helped to ask questions and listen to what I was being told. Not this time. I cried by myself waiting to go into surgery, I groggily awoke to a very nice nurse asking me all kinds of questions. It was strange. I was sent home as soon as possible to reduce risk of exposure.
The second time I went to the Cross to get my official diagnosis and hear the staging of my cancer my husband was not allowed to be with me. I sat listening to the doctor talk to me. She was very nice but I don’t remember anything that she said. Its a good thing that she gave me papers. I had high grade serous ovarian cancer and was at stage 3B. If she explained this to me I don’t remember. She did tell me that I would have 6 cycles of chemotherapy and that it would start as soon as possible.
My first chemotherapy was 4 weeks after my surgery. I struggled with how to prepare for this. What does one wear to chemotherapy? Yes that’s a dumb thought but really when you think of it, its a genuine question. Do you wear long sleeves or short? Do you wear something in case you feel hot? What if you are cold, what if you have to be there for a long time, how comfortably should I dress? What will happen, how long will it take, step by step what do they do to you in chemotherapy? Is it like the movies? What do you mean there’s different kinds?
When I read up on it there was so much information that I didn’t really know what to make of it. When I was scheduled for my chemo I went to chemo school the day before. I wish it had been a week before because I feel I would have been better prepared for the chemo or maybe not.
I had decided to wear a ribbon skirt to my chemo sessions. I had talked to my children and to several friends and family members. We talked about how traditional healing ceremonies have certain protocols and I decided to treat the chemo sessions like a ceremony. I would pray and go into chemo with a calm mind, with a feeling of love and acceptance. I committed to making a ribbon skirt for each one of the cycles.
Then the first cycle of chemotherapy, my husband wasn’t allowed in with me, again the pandemic dictated how all this was playing out, for my own safety and the safety of others there. I really had a moment where I felt so alone. I felt scared and confused and I really didn’t know what was going on. I took a deep breath and I prayed again. I decided to listen to a song one of my uncles had recorded called the grandmother song. I had my eyes closed and was singing along in my mind when I realized that I did not feel alone anymore. I could feel my grandmother beside me. It made me feel better and I felt calm again.
After the chemo was finished we drove the two and a half hours home. The after affects of chemo are NOT fun, but I got through it. Just as I got through all the rest of the chemotherapy cycles. I tried to carry the ideas of ahkameyimok and kiyam with me through each cycle and each experience. Ahkameyimok is the idea of to keep going and not giving up, at least that’s my understanding of it. It wasn’t always easy and a couple of times I had to wave a white flag because I felt totally done. My family and friends would encourage me and cheer me on. My husband would remind me each day is new and a bit bettering. My understanding of kiyam is the idea of letting things go that are not good for you and understanding that it’s going to be alright. For instance when you can’t control something you let go of that need to control it and allow yourself to know in the end it will be alright, that what’s meant to be will be.
I’m blessed to have some wonderful people in my life and I am so grateful to them. They listened when I was down, they encouraged me when I needed it, they helped me when I couldn’t do something, they prayed and went to ceremony for me. They are a gift in my life. They helped me through this unexpected battle and reminded me to have hope. I was stronger because of the people in my life. They all gave me hope and trust. They helped to live by ahkameyimok and kiyam.
Hope is a powerful ally, I had so much of it. I was continually encouraged and felt so much better because of my cheerleaders and encouragers. In all that has happened since April 1st; the diagnosis, surgery, 6 chemo cycles and of course the pandemic, I am still here. The cancer is in remission and I am continuing to walk this beautiful journey. I have hope and am at peace. Ahkameyimok
Returns
I walked into the school my father once attended never knowing he had been there before. I saw the Nehiyaw culture every where I looked but I felt something there that was unexpected. I felt dread and emotion that I did not understand and I thought it was because this was a residential school.
I thought that because I knew this had been hallways and dorms
where children were brought,
where they did not feel safe,
where bad things had happened,
that this was the reason for my fear.
I walked down the hall to where the library now stood, where once a chapel had been. I felt dread and disconnected from the reality of where I stood. I left and felt glad to be shedding the feeling of this place. Perhaps it was all in my head.
I returned home and told my father where I had been and where I had stood. He asked me why would I ever go there. I said I was there to learn about its history and its place now, as it tries to return culture to the people it stole from. I said “you should come there with me some time. There’s culture and language everywhere.” He looked at me and in a shaky voice half shouted “I will never go back to that fucking place.” I was shocked and shook to my core. I did not even think about my dad being in school there.
I remembered then the stories he told, brief though they were, of the nuns and how mean they were in school. I paused and I questioned, “I thought you didn’t go to school there.” He said quietly “It was only two weeks.” I did not say anything else but I thought his reaction was too strong for only two weeks. I didn’t ask again.
I went back there…to the school of two weeks…wondering how this place connected to me and my history. How was it connected to the pain my family experienced and as if the school could read my thoughts, I could not find a way into the building. None of the doors would open although there were clearly people inside. Someone came out and I caught the door and went in. The same feeling of dread surrounding me as I walked down the hall. I went to meet the person I had come to see, unfortunately, she had been called away for a family emergency. I left the building and immediately felt better.
Twice more I came to the building and was shut out. Twice more I left without answers. Then I went to a ceremony being held on the school grounds and I prayed that my dad would feel safe enough to tell me something; I shed tears for him.
A few days later my parents called. They said “can you please come here, we need you to look at some papers.” I went to their home and my dad handed me a brown envelope; he turned and walked away. I sat down at their kitchen table and asked my mum what it was. She said its about the time your dad spent at residential school. I said oh. I felt emotionally flat. I said I thought it was only 2 weeks. My mum said “no its longer and they only know he was there because other people identified him”. The school otherwise had no real records of him.” I felt anger burn in the pit of my stomach but I also felt sick. I asked “how old was he”….my mum said “just read the papers.” So I did.
It identified his timeline as at least two years and two months. I felt sick. I asked “What does this mean” I felt bewildered and confused. My dad came and sat down next to me. He asked “what should I do?” “They want me to go and make a statement.” I asked him “Do you want to?” He was unsure, unsure if he should open old wounds, unsure if he should talk about it, unsure if it was safe to do so. We smudged and prayed and I went home with even more questions.
I knew my uncles and aunties had gone to school there, they had said. My Auntie told me that they didn’t learn to read or write, that they had learned how to pray and to know that they weren’t good enough. She said my uncles learned how to work farm jobs. My Kokom had told me that they had been treated worse than dogs and that everything was rationed, they had to make do. Yet I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t think my dad had gone to school there. I guess because he never really said anything about it and because he had a substance use disorder, it wasn’t something that every crossed my mind. Now I had more unanswered questions. I also knew why my dad would walk away when anyone talked about going to school.
My dad called me a couple of days later and said “I’m going to do it but only if you and your brother will come with me and please ask your friend Wanda to come with us.” I said ok. nothing more, no questions just ok.
The day came for the independent hearing and I was nervous. We smudged and prayed. I gave my dad the things my children had given to me for Mosom; rocks for strength and a letter telling him that they knew he would be ok.
I listened to my dad’s story, the terrible things that had happened to him, the fear he felt, the pain he experienced and how it impacted his life. He he had suffered from depression, anger and suicidal thoughts for years. How he couldn’t be the father that he wanted to be but how he wanted to be a better Mosom. He showed them the gifts the kids had sent for him. WE were all crying. I understood my sense of dread and fear connected to that place.
I heard his story and understood my father on a different level. I saw him as a child, who had survived a horrible experience. How his dependence on alcohol for so long had kept him from thinking about those experiences and how his years of sobriety had helped him tell his truth.
I continued to go to that school to participate in the ceremonies every year that are held there. I always asked him if he would come. He always said no until about 5 years ago when he said maybe. Then he came with me. He was nervous and scared. As we drove closer he talked about the evil of the place and how much he didn’t want to be there. I asked him “do you want me to turn around?” He said no. We arrived.
He had returned. My nephew, the youngest grandchild at the time, was with us. He took his Mosom’s hand and we walked towards the building. My dad walked up to the building, took a breath and walked in. He had returned to his place of terror. He could only get through the door but that was more than I had expected. I felt proud of him. My mum looked at me as my dad said I need to leave the building and my nephew walked out with him. They walked around the grounds and we gave them time. Then we left. My dad seemed somehow lighter as we left.
The return was powerful, as was the ability to choose to leave. He had gained some freedom and I told him he didn’t ever have to go back there unless he chose to again. My parents, my nephew and I have gone back only once since then to attend a ceremony on the grounds but never to the building. I doubt if he will ever return to the building now that he has freely walked away from it.
Silence
Silence,
It is deafening in its stillness and quiet
Kista?
Awina?
Neya.
I am silent.
I am mute.
What do I say?
These words are lost to me.
These words I should know.
Tapwe.
I should be able to speak but I am silenced.
The nuns and the priests they took away the language.
I heard it in my youth.
My father’s first language. He learned not to speak and to remain silent.
It is spoken to others, who also spoke…those not totally mute, not totally silenced but still they did not speak it to me. I am silenced.
Sometimes words want to come, not lots of words only some. Then fear takes hold and they go away.
I do not know enough language to get by.
I know a few words but still fear gets in the way so I remain mute.
Silenced.
The silence is deafening in its stillness and quiet.
Thanks to that school I am silent. I am mute.
Broken Bowl – The story of my bowl
The broken bowl, the idea is that we are all similar to bowls, we carry around with us the experiences of our lives and somehow we are able to put ourselves back together. This doesn’t always happen right away but it does happen. It is a process that we sometimes need help with and sometimes we are able to do this ourselves. I had thought of doing this project previously but had not stopped to take the time to gather what I needed. When my supervisor asked me if I would help her with it I thought that it was a good chance to try it out.
As we sat at the board room table painting the gesso on the bowls I was contemplating. I considered what I would put on the bowl, what would it reflect about my grief and loss. I thought about how my parents had separated when I was in grade 7. I thought about the addictions and violence that was in my childhood home prior to their separation. I thought about all the people that I loved and had since lost over time. All these experiences contributed to who I am, they have made me the person that I am and shaped the destiny that I have followed. I put these thoughts aside for a bit while I went back to my regular work day but I felt unsettled. I went online and looked at some quotes on grief and loss. Some were so depressing and some were way to “I shall overcome”. These experiences sat with me while I ran a group for self esteem and I continued to feel as though I needed to let go of some of the thoughts. I was glad to be able to start the project. I knew what I wanted to start with.
When I went to break the bowl and I had a difficult time to do this. I didn’t want to many shattered pieces; it was as though I didn’t want to have as many broken pieces of the bowl as there might actually be in my life. I also felt guilty breaking the bowl as it did represented part of me, I asked my husband to do it for me. I had to explain the idea behind the bowl and as always he helped me. I brought it back to the office to begin this process. I placed all the pieces out on the table and contemplated. Then I decided that the place where the bowl had been broken was similar to my heart. So I decided to paint a red heart around the hole. This was the start of a several hour process. I then decided that I wanted blue sparkle paint over the top of the heart and black sparkle paint at the bottom. The reason for the sparkles, without the darkness there is no light. The reason for the blue above is because when I feel sad I go outside, turn my face towards the sun, close my eyes and look up. The sky makes me remember that there is light when there is darkness.
Next I drew. I decided that it would be easier to draw what I wanted to paint. I decided at that point to draw like I was a little kid. So I drew my family. I drew my mom between two of the broken pieces because my mom was always trying to keep us together. It didn’t always work and if the power of love and her will could have kept us all ok, it would have.
I drew all of us holding hands because we always went everywhere together. Sometimes as kids we hated that, there were 5 of us kids and we all received the same amount, no one ever really got anything more than the other. We even used to divide a box of smarties between all of us and any extra went to my parents. I put my dad on the other side of us kids because of the separation and his leaving. On the same side as my dad I drew a house. We lived in a trailer that had green stripes on it.
We lived in Kikino Metis Settlement, so I drew trees because we were always climbing trees and outside exploring. I also drew the river because in the summer we would go swimming in the river almost every day with all the other kids on our road.
When I painted the sun it was high in the sky but underneath the storm clouds is a sunset because everything changed and my life living out of town and being free to roam around ended when my parents separated. The sunset is attached to the black because I thought I would never get over losing my home, the land that I used to run barefoot on and the freedom that I had.
My family continued to change and that broke my heart. It was like there was a huge hole in my heart and I thought everyone who met me could tell just by looking at me. I turned inside myself for a long time. It then felt strange to glue the bowl together again. It felt like I should be able to make it look the same and hide the cracks but I couldn’t. Then I remembered that my experience created who I am and it doesn’t define me. Its just a part of me.
Once it was time to paint the inside of my bowl this too was hard to decide what to do. There was a huge hole in the side of the bowl. I tried filling it with some of the pieces from the bowl and while it covered it up it didn’t change the fact that there was a gaping hole in the bowl. Then I saw a heart that I had been given by a stranger at the truth and reconciliation event in Edmonton. I decided that I would put that on the hole. This heart said compassion. I thought it was a reflection of how other people have helped me to heal and move forward as well as a reflection of self-care. So I glued it over the hole. I’m not perfect, I have healed some of my emotional pains but it will always be something that stays with me. I painted the inside of the bowl black and then turquoise. I then decided that although the cracks will always be there I have learned some things about myself and being resilient so I decided that I would use sparkle glue to make the cracks stand out but they are the same colour as the paint so its really only if you look closely will you have the benefit of seeing the beauty that comes from the breaks.
Finally I put 4 quotes into the inside of my bowl. These quotes both remind and encourage me. The first is written on the black teardrop in the center of the bowl. It says “The darkest of nights produces the brightest stars.” Again to remind me that even in the darkness I can shine. The next quote is “Sometimes in tragedy we find our life’s purpose.” This is because I became a counselor because of my experiences and I try to help others with theirs. The third is “It is perfectly okay to admit you’re not okay” This is to remind me that I also have to take care of myself. The last quote is personal and a quote by someone named John Graham. It says “I survived because the fire inside of me burned brighter that the fire around me.” This is to always remind me that I am alright and that I can be alright. In all the difficult situations that have happened in my life, I have walked through the other side.
What is your bowl’s story?
Sakaw Iskwew 