What has this year’s Two Row on the Grand meant to me? I would start with learning about and re-contextualizing relationships between those who lived here for thousands of years and those who later arrived in tall ships. The treaties which First Nations peoples have held to (in many cases coming to their partners’ defence against rivals at great cost, from the American Revolutionary War through the World Wars; while their European partners gradually ignored more and more of the agreements as soon as it was convenient). I’ve heard a variety of voices about what should happen now- ranging from necessary education in Canadian schools, to acknowledging and paying restitution for debts owing, to somehow figuring out how we can come back into right relation with each other and with creation/nature. By no means is this simple, but it feels along the same lines as realizing our household has been spending beyond its (ecological/financial/social-capital) means for a long time, and while it would be nice to keep our head in the sand, we know we’re headed for ruin if we keep it up. There might still be ruin; there might be collective recovery of some kind. We won’t know until we try. That’s my take on this, at least.
Along with others who spoke of the same, I’m bringing home with me a sense of grace. Unearned, palpable, partly conveyed to me by Spirit and Nature; partly through the words and actions by our hosts from Six Nations. It’s hard to articulate, exactly.
More than last year, I really get what our head paddler Ellie speaks of when she called us a “paddle family.”
I know many people who have “families of choice” - a term I first learned from my LGBTQ friends in the 90s, amidst condemnation from some peoples’ families-of-origin. Friends being disowned for coming out, or discovering that the price of relationship with family-of-origin was more painful than cauterizing the wounds and getting away. Survival and growing and healing through not just friendship but building family. Over the years I have also experienced a similar deep relationship within my faith community. I believe in community, and believe I’m better in community than as an individual. However, I (and I know many others) generally live in such an individualistic frame of mind, perhaps outside the immediate small family. Where it’s rude to ask anybody for substantial help if it’s not a transactional exchange, or to accept help outside of very limited contexts. Where we’re not responsible for anyone but ourselves. This is certainly part of what’s broken in (many of) our western societies, and it’s tied to our addictive environments which are in turn further encouraged by our market-based capitalist cultures. I think lots of us see how this is broken, but don’t know what to do about it.
On the Two Row paddle, we were rooted each morning in the Thanksgiving Address, the words which come before all else, where the speaker is humbly grateful for every part of creation and our relation to it. Every day’s address was a bit different, but gave me a distinct sense of connection and sense-of-place, a feeling of relationship with the natural world which of course includes other people. We’re tied together by responsibility, each of us fulfilling the roles we were made for, whatever those might be. We certainly aren’t as independent as modern western culture says we are. I take this reminder home with me.
And on this paddle, we certainly relied on each other as we made the 145 km trip downstream. We had good models and examples in our leadership, who stressed the importance of inter-reliance, offering help where it might be needed, and asking for it whenever we needed. Sometimes both at the same time.
By design, we were also taught a lot. Every day had a planned program led by experts, some visiting and some paddling with us. Toward the beginning the program was mostly information-based, such as Cambridge “rare Charitable Research Reserve” speaking about this area’s history going back to the last ice age, featuring archeology and artifacts along the Grand. We had an interpretive hike and information about the plants and animals found here, with encouraging facts such as 60 years ago the river was highly polluted and in 2000 it won a European prize for cleanest river; and sensitive species are returning such as badger and barn owl. We had a tour of a 17th century replica Mohawk longhouse, learned Mohawk singing, and an evening of social dancing. We gradually shifted to more trust-based teachings- including a Blanket Exercise that raised challenging but important truths for non-Indigenous participants, a circle discussion on white privilege, and a deeply meaningful role-play about “the soul’s journey” from one Indigenous perspective. In and between, we had teachings from a community elder thohahoken Michael Doxtater about Mohawk language and life, oral history of the Two Row Wampum agreement, the adoption of Canada into the Longhouse of Many Nations in 1869 (a thoroughly fascinating history which we heard in an address before Brantford City Councilors), a variety of Haudanasuasne inventions including chemical warfare (burning poison ivy vines to cause chemical burns to invaders’ lungs) and a movement/meditation practice with hundreds of years of history which looked a bit like tai chi.
In short, I feel like I’ve gotten a crash-course in Haudenosaunee culture and history, along with personal connections and conversations, so how could I fail to have one “aha” moment after another?
As I re-read this, I know I left a lot out, of personal connections and stories I want to remember, but I’m not sure they belong in a facebook post. They might be stories to share around a fire, or some other circle once I’m sure they’re mine to tell.
