Treaty Sunrise
Sunset, sunrise. And in between, the world turns towards and away from the light. This summer, my world turned, as no doubt, did yours. One turn happened when I accepted a new role with Circles for Reconciliation. Raymond Currie, one of the founders, retired. In his leaving, I was asked by another founder, Ingrid Dowan, and a partner, Grace Schedler, to step into some new responsibilities: public advocacy and facilitation training.
Another turn happened, when my daughter and I made a habit of reading Aimée Craft’s book, Treaty Words for as Long As The River Flows (2021). The book tells of Aimée’s relationship to her grandfather and the teachings she received about Treaty. It tells of a time Aimée spent with her Mishomis by the river, around a fire, listening to his stories. Ajah and I read this book slowly. When we finish, we turn back to the beginning and start all over again.
Aimée tells of her grandfather’s understanding of the first Treaty. In the words of her Mishomis: “it was a partnership between the earth realm and the sky realm. With the help of Creator, our grandfather sun and grandmother moon agreed to work together with our mother, the earth, to create life. Then other beings of Creation were placed on the earth and in the sky. We humans, Anishinaabe, were the last to be placed here. This is why we refer ourselves as younger brothers and sisters to the rest of the beings in Creation.”
Jacob, Bonnie’s son, on a beach in Costa Rica.
When I bring my new work with Circles to my constant work of being a Treaty person, I am moved by Aimée Craft’s telling of her grandfather’s wisdom.
When I take in the Treaty gift of sunrise and sunset, I notice three things:
First, I almost always gasp with the beauty of colour and scope; the exchange between the earth and sky as the intense spill of colour emerges from light.
Second, when my cloud system doesn’t give me the colours of a sunrise or sunset, that Treaty gift unfolds somewhere, on some landscape.
Third, I can stumble in my day, regret my way with my kids, wish that this or that wouldn’t have happened, and without my asking or begging or hoping, the Treaty gift of sunrise and sunset happens regardless.
The beauty in Treaty, the scope and breadth of Treaty, and the givenness of Treaty: as a Treaty person, I don’t make up the rules, or dictate who is in and who is out or give out or receive treaty awards for the smartest or most politically aware.
What I learn from Aimée and her conversation with her grandfather: Treaty ways weave within a human being simply by being on mother earth, beneath her sky, dependent on her water. We belong to Mother Earth, and in our belonging we live inside the rhythms sustained through her treaty ways. In Craft’s words, with respect, reciprocity, renewal. When I say I am a Treaty person, I say, “I belong to those rhythms”.
As I step into this new work with Circles for Reconciliation, I want to step with the humility and gratitude for how the earth and sky hold me. Maybe, just maybe, I can find my path of reconciliation, born of the courage to speak and listen to each other’s truth, built from the patient walk, step by step, alongside each other. One thing I will know for certain, as I walk this road, the day will always begin with a sunrise, and it will end with a sunset. And it will be up to me how I want to live inside the day given.
From Aimée Craft’s book, Treaty Words:
“Her Mishomis spoke again, in a softer voice:
‘The Creator also showed us how to remember. By having the sun rise every day, the earth and the sky are renewing their commitment to work together. And we, in turn, honour that relationship and directly benefit from it.
“She knew that for the rest of her life she would come to this river to remember the original treaty relationship and the deeper meaning of respect, reciprocity, and renewal:
For as long as the sun shines, the grass grows, and the river flows.
