Where Hearts Can Meet on Orange Shirt Day

Entry #7 - Reflections of reverence from a former teacher in the north

Sep 30, 2024

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I believe in the power of our words. I also believe in their potency when we bring the timbre of our voice to them. So, in honour of Orange Shirt Day, an audio recording is included with heartfelt intentions of sharing through the sacred power held within the rivers of our voice.

Mo ghrá go léir / All my love,

Erica

Winter Treeline: The pathway amoungst my favourite trees in Sandy Lake, Ontario (and inspiration for the prose shared below).

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OF THE TREES

This haunting hallowed path has become my daily meditation.
Rooted in strength, love, and divine inspiration.
Where I have been reintroduced to myself,
in grateful celebration.

I dance among your branches. 
And sing the song of your soul, 
for I have uncovered the secret:
we are of the same soil.

You have become the mirror
reflecting what I’ve innately known. 
Shedding light on what was believed to be broken,
was, in fact, always whole.

And standing in your presence,
I have come to see 
That there is joy in every moment
When I allow it to be.

I have learnt that isolation is only present
When you are faced with the belief that you are alone. 
Yet standing on this planet, amongst your snowy shadow 
I know I am home.

I know now there is always light 
Among the tree line, 
The key is to move toward it,
Flowing with time.

I carry your strength
Imbedded in my heart; 
Knowing that as you bend 
And twist with the wind, 
I can move forward with the same art.

Thank you for gently guiding me to the surface.
Making me ever more present in daily life,
And reigniting a light, 
That now refuses to hide.

Míle buíochas, dear friends.
Until we meet again, mo ghrá go léir.
Agus mar sin atá sé.

The daily view of my walk into work while living in Sandy Lake, Ontario.

Where It Started For Me

I’ve never been good with good-byes or endings.

For me, writing has been a means of holding special life moments aloft in time.

I take to the page to share the sacred incantations of memories stirring within my heart.

During my final days in Sandy Lake, the words from ‘Of The Trees’ spilled across my screen. Each morning, I treasured my five minute walk through the bush to work. I would talk to the my favourite trees (sometimes without words) - and they would listen.

My time as a Grade 6 teacher in Sandy Lake First Nation, truly changed my life.

Since living in the north, and now nourished through my homecoming to the Irish language, culture, and land-based wisdom flowing through Éire’s rivers and stones, I continue to circle back to an understanding of: the deeply symbiotic relationship between land, language, culture, and one’s identity.

The annual Orange Shirt Day on September 30th opens the door to global conversation on all aspects of Residential Schools. It is an opportunity to create meaningful discussion about the effects of Residential Schools and the legacy they have left behind. A discussion all Canadians can tune into and create bridges with each other for reconciliation. A day for survivors to be reaffirmed that they matter, and so do those that have been affected. Every Child Matters, even if they are an adult, from now on.

‘The Story of Orange Shirt Day’. Orange Shirt Society [Website].

An Invitation for those us of Settler Heritage

Being of Irish and French ancestry, I feel Orange Shirt Day offers those of us of settler heritage the opportunity to hear and honour the stories and experiences of Indigenous people.

I also feel this is a call to action for us to continue the journey towards self-awareness, self-reflection, and self-responsibility regarding how we can live heart-fully, respectfully, and consciously as a non-Indigenous people upon Turtle Island, today.

Inspired through conversations over the years, I realize this starts (or continues with) our choices. Choices like:

Will you choose to educate and inform yourself? Will you take that course or workshop to learn about the colonial history of Canada and its effects on Indigenous youth, their families, and their communities?

Will you learn whose traditional lands or territories you currently live upon?

Will you spend time learning about or connecting with your ancestral history? What language(s) did your ancestors speak? What land did they call home? What songs did they sing? What stories did they tell? Will you take the time learn the history of your blood and bones; so, that you can be fully present when hearing and witnessing the experiences of others?

How then, will you choose to contribute to positive change living upon the land that you now call home?

In 2018, before leaving Sandy Lake, I recall a conversation shared with one of my students.

I can hear his voice as clear as day: “But, why are you leaving, Miss Erica?”

And, as my heart broke, all I could say was: “I really wish I could stay longer. But I feel like I need to go and learn some more. So, I can be better at listening and helping others. But you never know, our paths may cross again one day.”

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart

‘For Good’. Songwriter: Stephen Lawrence Schwartz

Since then, I have followed invitations to work alongside Indigenous youth, women, and communities across Turtle Island - and for each, I’m immensely grateful.

And while, I haven’t returned to Sandy Lake, yet; I still hope to, one day.

However, days like today collide with my heart. Days like today, I wish I could just jump on a plane to go north once more. Days like today, I wish I could reach out to previous students; to check in and wish them well. Young adults by now, they will be embarking on new journeys into the world.

So, while I wish I could offer these words in-person, I appreciate the opportunity to share them here.

Céad míle buíochas [a hundred thousand thanks], to the trees, the rooted and earthly grandmothers, that tended to me every day as I walked to work. There were many days, where I doubted myself. And each day you witnessed me.

Céad míle buíochas, to the parents, the community, and the leadership of Sandy Lake who welcomed me with open arms into their lives and upon their lands. Míle buíochas, for sharing your warmth, your laughter, your company, and generosity with me.

Céad míle buíochas, to the forty-nine students who shared their days with me. To this day, the prayer I carry upon my heart is that: may you always feel nourished and surrounded by love and support. May this find you happy and well.

Today, I dawn my orange shirt not only as symbol of my continued commitment to the enduring truth that every child matters, every day and every where1; but alongside my heartfelt prayer that you (and whom ever is in need of hearing it) may always know:

You are a gift to this world.
You are seen.
You are heard.
You are cherished.
You are loved.
You matter.
Every day.
In every way.

Mo ghrá go léir / All my love.

Being of Irish and French ancestry, I continue to be reverently grateful to the traditional spirits and land keepers [past, present, and forth-coming] of the unceded and unsurrendered territory of the Algonquin Anishinabeg People; upon whose lands I was born and currently reside.

Culture, language, and stories run within the rivers and are held within the stones of landscapes. Míle buíochas, a thousand thanks, for the opportunity to live, create, share stories, and walk alongside you.