For me, writing is an act of reciprocity with the world; it is what I can give back in return for everything that has been given to me. - Robin Wall Kimmerer

Weep! Weep!” calls a toad from the water’s edge. And I do. If grief can be a doorway to love, then let us all weep for the world we are breaking apart so we can love it back to wholeness again.

When a language dies, so much more than words are lost. Language is the dwelling place of ideas that do not exist anywhere else. It is a prism through which to see the world. Tom says that even words as basic as numbers are imbued with layers of meaning. The numbers we use to count plants in the sweetgrass meadow also recall the Creation Story. Én:ska — one. This word invokes the fall of Skywoman from the world above. All alone, én:ska, she fell toward the earth. But she was not alone, for in her womb a second life was growing. Tékeni — there were two. Skywoman gave birth to a daughter, who bore twin sons and so then there were three — áhsen. Every time the Haudenosaunee count to three in their own language, they reaffirm their bond to Creation.

I think we need to re-member these ancient ways of living that are already there and reimagine ourselves in them. (Orion Magazine, 2021)