A combination of quotes from two different emails today on certainty. First from Ashley Cooper, quoting Daniel Sielgel:
“When we are certain we don’t feel the need to pay attention. Given that the world around us is always in flux, our certainty is an illusion.”
And then this, from Tenneson Woolf, who currently has my copy of Tsawalk: A Nuu-Chah-Nulth Worldview. From that books is this is a story of Keetsa, an Ahousaht whaling chief who runs into trouble when the space is no longer held for him:
Every protocol had been observed between the whaling chief and the spirit of the whale. Keesta had thrown the harpoon, and the whale had accepted it, had grabbed and held onto the harpoon according to the agreement they had made through prayers and petitions. Harmony prevailed, whaler and whale were one, heshook-ish tsawalk.
All of a sudden something went wrong, some disharmony arose, some disunity intruded, and the whale turned and began to tow Keesta and his paddlers straight off shore. Keesta took inventory. Everyone in the whaling canoe remained true to the protocols – cleansed, purified, and in harmony. Prayer songs intensified. Still, the great whale refused to turn toward the beach, heading straight off shore. Keesta and the paddlers had kept true to their agreements, and now there seemed nothing left to do except to cut the atlu, the rope attached to the whale.
Keesta took his knife, and as he moved to cut the rope, Ah-up-wha-eek (Wren) landed on the whale and spoke to Keesta: “Tell the whale to go back to where it was harpooned.” Keesta spoke to the whale, and immediately the great whale turned accourding to the word of Wren, the little brown bird, and returned to where it was first harpooned, and there it died.
After the whale had been towed ashore, Keesta discovered, as he had suspected, that the disharmony and disunity had intruded at home. When his wife had heard that the whale had taken the harpoon, she had roused herself and prematurely broken away from her ritual in order to make welcome preparations. At the point when she began to go about her life in disharmony from the rest was exactly when the great whale had begun to tow Keesta and his paddlers off shore.
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Farmed salmon are killing the wild runs of fish on our coast. Sea lice infestations now threaten almost all of the existing pink stocks that swim through the Broughton Archipelago. With the loss of wild salmon comes the loss of so much more, including the health of First Nations people on the coast. In the past 5 years a number of studies have been done showing that the diabetes epidemic that plagues First Nations communties can be managed by eliminating non-indigenous carbohydrates and relying more on wild foods. To allow salmon farming which is bringing wild salmon stocks to their knees is tantamount to denying First Nations communities access to their own health.
Time to decolonize the oceans and decolonize our bodies.
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Gila River Nation, Arizona
I’m here, being incredibly busy, working on the design team for the Food and Society 2008 conference for the WK Kellog Foundation. More about that soon.
On the way down here I was listening to a podcast of an addres by our former Governor-General Adrienne Clarkson that was produced for CBC Ideas (and which you can download for yourself here – mp3 podcast no longer available). In it she talks about how aware people about the relationship between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people. She tells the story of looking a room full of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people on thepraries somewhere and asking who in the rom are treaty people. All of the Treaty Frist Nations people raise their hands, but no one else. THe next question is obvious. If it is just First Nations people who are treaty people, who did they make the treaties with?
As a Canadian, do you think of yourself as a treaty person, or has it truthfully never entered your mind? What do you think your rights and obligations are under the terms of the treaties Canada has signed with First Nations?
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Taholah, Washington
If this article is any indication, the future of management will require more hosts and less bosses. Hierarchies are disappearing, top-down and centralized is giving way to distributed, and organizations are becoming more open and engaging of stakeholders.
That is true everywhere in my experience, including here at the Quinault Indian Nation where we are reframing the tribal government’s strategic plan in several unique ways. First we have established a core team of stakeholders from the government and community who are willing to take responsibility for stewarding the plan. Second, the core team has proposed a new strategic plan model that organizes work not by the departments and programs of the Quinault government structure, but rather by “domains” which are yet to be determined but may end up being things like “prosperity” and “learning.” Organizing the aspirations and preferred futures of the nation this way means that the government departments need to talk to each other and the community to move the Nation forward. And finally the new plan requires engagement with many many people, to bring in the wisdom and ownership of the community so that the plan is theirs. Tomorrow for example we will be hosting an ongoing cafe in the lobby outside the Nation’s general council meeting, where we will be hosting conversations with community members and capturing wisdom with a graphic facilitator.
As a result, our planning sessions are a combination of work and facilitation training because the core team knows that to do this means that they have to talk to people. So we are exploring how to convene conversations that matter and that have an impact.
How is the shift in management changing the way you plan strategy?
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Our words do create our road, singly and collectively. The manner in which we travel is determined by our attitude, by the attitude carried in our words.
And another line from that little essay: “we are all the same size, spiritually.”
[tags]joy harjo[/tags]