What the Elder Saw

My family is mixed Mohawk, English, and Irish with a little Scottish thrown in for flavour. My Dad's parents hail from the Emerald Ilse, meaning that he and I hold the much desired red passport despite having lived our lives in Canada.

I won't go into great detail about my journey to understand my Mohawk heritage. Due to Canada's legacy of colonialism that culture was kept from me for a long time, and the kids I grew up with held biases too strong to understand that I had a connection to First Nations culture (dratted blue eyes doing me dirty).

Rather, I want to tell a story about my first meaningful experience with an Elder whom I secretly suspect of being magic. (This is mostly a joke... mostly)

During one of my summer student terms with the Canadian Government, I attended a day-long conference targeted at Indigenous (First Nations, Inuit, and Métis) students. At this event, as with many in the government, an Elder was present to give a traditional welcoming and officially open the day. I don't remember her name, but she was Mohawk from the Bay of Qunite. Which is my home community.

Throughout the speeches and presentations, she would wander around the hall with an eagle feather fan, smudging as she went. (Author's note: a smudge is an Indigenous North American (it might be other places too) spiritual cleansing using the smoke from tobacco, sage, cedar, and/or sweet grass.)

At the lunch break, I approached the Elder and introduced myself. I asked for a moment of her time and explained my situation and experiences and asked for guidance. This is one of the roles that Elders perform: spiritual/life guidance.

We spoke at length about myself, my identity, and my weak connection to my culture. Finally, she offered to perform my first smudge and teach me how it's done so that I can carry it forward. I accepted and she showed me the way, explaining the reasons and the steps.

Different communities smudge in slightly different ways. The exact order operation is not extremely important, but it goes like this:

Fill the vessel (traditionally an abalone shell) with your chosen medicine (from the plants mentioned earlier or others if your community/tradition includes others) and light it on fire. Allow the fire to flare briefly, then blow it out so that the medicines smolder in the shell. From there, if you're doing it alone, wash your hands in the smoke so that they do noble things. Next cup your hands and draw it up over your head to cleanse your thoughts. Bring the smoke to your eyes to see through lies and bias. Waft the smoke by your ears to hear truth and good council. Touch the smoke to your mouth to speak only good and honest things. Grab the smoke and hold it to your heart so that it might guide you true. Then waft the smoke down your legs so that they might carry you to positive actions.

If you are smudging with someone to help you, then turn counter-clockwise (the Mohawk way) and have them fan the smoke over you from head to foot. When they're done they will tap you on the right shoulder and you'll turn counter-clockwise again to face them at which point you say "Nia:wen" (It means 'thank you' and is pronounced 'nya-wa').

Some people also smudge objects. In this specific circumstance, if you have something important to you or your life (read: glasses, a cane, a wheelchair, etc.) you may put them in the smoke as well.

This was an incredibly important experience for me, and it represents a critical connection for me to my maternal culture. But what I want to talk about specifically, now that the context is out of the way, is what happened at the end of and after the event.

Our final activity was for all of the students to stand in a circle and receive a blessing. First on the agenda was a large bowl of smudged (read: blessed) strawberries shared out to us since food is a critical part of Indigenous Ceremonies And strawberries are important to the Mohawk specifically. Next was the blessing itself.

The Elder walked slowly around the circle and performed the blessing with a deer antler (this had gone through ceremony (read: made sacred)) and the reaction of the students was varied. I can only imagine that their response was either instructed, or represented their home Nation's traditions.

Many of them bowed their heads and the Elder would touch them with the antler. Others grasped it in their left hand (closest to the heart) just below the Elder's. Still others did things I don't fully remember or completely understand.

When it was my turn, however, something unique happened.

Standing in front of me, the Elder pressed the antler against my sternum with the points digging into my chest. Her eyes were locked on me, intent and searching. My response was pure instinct, I squared my shoulders and leaned into the antler, responding as though to a challenge. I all but glared at her, and after a moment of impasse, she grinned at me, nodding in approval - I imagine I passed a test - before moving on.

Now, I must here say that I have neither religion nor faith. I take no issue with people who do, but I don't. Determined moderate that I am, agnostisism has always served me well. But I felt something that day, something I don't understand and can't fully describe.

But, something else tangible did take place.

I used to play Canadian Rules football (Older than the American game, invented at McGill University in Montreal circa 1870) and during my final season I broke my sternum. Really, after 6 years without major hurt, I was lucky. And it's hurt on and off ever since. But that day, the antler, the ceremony, or the placebo effect, took that pain away for hours. It had flared earlier in the day and then, was simply gone. I barely even noticed its going.

After that, I approached the Elder to thank her again for teaching me. For accepting me. For advising me.

What she said still lingers in the corners of my mind, surfacing on occasion to raise slightly uncomfortable questions. I can still remember it so clearly, as though I had only just walked out of the event hall.

Turning from a different conversation, her smile slowly dimmed on her lips as she looked at me. Then regrew, as though she were finally putting the last piece into place on a puzzle. Grinning, she said to me, "you're going to be great. And the next time we meet, you're going to tell me what you truly want, and who you want to be."

Exactly that question, what I want and who I want to be, is constantly on my mind. At the time, I brushed it off, thought it was almost funny. But it's been growing on my mind. Who am I? And what do I want? Am I a government worker, or is that just what I do? Am I a writer, or is it just a hobby?

Some questions, you see, are not helped by a degree in philosophy. I wonder if I am what I do, or if identity is separate. I wonder about what it means to want and how desires change and grow or fall by the wayside. I think about the inevitable march of time, and how, in tiny increments, the time limit to answer these questions inches closer.

Other times, my writer-brain wanders down the paths of what if. It questions what the Elder saw when she looked at me. Why she stabbed me with a deer antler, and why she looked triumphant when I squared up in response. What did she see when she looked at me?

I like to imagine that she saw me, ready to fight the challenge I perceived in her message, standing between the forepaws of a ghostly wolf. A protector ready to conquer any challenge to his pack or home. We are Mohawk, after all. The People of the Flint. The Keepers of the Eastern Door. And my clan is that of the Wolf, and we are warriors.

When asked to write a story about an experience that made me question my identity I thought long and hard. Even submitting two other instances. But this one. This is the big one. The one that made me sit up, pay attention, and ask who, exactly, I am.

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The reason I'm 1/2 convinced she's magic is that I've never found her again. Never found anyone who knows her. And haven't met anyone from that event who remembers her.

Occasionally, I think I'll meet her again at the top of a mountain or deep in the woods some day.