Bear Pin Journey

 

First Bear Pin

When I was given the challenge of "making the Bear real" with a team, I needed to think about how as a team we could center certain key perspectives while in action? This includes key concepts to Indigenous methodologies such opening spaces in the circle for other voices and ideas such as 7 generations which we thought were important to hold close as a team. We tried a couple of different approaches including a Bear Team Tracker where we identified common goals we were working towards and shared progress regularly.

However, when it came time to assess my team on their yearly deliverables, the structures of the government review process were not adequate to capture the journey of my team and the growth of the individuals. We needed another way to acknowledge the growth of the folks in the circle and the roles they were given by the Elders. I began researching but many of the recognitions of this kind are military focused (although there are much older civil servant examples with lots of nice hats). It was also important that this symbolic representation be respectful to the different Nations we come from and their symbolic practice. I wanted something folks could wear with their regalia should they wish.

 

One night my child was watching videos about nuclear submarines by Smarter Everyday. While far outside of my normal interests I was hooked. Since these ships go dark for many months everything onboard is meticulously planned and considered. One thing that stood out to me was the cross training. Like a SEAL team, every member has a specialty but is also trained in all other roles. This is an important part of your time on the ship and at the end the sailors are awarded a dolphin pin. While the military link was uncomfortable, the more I thought about it, and the way the civil service is based on the military model, I started thinking about a bear pin.

After speaking with the team I decided to move forward with this idea. But the pin to use was obvious to me. The story behind the pin. I though the question of my child "why does that fish have a bear on it's bum?" was really a good symbol of the work we were trying to do to shift our perspectives. To honor the role of this story it was also included in one of the modern teaching stories about economy that I am working on.

Each pin is unique for the person and includes a marker of their years. For example with this first pin

• The person was identified as our "Circle Keeper" which is represented with the red circle
• In recognition of the time served, wood leaf =2021, snail = 2022
• Colors are chosen based on the color preferences of the individual and times I spend with the Medicines during creation. I try to work on part of the pin in another Bear Ceremony.
• Bear is in motion and connected to the water

These Bear pins are awarded in the Bear Circle with the guidance of the Elder. In the time since we awarded the first Bear Pin I have been surprised to see how this practice has rippled and further enriched our practices. For example, after a year of learning with the Bear we found that we wanted to align ourselves to the rhythms around us.  As a result we introduced the Bear calendar to try to be more aware of the seasons and how they impact us, our communities and all our relations.  This included some different Bear Pin activities to recognize the hibernation time.

Sock monkeys, Zizek and sore behinds - Draft Chapter 9

This is the last story this old Bear can write. It has been quite a journey – re-remembering, learning and navigating stories. Bear was privileged to carry the tongue and pen this far. Bear can’t wait to see what the new ones will add to the Bear’s stories.

This journey has been a lots of learning. What makes a good story? Is it a body leaned in close? A voice turned whisper? A teaching that worms around your mind and heart for years? Something that stays with you long after the fire is ash?

Well, over some years, this Bear has been able to learn and grow with bear cubs. A long ago Grandmother had sewn a Sock Monkey. This Sock Monkey lived an active life in our cave, keeping the dolly antics under control, wearing many hats, fighting off inquisitive beagles and teasing jealous felines.  One day, the whole bear family was out at the market when our little cub gave a terrible cry. Following their paw, we turned to find a nearby shop wall was covered in the skins of the sock monkeys! Worse, the sock monkeys had been sewn into socks and hats for the two leggeds! Being sold without any proper respects! Well now…many cubs tears fell for those lost monkeys! Even today the diagram above is easy to find on the internet. It shows how sock monkeys can be dissected and sewn together to cover the human foot.

That little cub had got a lot of knowledges eh?

So we tried school. It is what they tell us the cubs need. It didn’t work out so good, but we first started wondering in kindergarten when we opened our cub’s little backpack to find it full of books on agricultural economics, postmodern thinkers and philosophers! That little cub consumed these texts with a passionate intensity. She read them upside down, inside out and backwards – with the cold eyes of innocence. Somedays Dolly was Arendt and Teddy was Eichmann. They usually met for tea and it was all very polite. But watching our cub live out their learnings gave this Data Bear confidence as some texts don’t wield to the conventions of reading them right side up!

That little cub had got a lot of knowledges eh?

Little Bear loves the shiny and sorts my treasures. Their eyes land on the pin with a Bear and Fish[1]. “Mama, why does that fish have a bear on its butt?”

Well, there’s nothing to add - that’s the best story I ever learned from. Ho.

---

[1] Reference that this pin in the inspiration for the “Bear Pin”?

Finding community: the Kumik National Lodge on Algonquin lands

I first came to Kumik 15 years ago.  I knew that my family was Métis but that had little relevance to my life.  I don’t remember the Elder but the story they shared that day became an important part of my life philosophy and teachings for my children.

About ten years ago, as a result of a conversation with an Elder brought in by IRCC (from Kumik), I made the decision to fully acknowledge my Indigenous heritage.  I had long held back for this step thinking that as I got where I was with white skin privilege and didn’t have any cultural knowledge that I should not identify as Indigenous.  That Elder gave me the teachings and stories I needed to start my internal decolonization work.  As a result I learned about my family, our traditions and started learning Cree.

As there was no downtown lodge, whenever I could, I would get a taxi and cross the river to the Kumik.  I started meeting Elders occasionally for one on ones which filled my bundle and gave me a chance to learn about ceremony, protocol, teachings and stories.  Sometimes I brought my children and we attended many of the workshops making drums and other items that we still use.  This time allowed me to come into community, ask questions and learn with the Elders.  

This knowledge helped me to raise my children with good teachings in a healthy Indigenous way.  This was possible because of the welcoming environment for those of us who don’t have teachings or language or connection.  The Elders and people I met did not care if I was Indigenous enough, only that I was open to learning in a good way.  This community opened up other Indigenous resources to access. 

As a result of this growth, my child and I were at the closing ceremony for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.  My child was brought forward to represent the future generations.  Through the Kumik and related community, this child knows their Métis heritage and the good red road, they were there that day and carries those stories and the promises made into the future.

This regular contact with Kumik and the lack of progress on Indigenous issues at my previous department were key considerations in my decision to move to ISC as a senior analyst.  I was delighted to have full access to Kumik, the Elders and other community members.  My manager was supportive of attending Kumik and my proposal that we apply Indigenous Methodologies to a policy paper I was working on.  I was able to even contemplate that work because I knew I could access Elders as needed though the one on ones at Kumik.

The first year of the project I met with many Elders, Grandfathers who tested me, Grandmothers who encouraged me and community that inspired me.  Elder Barb Brant, Mohawk, Turtle Clan agreed to work with us on this work and this resulted in the paper “Daring to Meet the Bear”.  During this time I learned about Knowledge bundles and created one for this project to capture the teachings and share stories.  On the guidance of Elders I ask for a spirit name.  I undertook that process and learned and listened and realized how little I know.  Through Kumik I kept learning, attending ceremony and experienced the amazing support of doing policy and research with the support of the Elder.  The Kumik also supported my student who went on his own identity journey during his time with us.  Elder Barb with there for both of us and always patient with our questions.

The second year, after getting our bearings in COVID, the ability to access Kumik was an important coping mechanism and way to stay in community.  Working with Kumik we brought Elder Solomon Wawatie (Anishnabek) in for one on ones and team supports.  Given that Kumik was not offering one on ones during this time we were very glad to continue to have an Elder to support our work and people.  In the third year, Elder Barb rejoined us (She never left really continuing to support us by phone and text).  At this time I had been newly named manager with a mandate to apply Indigenous Methodologies to data and analytics.  My team and I were  blessed to be able to access the Kumik and Elders as we figured out how to do things from this lens.  We learnt with others in the community and supported each other through that challenging year.

We are now in our sixth year of practically applying Indigenous methodologies and I am humbled by all the things I have learnt and the journeys our team has taken. We work closely with a team applying Indigenous Methodologies to evaluations for the first time in our context. We have worked with teams in HR, procurement, planning and reporting and innovation. We will continue to find new ways to apply that Indigenous lens.  We will continue to have firsts – such an interview panel where everyone was Indigenous.  All this does not even touch on the person growth I have experienced from working with the Elders and being part of Kumik.

Kumik has been an important part of my personal growth and family life, while also supporting me and team to apply Indigenous methodologies to all our work. 

Ninanaskomowin for listening to my story.  EM (Pehiw – She who is in waiting and Nipon Kona (Summer Snow)

Misi-Maskwa: The Great Stiff Jointed Man Eating Hairless Bear -Draft Chapter 8

Misi-Maskwa:  The Great Stiff Jointed Man Eating Hairless Bear – Institutions, Measurement and schools – 1920-1970ish

In those days the balance was lost and the Misi-Maskwa[1] the great stiff jointed hairless Bear roamed Turtle Island far from their usual northern lands. Ever hungry, Misi-Maskwa would stride up and down, back and forth, to the big waters in every direction looking for food. Their heavy steps reverberated on Turtle’s shell. They tore off mountains tops to dip in salty oceans. They mixed up terrible stews – fishes, ferns and even folk. Some days they tore off bits sky dripping in sunshine to slurp up. The noises were unbearable.

Word of this destruction and terror spread quickly. Some looked to hide in caves and condos. Some declared certain songs the trouble and came for tongues.  Some said Bear was angry because Bear was hungry and we should give it more food. Some listened to the Old ones and prepared. They witnessed and walked with the medicines. They went to schools that weren’t outside! They practiced their songs and told their truths. Still other folks went on TV to help us better understand. “Misi-Maskwa is not all bad! Look at their work ethic. Consider their productivity! 42 mountains are now easier to climb! There is 14.832 percent less sky to pay attention too! Complaints about Giant Squirrels are way down!”

Year after year Misi-Maskwa’s hungry rampage continued. Until there was only one mountain left without teeth imprints or scratch marks. You probably remember that newscast too! Steady serious voices called to us, “Volunteers needed to protect this last mountain from the massive paws of terrible destruction.” My cousins and I packed our things that night.

It was many moons to  arrive at that last mountain. We joined campfires made of many peoples from all the circles of all the lands.

As is our custom, the Grandparents guided our strategy and organization as they well know the skills strengths of each person. We gathered weapons. We sharpened minds. We rested. Until the day the Old ones sent out songs inviting Misi-Maskwa to the fire to find a less destructive way to fill Bear’s belly.

After a long while, behind the drums of the old songs, we heard the heavy footsteps of Misi-Maskwa. The TV people told us to stop druming so they could get better coverage of the massive Bear - LIVE. When the songs continued, some got angry and pulled drums from our arms and threw drum sticks to the grasses. “This is history – the people deserve to see the truth – hear the truth -without your noise.” They would not listen to the advice of the Grandparents.

The end of the songs and the sounds of folks fighting got Misi-Maskwa, who was always hangry anyway, into a great rage. The TV people shone their light up into Bears eyes. Now blinded it ran confused into the great crowd of people.  Each enormous paw left destruction. My cousins and I observed and grieved, we held steady, ready to track Misi-Maskwa once its belly was filled and it slowed.

My cousins, we were trackers and workers of medicines and energies who always found what they searched for – no matter how long it took. Each knew their job. Each knew when it was time to chase and time to disguise. So as moons came and went the cousins followed Misi-Maskwa up and down ruined mountains, through valley’s of monster stews. Sometimes we could see it’s terrible sharp teeth, furless flesh or a flash of claw through the green things. We felt fear and hunger and fatigue but still we followed, up and down and up. Followed up until we were higher than we had even gone. Until we were almost close enough to touch the tail of the great beast. Using hand talk, so Misi-Maskwa would not know their plans, we cousins separated to get ready.

Each cousin moved stealthily - forming a circle around Misi-Maskwa. As we waited for Grandfather Sun to arise and signal the moment of resolution, we each worked our medicines. From the East a cousin lit Semah and Misi-Maskwa turned to see the source of the aroma. As the smoke circled Bear’s eyes were blinded by the rapidly rising sun. From the South another cousin lit their medicines. These wafted around Bear, calming their anger until they lay down on the earth. From the East, my cousin lit medicines to help open Misi-Maskwa’s heart. Finally from the North, my cousin raised their medicines and songs so that Misi-Maskwa could see how its hunger was hurting Turtle and everyone who lived on Turtle’s back. “There is enough Misi-Maskwa. Enough for everyone when we come together as equal.” All day, the cousin voices blended in great strength and sent healing to that ever hungry tummy so it could know enough.

Eventually our songs got tired and we fell into slumber. When we awoke it was night, and when we looked around to see that we had chased Bear into the sky just below the stars. And where that enormous Bear body had lain in rest were twinkling stars. So now you know and if you can see, on clear nights, you can observe Misi-Maskwa above us. A reminder of hard journeys, using our gifts and the power of cousins. Ho

---

[1][1] Cree

A moment with Baby and dog

 

A moment with Baby and dog: Data Bear

As part of my thinking on experiential policy I tried to think through the life of a mother on the move. I was inspired by watching many episodes of "Time Team": a show where they have three days to understand the history of a place. They would often try to recreate a relevant historical food, feelings and experience to understand and connect to these ancestors.

This is the Wiki overview of experimental archeology Experimental archaeology - Wikipedia. Over the past 10 years this kind of practical physical inquiry has spread to other disciplines. I think this is an important element underpinning the Bear work - from the early days we had the teachings of Elder Solomon Wawatie (Anishnabe) that the answers would be found in doing the thing. Bear has returned many times to that teaching over the past years. Elder Barb Brant (Mohawk) also embodies this teaching in how she shares and guides this work

More recently I have noticed that many younger makers on youtube are contributing in this space, recreating things from available information, sharing their thinking about it and how to do it better, and sharing their learning with others. There are a number of really thoughtful folks working in this area –  but this was the first video that really pulled this approach all together for me Make it Goth(ic). Sewing a gown based on modern, vintage, and historical ideas of the gothic. - YouTube . It is active and practical engagement with the past(s), to learn in the present for the future.

Through the act of creating this piece I was able to see the home, ask new questions and better understand the historical descriptions I was reading. Nia'wen to all our Grandmothers for all their hard work to keep homes and communities safe. I will write up some of my other efforts to explore this area from a policy perspective soon, but overall I think this has the potential to be a fruitful area of inquiry especially in areas where written records are limited and/or obviously biased.

Mother is just out of frame but baby is safe as Mouse Woman watches from the grass. She is a respected Grandmother from traditional Haida stories who watches over children. I highly recommend these stories if you have young ones around. "Mouse Woman and the Vanished Princesses"

Rescue from the Rougarour: Draft Chapter 7

Trouble with a Rougarou, unless you meet them in the light you might not notice what they are – not at first. At most, they might seem a little off. Maybe they are having a bad day or carry a heavy burden - so you give them a pass. Maybe they seem like the stories of the Old Ones. Maybe you just got other things heavy on your mind.

But one day, you gotta take a path late at night, maybe it is a known path so you hurry, footsteps sure, without a worry. Maybe it is a new path, winding high into a mountain, so you tread careful – your lamp held high to guide your way. Doesn’t matter which.

One moment, late at night, you think you hear a cry ahead. A hurt animal or child? Doesn’t matter whom.

We are wired to stop, to offer care. And for one moment you forget the teachings to remain vigilant around the Rougarou. Doesn’t matter why.

But you are then transfixed in the glowing grotesque beauty eyes of temptation. How easy the Rougarou can infect with their endless hungers. Under dark skies, they catch your eyes, lighting fires for more. Kindling coals better left to slumber…

It even happened to us. One day we was out wandering. Following trails. Gathering knowledges. It was a glorious day – the sun strong and the wind gentle. Caught in the thrill of the moment we stayed out too late tracking a clever little Thinker that was eluding us. We followed the Thinker to a river where they hid their scent in the water. The trail was lost. As we reset our thoughts for the home journey, our heart replaying the thrill of the chase, we failed to watch for night dangers.

Hearing a cry, we thought the Thinker had stumbled and our moment of capture was near. So we softened our footfalls and proceeded ever so slowly. Our ears pricked as we heard a whimpering of pain…a little quicker we proceeded towards the sound. Around a small bush was an even smaller ball of fur. We reached out a paw, but the shivering relation curled up even tighter with a moan. Surely this small hurt creature could pose any danger to a grown bear we moved our nose closer to smell for the injury. Nostrils flaring, we took one sniff, two sniffs….. the count fell silent as we tasted our own blood dripping down our snout.  Following the river of red, the creature across from us licks its lips and we drown in those flame eyes …

It was many many days later that we awoke to the Grandmothers circled around. I felt my fur for injury to find that our left ear was bandaged.  That is the only way eh? To draw out the Rougarou spirit eh? You gotta cut that person’s ear with sharp good metal and then let it heal with the medicines. Well we was real lucky, cause our folks knew just what to do. They knew the plants to gather and where to find them. They knew where and how to make the needed cut. But most of all, they recognized what made those claw marks across our face. They understood right away what the ravings to maximize profits and rants to minimize risk exposures through collateralized debt instruments meant. Just lucky you know. But been hearing more and more stories about how luck can be a fickle friend. Ho.

---

[1] Story Based On Rougarou Story In “Stories Of Our People/Lii Zistwayr Di La Naasyoon Di Michif Serieshttps://gdins.org/product/stories-of-our-people/”

A song of becoming : A dance with Transit of Empire 2

Never gonna
SAY
more better
mind
or-gas-ims
page 195*
Those words
mathmusic.
Then
a bag
of petals.
Paid in beauty?
(We are making medicines)
Training vines
to grow together
Shelter
Tables
for feasts
yet to come.

You are precision.
Rooted.
Me -
Petal Dancer.
[But nevermind]

What songs accompany your days?*

We shall find a harmony

a song of circle

a song of harvest

a song of becoming,

shared in the lessons of leaves,

petals

and roots.

Pehiw Wandering 2024

 *Jodi A. Byrd "The Transit of Empire: Indigenous Critiques of Colonialism

 pg 225"

You ded yet? : A dance with Transit of Empire 1

Sunday morning

Wandering,

Worrying.

You ded yet?

hate the game

hate the players

hate the board/bored.

Sharpened my strategy,

took advice,

Wind counselled,

follow the fractures,

gently push

hands

overlain

Ancestors deep,

gotta listen

(...............)

They built the camps

right on our bodies!

Economies of poison,

rivers of deceit,

Well....

Dams fracture

Zombie Imperialism*

got me feeling

homer sacer

"Play it again Sam."

Can't bare to remember

Can't ever forget

Complicity.

- Thought it was normal - 

Black and white

Ballets with shame

Locked up.

In between

Can't do more days

Gotta stop forgetting

Tattered tongued

I spoke my truth

Bags of petals

porch visits

community

stitches

in wounds

long left gaping

medicines

teachings

care

soothe

butterfly gentle

Willow seed

Snow in June

soft

Spring gangster

digging toes

deep

living a broken

birthed a shadow sibling

transmute

soil sisters

transmit

drum beat truths

- it don't matter - 

dead or alive

shroud

be thy bedclothes

you will it so/sew.

I have grieved long

your grave

will have no tears

for I am too far

to return

to lands

long ago flooded

with silent tears.

Pehiw Wandering 2024

 *Jodi A. Byrd "The Transit of Empire: Indigenous Critiques of Colonialism

 pg 225"

From gates to keepers

Métis stuff?
Is my blood red?
We got to self harm
to check that truth?
We all mixed up.
It was always so.
Old Ones
Taught better,
Helped us learn,
Build us up, 
Brought together.

What culture?
Is my blood red?
We got to hold heart
to check that truth?
We all scar(r)ed,
Infected dollars,
Rounds for everyone,
Shots
- whether you want -
Many hands raise your glass.
Brought together.

Bear Story?
Is my blood red?
We got to monitor monthly
to check that truth?
We all living,
what else to do,
Till visions,
Traded
garden to garden,
soil to worm,
from gates to keepers.

Pehiw Preparing 24

Economies of Butterflies

Mother Bear
from first principals
reborn from ink
floated to safety
tears raised me up
marked ∞
an always thing

wove
little and BIGS
one week.
Traded butterflies
for stories.
Rose petals
a bit of hope.
Saw truths spoke
honoured
danced.

"We were giving,
that's how
we kept
what we gave away."*

Pehiw Preparing 24

To D my little neighbor and A a bigger neighbor.
*Neil Young "Comes at a Time"

Dear Joe

Dear Joe*
been learning
old wars
new harms.
genocide again?
I been / to some.
Gulags
"Well now / you know"
old wisdoms
new ears
old mirrors
new stories
snakes
given ladders
- shrug -
locked up?
Lived it. 
Another Joe,
was first
Perhaps fortold
these days?
sky orator
practicing
until voices
found?
spread thighs
over roofs
ashed skin
YOU BROKE!

Far.
Closer to home.
Inside.
Plague came
other horsemen
(don't waltz)
- gasp _
"we forgot"
seashells whisper
"lies!"
Eyes fail
cave delights
consumed us.
(Got
gangsta granny
goals)**
That corner?
gotta 
fill pockets
so(w) seeds
be ready.

Pehiw Preparing 24
*To all the Joes I have known
** To Rita of Guigues Street who showed us how to hold our spaces.

Can't go home no more

Went home.
Weren't ma mountains 
anymore.
The ocean
welcomed visitor,
gifted treasures
I fly to kin.

 
Here/hear teacher.
A shell
that whispered 
time for your hand.

Sand that cried,
"Thank fuck"
for loves 
that can be
more than
"They never hit me."

I tried to hug you.
Learned how.
But your body
only sees threat.
Made a Žižek joke.

-Akward-

So much sad
stones
and bones
groaned. 

Saw 10 crows
on dead tree
30 feet high
kin around
felt Matriarchy

patchworks

stitched

in misty waterways

paddles while children slumbered

All your hope!

All your love!

Fabric

of hues

only little ones see.

Backed

to Grandfather's cloth

once stretched 

cross backs

carrying the burdens

they invented the blues for.

Music

rhythm

algorithm

creates

separation

desperate in-hale

afore....

wave returns.

Can't go home no more

But been building new gardens

sharing seeds

celebrating better loves.

Pehiw Preparing 24

Desk Killers

 How do you write about books that dance in your mind? Books that make your stomach turn? Truths you could have known – except we are trained not to see it – not to ask THOSE questions. I confess. I am a Desk Killer! I hoped to warrior with honor, weapons of logic, data, systems – I learned them all. Learned the rules. Learned they are lies. Learned the lies (oh the hubris!) Learned words I stamped in skin – STRUGGLE or else what? Let the chaos take us? Dying fast or slow? Either way gets the job done. The numbers don’t Lie! Which kills show on my tally sheet? No scalps in honor. I count no coup. Witigo – a shrapnel – from Shakespeare to wounds that don’t heal…. Can’t even use a lighter….CLICK – trench reflex. Must hide flame.

I was born to this war. I stamped words in skin. “The cake is a lie.”

Didn’t mean what I thought it did. Wasn’t said by the “person” I thought. But that’s my life story. And the words aren’t false.

We fight over a bigger pieces of the pie* and forget to ask if we want pie or if we could make something that could feed everyone around the table. So…I also got hope etched, words of Matriarchs and stories from times before/to come. Colors applied to disguise, to signal what we already knew – unblooded – so I need the needles and sacred black from fires merged with my skin. We are their stories. We cannot forget.

Data Bear (Mama Bear Energies) Preparing 24

*This is a teaching from Winnona LaDuke (Dakota) who is also an economist.

Dancing with "The Transit of Empire"

Reading a book*.
"Cacophony"
like fine jazz
you win me over
who is grievable?**
who is overwritten?
Who is timeless - 
held binary?
Who is sacrificed -
to lines and shames?
Who wears
what scars?
What songs
silenced?
Reading a book
feels like coming home.
"homer sacer"***
sings so sweet
deep tones
clarinet
tells how
THEORY FAILS
rigid bodies
unable to flex
not like melodies
relived by many
sung in memory
of each circle
that was
and shall be.
Aho,

Pehiw Preparing 24

* "The transit of Empire" by Jodi A Byrd (Chickasaw)

** Judith Butler "Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence"

***Giorgio Agamben  "Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life"

What you gonna do?

What you gonna do
when they come for your liver?
Sure better hope
you got arrows in your quiver.
What you gonna do
when they come for your pen?
Did it once
might do it again.
What you gonna do
when they come for your soul?
Give a little bit
or keep it whole?
What you gonna do
when they come for your time?
Take that money
see how far allowed to climb?
What you gonna go
when they come for your sleep?
gonna say quiet
or stand and speak?

Akihcikewin Maskwa (Data Bear) Preparing 2024

Dedicated to cousins and Aunties who speak their truths

On the violence of forgetting

Aphasia
steals my nouns
ordinary things
like carrots (rebranded calculator)
Never thought
to check sofa cracks
history's leavings
things re-seen
unseen
unsayable
In uncertain palm
Truth had deep roots.
We can have no futures

built on the violences of forgetting

Pehiw Awakening 24

"If it wasn't for this, there would be no that."

 "If it 
wasn't for this,
there would be
no that."*

diaphanous disguise

monster

or 

mother?

either way

you gotta love it.

wizard of oz

seed the future

city of green

so ludicrous

we call them unicorns.

breathe in despair-disappear

argue the universe

time to clean its room.

Breathe out

survive

rhythm by rhythm

kindness by kindness

circle into circle.

Pehiw Preparing 24

*Intro "American Gangster" Jay-Z and to Jodi A. Byrd, citizen of the Chickasaw Nation whose book "The Transit of Empire" speaks this truth,

Spaces between our fingers

I want to write
a DPR#%&*

like them men

who sang with the Ancestors**

a ballad

of burecratic bullshit

discordant dystopias

numbers of fish

dead students

hate crimes

economic crimes

strategic plans

forests of despair/disappear

cabinet room

locked in bedroom

need to make room

I can measure everything!

Twist-transform-transmute

until it sings to me

count the caribou

enumerate machines

tally bones.

must toil

to redeem.....

but how to weave

when looms destroyed

and only hands remain?

hunters of impossible futures

taught only S E L F

we must practice harmonies

hidden in the spaces between our fingers.

Akihcikewin Maskwa (Data Bear) Preparing 2024

*Departmental Results Reports - Canada.ca I have written content for many of these reports and there are historical versions written with input of my Ancestors and about my Ancestors. 

**Jeremy Dutcher an Wolastoqiyik (Maliseet) member of the Tobique First Nation in North-West New Brunswick, released Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa in 2018. This album is a dialogue with the Ancestors.

Aysanabee is an Oji-Creewhose debut album Watin was named for his grandfather and features several recordings with him on the album.

Crime without Punishment, starring the Desk Killers - Before the Silence: Draft Chapter 5

It was the time of extraordinary men. Men who came to tame the woods. Men who set the huffing and puffing steel snakes to imprison prairies. Men who came in disguise. Black robes covering veins hungry for gold. Thieves dressed in the clothes of academics. Accountants styled as poets. They dug deep into the Mother – they played with old magics where desk men conjured numbers and made mystic calculations about who might live and who must die.

In that time of extraordinary men, we learned that caves were dirty, smelly and uncivilized. Stone was so old fashioned! They told stories of wonderful futures without illness, without want, without sadness. We could trade our knowledges of the letters and number magics for cash. Cash, they explained, had its own magic. It could transform into anything!

“Look, we will show you the way.” So they worked their magics and transformed the boggy land by adding a house made of dried grasses tied into bundles. “Come work for us and one day you, our friend – imagine it – one day you will live in a house of fine red brick.” Our caves were filling with men looking for shiny metals, and our wandering was constrained by the steel snakes and extraordinary rules, so this sounded pretty good.

But this new house of straw was leaky and moldy, obviously inferior to the caves, and was far from the hunting grounds. We spoke these truths to the men, and many times they promised to send supplies, but it was only when our body was gaunt that they appeared. They spoke sternly, “You are not keeping up your magic on this home! You must apply yourself more.” Over and over again they chanted these words until a great wind was formed and with a massive exhale they blew the straw house straight to the skies.

“We will build you a better house. But now you have had time to grow your own magics. Give us… let’s say… 25% of your magic today and, one day, my friend – imagine it – you will live in a house of fine red brick.” So they transformed a windy prairie spot by adding of a house of pine. While the constant winds shook our home, and the howls of the steel snakes bisected our days and ways there were few caves nearby. This home was dry and clean, and the cupboard full of food for a long winter.

But every day we feasted alone, unable to find any relations nearby.  As the days passed, our thoughts grew strange as food seemed to vanish every day even though we replenished it often with magics. After careful consideration, and a great number of calculations, we were sure our stores would not last the winter, no matter how long we worked.

With shame, we spoke this truth to our friends and many times they promised to send seeds so we could raise a garden, but it was only when our body was emaciated that they appeared. They spoke harshly, “You are not keeping up your magic on this home. You must apply yourself more.” Over and over again they chanted these words until a great wind was formed and with a great exhale they blew the wood box straight to the skies.

“We will build you a better house. But now you have even more of your own magics. Give us another 25% of your magics and today – imagine it – you will move into a house of fine red brink.” So they transformed a forest of cedar with the addition of houses of fine red brink. Row on row of identical red boxes. The nearby caves were wet and empty, but there was a Tim’s nearby. We might feast alone, but at least we were bonded with those in our brand clan.

But as the days passed, we heard ghostly whispers (“Double-Double, toil and trouble”) as the food seemed to diminish everyday even though we contributed greater and greater magics. After careful consideration, and a great number of calculations, we were sure our Tim’s Card would not last until the next payday, no matter how many hours we worked.

With shame, we spoke this truth to our friends and many times they promised to upload points on our Tim’s Card, but it was only when our body was skeletal that they appeared. They spoke unsympathetically, “You are not keeping up your magic on this home. You must apply yourself more.” Over and over again they chanted these words until a great wind was formed and with a great exhale they transformed the bricks from neat little boxes into one giant brick tower that almost blocked the sun. “Enter those doors to find your future.” Well, we had a bad feeling about that building but we were far from our lands, our magics insufficient to sustain us, hungry and tired we entered those doors, never suspecting how long those bricks would hold us. Ho

 Ninanaskomowin to JB for his contributions and commas.

Dream catcher and dashboard temple

Dream catcher
Dashboard temple
Golden fish

Networked
(Cause ottawa)
Order latte
Desk killer?
Or
Embodied dreamer?
Closet dweller?
Or
Excuse giver?

I stood witness
To a reading of our crimes
Too tired
Sick everything
Everyone sees the threads
Shall we all pull?
Show the emperor's shame

Worked here then too!
No. They moved us.
Refugees
Each move a corrosion
Fewer boxes followed
Digital age.

I said i was Metis
You already knew
Casual gesture to my arm
Just baked into skin
We exchanged gifts
Fragments of futures we shall build 

Akihcikewin Maskwa (Data Bear) Preparing 2024

This morning: trench time

Two friends
run to embrace.
message carried,

cousins contacted
council sought
cedar greeted
street provided

so
circle needs guarding?

well...
got ma teachings
laying tobacco
cause our warriors walk

Grandmothers gather.
Grandfathers gather.
winds foretold

we cannot
hold your space in the circle

paths diverge

healing is hard

but you are survive

I did.
They did.
You can.

peace in balance.

your day
to plan the battle
may come
under older suns.

Akihcikewin Maskwa (Data Bear) Preparing 2024

Bear Learns a New Game: Decolonization story for Chapter 4

 Bear Learns a New Game

So that Raven is a trickster eh? Always asking questions and getting involved in people’s business. So of course, that’s how this story starts! Bear was just wandering, looking poking for answers and pawing for questions when a voice whispered

“Did ya know? Did ya try it? It changed my life!”

Well Bear was all ears. Something new! Something transformative! And Raven let the expectations grow – stretching that silence like meat in hard times.

“It’s true. The answers to all your woes is close.” Raven hopped around the corner “Follow. Follow. I will be your guide.”

So Bear followed to a parking lot and with a very interesting shape marked into the ground in BIG BOLD LINES. Within the grid there were lots of those strange symbols that some folks stick together to say things on paper. Bear always liked the challenge of figuring out these new symbols and games. Bear spent a long time thinking about the patterns and rhythms of this new shape. Maybe too long.

When Bear finally looked up - dark was creeping close and Raven had disappeared. Bear was getting hungry and turning to leave when there was a voice sweet as a summer breeze from a shadow,

“It is a real beauty eh?”

In the dark it was hard to see who owned the voice but Bear didn’t really care. Bear’s mind was in love with this delightful new puzzle. Before long the voice sounded closer

“I could.. tell you.. what I know. I am just learning but then you could play a game with me… Just a fun game between friends.”

Now Bear knew lots about circle maths and teachings so they wanted to learn this new knowledge too. Maybe it would help them better understand circles! But Bear also remembered other sweet voices in dark places so they though deep before they replied.

“How do I know this is a good game? Maybe you just want to trick this hungry, tired Bear.”

The shadowed voice was silent. “You are a very wise Bear. I will teach you to play – and afterwards you can decide if you want to waste your clever mind on such a simple game. But it is just efun to pass the time.”

This seemed quite sensible to Bear who though the proposal fair. Movements were decided by a cube that created numbers to tell us how many squares to travel. If your new square had a vine, you could climb to the top and get ahead very quickly. But if you landed on a spot with a snake it could swallow you and transport the person far back in the race. The deciding cube was a fair speaker so the game was only of luck - the voice assured Bear.

Now Bear did some quick calculations and decided that the risk to try this new game was acceptable. Bear could always leave if the game was too boring but it looked like it could be fun. And Bear did enjoy the game. So after a while, when the voice suggested they make things more interesting, Bear agreed. When the voice said they should make the vines shorter so it was more of a challenge. Bear agreed. When Bear thought the Snakes had maybe grown longer they did not say anything. Sometimes Bear won and it felt amazing. A great abundance of blankets, baskets of berries and plies of sewing machines and clocks grew around them. When Bear lost, the piles moved to the other player. Bear started imagining how happy Grandmother would be to have some of these items. How much easier her life!

After a long time. Bear’s stomach reminded them that this game would not fill their belly tonight and that there were others at home who needed to be fed. But when Bear explained these things, the other player pleaded again and again for just one more game. “

Listen to your mind Bear not your stomach. Look at these fine machines. They will save you time.” And Bear would play another game.

After another long time, Bear’s stomach called an end to the evening. Bear really wanted to play a little longer and bring some of those lovely things back to their side of the magic square but a hungry stomach comes before all else.

“Thank you my brother/sister for the company. But having both won and both lost it is a good time to return to our homes. It was kind of you to share your knowledges. Let’s we meet tomorrow and play circle games.”

The voice was chilly “The magic of circles is pale and weak compared to the magic of the squares and lines. If you want to play more, learn more, number more that is the game we must play.”

And as Bear considered those words Grandfather Sun arose to show Bear who the other player had been. For that player was afraid of Grandfather and fled as soon a dawn gathered strength. In that moment, Bear realized that they had learned the games of the Wiitigo. The games of hunger, wanting more and making sure lines go up. Ho