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Join Our Diverse Tribe: Fostering Engagement and Authenticity
OUT OF THE BOX ENGAGEMENT
In 2018 I created a group on Facebook named “We Belong”.
You may have wondered what is this group about, and what is the purpose of this group?
Thank you those who have joined me after I invited you, trusting me and accepting my invitation to join this group even when my intention for the group was less than clear.
The idea of this group came to me after listening to Author Radha Agrawal’s podcast about social connections, essentially, we as humans seek authentic social connections with others. We not only seek these connections it is important for our mental and physical health to have healthy relationships. Facebook, we have been led to believe would facilitate this connection. However, we started using it more artificially.
Furthermore, I have found that Facebook does not meet our need for this connection and a feeling of belonging, except when we get a DM. Social media is designed for more superficial entertainment use and to collect personal information. Instead of connecting us. It has created more isolation and dissatisfaction in our lives.
And more generally other social platforms have not found a way to engage each other instead we are having parallel conversations. Like ships passing each other in the night. I had a look at my friends and realized I have some awesome friends I have a tribe, I have a community and decided to bring them altogether in one place where we can design a community that works for us. My rational for creating a virtual community is due to my frustration of social media.
I am the administer of several groups. I use social platforms like twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat. None of these platforms satisfy my need to connect. I find them superficial. Each of them ends up being pretty much the same as my personal Facebook page, in that people are not engaging with me on a deep authentic level. Perhaps they like a certain post but often will not contribute any more than a thumbs up. People post pictures, recap travel where they’ve gone, where they ate, and that is all good, but I’m looking for something more I am looking for serious conversations that are inspiring and thought provoking. Something more you.
For example, at dinner with a couple of friends our dinner conversation was electrifying and engaging. We discussed youth incarceration, restorative justice, the judicial system, and whether it was helpful in reforming criminals? The overcrowded penitentiaries and the impact of those on reforming criminals. We discussed healing lodge as a mechanism for reforming criminals who committed serious offenses. We discussed the cycle of alcohol on generations, how the youth are impacted by this trend. We discussed how youth are place in same prisons as harden adult criminals. Because once you were over the age of 18 you are treated as an adult and therefore will be placed with other adults. one of the examples discussed was how a stupid action while under the influence can change the trajectory of one’s life. We discussed how incarceration does very little to reform a person or even deter repeat offenders. The subject is serious and impacts our society. Of course, our conversation really didn’t resolve the questions, however you never know where such conversation will lead in the future as it percolates in the mind. Perhaps deep conversations like these can only happen face to face, but if we give this group a chance, I believe it can happen here as well.
The invitation Letter I sent to a few friends 6 years ago to join We Belong.
When I first started this group that each of you was carefully considered before I added you. I was looking for a compassionate person, an intellectual, a person with varied interest, a well-read person.I was looking for people who will make this group engaging, who would be authentic and have the highest integrity in their word and ensure that whatever they post will be inclusive and respectful. I believe each of you have some of these qualities. If I am correct in my assumption that you too are dissatisfied with your experience on social media, then I made the right choice to add you to this founding group.
What I would need from you is your word that you would be an active participant in the group. That you would be respectful, and kind in your responses. My promise to you is that I will facilitate and moderate the conversations and ensure that participants remain authentic, respectful, and helpful. I will ensure to keep this a safe place for sharing of ideas. Like the conversation over dinner last evening, we were able to discuss some very serious topic without it degrading to personal attacks but instead added value to the overall conversation.
Is this something you are interested and being part of? if yes, I am pleased to provide this forum for you. If not, – if this is too serious of a group, too intellectual, you can leave the group and I will not be offended. This is not for everyone. Because sometimes all we really want is to be entertained and there is nothing wrong with that.
I promised you is that I will facilitate, monitor conversations to ensure participants remain authentic and keep this a safe place for everyone. I have fulfilled my promise to the group, this is a safe place.
We can reset this group to realize my aspiration to feel connected. The key to it succeeding will be directly correlated to your participation! Which is why I carefully picked the first group of people keeping in mind how each of you will respond and to set the tone for the group. I value each one of you in the group and your opinion matters. I want to learn from you.
TOPICS can be introduced by anyone, provide a short synopsis with the question. Subject areas can be identified like health, books, neurology, philosophy, spiritual, psychology, relationships, food, medicine, culture, politics, religion you can introduce any subject if it is respectful and not offensive to anyone.
Racism and inciting hate will not be tolerated, and you will be requested to leave the group. I will make every effort to not control the dialogue, only facilitate and moderate.
I, honestly, I didn’t think of specific details of how this will work. I do know that I want to continue my daily meditation insights which I post on Instagram, twitter and sometimes my personal Facebook page. I have received feedback from many of you who have indicated you enjoy reading them. I see the insights as setting a tone for the group daily.
Having said the above, if you have any ideas of how this could work, how you want it to work, I welcome your remarks and we can design this with your input.
My intention is to create a community of like-minded people who are interested in having a real connection with each other. The goal is to meet our need for real social connections. We can work out the details as we go along. Now there are no hard and fast rules. The experiment was to see if we can override our automatic reactions and default reactions in response to what others post. Like distrusting others or being too shy to comment. Essentially, it is to create a new paradigm, a shift in how we relate on social media. This is a social experiment and I have no idea if it will work, or if this is the right platform, I am interested to see where it will go. If I find it is not working, I will let you know before I delete the group.
In my tribe we have CEO’s, lawyers, doctors. Artist, Indigenous elders, professors of law, and social work. Indigenous leaders, authors, people who participate at the UN on human rights. Students, Environmentalists, people who are concerned about the impact of our actions on the environment. And, in a word, game changers, innovators, thought provoker’s, some of you I known personally, and we connect on many levels, we have shared a meal, tea, and pleasant conversations. I like the idea of having you all meet each other for this experiment, and we will see where this leads us. Welcome to my tribe!
The first questions I posted to the group is if you oversaw the world what type of community you would create, keep in mind that this is a virtual community and now we have members from all over the globe. In this group, I hope that members would feel comfortable meeting each other in the real world. What would your values and goals be? Who would you invite? No one replied. It has been 6 years since I created this group, is it useful to you, or should I delete it?
Over the last six years I have posted on
- The weather
- loss and grief
- dementia and support
- Climate change
- I posted a link to my podcast to listen to conversations with ordinary inspiring people
- Happiness
- Sleep hygiene
- My Health
- Visitors
- Friends and family visiting
- Life on the river
Ottawa River -
THE FAMILY I CHOOSE
family picnic in an Edmonton park. The saying goes that we don’t pick our family, but we do pick our friends. I question that!
Sisters
L to RIGHT Dora, Rose, Liz, me, Mary, Annie 2016 Cahiron
Said another way, I believe that our soul, our true essence, picks the family we are meant to be born into and we decide how living within our family can help us to show up powerfully in life. You can be either a victim or a warrior. Further, I also believe I picked the best time to be born. I feel fortunate to be part of a family who shaped my character.
As Indigenous people, we are an extension of the natural world. There is a saying that we on some level pick the family we are born into from the spiritual realm before we are born. And I reflect on what being a Deranger teaches me. I am guided and inspired by my family and the lessons I am taught helps me move through life with grace.
As an Indigenous person, I believe that our genetic code and both the impacts of trauma and our challenges are transferred to us over seven generations. And in each generation we overcome weakness and learn lessons in this life. Which begs the question, why did I pick this family?
That said the study of astrology does point to something called cahiron, which are the lessons we are meant to learn in this life. Have you ever heard about an old soul; some people who appear to have lived many lives? The Buddhists believe we are reborn until we learn the answer to our suffering. It is our karma until the lesson is learnt.
Reasons
Taking this perspective as I do, gives me strength in how I respond to my life .
I chose the Deranger family. Instead of thinking it was random that I was born into this extraordinary family. Because it puts me in powerful position in that nothing in my life is done to me.
When I start from the position I choose everything in my life, even my family, means I don’t have room to blame anyone for how life treats me. I must learn from my experiences.
Background
Coming from a large Indigenous family, we were not wealthy in material things. However, we have something far greater, we have the guidance and protection of our ancestors. We have family who are caring, and lighthearted. My family taught me to be confident in my own skin.
Isidore Deranger my dad 1909-1992 Context
Deranger Family
My chosen family (of 16 children) in a Dene Indigenous family lived in Northern Saskatchewan before I was born. They lived in Uranium City (where I was born), then moved to Fort Chipewyan, and Fort Mcmurray in Alberta. In Fort Chipewyan we lived In a small hamlet without electricity or plumbing, with a mixed population of Dene, Cree, Métis, and people of European origin.
Let this sink in. I was raised with ten brothers, five sisters and our two parents in a one-room log cabin before we moved into a bigger house.
By and large it was a Roman Catholic household, but thankfully, my father Isidore was deeply rooted in our Denesuline culture of natural laws of nature. We are connected to our ancestral lands. My late brother Pat’s ashes were buried on our land, Denekizi. And the ashes of my late brother Roger, who passed on December 7, 2024 (incidentally my birthday) will be spread there this summer.
The final resting place of elder brother Pat Deranger (1951 – 2019). RIP The distinction between our worldview and that of the colonizers is the notion of good and evil, because within an Indigenous worldview there is no such thing as good or evil, heaven or hell, sin, or sinners. These do not exist in our reality. This is a Roman Catholic church construct designed to control their congregation.
Little me in front of our log cabin in Uranium City After all, we don’t ascribe sins to flowers, birds and other wildlife. The RC believes that a newborn is already a sinner, We exist like nature. in nature, and we are interconnected, and interdependent on one another. That is the Indigenous wouldview.
Recently my older brother Jimmy said, our culture is tied to the caribou, and our language. We were nomadic peoples. It is vital that we speak our Dene language, think first in Dene, he says. We Dene continue to utilize our traditional lands in all direction. And we always give offerings to the land and water.
When my ancestors hunted, fished or trapped they thanked the wildlife for giving their life for our food and we shared our food with our community. Our connection to the land is sacred.
The language we spoke at home is Chipewyan (Denesuline), a Dene dialect. My father was a hunter and trapper, and my mother made beautiful beaded Dene jackets, gloves, and moccasins for the family.
The last jacket my mom made for my son, Andrew There are no words to describe how I feel about this family, other than it is a blessing to be on this journey with my siblings and as one of the youngest, and the youngest female. I have always felt cherished and protected by my family.
I am truly blessed. There are a wealth of lessons to be learned growing up in a large Indigenous family of acceptance, compromise, and diplomacy, which led to me being tenacious with an unwavering spirit.
Our mother was a complex person. She was both firm but could be flexible. She was incredibly demanding and determined. But she was also generous, caring, and funny. Even though we had a full house she made room for other children who needed a safe place.
My mom, older brother Rossi (1957-2016) and me In turn, I stood for being the best daughter I could be for her, as I matured. I loved her unconditionally. Each time I thought of her, my heart would fill with pure joy and love for her. Even now 8 years after her passing I feel the love I have for her. I can honestly say that we’ve had an extraordinary relationship. I saw everything she did through the lense of my love for her and her love for all of us.
My mom’s likeness done by artist Margaret Ferraro. com 
My mom Therese Deranger (1919-2016) The lessons I learned from my Deranger family are
- Speak up when an injustice occurs — which is why my career was in Indigenous land claims.
- Love unconditionally
- Don’t be afraid to take risks
- Accept the knowledge link to our ancestors is strong and they are always close beside us helping and protecting us
- Remember the words of the elders
- Respect all living beings
- Show up in life, listen and be present
6 generations matriarch 
My oldest brother Peter (left) and my late brother Roger (right) (Denekizi) 
Our traditional land – home of Dene Kizi Academy Land based teachings 
Dene Kizi Academy 2022 
Future traditional knowledge keepers 
Mom and sons and other male descendants on her 90th birthday. -
Life peppered with Gratitude is a life worth living
On the Ottawa River on a friend’s boat Being happy means living your best life and not being afraid that others see it.
legends say that hummingbirds float free of time carrying our hopes for love, Joy and celebration. The hummingbird’s delicate grace reminds us that life is rich, beauty is everywhere, and every personal connection has meaning. laughter is life’s sweetest creation.
Being authentic, is not always the easy, Being happy means living my best life and not being afraid to let others see me.
Recently someone asked what I do. I responded I am a writer, a blogger she asked are you an influencer. I said no, I’m not an influencer, however I do have a blog and I am the host of Empathetic Witness Podcast with Angelina. If I inspire others to live their best life it makes me happy.
The moments of my life are not staged for social media. Gratitude highlights the positive in my life, and happiness is being present for those moments.
You, and only you, decide how you will react to situations either of your own doing or someone else’s actions. You decide how you will react . It is simple. Don’t make it complicated. If you want to be happy, you can be because you’re in charge of your feelings. all it takes is a change in perspective.
Some situations will take more effort on your part, like a muscle you need to exercise. Remind yourself when you notice your reaction can either hurt or give you peace and change the story.
For example, A regret I had years ago when I did not support a friend, and I felt she felt betrayed by my actions. I later called her to apologize. She understood why behaved as I did, and she said she was okay. A big-hearted response, and it changed my story of the event. I realized in that moment that it was my own perspective that was making me feel badly.
Being 100% authentic, may not always be the easiest route to take. I am grateful to have family who are not afraid to have a good belly laugh and live life not taking themselves too seriously.
My cousin 
My sisters! 
My sisters enjoying a joke! -
Navigating Life
Ottawa River I’m sharing something very personal, a challenging situation I have had most of my life, because I hope that both my struggles and my insights may be of use to you in your life, in some way. In fact, This by far, is the most vulnerable thing I’ve ever shared on a social media platform in the hopes that something about my journey will support you on yours.
For those of you who don’t know, I am a blog writer, podcaster, and the founder of a charitable foundation, seventhgift.ca I’ve held executive positions most of my career.
I had poliomyelitis (polio) as a child, shortly after I started walking. I know that a lot of folks might not know much about polio because it’s been nearly eradicated over the last 65 years. But as a child when I got hit with it, polio was one of the most feared diseases on the planet. You might even question, how I got polio when the polio vaccine was available before I was even born. I am Indigenous; and my parents lived in an Indigenous community. Need I say more?
In those years, polio was killing thousands of children worldwide every summer and paralyzing tens of thousands more. The numbers were in the millions.
We can celebrate that rates of polio have dropped phenomenally around the world since then. In recent years, there have been only a few hundred cases per year of polio in the entire world, mostly in 3rd world countries like Pakistan and Afghanistan.
I have no memory of the incident except what I’ve been told. One day I was paralyzed, and I couldn’t walk. And after a while, the feeling and movement began slowly to return. But the process of regaining use of my legs was slow, and only after many surgeries I was able to walk again.
In the 60’s and 70’s polio was treated by orthopedic doctors because there was little experience understanding that it affected the motor neurons in the spine. I was fitted with long braces on both legs, but eventually only need a short brace on my left leg.
When I entered adulthood, the prognosis was that I would never walk normally, or run due to weakness and discrepancy in my left leg.
After a partial stroke in 2018 I decided to update my brace. it had been over 20 years since I had a new one.
My stroke doctor, who I respect, referred me to an orthopedic specialist, who refused to give me a prescription for the type of brace I had as a child, one which allowed my ankle to move as I walked. She said that with the weakness in my left leg this brace was not suitable for me. When I allerted my specialist, he said he couldn’t do anything about it. He replied to my email when I brought it to his attention saying:
“This Dr. is my department’s expert in this field and you have been seeing her. I’m not passing the buck, but should not this be going to her?” “
She told me clearly, I will not give you a prescription for the brace you want. What was I to do? I felt defeated. Based on research and decades of experience dealing with my challenges, I was convinced that the current rigid brace she recommended would only create complications for me down the road, as I got older. My research showed that a movable ankle is necessary to lubricate joints in my leg, my knees, and my hips. We are not meant to be in a unmovable brace, it is not natural. In 2023 there must be braces that are supportive and yet allow for some natural movement.
I saw my GP, who fortunately understood what I was asking for and, he provided a prescription for a hybrid brace, a mix of a rigid and movable ankle. The process took me two years and now I have exactly the brace I wanted and needed (see the photo). Indeed, I have captured some independence, I feel as though I’ve got my life back to some degree. I recently saw a professional who confirmed that my hip joints were stiff and not rotating in a natural way. I need to mitigate further damage in my hips, and I believe this brace in part is how to do that.
Developing Post-Polio Syndrome (PPS)
Poliovirus Then and Now
I developed post-polio syndrome, or (PPS) when I was 32, and to that point I had not heard the term despite living so many years with polio. You may never have heard of post-polio syndrome, either, and this is true of most physicians too. A significant percentage of the people who got polio and survived, and particularly those who worked extra hard to achieve things despite having been stricken with the disease, have suffered later in their lives from this condition. To add to the complication of PPS, I suffered a partial stroke during surgery in 2018. I have trouble walking; it is not clear how much is related to stroke or the PPS.
The medical literature says this about PPS. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6371137/
It affects between 25–40% of polio survivors. And unlike polio itself, PPS is not contagious. But PPS is serious. Parts of the body that regain movement after being paralyzed by the original polio can again become paralyzed.
https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/post-polio-syndrome/symptoms-causes/syc-20355669
Nearly all polio survivors who develop PPS do so within 15–40 years after their initial polio. When I first noticed symptoms, I was told it was age related and that everybody loses muscle strength. I was 32.
I’m doing the best I can with it, including getting as much exercise as I possibly can, which is a challenge when your legs don’t work well and you worry about falls. I believe in doing all I can with what I’ve got. And, of course I’m doing everything I can that might help me to retain as much quality of life as possible, which is why I fought to get the brace I knew I needed to give me quality of life.
I’m listening, in every moment that I can, for what I can learn and what I can love on this journey. In fact, when I start to feel depressed or start to feel sorry for myself, I will often think about Viktor Frankl and what he endured, and yet he came out on the other side whole . Or I’ll recall some of the things I love. Not just the things I like — that just wouldn’t be enough to shift my energy. But the things and the people I truly love. Like music, reading, writing, and having a purposeful life.
I’m going to be honest. was not all sunshine and roses, especially having to work hard against conventional “expert” medical thinking to get a brace I knew would make my life better. What I have learnt is no matter the challenges, one must look first to give meaning to it, and then move into action to improve their situation. As an Indigenous person I am carried on the backs of my ancestors.
I am my own avocate -
WE ARE NOT GARBAGE; SOMEONE KNOWS SOMETHING And CHOOSES TO REMAIN SILENT
In this blog are my thoughts on the matter of Missing and Murdered Indigenous women in Canada. (MMIW) Caution: reading this blog may be triggering to some.
My intention for writing this blog Is to motivate and inspire you, the reader to want to make a difference in this matter. You might think, how can I make a difference? I have some suggestions below on how you can help. Don’t disappoint me, please. Comment if this topic makes you think or do you remain indifferent.
First, I am an Indigenous woman from northern Alberta. If I went missing, I am confident my family would be concerned and would look for me. Not because I am educated, and a contributing member of society who pays taxes, but because I am a human being, and I matter!
My point is it shouldn’t matter if I were a drug addict, homeless and or earning a six figure income for people to care if get murdered.
My Connection to two victims
I imagine, because of the large number of missing and murdered Indigenous women, there must be several people in Canada who have been touched by either knowing someone who is missing or knowing of someone who is related to someone who is missing or has been murdered.
It is interesting being that I am from a small hamlet of less than 1500 people, and I know TWO Indigenous women who were murdered. A childhood friend first went missing, and then was found murdered in the United States. She was my classmate at Holy Angels Residential school in Fort Chipewyan, Alberta. I remember Sandra as a young girl with a beautiful smile. She was smart too. Years later, I had heard she made some questionable choices in her young life. One summer, she made a fatal mistake. She decided to go hitchhiking into the United States and was not heard from again.
Much later, her family received a call from the RCMP with devastating news that was delivered by phone, not even in person. The officer described how her body was dismembered and disposed of in garbage bags. Her DNA sample was the only way she was identified. Her killer is a person who picked her up and gave her a ride and was never convicted of her murder. Sandra was only 24 years old.
Ms. Amber Tuccaro, whose killer’s voice was heard on a chilling cell phone recording linked above is just one piece in a RCMP investigation, was also from my community, and was the daughter of my older brother’s classmate. We owe it as a society to care and to take some sort of collective action. I challenge everyone reading this blog post to do something. Write the PM’s office and demand he does something about the missing and murdered Canadian Indigenous women and girls. At the very least, share this blog on your social media. Do not underestimate the power you have to make a difference.
If we remain silent, our collective inaction speaks volumes about who we are as a society. The message this sends is loud and clear to me and perhaps to the murderers living freely among us, that Canadian Indigenous women and young girls can be raped, killed, and disposed of like garbage. When did our society become so indifferent to the violence against Indigenous women and girls? That is a rhetorical question because since colonization very little value has been placed upon an Indigenous person’s life.
It must STOP. Where is the outrage?? We need answers! They were human beings, members of our society. We should have protected these Indigenous women.
Sadly, we continue to hear stories of the discovery of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls in 2023 and it will continue until we change our attitude about Indigenous women .
Are you interested enough to ask the questions?
- Who is doing this to the Canadian Indigenous women and girls?
- How many murderers are walking among us?
- Where are the bodies of these women and girls? If nothing else, we need to put them to rest by finding the bodies and bringing them back to their families for a proper respectful burial.
- How can you help
Consider if someone is murdering women and girls it could be someone you know. Even more of a concern, since this is not an isolated or regional matter, and is happening across Canada. There could be many murderers among us. Many Indigenous women have disappeared on the trail of tears highway in BC.
Recently Canadian serial killer Paul Bernardo has been in the news because he was transferred to a medium security prison. I remember in the 90’s, at least 3 people knew it was Bernardo who was raping and murdering teenage girls. These were Caucasian girls.
It makes me angry that as recent as this week an Indigenous young woman’s body was discovered in a landfill, discarded, like garbage. It is incomprehensible the outrage is only coming from Indigenous communities. It reinforces the belief that there is little value in an Indigenous woman’s life. Am I wrong?
Amber’s dismembered body was found in a ditch in Alberta the summer of 2012, Over 20 years ago, two years after she went missing. RCMP are appealing to the public to identify the voice in a recorded call from a cell phone. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mEeyd1sF6g Her murderer was never found.
A woman’s body was recovered from Winnipeg’s landfill on Monday July 17, 2023, the second in 10 months, with more believed to be buried.
The landfill is currently closed as police continue to investigate after 33-year-old Linda Beardy’s body was discovered at the beginning of the week. It should never be reopened as a landfill. “It should be turned into a memorial site because we know that there is more,” it was reported to CBC Manitoba Information Radio host Marcy Markusa on Thursday. In the context of this society bodies of murdered Indigenous women will be dumped if not this land fill, in other places where it would be as difficult to discover.
The truth is I am at a loss. I realize anger doesn’t help but is it enough to motivate you the reader to do something? What would it take to see a modicum of emotion and compassion about these girls and women from you? Well, to be fair, I do believe you care, how could you not care. However, I am not as sure that the enormity of the situation is really appreciated. Until you have personally experienced a loved one murdered you cannot fully understand the anger, the grief, bargaining and acceptance. Let’s say I was able to reach you and you ask the question what can you do? The first thing you can do is get on social media with the hashtag Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women #MMIW. Share this blog with your network encourage them to get on social media with the hashtag #MMIW.
The question remains, where are they? The conservative numbers of missing and murdered women is over 5,000. If your family member disappeared, what would you do to bring awareness.
What Next?Mr. Trudeau, Prime Minister of Canada, does it matter how many more must be reported missing or found pulled from dump sites, having been murdered? The Prime Minister has many priorities, but this must be one of them. The conversation around the discovery in a Manitoba landfill is disgusting, it is about the cost and manpower to continue searching the landfill, so they gave up leaving the enormous task to the Indigenous people. Sadly, I can’t be convinced it were a Settler, a non-Indigenous woman the conversation would be on cost. Nonindigenous women would be concerned that a murder is out there. They would organize themselves so they would be protected and safe. I am afraid the truth is there is virtually no value placed on an Indigenous woman’s life.
Why are the Prime Minister of Canada (PM), Royal Canadian mounted police (RCMP) desensitized to the plight of the surviving families, the parents, the siblings, and the friends of the Indigenous women who have disappeared or been found murdered?
Remember the Pickton murders in BC? Police were informed there may be a serial killer preying on indigenous women from Vancouver’s lower East Side. These concerns fell on deaf ears. It begs the question can Indigenous bodys be more dishonoured, in a landfill or given to pigs to be eaten so the evidence is destroyed. Both are equally disrespectful. Let’s not forget the Gladue case in Alberta. Thankfully, in that case the murder was charged.
In 2014, the Canadian premiers unanimously supported the request for an inquiry. Finding the body of Ms. Tina Fontaine had renewed the call to Mr. Harper then Prime Minister of Canada to call for an inquiry. Still, he remains steadfast against it.
An incomplete list of women and girls who have vanished or been murdered
RCMP Report Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Women
Dr. Sarah Hunt What Should Be Done
Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Women in Canada
Sign the Liberal’s petition calling for a Federal inquiry into Missing and Murdered women
http://youtu.be/dBPo9FgRBj4 Missing and Murdered Aboriginal women in Canada video by grade 11 students.
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The Ugliness Of Social Media
At times, you need to wait to see clearly. Ottawa River affected by forest fires in Quebec It doesn’t matter to me what you believe about politics, religion, or vaccines, or if you are gay, single, or bisexual. I won’t hate you if we disagree. If we’re friends or family, I will look past our differences and look at what we have in common. At the end of the day I can choose to ignore your comments if you don’t agree with me, and get on with my life. You’re free to do the same. So what if you hurt my feelings?
Indeed I might get upset by something you said, but not enough to go to the extreme of disowning you. It has been done to me and I saw it it as an overreaction and it didn’t require the same reaction from me. I won’t play that game. Honestly I tried to get back the relationship, especially with family, (you know who you are). I am human after all, and I have feelings. But, I have moved on.
That said, if I feel you’re open-minded and mature enough to have a debate, I might debate with you. The truth is that no matter what our differences might be, I won’t take your opinion personally because it has nothing to do with me, even if your comments are directed at me. It is merely your opinion. and you have a right to it.
In the wake of the implosion of the Titanic submarine a few weeks ago, social media was flooded with personal opinions. There have been numerous comments on the tragedy and the fallout on social media was swift. Many people have unfriended each other based on what these comments meant to them. To be sure, there were some ugly comments in the news feeds. Emotions were volatile. By and large people held very strong opposing opinions. Mean things were written, and shared widely, largely to people who didn’t even know each other.
I was disappointed to discover even Indigenous peoples joined in the negative conversation. It was mixed with the notion of colonization and the disdain for the uber rich. Many Indigenous peoples see through the lense of colonization. Even celebrations like July 1, or Thanksgiving can seem negative when seen through this lense.
Personally I can separate colonization from the rich throwing caution to the wind to explore. Let’s not forget people died. However, I am thankful there are people brave enough to explore vast oceans, as long as they don’t upset the ecosystem. They are human too and it was their choice. Exploration creates a bigger world, and new discoveries .
Which begs the question, is social media making us inflexible and stupid? Are we becoming more egocentric, in that we believe our opinion matters and is paramount? I think, yes, we are and yes, we most certainly seem to be.
Social media gives us a false sense of courage, and ironically our anonymity online makes us feel important. The fact is that because we are not face to face, looking into the eyes of a person, that we have the courage to espouse our unfiltered and sometime knee jerk reactions to something we have read online . Often without knowing the context, but this can be an act of cowardliness. Furthermore, often we are not held responsible for the fallout that ensues after certain comments are posted. We can simply disappear from the conversation or troll silently following the discussion thread, feeling self-important, and right.
If I were to worry if someone won’t like what I blog about I might never blog at all. I urge you not to give up, exercise your creative outlet to blog.
I give pause when commenting on something I know little about. This is particularly true if I am commenting on something that has struck an emotional cord. Sometimes, I will read something online and say to myself, “OMG!” “idiot”, “Does that person not fact check”, “WTF!”, etc. then, I write a critical and judgmental comment. But I have trained myself to pause and decide whether to delete my comment because my opinion on social media to virtual strangers in the greater scheme of things, does not matter! I say to myself: is it worth my energy to continue?
I like that humanity is culturally diverse with varying points of view. I can’t imagine what this world would look like if everyone thought like me. Well, I can, and it would be awesome!
Overall, if you want a simpler life and keep your blood pressure down, don’t take everything you read on social media as a personal affront to your character, integrity, morals, or ethics. The more you let go of your ego, the freer you are and the less of a jerk you become. And if you are tempted to lash out in haste, it is very therapeutic to write exactly how you are feeling. But take a deep breath and then delete it or share it with a trusted friend. Maybe it will bring you a different perspective!
The foregoing was my opinion and hopefully it was not an affront to anyone who reads it.
Six generations of Indigenous women who never lost themselves on social media. -
Sunday LIVING INTO THE FUTURE
Ottawa River Sunset Over the summer, a technique I learned about in a course was how to live into your future.
We started with setting a date we want to accomplish something, and then you reverse engineer what you hope to accomplish by that date backwards until you reach today’s date.
For example, my friend Wants an organic orchard on his land not too far for from here. He asked me how can he accomplish this using this method? I gave him these steps to follow.
- Create your team. His team is a horticulturist, seed supplier, and a friend who has an orchard near Niagara Falls. He needs at least six members on his team.
- Meet with the team assign tasks and a system for measuring accountability.
- Map what needs to be done each week until you reached the specific date of completion.
- Visualize walking through the orchard look at the details how does the soil underneath your shoes feel is there a scent on the trees. I always have problems with this type of exercise because I have aphantasia, which means I can’t visualize images in my mind, but I can experience the feeling I want. Our brain does not know what is real or imagined, what feeling does a walk through your orchard give you I asked him?
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Inner Peace is in You
Discover Inner Peace 2022 March 13
It was after reading a friend’s Facebook page post it prompted me to write this blog post. Paul is a mediator and his words helped me focus on this piece. Thank you for your wisdom, Paul.
My garden Inner peace comes from a relationship that is based on acceptance, intimacy, and curiosity. Like a garden we need to weed out what does not serve us, and cultivate beauty, resilience,and strength. Sometimes this requires a change in perspective.
The late Zen Master, Thich Hanh Often wrote that peace should not be possessed, it should be a catalyst to help others suffering to discover peace.
As a long time, meditator, I am comfortable exploring my feelings in meditation. To know yourself more fully, explore with wonder each layer of who you are. My meditation practice became a lifeline after a brain injury a few years ago.
In 2018, I was diagnosed with left side neglect ((ischaemic right brain stroke during surgery, which meant at first , my brain could not recognize objects on my left side. I approached my brain injury with curiosity.
This injury led me to change my diet and empowered me to respond to a new version of who I am. I spent many hours researching the brain, reading, and listening to podcasts on neurology.
My first thought was not why me, but how interesting is it that our brain works like this. I was really intrigued. It was not easy but I persevered, and made peace with what happened by understanding what happened in my brain. One can always reconcile a negative event with a positive perspective. It helps the process to have the right question or statements of inquiry that will lead you to peace.
There is no right or wrong way of discovery. You’ll know it when it happens. I have found the key to peace is acceptance. Paul added the following steps, It is not verbatim. Meditate on these statements; to create a new perspective.
- I create my reality (trust). This perspective becomes available once we are aware of cause and effect.
- I am choosing what is happening (trust). Seeing ourselves as being endlessly creative.
- I welcome what is here (accepting our current experience).
- Appreciating physical sensations (intimacy). Appreciating the physical sensations in our body right now invigorates and increases the intensity of what we are experiencing. Think about eating your favorite food. When we slow down and taste each bite we feel more.
- I am the entirety of what I am experiencing (intimacy). What I am experiencing is creating the sense of me.
- Viewing life as being connect to all. (Cause and effect.,we are all connected) A flower does not exist without rain,sun and wind.
- I don’t know what I’m experiencing (Curiosity). Letting go of all ideas and labels about what it is we are experiencing. Looking at life as if we were a newborn baby seeing things for the first time. (wonder)
- I don’t know what I am. Creates space for possibilities.
- I experience a sense of excitement about what is about to happen next. Discovery of endless possibilities.
Discovering your way to a peace is not easy, we all have our own pain, sorrows, and fears. Give yourself time and space to embrace and recognize how you’re suffering. Be compassionate and gentle when,Starting an inquiry to self. However, remember there’s no right or wrong way to do this.
My meditation space/sauna -
Luezan Tue called Our Name
My family were environmentalists well before the term became popularized.
We are Denesuline people, from Northern Saskatchewan. We are strong, proud. Stewards, of Mother Earth. We take this responsibility seriously.
In the 70’s our dad answered the call of the land, and took his older children, to our traditional hunting lands. They hadn’t been back there for over 40 Decades until last summer of 2021. This is my dad’s legacy.
He answered the calling of the traditional lands, Luezan Tue, and inspired four generations to return to Djeskelni. He passed his baton to the next generation. He reaffirmed our sacred connection to the land. Everyone he took back to the land were transformed and carries the calling deep within their spirit.
In August, 2021, a small group of about of 17 family members went back to our land, organized by my nephew, Donald Deranger, who had gone there with Baba in the 1970s. They went to spread my late brother Patrick’s ashes around the lake to fulfill his last wish.It is clear to me that Patrick’s death facilitated a renewed interest back to our traditional land. The family answered the calling to return to the land. It is difficult to deny how powerful this spiritual calling is.
FAMILY MISSION
- Increase the quality of life for seven generations by building upon our rich Denesuline traditional heritage based on being stewards of the land, lending a helping hand, and create business ventures to generate profits and financial independence. Our family embodies Dene cultural tradition the pillars of which is respect, and to honour the teachings of our ancestors.
My family, like most Indigenous families, is complicated, affected by intergenerational trauma of colonialism, and residential school.
We have sometimes temporarily lost sight of family, our connection to each other and the spirit of our traditional lands. We are easily triggered and often will cut off one another from our life.
That said, I adore my Dene family, dysfunctions and all.
I read somewhere when you change the beginning of your story it changes the end of the story.
After I wrote this blog piece I went back and changed the beginning of our story.
I remain hopeful for the next seven generations. That they will continue to answer the call of our traditional lands. I see renewed interest in some of my nephews and nieces. The calling is strong in them, and I am hopeful.
Family Dene Camp 2021 
Djeskelni Bech’anie Decheny’ah Camp, on the south shore of Luezan Tue within the southwest region of the Etthen Edeli dialect region, about 40 miles south of Tu Cho, 
3 generations, my nephew Donald Deranger, his son, and grandchild. 
Sand dunes on our traditional lands 
Older sisters preparing wild meat from our land for the feast. 
Brother-in-law John Mercredi (not at the camp) when you listen closely to Dene drum you hear the heartbeat of the land. Acknowledgment
My brother, Roger for keeping traditional prophecies of the Denesuline alive.
My nephew Donald Deranger for holding the baton for the next generations, and last, but so important, my late brother Patrick, a sacred pipe holder for passing the baton to his daughter when he gave her the sacred responsibility and honour of spreading his ashes on our traditional land.
Patrick Deranger -
2022 striding into the new year with eyes wide open
My intention in 2022 is not about losing weight although I could stand to lose a few pounds, it is not about exercising more. I could do more of that too.
My intention, my goal for 2022 is to not live small, to show up in life because my actions matter and the people in my life deserve to see the very best version of myself, Which is to show up in service to indigenous peoples struggling with addressing their trauma.
The next Being a Leader course starts in January 2022. If your interested in creating the best life for yourself connect with Tanyss Munro tanyssmunro@gmail.com 2022 I will continue my journey of growth and transformation, particularly as it pertains to my foundation Seventh Generation Indigenous Foundation and Training. (G.I.F.T) I’m really excited To be part of a group of extraordinary humans on the foundation. Our vision has capabilities to be a game changer in the delivery of services to indigenous communities across Alberta.
First, I am excited to confirm renowned physician and expert on trauma Dr. Gabor Mate has agreed to support GIFT foundation in the capacity as advisor to our curriculum writers. secondly, we start the new year by inviting additional board members who hold expertise in the areas of psychology, sociology,, law, and curriculum development.
My late dad, Isidore and older brother Fred Deranger -
January 1, 2022!
Living on the river shore is captivating, every day there is something phenomenal happening on the river, the neighbors made a ice rink over the weekend. -
ANOTHER SPIN AROUND THE SUN 2025
Today, I start another year around the sun. It is lightly snowing, -10 in Ottawa. Looking back on the last year, I acknowledge the emotional progress I made.
Every morning, I meditate sometimes for 30 minutes but never less than 15 minutes. I write in my journal.
I start my day with tea. , I discovered a new tea from the New York Tea Society, Master Cho white tea. At first, I thought that my new friend Pennie oversold the tea with her description of it, but she didn’t. It is extraordinary. The first sip sits on my tongue expands like a warm blanket. it is smooth with no bitter notes. It quickly became my favorite.
After my tea I will do some brief scrolling on social media I like Instagram and X. I upload a picture with music on Instagram that shows the moment I am having.
This morning that’s exactly what I did. I am regularly the first person in my household to wake up. I have always been a morning person.
What I am excited about today is interviewing a classmate of mine. We were at Holy Angels Residential School together. She’s the same age as my big sister, Rose. reconnected with my friend/cousin about a month ago. we have both been on a journey of awakening and getting in touch with our soul’s journey. I am feeling so much appreciation having her in my life in this moment.
Trauma is a common theme linked to Indian residential schools. It involves how we become triggered and how we can recognize that. The theme also explores how we can grow emotionally and spiritually as humans. That is what the conversation I will be having today with my friend Ruby on my podcast Empathetic Witness.
I believe people come into my life to teach me how to be authentic. I am waking up to who I am. Even the triggers are meant to create a space to learn more about myself. Nevertheless, I must be aware to see the impact of my unconscious actions. To that end, I have bought myself a beautiful leather journal to record my progress this year around the sun. How are you growing?
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A Note of Appreciation For Ruby
Reconnecting with you after all these years feels like something more than coincidence. It’s almost like a gentle nudge from the universe. It reminds us that certain people circle back into our lives at exactly the right moment.
Over the past month, I’ve felt a deep gratitude growing in my heart. You and I have both been on such meaningful journeys—awakening, healing, listening more closely to our souls. And somehow, in this moment, our paths have aligned again. It feels grounding. It feels affirming. It feels like coming home.
Thank you for being here, open, and authentic.
Thank you for sharing your wisdom, your reflections, and your spirit.
I truly appreciate having you in my life right now. We are both exactly as we are, evolving and remembering who we’re meant to be.There is something beautiful about reconnecting with someone who sees you not just as you were, but as you’re becoming. I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful for you.
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First Nations? Why it is a Big Deal
Indigenous Identity — A Necessary Reckoning
the picture above is my dad and older brother Freddy
Thomas King’s admission that he falsely claimed Cherokee identity forces a hard truth back into the light. And I will say it plainly: Indigenous identity is not an aesthetic. It is not a performance. It is not something you get to declare because it benefits you.
For generations, Indian policy in North America was designed to erase us. To kill the Indian within the child. to shame us for our languages. It outlaw our spiritual practices, disconnected us from family, and push us to forget who we were. Our ancestors were beaten for speaking their mother tongue. Our ceremonies were banned. Children were renamed, numbered, and punished for being Native Indian.
We were told not to be Indian.
And now—
people are pretending to be Indian.
For grants.
For fame.
For book deals.
For movie roles.
For careers built on stolen cultures and borrowed names.The irony is not only bitter — it is infuriating.
Thomas King “looked the part.”
Buffy Saint-Marie “looked the part.”
Grey Owl “looked the part.”They performed Indigeneity, and the public rewarded them for it. They were embraced, platformed, awarded. Meanwhile, the actual Nations they claimed — Cherokee Nation, Plains Cree communities, the Métis Nation — spoke out firmly. They repeatedly stated: These individuals do not belong to us.
But institutions didn’t listen.
Publishers didn’t listen.
Governments didn’t listen.
Because the stereotype looked “right.”That is the violence of pretendianism:
it rewards performance over kinship, appearance over accountability, stereotype over truth.Indigenous identity is not something you self-appoint.
It is not created through costume, hair, or skin tone.
It is not about blood quantum or romantic claims to a distant ancestor.Identity comes from:
- Kinship
- Community
- Lived relationship
- The Nation that claims you
You can’t claim a People who do not claim you.
So when Indigenous communities say who belongs and who does not, the world must listen. Indigenous identity belongs to us, not to the public imagination. It certainly does not belong to those who find “being Indian” suddenly useful.
Why Refusing to Apologize Is Ethically and Morally Wrong
The troubling aspect of Thomas King’s refusal to apologize lies in his deception. Additionally, it shows an absolute disregard for the harm he caused. King benefited for decades—financially, professionally, socially—from claiming a Cherokee identity that was never his. He wrote books as an “Indigenous” author. He held positions meant for Indigenous scholars. He won awards intended to uplift Indigenous voices. He built an entire public legacy on a lie.
And when confronted with that truth, he offered nothing.
No apology.
No accountability.
No recognition of the harm.
No humility.That silence is not neutral—it is an ethical failure.
It tells Indigenous people that their identity can be taken without consequence.
It tells the public that lying about being Indigenous is merely an “inconvenience,” not a form of exploitation.
It tells publishers, institutions, and governments that a celebrated writer is above responsibility.King’s refusal to apologize compounds the harm. An apology is not just about personal remorse. It is part of restoring what was taken. His false identity took opportunities from real Indigenous writers. It confused and miseducate generations of readers. It contributed to a long history of non-Indigenous people using Indigenous identity for personal gain. Meanwhile, the original Peoples were punished. They were also dispossessed and silenced.
And this is where the moral weight becomes undeniable:
For more than a century, Indian policy in North America was designed to “kill the Indian within.” These policies included residential schools, pass systems, outlawed ceremonies, and forced relocation. The aim was to shame us out of being who we are. And now, in a cruel twist, non-Indigenous people slip into our identities because it benefits them.
To take an identity your ancestors were never punished or beaten for is not a small matter. They were never denied education, land, or dignity. Refusing to apologize when the truth comes out adds to the issue. It is an insult layered on generations of suffering.
An apology can’t undo the past.
But refusing one sends a clear message:He believes he owes Indigenous people nothing.
And that is the deepest moral failure of all.
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TRADITIONAL KNOWLEDGE KEEPER
Chapter: Knowledge Keepers
“The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.
When you follow your bliss, doors will open where there were none before.”
— Joseph CampbellMy grandmother, Christine Marie Laddi Adam, was born on January 11, 1902. She was born near Fond du Lac, Saskatchewan, on the trapline of her parents, Pierre Laddi and Sophie Tsaytthore. She was Denesuline, born into a world of caribou migrations, spruce forests, and ancient teachings. She lived to see that world fade and another rise — one shaped by colonizers, mines, and machines.
She married Chrysostome Adam of Fort Chipewyan on July 8, 1918, when she was sixteen. Together they raised eight children, including my mother, Therese Adam, who was born in 1919. Their marriage was one of partnership and endurance, bound by both faith and tradition. They remained together for sixty-seven years until my grandfather’s passing in Uranium City.heir home was more than a shelter; it was a sanctuary. People from Fond du Lac, Black Lake, or Stony Rapids often traveled south for medical care. During these trips, they stayed with my grandparents. They were never turned away. A warm meal, a soft bed, and kind conversation awaited them. It wasn’t charity—it was love expressed through hospitality.
Christine and Chrysostome believed that the land teaches us to share what we have. Just as the caribou sustains the people, so too must the people sustain one another. Around their fire, stories flowed, laughter echoed, and sorrow was eased. They made space for healing, for listening, for remembering.
Christine said that when her husband returned from hunting, she would hear the bells of his dog team. She would recognize them long before he arrived. She would rush outside to greet him, knowing the sound meant he was safe.
In their kindness, I see the embodiment of what Campbell meant by “following one’s bliss.” My grandparents found purpose in giving, in helping, in preserving dignity. Through their actions, they imparted wisdom that is older than any book. It teaches that our humanity is measured by how we treat each other.
Grandma Christine often spoke of how different the world had become. In her youth, a boy began hunting by age twelve. A girl started sewing even younger. She learned to prepare hides, bead caribou skin, and make clothing for her family. “It was our school,” she said. By fourteen, girls were considered adults, ready for marriage, and skilled in the arts of survival.
The Dene beadwork of her generation was unmatched — roses stitched with caribou sinew, each petal radiating patience and pride. Her craftsmanship was exquisite, and her work was sought after throughout the north.
She spoke of the tea dances. These were gatherings lit by open fires. Families brewed tea and danced gently to the drums. These were not like the southern powwows with feathers and spectacle; they were quiet ceremonies of unity, devotion, and balance. No invitations were ever sent — a few gunshots into the sky were enough to summon the nearby camps.
Christine said that when her husband returned from hunting, she would hear the bells of his dog team. She would recognize them long before he arrived. She would rush outside to greet him, knowing the sound meant he was safe.
Their lives were measured by the rhythm of nature. The caribou provided food, hides, and tools; the land offered everything they needed. In those days, women tanned hides using caribou brains and smoke, softening them to a golden hue. Each family had its own smokehouse. It was a low, cone-shaped teepee. Smoldering wood gave the leather its distinctive scent.
They built a life of balance and dignity. Christine once said, “A man had respect for his wife if she worked hard and did not complain. That was love.”heir home was more than a shelter; it was a sanctuary. People from Fond du Lac, Black Lake, or Stony Rapids travelled south for medical care. When they did, they stayed with my grandparents. They were never turned away. A warm meal, a soft bed, and kind conversation awaited them. It wasn’t charity—it was love expressed through hospitality.
Christine and Chrysostome believed that the land teaches us to share what we have. Just as the caribou sustains the people, so too must the people sustain one another. Around their fire, stories flowed, laughter echoed, and sorrow was eased. They made space for healing, for listening, for remembering.
In their kindness, I see the embodiment of what Campbell meant by “following one’s bliss.” My grandparents found purpose in giving, in helping, in preserving dignity. Through their actions, they passed on a wisdom older than any book. Our humanity is measured by how we treat each other.
But she also knew sorrow. She lived long enough to see her people struggle with loss — of land, language, and culture. Alcohol and colonization brought grief to many homes. “In the old days,” she would sigh, “we had no need for drink. The dance, the song, the stories — they were enough.”
Her life stretched across eras — from the days of dog teams to the roar of aircraft over Lake Athabasca. When the uranium mines opened in the 1950s, she and my grandfather witnessed strangers arrive. They cut through the forests where their ancestors once set traps. “This was all jack pine,” she said, “before they built the RCMP barracks.”
Even in her later years, she found joy in small things. She played poker with her friends, laughed easily, and never lost her wit. My grandfather, a gentle man with a quiet humor, loved to tease us children with his cane. He gave each of us a Dene name — gifts of identity we carry still.
He was never loud or harsh. I never heard him raise his voice.
Their story is one of endurance, faith, and devotion to the land. Together, they bridged generations — from the nomadic caribou camps to the industrial north. Their love and strength formed the roots of our family tree.
Footnotes
- Government of Canada. Genealogical Records, Red Series: Pierre Laddi and Sophie Tsaytthore Family Line. Saskatchewan Archives. 1911 Census, Fond du Lac.
- “Christine Adam, Uranium City Elder Recalls Early Life,” Alberta Local News, ca. 1980.
- National Geographic, “Sophie Laddi — A Dene Matriarch of the North,” (feature article, c. 1960).
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33 years and counting
My Love,
Thirty-three years — and it still feels like yesterday that we met. Two months from our first date to “I do.” A whirlwind that turned into a lifetime.
This gift is a small symbol of what we’ve written together. It shows a story of laughter, courage, and love. This story keeps growing deeper. Every page, every line, still unfolding.
You are my heart’s companion, my calm, my adventure. I’d choose you again in a heartbeat, just as I did then.
With all my love,
Always, Angelina -
The Last Denesuline Traditional Marriage
My extraordinary mama
“In every marriage, there is not only the joining of two people, but of two worlds — one visible, one spiritual.”
— Joseph Campbell
IMy mother, Therese Deranger (née Adams). She was the matriarch of our family. I also write about my father, Isidore Deranger. Their union was one of the last traditional Denesuline marriages of its kind.
Mama was born in Old Fort, Alberta, on May 8, 1919, the eldest of eleven children. She married my father by traditional custom in July 1933 at Fond du Lac, Saskatchewan. She had just turned fifteen. He was in his twenties. This was not unusual among the Denesuline, where marriages were unions of families, land, and survival.
Mama’s life bridged two worlds. One was the old way of life on the land. The other was the new world brought by settlement. She raised sixteen surviving children through decades of change, from dog teams to airplanes, from tents to modern homes. The word that best describes her is tenacious — she never gave up.
When I think of her life, I see a woman like Pocahontas. She is not the romanticized version, but the real one. She is strong, brave, and grounded in the realities of northern life. She lived through poverty, loss, and transformation. She raised us without running water or electricity, yet always kept a warm and welcoming home.
Mama once told me she had wanted to go to school, but my grandfather, Chris Adam, said no. Later, she would say that was a blessing — she escaped the fate of those taken to residential schools. Still, her desire to learn stayed with her. I remember her joy when she took an adult education course. She beamed as she wrote our names for the first time, her eyes shining with pride.
She was a teenage bride and a mother before sixteen. Her early years of marriage were hard. Sometimes, she ran away to her parents’ home, but each time her father brought her back to her husband. It was their way. She carried that resentment quietly all her life.
Mama gave birth to nineteen children, most delivered without doctors or hospitals. Once, in early March, she walked ten miles through snow. She did this to reach a midwife’s home. She needed to give birth to my brother. Today, births happen surrounded by medical teams, technology, and comfort. But Mama’s generation understood birth as a natural ceremony — something sacred and enduring. Her strength came from her deep connection to nature and trust in the women who guided her.
She endured more than her share of hardship. I once asked why she hated the sound of the wind. She told me it reminded her of being alone in a tent with her children. They were sick and feverish. Her eardrums burst from the pressure. Another time, she lost a baby in the cold of winter, only two weeks old. Her grief was immense, but she kept going.
In her thirties, she survived breast cancer and eleven surgeries, always returning home to her children. She was hospitalized once. She told us she saw a man surrounded by light at the foot of her bed. She prayed, asking him not to take her yet because her children still needed her. She lived another forty years.
There were difficult times during the sixties and seventies, but she overcame them with determination. One day she simply decided — no more drinking, no more smoking — and that was that. Her will was iron. She gave her all to us.
Mama’s life was not just struggle. She found joy in travel, family, and prayer. Her beadwork was exquisite — delicate caribou-hide jackets and moccasins adorned with roses. She would scold me for using long threads, saying, “Don’t be lazy, make your thread shorter.” She was right — shorter threads meant patience and perfection.
She was known across the north for her skill and generosity. Every summer, she traveled to the Lac Ste. Anne Pilgrimage, Canada’s largest Indigenous healing gathering. She loved reconnecting with family and friends there. She always returned with bottles of holy water and medals to give as gifts.
Her bread pudding at Christmas was famous, and in summer she baked bannock on the wood stove outside. She found happiness in small things — family laughter, clean floors, good bread, and prayer.
In my twenties, I took the Forum course with Landmark Education. It changed my life and my relationship with my mother. I realized I had been holding her to expectations she never promised to fulfill. When I chose to accept her as she was — not who I thought she should be — everything changed.
I saw that she gave me everything she had. Her mother gave her everything she had. And now, as a parent, I give my children all I have — holding nothing back. That is the legacy she left us.
Mama’s love was vast, even when unspoken. Parents of her generation didn’t say “I love you,” but they showed it through their actions. She was the rock that held us through poverty, loss, and change.
She passed away on February 11, 2016, in Fort McMurray, Alberta, at the age of ninety-six. She was remembered in the Fort McMurray Today newspaper as “the last traditionally raised, nomadic Denesuline woman.”
I’ve come to see everything she did as an act of love. You can discover that, too, with your parents. Remember their eyes, their love, their courage. Carry that with you when your heart feels heavy. You have the power to see them as they were — human, imperfect, and giving everything they had.A Daughter’s Revelation
Through that course, I came to discover something profound: she had given me everything she had. Her mother had given her everything she had. And now, as a mother myself, I give everything I have. None of us held anything back.
That realization healed something inside me. I chose to accept her for who she was—not who I wanted her to be. From that moment, my heart softened. I saw the vastness of her love, even when it was unspoken. Her strength, her faith, her endurance—they were all expressions of love.
You can discover that, too, with your own parents. Remember their eyes, their love, and their courage. Carry that memory when your heart feels heavy. Forgive what you must. See them as human—imperfect but giving everything they had.
She gave me strength. She gave me life. And through her, I learned the power of never giving up.
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Cultivating Empathy: Steps to Center Yourself During Conflict
Finding our Soul’s purpose
We must stay centered and grounded when experiencing a conflict. Respond with kindness and give space for others to express themselves. It is easy for a traumatized person to get traumatized by something someone said.
When an older person chastised me, I felt like a powerless child. There wasn’t space allowed for me. I tried to find my balance in center, I stopped talking and let her finish.
But the tension in me was explosive. Later, I contacted my daughter. She was so gracious and gave me perspective.
This person had been estranged from her daughter a year or so before her passing. I think she was, in her own way, trying to prevent me from feeling the regret that she feels.
When you respond with kindness and compassion, you speak to your soul. This process reinforces the neural pathways in your brain for calmness and empathy. It is important to remember that everyone is fighting their own battles. They do not always express themselves in the best way. By giving others the space to express themselves, we inspire an environment of love. Responding with kindness, we find our soul’s purpose. We help create a more harmonious and understanding environment for all.
Today, I will continue to practice responding with kindness and empathy, even in the face of conflict. I will remind myself to stay centered and grounded. I will always give others the space they need to express themselves. By doing so, I am helping others. I am also reinforcing positive neural pathways in my brain. These pathways lead to calmness and empathy.
It is important to remember that it is not okay to chastise another adult. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect and dignity, regardless of the situation. We can tackle conflict in a constructive way. Responding with kindness and compassion leads to respectful interactions. This approach prevents negative behaviors like chastising or belittling others. It is essential to create a culture of understanding and empathy, where all individuals feel valued and
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JOYFUL SOUL
MY SOUL’S PROFILE
I’ve had several conversations with friends, and the common thread is people are searching for their purpose. – “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.”
– Pablo Picasso
I listened to a podcast, and the guest said you can’t find your purpose filling out a questionnaire online.
Maybe not but it’s a start and it gets you reflecting. And I did just that. I filled out a questionnaire that Deepak Chopra had to find one’s soul profile. The idea is that if you can discover your soul’s profile, and recognize it, you can realize your full potential. This understanding takes you to new heights.
My answers after reflecting on the questionnaire.
- I am energy boundless and expansive
- My aspiration is Peace, love and effortless living
- If I had all the resources I needed, what would I do? Who would gain from my efforts? First Nations would help because I would make the GIFT Foundation seventhgift.ca a worldwide initiative and available to Indigenous peoples globally the wisdom of Dr. Bastien.
- What am I grateful for my legs feet, my health and my family
- What did I feel during peak experiences like falling in love seeing my children be born. I felt lightness, pure joy, time stood still. In awe of the wonder of nature. I Welcomed more occurrence of synchronicity
- What would I like my contribution to be to my family to my organization, to the world. My contribution be to my family; community the world is to discover a new world knowing our reality is created by our thoughts
- Who are my 3 heroes and why? My 3 heroes are (A). Deepak Chopra because of his boundless energy and out-of-the-box thinking on quantum physics. (B). My Mother Teresa Deranger For her strength tenacity and generosity. (C). My ancestors who lived through colonization and the loss of hunting and trapping lifestyle. I admire their kindness, strength, and their consideration of the next 7 generations.
- What are the three qualities I look for in a friend 1. honesty, 2. loyalty, 3. humor,
- What do I contribute to my relationships? I contribute by listening. I offer a safe space for sharing. My strength is pointing people to discover their purpose.
- What is my legacy as a leader? My legacy is the knowledge that I give. I offer people the opportunity to discover that pain and trauma are choices.
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Let’s Do Better
National Truth and Reconciliation Day
September 30, 2025
I am a survivor of Holy Angels in Fort Chipewyan. back row 2nd wearing a scarf. I carry both hope and pain in my spirit on this day. I spent 7 years there.
Many wear orange shirts in solidarity. I acknowledge the effort behind this gesture. Yet, I find it to be somewhat hollow. Many survivors face a day filled with the weight of memories and loss. This overshadows the well-meaning intentions of social media campaigns.
In 2025, it is deeply troubling that many First Nations still lack access to clean drinking water. This injustice should be at the forefront of our conversations today, rather than merely recounting painful histories. The wearing of orange shirts is only a first step. We must collectively do more.
The legacy of Indian residential schools has left deep scars in our communities. These scars manifest in issues like addiction, unsafe drinking water, and homelessness. These challenges are not just statistics. They are the lived experiences of individuals and families. These people continue to suffer from the trauma inflicted by these institutions.
Truth and reconciliation demand more than remembrance; they need genuine understanding, collaboration, and support. Yet, we have much ground to cover.
Today, I feel an urgent need to protect our survivors from the burden of reliving their traumas. This day often becomes a stage for them to recount stories. These stories reopen trauma and the wounds that are usually borne silently. Many are compelled to share their pain on this day. Sharing forces them to confront their trauma all over again.
I ponder daily on my own experiences, not just on this designated day. My heart is saddened for those who must publicly revisit their past sufferings at various organized events. I long for a day when they can simply feel seen and heard.
National Truth and Reconciliation Day was established after the 94 Calls to Action from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Ideally, it should be a day of healing, but too often, it feels like a raw and open wound. The focus can become skewed, placing unrealistic demands on Indigenous peoples to lead a day that is inherently theirs.
As we watch this day, let us shift our focus to actions that genuinely support Indigenous communities. We should invest in their priorities, listen to their needs, and stand in solidarity. This should be the essence of our remembrance, not an exercise in reliving trauma.
True reconciliation requires working together, building understanding, and fostering a spirit of partnership. It is only through individual commitment that we can collectively create meaningful change. What can you do as an individual? Start by educating yourself, advocating for policy changes, and supporting Indigenous-led initiatives. We still have a long way to go.
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Honoring My Grandparents Chris and Christina Adam
Grandparents Chris Christina married 60 years
Grandparents — Chris and Christina Adam
“A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.” – Joseph Campbell
In this chapter, I write about my grandparents, Chris and Christina Adam, from Fond du Lac, Saskatchewan. They were the roots of our family. They carried stories and prophecies. They bridged ancestral ways with the challenges of a new world pressing in on the Dene.
My grandparents lived close to the land. Their home was shaped by the rhythms of the seasons. It was like many of our people’s homes. Hunting, fishing, gathering, and storytelling by firelight defined their lives. Their words carried the wisdom of generations. They taught us that the land was alive. They taught us that dreams were messages. They also taught us that prophecies were not to be taken lightly.
From them I inherited more than memory. I inherited teachings that still guide me. They taught me that survival comes from resilience. Language holds our identity. Stories carry truth long after the storyteller has gone.
Our grandmother Christina, in particular, was a quiet strength. She kept the family bound together through faith. She enjoyed playing cards and was an expert poker player. Chris, our grandfather, carried stories of the old ways, speaking of spirits and prophecies, warning of changes to come. He loved to tease us young ones with his cane. And he gave us names in Dene. Together, they embodied the resilience of the Denesuline. They endured dislocation. They experienced loss. The weight of colonial systems pressed against our lives.
These grandparents were also part of a longer lineage. This lineage included my great-grandmother. Her story was remarkable enough to be noted in National Geographic in 1979. It showed how the lives of Indigenous women carried strength, survival, and cultural continuity into the modern world.¹
Their legacy is not measured in possessions but in memory. Through Chris and Christina Adam, I felt the unbroken chain of ancestry. Through them, I understood that my life was not just my own. It is part of something larger. This story began generations before me and will continue long after.
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DENE WAYS
Oral Tradition — The Living Heartbeat of Our Denesuline Culture
“Myths are public dreams, and dreams are private myths.” – Joseph Campbell
In this chapter, I write about oral tradition as the heartbeat of our Denesuline culture.
Oral traditions are the living foundation of who we are. Long before our people read or write, we were masterful historians, philosophers, and scientists of the land. We passed knowledge from Elder to child. It went from heart to heart and voice to spirit. These stories were never just entertainment. They were teachings: our law, our maps, our medicine.
In our family, storytelling was sacred. As a child, I would sit quietly, listening as my older siblings and elders spoke late into the night. They told of how the world came to be. They shared how to live in balance with the land. They also spoke of the prophecies that guided our people through times of darkness. We listened with our whole being. To interrupt was not just rude — it was to risk missing a thread of sacred knowledge.
Roger and Peter, my brothers, were a keepers of the Dene prophecies. They told stories that had been passed down through generations. These stories spoke of times when the land would change. They described how we would survive. Peter taught us through his humor, his presence, and his firm belief in our teachings. Dora kept the language alive by insisting we speak Dene in our conversations. She grounded us in the rhythm of our ancestors’ tongues. Annie, with her generosity and kind nature passed on stories through food and stories of our grandparents.. Each sibling held a different strand of the web. Together, they taught me that oral tradition is not only spoken. It is lived.
Our language is key to these traditions. Dene is not just a way of speaking, but a way of being. It expresses things English can’t. We are not separate from nature — we are part of it. To speak Dene is to understand your place in the world in a deeply relational way. Colonial systems sought to erase our language. They were not just stealing words. They were severing our connection to the world. And yet, in our home, the language endured. Even now, I speak it proudly, knowing that each word carries the breath of my ancestors.
I often think about how our mother, Therese, knew exactly when a story needed to be told. She never said, “Let me teach you something.” She simply began. By the time she finished, the lesson was planted like a seed. That is the Dene way.
When my son Andrew was a baby, my mom came to visit us. We set up a camera in front of her as she beaded. From time to time, she would tell a story or share a memory. Those moments were quiet, beautiful, and precious — her voice offering teachings in the most natural way. Knowledge was passed down like this: not forced, not formal, but flowing like a river through daily life.
Even today, I carry the rhythm of those teachings in my voice. Whether I am writing, speaking to youth, or sharing knowledge, I know the stories flow through me. They are not mine alone. They belong to all of us.
I do not partake in Cree ceremonies like sweats, and neither did my parents. My mother and father never participated in sweat ceremonies. They said it was not the Dene way. Our teachings came through story, through language, and through daily living — not through that particular practice.
The teachings of the Dene, when first spoken, are not always clear. As children, we listened, but we did not always understand. With time and experience, the lessons revealed themselves. A story told at ten years old carried one meaning; the same story told at thirty carried another. This is the way knowledge deepens, unfolding like layers over a lifetime.
This is how we remember who we are. This is how we survive. my brother Freddy with my dad Isidore Deranger
We are the stories. And we are the tellers.
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From the Shores of the Ottawa River 
