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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. -
Resilience Through Oral History: The Dene Experience
Oral traditions are the vibrant essence of our Denesuline culture. Long before written words existed, knowledge flowed from mouth to ear, from Elder to child, and from heart to heart. These narratives were not merely for amusement; they were vessels of law, memory, instruction, and prophecy.
In our family, storytelling was a means of survival. It was how we retained our identity. Each sibling proudly carried this flame. Roger spoke in riddles and prophecies, urging us to heed the old ones’ warnings. Peter shared teachings about the animal people and the natural world, emphasizing our connection to the land and its lessons. Dora relayed stories of medicinal plants, always infused with humor and respect. Annie, our language teacher, kept the Dene tongue alive. She wove tales that were not just spoken but sung in our ancestral language.
Remarkably, the Canadian government attempted to erase our identity through residential schools, forced assimilation, and silencing. Despite these efforts, our family has preserved the Dene language. This survival is nothing short of miraculous. Speaking and sharing stories in our language today stands as an act of resistance, love, and continuity. here with my brothers at Holy Angels Indian residential school.
As children, we were cautioned against believing in “those old stories,” labeled as superstitions by missionaries. Yet now, I understand—they were sacred maps. Our ancestors embedded within those tales our laws, ethics, and essential survival skills. My siblings have ensured these stories stay alive.
I am deeply grateful for my family’s resilience. Each member continues the oral tradition in their unique way—through ceremony, conversation, and laughter around the fire. The stories endure because we still listen.
In a world that often prioritizes speed and forgets its roots, our oral traditions serve as our guiding compass. Through them, we remember. Through them, we heal. My oldest Sister Pix. Late brother, Roger and oldest brother Peter.
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Isidore Deranger
Chapter 7: Baba’s Traditional Lifestyle and Its Influence on Our Family
Baba’s traditional lifestyle profoundly influenced our family dynamics and values. As a trapper and hunter, he was deeply connected to the land, relying on its resources to supply for us. His way of life was rooted in the teachings of our ancestors. They understood the importance of respecting nature. Our ancestors also knew how to live harmoniously with it. This connection instilled in me a profound appreciation for the natural world and a responsibility to protect it.
Growing up, My brothers often accompanied my father on hunting trips. During these adventures, I learned firsthand the skills needed to thrive in the wilderness. I also gained knowledge crucial to survival. These experiences were not merely about hunting. They taught lessons in patience. They highlighted respect for animals. They helped in understanding the delicate balance of nature. Baba taught them how to track animals, recognize signs of their presence, and interpret their behavior. These invaluable skills grounded them in our Dene culture see y and reinforced the importance of self-sufficiency.
Moreover, Baba’s traditional lifestyle emphasized the significance of community and family bonds. He often shared stories of our ancestors, highlighting values like cooperation, generosity, and mutual support. Our family gatherings were steeped in tradition, where we celebrated our culture through storytelling, sharing meals, and honoring our heritage. These moments brought us closer. They fostered a strong sense of identity and belonging. This feeling continues to resonate within our family today.
Baba’s influence extended beyond practical skills. His stoic nature and quiet strength served as a model for navigating challenges with grace. While he did not have expressed his feelings openly, his actions spoke volumes. He demonstrated that true strength lies in enduring hardship and supporting loved ones, even in silence. This lesson shaped my understanding of resilience, teaching me that sometimes actions speak louder than words.
Even as the world around us changed, Baba’s commitment to his traditional lifestyle remained steadfast. He faced pressures to conform to modern ways but never wavered in his beliefs. This dedication to our culture instilled in them pride. It taught them who they are as a Dene, It showed them where they came from. Embracing our traditions not only honors our ancestors. It also preserves our identity for future generations.
I think about Baba’s life and influence. I recognize that his traditional values have guided my own life. They remind me of the importance of staying connected to my roots. It’s equally crucial to honor the teachings passed down through generations. His legacy lives on in how I approach challenges. I am committed to preserving our Dene culture and traditions for future generations. my dad as a young boy with an uncle who raised him.
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Letting Go of Control Through Mindfulness
Non-Attachment
We are creatures of habit, often living on autopilot. But until we start paying attention—until we become mindful—life can pass us by in the blink of an eye.
For me, mindfulness means being available and aware in each moment. It hasn’t always been easy, but with regular meditation practice, it has become more natural over time.
I used to tightly control every aspect of my life—my relationships, my children, even things far beyond my influence. I’ll admit it: I was a control freak. As a methodical planner, I would think through every possible outcome before taking action. But living this way was exhausting. It’s stressful when so much in life is beyond our control. So the real question is: how do we let go of that need to control—and do we even want to?
As I began meditating more regularly, I discovered powerful teachings online—particularly from Bodhidharma—and I slowly began to ease my grip. Now, when I feel the urge to control, I pause and ask myself, Does this really matter right now?
Take a trip to to speak at a conference in Australia a few years ago. I found myself dreading the long journey to get there. But midway through complaining to a friend, I had an epiphany: the journey doesn’t start when I land in Melbourne. The travel is part of the journey. So I made a conscious decision to embrace the whole experience—even the uncomfortable parts. If the flight was delayed, if I sat next to a grumpy passenger, if my luggage got lost—so be it. I told myself, Ha! It just doesn’t matter. It will be what it is. No worries.
And then, the airline rescheduled my flight. I was no longer traveling with my husband and son on the first leg. We’d meet in Los Angeles and continue together from there. When I called the airline, I noticed that my ticket had only one of my names. This was different from what was printed on my passport. That meant potential trouble with immigration, even possible denial of entry into another country.
I took a deep breath in, a slow breath out, and headed straight to the passport office. Thankfully, it was resolved, and I was issued a new passport.
Letting go of control doesn’t mean doing nothing. When something happens, it’s important to pause, silence the mind, focus on the breath, and assess the situation. Ask yourself: What can I do right now? Then take action—not with panic or frustration, but with calm determination. Too often, it’s our emotions that cloud our judgment and prevent us from seeing solutions.
One of my favorite teachings from Ajahn Brahm, a Buddhist monk I follow, is about flight delays. He reminds us that getting angry at the airline won’t make the plane arrive any sooner. Yelling at the attendant also won’t speed up the arrival. Instead, relax and enjoy the unexpected adventure.
Freedom comes from releasing the need to always be in control. But just as important is learning when to act—and doing so with calm and clarity. Wisdom lies in knowing the difference.
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Mama – Therese Deranger (1919–2016)
Mama, whose full name was Therese Deranger (née Adams), was born on May 8, 1919, in Old Fort, Alberta. She married young—at the age of 14—and became the matriarch of a large family of sixteen children. She raised us with discipline and strength. She could be as strict as a drill sergeant. Once, my brother Billy joked, “Mama, I hear you yelling. I was all the way from Mah’s Café.” The café was about a mile away in town. Still, my brothers adored and respected her.
My sisters, however, had a different experience. They often feared her sternness and interpreted it as unloving. In their youth, they experienced her as harsh and at times abusive. But we also know now that she carried a weight of trauma and hardship that shaped her parenting. In later years, many of us came to understand her better and saw her complexity with more compassion.
Mama was a devout Catholic. She took her faith seriously and raised us within the traditions of the Church. Baba, on the other hand, did not attend church. He would walk us to mass and wait to walk us home, but he stayed outside. He did not believe in the Church’s teachings. Still, he was deeply spiritual. He lived according to the rhythms of nature and the land.
Despite the contradictions in their beliefs, Mama and Baba gave us a foundation rooted in culture, resilience, and survival. She spoke Dene to us at home, ensuring we retained our language even in the face of pressures to assimilate.
Mama faced incredible hardship. She lost several of her children. One baby girl died at just two weeks old. My brother Donald drowned in Lake Athabasca. Alfred, another brother, became ill and was sent to the Fort Smith Hospital in the Northwest Territories. His body was never returned for burial, a sorrow my mother carried silently for the rest of her life.
She endured these losses and still carried on, with strength that seemed invincible. She faced cancer in her thirties, underwent eleven surgeries throughout her life, and still found the will to keep going. She told us once about a vision she had. While lying in a hospital bed, she saw a glowing man at the foot of her bed. She pleaded with him not to take her, saying her children still needed her. She believed it was God who gave her more time.
She had difficult years too. This was especially true in the 60s and 70s. During this time, alcohol played a part in many Indigenous households coping with historical trauma. But one day, she made a choice to stop drinking—and never looked back. Later, she gave up smoking just as firmly. When Mama set her mind to something, she could not be swayed.
Mama had her joys as well. She loved Dene drum songs and watching old movies. Her pilgrimage to Lac Sainte Anne was a highlight of her spiritual life. Reconnecting with other Dene from Saskatchewan during those gatherings brought her so much joy.
At one point in her life, she was briefly homeless. After unknowingly purchasing a used mattress infested with bed bugs, she was evicted from her rented home. It was a low point that revealed both her vulnerability and resilience. Later, when she was elderly, my brother Maxi moved in and lived with her, providing support and companionship.
Her beadwork was legendary. She made beautiful jackets and moccasins, each piece crafted with precision and pride. She taught us the importance of creating something with care. Her hands stitched more than beads—they stitched tradition, memory, and love.
Mama passed away in 2016, but her spirit remains in every bead, every story, every lesson she gave us. She was complicated. She was strong. She was ours.
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Life’s Value: Lessons from Loss and Love
We search to find meaning in someone’s life. We search for answers to their existence. At times, especially during moments of loss and grief, we look for meanings in their life to ease our pain. That is the human condition. We search because we think if we can attach value to their life, then their life meant something. But of course, their life always had meaning.
I have always held the view that the meaning to our life is not measured by possessions. Instead, it is not about money, cars, houses, or fame. It is found in the simple joy and happiness we spread to others. It is found in a meaningful chat, a hug, or a cup of coffee. Sharing a doughnut or ice cream is also a part. All of it is a collection of moments. How they made us FEEL. How they continue to make us feel when we are together and nothing else matters—not yesterday, tomorrow, nor any worries. We think of that person. This puts a smile in our hearts. We feel happy knowing that we are (or were) part of their life.
The value of someone’s life is in direct relation to what they added to our life. We are all connected, and death does not separate our connection. It is not the end. It is a continuation of our connection; it just looks different. A wise monk once explained it this way. When you see a cloud in the sky and it disappears, it really has not gone away. It has just changed. It has changed into rain that feeds the sunflower seed, which then grows into a fully grown sunflower. It just changes form. It changes to rain that feeds the tea plant. This rain changes into a lovely cup of tea. The tea nourishes and gives you a sense of calm and happiness as we sit to enjoy it. It changes, but it does not disappear. As the sun sets, it does not cease to exist. It is still there. In the morning, it will rise and give energy to the crops, plants, and humans. It exists in the smiles of people who are enjoying its rays. It just changes form. It is in the lovely flowers in your backyard. It is the trees that are giving you shade. Yes, of course, all life has meaning and is not tied to distinction. It is in our connection to one another that gives us value, and it doesn’t disappear when we pass on. The feelings we experience and will continue experiencing as we think about this person lives on.
ALL life has value. One last thought: I don’t like the phrase “at least they are no longer suffering.” Because as good as the lack of pain is, IT IS STILL SAD. When my brother passed, it broke my heart. AND true, he didn’t have pain, but it made me so very sad that he is gone. I see him all over the place, and that gives me happiness. I know he wants to see me happy. I see his passing not as a conclusion to his life but a continuation. It is a continuation to me, to my happiness. I am just being grateful that he was in my life as my brother. I see him in the music I listen to, which he used to enjoy, which makes me happy. I see him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. I see him in the skyscrapers in New York where he absolutely had the best time of his life. I see him and feel him in the hugs of my son, who he adored. All life has meaning. That meaning resides in the hearts of all the people he affected in some small way. Even a smile and memories bring a smile to our heart and that warm feel-good feeling. -
Sister Rose Desjarlais
Sister Rose – Resilient Spirit (1954–) This is a picture of her. It includes our late brother Roger and her late son James.
Rose Marina was born in 1954. She is more than my sister. She is my confidante and my companion. We share stories, joys, and the hardships that shaped us.
Rose is a deeply sensitive soul who still carries the weight of her experience at Holy Angels Indian Residential School. That trauma left scars, but also sharpened her resistance to being controlled. “Don’t tell me what to do—I’m not in the mission anymore,” she often says with a defiant edge. It’s not just a phrase—it’s her shield, her affirmation of agency. Through it all, she held onto our Denesuline language. That, in itself, is a quiet act of resistance. Our language is ceremony, memory, and identity—and she kept it alive.
When life overwhelms her, Rose retreats. She disconnects, doesn’t answer calls, and creates the solitude she needs to process. It never lasts too long, but it’s her way of healing. She’s especially sensitive to criticism, particularly from our younger nieces. We’ve shared many conversations mourning the loss of respect from the younger generation. When words are thrown carelessly, they cut deep, and she carries that pain in her heart.
Her life has been marked by immense grief—losing two sons, surviving breast cancer, and facing liver disease. Yet through it all, Rose remains a quiet force of love. She has never let pain harden her. She moves through the world with kindness and a readiness to help others. Her resilience is quiet but mighty.
Her humor still shines. During her cancer treatment, she wore a blonde wig. One of our brothers, a little drunk at the time, didn’t recognize her. “You look familiar,” he said, “I know who you are, but what’s your name?” Rose replied, “It’s me, your sister!” We all burst into laughter—his seriousness made it even funnier.
Rose and I once attended the University of Alberta together, both in the Faculty of Education. She later transferred to Saskatchewan to finish her final year. Her commitment to education and community has always been obvious.
She is a survivor in every sense—of colonial trauma, of illness, of deep personal loss. And yet, she laughs, she remembers, and she gives. Rose is a living embodiment of the Dene spirit: resilient, enduring, generous, and full of love.
Her presence is a gift. A sacred reminder of how we carry each other through the storm. A reminder of how we heal.
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Honoring Mama: The Guardian of Our Dene Culture
She came into this world on 8, of May, 1919, in Old Fort, Alberta, the eldest of eleven children. With two sisters and eight brothers, she quickly learned the weight and responsibility of caring for others. At just 15, she entered into marriage with Isadore Deranger in 1933 in Fond du Lac. Their union began a life journey marked by both hardship and immense determination.. She became a widow in 1992, after nearly six decades of shared life.
Mama was born into a time when modern comforts were luxuries beyond reach. There was no electricity, no plumbing, no telephones or television. Her world was one of survival and strength. She made do with what was at hand. She always did it knowing it had to be endured.
She was raised in the traditional Dene way. This was in the lands of northern Saskatchewan and Alberta, along the shores of Lake Athabasca. Those lands shaped her. That way of life became the foundation of who she was—and in turn, who we are. Her resilience was not just inherited, it was lived.
Mama’s life was nothing short of extraordinary. She journeyed from bush life to cities. She traveled by dogsled and later flew in jet planes. She used the moccasin telegraph and eventually watched her grandchildren text on smartphones. Few people live to witness such sweeping change, and even fewer adapt with the dignity and curiosity she carried.
Though she longed to attend school, her father refused. In hindsight, that decision protected her from the trauma of Indian Residential Schools. As we now know, these institutions did more than disrupt families—they attempted to erase culture, identity, and language. While the residential school system succeeded in taking much from our people, it did not take our language—not from Mama. She continued to speak it to us,, proudly, and consistently. By doing this, she quietly became a guardian of our Dene tongue. She passed it on to us so that we would remember who we are.
Still, she never stopped valuing learning. Later in life, she enrolled in adult education classes. I remember the pride in her voice when she can showed me what she wrote., her children’s names. Her eyes sparkled. Her smile was sweet. It was one of the happiest moments I ever saw in her.
She was a bride at fifteen, married through traditional custom to a man much older. It was not an easy path. Her life as a wife and mother began early. By the time she was in her forties, she had given birth to nineteen children. She endured long, isolating winters in first in a tent, then a log house built by my dad. Often alone while my father was away trapping and hunting. She birthed most of her children without doctors. She walked miles in snow to reach midwives. She cared for infants with nothing more than her own hands and courage.
There were no luxuries. No nurses. No modern baby products. Yet somehow, she made it all work—with strength, with endurance, and with love. As her children grew, they became her helpers. Together, they made it through.
Mama knew loss intimately. One of her babies passed away in the cold, stormy night in a fragile tent. Later, she would bury five more of her children, including my brother Billy in December 2012. That Christmas was especially painful. No parent should have to bury a child—and yet, she carried that grief with a quiet, unbreakable spirit.
She faced cancer in her thirties, underwent eleven surgeries over the years, and still kept going. I remember as a child, praying with my siblings in her empty bedroom while she lay in the hospital. She later told us about a vision she had of a glowing man at the foot of her bed. She pleaded with him not to take her—she had children who still needed her. And she came back to us. She believed it was God’s will, not for herself, but for her children.
Mama was human, too. There were difficult years in the 60s and 70s—times clouded by alcohol, like so many others of that era. But one day, she simply chose to stop. And she never looked back. She later gave up smoking just as decisively. When she set her mind to something, nothing would stop her. Her will was unwavering.
There was so much more to Mama than the hardships she faced. She loved life. She loved to travel, to laugh, to visit with her grandchildren and great-grandchildren—now numbering over a hundred. She found happiness in being busy, in creating beauty with her hands. Her bead work was legendary—meticulous, traditional, and utterly her. Her jackets were admired throughout the region. She taught us all to work with care and take pride in what we create.
She loved the annual Catholic pilgrimage to Lac St. Anne. It was a sacred time for her—a reunion of hearts and a celebration of faith. She brought back holy water, pendants, and blessings to share with others. Giving brought her joy.
Mama was also the heart of the home. Her bannock, her fresh-baked bread, her Christmas bread pudding—these were more than meals. They were love made tangible. We shared laughter over homemade taffy, and warm summer days around the wood stove moved outdoors. On reflection I believed mama had OCD. She had us cleaning often. If she felt it was not done correctly, we would have to redo the cleaning. This made us all good cleaners, even my brothers.
She gave me so much—resilience, love, courage. When I clean to calm myself, I know it’s her spirit working through me. And I never leave dirty dishes overnight in the sink. When I keep going, even when things feel too heavy, I know she’s with me.
A memory from Margo, my sister in law reminds me of Mama’s gentle humor. On a dusty drive to Lac St. Anne, the ladies in the back of the car were covered in dust from the gravel road. They burst out laughing over a misheard place name—”Greengrass” instead of “Grassland.” Their joy was infectious.
Mama was strong. She was proud. She was deeply religious. life wasn’t easy, but it was full. Her legacy isn’t just in her children or her beadwork. It’s in the way she lived. It’s in the strength she gave us. It’s in the language she protected and the love that still surrounds us.
I honor her memory. I admired her. I miss her. And I am forever grateful that she was mine.
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Discovering Your Ikigai: A Journey to Purpose
Finding purpose in life
Human beings are inherently social; a sense of belonging is a fundamental psychological need. Whether through relationships, family, or professional environments, connection to others shapes our identity and well-being. In Japanese culture, the concept of ikigai—meaning “reason for being”—describes the intersection of purpose, passion, and fulfillment.
I attended Holy Angels Indian Residential School, located in a small hamlet in Alberta, for seven years. I know that cultural genocide Is real. The cultural genocide experienced by Indigenous peoples in Indian residential schools aimed to decimate the spirit. It also intended to eradicate their culture. purpose of Indian residential schools was to decimate Indigenous culture and identity. They almost succeeded.
Although I did not personally experience sexual or emotional abuse.,unfortunately , some of my siblings and former classmates who attended the same institution did. I am seated in the front with my brothers who experienced untold trauma.
Years later, I became a university student studying Culture and Arts at the University of Warsaw. During this time, I had the opportunity to visit significant historical sites. These included churches and former concentration camps. During a visit to Auschwitz, I had a powerful emotional response. I was standing in the area where Holocaust victims were gassed in the showers. I left the group, sat outside, and cried—a moment that made a lasting impact on me. How can humans be so cruel. The climate of the day with President Trump is divisive and has echos of Nazi Germany. We must not allow the hatred to take hold, history has demonstrated how far it will go
. Indeed, the extermination policies, like those implemented during the Holocaust, had profound effects. They were devastating for individuals and communities. The Nazi regime systematically murdered millions. This included Jews, Romania people, and disabled individuals. Others deemed undesirable also suffered. These actions led to immense suffering and loss. The survivors of these atrocities often faced long-term psychological trauma and struggled to rebuild their lives 1. But it also gave them a purpose for living. And to never allow people to forget this history.
My time in the Indian residential school system was significant. I also observed the remnants of genocide in Europe. These experiences shaped my understanding of trauma and human behavior. They sparked a lifelong commitment to addressing the long-term effects of such suffering.
I committed to serving for several years on the board of the Nechi Institute: Centre of Indigenous Learning. During my tenure, I held the roles of Vice-Chair and eventually Chairperson. In 2021, I resigned from that role.
Afterward, I founded a charitable Foundation Known as Seventh Generation Indigenous Foundation and Training ( GIFT) http://www.seventhgift.ca It focuses on addressing addiction and trauma in First Nations communities by including land base cultural teachings.
In conclusion, It is Through personal experiences, I discovered my ikigai. If you pay attention, you’ll find yours through your own experiences. My purpose is to support those healing from trauma and addiction. I host Empathetic Witness podcast to continue the conversation.
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My guiding principle—my ikigai, as it’s known in Japanese—is simple: to help others heal.
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Similarly, the cultural genocide experienced by Indigenous peoples in Indian residential schools aimed to decimate t
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The LIGHTS WENT OUT IN OTTAWA,ONTARIO
April 30th,2025 The lights WENT OUT in OTTAWA,ONTARIO
The power was restored for 5 minutes in the morning. It then went off again for hours until 8:30 PM. This experience made me realize how much I take It for granted.
Nevertheless, without power, I rediscovered the joy in reading a book the old-fashioned way. I did this without any electronic devices. I had to stop reading when it got dark. I also took the time to move furniture in the bedroom earlier in the afternoon.
During an increasingly noisy world, silence has become a rare and precious commodity, that we have forgotten.
But when the electricity goes off, it is silent. There is no constant hum of appliances and technology. The barrage of notifications is absent. They often drown out the subtler sounds of existence.
Yet, yesterday, the absence of electricity brought with it an unexpected gift: silence. It was as though the world paused, allowing room for reflection, for breaths to deepen, and for meditation.
Silence is not merely the absence of sound; it is a canvas on which clarity can be painted. It fosters mindfulness, cultivates inner peace, and reconnects us to the rhythms of nature and ourselves. The lack of noise, even for a short while, can heighten our appreciation for the nuances of life. We notice the whisper of the wind and enjoy the distant chirping of birds. These moments of calm serve as a counterbalance to the hectic pace of modernity. They remind us that with the clamor, serenity still exists. After a moment, I welcomed it.
Indeed, I am grateful for the modern conveniences. These include flushing the toilet, cooking, and boiling water. I also appreciate texting, phoning, and even going on social media.
These everyday conveniences often go unnoticed. Nevertheless, they play such an important role in our life. Like our breath, we can’t live without it. that said, electricity affects many parts of our daily routines. It is vital from the moment we wake up to the time we go to bed. It enables us to stay connected, and informed. Without it, we are reminded of its crucial role in modern life. At the same time, it takes us away from a part of life that is more meaningful. That is to be aware.
I grew up without electricity and indoor plumbing, April 30th reminded me of that time, and how wonderful it was. We were happy children. We were never bored. We read books and comics. But, we mostly explored the hills. We walked to the Wiley ‘point lake to swim in lake Athabasca. It brought back memories of simpler times. In those times, we found joy in the little things. We appreciated the beauty of life with each other.
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Happiness is yours to grab
What Brings Me Happiness
I come from a small northern helmet, Fort Chippewa, Alberta. It is the little things that bring me happiness. I am a proud Denesuline (Dene)
Happiness to me is when I feel the warmth of these little moments. They fill me with joy. It sparks a sensation akin to tiny butterflies fluttering in my belly. This delicate feeling spreads upward to my heart. It radiates outward through my eyes and lips to form a smile. This smile is a reflection of contentment. It mirrors the simplicity of those cherished memories. The happiness from small blessings is profound. It is rooted in a sense of gratitude and connection. This shapes my outlook on life. The foundation of which is I am enough.
As the youngest female in a household of ten brothers, my basic needs for lodging, food, and clothing were met. Although we were not wealthy, we did not live in poverty.
Our house was neither the largest nor the best in the community. However, it was clean. Our mother taught my sisters how to clean thoroughly.
I did not have the best clothing. However, I have memories of receiving new summer clothes for the July 1st parade in our community.
My older sister Dora bought clothing for all of us. This included outfits for Sunday Mass. She also bought outfits for holidays like Christmas, Easter, and July 1st. She worked as a cook at the Indian residential school. Dora earned money to supplement our father’s income as a hunter and trapper. My older brother Peter worked at Uranium City at the El dorado mine. He also contributed to the family’s finances.
The Bennett Dam was built in British Columbia after 1970. It drastically reduced water levels in Lake Athabasca. This reduction devastated the trapping industry overnight.
As an adult, I appreciate simple pleasures like making matcha tea with a whisk. When the tea forms a smile-like shape on top, it creates an enjoyable moment. It also be sitting outside on the deck. I drink my tea and listen to my favorite music with the trees and plants around me.
In conclusion, happiness blossoms from gratitude and acceptance. By viewing negative events through a positive lens, I find the silver lining and emerge feeling grateful and joyful.
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From the Shores of the Ottawa River 
