My Creative Goals for 2018

Ah 2017. Where to begin? 

2017 was another difficult year for the world. We continued to see the impacts of climate change. We continued to see and experience overt and systemic colonization and racism in attitudes, media, policy and practice. We continued to see people in our communities and across the world suffer. Here on Turtle Island, we continued to hear governments talk about reconciliation with Indigenous Peoples without seeming to be sincere about it. (Or not talk about it at all and enact laws that endanger those standing up for land and water). In so many ways it was a real challenge to read the news this year. To hear of men and women losing their lives simply by walking down the street or for standing up against hatred. It was heart-wrenching and infuriating and it made you want to do something to help. To take action. To ease suffering. To make things better. 

And strangely enough, amidst all of these dark and difficult things that we probably all carried the weight of in different ways, people actually did all of these things. Eased. Took action. Made things better. 

More than once throughout the year there were these moments of utter joy and complete happiness. Of people coming together. And they weren’t just flashes of light in the dark. They were actual, amazing awesome happenings, creations and movements that shone through all of this icky, oily, wretchedness. 

People wrote stunning, powerful pieces filled with beautiful, honest words that countered some of the vitriol that’s been appearing all over the internet. Poems and stories and articles. People stood up for one another and for the earth. In my community people continued to practice our ceremonies and learn our languages and teach others and just be amazing. A group of grade 7 students at a local elementary school learned how to say the long version of Ganohonyohk, our Thanksgiving Address, a powerful land acknowledgement and ceremony for bringing our minds together. People made art and movies and movements towards sustainability. People continued to learn more about the universe we are a part of by being curious and by practicing science. People continued to laugh and be happy and celebrate being Ogwehoweh. People continued to laugh and be happy, thoughtful and curious, period. 

For me, all of this activity was incredible and inspiring and it quite honestly kept me going at times. It kept me committed to learning the language and sharing what I’ve learned with my children. It kept me committed to learning and thinking about our rights and responsibilities. It kept me committed to trying to find cool and fun ways to pass that knowledge onto our daughters. It kept me committed to trying to help however I can, which this year was a real struggle. There were so many times when I felt like I wasn’t doing enough or being helpful enough. So many times when I looked out at the world and saw all of these painful happenings and wanted to be able to do more. (Probably, what I actually wanted to do was magic. Like literally wave a wand and make all of it better. Probably, what I still want to do is magic. But alas). 

And of course, because I’ve learned the hard way how important it is to take care of your self and take responsibility for your own healing, I want to do things that are true to myself and the kind of work that nourishes my spirit (learning and creating). Ultimately, I think this is why I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to reflect on the past year, and understand some ways that I can learn and create and still be helpful. To understand where/how can I help build a more tolerant and compassionate community, or how my family and I can practice a more sustainable way of living and really understand the changes we need to make. Because on a personal/family level, we are more than ready to make changes and live more sustainably. I am so ready to live in a way that reduces my footprint, that lessens the carbon emissions I’m responsible for, that supports clean energy industries, to spend my money with individuals or companies who share these values, to support local creators. A problem I think I have, is that I don’t know what all of those things are. I have more learning to do. More practicing. And so in 2018, I’ll be making a greater commitment to getting that learning done and making a few changes. But before I get into 2018, here’s a little bit of a recap of some of the very good, completely awesome, worthy of eternal gratitude things that happened this year.  

Good Things That Happened This Year & Goals I Reached

I have to say, when it comes to the good things that happened for me and my family in 2017, there really were so many. I didn’t achieve everything I had set out to do in my 2017 goals, but nonetheless I have so much to be grateful for.

Here are some of the highlights:

• My husband and I celebrated our two-year anniversary this past September. 
• Our daughters turned three and one
• We spend a week in the Adirondack Mountains and it was AMAZING
• I spent more time in the forest outside our home (Carolinian Forest and so lovely)
• I made a deeper commitment to my language learning and our company published our first Cayuga language book
• I illustrated my first book (the Cayuga language book)
• I read 34 books (Of a goal of 25 & I almost had 35 but just couldn't do it! FYI: My favourite was the Inheritance Trilogy)
• I completed four more courses for my doctorate
• I started writing my dissertation
• I made a lot of art and learned to work with new materials like gouache and masking fluid
• I practiced drawing and painting every week
• My husband and I co-presented about our language learning effort at two conferences
• I organized an Indigenous Research Symposium that had some amazing speakers
• I presented at a local PD Day which was really amazing and I’m so grateful for
• I published three books
• And I wrote. I wrote three short stories, one essay, and three poems. I shared one of the stories on my site but I think I will include all of these in a little collection at some point in the future

And there we have it! Wow. I have to say, writing this list honestly made me so happy—I can see why it’s a good practice to go back and look at the positive things that happened.  

That said, even though it was a wonderful year in many ways it was also challenging for me in that I didn’t produce as much writing as I normally do. In a way this isn’t surprising because I was working on my dissertation, and I knew going into 2017 that my research was going to take up a lot of my time and energy. But creative writing is a big part of how I learn about the world and how I take care of myself, and so I need to make sure that I make it more of a priority in 2018. 

It was also a different kind of year because halfway through it I made a commitment to become a better speaker of the Cayuga language—another effort that will continue into 2018. I started this more serious learning work in September and though it was disrupted by the symposium planning in November, I can still share that I learned a lot of language in the last four months and am able to use a lot more of it at home as a result. This effort will continue into 2018 and once my dissertation is out of the way, I’ll be able to focus on it much more. And we (my husband and I) have a lot of plans for things we can do to learn over the next year. So this is something I’m very excited about! 

One of the paintings I made this year. This was me playing with masking fluid. 

Looking ahead to 2018

Overall then, my goals for 2018 are to continue to do a lot of what made the last few years so special. To read a lot. To write a lot. To make art. To learn more language. To read more legends and do more research. To live more sustainably. To be a healthy creative person who eats well, sleeps well and exercises often. To spend more time with people I love and respect. And to share the positive energy these activities generate with the world. I also want to be more strategic in the kind of activism that I engage in and to involve myself more and support education initiatives that can lay the groundwork for relationships and networks that are sustainable, and respectful, and transformative.

   I also have some more specific goals, which are:

1. To write 500 creative words a day.
2. To write 500 non-fiction/academic words a day
3. To finish and defend my dissertation work.
4. To publish 2 books.
5. To read 25 books.
6. To record an audio book of Spirit & Intent.
7. To make a short album of piano music.
8. To continue to learn more about art and animation.
9. To increase my proficiency in the Cayuga language.
10. To write 1 novel, 1 novella, a series of poems, and 2 essays.
11. To submit a piece of work to First Nations Art 2018. 
12. To bead something.
13. To establish some way of supporting local writers. 
14. To work on my inking, shading and detailing.
15. To meditate at least four times a week.  

All in all, I am very grateful for all of the learning that happened this year. At my work, through my schooling, and through my own creative pursuits. It was just a year ago that I realized I had a dream of being an illustrator and had a mild panic attack because my formal education is in a completely different field than art. I am sometimes super sad this is the case, because I’ve loved watching the work and sense of community that comes out of places like the Indigenous Visual Arts Program at OCADU. But I also realize, that it’s okay—I’m on my path, and I’m going to keep on this path and just do my best to learn and share. And as Leanne Simpson writes, “If we are doing our work to the best of our abilities, doorways and opportunities will open to us that previously did not exist.” (Simpson, 2011). So here’s to more learning and creating and spreading of love, respect and compassion in 2018. 

Nya:weh universe. And nya:weh everyone who has been on this journey with me so far, both here on my blog or out in our community. Thank you for all that you do. I wish you a wonderful 2018!

Happy creating. Keep shining. 

S. 

A Gift of Language

Sge:no Swagwe:goh! Hi everyone! 

I've been holding onto this very exciting news for the last few weeks and now that it is September, I am super excited to share that starting tomorrow, I will be taking a year off to do more intensive language learning! 

Those of you who have been following the blog may know that for the past year or so, my husband and I have been making a concentrated effort to speak more of the Cayuga language in our home. The results of this effort have been really inspiring. The majority of our baby’s new words are all in Cayuga and our three-year old daughter also is able to speak and understand a lot of the language as well. This made us realize that things would moving along faster and even more language would be spoken in our home if I were to become a more proficient speaker. And so that is what we are going to do: take a year and focus on increasing my speaking proficiency.  

The core of the approach that we are using to learn is called the Master/Apprentice method. This approach was designed for people who have access to a speaker of an Indigenous language but not necessarily a classroom. One of the ideas that we have really taken to heart with this method is the notion that you have to “create your own language situation” (Hinton, 2002). 

A few months back, we went to an Indigenous language symposium in Thunder Bay which I made a video blog about here. The experience was really cathartic because I met many of my old friends and acquaintances from when I worked with the Chiefs of Ontario. It was also a reminder that while there are so many issues we need to be advancing as Indigenous Peoples (and we certainly need everyone, everywhere doing all of the work), the work that I’ve personally gravitated to is language, education, art and storytelling. I want to make a concerted effort now to acquire more language and to do this successfully—I have to give more time to it. 

By and large, the research shows that the most successful language learning happens in an immersion environment. And while we can create an immersion environment in our home, the depth of our conversations has been limited by the amount of things that I can say. We realized we needed to be able to get through the rules of the language more quickly. That I needed to memorize the prefixes, suffixes, negations and other elements of the language that elude me in the time we currently devote to Master/Apprentice.

Once problem I’ve encountered in trying to make a greater commitment to language is that this September, I’m starting the final year of my doctorate degree. I’m therefore not in a position to attend an all-day adult immersion program as I still need to spend a portion of my day doing work on my dissertation. And in both cases, I need to do what Cal Newport refers to as “deep work”. “Deep work is the ability to focus without distraction on a cognitively demanding task. It’s a skill that allows you to quickly master complicated information and produces better results in less time. You work as hard as your brain is capable for an extended amount of time without any distractions.” (Newport, 2012)

Up to now, we have done the majority of our language learning at home with our girls. This is something we plan to continue, but we’re now going to be switch gears because it’s incredibly difficult to do distraction-free work at home. And I am very ready to do deep work where it concerns language—especially since I came back from Thunder Bay. When I was there, it became super clear to me that I need to make a stronger commitment and blend a few approaches together to make a class that was unique to our needs. And so, I decided to take a big leap. 

I saved up the money to rent our class and signed a one-year lease for a room that has three big whiteboards and is just down the hall from one of the most successful language learning programs in our community. Over the next year, I'll spend my afternoons (I’ve blocked out 12-4, Monday to Friday) to do deep work to become more familiar with the rules of Cayuga in an immersion/distraction free environment. Some of this time I will spend with my husband and some of it I will spend working on my own. Most importantly, there will be dedicated time in my day for my learning.

The first day we got our classroom. 

Kehte hanging up paradigm charts. 

Adding some colour & posters. 

Our bookcases. We got a lovely paradigm game from the local immersion school. 

After scrubbing our white boards clean, this was the first thing we wrote on them!

Kehte and I are both very excited about the year ahead, and I’m very grateful for the support I’ve gotten from my work and my school. I’m also somewhat nervous. But all in all, it’s a good nervous and because we’ve already landed on a combination of ways to use audio resources, transcribing, drills, immersion conversation, and other strategies to shape our effort, I feel really positive about our movement forward. 

I’m also happy and grateful because as part of his work, my husband created a program framework and adapted the first year of the successful language program that I mentioned for Cayuga, so we have a strong year of proven curriculum to draw from. It’s super exciting. Anyways. we will share more about our process as our year progresses, but I just wanted to show a few snapshots of our new classroom! Isn’t it gorgeous? Hooray for language learning and wish us luck :).

Also, today is my birthday! So it seems like an extra special day to celebrate & to give myself a gift of time to try and be a better speaker :). 

S. 

A Letter

Dear Ione and Vivian,

I am writing this letter for you, because I think it is important that you understand some of the things that I have learned in my life that have to do with being an Indigenous woman living on Turtle Island and of belonging to the league of nations known as the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. 

A lot of what I am going to share with you is reflective of things I have learned and thought about over the last fifteen years. Things I am still thinking about. There are stories about your family members here as well, about your grandfather and your uncle. About your grandmother and your aunties. Your family on your father’s side has many stories to tell as well, but I will let him tell you what those are. 

I want to start by telling you that there is a lot of history in our community and that not all of it will be easy to read or hear about. But I did not know these histories growing up and I had to learn them in a sometimes hard and difficult manner over many, many years. I do not want the same thing for you—not when there is something I could do about it. A way I could empower you with knowledge by informing you sooner, though even by telling you—I cannot promise you will not grapple with similar issues in your lifetime. 

I have lived on Onondaga Road in the community of Six Nations of the Grand River for most of my life. Our family home was just around the corner from where your father grew up. Onondaga Road is situated within the heart of the Carolinian Forest, in a large stretch of green that is still visible from space. This is where I grew up; surrounded by trees and brush and quiet. Many of my memories of growing up here are happy ones, although there are unhappy ones too, as there are in life. 

At the time I am writing this, there are things unfolding in the world where people who believe their race is superior to all others are becoming very loud and aggressive. People who believe this kind of nonsense (and it is nonsense) have always been around and though there have been times in the last several decades where it seemed like people were starting to accept that other races were entitled to equal treatment, this kind of thinking has still been there, lurking beneath the surface. 

I think these kinds of beliefs are narrow-minded and dangerous. And while you can’t change people’s minds with the wave of a wand, you can create opportunities for learning and that is why I work in the area of education—to try and create opportunities for people to learn and to create opportunities for people who love to learn. And there are many wonderful things to learn about in this world, make no mistake. There is knowledge of language, ceremony, land, place, people, art, storytelling, music, dance, science, archaeology, cosmology, astrophysics, theoretical physics and so, so much more. I offer you this because while there are some things in the world that are out of our control, we do have autonomy for ourselves. We can take critical actions and transform our own lives, even when there are systems of oppression around us. And though this makes it harder, it is a worthwhile and valuable struggle. 

Now. Despite there being so many opportunities for learning, I am writing this letter because I am not confident that you will learn this information unless I share it with you myself, in my own way. That is my right as a parent and my responsibility as your mother. To love you. To accept you. To prepare you. To encourage you. To help you learn about difficult things in a safe way. To help you discover the awesomeness that is life and that is being Ogwehoweh. 

And while you will probably read a lot of stories and watch documentaries about the reclamation—stories of why it happened, and the history leading up to it—unless I write this letter none of them will be ours, your father’s and mine. 

Regarding the Reclamation

Ten years ago, my father was the elected Chief of Six Nations. I still remember when he told me he was going to run. After we got off the phone I cried, something I have never really never talked about until now. I cried because I think I knew even then, that it was a difficult and thankless job to undertake. And it was. 

All in all, your grandfather did a very good job with the tools that he had. He’d had practice being a good leader already. He was the head coach of the first ever Indigenous team to win a national championship in Jr. A. Lacrosse, a group of players which included your uncle, and that he had coached for years. Even though I didn’t play, lacrosse taught me a lot. I attended those games for the majority of my childhood and into my teenage years. It was an exhilarating time, a thrilling journey to a championship that had been just within our reach for so many years. As the team progressed, the modest crowd at the start of the season grew bigger and bigger until they wound up having to build new stands at the end of the arena where the zamboni came in, and even then it wasn’t enough to fit everyone. 

It was also during this time that I was first exposed to overt racism, although I didn’t fully understand it. But even though I didn’t understand it, I knew it was an ugly thing. Despite this ugliness and the skewed refereeing that often occurs in the sport, the team competed well and won. This win felt enormous, like a dam breaking and letting all the water, hope, and happiness gush out with it. Many more championships followed in its wake. I found it—and maybe still find it—ironic that when we returned from British Columbia in 1993, there was a sign that said “Dave General for Chief”, and in less than 15 years, he would actually have this experience and it would be both a positive and negative one, full of ups and down.

There were good moments and there were terrible moments, and all in all, it was a very difficult time and environment to be learning things in. When it comes to matters of community and governance, people need to be able to reflect and critique, and reflecting and critiquing doesn't always happen in a wholly peaceful manner. People were angry with him and the elected council, and they took their anger out in many different ways. I think people who take on these kinds of leadership roles, anticipate this. For their families though, it is somewhat different and suffice it to say, all of these things together made me feel sad and isolated and alone. I did not fully understand the anger people felt towards him, and even now that I understand the history of governance at Six Nations better, I remember this time and want to treat people with understanding, respect, and kindness. My point is, despite all of this hurtful history, I believe in our people. In our capacity for consensus-building, in our need to stand up for ourselves, in our ways of living and our right to self-determination. And I want you to have the tools and know the information that will help you participate in this because I want you to have better tools of understanding (sooner) than I did.

Before I tell you what I learned about the matter of governance, I want to remind you that I love my father very much. I am proud of him and all of his accomplishments. His interest in hunting, lacrosse, snow snake, music and art have influenced me in the best possible ways. I am thankful that he’s someone who is willing to have challenging conversations and for being someone who loves ideas and learning. I am especially thankful to him for valuing his children as equals, including his daughters. Even as I am writing this letter, he is encouraging me to explore and share my story, my learning and my ideas with you. He remains open to the things that I have to say and this too, makes me proud. This also, at a time when he has just lost his mother, your great-grandmother, who I know was one of his greatest supporters and who I know he loved very, very much. 

I tell you this because loving someone who had been the target of so much negativity and support from our own community is difficult. But even though a few people were unkind towards him at times—I still love our community. And so does he. In this way, though we may not always share the same views, your grandfather has been a role model for me, and in many ways his experience with elected leadership has grown my compassion immensely. And I am so grateful for this compassion. It is the thing that helps remind me that issues in our community are not always clear-cut. It has taught me to let go of things. And it has helped me to see that there is complexity and nuance here and there always has been.

Our History 

Because I didn’t learn about the history of our people in school—a problem that I hope will not exist for you—I had to learn about it from other places. Mostly by reading and listening. Or sometimes, I mentioned—when these histories and ideas collided with our everyday life. 

My journey to learn led me to a lot of wonderful, knowledgeable people who have books and writings of their own that I hope you will read. For me, this started in university, where I was fortunate enough that people before me had created a space for something called Indigenous Studies. It was here I was able to gather some foundational understanding of the true history between Indigenous Peoples and Canada that had been completely neglected by the provincial curriculum. But probably the most of my learning happened through the time I spent working with an organization called the Chiefs of Ontario. Because of the work I was doing, I travelled to meetings all over Turtle Island. I consistently heard elders remind us of the importance of language, Creation stories, natural law, and responsibility. And little by little, their words began to sink in. 

Regarding the Indian Act

The situation at Caledonia has a number of layers for me. I went to school in Caledonia (my school was closed because of asbestos contamination when I was 8, which is another story altogether) and worked there for many years at a local coffee shop. As a result of this, I have a respect and fondness for many of the people there. But what I learned while going to school in Caledonia was not the full story of Canada’s relationship with our people. Not even close. And so many of my friends that I grew up with were as unprepared as I was for what was really happening when the events at Kanonhstaton came to be. Especially because these events were compounded by federal and provincial policies and processes that few people knew about, some which stretched back into the previous century.

The Indian Act is one of the many tools of oppression that the Canadian government has used against our people, to control us and to control our lands. Among the ideas that shaped or enabled the Indian Act, is the Doctrine of Discovery, which emboldened settler nations to feel they could lay exclusive claim to land that was ‘terra nullius’ or unoccupied and that they 'discovered'. Because we were here and could not be 'discovered', this concept was amended to include the idea that non-Christians did not count as real people and in this way, settlers from these nations used the Doctrine of Discovery to justify their efforts to take hold of our lands.  

I will pick this thread back up again in a moment, but before I go any further, I want to pause to introduce another concept. I am introducing it slightly out of order because it is important. Pay attention.  

Our people are a nation. We made treaty with Creation before we came here—a promise to honour this world and to be grateful for the ways it helps us to survive and thrive. We are among the Indigenous Peoples of Turtle Island. And as Indigenous Peoples of Turtle Island, we have inherent rights. These are rights that cannot be taken away by anyone. When non-Indigenous peoples came here, we made treaty with them. We agreed that they could share space here, because by all accounts, the place where they had come from was not a good one. There was starvation, disease and overcrowding (Venne, 2007). At the time that non-Indigenous people arrived—the land here was pristine and the water was drinkable. It is in our teachings that we should never take this for granted—that we should always be grateful for land and water. Now of course, a mere five hundred years later, the situation with water is much changed. We are concerned about that and with good reason. Water is more scarce than it was and it has been affected by various forms of pollution and human expansion. There is much work to do just in this one area. For more on this, I would encourage you to read Maude Barlow’s series of books, the most recent of which is called Boiling Point and provides information and perspective on water and the steps we need to take to protect it. I would also encourage you to learn from the people who have been working hard over the years to maintain the relationship that we have with water, and to honour it for the life-sustainer that it is.

Moving back to the matter of treaties, it is important for you to know that our ancestors also made Treaty with other nations, including the British Crown (Venne, 1997). It is also important that you know that treaty-making was not a new concept that we learned from non-Indigenous people and that we made treaties with other Indigenous nations as well (Venne, 2011). It is my intent that you will come to know those too, and while I do not know them all—your father and I will make every effort to find ways to make sure you know what we didn’t. And finally, it is important that you understand that “To enter into a treaty, a party must be a nation” and that “a colonizer is not a nation” (Venne, 2011). But we are. And we belong to a league of nations that has been dealing with conflict and colonization for a very long time. 

Six Miles Deep

Now back to Six Nations. There is a plaque by the Grand River that describes how it is that we came to be the Six Nations of the Grand River territory. About how we allied with the British during the American Revolution and faced persecution in the years that followed the establishment of the United States government. Many people relocated to the Grand River from our homelands in upper state New York as a result. This process occurred via the support of a proclamation that has come to be referred to as the Haldimand Deed of 1784 and which granted six miles on either side of the Grand River from the mouth to the source to the “Mohawk Nation and such others of the Six Nations Indians”. Over the last 233 years, this area of land has slowly been diminished to the size of our community as is known today and is captured in a well-known and circulated map. Some of our scholars have written about this subject—important books that I hope others will read. I have included some of those in my reading list at the end of this letter.

When the reclamation began, Six Nations had already been taking action for many years to recover the land that had been lost, address the mismanagement of Six Nations funds by the federal government and be compensated for it. A quick look at the map will tell you that much of the six miles on either side of the Grand River are filled with major towns and cities. This area was also the target of the province of Ontario’s, Places to Grow Act. One of the main criticisms of this policy was that it did not take into consideration the land and treaty rights of Indigenous Peoples. Which is true. It didn’t. But a lot of times, people do not like to be concerned with something that they think is ancient history and it can be difficult for people to see things another way when they feel it threatens their life and well-being. The thing about land though, is that our relationship to it is not ancient history. It is alive. It is happening now and it is not something that we should put aside or behind us. Like the language—the land belongs to our children. To the future. 

The mechanisms for resolving land matters between Indigenous Peoples and the state of Canada are inefficient. They are inefficient because they are colonial constructs. Two of these constructs that were in operation at the time the reclamation began were the Specific Claims Policy and the Comprehensive Claims Policy. I am not a lawyer, but here is something that I have learned that is important. Canada’s land claims policies are extinguishment policies, meaning that Indigenous Peoples must extinguish their interest in lands in exchange for a new agreement over a specific portion of our territory. These policies have been reviewed and revised over the years, even as recently as the last five years and they are still not very good, operating as they do, from this principle. 

Recall what I have told you about our responsibility to land and natural law. We cannot and should not extinguish our responsibilities to land. 

Learning and More Learning

Many of the people I listened to and learned from across Turtle Island felt it was critical that Indigenous Peoples continue to position themselves as nations who had made treaties with other nations whose people then settled and formed colonies on Turtle Island. And that because there is no true will to honour the treaties, there is a need for an international mechanism to oversee their implementation. I tend to agree with this also. I have always felt it is important that we have people everywhere, at every level, doing many different kinds of work. This is an example of a kind of work that I think is much needed. It is my understanding that this work has been underway at the United Nations for several years, although I do not know where it currently sits, and after writing this, I am making a note to find out.

And this is where we come to the difference between the Confederacy Council and the Elected Council. The Confederacy Council is the governance system that was given to us by the Creator. It came to us from the Peacemaker, who went among the Onondaga, Oneida, Seneca, Cayuga and Mohawk nations with other like-minded thinkers and determined a way that our nations could work together. It is our system. Our way. It is made up of both men and women, it is meant to be inclusive and it is my opinion that this form of governance could be even more robust and responsive to modern day concerns if it were not consistently in survival mode and perhaps, if we were able to be more compassionate and forgiving. Indeed, with the number of intelligent, well-informed, and thoughtful people engaged in a process of decolonization and healing, we stand in a very good position to mend some of our governance issues and move forward; although, I recognize that this would take a lot of work and discussion. 

By contrast, the Elected Council was put in place in 1924 by the federal government. In short—it is a colonial construct. And while I so appreciate all of the people who have served our community in this capacity—including your grandfather—I do not see any way of getting around that. Further, as someone who continues to grapple with my own efforts to decolonize, I offer this information with no judgement. I am grateful for all of the people who labour on behalf of our community in these various capacities, and I have seen first hand the success that the elected council has had in organizing with other communities and organizations to prevent further incursions on our rights, as has almost happened many times over on issues like HST and education. But the history of this construct remains what it is.

I have also seen the success the Confederacy Council has had in advocating on issues and keeping our traditions healthy and in tact. One example, is the Great Law readings that have been organized these past few years. Another, is the work of Cayuga Chief Deskaheh Levi General. Throughout the early 1920s, Duncan Campbell Scott, the Superintendent of the Department of Indian Affairs, was angry that Deskaheh had journeyed to Geneva, Switzerland to present to the League of Nations (the precursor to the United Nations) about incursions on Indigenous sovereignty and mobility. By many accounts, Duncan Campbell Scott was extremely committed to the project of colonization and assimilation and open about the fact that he viewed Indigenous Peoples as inferior. He was also one of the proponents of the residential school system. I have little doubt that you will have learned about residential schools throughout your education. It is an atrocious and inexcusable policy initiative that believe it or not, some people still try to defend.

When I look back at the events unfolding around 1923-1924, it is hard to not feel that the whole situation was being played like a game of chess. That as the Chiefs tried to advance the issue of our right to self-determination and unresolved land matters through Deskaheh’s campaigns to Geneva and by being aware of the continual legislative changes that might impact our people; Duncan Campbell Scott was putting measures in place to further discredit the Confederacy and attempting to secure the conversion and assimilation of our people. As if he was constantly on the lookout for any kind of conflict that could be used to support his position. At least two of these kinds of incidents involved the Soldier’s Settlement Act and a local agricultural club (Catapano, 2007). And unfortunately, one of his attempts to undermine us—the Thompson Commission—was successful. It was this report that was the catalyst for the order-in-council that ended the Confederacy Council's rule. 

Among other things, the Thompson report claimed that the situation of governance at Six Nations was primitive, effeminate, ineffective and that there was no written constitution, although he did acknowledge that the form of governance stemmed from a long established custom—referring ostensibly, to the Great Law (Catapano, 2007). 

Thompson’s investigation of “conditions at Grand River” began on September 18, 1923. Not everyone participated in the hearings of this investigation. Some spoke in favour of the Confederacy, including a clan mother who was also Christian (which I mention to explain how nuanced our beliefs sometimes were). Some did not speak in favour of the Confederacy, though Catapano (2007) notes in reviewing the minutes, that the examiner was deliberate in choosing to listen to those who were eager for political and social change. Catapano (2007) further reflects that this is a common strategy—“that a minority of a population in an Indigenous community is used to legitimize government decrees, policy, or land cessions and then, count the absence of voices raised in dissent as virtual support for neo-colonial policy" (p. 232). I would only add that this is not really neo-colonial policy at all, but a progression of colonial policy that we continue to see today (recall for instance, the extinguishment policies of the Specific Claims process).  

Thompson’s report was submitted to the Superintendent General of Indian Affairs on November 22, 1923. The Order-in-Council was passed on September 17, 1924. (Catapano, 2007). The proclamation dissolving the Confederacy Council was read on October 7, 1924.

Moving Forward

Now. I do not tell you any of these things to tell you a sad story. There are many wrong things that happened in this history of ours. But despite these many wrong things—so much good remains. The ceremonies have continued. The Confederacy has continued to meet. Efforts at the international level are ongoing. The Elected Council has done valuable and important work. Our people have continued to learn, understand and fight against these injustices in many different arenas; by learning language, by developing curriculum, by creating space in universities for the truth to be known, by presenting to standing committees, by speaking truth in policy discussions, by rejecting legislation, by leading organizations, by creating reports for the international forums, by writing and performing. By living and healing. By sharing our story with our neighbours. By being willing to hear theirs. By organizing and taking direct action. By having difficult discussions. 

If the Thompson report or something similar were to happen now, I do not doubt that criticisms about the governance here might emerge. Nobody is perfect. Mistakes have been made and will probably continue to be made. But this is what I also know. We are a sovereign, self-determining people. We have inherent rights. We have treaty rights. We have rights enshrined in legislation. We have constitutional rights. We have international support for our rights. And we have work to do to be good ancestors and impactful stewards of the land for future generations. All of this work is made difficult because the wheels of colonization are still in motion and we often work with external governments who don’t always have the benefit of this history and understanding. After all—because of the curriculum I was learning from—this had been me for the first half of my life. And so to me, our strategy needs to be comprehensive and include some of these layers. And then we need to make individual choices about where we fit and how we are going to spend our time learning and helping and giving back. Choices about where and how we will use the gifts we were given. And when there are so many valuable places to spend it, this is not always an easy task. 

Regarding My Own Choices 

There was a time in my late twenties, when I became very ill and my vision became exceptionally blurry. I went to my doctor, my eye doctor, my eye specialist and then back to my doctor once more. I knew something was wrong with me but no tests revealed anything out of the ordinary.

During this time, I felt worse than I had ever felt in my entire life. I felt lonely and disconnected. I worked very long hours and I had very little time for leisure. I was working in an area that was extremely important to me (First Nations education), but everything I was working on felt like a battle that would never end. I tried things I thought could help me restore balance to my life. Taking time off. Answering less emails. Running. Yoga. Green tea. Journaling. None of these activities seemed able to make a substantial difference. The longer it went on, the more indifferent and distant I became to my friends and family. 

Finally, one night, I confessed to a friend what I had been feeling. I was nervous to tell her, nervous to say the words out loud. I thought she would think that I was weak or lying or incapable of making myself happy. I told her anyways. When I was finished, I felt this huge weight falling away from me. It was like I had been wearing a heavy coat of fear and now it was gone. It was a step, a first of many.

It was a few days after this confession that I decided to make an appointment to see one of the traditional readers on the reserve. The appointment was made for late in the summer, a month or more away at the time. I made it knowing that I could change my mind if I wanted to. Full of scepticism, I kept my appointment. By the time the reading was finished, however, I had been given answers and guidance for why I was feeling the way I had been feeling and all of it resonated. The reader explained that I needed a certain ceremony, which in our community, are called feasts. 

Within a few weeks after I went to get my reading done, the feasts were put through and immediately, I felt better. I still had a lot of work to do, to help myself maintain the peace and balance in my life, but my spirit was uplifted and the feast had cleared the path for me to do that work. In those days that followed, I felt like a new person. 

I also felt incredibly grateful. This experience made such an important and positive impact on my life. It was an experience made possible by the continuation of Haudenosaunee culture, knowledge and language and the realization of how important our ceremonies were was very humbling to me. I realized that while I had a bachelor’s degree and critical thinking skills, there were other things that I was missing, things that were very important. I wondered if there were other people, in my family perhaps, or my community, who might be missing it as well and needing a similar kind of help.

Now before I go any further, I need to say that I have a great appreciation for science and technology, as well as the advances that have been made in so many areas concerning individual health and well-being. A part of the reason why I went to the eye doctor when I became sick was because both of my retinas had detached when I was twenty-five. If it had not been for physics and technology, I would be blind today. So I am grateful for science and grateful for physics. I also have enormous appreciation for education and have continued on with my own studies because I've learned so much from other people’s reading and thinking about language, language revitalization, rights and responsibilities, treaties, collaboration, and education itself.

But in this particular case, it was my spirit that needed help. And as long as I neglected to take care of my spirit, it was going to impact other parts of me—my mind, my heart and my body. I realized that if other people were to find themselves in a similar situation as I had been, I wanted to be able to help them. I wanted to help because I was so grateful to the people who helped me and I knew how busy those people are in our community. But to help them beyond what I was able to do now—I realized that one of the things I could do was make a greater commitment to language. 

This is the reason that I'm as devoted to language as much as I am. I realize that we have need of so many kinds of people. Doctors. Lawyers. Artists. Writers. Builders. But language and ceremony brought me back from the brink of self-destruction and in every policy issue I ever encountered, whether it was water, land rights, education and so many others—language was always near (if not at) the core of it. Language and ceremony have also helped many of our family members. And I will always be grateful for that. I will always want to be able to help someone else if they have need of the same things and I want to do my part to make sure that this knowledge thrives, however I can; whether that is writing proposals, doing administrative tasks, writing books, making movies, or learning myself. Whatever it is that I can do to contribute. And I hope to always be helpful and work in service to the people of our community.  

Self-determination

Other communities across Turtle Island face similar challenges as we do and so I think we should always offer our encouragement to them as they move forward and figure things out, and offer them strength in their times of need. Those communities have the same strengths as we do—they too have inherent rights, treaty rights, and all the others that I outlined. So they will continue to create their pathways forward in all kinds of different ways. We can learn from them, as well as support them. 

As for us, and some of our current challenges regarding governance, there are many potential solutions and mechanisms. Many sites of interconnected struggle. Right now, we are hearing calls for a willingness to support, to listen, for goodmindedness, and for participation. This is good. Listening and sharing has always struck me as a good starting point. And while I am committed right now to the things I have chosen to do, there are definitely other things I think we could do that I could help with, like creating a curriculum that tells the story of some of what I have outlined here (although someone may indeed have already done this), to learn more about a potential international mechanism for treaty implementation, to have more informal and formal governance discussions within our community, to create a plan for advocacy at the nation-to-nation, regional, national, and international levels. To pinpoint specific actions and enact policy processes that are proper Treaty roundtables (and whose purpose is not to pass new “modern” extinguishment treaties), to have another layer of policy discussion about urgent day-to-day issues and needs (water, climate change, food security, child welfare, etc), some of which is already happening. Whatever we choose, I can see that certain of these core matters that have been outstanding for over a hundred years need to be addressed. Issues of self-determination. Issues of governance. Matters of land. Matters of treaty. All of these things are up to the nation, of which we are a part and of which we must take part. We can heal and forgive and show compassion and understand that it is possible to work together, to appreciate all of the contributions that we have made, even when our personal opinions and experiences of governance differ. We have done it already, after all and a visit around our community during Community Awareness Week will show you the depth of the wonderful work that is happening here, a great deal of which happens through and with the support of the elected council administration.  

So what I most want to share here with you, my daughters, is that there is hope. I want to thank you for choosing us and this world. I want you to be patient with yourselves and your own learning—even if other people are not patient with you and want you to see things their way, at the exact moment when they want you to. I want you to learn to listen and share your ideas. I want you to know that it is okay to take a hard stance on certain issues—even as many of your peers and future friends will have a difficult time understanding why you continue talking about things that are ‘ancient history’, why you are trying to find alternative solutions and ways forward, why you have chosen the work that you have, why you care about treaties or why you do not define yourself as Canadian. Because ultimately, you are not. You live on Turtle Island. You belong to the Turtle Clan and the Mohawk Nation. You are Ogwehoweh. And I hope you will always be proud of that. 

Kninǫhkwa, 

Etsino̲ha. 

Reading List: 

I have done the best I could with this letter, given the other responsibilities I have at this time. As a result, I feel I have only skimmed the surface of so many issues and have really not done them justice. Further, what I have presented here, is only a part of my evolving understanding. It may be that other people know more or better. It may be that in the days, months and years to come that my understanding will evolve and shift further. And even if it does, I will still strive to practice goodmindedness and appreciation for the people in our community who are striving to do their very best for themselves, their families, their communities and our nation. 

Nonetheless, here is a list of the many things that I have read or watched that have helped me build an understanding of what I have mentioned here. Some of these books are about Six Nations, some are about international law, and some are about water and physics. For me, these subjects intersect. 

I leave it here for you and will probably add to it over the years or when I get more time. I hope one day you will be able to read these books as well. Also, these citations are not in alphabetical order :).  

The List:

Venne, S. H. (1997). Our Elders Understand Our Rights: Evolving International Law Regarding (Doctoral dissertation, University of Alberta).

http://www.nlc-bnc.ca/obj/s4/f2/dsk2/ftp04/mq21232.pdf 

Martinez, M. (1997) Study on Treaties, Agreements and Other Constructive Arrangements Between States and Indigenous (Final Report to the the UN for the "Working Group on Indigenous Peoples”)

http://hrlibrary.umn.edu/demo/TreatiesStatesIndigenousPopulations_Martinez.pdf

McIvor, B. “Canada's Misguided Land Claims Policy”. First Peoples Law. http://www.firstpeopleslaw.com/index/articles/170.php

Venne, S. H. (2011). Treaties made in good faith. Canadian Review of Comparative Literature/Revue Canadienne de Littérature Comparée, 34(1).

Hill, S. M. (2017). The Clay We are Made of: Haudenosaunee Land Tenure on the Grand River (Vol. 20). Univ. of Manitoba Press.

Monture, R. (2014). We share our matters: Two centuries of writing and resistance at six nations of the Grand River. Univ. of Manitoba Press.

Simpson, L. (2011). Dancing on our turtle's back: Stories of Nishnaabeg re-creation, resurgence and a new emergence. Arbeiter Ring Publishing.

Turner, D. A. (2006). This is not a peace pipe: Towards a critical indigenous philosophy. University of Toronto Press.

Barlow, M. (2016)Boiling Point: Government Neglect, Corporate Abuse, and Canada's Water Crisis. ECW Press. 

Turok, N. (2012). The Universe Within: From Quantum to Cosmos. House of Anansi.

Catapano, A. L. (2007). The Rising of the Ongwehonwe: Sovereignty, identity, and representation on the Six Nations Reserve. State University of New York at Stony Brook.

Chiefs of Ontario: Alternative Report to the Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination: 

http://www.chiefs-of-ontario.org/sites/default/files/files/COO%20Alternate%20Report%20to%20UNCERD%20FINAL%202012.pdf 

Report of the Ipperwash Inquiry: https://www.attorneygeneral.jus.gov.on.ca/inquiries/ipperwash/report/

Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada: http://www.trc.ca/websites/trcinstitution/index.php?p=890

Which you can also listen to on Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxPr_RIsvg9JJWoiRx2kl2v24r_pu7JbR

Videos:

Sharon Venne: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpDsMDu8tmY 

Takaiya Blainey: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdAsKzr-sM8

Russ Diabo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECi_7G0QAgw

Steve Newcomb: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZBKbNhfh-c

Eclipse

Part of the reason why I’ve been doing so much art over the past year, is because I’ve always wanted to make graphic novels. Almost every story I write comes to me in some kind of visual form, and so I really want to explore this kind of storytelling over the next year. This story is one of the ones I eventually hope to illustrate. It’s also part of a collection of other writings I hope to release in a short story collection over the next year. It is a story about two assassins, and blends together fantasy, nature, history and science. It is a fictional exploration of stories about Jikonsaseh, the first clan mother, and explores different options about what the potential meaning of her name might have been and imagines a first confrontation with the wizard Tadadaho. There is also a comet and an eclipse—which is part of why I decided to share it today. 

For the PDF: Click here

For the iBook version: Click here 

For a generic EPUB: Click here

These are all the pretty versions of the story. You can also read below! This not the final polished version of the story, so my apologies for any typos or errors. 

I will definitely share more about how this story came to be in the collection. Until then, happy reading. I hope you like it.

S. 

FIRE IN THE SKY

A Short Story

A cannibal. An orator. A chief. There is even another assassin like her on this list, if the rumours are true. She reads through their names, one by one, as if choosing an entree.

"These are the same people as last time," she says.

"I know. What do you think?"

She turns to the window, her eyes finding the top of the waterfall.

I think I'm bored. I think I want out of this life. I think it's time I move on from this thing.

She lifts her glass of water from the table and takes a sip. "The cannibal looks interesting." It's not the first time his name's come up.

"A fine choice, madam."

"I'm glad you agree. Pack my things. I'll leave this evening. I should be gone for no more than two days."

"Very good. And you'll be back in time for the festival."

"The festival?" she sets her glass down, frowning. Then her face softens. "Oh that's right. For the comet."

She'd forgotten that was coming up so soon. Arthur had been telling her about it for weeks. A great fire in the sky, barrelling towards them at incredible speed. He'd been watching its progress from the contraption in his tower. She'd heard it carried another sky woman. That's what everyone was hoping at least. For someone to come and deliver them from their state of perpetual war. There was supposed to be an eclipse too, if she remembered right.

Now that was something she did not want to miss. She glances outside, watches the way the sun filters through the leaves. Through the window she can see water rush away from the falls before dropping into the great cavern below. Was there time to visit Arthur before she left?

Probably not. But it didn't matter. It would be a quick trip.

Two days. There and back. 

And then there would be one less name on the council's list.

***

The woman gets up from her chair. She's younger than he thought she'd be. He looks in his journal, at his notes. He's been studying her for weeks. Collecting reports of her deeds. She's a proper villain. A cold-blooded murderer. A snake disguised in human flesh.

She's left a trail of victims behind her a mile long and she's done it with a finesse he's seldom seen before. Case in point—no bodies have ever been found. He cannot help but respect that. 

She's a business woman, too. This restaurant he's sitting in is hers. It's renowned for its food, the grandness of its setting and its architecture. Even the rumours of her other occupation aren't enough to keep people from lining up to eat her food. The restaurant is always packed, so much so he had to make his lunch reservation days in advance. It's just his luck—or perhaps it's fate too—that he got a glimpse of her before she left.

He spears a piece of heron and pops it in his mouth, which waters at the tenderness of the bird. Blackened over fire and served with crab and garlic stuffed mushrooms, it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. He hadn't known food could taste this good. He was used to eating on the road. Boiled dinners. Dry bread. No embellishments or spices.

This meal was not like those at all.

This was the kind of food people cherished. The kind of food you wanted when you were at the end of days, as they were. He ripped apart a piece of wild strawberry bread, dipped it in the juices leftover from his mushrooms and ate it.  Then he started on the side dish—an assortment of root vegetables glazed with maple syrup and shaved pine nuts.

He closes his eyes, savours every bite.

Heavens alive.

This meal alone was enough to kill a man.

The server comes by and refills his glass of water with a smile.

He thinks, but is not entirely sure, that he just saw her choose her next victim.

A part of him regrets she is going to be his.

***

The thing to remember about the Finger Lakes is that like everything else they were once submerged beneath the great sea. Then came Skywoman and her giant sons, battling across the world, leaving the mark of their battle upon the earth she spun from her steps—a song of hills, slopes and valleys.

The forest has grown from such a legacy. Sugar maple and hemlock in the upper lands. Oak in the drier regions. Sycamore and cottonwood in the floodplains. There are swamps and wetlands and bogs. It is a world covered in green.

Even still, the sea makes itself known in the lakes and the rivers and the streams.

That is what she loves about water. Why she chose to live and build her restaurant near the falls. Water gives life to everything. It shapes everything. Without it—there would be nothing but smoke and ash. When she crosses the trails, sets her foot upon the land, she remembers she wants something more for herself than what she's inherited. She too, wants to give life to the world.

But an assassin cannot give life. An assassin only takes.

She lifts her face to the sky, adjusts her course and continues on. It's late summer. She doesn't need much to sustain her for this trip. Her pack is light and she moves quickly and easily across the land, almost as if she's flying. She's travelled these valleys so often there is not an inch of them she has not seen, though there are some places she does not often get to go.

Still. She craves new sights. New destinations. Further north there are rumours of a great waterfall—a place of pure magic. The story goes that a great snake fell there—a monster so formidable only the Thunder beings could defeat it.

She got chills just thinking about it.

That was the other thing she liked about water. It could calm even the most vile creatures. The most fearsome monsters. Including herself, though she had not set out to become any such thing.

If the restaurant was something she built from the ground with her bare hands then her work as an assassin was something that'd been chosen for her. Something she'd been pushed into.

Why had the council chosen her? She would never know. She'd been the youngest of five girls who'd been trained in the deadly arts. Poisonous plants. Archery. Hand to hand combat.

In the beginning, they had fought only monsters. Great serpents. Wild beasts. But then something had changed within the hearts of men. Darkness entered their spirits and she and the other girls had been sent forth to investigate. Next thing she knew; their entire purpose was altered.  

Now she was the only one left and there was always someone her masters wanted to die.

Good people. Bad people. Old people. Young people. It was this more than anything that kept her in the business. So long as the despicable council wanted something from her, she stayed off their radar. So long as she kept crossing names from their list, she could keep her secret.

***

He can barely keep up with her. She moves like wind and does not stop to eat. She doesn't stop to make camp, either, which he'd been counting on. He almost loses her twice in the night. By the time the sun breaks the sky he has found her again and only, he thinks, because she has finally stopped running.

They've come to a village, a large settlement of five hundred, maybe more. It sits in the valley between two rock faces, split apart long ago by the great giants who fought across Turtle Island.

It doesn't take him long to realize who her target is. The great wizard is notorious. A cannibal.

More than once, he's found Tadadaho's name on his own list and chosen not to pursue it. But she's not like him. She's trying to turn her life around. She's trying to leave her legacy of killing behind and start something new.

And this is exactly why he's been sent to end her.

She has, as her handlers stated, outgrown her usefulness.

***

She eases her way into the village, masquerading as a lone traveller headed over the mountain to see a distant relative in the next village over. When people will talk to her, she interviews them about the dangers that lie in wait.

The stories she hears about the wizard get crazier and crazier.  He eats people. He had his brother killed. He has eyes in the back of his head. The wind is his friend and it blows your scent toward him, making it easier for him to find and catch you. All of his limbs are twisted and crooked. He has snakes in his hair.

One thing seems to be certain. Every month, someone has to be sent to him. If they are not, he will stop the water, for he lives in a cave next to the source of the river—a mile or so above them in the hanging valley. 

Usually someone volunteers, they tell her. And if no one does, they draw stones among them. Never children. And never a woman who is pregnant or has young ones. She can see these rules don't really comfort anyone. That they live their lives trying to pretend they don't exist.

I should have come here sooner, she thinks. I should have come here first.

Children play in the centre of the village, easy games of kickball and tag. It is a small, provincial kind of place, but the shadow of the mountain still hangs heavy over them—a constant reminder of the menace that stalks them.

She finds it remarkable these people can know any kind of peace so close to a monster's lair but then that is a child's power. Their resilience and optimism can almost be mistaken for magic, their laughter a barrier between dreams and nightmares.

She doesn't want to kill Tadadaho. But his name was on the list and she chose him and so she has to deal with him. He cannot be allowed to continue in his terrible ways. 

The village has a restaurant of sorts. Not in the same league as hers but a place where she can eat a small meal of onion soup and corn bread. She pays handsomely for a pack of dried meat, offering not only gold but seeds she's planted in her own garden.

"These will grow in any conditions," she tells the cook. "Your people may need them one day. Mine did."

In the restroom, she sharpens her knife, and the tip of her spear. She counts her arrows, bundled together with the smallest and most precise bow she has. Her last weapon barely looks like a weapon at all but it is the most powerful in her arsenal. Shards of crystal mixed with salt. They fill a worn leather pouch that sits neatly in the palm of her hand. She tucks it beneath her shirt and reaches for her knife. This is the weapon she's best with.

She hates how easily her thoughts bend toward violence. She's been trying to put her killing ways behind her. Trying to find another way to heal that which ails the people of this land, asking herself what it would take. What if instead of sitting here, thinking about how to kill this crazy old man—she could heal the darkness that lay inside him?

We used to be able to do this, she thinks. We used to be able to slay monsters with our minds.

Maybe they still can.

***

He can't follow her into the village. Two strangers appearing on the same day would draw attention and he's learned by now that if he doesn't take her by surprise he might not take her at all.

He circles wide through the forest, creeping along the edges, watching the village from the trees. He's tired but he doesn't stop. Instead he travels to the bottom of the mountain and begins making his way to the hanging valley.

The air grows crisper, colder, as he climbs. The wind rustles thin branches in the trees above. Autumn will be here soon. Some of the leaves have begun to turn. Winter will follow and when it does he can finally put his weapons down and rest for the season. The thought is comforting and he pushes on, reenergized for the task ahead.

It's obvious no one travels this way very often. The trail leading over the hills is overgrown with brush and ferns. The forest is plentiful with game. Rabbits. Fox. Deer. They watch him from the sidelines, as if wondering what kind of being he is. More man? Or more monster?

Probably the latter, he thinks, for he feels right at home here on the mountain. He is not afraid of anyone or anything. He is not afraid of the wizard. When the girl has killed him and he has killed the girl, maybe he will spend the winter months here.

It's the perfect place for monsters to live.

Tadadaho's cave is at the very heart of the hanging valley, like he's chosen to place his lair at the top of the world to better torment the people who live on either side of it.

A red bellied woodpecker flitters through the brush and lands on the branch next to him. Tufts of red feathers cover the top of its head and its speckled wings are tipped with black. It twitters a song and he thinks he knows what it's saying.

She's coming.

The bird is right.

No sooner has it taken flight than he sees the top of her head, black hair bobbing up and down, the rest of her coming into view shortly after. She carries no weapon, only her pack. Her face shows the strain of the incline on her body but she does not slow down her pace and with a final burst of energy she has conquered the climb. She takes a long drink from her water bag, ties it back around her waist and wipes her face with the back of her sleeve.

There is only one thing left for her to do.

Slay the beast.

***

The sickly-sweet smell hits her like a wall of stone. Acrid doesn't even begin to describe it. This is not one dead body. This is not even a dozen dead bodies. This is the smell of scores upon scores of victims. Of flesh and meat. Of muscle and fat. Of blood and bone.

This is death, she thinks. This is death and I will never leave this cave. Never leave this scent behind.

She staggers on her feet, overwhelmed. She draws her scarf tight around her face, her mouth.

For the first time she realizes she might actually have to kill him. For who can come back from this? Who can regain their mind after this?

Who deserves to?

She catches herself. It is not her place to judge. Only her place to carry out the sentence.

Someone has to decide—to say when enough is enough. But it's not her. At least, that was what they were told, she and her sisters. That they should be proud. That they were putting an end to the terrors in the night.

What causes the terrors in the first place? Her sisters once asked. Wouldn't it be better if we stopped that first?

She stopped seeing the other girls after that. One by one they disappeared until it was like they never existed.

Her eyes scan the darkness. White and grey bones litter the floor.

They are animal bones, she tells herself. Every last one of them. Animal bones. And the people who are sent here pass safely over the mountain. The wizard does not catch them. But they still do not return, because who would would want to pass this place a second time?

The story makes her feel better. Breathe easier.

It might even be true.

Something moves in the corner of her eye. She freezes. Her head twists to the side. Her spear is in her hands and in two steps she has her would-be assailant pressed up against the walls of the cave, her blade pressing past his leather vest and into his gut.

"I was wondering when you were going to show your face," she says.

***

Her spear jabs into his stomach.

"Ow!" He winces. "Stop it."

She presses him harder. "Why are you following me?"

"Why do you think?"

"Only a fool would come here." Her eyes narrow. "Or a murderer. Which are you?"

A pile of dead leaves rattles the floor of the cave, swirls around their feet and drifts out of the entrance in a tiny whirlwind. It is not a natural wind. He looks past her and his heart skips a beat.

Tadadaho stands there, watching them.

He is hideous. A horror to look at, as terrible as all the stories suggest. He can feel the wizard's magic creep toward them, crawling over his skin like a thousand fire ants, preparing to sink their teeth in.

The wizard raises his hand, long fingers reach out.

"Oh no."

White and blue light fills the cave and a crackling noise echoes off the walls as he hurls a ball of light at them. The girl dives out of the way, dragging him with her and in his head, he makes note of the fact that she has just saved his life.

The ball of light hits the side of the cave where they once stood. The walls tremble and shake. Splintered rock falls from the darkness above. One shard strikes him on the back of the head.

"Ow. Shit." He reaches up and feels the blood through his matted hair. "That escalated quickly."

He raises his bow and takes aims at the wizard.

"No!" She claps her hand down on the arrow's shaft, forcing the tip to the ground. 

"What are you you doing? He'll kill us both."

"We can save him," she says.

"Save him? Why would we want to do that?"

"Look at him! He's human. Just like you and me."

He hears her words and knows they're true. But even hearing them can't stop what he sees when he looks at the old man. Twisted. Crazed. Gone made with power. Probably cursed.

"Why did you come here if you weren't going to kill him?"

Her breath is ragged. "Because. I came here to help him."

***

In truth, it's been a long time since she's killed anyone. That's her secret. Her restaurant is filled with the people she was supposed to have killed. But instead of bringing them death—she brought them freedom and healing. Found them. Sent them away with strict instructions on what to do and when to do it. And later, after they become new people, they make their way back to her with new identities and new faces. Forty-nine in all and her staff is still growing.

She's only ever killed two people and while she can't take it back—their deaths haunt her.

But she does not know if she can do the same with Tadadaho. There is too much evil. Too much darkness.

The old wizard comes at her and she hurls the salt into his face. He screams, his hands clawing at his eyes as he staggers away. His movements are so pitiful, she cannot believe she just inflicted more harm on his damaged spirit. And yet—this cave is evidence of what he's capable of.

I'm helping him. In the long run. I'm helping him.

She has to believe that. 

It was foolish to come here without more magic—she can see that now. But she has enough power with her to keep him here, keep him from leaving this mountain, keep him from clogging up the flow of the river with his sorcery. It will have to be enough—at least until a more permanent solution presents itself. She's just lucky she's not here alone.

"Keep him away from me, but don't kill him," she tells the young man.

"Why should I listen to you?" he asks.

"Because. This man is a sorcerer. A powerful one. And if you think you stand a chance against him with your bow and arrow you're an even bigger fool than I thought."

She digs into the pouch gathering a handful of salt. She whispers an incantation under her breath to invoke the full power of the crystals it contains. She moves as fast as she can, tracing an area outside the cave. Her feet carry her over rock, over water, all the while creating a boundary of where Tadadaho can and cannot travel, penning him in like an animal.

It is not a pleasant thing to do to another person, but she can't see another way. She returns to the entrance of the cave and calls into it. Her voice sounds into its depths.

"There is food enough to sustain you out here on the land, but the villagers who take the mountain pass will no longer be at your mercy."

Her voice is softer when she next speaks.

"I will come back for you. Or someone will. Someone who can truly help ease your suffering."

***

He follows her back down the mountain. Her movements are sluggish and awkward, or about as sluggish and awkward as he can imagine them getting. It would be a good time to kill her, really. She's tired and weary. But he's not sure he can just do the deed. Not after what they just saw. Not after what they just shared.

Evidently, she doesn't feel the same way. The second they reach the valley she wheels around, her bow drawn, ready to shoot an arrow into his face.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he says, lifting his hands up.

"What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I came here to kill you," he says.

"Why?" she demands.

"Because. Your name's on the list."

She processes that with a blink. "I didn't realize there was more than one."

"I reckon there has to be, when you're on it," he shrugs, his hands still in the air.

"So what now? Do we fight?" Her voice carries a slight mocking tone.

"We could. But I was thinking we could have a meal together instead."

She raises her eyebrows. "A meal together. You think I'm going to have dinner with someone I know is trying to kill me?"

"Why not?"

"Because that's insane."

"It's a little insane. But there are crazier things." He gestures toward the mountain behind them as if to prove his point.

She narrows her eyes at him, her head tilting as she considers his offer. Her skin is smooth and golden. Her hair as black as crow's feathers. There is something intimidating about her and it isn't just her skill. It isn't even her beauty. Something burns inside her. A mission. A sense of purpose that has nothing to do with killing.

There is something else between them too, he realizes. They are both young. Both attractive. He is suddenly conscious his playfulness could be construed another way.

It should bother him, but it doesn't. Indeed, he is more drawn to her than he wants to admit. He wants to—needs to—spend more time with her.

Any other assassin would have said no to his offer. Not her.

She lowers her bow. "We can eat at my restaurant. Until then. Keep your distance."

"Upon my honour," he says, laying one hand over his heart.

They walk in silence for a while. As they cross back over the land, the tension between them grows less and less pronounced. Nothing would erase it completely, of course, but after a time he deems it safe to address her once again.

"So those crystals you have. You're sure they'll hold him?"

"They'll hold him."

"How do you know?"

"Because. They're special. They have power. When used for the right purpose."

"To heal people," he says.

"That's not all they do. But it's one thing."

"How did you become an assassin?"

"I didn't choose this life, if that's what you're asking. My parents died when I was still a girl. The people who raised me so—," she cuts herself off. "Gave me to another family. They were the ones who taught me this."

"I see."

There was a long silence. "What about you?"

"My parents died when I was young as well," he says. "I suppose I just had to look out for myself. And one thing led to another. And another."

"Not a very happy story."

"Few stories are."

"That's true," she says.

They continue on, moving alongside the river. Every once in a while, their arms brush up against one another. She is exhausted but trying to pretend she isn't. She stumbles and instead of striking her down he reaches out to catch her, holding her arm as she steadies herself once more.

Finally, they reach the great village and walk along the streets until the lights of her restaurant come back into view.

She stops at the bottom of the stairs leading up to it and turns to him. The moon shines bright on her face making her beauty almost otherworldly. Can he really kill so lovely a woman?

Yes. The answer is yes. But not if he waits.

"Tomorrow then?" she asks.

He pauses. "Yes. Tomorrow."

***

She stands in her room, in the dark, clutching the bag of crystals to her chest. The light of the moon shines through her window and onto the floor, pooling around her feet like a puddle.

Tomorrow night she will watch the sky from Arthur's telescope but tonight, she gazes upon the stars with her own eyes. She can make out a single, orange speck. Seven dancers, rising and falling. The great bear, howling its way across the world—his pursuers at his back.

All of these things look different when seen up close, through Arthur's telescope. Next to the crystals, the telescope is the closest thing she has ever known to magic. It has shown her the moon and more. Planets with their own families orbiting around them, a silent sentry. Arthur thinks maybe they are also moons but she is not sure. She doesn't need answers the same way he does. It's enough to be able to look out and know that the universe is much bigger than she is. That it will go on much longer than she will.

She has a feeling her time is coming to an end.

It doesn't have to. She could kill the man. But she knows she won't. Knows she can't.

Her only hope is mercy and compassion. It always has been.

Her sleep is deep and dreamless.

***

The food is especially good tonight. They are served a full course meal, though not from the menu. Instead she picks everything they eat, from the main dishes to the sides. 

Venison with prawn and pine. Trout with wild rice and a raspberry glaze. Nuts coated with honey and maple syrup, served on a bed of green, leafy lettuce. Sliced bison with turnip and radish. The stuffed mushrooms he had the first time he ate there.

He eats everything she brings him without fear. In his bag he carries an antidote for any poison she could possibly hit him with and he's starting to think she's telling him the truth about her desire to heal rather than harm.

He's dressed up for the occasion and is pleased to find that she has, too. He wears a black shirt, a black leather vest and black pants. She wears a red dress, embroidered around the hem and cuffs with an elaborate flower pattern. A necklace of turquoise hangs around her neck. Her soft-soled boots lace up to her calves, made from worn black leather, the assassin's calling card. Hers have been polished to a shine. Her raven hair is parted on either side of her face and hangs down in loose waves.

She is as beautiful as the food tastes but he is still going to end her.

They chat idly. About the food, the festival. The comet that is coming. She tells him she has plans to watch it, describing a great looking glass he can hardly believe exists.

A server comes and clears the dinner plates away and as dessert is served, the subject turns to the matter they have both been avoiding.

"I can see you have questions," she says. "Why don't you ask them?"

"All right." He takes a bite of his dessert—chocolate coated strawberries with walnut shavings sprinkled over top and served on a flat corncake—and swallows. "You let him live. Why?"

She frowns and cocks her head. "Not the question I thought you were going to start with."

"But it's the one I have. Tadadaho's a monster. You'd have been doing everyone a favour if you killed him. So why didn't you?"

"Does the reason matter?" She arches one eyebrow. Her voice carries a challenge. "You're going to kill me anyways."

"Humour me."

"I already did tell you why. Was my reason not good enough?"

"Not really."

She makes a face at him. "Why not?"

"Because you had a job to do. You swore an oath. You swore you would carry out the council's orders."

"And I have been."

"Rehabilitation is not a part of the plan," he says in a wry voice.

She shrugs. "My plan is better."

"I doubt the council sees it that way."

"I don't care what they see. I know I'm right."

"Well it doesn't matter if you're right, does it? You've screwed yourself. Why didn't you just kill him and save your own neck?"

"Because that’s not who we are." She slams one palm down on the table. Their glasses rattle and hop. Her eyes are blazing and for a moment, her beauty burns so bright it takes everything in his power to look away. And he has to look away. He can't allow himself to see her sincerity, her conviction.

"They will come for you." He forces himself to speak, lifting his gaze to hers.

She lets out a noise of disgust. "Then let them come. You think I didn't know that was a possibility? They can't stand to see a woman grow strong. They can't stand what will happen when we lead. When we succeed."

She sits back in her chair. Her eyes move over the restaurant.

"It took me years to build this place. Stone by stone. I met a glassmaker, Arthur. An engineer who travelled here when the doors between our world and the others were still open. Before the bluff fell."

He nodded. He knew the story of the bluff. The stories say it had been a portal once, between their world and six others. Realms of beauty and magic and science. Then for no reason whatsoever—it had closed. All the light had vanished with it and darkness had risen up in its place.

"We built the windows. The lights. The mirrors. Everything you see here, we built together. Because this is what happens when you honour the gifts of another person. You can make things, greater than you can alone."

"Buildings fall. People die."

She snorts. "You know nothing."

"I know you let a murderer live."

"You're right. I did." She glares at him from across the table. "It's a mistake easily rectified."

There. At least she's threatening him now. He needs to see her venom.

"So what now?" he asks.

"The way I see it—we have a choice." She sets her elbows on the table. "You can try to kill me, if that's what you want. If you can't be dissuaded from your mission, so be it. But I saved your life in the mountains and so you will not try to trick me into death. We will fight face to face, weapon to weapon."

He nods. It was fair. It was more than fair.

"Sounds reasonable. And the other option?"

"You could join me," she says.

"Join you?"

"Yes. You could put down your weapons and you could join me. You could help me protect these people. You could help me build a different future."

He almost laughs. Was she serious? Does she really think he would ever consider helping her?  

"When do we fight?"

Colour drains from her face but her voice is steady. "After the comet. I want to see it. And I want you to see it, too. Maybe it will knock some sense into you."

She pushes her chair away and gets to her feet. "Until then," she says.

"Until then."

***

The fields behind her restaurant are filled with food. Tonight's festival is not just for the comet. The harvest is coming and standing here looking out at their huge and wild garden, she knows this will be their best year yet. There are pumpkins and squash. Potatoes and carrots. Rows upon rows of corn.

It shoots up into the sky, a foot or more taller than she is. She walks beside it, trailing one hand through its leaves as she goes.

Arthur is waiting for her when she finally returns.

"I thought that was you," he says. "What are you doing here? I thought you would be down at the festival by now."

"You know how I feel about crowds."

"I do know. Which is why I've ordered us a special treat. It'll be ready in the tower. We'll watch this comet in style," he says. His eyes glow with an anticipation she shares. "It's the dawning of a new age, dear friend. You'll see."

She does want to see. She wants to see it all unfold. She wants to hear Arthur's stories again, the story of other worlds and wonders. But when she looks into her future all she can see is darkness. The fight that is coming.

She wishes she felt better about it.

Arthur steps closer to her, his face a mask of concern. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," she lies. "It's just the wizard. I guess I'm still thinking about him. I wish I could have done more for him."

"The answer will come. It's as I said. The world is changing."

She forces herself to smile. "And not a moment too soon. Go on without me. I'll be there soon."

She waits for him to go and turns around again, to gaze out at the fields. Laughter and music drifts up from the village.

So much happiness and here she is thinking what weapon she'll use and whether she'll really be able to use it.

Footsteps sound behind her and she turns, expecting to find Arthur.

Instead the assassin stands there in his all-black dinner clothes, an arrow drawn and pointed at her face.

***

"What are you doing?" she asks. Wide eyes move from his face to the weapon in his hands. It's obvious he's caught her off guard—that she expected him to keep his word.

"I can't wait until the comet passes."

"Why not?" Her voice is sharp, alert.

"I think you know why."

She takes a deep breath and lets it go, closing her eyes. When she opens them again he can see years of suppressed guilt and shame swirl inside them.

"They were your parents, weren't they?"

He nods. He can still remember finding their bloated bodies slumped over the dinner table, their plates still full with food. It is not the kind of sight you leave behind. Not the kind of smell you ever forget.

"You poisoned them."

"I didn't know." She shakes her head. Her voice is barely a whisper. "They told me it would put them to sleep, nothing more. That it would make it easier to take what we'd been sent for."

"Their crystals."

"Yes."

Crystals. His parents murdered for a pile of liquid rock. But of course, they are not just any rocks. They carry the old magic.

"I am so incredibly sorry," she says.

He doesn't answer her. He is not sure what to say. The council told him she would try to trick him, that she would try to turn this around on them. But he's an assassin. He's gotten good at reading people moments away from death and though he wants to believe this is all an act—that she's just pretending—he can't. 

A lump formed in his throat, making speech difficult. "I know," he manages and cringes at the way his voice catches against it.

Her eyes well up with tears. She's holding her hands up in front of her and he knows he's won. She's not going to fight back. He's caught her somewhere she would never take a weapon. She is ready to die, but she still wants to understand why and how.

He can see her piecing it together in her mind. Patching his movements together.

"You followed me,” she says. “You wanted to make sure it was you and not the wizard who killed me."

"It wouldn't be revenge if it weren't by my hand.”

"So you let me stop him. And you let me come back here. To this place."

Her eyes flicker around her, at all the things that are growing, at the one place she would never want to see violence. All her staff knew of the time she spent here. How sacred a space this was to her. It was not so hard to get them to speak of it. They were so proud of their mistress, after all. Happy to speak of her.

"Yes."

She gives her head a little shake, touches her hand to her face to wipe away her tears. "You're good," she says. "I never saw you coming."

Do it now. Do it now before you lose your nerve.

"Turn around."

She turns, strands of her black hair catching in the breeze. The sky is dark now except for a single fire blazing in the sky, moving closer and closer. There is no one around to see, just rows upon rows of corn.

"They're coming for you, too," she says. "Your name is on the list."

"I know."

He was a loose end. It was to be expected. He lowers his bow and takes his knife out from his belt. He reaches around her and places one hand on her forehead.

He hesitates—knows he shouldn't.

"You know why I came," he says. "But do you know why they sent me?"

Her voice is small. "Because I didn't take the crystal back. Because I told them I couldn't find it."

"You lied," he says.

"I lied."

"What did you do with it?"

"I kept it. I found someone to tell me what it did. They did that and more. They taught me to heal people. They thought I was special..." her voice trails off. She shakes her head and her hair brushes against his face, filling his nose with the scent of corn and honey.

"And then I made a decision. I used the money I earned from my jobs to pay the people I hired."

"You paid your staff with the money you were given to kill them?"

"Yes," she says. "What happened to your family should never have happened. And as long as I live, it will never happen again. I swear it."

His hand tightens on the handle of his knife. It is too much. Too, too much.

He leans forward, resting his head against her shoulder. "I want to believe you," he says, not bothering to disguise the anguish he feels.

"Then look around you," she says, her voice choking with emotion. She turns in his arms and lifts her tear-stained face to his. "This is who I am. This is what I built. Every day from that day, this is what I have created with my regret. With my sorrow. Your parents did not die in vain. They launched a revolution."

Her hands cup his face. He lifts his gaze to hers.

"And our work is not done," she says. "Join me. Help us. You don't have to kill for them anymore."

His knife falls to the ground. His hands clasp her shoulders and they drop to their knees, together. His fingers are tangled up in her hair and he is gripping her so tight he is half-afraid he will squeeze her to death. She doesn't notice. Her face is buried in his chest and she is sobbing into it. They go on for some time, finally breaking away from one another. The comet blazes across the sky, illuminating both of their faces.

He stares into its blistering light, searing the sky like a torch. He feels like his old self is melting away, and he can see with piercing clarity the pain he's inflicted. The harm he's caused. The lives he's taken.

No more. Every desire he once had for vengeance is gone. There is much to repair. Much to atone for. Hope sparks like fire inside his chest.

She's right. What happened to him should never happen to anyone ever again. The time for change has come.

No doubt the council will send people for her. For him. But they will stand together. The new dawn is rising. With any luck, this time it will rise on the side of the people.

THE END

Reconnecting with Writing & Art. Plus, a Surprise!

Being a writer while being in a full-time doctoral program, maintaining a full-time job, and trying to learn a language is really challenging. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been reminded time and time again just how important it is to keep my creative work a priority, because stories and art are my passion. So much of the energy I have for all my other roles stems from being creative and doing creative work. 

This past weekend, I spent most of my time working on book projects and as a result, I feel happier and healthier than I have in months. And while I love all the other things I do, this made me realize I can’t let myself go this long without working on my creative projects—especially when I’ve invested so much time and energy into finding amazing resources and tools to help me do them. It’s a balancing act I think we all face to some degree, and it seems like it’s one I’ll probably continue to struggle with for the next year as I finish up my school work. 

On the bright side though—I'm super grateful I have a place to go to re-energize. Working around the house this weekend, I got so excited about all the reading, writing, creating, painting and learning I want and need to do to make the art I want to make. I have books about illustration, design, copyright, research, language learning and screenwriting all waiting to be read. I have my Wacom tablet, new paints and canvasses, and new notebooks ready to be filled. And bit by bit, I am going to do just that! 

This weekend I also got to try out a new program that I invested in a few months ago. It’s called Vellum, and it’s an amazing book creation app that formats both ebook and print layouts (Note: only available for Mac users at this time, my apologies!). I used it to format a special project I’ve been working on over the last few months and also to update the ebook versions of The Vampire Skeleton Series book, which—surprise!—now have new covers. Check them out below! 

I love these covers so much. They were designed by James T. Egan of Bookfly Designs, who just does really excellent work. I’ve worked with James a few times now and I am always really inspired by his creativity, experience and professionalism. I’m so happy with how they turned out! There are currently two books in this series and the third book will be coming out this September. The new book is called A Spectacle of Stones and I will be putting it up for pre-order in a few weeks (the first time I’ve ever tried doing this, so I'm looking forward to learning the process). I’m really excited to share the cover for this book as well, and will be doing that in a few weeks! 

Ahhhh. It's been a whirlwind couple of weeks and I actually have more exciting news to share, but I think I will save it until my next post! Until then, happy creating everyone!

S.