“Hold out your hands and let me lay upon them a sheaf of freshly picked sweetgrass, loose and flowing, like newly washed hair… Hold the bundle up to your nose. Find the fragrance of honeyed vanilla over the scent of river water and black earth and you understand its scientific name: Hierochloe odorata, meaning the fragrant, holy grass. In our language it is called wiingaashk, the sweet-smelling hair of Mother Earth. Breathe it in and you start to remember things you didn’t know you had forgotten.” Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass
I’ve been working on my first podcast in a nature series, and as part of my research I visited Ganondagan, a cultural center and historic site that was the home of the Seneca Nation of the Iroquois Confederacy. It has an intriguing array of programs, from animal tracking to music to meditation to dance. Last Sunday, I heard Robin Wall Kimmerer speak about her book, Braiding Sweetgrass, which I highly recommend to anyone who cares about nature, the land, and saving the earth.
I first heard of Robin Kimmerer via Elizabeth Gilbert, who found the inspiration for her book, The Signature of All Things, when she read Gathering Moss by Kimmerer.
I’m about a quarter of the way through Braiding Sweetgrass. I’m loving the poetry of her writing as I take in the simple but profound indigenous wisdom Kimmerer is eager to pass on. It’s wisdom we as a culture have long overlooked and which may save us all, if we pay attention. Braiding Sweetgrass is a book to read slowly and savor.
Robin is a botanist, a professor of environmental biology, and a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. She is descended from the Anishinabekwe of the New England region; in the forced Native American migration her people settled in Oklahoma.
There, her grandfather, by law, had to leave the reservation when he was nine years old to attend public school. At that point, their language and most of their indigenous wisdom was lost.
Robin has spent a good part of her adulthood reclaiming both as she also pursues the life of a botanist and university professor.
Making sweet grass medicine. © Ad Meskens / Wikimedia Commons
Here Robin expresses what she aimed for in writing Braiding Sweetgrass:
“I offer…a braid of stories meant to heal our relationship with the world. This braid is woven from three strands: indigenous ways of knowing, scientific knowledge, and the story of an Anishinabekwe scientist trying to bring them together in service to what matters most. It is an intertwining of science, spirit, and story – old stories and new ones that can be medicine for our broken relationship with earth, a pharmacopoeia of healing stories that allow us to imagine a different relationship, in which people and land are good medicine for each other.”
I’ve still many pages to go, so I’ll write more once I finish the book. I’ll leave you with this:
“In the settler mind, land was property, real estate, capital or natural resources. But to our people, it was everything: identity, the connection to our ancestors, the home of our nonhuman kinfolk, our pharmacy, our library, the source of all that sustained us….It belonged to itself; it was a gift, not a commodity, so it could never be sold.”
3 thoughts on “Braiding Sweetgrass”
I’d never heard of sweetgrass until I read this post last week. This weekend I started reading this (great) memoir and it talks much about sweetgrass and Native American beliefs. Fun coincidence. Here’s the book, which I’ll review soon: http://www.amazon.com/Barefoot-Lake-Boyhood-Cottage-Country/dp/177164155X?ie=UTF8&keywords=barefoot%20at%20the%20lake&qid=1464714520&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1
How lovely. I grew up on a the Saginaw Chippewa reservation in central Michigan. I’m not sure how such a housing situation worked out, as I am not Ojibwe, but if you look at a map of the res, my house was in it. There is a college in my hometown, Central Michigan University, home of the Chips (as in Chippewas). The tribe has a good relationship with the school and likes being the mascot because it is not made silly or racist in any way. The college also offers Ojibwe as a language students can take to fulfill their second language requirements for a degree, which I think is amazing. Ojibwe is dying out, but the tribe is working hard to forge connections with schools to keep it alive.
That is great that they are teaching Ojibwe. They have classes in Mohawk and other languages at Ganondagan.