The Earth Remembers: Soil, Seeds, and the Future of Indigenous Plant Life

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When we lay our feet upon the ground whether walking through forests, fields, or city streets we often walk unaware of the stories held beneath us. The soil is not lifeless dirt but a vibrant archive, holding millennia of memory. Within its dark layers lie the echoes of fire, flood, frost, and footsteps, stories imprinted by plants that once flourished, medicines that healed, and foods that sustained entire communities. This earth remembers, and if we pause to listen, it will teach us how to heal and regenerate what has been lost. 

The Responsibility of Humanity: Healing Takes Time 

Healing the earth is no simple task. The scars of human impact from industrial extraction to sprawling urban growth are deep and lasting. These wounds are not mended within a single lifetime but unfold across generations, measured in ecological cycles far older than our own. The process of bio-regeneration, the natural ability of ecosystems to renew, repair, and restore themselves, depends on intricate relationships between soil nutrients, native plants, and healthy water systems. It is a slow, fragile, and profoundly relational dance, reminding us that human urgency must make room for earth’s rhythms. 

The Knowledge Beneath Our Feet: Roots, Networks, Life

Indigenous Peoples have long understood that beneath the surface lies a hidden world of interconnected roots, intertwined fungi networks, and microorganisms working unseen yet essential to the health of all life. These subterranean relationships weave resilience and communication, binding ecosystems together. When native plants vanish or are displaced, these lifelines weaken, unravelling the fabric that sustains water retention, nutrient cycling, and soil fertility. 

Restoration is not merely about planting seeds above ground; it is about rekindling these ancient, living connections below the surface. This is where true regeneration begins, life branching out in all its richness, supporting the ecosystem in ways both visible and hidden. 

Plant Foods and the Sacred Return to Place 

The resurgence of Indigenous plant foods, including ancestral varieties of corn, beans, squash, wild rice, and berries, as well as traditional medicines, embodies a sacred act of returning. It is not just about food security; it is about restoring memory, balance, and a sense of belonging. These plants are not strangers but kin, evolved alongside the waters, soils, pollinators, and seasons of their birthplaces. Their reintroduction reignites that timeless conversation between earth below and sky above, between roots and leaves, a reciprocal renewal of biodiversity and cultural survival. 

This symbiotic dance reconnects us to place and each other, reminding us that healing the land means healing the relationships we hold with all living beings around us.  

Plant Memory and Indigenous Worldview: Teachers and Relatives  

In Indigenous worldviews, plants are not mere objects; they are teachers, relatives, and keepers of knowledge. Their memory is holistic, carried in seeds, genetic code, and the stories they bear. These plants remember the pollinators that visit them, the soils that nourish them, and the people who have harvested and cared for them through generations. 

When invasive species erase native plants from a landscape, entire ecosystems lose their stories and identities. Returning to Indigenous plants means reclaiming cultural memory and restoring the deep reciprocity between people, plants, insects, animals, and the earth, a tapestry vital to resilience. 

The Challenge of Invasive Species: Disrupting Balance, Disrupting Culture

Across regions like the Great Lakes, invasive species garlic mustard, phragmites, and buckthorn disrupt soil chemistry, shade out seedlings, and monopolize resources crucial to native biodiversity. Aquatic invaders, such as zebra mussels, choke lakes and rivers, threatening native plants and fish that are central to Indigenous lifeways. 

These invasives are not just ecological invaders; they fracture cultural relationships cherished for generations. Healing the land thus calls for revitalizing native populations, respecting cultural ties, and reclaiming places from disruption. 

The Science of Soil in a Changing Climate: Living Systems Under Siege 

Beneath what many call “dirt” lies a living, breathing community of minerals, fungi, and microbes, all orchestrating fertility and resilience. Climate change, however, exerts a significant impact on soil systems. More frequent droughts, harsh floods, and unchecked erosion strip away nutrients and vitality. 

Without healthy soil, plants falter, medicines become scarce, and entire livelihoods falter. The foundation of plant-based economies, from Indigenous harvests to broader food systems, wavers as soil health declines. 

Indigenous Stewardship: Seeds, Sanctuaries, and Sovereignty 

Across Turtle Island, Indigenous communities answer this call with fierce care. Community seed banks protect ancestral varieties, not merely genetic stock, but living relatives that hold stories, teachings, and ecological memory. Each seed is sovereignty in waiting. 

Restoration efforts abound: the Haudenosaunee nurture seed libraries that preserve heirloom plants, while the Anishinaabe work tirelessly to heal wild rice beds ravaged by industry. These projects are ecological and profoundly cultural, reinforcing responsibilities that begin beneath our feet. 

Returning the Mind to the Earth: Reciprocal Healing

The soil is a patient teacher, reminding us that life thrives on reciprocity and balance. When humans take without giving back, the earth remembers. To restore ecosystems, revive plant medicines and foods, and safeguard biodiversity, we must ground our minds and spirits in the wisdom of the earth itself. 

Healing is a long journey, a patient’s work of bio-regeneration and restoration. Returning Indigenous plants to their homes and honouring their relationships is a practice of humility. It calls us to be kin, caretakers, and students of the land’s memory. 

Only then can we fully step into our role as stewards of the soil, the plants, and the possibilities for generations yet to come. 

 

Blog by Rye Karonhiowanen Barberstock

(Image Credit: Erone Stuff, Unsplash)

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Healing the Land, Healing Ourselves: Climate Grief and Indigenous Ceremonial Practices

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Climate change is not only a physical or scientific crisis but also a spiritual and emotional one. As forests burn, waters rise, and species vanish, people around the world are experiencing a deep, often overwhelming sorrow known as climate grief. For Indigenous Peoples, this grief is profoundly layered. It is grief for the land, for sacred places lost or polluted, for ancestral foods no longer harvested, and for cultural practices threatened by environmental destruction.

Yet in the face of this grief, Indigenous communities are turning to ceremony, not as a retreat from reality, but as a powerful form of response, resistance, and renewal. Ceremony offers a space for collective mourning, connection to ancestors and land, and healing across generations.

What Is Climate Grief in Indigenous Contexts?

Climate grief among Indigenous Peoples often encompasses:

  • The disappearance of animal relatives and medicinal plants is integral to cultural identity.
  • The loss of seasonal rhythms that guide ceremony, harvesting, and kinship practices.
  • The disruption of sacred responsibilities to care for water, land, and future generations.
  • The emotional toll of witnessing ongoing ecological injustice tied to colonialism and extractive industry.

This grief is not abstract—it is experienced viscerally and communally, and it is inseparable from histories of land dispossession, forced relocation, and cultural suppression.

But where colonial systems pathologize grief, Indigenous knowledge systems validate and honour it. Grief is a necessary process that can reconnect us to responsibilities, reawaken our relationships with the land, and inspire transformative action.

Ceremony as Climate Healing

Across Turtle Island, Indigenous-led ceremonies are emerging—or re-emerging—as sacred responses to ecological loss and planetary crisis. These ceremonies do not attempt to “fix” grief or offer quick closure. Instead, they create sacred space to sit with the pain, acknowledge intergenerational trauma, and begin the process of relational repair with Mother Earth.

Some powerful examples include:

  • Grassroots Indigenous communities across the Great Lakes, Prairies, and West Coast organize land-based grieving circles. These gatherings often involve fire keeping, songs, and shared storytelling, honouring ecological loss and cultural resurgence.
  • Fasting ceremonies, long used for spiritual clarity and prayer, are now undertaken by youth and Elders alike in response to climate emergencies, including pipeline resistance, biodiversity loss, and drought. These fasts are often held on the land and accompanied by teachings, songs, and tobacco offerings.

Healing as Collective and Relational

Indigenous ceremonial responses to climate grief are profoundly relational. They are not individual acts of self-care, but collective acts of care for land, ancestors, and future generations. They reassert Indigenous sovereignty by centring traditional governance, gender roles, and spiritual protocols, while inviting emotional honesty and humility into spaces of climate discourse often dominated by technical language.

Recommendations for Readers

  1. Support Indigenous-Led Healing Events and Ceremonies
  1. Attend public ceremonies where invited, donate to ceremony organizers, and share their events. Respect protocols and follow the lead of Indigenous organizers—these are sacred spaces, not spectacles.
  1. Create Space for Grief in Your Climate Work
  1. Make room for emotional truth in your activism. Whether through storytelling, group reflection, or spiritual practice, recognize grief as a valid and necessary part of climate justice.
  1. Read Indigenous Voices on Climate and Loss
  1. Works like All Our Relations by Tanya Talaga explore the intersections of grief, cultural resurgence, and land-based healing. Reading Indigenous authors is one way to understand the emotional dimensions of climate change from lived experience.
  1. Practice Relational Accountability
  1. Ask yourself: Whose land am I on? What ceremonies have been practiced here? What responsibilities do I hold to this place and its people? Learning and acting from this position of relationship helps turn grief into grounded action.

Blog by Rye Karonhiowanen Barberstock

(Image Credit: Patrick Hendry, Unsplash)

 

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