The Place Where My Spirit Breathes

Posted on by Joi T. Arcand

maskéko-sákahikanihk.

This summer, I took a four day intensive néhiyawéwin class. I’m learning my language, slowly. This class was the beginning of a commitment to push myself further towards this goal.

I live in Ottawa now, but I’m a prairie girl through and through. Going back home is a necessity in staying grounded and connected to what calms my soul. The language is in the land, in the vast prairie skies, the water. nipiy. my veins.

Don’t bother writing the words down. Just listen. You’ll remember.

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péyak. níso. nisto.

I’m in kindergarten, my favourite class is Cree class. We learn numbers, greetings, animals. Those words come flooding back in my memory.

I’m grateful to the educators that provided us with the opportunity to be exposed to our language and culture.

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Thirty years later, the class is full of eager students willing to learn néhiyawéwin. The instructors are passionate about passing on the language. It’s a beautiful and safe environment to learn and make mistakes.

Living thousands of kilometers away from my home, I have to make an effort to practice and hear the language, so I don’t forget again.

When discussing the struggles I’m having with this distance, one of my classmates told me that home is “the place where your spirit breathes”. He was right.

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148 thoughts on “The Place Where My Spirit Breathes”

  10. I just now viewed this article. The photos in this and some others are beautiful. I spent most of my life in Florida and loved the peace and quiet of the Everglades. After trying several times to read Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s 100 Years of Solitude, I had to quit. He said somewhere in the book that home is where you bury your dead. I accepted that for a long time but now believe home is where your family lives. At this point in my life that is where my spirit breathes. Beautiful photos and words. Thank you.

    Liked by 6 people

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