Indigenous?

“On Mother Earth, we’re all struggling to understand: what does it mean to be indigenous to Earth?”

Woman Stands Shining (Pat McCabe)

The question quoted above piqued my curiosity and captured my mind almost like a koan. What does it mean to be indigenous to Earth?

As one who has changed homes many times—seventeen and counting—and now lives a life of frequent movement and travel, there’s no single landscape or lane or sea or city to which I feel indigenous. Even if there were, naming myself indigenous to any place in this country seems wrong for a couple of reasons. First, though I was born here, my ancestors arrived a mere 300 years ago or less. And second, it’s disrespectful to those who are truly indigenous, whose ancestors came here tens or hundreds of thousands of years ago.

Interestingly, the woman who asks the question quoted is a member of the Diné (Navaho) Nation, and she’s speaking in an interview to many non-native peoples. Her simple question grants indigenousness to all of us, as we all belong naturally to Mother Earth.

So I’ve been sitting with Woman Stands Shining’s simple query…and driving, walking, washing dishes, gardening, cleaning, drinking tea with it. 

What does it mean to be indigenous to Earth? 

It’s become my companion, loosely held in the heart. Like a nesting doll, it opens to other questions about honor, respect, relations. And I have no specific answers yet. My guess is I will have to live into the questions, to paraphrase Rilke, until the answers are reflected in my being like the sky rippling on river water in morning light.