Sometimes, Just Take the Message

As I was reading Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, a book gifted to me, I absorbed so much knowledge. I am not even close to being done with it, but new lessons emerge on each page. The book focuses on providing Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and teachings about plants, as stated on the cover, and it does just that. Many books offer advice on how to be better with your money, kinder, more goal-oriented, and so on. But what I love about this book is that it challenges culture. It challenges readers to expand their horizons beyond their everyday lives and the ways they’ve been conditioned to live.

Although I haven’t finished the book, there is something I feel has answered a question I’ve been trying to put into words but couldn’t quite grasp. After reading just a bit of this book, I think I now understand what I was thinking—and I have a clearer sense of the answer.

I love to write, and I truly love to learn. After graduating high school and having more time to develop myself, I realized how much I love these things. Looking back on my childhood, it makes sense. As a kid, I always wanted to be outside, always wanted to know more, was inspired by people changing the world, and wanted to do the same.

Recently, I’ve started putting my own words and messages out into the world, and it’s scary. It’s scary because I know I’m still learning, and not everything I say may be right. None of my messages are backed by a degree from Harvard—or from any degree, really. When people question my words, I get scared sometimes because I’m just sharing messages based on life experiences.

But this book, and the perspective of Indigenous wisdom it offers, helped me overcome that fear. I resonate with the knowledge shared, and while it’s backed by the author’s credentials, much of it stems from her storytelling and the sharing of Indigenous beliefs. These are people who were deeply connected to the physical world around them. The ideas of hope, kindness, gratitude, love, appreciation, reciprocity, and more all emerged from this deep connection. Over time, we’ve socially constructed these ideas, distancing them from the physical world—unlike Indigenous people, who learned them through it.

There are so many beautiful lessons and stories in this book that I think everyone should read it. But beyond what the stories taught me, the book itself opened my eyes to how to actually learn.

It seems that our society is so connected to one way of learning. Everyone lives a different life, but I’m referring to one way of learning. I used to attach myself to sharing messages about how we should live and what we should do. I tried to reflect on my own life to see if this way of sharing made sense. And I don’t think it does. I know so many genuine people who feel inspired by my words but wouldn’t choose the same path to learn the message as I did. We are all part of our own way of living, and as I look around, I see optimism and beauty in everyone and everything around me. I feel like I need to clarify that I try to write with optimism because I truly believe that many people are trying to change the culture.

So, what’s an alternative to sharing how we should live? This book creates so many beautiful messages that people can interpret in different ways through storytelling—specifically, the creation stories shared by Indigenous people. And now I must explain what I mean when I say people are often resistant to new ways and possibilities of learning.

Some people would argue that their creation beliefs don’t align with those of Indigenous tribes. Their religion has its own creation story, and so they close the book and refuse to listen to the message. This is what I mean: the white nuclear family, colonization culture, and society have historically been built on trying, often forcefully, to get people from different beliefs, cultures, and religions to adopt one singular way.

I came from a very small town where we weren’t taught much about other cultures, and I always felt mentally trapped and bored. Maybe that was why—I kept hearing the same things over and over, and nothing really expanded or challenged my way of thinking. Then, my junior year of high school, I had a history teacher who didn’t care about everyone’s opinions—he taught the facts. He was so educated and knowledgeable that he didn’t need to share opinions; he simply told the stories of history. He didn’t have fancy PowerPoints, just his knowledge and voice. And it was so powerful because he knew exactly what he was doing. Yes, I learned more history than I ever had before, instead of hearing the same stuff over and over. But I also learned the importance of knowledge and truly understanding something. That, I realized, would give me my voice and make me powerful. He taught me a new way of learning because he wasn’t afraid to do things differently, because he knew what he was saying. He had moments when aggression crept into his voice because he was so passionate about his knowledge. But the class didn’t judge him for that; we respected him because he was powerful and educated.

This book reminded me of that. If I want to continue sharing, I need to keep learning—through books and school, but also through my day-to-day interactions.

I want to share my story and message but also let others interpret their own messages from it. I want to be so deeply immersed in my education of the world around me that others can feel free to learn in their own way. I think that’s the power I’m searching for.

So many people would read the creation stories of Indigenous people shared in this book and maybe feel uncomfortable because they challenge the creation stories of their own cultures and religions. But I think that’s so healthy, and it needs to happen more. We should be able to question ourselves and still continue a conversation, debate, or reading, because a deeper message is found in exploring the entire thing. A deeper understanding comes from learning to finish a debate or argument, instead of running from it when questioned. Maybe we should just take the message.

Sometimes, just take the message.