Indigenous wellness, from my perspective as ts’ékui (a Dene woman) from Tthebatthıe Dënésułıné Nation (formerly known as Smith’s Landing First Nation) in Treaty 8 territory, cannot be easily defined or generalized. In fact, pairing “Indigenous” with “wellness” in a single term can feel limiting, as it risks simplifying something deeply personal, complex and relational.
Having been born and raised in amiskwaciwâskahikan (nêhiyawêwin/Cree—Edmonton) and currently residing in Treaty 6 territory, my understanding of wellness has evolved through my lived and learned experiences—professionally, personally and spiritually. For me, wellness is not something separate from my relationships to land, family, community or spirit. My wellness is bound up with my children, ancestors and the generations yet to come. It includes the lands I live on, the stories I carry and the truths I continue to uncover.
I’ve come to realize that wellness includes protecting and nurturing my spirit, especially as I navigate colonial systems, microaggressions and the invisible labour of constantly explaining my existence and values in spaces not designed for Indigenous Peoples and Knowledges. Over time, I noticed my spirit had been slowly worn down. The realization came not just from professional burnout or advocacy fatigue but from deeper disconnection. It became clear to me that I needed to protect my spirit and intentionally rebalance my being.
During a graduate studies class, Elder Calvin Cardinal (Saddle Lake Cree Nation) said that instead of a “healing journey,” we might think about “rebalancing,” a continual tending to the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual parts of ourselves. This teaching continues to resonate with me. It affirms what I have felt intuitively: that I had not been holding enough space for rebalancing.
One way I have reconnected is through fancy shawl powwow dancing. Each time I put on my shawl—its designs, colours and movement—my spirit is reflected, uplifted and protected. The beat of the drum and melody of the songs are much more than music or an auditory experience; they are the heartbeat of Mother Earth, a return to the rhythms I first knew in my mother’s womb. It renews and (re)awakens my dancing spirit. For me, dancing is not only ceremony—it is medicine.
Even when I’m not dancing, I carry the shawl with me. I imagine it across my back as a symbol of strength, identity and presence. I try to live in ways that reflect what I’ve learned in the powwow circle—preparing, sewing, beading and caring for all aspects of my being.
For me, Indigenous wellness includes ceremony, land, movement and kinship. While therapy and medicine have their place in my journey, I know that they are not enough on their own. What sustains me is spirit work—connecting to who I am, where I come from and the responsibilities I carry. Wellness, for me, is an act of resistance, renewal and deep relationality.
Point of reflection:
What is your “shawl”? What do you carry that protects and reflects who you are?
Recommended resource
Held by the Land: A Guide to Indigenous Plants for Wellness
Leigh Joseph
Available through the ATA library