I’m proud of my Canadian heritage, especially the Algonquian culture my maternal grandparents taught me at a young age. My grandfather brought me into the woods so I could learn about medicinal herbs and make ointments and liniments, although he never shared his syrup formulas, which I know he made with tree barks.

My grandmother could reduce the swelling of bee or wasp stings with a dried pea. She’d circle the pea around the affected area while whispering an old Algonquian prayer. Her voice was so low that I could never make out the words, and when I asked her about it, she only smiled. I even asked my mother, who said her mom never told her either. One of my grandmother’s sisters told me that the prayer would lose its healing power if my grandmother shared it. But now that healing prayer died with both of them, which is a pity.

In their memory, I perform a smudging ritual to honor my heritage, culture, and everything they taught me.