How might one become indigenous? I don’t mean that we can, or should, replace the indigenous people who are already living here. I am utterly uninterested in red-face. I am interested in sinking roots down into the dirt and offering my grandchildren’s grandchildren a chance to be indigenous. We need to become part of the world we live in. That has to start somewhere – why not me? Why not you? Why not now?

People have always migrated. Either your ancestors weren’t born on the piece of land you inhabit, or you weren’t. But at some point, someone said, “this is where I stay”, and they built a life good enough that their kids said the same thing, their grandkids, and the generations to follow.

Migration and the modern tendency to move throughout a lifespan are not at all the same sort of thing. Migration is “I need to leave here, I will go there. I will not return”. Modern “starter-homes” and relocation packages don’t sink roots into the soil. They don’t think generationally, much less seven-generationally. The more that people follow the modern industrial ethos, the less likely they are to ever become indigenous.

What might it look like, to choose to become indigenous?

Think seven-generationally.

You’d want to take care of the land well enough that you’d be happy for your great-great grandchildren to drink the water, breathe the air, eat the food.

You’d want to build or steward resources so that those g’g’grandkids would be able to make the things they’d need to make. It feels nice and crunchy to say, “no mines” right up until you run out of shovels. (And it’s not right to foist sickness and dirt on other people’s g’g’kids). So, how do you do that and still have clean water and air and food? You’re going to want some industry. That’s a sit and think on it project. I don’t know the answer, but if we want to become indigenous, someone’s going to need to work that out.

Becoming indigenous, I’d want to build in abundance. I’d want to steward the land so it could feed many people, and wouldn’t take back-breaking labor to maintain the food. Not everyone will farm or make baskets, we’re going to want doctors and engineers and fire-fighters. I wouldn’t want to make my homestead perfect at the cost of my neighbor’s – because in five generations, we’ll likely have some g’g’g’kids in common.

Beauty is important. If my great-grandbabies are going to live somewhere, I want them to love it. I want them to glory in it. Industry is important – if my grandbabies can’t feed their kids, they’ll leave (just like my great-grandparents left Europe). There’s some things to sit and chew on, again. Why did our people leave? Why did I leave, or why do I want to leave? Why might I want to stay somewhere? How do we develop land-love?

And there’s a question for you… where do you want to be, when you sink your roots in deep? Where does your heart live? How long has your family lived where you live? Is that your place? Do you know where you belong?

I think it’s time we stopped thinking about our lives and the world we build around ourselves as temporary, as if our lives aren’t creating a future for our descendants. Regardless of how much thought we do – or don’t – put into future generations, they’ll follow us, and what we do now affects them.

So what kind of world do we want? That’s a question for you to answer. For me, I’d like to dig in deep, build wealth, abundance, and beauty that will outlive my memory. I’d like to become indigenous – or for my g’g’grandchildren to think of themselves that way.