Header photo: kelsie kilawna, MakeWays new Senior Associate of Storytelling for the Indigenous Watersheds Initative and B.C. Programs, brings to us teachings of the practice of mindfulness through food preparation. Graphics by Lauren Marchand
way’ xast xusalt relatives,
It’s National Indigenous Peoples Day and I thought I’d introduce myself to the MakeWay community by sharing some of my teachings from syilx homelands in what has very briefly been known as the “Okanagan.” As the new Senior Associate of Storytelling, for the Indigenous Watersheds Initiative and B.C. Programs, I figured what better way to introduce myself than through storytelling.
So today, let’s talk about teachings of mindfulness.
Growing up, I was enveloped by an intergenerational community that nurtured me, allowing me to embrace knowledge beyond the confines of my immediate family.
My summers were spent with my grandmothers, uncles, and aunts, traversing both sides of the colonial border. Days overflowed with purpose as we sewed, gathered berries, harvested plant medicines, weaved, and left our artistic marks on the land, all the while babysitting, swimming, working in the fields, and running amuck with our cousins at PowWows and stampedes.
Every moment was a chance to learn and grow. Recently, during a ceremony, I was reminded of a teaching transferred to me by my great-grandma—a lesson in infusing love and good intentions into food preparation. My grandma was always in the kitchen, preparing meals for everyone who would come by, and my sister and I eagerly joined in, engaging in a continuous exchange of knowledge through laughter and storytelling.
Through the wisdom of my great-grandma, I discovered the essence of what it meant to host people as a sqilx’w. It was about more than mere servitude; it was a thoughtful and deliberate demonstration of love. She instilled in us the value of giving our utmost to others, without hesitation. When guests arrived, we offered our beds, and then we would get into the kitchen, cooking up beautiful meals to honour their presence and the journey they took to be with us. And when they departed, we prepared another feast, mindful that you never know when you could be giving someone their last meal.
Now, whenever I have the opportunity to show intentional love, I do so with profound mindfulness. We were taught to prepare food for others only when with happiness in our hearts and inner peace. We respected the protocols, refraining from engaging in food preparation during our personal ceremonies or when on our Moontime (menstruating), as those were moments reserved for our own caretaking.
These teachings and protocols served as constant reminders of the energy we transferred through the food we made. Truly, these energy transfers were our prayers in action. If the cook was having feelings of anger or negativity, those they served might experience physical discomfort, unease, or anxiety after consuming the food. This understanding formed the basis for the compassionate protocols surrounding funeral feasts, where grieving families are relieved of the burden of cooking. It is another family that steps forward, preparing a feast that honours the departed, demonstrating their support for the grieving by providing sustenance for both body and spirit, and to honour all those who travelled to be there.
I am also reminded of a teaching that speaks to the energy exchange when walking on concrete. We are urged to choose the grass whenever possible, because we believe it serves as a conduit to the lands lifegiving power. Concrete, with its underlying pain and strain from the labourers who laid it, can bring discomfort and body aches when stood on for too long. Our teachings have always centered on the transfer of energy, underscoring the significance of our connections with the natural world.
So when I prepare food, I do so with love. I infuse the process with stories, laughter, and song, knowing that this positive energy will permeate the food, bringing joy to those I’m honoured to serve.
At gatherings, when prayers are offered over the food, you will undoubtedly hear invocations for the cooks and the gatherers. Everyone present honours the intentionality and discipline required to express love through food. In many ways, food preparation itself becomes a sacred ceremony.
Even the plating of food carries meaning. Each dish should be presented with the same meticulous attention we would desire for ourselves. When we devote ourselves to such detail, those you serve cannot help but notice. Through food, we communicate that they are honoured and cherished, pouring worthiness of beauty into their very being.
This deliberate transfer of love and care is not exclusive to food preparation; it encompasses every facet of our lives. Whether I am writing a story, fishing, hunting, or harvesting, I approach each endeavor with unwavering intention, upholding sacredness and protocol at every step.
To my dear cousins, I extend an invitation to embark on your own journey of culinary creation today. Craft a beautiful meal for yourself or your loved ones or use your hands to create a thoughtful gift for someone in need of uplifting. Remember, it is not solely about the final product but also the transformative process that takes place within you and the energetic connection you forge with others.
With all the love you need,
kelsie
