Our Partnership with Nature
This past June I had the distinct pleasure of visiting the high Canadian Arctic. Baffin Island from Iqaluit in the south to Pond Inlet in the north. I traveled with some like-minded friends who have been working through the Rideau Hall Foundation. The purpose of the trip was to gain a better understanding of the challenges the people of Nunavut face and the opportunities that they have to help themselves enjoy a more prosperous life. RHF supports the Inuit through a variety of programs, most of which are controlled and operated by the Inuit themselves.
While we intended to listen and learn in our mutual efforts to help, the learning turned into their helping us. Interesting how these things turn out sometimes, no?
Mostly they helped us understand their culture and history. The more we learned the more we realised how little we Southerners know about life in the Canadian Arctic.
It felt odd to travel over 3,000 Km. straight north: about twice the distance from our home in Markham to Tampa Florida.
First, the image of the landscape is a mind-bender. Tundra. Ice and snow as far as the eye can see from 30,000 feet in an airplane. And of course, no trees.
Had you shown me a picture of this landscape before I left, I would have said that it looked barren, unfriendly, and outright hostile. With the good fortune to have met several dozen Inuit, I have a clearer understanding of what THEY see when they look at this landscape. In a word, they see “home”.
It is the place where they feel most comfortable, and they yearn to be “on the land”. I can’t tell you how many times I heard these words in the 9 days that we were there.
Managing the Gap
There is undeniably a gap between Inuit culture and “southern” culture in Canada. For instance, I learned that there is no word in their native language of Inuktitut for money.
But they have over 60 words for snow and more than 600 descriptions of ice, according to one of our hosts. Priorities.
The idea of owning land, as we do in the “south” is foreign to Inuit culture. The land beneath the houses in Iqaluit, for example, does not belong to the owner of the house. You can buy a house that is priced in the same range as most southern Canadian cities, without the frills, like running water, municipal sewage, and gas to power your furnace or to cook. All of this is brought in as needed by truck, except the sewage, which of course is taken out. And the real estate beneath each home? It belongs to the people of Nunavut and is on a long-term lease to the homeowners.
The native landscape may appear cold and hostile to a southerner but for the people that we met who live there (and who love Nunavut: non-Inuit and Inuit alike), the land is a place of comfort and sustenance. Comfort when you know how to dress for it (with little or no regard for fashion statements) and sustenance when you hop on a snowmobile and go hunting for seal, polar bear, or caribou. Or ice fishing for Artic Char, as we did one Sunday.
All of these “outdoor” activities are real for the Canadians who live in the far north. Translated, their experience out of doors is their experience of ‘home’. Life is lived on the land: the house is just that, a place to get warm and for families to gather.
I learned that their love and respect for nature is extraordinary. In traditional Inuit teaching, they hold the raven, char, and polar bear above themselves. That is, humans are not superior to nature, but an integral part of it, with an obligation to care for it for future generations.
I reflect on my love of gardening, for trees and I believe that the Inuit and us gardeners are not all that different in this regard: Nature is our partner in creating a better world. We look out for and protect her; she responds in kind.
We don’t need masses of flowering pollinator plants or giant trees to remind us that we live in a world dominated by nature: rocks, snow, and ice are equally a part of the whole.
What do you see when you look out into your backyard or condo/apartment balcony?
What do you imagine?
When you walk down the street in your neighbourhood, is it tree-lined, a giant canopy of green meeting in the middle, well above your head? Or can you imagine it being that way someday? That’s what Trees for Life sees.
The benefits of urban trees to humankind are many: health, economic, and environmental benefits accrue to urban dwellers whose forebearers thought enough to plant trees years ago.
We plant trees not for ourselves but for our grandchildren. And their grandchildren.
This month Trees for Life invites you to join us for public tree planting events, it’s been three years (thank you COVID), but they’re back. The Trees for Life team and our partners look forward to seeing you and planting by your side, as together we slowly transform our urban landscape into one that is healthy and green. One tree and one community at a time.
Like the Inuit, perhaps our appreciation for our partnership with nature will be enhanced as a result.
The entire Trees for Life team is thankful for you, our amazing supporters. It is because of you that we are now over 1/3 of the way to reaching our new three-year fundraising goal of $6 million from the private sector, with just over $2.2 million in commitments secured since the start of 2023. As you begin to think about your possible year-end charitable giving activities, please consider Trees for Life. We have managed to generate some incredible results and multiply the impact of every dollar donated – as much as four times – but we still have a lot more we can and WILL do with your help. Visit treesforlife.ca today to donate.
We are passionate and honoured to do this work, and so grateful that you support us.
Wishing you all a wonderful Thanksgiving.
Mark
Mark Cullen
Volunteer Board President, Canadian Trees For Life
www.treesforlife.ca