19/07/2025
Long ago, in the time when animals still spoke and the stars still walked the earth, the people were losing their way.
The balance between the land and the heart had grown weak. The rivers still flowed, and the sun still rose, but people had forgotten how to listen. They forgot how to be gentle with the earth, and even gentler with each other.
And so, the world grew quiet.
No songs.
No laughter.
No prayers rising with the morning smoke.
The animals met in council.
Eagle said, “The people need something to remember who they are.”
Bear rumbled, “It must be strong, but soft.”
Wolf added, “It must come from the land — but carry the spirit.”
And Grandmother Turtle whispered, “It must teach love.”
Then a small voice spoke — one no one expected.
It was the voice of the Earth herself.
She said:
“I will give them a gift. A grass that braids together the teachings they’ve forgotten. It will grow wherever there is love, wherever there is water, wherever there are stories still being told.”
And from that promise, Wîhkask, Sweetgrass, began to grow.
At first, only the children noticed it — thin green blades curling at the edges of the lakes, shining softly in the light like the hair of a kind kokum.
One little girl named Nîpîsîs saw it growing near her village and asked her grandmother,
“Can I pick it?”
Her kokum knelt beside her.
“Not yet,” she said. “First, we thank it. First, we listen.”
And so they sang to the grass.
They told it who they were.
They gave to***co.
They bent low and picked only a little — never all.
They braided it gently, like hair, with care and kindness in their fingers.
When they brought it home, the whole lodge smelled sweet — like the breath of the land itself.
That night, the people dreamed of old songs.
They saw their ancestors smiling.
They remembered how to walk in a good way.
From then on, Sweetgrass became a sacred helper.
The Elders say it carries the spirit of kindness.
It is one of the first plants to grow after a fire, and one of the last scents we offer to the sky when someone passes on.
It reminds us:
To be soft, but strong.
To bend, but not break.
To carry beauty… and healing… and memory.
And to this day, when Sweetgrass is braided and the smoke rises like a prayer, the Earth smiles quietly…
…because she knows her gift was never forgotten.
—Kanipawit Maskwa
John Gonzalez
Standing Bear Network
