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Using my new year's resolution to free my tree, and myself, from the bondage of
colonization | CBC News Loaded
Canada·First Person


USING MY NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION TO FREE MY TREE, AND MYSELF, FROM THE BONDAGE OF
COLONIZATION

When the light bulbs on Marina Commanda Westbrook’s pre-lit tree failed, she was
determined to toss it out in January. But she found some valuable lessons in her
Anishinaabe heritage that made her think otherwise.


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SOMEHOW, THE SPIRIT OF MY PRE-LIT TREE WAS MISSING

Marina Commanda Westbrook · For CBC First Person · Posted: Jan 11, 2023 4:00 AM
ET | Last Updated: 5 hours ago

When the light bulbs on Marina Commanda Westbrook’s pre-lit tree failed, she
came to a new year’s resolution. (Submitted by Marina Commanda Westbrook)

This First Person column is the experience of Marina Commanda Westbrook, an
Anishinaabekwe who lives in Ottawa. For more information about CBC's First
Person stories, please see the FAQ.

As I took the decorations off my artificial Christmas tree and put them away, I
found myself mulling over new year's resolutions. At this time of year, we are
called to reflect on life; how we can improve or be a better human in some way.
I've been inspired by this tradition, but lately it's been more about how I can
leave Mother Earth in a better place than I inherited it, like the one my
ancestors thrived in for millennia.

Four years ago, my daughter convinced me that we could enjoy the season much
longer with a pre-lit "pretend" tree. Honestly, as I'm sure others can relate,
I've vacuumed up tree needles in July, so ... the tree came home with us.

That first year, the tree shone in all its artificial, glowing glory. There were
about 500 lights on it, but I found myself still missing the spirit of my real
tree. I kept that to myself for the sake of a longer sparkling season.


COULDN'T THROW IT AWAY

Three Christmases later, the tree didn't seem so happy and neither did I. After
hours of trying to find the elusive bulb that was causing most of the lights to
not work, I caved. I strung new lights around it, added the decorations and
tried to overlook the unlit bulbs and wires for the season. The no-longer
pre-lit tree would have to sadly make its way to the curbside at the end of
season. 

But when it came time to toss, I just couldn't do it. In the past, I've tried to
do something meaningful with my new year resolutions. I've given up buying any
kind of plastic packaging. Admittedly, that was a big life adjustment, but with
some thought I replaced the plastic wrap, baggies and containers with wax paper,
glass containers and paper bags and I haven't looked back.

"What else can I do?" I pondered, as I took the decorations off my tree,
which was still tightly production-wrapped in wires and broken lights.
Admittedly, I felt it was such a waste that this otherwise decent tree's fate
was to lay in a landfill site for the next 500-plus years.

These trees carry a lot of weight — not just the decorations. The tradition
harkens back hundreds of years. And so, there's nothing wrong with this pretend
tree that tries so hard to fulfil its purpose, except the lights don't work and
the wires still bind the branches and weigh them down. 

Inspired by this thought, with coffee and scissors in hand, I started to remove
the broken lights.


Westbrook snipped off nearly 30 metres of wires and broken bulbs from her
pre-lit Christmas tree. (Submitted by Marina Commanda Westbrook)

Carefully handling each branch, I snipped away at the wires and started feeling
for this tree. With each snip and painstaking unwinding, I recognized that I was
releasing the tree from the bondage of appearance and glitter. Even as I thought
I got them all, a closer look showed wires that still refused to let go. In the
end, I was left with what I estimate to be 30 metres of wire and broken bulbs. 

This line of thought led me back to my childhood. Fifty years ago, our family
had a shiny, silver aluminum tree wound with lights that my dad carefully
checked and replaced, year after year. Even though the tree I'm attempting to
rescue is bigger and has far more lights, it doesn't compare to the memory of my
childhood one. I'm not sure what happened to that tree, but my guess is that
it's resting and forgotten in the earth somewhere.

How many other pretend pre-lit trees face the same fate? How many owners would
take the time to remove the bondage of wire and let the branches free? What do
they give back once their glittery lives end? 

Some may think that replacing a natural tree with a pretend one saves the
natural ones from an early unnatural death or is better for the environment;
however, the teachings of my family name have helped me to understand otherwise.


Westbrook leads a smudging ceremony during her son’s wedding in Washington state
amongst their mitig (tree) relatives. (Marina Commanda Westbrook)

As an Anishinaabekwe, I am most at home among my mitig (tree) relatives. So when
one is brought into my home, I feel like I'm welcoming family. I live by the
beliefs and values that I've been taught: that I have a relationship with
everything around me — the flying beings, the growing beings, the swimming
beings, the four-legged beings and the rooted beings. They are all my relatives
and without them, without their support, I would not be able to survive. So when
I welcome one into my home, it is as a relative whom I love, respect and
cherish.

The experience of freeing my pretend tree from the wire bondage that held it
made me reflect on this custom and has led to my new year's resolution: Instead
of buying another artificial tree pre-bound in the wires that have come to
represent to me the bonds of colonization, I will welcome my mitig relatives
into my home and dress them honourably and brightly.

My pre-colonization family name is Mkishinaatik, meaning "Rotten Wood." When I
first learned the meaning of my family name, I wondered, "Why was my family
known by this strange name that sounded so unpleasant?"

I carried this question for many years before a kind and knowledgeable Kokum
explained the importance of my name. My family became known as nurturers and
healers because, without the rotting wood, nothing would ever grow again. The
medicines given up by the wood as it returns to the earth allows the next
generation to flourish. I was filled with pride when I received this teaching
and I say "Chi miigwetch, Kokum" for this truth.

And so, I will put away my now unbound tree, branches relieved from their
burden and give it another season to honour its natural peers. But the time will
come when I will once again welcome my mitig relative home and dress her in the
memories of my family. Then I will celebrate her return to the earth after the
season of celebration and allow her the opportunity to give medicine to the
generations to come.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Do you have a similar experience to this First Person column? We want to hear
from you. Write to us at firstperson@cbc.ca.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Marina Commanda Westbrook

Freelance contributor

Marina Commanda Westbrook is Anishinaabekwe from Nipissing First Nation. She is
a blessed mother, professor of Indigenous studies, lifelong learner and lover of
her relatives — all the earthly beings.

CBC's Journalistic Standards and Practices|About CBC News
Corrections and clarifications|Submit a news tip|Report error



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