Conclusion

It is now the early part of the summer of 1998.  After spending so much time writing, I can feel in my heart that I have said everything I know about Anishinaabe philosophy.   Yet, it remains my intention to continue learning the philosophy of the Anishinaabeg and I am firm in my belief that it must be recognized as one of the great philosophies of the world.  However, the comprehensive document that I had envisioned early on as I first sat down to write these words does not yet exist.  This is, perhaps, only a first step towards that goal.

In the Introduction I wrote that Anishinaabe conceptions of reality still remain true to the Original Instructions of Gzhe-mnidoo and the traditions that have been passed down through countless generations.  Now that I have finished my work I realize how true this statement actually is.  New generations of Anishinaabeg are gradually beginning to discuss their traditions in a new way, in the written form and in the English language; but, the core of those Teachings is unchangeable, eternal and sacred.  I may have thought that I was re-inventing the wheel when I decided to write about something that had never been written before, but I now realize that I have only spoken about concepts and ideas as countless others have done before me.  The fact that I have discussed some of these ideas makes no difference to the traditions of my ancestors.  I have a keen awareness, as I re-read what I have written, that I am connected to a line of knowledge that is older than time itself.  I am fortunate that I have been able to learn some of this Way of a Good Life.

The long-standing conversation concerning the writing of Anishinaabe philosophy goes on.  I asked myself many times if I was doing the right thing by writing this book.  I was made aware, early in my work, of the serious limitations to revealing ‘sacred’ knowledge and even the personal learning I have done in my life.  As a rule, the Teachings that remain part of the oral ceremonial traditions upon which I base this work were not made available here, since I was taught that people cannot possibly ‘feel’ the power of these Teachings from these pages written in English.  My Teachers have impressed on me that it is essential that these Teachings be experienced through the traditional Ceremonies in the original language of the Anishinaabeg.  Again, the context and protocol of the place and time that the Teachings are given, who gives the Teaching, as well as the ceremonial presence of the Spirit of these Teachings ensures that they never become static in presentation and meaning.

The fact that Anishinaabe philosophy is based on a system of interconnection forced me to disconnect various concepts and ideas from the whole so that I could examine them.  I struggled long and hard with the structural organization of this work.  This was the greatest difficulty I faced in writing this book.  I felt that if I did not discuss the concepts in a certain way, in a certain order, it would be akin to pulling a piece of yarn in a sweater and having the whole thing come unravelled in my hands.

I think that the categorizations and structures that I have developed in this work fulfil many of the necessary needs of academia.  Now that I look back on what I have written, I realize that it is far more academic than I had originally thought it would be.  I know, from conversations with Elders and traditional Teachers, that the organization of this book is far from being traditional in nature.  In academic thinking, the categorizations made here may make sense but for those most knowledgeable of Anishinaabe traditions, this work has a curious structure since it divides and separates ideas and concepts that are fundamentally interconnected.  After reading the first draft of this book a friend said, “I wonder what would have been the response of my great-grandfather to such categorization.”[1]

As I noted earlier, the sensing of my ‘self’ and my cultural intuition are what led me to develop a different method of investigation.  I have used a method of learning and sharing based on recognized Anishinaabe protocols.  The use of “Applied Anishinaabe Theory” as the foundation of my “Primary Experiential Knowledge” method has allowed me to investigate this process-oriented philosophy; discussing various facets of Anishinaabe culture, history, metaphysics, ontology, epistemology, axiology, aesthetics and identity that I felt were key to the understanding I have of Mino-Bimaadiziwin.  Since Anishinaabe philosophy is based on a fundamental way of knowing, a fundamental epistemology, any non-qualitative method would have rendered this study invalid by the very nature of what I was studying.  As I stated previously, in the case of my research dealing with the Way of a Good Life, knowledge and identity, my method not only develops the necessary structures for this investigation, but also provides a degree of self-revelation about me as an individual. 

Now that my research, process of reflection and writing is over, I realize how great the degree of self-revelation has been.  The knowledge that I wrote of in this book continues to have a profound impact on me.  It is a knowledge that is not only about me — but is me.  It is my whole identity, all my thoughts, dreams, wishes and goals.  In essence, it is what motivates and defines my life.  The unbroken line of knowledge that I referred to is all of this — an unbroken line of feelings which I am ‘plugged into’.  When I first felt this reconnection on hearing the drum at the Sweat Lodge Ceremony, all I could do was cry.  That is the feeling in the knowledge that I am reconnected with. 

It is true that any study of any philosophy will provide a significant degree of self-exploration and revelation, but the nature of the knowledge that I have attempted to examine here is different.  This knowledge represents the means of achieving the deepest form of subjective understanding there is, since the method of Primary Experiential Knowledge that I use allows me to discover objective truths through a necessarily inter-subjective method of inquiry and analysis explicitly characteristic of Anishinaabe protocols.  Again, since it is not possible for me to separate myself from the world, particularly the knowledge of that world, I have used a qualitative methodological inquiry based on a blending of participant observation and participant participation that incorporates and recognizes my thoughts, experiences, reflections, emotions, and spirituality in my personal life.

I return to my traditional Teachers, once-in-a-while like Elder Louis Crier suggested, showing them the moose that I have found.  As it turns out, there is a vast herd of moose out there and I know there is not enough time in my life to find them all.  I must, I think, decide which moose to pursue.  Many of us may pursue the same one and then be able to share that knowledge with others.  And others may help by saying, “If you go that way you won’t find a moose.  But, if you go that way, you will.”[2]  And still others may choose to pursue very rare moose, perhaps only seen once or twice in a generation.  Ultimately, there are far too many moose for me to follow, let alone the enormous amount of time and energy it takes to pursue just one.  If I am not careful in my pursuit, I may forever walk in circles.  Interestingly, that is what the Anishinaabe word for the hunt — giiwosewin — actually means.  Quite simply, I need to pick my moose and follow him or her very closely and learn that path of knowledge.  I am very fortunate that each moose I do meet takes the time to teach me everything he or she knows.  These never-ending gifts allow me to better understand Mino-Bimaadiziwin.