I’ve been thinking about the word “influence” and how much it has taken on a different cast, since the rise of social media. It’s become a kind of commodity, a thing people covet, and that they use, when they have it, to get other people to covet things. (Oh capitalism, you really are a strange poison.) When I unearth another way of thinking about influence, I think about all us humans being made of a kind of soft clay… we’re so easily impressed on, everyone we encounter has the power to leave a mark, an indent, a fingerprint…. has the power to really distort and reshape us, by harming or threatening us, or forcing us into a shape that isn’t ours. Wielding our influence wisely means remembering people are soft and malleable, even if they seem hard and prickly. And trusting that our interactions all have an impact, even if there’s no apparent evidence, not like button or affirmation. So we can just surrender to our intentions and stop seeking gratification/results.
Lisa Sambo and I have had conversations over the last few years that are shaping me and the way I think and how I want to be in the world. Her playful heartfelt courageous anxiety-bringing work wanting to revitalize her language in her life and community has been particularly inspiring to me. And because one aspect of her delightful way of being in the world, is that she will send the occasional note about a Wellness Almanac post, saying, “I liked that one”, or “this made me think about x y z”, I get a little hint every now and then that I’m sometimes providing a little something that touches her. It’s not really influence, because no one is trying to affect or alter the behaviour of the other… it’s more a kind of ongoing conversation with mud splatters. I shared this book of Jess Housty’s poetry with Lisa, because I thought it would resonate with her. She accepted the open invitation to read a poem for our Secret Association of Poetry Appreciator’s project, and happened to choose one from that collection. Back and forth, so many fingerprints. So wild to think about how powerfully shaped we are by the beings we love. How much more precious that is, than a bunch of instagram followers wanting to buy a lipstick because you mentioned it.
Here, Lisa Sambo reads Dirt Prayer, by Jess Housty.
Dirt Prayer
What does it mean to feel grounded?
Imagine tender roots forming,
stretching their small hands o utward
for nourishment.
How do the parts of you
that are in contact with the earth
form attachment to place?
What do you gain from this attachment?
Imagine blunt roots, grown roots,
reaching outward from your palms
as they meet this holy ground
(all ground is holy).
How is it you’ve become unshakeable?
Impervious to wind and weather?
It is borrowed strength, friend.
The soil is our mother;
hold your body against hers
when you need comfort.
The soil is our mother;
she unifies us in our communal need
to be held, to be strengthened by roots,
to be rooted in strength.
Jess Housty (’Cúagilákv (Jess H̓áust̓i))is a Haíɫzaqv parent, poet, and land-based educator living in her homelands and the community of Bella Bella, BC. They are the author of the poetry collection Crushed Mint.
At the end of her reading, you’ll hear Lisa say, hu7malh. In Ucwalmícwts, this means goodbye!
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