For Indigenous peoples, this is known as the time of prophecies—the Seventh Fire, the time of a new world being born. It is a time of transition. Indeed, Indigenous peoples have seen many changes. Sometimes we are referred to as post-apocalyptic. We remember what was before and we see what is now. It is in this spirit that we recognize it is always good to be thankful.

Thanksgiving in the American way summons up too many colonists and pilgrims for most of us to stomach, but thanksgiving as an action in time and an ongoing way of life is profoundly healing.

The Iroquois, or Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Prayer is beautiful, and often quite long, in that the prayer thanks all the beings for their part in the circle of life. That seems appropriate since we rely upon the Natural world for our life. That may well surprise the world of artificial intelligence, but it is fundamentally true. We live on Mother Earth. For that we are Thankful.

One translation of the thousand-year-old prayer begins:

Today we have gathered, and we see that the cycles of life continue. We have been given the duty to live in balance and harmony with each other and all living things. So now, we bring our minds together as one as we give greetings and thanks to each other as people. Now our minds are one.

The prayer then addresses the great beings of this world, giving thanks for each one.

The Earth Mother

We are all thankful to our Mother, the Earth, for she gives us all that we need for life. She supports our feet as we walk about upon her. It gives us joy that she continues to care for us as she has from the beginning of time. To our mother, we send greetings and thanks. Now our minds are one.

The Waters

We give thanks to all the waters of the world for quenching our thirst and providing us with strength. Water is life. We know its power in many forms—waterfalls and rain, mists and streams, rivers and oceans. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the spirit of Water. Now our minds are one.

The Fish

We turn our minds to the all the Fish life in the water. They were instructed to cleanse and purify the water. They also give themselves to us as food. We are grateful that we can still find pure water. So, we turn now to the Fish and send our greetings and thanks.

Now our minds are one.

This prayer continues for many stanzas, and is delivered not only on Thanksgiving Day, but at many feasts and gatherings, because gratitude is a basic principle of life, and of sustainability. So is relationship. Thanksgiving is an action of gratitude, and that reciprocity reaffirms relationship as the core principle of life.

An Indigenous ethic often marveled at by anthropologists is Indinawaymuganidoog or “we are all related.” That’s Anishinaabemowin, my Mother language. The Anishinaabe, the Haudenausaunee and other Indigenous peoples understand that humans are a part of the natural world, not separate from or in charge of it. This is the “web of life.” In an Indigenous worldview, instead of the dominion of humans we see a dominion of Mother Earth. And to her we offer gratitude.

Indigenous teachings also reaffirm reciprocity. That is, you offer thanks for what you take, you take only what you need, and you leave the rest to others. That way other relatives can also eat, and something always remains for the future.

Those teachings are pretty counter to the rights-based entitlement of this society. In practice that seems to be, “If I can get away with it, I will do it. I will take for me, and now.” That translates to: I will throw stuff in the woods. I will dump waste in the river. I will leave a big mess, just so I can get away with it. That is a really immature way, certainly the Donald Trump way.

The depth of this entitlement is continental. We are an entitled bunch. We consume a third of the world’s resources, and we throw most of it away within a year. That’s to say, a lot of us feel entitled to a cell phone, and plenty of access to getting our nails done. And a lot of folks don’t care to work more than they need to, often trying just to get by, walking away before the job is even done.

Entitlement is the opposite of gratitude. And it’s not a long game plan. Indeed, I have a right to do many things, but I have the restraint and respect to not do those things.

In these times of crashing biodiversity, I am thankful for the dams that have gone down on the Klamath River and the return of the salmon. I am thankful for people who show kindness, compassion and love. Indeed, I am thankful every day.

November is Native American Heritage Month, sort of like the one month America is supposed to think about Native people, crammed between Halloween (which until recently would often be full of youngsters dressed as Pocahontas) and Thanksgiving. This is it, this is our month to be remembered. When writing, in this time, I always try and get in as much as I can.

I’m thankful for the lands which have been returned to our people this year: the Shell Mounds in Berkeley, California, along with Indian Island in Eureka, California.

I’m thankful that the Dakota had some of their sacred land returned to them, and I’m thankful that I heard our ceremonial drums sound for the first time in 50 years in my village. I’m thankful that our language is heard and understood. And I am thankful for the corn harvests we have from our lands, ancient corn which survived so long.

And I am thankful for my mother who is still here with us, at almost 92 years of age.

I think often of what Onondaga leader Oren Lyons tells us: “The Creator’s law is the highest law, higher than the laws of nations, states, or municipalities.”

What does that mean? He is saying that just because we have a right under man’s laws, does not mean that we have that right under the Creator’s law. What better way to express the reality of climate change.

As we look at a political and industrial world that seems to have moved onto a worse track and is accelerating toward destruction, I am grateful for the Thanksgiving prayer. I am of the thought that we should be thankful daily and bring our minds together to be one as our Mother Earth is one.

Winona LaDuke

Winona LaDuke is Anishinaabe, a writer, an economist, a hemp farmer and a Barn Raiser Contributing Editor. LaDuke is a leader in cultural-based sustainable development strategies, renewable energy, sustainable food systems and Indigenous rights. She is a co-curator at the Giiwedinong Treaty Rights and Culture Museum in Park Rapids, Minnesota, and owner of Winona's Hemp.