How Does The Land Shape Our Identity?

 I was in Churchill, Manitoba a few years ago on a family trip. It’s a small northern town on the shores of the Hudson’s Bay. The landscape is rough and rugged with exposed quartz and granite boulders and colourful wildflowers, moss, or lichen spotting its vastness or tucked into rocky crevices. While walking, I was struck by the patterns of yellow lichen that grows on the rock. It was like someone made the land their canvas for an abstract painting and took a paintbrush and splattered yellow paint all over it. I realized then, I have spent my life standing on land without thinking much about it. The land doesn’t just exist beneath us. It shapes our identity: how we live, what we eat, what we do, and what we value is a direct result of the place we call home. The beauty of the land is not in the individual features by themselves, but in the interconnected relationship between all living matter. Since lichen is made from a fungus and one or more algae, it illustrates that two individual species can co-exist in mutuality. In appearance, it seems that lichen is insignificant, but it plays an important ecological function. 

Lichen is incredibly resilient and slow growing. Over time it whittles away the rock that it clings to and slowly turns the rock to dust to create the first layer of soil for other plant life. It endures the harsh conditions of the north, the long cold winters, short growing summer season, the baking sun on the rock face, the bitter winds and temperatures. It doesn’t care in the least. It grows despite everything, slowly carving away the rock to create its own microenvironment. There on the rock, it has remained and renewed itself. After coming back to these old photos taken a few years ago, still the question remains for me: What can these plants that have propagated the land since time immemorial help us understand who we are in relation to it, and why does it matter? 

I found this quote that answers the second part of my question clearly, “"We cannot protect what we do not love, we cannot love what we do not know, and we cannot know what we do not see. Or hear. Or sense." Attributed to Richard Louv, author of The Nature Principle. Historically, through our settler/colonial worldview, we have dominated the land to try to control and tame its wildness while simultaneously taking it for granted and exploiting it for resource and profit. While resources are there in abundance for our use, the manner in which we sometimes harvest is greedy. There are some who have developed sustainable ecological practices, ranchers, conservationists, and businesses included, but for these practices and care to make sense, we must change our thinking. The answer is not to take less to avoid damage, but understanding what a good relationship requires of us and what our responsibilities are to the land itself. We are in relationship to the land. There is reciprocity in living with the land and not solely on it. Just as we care and love other people and the responsibilities that come with those bonds, we cannot just take and take and not give back. Our taking should be based in gratitude and appreciation for what it has offered by practicing stewardship for future generations to enjoy what we have enjoyed. The land should be revered. When we exploit, devastate, and objectify the land, we are doing violence against ourselves. We are not autonomous. We could not go a few minutes without taking a breath. The air we breathe is only made possible by the plant life we devastate. Like the warp and weft that brings together a tapestry, we and all living things are the thread that binds it together. As Robin Wall Kimmerer writes in Braiding Sweetgrass, “The trees act not as individuals, but somehow as a collective. Exactly how they do this, we don’t yet know. But what we see is the power of unity. What happens to one happens to us all. We can starve together or feast together. All flourishing is mutual.” 

The land plays a part in shaping our culture, values, and how we live. The land dictates our survival and how easy or hard that is. If there is plenty of water and trees, we use those resources for food and shelter. If you live on the prairies or in northern Canada in the winter, you need to dress warmly. At the same time, the land dictates what we do and how we spend our time. Farmers exist where tillable land is available and fishermen where there are large bodies of water. Industrial and manufacturing hubs are available where there are large ports for export. The land doesn’t only shape our practical choices, but what we consider valuable and beautiful. We stop noticing things when we become accustomed to them. Often considered boring because of their flatness, the prairies are actually quite beautiful, especially in late August early September, when the ripe yellow wheat fields are cast against the vast blue sky. What might be plain and lacks obvious majesty, forces one to look deeper into the soul of a place to uncover its beauty. Living on the prairie has taught me to seek appreciation in simplicity, routine, and wonder. To me, the open flat land symbolizes endless possibility, while at the same time can be humbling when you consider that we are just tiny specks in its beautiful and hostile vastness. 

When I think of prairie settlers and my Métis ancestors in particular, I wonder what it must have been like for these people to set up home here in Manitoba all those years ago. The conditions have not changed, and yet they lived and survived without all the modern standards we are now used to. The hostile conditions like hot summers and cold winters, living and trapping in the northern wilderness, heavy rains, ice, bitter driving winds and metres of snow have certainly left their imprint and contributed to our collective values. We are hardy, resilient people. We are steadfast and determined despite the odds against us. There were times in recent memory where we stood collectively. These values did not come from nowhere. They were shaped by generations before us who had to collectively stand together to survive the land and climate. The same land that cultivated determination and resilience also cultivated emotional restraint and self reliance. We endured and grew through difficulties, not because it was easy, but because we could not change our circumstances. European settlers did not simply walk into an empty landscape, but encountered Indigenous Peoples that already had intimate knowledge of the land long before settlers came to it. What I have learned from Indigenous knowledge systems is that Indigenous Peoples learned from the land, listened to the plants and animals and lived by the changing seasons in anticipation for what lay ahead and in doing so perhaps required a deep sense of interdependence with it. I can’t help but think that the land pulled these characteristics from the first settlers and my Métis ancestors and they have become embedded into our social fabric and culture. 

The land offers more than just capital and resources. It has shaped our perspectives and values for generations. We must pay it mutual respect and ensure there are enough resources for everyone present and in the future. When we fundamentally change our relationship to this land, we shift our perspectives from seeing it as only something we stand on to learning how to love it and to embrace its wildness and look deeply for its beauty. The land is our kin and our attempts to control and tame its wildness rather than live within its limits may just be our very undoing. 

Sources: 

• Book with Author

• Kimmerer, Robin Wall. Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants. Milkweed Editions, 2013.

• Louv, Richard. The Nature Principle: Reconnecting with Life in a Virtual Age. Algonquin Books, 2012.

• Online Article / Webpage

• Barberstock, Rye Karonhiowanen. "Indigenous Climate Indicators: Reading the Land Beyond Western Metrics." Indigenous Climate Hub, 1 July 2025, https://indigenousclimatehub.ca/.

• Bissett, Carol. "Learning From the Land: Indigenous Stories and Resources That Invite Us Outside." 8 June 2026.

• "How Long Does It Take for Lichen to Grow?" Biology Insights, 24 Aug. 2025, https://biologyinsights.com/how-long-does-lichen-take-to-grow/.

• Walia, Harsha. "'Land Is a Relationship': In Conversation with Glen Coulthard on Indigenous Nationhood." rabble.ca, 20 Jan. 2015, https://rabble.ca/.

In-Text Quote Citations (Page Numbers)

• Louv Quote (p. 23 / The Nature Principle):
  “We cannot protect what we do not love, we cannot love what we do not know, and we cannot know what we do not see. Or hear. Or sense.” (Louv, 2012, p. 23)

• Kimmerer Quote (p. 15):
  “The trees act not as individuals, but somehow as a collective. Exactly how they do this, we don’t yet know. But what we see is the power of unity. What happens to one happens to us all. We can starve together or feast together. All flourishing is mutual.” (Kimmerer, 2013, p. 15)

• Kimmerer Quote (pp. 20–21):
  “Our taking returns benefit to them in the circle of life making life, the chain of reciprocity. Living by the precepts of the Honourable Harvest—to take only what is given, to use it well, to be grateful for the gift, and to reciprocate the gift—is easy in a pecan grove. We reciprocate the gift by taking care of the grove, protecting it from harm, planting seeds so that new groves will shade the prairie and feed the squirrels.” (Kimmerer, 2013, pp. 20–21)

• Barberstock Quote:
  “These Indigenous climate indicators are not just data points—they are stories, teachings, and warnings, passed down through time and rooted in the interdependence of human and ecological systems...” (Barberstock, 2025)

• Bissett Quote:
  “For countless generations, Indigenous Peoples have learned with and from the land. Indigenous knowledge systems recognize the land as a teacher and emphasize relationships, reciprocity, observation, responsibility, and respect.” (Bissett, 2026)