The Forest We Leave Behind

Five years ago, when I started Culturally Committed, for reasons I no longer recall, something compelled me to begin a weekly “newsletter.” I called it Teachings Tuesday.

After writing that very first edition, I remember asking my friend Ashley to proofread it. I was terrified to share it — filled with anxiety about sending my words out into the world. I needn’t have been so scared. There were 33 people on our mailing list at the time, and they were all friends or family.

I'll link it here, if you'd like a giggle. 

As time has passed, miraculously, we’ve kept the cadence of this weekly email. There have been many days I’ve asked myself, what on earth am I going to share this week? And more times than I’d like to admit, I’ve found myself automating emails at 11pm, just eight hours before they've landed in your inbox.

What I didn’t understand back then was that Teachings Tuesday was never meant to be a newsletter.

It became a practice. A rhythm. A commitment to reflection.

A space where I could learn out loud, and where we could grow together.

Over the years, these Tuesdays have held stories, teachings, questions, mistakes, growth, vulnerability, and deep gratitude. They have become a record of learning — not polished expertise, but honest reflection along the way.

And somewhere between those late nights, the uncertainty of what to write, and the quiet act of pressing “send,” this space began to matter more than I ever expected.

Not because of how many people read it. But because of what it asks of me each week: to slow down, to notice, and to share from a place of sincerity.

In recent years, something else beautiful began to happen.

George, started gifting me his writings.

I can’t quite describe the feeling when it happens. I’ll hear an email arrive, and at the very same time, a notification from my Google Drive. And I know immediately — I have received a gift from my shuyulh (brother), George.

What he sends are not just words. They are teachings. Reflections shaped by lived experience, culture, land, and spirit. And each time one arrives, I feel both deep gratitude and, if I’m honest, sometimes a sense of relief.

Teachings Tuesday has become richer because of him. Deeper. More grounded. And I am continually amazed by how much he carries, and how steadily he shares it with all of us so that we may learn, reflect, and grow alongside him.

Today, we are honoured to share with you another teaching from Wholwolet’za  George Harris Jr.

George offered these reflections after a summer visit with our friend and community member, John David. As you read, we invite you to slow down and sit with his words. Like the trees he speaks of, this teaching asks us not to rush, but to notice what we are feeding and what we are growing in the spaces around us.

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Last summer I got to visit my friend, John David on Salt Spring Island, and it got me thinking about the beautiful trees and all of the gifts that nature has to offer. Standing among them, I was reminded of how quietly powerful they are. Trees do not rush. They take their time. They grow slowly, season by season, rooted deeply in the land beneath them, reaching upward toward the light

Trees can grow very big. When a tree receives enough sunlight and enough water, it continues to grow and stretch toward the sky. It does not question its purpose. It simply responds to what it is given. The same is true for many of the animals on this earth. When they are provided with food, water, and a safe and supportive environment, they grow strong. They thrive. They find balance within the world around them.

Everything is dictated by our environment. What surrounds us shapes us. What we are exposed to influences how we think, how we act, and how we show up for one another. This is true not only in nature, but in our homes, our workplaces, and our communities. As we move forward in this world, we must slow down and observe what we are feeding and what we are allowing to grow.

Are we feeding the anger, the fear, the hate, and the greed that exist around us? Or are we choosing to feed patience, kindness, understanding, and compassion? Every thought we nurture, every word we speak, and every action we take becomes part of the environment we create. Over time, those choices take root, just like seeds planted in the ground.

My people have always believed in living in balance with the land and with one another. We would love to see a world built on love and respect, where people care for the earth as they care for themselves, and where community is valued over division. We believe in feeding our whole selves, our physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual beings. When we do this, healing becomes possible, not just for individuals, but for generations to come.

So today, I invite each of you to sit back for a moment and reflect. Look honestly at your own life and the spaces you move through each day. Ask yourself what you are feeding and what you are growing. Are you creating an environment that allows love, respect, and healing to take root? And if not, what small change can you make today to start planting different seeds?

Even the tallest trees began as small seeds. What we choose to nurture today will shape the forest we leave behind for those who come after us.

Huy ch q'u, 

Wholwolet'za | George Harris Jr.

Huy ch q’u, George, for the care and generosity you show in sharing your teachings with us so consistently.

And huy ch q’u to each of you for continuing to open these emails each Tuesday, for reflecting alongside us, and for being part of this learning journey.

This month also marks five years of Teachings Tuesday — five years of stories, reflections, vulnerability, learning, and growth shared in this space. What began as a small note sent to 33 friends and family members has become a meaningful rhythm in our work and in our lives.

We are deeply grateful that you have been here with us, whether from the very beginning or somewhere along the way.

May we all take a moment today to consider what we are feeding and what we are growing.

<3 Kim