At home in Saskatchewan, the central province of Canada where I was born, we were raised as French Canadians. There was never any question or suggestion that we had Native ancestry. At the end of my teenage years, during the first week after I left home to begin my college and university studies in music at Laval University, I had a dream in which the Ancestors spoke to me. In fact, it was a distant grandfather who revealed to me in this dream that I was Indigenous. When I woke up, everything became very clear to me. What I had experienced up to that point and what I would have to experience in the future. Why the world was in such confusion and the environment in such poor condition. I asked my parents if we had Indian blood, as this had never been mentioned. They confirmed this to me. After this revelation, I slowly lost interest in my university studies in music. After a few years of study, I left on a long journey. I visited First Nations across Canada and then on the west coast of the United States. Everywhere I went, I was recognized and accepted by the First Nations people I met and lived with. I met elders from several nations. They all agreed to teach me. Several of them even saw my Ancestor at my side. I never felt the need to prove my ancestry. My inner feeling was so strong that, for me, no external proof was necessary. My conviction was unshakeable and has always been confirmed by the experiences I have had, the people I have met, and the knowledge that arose spontaneously within me when I needed it.
My family ancestry
When a relative spontaneously offered to draw up the family tree, we discovered four Native American ancestors. We were astonished to discover that on my father’s side, we had Abenaki ancestors. Marie Mathilde Pidicwanmiskwe, daughter of Madokawando Pidicwanmiskwe-Malakand Abenaki Grand Chief, married Jean-Vincent d’Abbadie, born in 1652. We had never suspected the presence of Native American blood in my father’s family, even though genetic evidence in physical traits clearly indicated Native American blood on our mother’s side. Moreover, the story was more than picturesque; it was symbolic, for we were the distant descendants of an Abenaki chief who had chosen to marry his daughter to a white man and make this European the chief of his tribe, knowing that he would be better able to help them face the turpitudes of colonization, which was inexorably approaching.
Here is what Bona Arsenault writes in Histoire et Généalogie des Acadiens1:
“Jean Vincent D’Abbadie arrived in Canada in 1665 with the rank of ensign in the Carignan regiment. He befriended the Abenaki, learned their language, and adopted their customs. He married Marie-Mathilde Pidicwanmiskwe, the daughter of their great chief. Succeeding his father-in-law as head of the tribe, he accompanied Iberville with 240 Abenakis to the siege of Pemaquid in 1696. Upon his death in 1707, his son, Bernard-Anselme, succeeded him as chief of the Abenakis. That same year, Bernard-Anselme de St-Castin contributed to the defeat of the Anglo-Americans in the defense of Port Royal at the request of Governor de Subercase. After the fall of Port Royal in 1710, Vaudreuil granted Saint-Castin a commission as lieutenant in Pentagoët (Penobscot, Maine). He was both chief of the Abenakis and an officer in the French army. The incessant attacks by the English against the Abenakis had considerably weakened the tribe, so St-Castin entered into negotiations with the Anglo-Americans, which led to the signing of a peace treaty in 1725.
Our family is also descended from Joseph Riberville, a Pawnee Indian who lived in Lachine as an indentured servant for Guillaume de Lorimier. We also have Jeanne Capciouekoue, also of the Pawnee nation, who married Jean Gauthier in Kaskaskia, Illinois, around 1702.
As mentioned earlier, genetic evidence in physical traits indicated fairly recent Native American blood on our grandmother’s side. Here, the family is faced with a mystery that remains unsolved to this day. Indeed, the name “Cloud,” a fairly common Native American name, is associated with an ancestor who suddenly disappeared in the United States in the early 1900s. She reappeared a few years later, despite reports of her death, and no longer had the same name. She also appeared much younger than she should have been, was now named McClure, and appeared to be of European descent. My uncle, now deceased, met her. But this mystery has not yet been solved. Who was this person, and where did the Indian blood so apparent in the features of my grandmother and her children come from? Genealogical research has remained unclear… and I suspect foul play, as has often been the case in efforts to eliminate Native Americans. The genocide of Native Americans in Canada and the US has never stopped, but that is a story that has been widely documented and one that I do not wish to discuss here. However, other research into the subtle planes (the Akashic records for those who are familiar with them, which the AniYunWiwa call the Temple of Understanding) has revealed that it was an Algonquin family, who’s band had been almost all extinguish by poverty, starvation and disease, who chose to integrate into white culture, as provided for in a Canadian government policy that offered indigenous peoples the opportunity to give up their First Nations status and become Canadian citizens. In fact, I am closer to the Algonquin nations in terms of my temperament, and I have more contact with them than with other nations.
Recognition by my Native American brothers
After this dream that transformed my life, I traveled extensively to meet with First Nations across Canada and the United States. This led me in 1981 to meet a teacher from the AniYunWiwa nation during a conference she was giving in Montreal. For several months, she had been visited in her dreams by an old Algonquin Indian who asked her to remind her grandson of the teachings. He came back to visit her regularly. On the evening we met in Montreal, she saw my Ancestor standing next to me, holding me by the ear. He insisted that I was the grandson he had told her so much about. She asked my grandfather what she could do to bring me back to the path. He asked her to offer me a crystal she was wearing on her dress. At the end of her lecture, she had me given this crystal.
The next evening, I received a vision that gave me the name I now bear, Blue Eagle. Since then, I have journeyed through the traditional teachings of several First Nations. I assimilated some of the practices of the Bear Clan of the AniYunWiwa nation with this same teacher. I also studied with Sun Bear of the Chippewa nation, OhShinnàh Fastwolf of the Apache nation, and Tlakaelel of the Aztec nation. I received teachings from Manitonquat and Slow Turtle, both of the Wampanoag Nation, William Commanda of the Algonquin Nation, N’tsukw of the Innu Nation, and many others too numerous to name, several of whom have since passed away. Everywhere I went, I found effective and powerful teachings.
After eight years of studying with the Elders, I received permission to teach myself. Since 1985, I have been teaching the spiritual and therapeutic techniques and principles of Indigenous nations in Quebec and in many countries around the world. A few years after beginning this part of my life, the Secretary General of the Indian Nation of North America asked me if I would like to obtain my Indian status. I was very happy to accept and provide him with the required photos. Two days later, he offered me my Native American cards and passport free of charge, emphasizing the Indian Government’s appreciation for my work.
In 2023, I sent my genealogy to the Métis Nation of Canada and was formally recognized and accepted as a member of that organization.
The price to pay
Because I had Native American features and was not afraid to openly display my heritage, I also experienced the racism that First Nations people face countless times, whether it be physical or verbal violence, defamation on the web, administrative segregation, or persecution by the national media. I also shared the problems they experience. One of the biggest problems facing First Nations people today is addiction. I have experienced these difficulties, as they were part of my journey, and I have also found healing and liberation from these problems. One of the paths most in harmony with First Nations philosophy and spirituality is the 12 steps of the anonymous movements.
On the other hand, I also experienced racism from Indians against me for daring to teach their traditions to white people and for not having my cards from the Canadian government.
The Canadian government determines who is Indian in the country. As such, having received my cards from the Government of the Indian Nation of North America, without having requested them, free of charge, carries more weight for me than any cards that may come from the Canadian government.
The Government of the Indian Nation of North America is recognized by many countries, and I was very surprised to see that, in the Huron village of Wendake where he was born, its founder is not recognized by some people of his nation. I am referring to the founder of this movement, Jules Sioui, whom I mention in my first volume, L’Héritage Spirituel des Premières Nations the end of his life, Jules was abandoned by most of his people. It was a white man who lived outside the village, Tommy, who took care of him the most. The same people from the Huron Village who do not recognize this organization described this holy man as a senile madman who acted erratically and bizarrely. He was a great sage. I visited him as often as possible. He was always very happy to see me, especially when I brought visitors. After his death, the Secretary General of the Indian Nation of North America, Mr. Regent Sioui, launched a fundraising campaign to honor his memory and give him a funeral monument worthy of what he had done for the First Nations.
A Helping Hand and a great meet at Listuguj Mi’gmaq First Nation
Events that I experienced illustrate the depth of my identification with the Indian soul. I am telling it because it represents an intense moment of inner truth for me.
Quite some time ago, at the very beginning of my commitment to the red path, some disturbing events were reported in the media. In response to complaints from the white sport fishing community, outraged by what they claimed was unfair treatment allowing members of the Restigouch MicMac First Nations to continue their traditional fishing practices, the police carried out a brutal raid on a reservation. Nets and fish catches were seized, indecent acts were committed in front of children, people were imprisoned, property was damaged—in short, this community was deeply shaken and outraged by the actions of the police. First Nations across the country protested against these actions.
I was in the US with the AniYunWiwa community, with whom I have worked for 25 years. With the agreement of the chief of this community, we gathered food, clothing, money, and messages of support, and her nephew and I set out to bring our support to this community. We saw firsthand the physical and psychological damage caused by these events. There was already a lot of racism on the part of the white population, especially the hunters and fishermen from the white villages in the surrounding area, as well as a lot of resentment among the Indian population towards whites, and these events really exacerbated the situation.
I had a commitment in that area to do a week of music in a café. So, my friend and I stayed in a village in the same area. Coincidentally (!) we discovered that it was once the traditional ceremonial grounds of that same nation. After my week of performances, I was inspired to make a vow to return to that area to perform the summer solstice ceremonies the following year. When I made this commitment, I made an offering of sacred herbs, and when I lifted the shell with the incense, the sky lit up with the northern lights. The following year, with my teacher’s instructions, I performed my first summer solstice ceremony. I then continued this ceremony for nine years in different locations. On the last evening of the ceremonies in these places where I had been faithful to my vow, as I offered a prayer of gratitude, the sky lit up again with the northern lights. In both cases, it was summer.
Returning to Vermont in the US, where we had started, we went back to the reservation for a 24-hour stay. We saw many of the people we had met the first time. More violence had taken place. An Indian from the reservation had been shot in the chest by a white man from the neighboring village in a bar between the two communities. This had happened the day before our return to the reservation. That evening, we met with a group of warriors from that community. The man who had been wounded was there. He was a big guy, a force of nature like you sometimes see on reservations. There was no sign that he had just suffered a serious injury. We started a conversation together, a little away from the others. This man confided in me that he had decided, with the consent and collaboration of his group, to make a symbolic gesture that would make it clear to everyone that the Indians would not allow themselves to be abused and assaulted without reacting. The action he was planning was very dangerous and required enormous courage. It seemed incredible to me, especially since it involved acrobatics to succeed and he had just been released from the hospital. But he was a warrior and his commitment was made. He expressed this to me very calmly, but with an intensity and authenticity that filled the atmosphere with a great density. It was one of those moments of truth when life seems filled with clarity. That’s when he asked me about my story. I told him how I had received a dream from my ancestors giving me the mission to walk the red spiritual path, how I had gone from being white to becoming Indian, and what we had come to do in this community. He took a few moments to think about it and his comment was, “That’s powerful medicine.” That moment was very meaningful to me. We were similar in some ways, although he was a warrior and I was a man of peace, but each in our own way we were willing to give our lives for the Indian cause. He recognized me for who I was, and I, in turn, accepted who he was. We were brothers.
The next day, as we were having breakfast in a restaurant before leaving for the US, we heard on the radio that our man had accomplished his heroic deed that night. I never saw him again, but I know that his entire community supported and protected him.
Many Native Americans who participated in my teachings testified that when I taught, I spoke like the elders and that my ceremonies were among some of the most authentic and faithful to tradition that they had experienced. All the elders I met recognized and accepted me for who I was. Some Native people who defended me against those who said I was not Indian would say, “Who is more Indian, the one who has his Canadian government cards but lives like a white man, drinking his case of beer on his porch, or the one who does not have those cards but lives like an Indian, perpetuating the traditions and teachings?”
Since then, at the request of the people at the Invocation.ca office, for whom legitimacy and proof are important in responding to the concerns of associates and clients, I have applied for my Métis cards. I am now a member of the Métis Nation of Canada and I also have my cards from the Native Alliance of Quebec. For me personally, it is my contact with my ancestors in the luminous worlds that matters most. For there, there is only love, peace, and the wisdom of the ages in the eternity of the present moment. That is my true home.
