Chapter 6. Ceremony, Spirituality, and Emotional Wellness
For Indigenous peoples, healing is not only a physical or mental process – it is profoundly spiritual. Our ceremonies and spiritual practices have always been a source of strength and balance. In the face of climate anxiety and ecological grief, turning to ceremony and spirituality can be one of the most powerful ways to care for our emotional wellness. As mentioned earlier, Indigenous notions of health include spiritual health as a core component (2). When we nurture our spirit through ceremony, we are also soothing our minds and hearts.
Ceremony as Therapy
Ceremonies – whether it’s a sweat lodge, a smudging ritual, a sundance, a potlatch, or a water ceremony – create a sacred space for processing emotions and finding guidance. Within the safety of ceremony, people can release tears, voice prayers, and feel the presence of ancestors and community supporting them. This can provide relief from the heavy burden of climate-related stress. For example, in some communities that experienced extreme drought, women have led water ceremonies at the river’s edge. They sing to the water, offer tobacco or cedar, and pray not only for rain but also express their sorrow to the water for any disrespect it has suffered. Participants often describe feeling a weight lifted from their shoulders afterward. The act of communal prayer transforms anxiety into hope – it reminds everyone that they are not facing these challenges alone, and that there are spiritual forces they can call upon.
Ceremony can also help us make meaning out of what might seem like senseless destruction. After a catastrophic wildfire, a First Nation in California organized a healing ceremony on the burned land. They danced and sang traditional healing songs for the forest, asking for its forgiveness for any wrongs that may have contributed to the fire and committing to care for it better. Community members, especially the youth, reported that this ritual gave them a sense of closure and a way to talk about their fear. Instead of silently carrying that fear, they “gave it to the fire” through the ceremony, symbolically releasing it. In psychological terms, such rituals can be seen as a form of expressive therapy or cognitive reframing. In our own cultural terms, it is simply the way we know how to heal – by returning to tradition.
Spiritual Connection and Inner Strength
Indigenous spirituality often teaches us that we are never truly alone – we are surrounded by the spirits of our ancestors, the spirit of the land, and the Creator (or however each nation understands the higher power). This worldview can be a tremendous comfort in times of crisis. When dealing with eco-anxiety, for instance, knowing that one can pray or speak to the spirits of the land can relieve some of the helplessness. Many Indigenous people say that when they are in distress, they go to a special place in nature – perhaps a riverside, a grandfather tree, or a mountain – and pray or make an offering. In doing so, they feel heard and supported by forces greater than themselves. One Dene youth described his practice of lighting a qulliq (seal oil lamp) and speaking to his late grandmother’s spirit whenever the news about climate change overwhelmed him. “She reminds me to be strong,” he said, “and that our people have spiritual tools to handle fear.”
Spiritual teachings also instill resilience by framing our current struggles in a larger context. Many Indigenous cultures have prophecies or stories about times of great change. For example, some Cree Elders speak of the Seven Fires Prophecy, which, among other things, foretells a time when humanity comes to a crossroads of paths – one green and one scorched – and that Indigenous peoples’ wisdom will be crucial for choosing the right path (the green, life-sustaining one). Such prophecies can give young people a sense that what is happening now was foreseen and that they have an important role to play in fulfilling their ancestors’ vision. It transforms climate action into not just a practical necessity but a spiritual mission. When youth internalize that protecting the Earth is a sacred responsibility entrusted to them, it can ignite a powerful sense of purpose that pushes back against despair.
Maintaining Rituals Despite Change
A key aspect of resilience is continuing our spiritual practices even as the environment changes. This continuity itself is healing. For instance, consider the annual first salmon ceremony practiced by many Pacific Northwest nations. If climate change causes salmon numbers to dwindle one year, it might be tempting to cancel the ceremony out of sadness or lack of fish. But many communities have resolved to hold onto those ceremonies no matter what – even if the form has to adapt. They may symbolically honor the salmon with a small sample, or incorporate prayers for the salmon’s return. Holding the ceremony affirms the relationship is still alive. It sends a message to the community that we haven’t given up. Likewise, other seasonal ceremonies (first hunt, first berry, solstice celebrations) are being maintained or revived as a way to assert cultural continuity in the face of disruption. These gatherings bring joy, connectivity, and a sense of normalcy that can counter the mental strain of witnessing abnormal climate events.
In British Columbia, one coastal First Nation reports that their winter Longhouse ceremonies have been a crucial source of strength during recent turbulent years of storms and pandemic. An Elder explained that when the community comes into the Longhouse, they leave behind (temporarily) the worries of the outside world – inside, the laws of their ancestors and the presence of the Creator are what matter. For a time, people focus on dances, songs, and ritual, reaffirming who they are. This acts as a reset for the mind and spirit. Afterward, the problems are still there, but everyone’s hearts are fortified, and their minds are clearer to face them. In a way, one can think of ceremony as a form of guided meditation and group therapy combined, led by cultural experts (Elders, medicine people). The difference is, it’s embedded in a rich cultural framework that resonates deeply with participants’ identity and beliefs, arguably making it even more effective than generic mindfulness techniques for Indigenous participants.
Traditional Healing Practices and Medicines
Alongside formal ceremonies, many individuals find solace in daily or personal spiritual practices. Smudging with sacred medicines like sage, sweetgrass, cedar, or tobacco is one such practice. When someone feels anxious or has had a bad day (perhaps after hearing dire climate news), they might burn some sage and cleanse themselves with the smoke, praying for calmness and clarity. Smudging is known to slow down breathing and create a moment of pause and reflection. It engages the senses – the smell of the herbs, the sight of the curling smoke – which can pull a person out of swirling anxious thoughts and into the present moment. It’s a ritual that says: “Let me clear away negativity.” Doing this regularly can help manage the chronic stress that builds from environmental worries.
Similarly, the sweat lodge ceremony, common in many nations, is a powerful cleansing ritual for emotional burdens. Inside the dark, heated lodge, participants pray and often speak from the heart. It’s not uncommon for someone to pour out their fears or grief during a sweat, and as they pour water on the hot stones, it’s like releasing those troubles to the Creator. People emerge from sweat lodges physically exhausted but often spiritually rejuvenated – many describe a sense of having “left their pain in the lodge” and feeling lighter afterwards. Research has indicated that participation in sweat lodge ceremonies can serve as a coping mechanism that shapes positive health outcomes (11) (many Indigenous participants simply say, “It’s medicine to me.”). By extension, a sweat aimed with prayers for Mother Earth and for personal strength in facing climate challenges can be a potent therapy.
Beyond ceremonies, even traditional art and crafts can take on a spiritual dimension that supports mental health. Activities like carving, beadwork, or weaving are often done in a prayerful state or are accompanied by stories and songs. These practices connect individuals with their ancestors (who likely did the same crafts) and with the spirit of creativity. For someone feeling overwhelmed, sitting down to bead a pair of moccasins or carve a paddle while concentrating on good intentions can be deeply calming. It’s a form of active meditation. Some communities have started beading circles specifically for discussing heavy topics like climate anxiety – people gather, bring their beadwork, and talk or listen while their hands stay busy creating something beautiful. This is in line with how our ancestors taught and healed: doing things with intention and ceremony, whether it was preparing food, sewing, or building a canoe, everything had rituals and prayers attached. Reviving that sense of the sacred in everyday actions can help restore a feeling of control and sanctity in life, even when external events seem chaotic.
Sacred Sites and Pilgrimages
Many nations have particular sacred sites – a mountain, a lake, a cave – that are traditionally seen as places of power or healing. Visiting these places can have profound emotional benefits. For example, the St’át’imc people of BC undertake journeys to a place called Chí∂aqa (Goat Mountain) for spiritual treks. One youth who went on such a pilgrimage noted that spending four days on the mountain, fasting and praying under the guidance of Elders, completely transformed his outlook. He went up the mountain anxious and angry (he had been involved in climate activism and was burning out); he came down with a sense of peace and direction, saying he felt his ancestors with him, telling him to live and lead with love, not anger. In times of climate crisis, reaffirming our relationship to sacred places – and in some cases fighting to protect them from environmental harm – serves both a practical and spiritual purpose. It protects biodiversity and water (practical) and also nourishes the soul of the community (spiritual). Knowing that a waterfall or grove of ancient trees is spiritually significant can galvanize people to take action to preserve it, and that act of stewardship in turn gives people a sense of spiritual fulfillment, creating a positive feedback loop for well-being.
Integration with Modern Mental Health Supports
It’s worth noting that many mental health professionals (Indigenous and non-Indigenous) are recognizing the importance of incorporating spirituality into care. Culturally competent counseling for Indigenous clients often involves encouraging them to engage in ceremony or connect with spiritual mentors as part of their healing plan. Some clinics now have Elders or traditional healers working alongside psychologists – a client might attend a prayer circle or healing ceremony in tandem with attending therapy sessions. This holistic approach tends to have better outcomes because it addresses all facets of wellness. Remember that spiritual wellness is a crucial component of overall health; as one report states, “spiritual wellness...forms a crucial component of overall health, supporting all aspects of well-being” (10). In practice, this means a person dealing with eco-anxiety might find more relief in one sweat lodge ceremony or one night of intense prayer than months of trying to cope alone. It also means communities collectively benefit when spiritual practices are widely accessible – it creates a kind of communal immune system for mental health, where culture and faith act as protective factors.
Faith in the Future
At its core, spirituality provides something essential for mental health: hope. Indigenous spiritual teachings often emphasize cycles – after winter comes spring, after destruction comes renewal. Many creation stories speak of the world undergoing transformations but continuing on. This instills a sense that while things may be dire now, they are not the end of the story. Having faith – whether faith in the Creator’s plan, or faith in our ancestors watching over us, or faith in the youth as the new warriors for the Earth – can keep the flame of hope alive when logic alone might not. Emotional wellness in the climate crisis era is bolstered by this kind of hope. It’s not a naive or passive hope, but an active one: the kind you feed with prayer, ceremony, and community support.
In conclusion, ceremony and spirituality are not just add-ons to climate resilience; they are central pillars. They remind us of who we are and what we stand for. They allow us to find peace amid chaos, to transform fear into prayer, and to draw strength from the unseen but deeply felt aspects of life. As we move into Chapter 7 on taking action, keep in mind that for many Indigenous people, taking action itself can be a form of ceremony and devotion – standing up for the land can be as sacred as a prayer. And conversely, our prayers guide our actions, ensuring that what we do comes from a place of love and respect rather than just anger or fear. In this way, spirituality and action go hand in hand to maintain our emotional wellness and our resolve.
Below are some helpful resources related to the content in this chapter:
First Nations Mental Wellness Continuum Framework is a nationally recognized framework (2015) that puts Culture as Foundation for mental health. Developed by First Nations and partners, it shows how traditional practices – Elders’ teachings, ceremonies, language, and connection to land – form the base of a “continuum” of care. The framework reminds us that nurturing spiritual wellness (through culture and ceremony) is just as important as physical or mental interventions in healing. It’s a useful resource for designing culturally safe mental health programs; for example, it calls for involving cultural practitioners and honoring Indigenous knowledge in all aspects of wellness.
“The Indigenous Rituals That Heal Us” is an article by Patricia St. Onge (Yes! Magazine) that shares how her Haudenosaunee/Mohawk community uses traditional rituals to heal collective trauma and grief. She explains a Medicine Wheel framework in which each direction (Spirit, Body, Mind, Heart) offers gifts for healing, and emphasizes the role of ceremony in “the work of the heart,” repairing relationships. One example is the Haudenosaunee Condolence Ceremony – a ritual of wiping tears and lifting the burden of grief from those who are hurting, through blessings with an eagle feather and other symbolic gestures. This story illustrates how returning to ceremony can restore emotional balance and communal wellness in times of pain or climate anxiety.
Chapter Highlights
Ceremony is a sacred space for releasing climate grief, transforming fear into prayer, and building collective strength.
Spiritual teachings remind us we are never alone—our ancestors, land spirits, and Creator walk with us.
Rituals like water ceremonies, sweat lodges, and smudging offer emotional grounding and meaning-making.
Maintaining and adapting spiritual practices amid climate disruption helps preserve identity and offer continuity.
Spirituality turns climate action into sacred responsibility—activism becomes ceremony, and hope becomes a teaching.
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