Liberation is the unshackling of chains, both visible and invisible, that bind our spirits and environments. It's a return to authenticity, a reclamation of our inherent freedom. A return to Source. A re-indigenization of our consciousness. In this space, we honor stories of liberation that inspire and remind us of our individual and collective journey toward wholeness

The River that Remembered Itself

For over a century, the Klamath River was held back. Dams choked its flow, salmon vanished, and a sacred relationship was severed.

But the Yurok, Karuk, Klamath, and other Indigenous nations never stopped listening. Never stopped fighting. The river never stopped remembering.

Now, the dams are gone. The water runs wild again. Salmon return. The land exhales.

Colonization, like the dams that held the Klamath, has left many of us gasping for air. Cut off from our roots. From each other. From the lifeblood that sustains us. But through our collective refusal to give up, through the slow and sacred work of re-indigenization, we begin to flow again. We find breath. We remember that liberation is not something given to us, it is something we return to. As Ram Dass once said, death is like taking off a tight shoe. And so too is liberation. A loosening. A soft release. A return to a state where we can feel good in our bodies, where we can move without resistance, where we can finally just be.

This is what liberation looks like: a river unbound, a people reunited with their lifeblood.

Learn more: California's Klamath River runs free again after largest dam removal in U.S. history

Flames that Heal

The forest remembers fire like a song half-forgotten.

For too long, the government called fire an enemy, banned it, erased the ones who spoke its language. The land suffered. Wildfires grew fierce and hungry without the gentle breath of cultural flame.

But the Karuk and Yurok never forgot. The fire lived in their bodies, passed down in stories, in ceremony, in quiet defiance.

Now, they burn again. On their terms. Fire is no longer a threat. It is a relative. A medicine.

In the glow of low, intentional flame, manzanita returns. Oaks stretch with less fear. The ecosystem breathes.

This is what liberation looks like: a flame held with reverence, a land finally heard.

Learn more: California tribe enters first-of-its-kind agreement with the state to practice cultural burns