I left home at sixteen, and I was effectively homeless from the age of sixteen to twenty-four. I spent the larger part of those years in the shelter of a library reading books—books after books after books. Most of them came from a note pad I carried around in my pocket: I would eavesdrop on conversations and if people were talking about stuff that felt as if it had great weight and consequence I would write that down and take it to the library and ask for books on that subject, and then sit at the table by the window and read them. I gave myself a broad education. I read everything from poetry to astrophysics and all stops in between. It enables me to encounter the power and purpose of words on paper. [Listen to the interview on MPR.org]

I really like what Lenny Bruce said a long time ago, that if the president came on TV and said the N-word over and over till it lost its power, it would just be a word. For me, the way we are referred to by non-aboriginal people doesn’t really have an impact on me because I know who and what I am. Slurs — they just kind of slide off my back these days. I’m too old to pick a fight, I can’t run as fast, and I’m more a man of peace than I was in my younger days. What’s a word, anyways? It’s our weakest form of communication. Our strongest form of communication is our feelings and our spirituality. [Read more at the Edmonton Journal]