The Seven Circles

The Seven Circles Plot Summary

Introduction

Dawn breaks over the Sonoran Desert as Thosh Collins steps outside, barefoot on the cool earth. He faces east, arms outstretched to receive the first rays of sunlight, a morning ritual passed down through generations of his O'odham ancestors. Two thousand miles away in North Dakota, Chelsey Luger wakes her daughters with songs that her Lakota and Anishinaabe grandmothers once sang. These seemingly simple moments represent something profound – an Indigenous approach to wellness that has sustained Native communities for millennia despite historical trauma and ongoing challenges. In a world where wellness has become commercialized and disconnected from cultural context, Indigenous perspectives offer refreshing wisdom. The authors share a holistic framework rooted in ancestral knowledge yet perfectly adaptable to contemporary life. Through their Seven Circles approach, they reveal how movement, land connection, community bonds, ceremony, sacred space, sleep, and food form an interconnected system for balanced living. Rather than prescribing rigid rules or expensive regimens, they offer practical guidance for incorporating these elements into daily life, emphasizing that wellness is not about perfection but about harmony, not about products but about practices, and ultimately not about individual achievement but about collective healing. Their message transcends cultural boundaries, inviting all readers to discover ancient solutions to modern problems.

Chapter 1: The Seven Circles: A Holistic Approach to Wellness

One cool evening in Mohawk territory, a baby girl and her mother walk to the water's edge to make a medicine offering. The little one, already familiar with this ritual, reaches into her mother's basket for a pinch of tobacco. With tiny fingers, she places it gently on the shore. Together, they step into the lake, watching ripples spread outward as they wash harvested herbs. The mother speaks softly in her ancestral language, acknowledging the water's gifts – how it quenches thirst, holds babies in wombs, brings rain and renewal. This simple act of gratitude exemplifies a worldview where wellness is not compartmentalized but fluid and interconnected. Across Indigenous communities, from the Arctic to the Southwest, gratitude practices begin nearly every important undertaking. Before harvesting, hunting, or healing, there is acknowledgment and thanks. This foundational attitude serves both practical and spiritual purposes – it reinforces humans' place within the natural world rather than above it, while psychologically orienting the mind toward abundance rather than scarcity. In modern wellness terms, we might call this mindfulness or positive psychology, but for Indigenous peoples, it's simply the proper way to live. The Seven Circles model emerged from the authors' work with Native communities facing significant health disparities. After years of travel across Indian Country, observing commonalities in traditional healing approaches, they formalized this visual healing tool – a series of interconnected, dynamic circles representing movement, land, community, ceremony, sacred space, sleep, and food. Unlike linear Western models focused on achievement and endpoints, this cyclical framework emphasizes balance and continual renewal. Central to this approach is the understanding that these elements cannot be truly separated. Movement practices connect people to land; land provides food; food brings communities together; communities maintain ceremonies; ceremonies create sacred space; sacred spaces promote restful sleep; and proper sleep enables movement. This interconnectedness mirrors Indigenous understandings of the universe itself – where everything affects everything else in an endless web of relationship. What distinguishes this wellness model from mainstream approaches is its cultural humility. There are no universal prescriptions, no one-size-fits-all solutions. Instead, the authors offer guidelines, not rules – adaptable principles that honor individual circumstances while providing a sturdy framework. This flexibility makes the Seven Circles accessible regardless of cultural background, economic status, or physical ability. The focus remains on progress, not perfection. The Seven Circles model ultimately reframes wellness as a journey of relationship – with oneself, with others, with the natural world, and with unseen forces. By approaching health holistically, it addresses not just physical symptoms but root causes, offering healing that extends beyond individual bodies to families, communities, and the land itself. This perspective comes not a moment too soon, as mainstream society increasingly recognizes the limitations of fragmented approaches to wellbeing.

Chapter 2: Movement as Culture: Rebuilding Physical Connection

On a sunny afternoon in Arizona, Thosh and Chelsey watch their toddler navigate a rocky path beside the Salt River. They're not just hiking – they're continuing an ancestral tradition of movement as education. Their daughter develops spatial awareness, balance, and confidence with each step, learning to read the desert landscape through physical engagement. "As we write this," Thosh shares, "she is only a toddler, but she has been to areas of the desert that many people in her own community have never seen... This makes me feel all the more grateful to have the opportunity to raise her this way." Movement for Indigenous peoples has never been merely recreational or aesthetic. It was spiritually significant, communally oriented, and educationally purposeful. Young Lakota boys trained vigorously not primarily for physical appearance but to develop skills that would allow them to feed and protect their communities. Hopi youth ran from village to village as messengers, developing the endurance that would later make their communities famous for long-distance running. These movement practices were seamlessly integrated into daily life, not cordoned off as "exercise time." Today, the authors advocate for what they call "movement culture" rather than fitness regimens. They emphasize seven basic movement patterns – push, pull, squat, lunge, hip hinge, rotate, and gait – that Indigenous ancestors naturally incorporated into their lives. These functional movements build what they call "real-world strength," developing the body as an interconnected system rather than isolated muscle groups. This approach stands in contrast to compartmentalized Western fitness that divides the body into separate "workout days." The Indigenous movement mentality also reframes the purpose of physical activity. Rather than exercising to change one's appearance, movement becomes a celebration of what the body can do, a way of honoring its capabilities. Powwow dancers exemplify this perspective – they dance "for the people," viewing their movement as a gift to the community, especially for those who cannot move themselves. This service-oriented approach transforms exercise from self-focused to community-minded. Perhaps most significantly, Indigenous movement principles offer healing for those struggling with addiction. Chelsey shares her personal journey from alcohol dependence to wellness, describing how reclaiming movement practices helped her rebuild self-worth. "Movement became my temple, my therapist, my friend, my teacher, and my art," she writes. By connecting physical activity to cultural identity and spiritual practice, movement becomes more than a health intervention – it becomes a pathway to wholeness. The Indigenous approach to movement ultimately offers a radical counternarrative to Western fitness culture. It suggests that true wellness comes not from isolating physical activity as a separate component of life, but by reintegrating it throughout our days, spaces, and relationships. When movement is woven into the fabric of daily living – walking to greet the sun, dancing to celebrate community milestones, hunting to provide food – it naturally supports holistic health without becoming another item on our to-do lists.

Chapter 3: Land as Medicine: Reclaiming Environmental Relationships

"Watch how you walk, you are walking on your mother." These words from Dr. A.C. "Chuck" Ross capture the profound reverence Indigenous people hold for land. For Thosh Collins, this connection was forged at the convergence of two rivers that run through his reservation. As a child, he participated in spiritual runs and ceremonies at these sacred waters. During one particularly significant ritual when he was young, their spiritual leader instructed the participants to enter the cold November river. "Our cultural leaders explained to us that we were cleaning ourselves and getting power from the river in preparation for the long run ahead," Thosh recalls. Though challenging, this experience gave him a sense of belonging and, surprisingly, physical strength for the journey ahead. This intimate relationship with land extends beyond mere appreciation of nature's beauty. For Indigenous peoples, land is a living entity with which humans maintain a reciprocal relationship – not a resource to be exploited, but a relative to be respected. When people take from the land, they give back through offerings, prayers, and stewardship. This philosophy stands in stark contrast to the colonial mindset that views land as property and commodity. The health implications of this worldview are profound. Studies show that even brief exposure to natural environments measurably reduces stress hormones, boosts vitamin D levels, improves mood, and enhances self-esteem. Indigenous knowledge has long recognized these benefits, incorporating land-based healing into cultural practices. What science now confirms through research, Native communities have understood through generations of lived experience. Chelsey shares how she maintained this connection even while living in New York City: "I'd walk from my apartment in central Brooklyn to the East River waterfront a few miles away... I'd go to Prospect Park or Central Park and walk with bare feet – even just a few steps, to feel more grounded." Her story demonstrates that land connection isn't limited to pristine wilderness; it can happen wherever we are, if we approach our surroundings with intention and respect. Land connection also serves as a powerful anchor for identity and belonging. Many Indigenous people describe feeling "homesick" when separated from their ancestral territories. This isn't merely nostalgia but a deep biological and spiritual response to disconnection from lands that have shaped their people for thousands of years. Reconnecting with these places often brings profound healing, particularly for those struggling with historical trauma or cultural displacement. The authors suggest that this Indigenous perspective on land relationship could benefit everyone, regardless of cultural background. By shifting from viewing land as property to experiencing it as relative, people can develop healthier environmental relationships while addressing modern epidemics of disconnection and isolation. In a world facing climate crisis and widespread ecological degradation, Indigenous models of reciprocity with the natural world offer both practical and philosophical paths forward.

Chapter 4: Community Connection: The Power of Kinship

At a powwow in Southern California, a twelve-year-old boy wins his first grass dancing contest. Beaming with pride, he receives an envelope containing several hundred dollars in prize money. As the next event begins, the authors watch him walk to the sidelines where the drum groups sit. Without hesitation, he places his entire prize on the center of the drum that had accompanied his dance, shaking hands with each singer before walking away. "He left his reward," they write, "but came away with something greater. He showed the world that his family had taught him to be generous." This moment exemplifies Indigenous kinship values that prioritize relationships over individual achievement. In Native communities, elders are honored, children are cherished, and babies are adored. Extended family connections remain strong despite centuries of colonial attempts to dismantle them. From birth, Indigenous children learn they are part of something larger than themselves, that their actions affect those around them, and that they have a responsibility to both ancestors and future generations. These community bonds serve as powerful protective factors against isolation, which research increasingly identifies as a major public health crisis. Studies show that loneliness increases risk for disrupted sleep, elevated blood pressure, cognitive decline, depression, anxiety, inflammation, and shortened lifespan. Nearly half of Americans report feeling lonely today, compared to just 20 percent in the 1980s. Indigenous community structures offer an alternative model where interconnection is normalized and cultivated. Each Indigenous nation expresses kinship values uniquely. The O'odham practice accountability through a teaching that when you're in the community, your actions reflect your family; when you're in Native Country, your actions reflect your tribal nation; and when you're outside Native Country, your actions reflect all Native people. The Anishinaabe uphold seven grandfather teachings including honesty, truth, humility, love, wisdom, courage, and respect. The Lakota philosophy of mitakuye oyasin ("we are all related") extends kinship beyond humans to include plants, animals, elements, and the cosmos. While maintaining these kinship networks requires effort, particularly in today's individualistic society, the authors emphasize the profound benefits. Having a role in community gives purpose, motivation, and a sense of belonging that contributes significantly to mental health. Community also provides practical support during life transitions and challenges. Rather than seeing family and social obligations as burdens that take away from wellness activities, Indigenous perspectives frame community connection as wellness itself. Community wellness isn't just about present relationships; it spans backward to ancestors and forward to descendants not yet born. This intergenerational mindset creates accountability and hope. As the authors note, "Healthy people make healthy families, healthy families make healthy communities, and healthy communities make a stronger, safer, cleaner, more balanced world." By this understanding, personal wellness becomes an act of service to a greater collective.

Chapter 5: Ceremony as Healing: Finding Balance Through Ritual

After a morning swimming at their favorite spot on the river, Chelsey and Thosh took their daughters for a drive around the reservation. They stopped to visit Thosh's father, Tony, who came out to chat while they stayed in the truck so the baby could continue napping. Mid-conversation, a whirlwind suddenly approached—a miniature tornado common in desert landscapes. Tony remained calm as it enveloped them, turning his back to it and lowering his hat while the family quickly rolled up the windows. When it passed, he simply brushed himself off and laughed. Chelsey initially felt relieved they had protected their daughters from the debris, but then realized something profound: "I hope that our girls will learn to face challenges the way that their grandpa handled the whirlwind: calmly, with bravery and a little bit of humor." This simple story captures the essence of ceremonial thinking—approaching life's inevitable challenges with equanimity, courage, and even grace. Indigenous ceremony has always been a system for maintaining balance, not achieving perfection. From major community gatherings like Sun Dance to daily personal rituals like smudging, ceremonial practices provide tools for navigating life's complexities while staying rooted in deeper meaning. Ceremony takes countless forms across Indigenous nations. Some are individual practices, like daily prayer with sacred medicines; others involve entire communities, like harvest celebrations or naming ceremonies. Some respond to tragedies; others commemorate milestones. What unites them is their purpose: to renew relationships between people, the natural world, and spiritual forces; to remind participants how to live honorably; and to ground people in humility, an ancestral value held in high regard. These ceremonial practices were forcibly suppressed for generations. The United States government banned Indigenous spiritual gatherings, and children in boarding schools were punished for speaking their languages or practicing their traditions. Remarkably, these ceremonies survived underground, preserved by elders who recognized their essential role in community wellbeing. The American Indian Religious Freedom Act wasn't passed until 1978, making Indigenous spiritual practice legally protected only within most readers' lifetimes. Science is now confirming what Indigenous communities have always known—ceremony heals. Dr. Michael Yellow Bird's research demonstrates that when people dance, sing, run, speak ancestral languages, and participate in traditional practices, they experience measurable neurological benefits. These activities trigger neurogenesis (growth of new brain cells), protect against depression and anxiety, raise levels of mood-enhancing brain chemicals, and activate regions associated with wellbeing. The ceremonial life is literally rewiring practitioners' brains for health. The authors emphasize that ceremony need not be elaborate to be effective. Simple daily rituals—greeting the sun, expressing gratitude before meals, or creating intentional bedtime routines—can transform mundane activities into meaningful practices. As Esther Perel notes, "routines get us through the day, while rituals guide us through life." By approaching everyday actions with intention and reverence, anyone can begin walking in what Indigenous people call "a ceremonial way." In today's fast-paced world where digital distraction and constant consumption leave many feeling spiritually empty, ceremonial thinking offers a pathway back to presence and purpose. It suggests that meaning isn't found in grand achievements or acquisitions, but in the mindful attention we bring to ordinary moments. This perspective reminds us that wellness isn't about escaping life's storms, but about learning to stand steady within them.

Chapter 6: Sacred Space: Creating Environments for Wellness

In this chapter, Thosh shares a powerful memory of Mrs. H, a respected O'odham medicine woman known for her gift of sensing unseen forces that affected people's health. When called to help families who were suffering, she would do more than treat individuals—she would doctor the entire home. "She instructed her patients to open the windows and let in the sunlight," Thosh recalls. "She spoke about the importance of sun to our spiritual and emotional health. The sunlight is sacred, a helper, and a life-giver." She would also advise against watching violence on television, especially for children, understanding how visual content could negatively impact psychological health long before Western science confirmed this connection. This traditional wisdom reflects the Indigenous understanding that our environments profoundly influence our wellbeing. Whether a tipi on the Great Plains, an adobe dwelling in the desert, or a longhouse in the Northeast, Indigenous homes were never just physical structures—they were extensions of culture, spirituality, and health practices. Homes were designed to facilitate connection to elements, to accommodate extended family, and to harmonize with surrounding landscapes. Every aspect of traditional dwelling design considered physical comfort alongside spiritual alignment. Today, this wisdom has particular relevance as many people spend approximately 90 percent of their time indoors, often in spaces that compromise rather than support health. The authors advocate for creating "sacred spaces" that facilitate wellness in all its dimensions. This begins with cleansing—whether through smudging with traditional medicines, opening windows to allow fresh air circulation, or simply tidying up with intentional thoughts. Physical arrangement matters too; leaving open areas for movement, minimizing electronic noise, incorporating natural materials, and allowing sunlight to enter all contribute to a healing environment. Indigenous minimalism offers another powerful concept for sacred space creation. Traditional Native communities valued generosity over accumulation, measuring wealth not by possessions but by what one gives away. This perspective stands in stark contrast to consumer culture that encourages constant acquisition. By decluttering and releasing attachments to excess, people create both physical and mental space for what truly matters. As Luther Standing Bear wrote, "There was no possible excuse for hoarding; on the contrary it stood for selfishness and lack of self-restraint." Boundaries also play a critical role in maintaining sacred spaces. The authors share the story of a workshop participant who struggled with setting limits on relatives who would crash on her couch for extended periods, bringing chaos to her home. A social worker finally helped her reframe boundary-setting: "When you say no to someone toxic, you are saying yes to others who need you more—like your children." This wisdom helped her create a safer, more balanced environment that supported her sobriety and her family's wellbeing. The concept of sacred space extends beyond physical dwellings to include digital environments as well. Just as Indigenous grandmothers once warned about products of technology that could "pollute and destroy our terrestrial atmosphere," the authors encourage mindfulness about online spaces. Regular digital decluttering—clearing inboxes, closing unused tabs, unfollowing negative accounts—creates mental space similar to physical tidying. By approaching both our homes and our screens as sacred territories worthy of care and intention, we create environments that support rather than undermine our health. Through these Indigenous approaches to space, we learn that our surroundings are not neutral backdrops but active participants in our wellness journey. By treating our homes, workplaces, and digital realms as extensions of ourselves—worthy of reverence, cleansing, and protection—we create foundations for holistic health that support all other wellness practices.

Chapter 7: Nourishment and Reciprocity: Indigenous Food Wisdom

Two synchronous stories from different reservations reflect the complex history of Indigenous food systems. In the 1930s, Chelsey's grandparents on Standing Rock Reservation established a cattle ranch and opened the Red and White General Store. Meanwhile, Thosh's grandparents on Salt River Reservation opened a small market selling produce they grew themselves, providing their community with traditional O'odham crops like squash, corn, and beans. Both couples witnessed devastating changes to their food landscapes—government dams flooding agricultural lands, forced shifts from communal to individual land ownership, and the introduction of processed foods. They adapted by meeting their communities' changing needs while maintaining connections to traditional foodways. This history illustrates how food systems for Indigenous peoples have been weaponized through colonization. When the U.S. government deliberately exterminated buffalo herds in the 1800s, they weren't just killing animals but attempting to destroy Native economies, spiritual practices, and self-sufficiency. Similar stories played out across North America as traditional food systems were systematically dismantled. Today's health disparities in Native communities—including high rates of diabetes, heart disease, and obesity—are direct consequences of these historical traumas, not inherent cultural or genetic flaws. The authors offer a healing approach they call "Indigenous foodways," which focuses on rebuilding relationships with food rather than prescribing rigid diets. Unlike trendy "ancestral" eating plans that often appropriate Indigenous concepts while excluding Native people themselves, this approach is accessible, adaptable, and compassionate. It centers seven key actions: giving thanks, hunting and fishing, foraging, growing, shopping, cooking, and supporting breastfeeding freedom. Gratitude forms the foundation of this framework, accessible to everyone regardless of circumstances. "We can all give thanks," the authors emphasize, encouraging mindfulness and presence with food even when eating takeout pizza or convenience items. This practice transforms meals from mundane necessities to sacred opportunities for connection and reflection. Scientific research now confirms what Indigenous cultures have always known—expressing gratitude promotes positivity, reduces stress, and builds resilience. Hunting, fishing, foraging, and growing represent ways of directly engaging with food procurement. These practices foster intimacy with food sources and deepen understanding of sustainability. Thosh shares a powerful story of taking his daughters on their first family hunt: "Amidst the foothills of Red Mountain on the rez, with Alo on my back in a child carrier and Westyn in a baby carrier on Chelsey trailing behind us, I spotted [a javelina] about two hundred yards away." After a successful hunt, he talked with his daughter about the life and death of the animal, including her in prayers of gratitude for its sacrifice. Rather than promoting perfectionism, the authors embrace a hybrid approach in their own home. They hunt, forage, fish, and grow when possible, but also regularly shop at grocery stores. "On any given night, our plate will be a mix of Indigenous and conventional foods," they write. This balanced perspective acknowledges real-world constraints while encouraging continual growth toward food sovereignty. The Indigenous approach to food ultimately reframes nourishment as relationship. Food is not merely fuel or entertainment but a sacred entity deserving of respect. By approaching eating with this mindset, people can heal not only individual bodies but community and ecological relationships as well. As the authors note, understanding food as "a physical expression of how we as humans are vulnerable in and dependent on the natural world" transforms our entire outlook on nourishment and health.

Summary

Indigenous wellness wisdom offers a profound alternative to fragmented modern approaches to health. Through the Seven Circles model, we discover a framework that honors the interconnection between movement, land, community, ceremony, sacred space, sleep, and food. This holistic perspective recognizes that walking in balance requires attention to all these dimensions, not as separate compartments but as a flowing, dynamic system. When we move our bodies with intention, we honor the land; when we respect the land, we nourish ourselves with its gifts; when we share these gifts with others, we strengthen community; and so the circle continues. The journey toward wellness is not about achieving perfection but about returning to balance. As the authors remind us, "Balance is not a perfect state of being that one achieves. It requires a constant returning-to." This cyclical perspective offers freedom from the tyranny of linear progress and impossible standards. Instead, we can embrace the natural ebb and flow of wellness, knowing that each day brings a new opportunity to reconnect with these ancient teachings. The Indigenous approach invites us all to believe in the possibility of healing—for ourselves, our communities, and the earth itself. As Kiowa writer N. Scott Momaday suggests, "It may have to be believed in order to be seen." By embracing these timeless practices with hope and reverence, we not only transform our personal health but contribute to a world returning to harmony.

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Chelsey Luger

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