Spiders, Shorelines, and Systems Change: Reflections from Port Elgin with Doran Ritchie

When I set out for Port Elgin, I knew I was attending a meeting, but what I didn’t expect was an experience that would profoundly shape how I view land, leadership, and the responsibility we carry into the Truth & Reconciliation Summit this September.

Port Elgin, nestled on the shores of Lake Huron, is not just another small Ontario town. It sits on the traditional territory of the Saugeen, a reminder that every step we take here is layered with histories far older than any of our modern communities. It is a place where nature demands attention: vast skies, crystalline waters, and forests that seem to hum with life.

Before my meeting with Doran Ritchie, I went for an early morning walk along the coast. The air was thick with mist, softening the horizon where water met sky. As the sun rose, full rainbows arched across the lake, their colours reflecting in the glassy surface.

But what struck me most were the spiders. Everywhere I looked, webs glistened with dew, tiny beads catching the morning light. Bugs hung suspended, the spiders moving with quiet precision.

At first, I felt a bit unsettled. It’s not every day you walk into a landscape teeming with webs. But the longer I observed, the more I was struck by the perfection of it all. Each web was a marvel of self-sufficiency and resilience. The spiders weren’t wasting; they were sustaining. They were part of a system so precise, so balanced, that it reminded me of what we mean when we speak about land acknowledgements.

Too often, we recite them like a script. But standing there, surrounded by mist, webs, and the unbroken cycle of life, I understood in a deeper way: the land itself sustains us. Acknowledging that isn’t a formality; it’s a responsibility.

It’s one reason I’m so excited that the Kairos Blanket Exercise will be part of the Truth & Reconciliation Summit. The exercise invites participants to immerse themselves in the layered story of Indigenous peoples, the land, and the impacts of colonization. Like my morning walk, it’s not an abstract lesson; it’s a lived experience.

Later, I met Doran Ritchie for lunch on a sunny patio in downtown Port Elgin. The setting was relaxed—people chatting at neighbouring tables, the lake breeze drifting through—but the conversation was anything but casual.

Doran is a gifted thinker and a relentless advocate. His work in co-governance and systems change is impressive not just because of his knowledge, but because of his clarity. He has navigated political structures at the regional, provincial, and national levels, always bringing an Indigenous lens to the table. Listening to him, I was struck by how much he has transformed systems. Not by working around them, but by reshaping them from within.

One story that captivated me was his work with the Niagara Escarpment. The Escarpment is one of Ontario’s great natural treasures, but like so many landscapes, it faces pressures from development and policy decisions. Doran’s efforts to ensure Indigenous voices and perspectives are not only included but central to decision-making are a model for how we can build more sustainable and just futures.

Walking away from that conversation, I felt both grounded and energized. Grounded in the reality that our systems are complex and often slow to change. Energized by the reminder that change is possible when we bring the right voices forward, and when we stay committed to listening, learning, and acting.

That is what makes the upcoming HEDR Truth & Reconciliation Summit on September 24 so important. It will not just be a day of speeches and panels; it will be a space of learning, reflection, and action. With leaders like Doran Ritchie sharing their expertise, and immersive experiences like the Kairos Blanket Exercise guiding our understanding, this summit will help us bridge knowledge into action.

Truth and reconciliation are not abstract ideals. They are daily choices- how we engage with the land, how we shift our systems, and how we create space for Indigenous leadership.

As I left Port Elgin, the image of the morning spiders stayed with me. Perfectly balanced, endlessly resilient, and quietly powerful. That, to me, is the lesson we need to carry into September.

The land sustains us. The systems can be reshaped. And together, we can weave something strong, enduring, and just.