Resonant Gathering—those are the words that best capture the essence of the New Mexico Tribal Forest and Fire Summit, organized by Trees, Water & People (TWP). Held from March 4th to 6th, 2025, on Mescalero Apache territory, this much-needed convergence honored Indigenous knowledge in wildfire management. More than just a meeting, the summit was a testament to the power of bringing Tribal governments and other Indigenous leadership to the table—an act of roots and reverence. 

As an Advisory Council member for the Community Catalyst Fund, I had the opportunity to participate not as a distant, transactional entity but as an engaged partner fostering relationships built on collaboration and commitment. The experience embodied the very spirit of Coalitions & Collaboratives (COCO).

During my time with COCO’s Community Navigator Initiative advisory committee, a U.S. Forest Service (USFS) partnership helping communities access federal wildfire resilience funding, I had the privilege of reviewing applications for the Community Catalyst Fund. TWP’s proposal stood out. Their vision for the summit was not only well-developed but deeply equitable, ensuring free registration, lodging, and meals for all Tribal participants. More than just an event, their plan aimed to bridge longstanding gaps between tribal communities and federal agencies, focusing on long-term capacity building through USFS support. 

Without hesitation, I selected their proposal and recommended it for final review and approval, excited to see it come to life. Yet, as is often the case with grant funding, the transactional nature of the process meant I would likely never see its impact firsthand. Too often, there remains a deep disconnect between funders and the initiatives they support. Still, I followed TWP’s journey—admiring their work from afar, rooting for them loudly, and, in a way, feeling like a part of their family without them even knowing.

To my absolute delight, I had the rare opportunity to attend the summit in person—an experience unlike any other. The gathering brought together 14 Tribes, spanning from First Nations along British Columbia’s North and Central Coasts to Indigenous communities and Pueblos of the U.S. Southwest, welcoming nearly 200 attendees from tribal organizations (114 participants), nonprofits, academia, and federal agencies. Over the course of the event, we learned from forestry practitioners, policymakers, emergency responders, grant funders, conservation communicators, and youth development leaders. At the heart of it all was what should always be the priority—elevating Indigenous stewardship, recognizing autonomy, and honoring traditional ecological knowledge.

This experience was exceptional not just because I, as a grant reviewer, saw a funded project materialize beyond a written proposal, but because I was immersed in a space where Indigenous leadership was at the forefront. Unlike typical conferences, where I often stand out from the larger demographic, here, I felt the deep significance of being part of an event that truly centered Indigenous voices—not as a token inclusion, but as the guiding force.

On day one, I served as a note-taker during a World Café discussion, where powerful voices spoke on storytelling in Indigenous land stewardship and inter-tribal collaboration. Resilience was a defining theme, as was the crucial role of Indigenous knowledge in strengthening relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities. As one participant put it:

“We are the land, the land is us.”

In the following days, I participated in a field trip exploring forest management work. Standing in the landscape—dry terrain, ponderosa pine forests, thick fire fuels, and the close intersections between the Mescalero Apache Reservation, the town of Ruidoso (a place deeply tied to conservative values), and Lincoln National Forest—was a striking visual of how thin geographical boundaries truly are. It was also a reminder of the critical relationships needed to protect communities from devastating wildfires.

This is something a funder who remains detached from where their dollars go, will never fully grasp. Without direct engagement, grant-making risks becoming a routine task—a checklist item—rather than an opportunity for meaningful immersion.