I've been reading a fascinating book called Black Elk Speaks. It's a sad and beautiful, first-hand account of the history of the Lakota Sioux. One of the things the book speaks most clearly about, and incidentally that I've always loved and envied about North American aboriginal cultures, is their historically intimate connection to the earth.

These were/are people who did not simply tread unconsciously upon the planet or wantonly consume its resources, but who felt the earth was alive and everything upon it and within it was imbued with a spirit that was to be cherished and honoured. That's a nice way to live. And it's little wonder to me the languages of Native peoples are so full of poetry when describing natural phenomena.

Lakota calendar names, for instance, seem so much more descriptive and, indeed, meaningful than those of the Julian or Gregorian calendars. They named the passing months or moons according to what they saw happening in the world around them. The names are very specific descriptors.

May is "the moon when Ponies lose their hair." December is, "the moon of Popping trees" or "the moon when Deer shed their horns." January is "the moon of Frost in the tepee." Takes a little longer to say maybe, than April, May and June, but what's your hurry? And it seems so much nicer.

I realize that a lot of folks don't live in an area where "frost in the tepee" is an issue and there are very few deer left in downtown Toronto, but when July and August roll around, do we have any more of a real connection to a couple of long-dead Caesars? In March, when kids are whizzing down frozen slopes or chasing naked co-eds through Daytona hotel hallways, are they contemplating the Roman God of War? Hardly.

I think it might be fun to rename our months. Why not have regional calendars with names that really told you a lot about what was happening where you were?

April, for instance, is tax time in this part of the world. So why couldn't April become "the moon when people lose their hair?"

December could be "the moon when credit is overextended." Spring in the suburbs could be "the moon when a winter's worth of dog-poop is revealed." A rankly humid July in Toronto might aptly be called "the moon of the stinky subway cars." September might be "the moon when parents rejoice." And June, notoriously report card month, might become "the moon when the children have long faces." I like it.

Likewise do I think Native Americans have it all over us when it comes to personal names. Swims like an Otter, Dances with Wolves, Sitting Bull; these are wonderful monikers that tell you oodles about the person you are talking to.

My name, Neil, is a nice enough handle, but it really says very little about me. Now, if my mother had named me "Farts in the tub," "Can't tie his shoes," or "Pukes on the Ferris wheel" ... you'd have a much clearer idea of who you're dealing with. And isn't clarity the beginning of understanding? I think Black Elk would've agreed.