Room with a view

All right, not exactly a room, but wow, what a view! Lucky for me, it was my turn to play passenger, riding in the cab of our funny little RV (yes, the same one we crossed the continent in eight years ago, click here to see where we were on this date in 2011), on our way home from a mini-holiday.

The view is from the bridge spanning Deception Pass, a treacherous stretch of water on the Washington coast. Not a place I'd want to try navigating a boat, but an excellent spot for a beautiful state park.

We spent most of our away-time in and around Port Townsend, a town that places a high value on the arts as a basis of its attraction for tourism. There seems to always be something artsy going on there, but if there weren't there'd still be enough in the way of attractions, even with just looking around at the town's Victorian architecture.

It's a gorgeous town, to be sure, but sometimes it makes me a bit sad over the way we seem to put so little value here on historic buildings, and the importance of preserving them.

But spending time in nature (offline, hurrah!) was the most important part of the getaway. And staying in state parks was very comfortable, with beachwalks and hikes on scenic outlooks all part of the drill. One of the highlights (okay, I'm probably strange) was seeing a family of sea otters humping their way along the high tide line at dusk.

Now that I'm home again, I'll be keeping my eyes open for all that's beautiful around here too -- even if it's not quite as spectacular as the ride over the turbulent waters of Deception Pass.

Let there be...

...light, of course. Yes, bring on the light. 

I usually think of Winter Solstice as being the time to look for the return of the light, but this year, I'm thinking about it with the return of spring. 

This year's Vernal Equinox, tomorrow afternoon at 1:58 (PDT), will be only a few hours away from another of those super-moons we've been seeing -- this one apparently the last for 2019. 

What qualifies the full moon as 'super' is not how big it looks (face it, the moon is always the same size, though light amplification can change how it appears), but its brightness. So yes, more light will shine on us -- the light of spring and of the super-bright full moon. 

Already it seems extra bright. Both last night and the night before, the moonlight poked around the corner of the bedroom curtains and woke me. But no, waking because the moon came to say hello, I don't mind. 

On Saturday we attended the opening night of an art exhibit that's all about light, Luminescence, this year celebrating its fourth year. 

The range of exhibits was amazing, from a 'waterfall of light' that could serve as a wonderful colour-changing light fixture to a steam-punk octopus with an oversize light bulb for a head. There was a chandelier made of empty medicine bottles and a rainbow parade of animals in Lucite that seemed to be marching past, like the phases of evolution. 

Because it was the opening night, there was even a special performance by a man who twirled blazing batons and lit up the faces of everyone watching, enthralled, in the back yard of the gallery. 

But the showpiece that brought people in from the street was no doubt the metal-and-neon 'dragon' who, when his lever was pulled, 'breathed' fire. 

And with all that light -- especially with the sunlight that makes me feel that spring is here -- I even managed to wash most of the windows, getting rid of the wintry layer of grime. So now that beautiful light can make its way inside too. 

Disturbing

Events of the past few days make me think of what Obi-Wan Kenobi says when the planet Alderaan is blown up: that there's been "a great disturbance in the force."

That's how it's felt, with altogether too many deaths, both global and personal.

The globe-shaking event has been the deaths of 157 people on the Ethiopian Airlines flight. So many of the victims were involved in humanitarian or environmental causes. Today's newspaper headlined their profiles with the tag, "They wanted to change the world." No wonder the UN called its members to stand and observe a moment of silence. 

Yet there've been even more deaths -- what might have to be called a spate of them. Thursday alone was the day one of our best known poets Patrick Lane died, just days shy of his 80th birthday, a day when his family planned to celebrate.

Sadly, he wasn't even the only one to go that day, not even the only poet. Carl Leggo, a poet and teacher at UBC, a man who inspired many Vancouver writers, succumbed to cancer on the same day.

Perhaps more quietly, at least with less public notice, the son of a longtime friend died that same day -- of the identical cancer as his mother, right down to it appearing in exactly the same spot.

So the weekend was one of sadness and remembering. But this particular rift in the force hadn't yet finished announcing itself.

Yesterday morning, Joe Rosenblatt, yet another of our country's great writers breathed his last. He'd been ailing for a long while, but still, no one was ready for this. His publisher was in the final stages of printing covers so he could bind Joe's new book, Bite Me! The only blessing in Joe's passing is the fact that the first review of the book came out on the weekend, and hearing that a friend had taken the time to read it to him.

As for the rest of us, certainly, we go on. But not without feeling saddened, diminished. Even the hellebore's blossom, outside this morning, looks as though it too feels the need to grieve.

PTSMS?

It's been in the news that a hockey player who was considered a good prospect for the Canucks has shut down several of his social media feeds. His reason -- because he was getting too many 'hateful' remarks from supposed team fans. And to think it's barely days since we observed the annual 'pink shirt day'.

While I can't say (touch wood, I guess) that I've had exactly the same experience, I do have to say I can understand the hurt -- and yes, it's because of something I saw on social media.

It was, I suppose, another example of my too frequently paranoid thoughts, but when I saw a negative post the other day (one with no specific name in the complaint), I managed to decide it was about me.

I knew it would be a bad idea to post anything in reply, that it was something I needed to think through and not respond to in haste. But that didn't help me get me through the night without a lot of restless tossing.

Since then, I've addressed the matter of the post -- privately, and not via social media -- and I'm happy to say, all has been resolved. It was just my misunderstanding.

Nonetheless, I get the fact that it doesn't take much to cause hurt to another person. Like the sign above suggests, pain can be caused -- intentionally or unintentionally -- 'by a line.'

A name for this condition? If we're going to get it out in the open, it probably needs one. How about PTSMS -- that is, Post Traumatic Social Media Syndrome (or Suffering)? Because, if it's named, maybe we can make it go away.