Good morning, Earth

This past weekend was, for many, a time to celebrate the ideas of resurrection and rebirth.

For us, it was a weekend away, camping in our own comfortable way.

What better place to be able to observe the inevitable recycling of life than in the forest.

Happy Earth Day!

Poems on the clock

You'd never know it, if you were judging by this blog of late, but I'm a person who's good at working to deadlines. I'll admit, there've been a few distractions recently.

Still, this past week saw me involved in two events that made me responsible to a deadline. The first was an event at Vancouver's Jewish Community Centre. I'd been invited to read poems as part of an art show. The trick was, I had to write new poems, ones that were based on the paintings in the show. In other words, I had to write to a deadline. Somehow, I came up with seven short pieces, none of which will likely stand the test of time. Still, I did what I needed to.

The other poem 'on the clock' was creating an entry for the weekend's 48-Hour Poetry Contest. This event, sponsored by CV2 Magazine, has been a part of my April weekends since 2002.

For that one, I was in Australia, travelling through the Blue Mountains, reliant on finding a cybercafe so I could participate in the contest. This was early days for public access Internet, at least that's how it felt in any small town in Oz. The one I found was in the back room of a Thai restaurant, so I had to abide by their hours -- all the while doing my best to pay attention to what time (and day!) it might be, back in Winnipeg, headquarters of the contest.

I survived then, and I survived this weekend too. Always a bit frantic, but always plenty of fun.

Fare thee well to someone dear

This is a photo of our wonderful uncle, Octavian, standing beside his beloved linden tree -- a tree that provided many offerings for the herbal tinctures and salves he made.

This morning, we received news that Octavian had died. But oh my, this was a man who knew how to live!

When he raised a glass of wine in cheers, his greeting was nearly always an enthusiastic 'Happy Birthday!'i

Because he is a strong believer in the existence of a wonderful afterlife, I find myself needing to wish him a "Happy Birthday!' with hopes that he has indeed been born into the place where he hoped he would be.

A coming out, of sorts

Today is the anniversary of my arrival in Canada, a country I came to by choice. That was an awfully long time ago, forty-five years to be exact. Startling.

All of my adult life has been spent in this country. I earned my university degree here, I had a sort-of-career (or, at least a long-term job) working in public schools, mostly as a teacher-librarian. My kids grew up and went to school here. I say 'zed' and watch hockey. I've learned to appreciate curling.

I make a mean butter-tart -- and every Christmas make 'em by the dozens. The only passport I've ever had says I'm a Canadian citizen. This is the only country I vote in. I'm even a reasonably well-respected member of Canada's arts community and have works published in books like the one above.

Yet now, the country where I happened to be born (trust me, I had no say in the matter) seems to be coming after me and my kind, claiming we need to file taxes there. Because the fines they're threatening are hefty, it seems I have no choice but to comply. Comply. Hmm. Isn't that the word the Borg used when they sucked away an individual's consciousness?

This makes about as much sense to me as if the Pope were to phone and tell me I have to start going to Mass again and that I better start saying thousands of Hail Mary’s to make up for all those years I missed doing so.

It's hard to imagine that the U.S. would tolerate similar claims being made by Canada on people who went the other way. Can you say "Alex Trebek"?

So here I am feeling disgusted and disheartened. Some way to celebrate an anniversary, eh.

Worth it, eh?

The last of Canada's troops have left Afghanistan, with a sorry toll to tell. One diplomat and 158 soldiers, male and female, for a total of 159. Too many.

Earlier this year we learned that Veterans' offices in many parts of the country were being shut down, and already we're seeing the sad results. Two suicides in the past week -- deaths that should have been preventable with proper support services in place.

But rather than ramping up services to veterans, our brilliant government wants to celebrate the Afghan mission. Apparently they already did some hurry-up focus group work and determined that a ceremony observing the 12 years on duty in Afghanistan would not be desirable as part of Canada Day celebrations in Ottawa.

So instead, they've set May 9th as the day when the country will 'honour' these veterans.

But funds for this observance will be taken from operational budgets for the military -- sort of like giving someone a medal, then telling them they'll have to pay for it themselves. As Joyce Murray, Member of Parliament for Vancouver Quadra has put it, it looks like "...prioritizing parades over people."

And where did the May 9th date come from? It's the Friday before Mother's Day, so maybe it's supposed to rub salt into the wounds of those mothers whose daughters and sons are dead or wounded or scarred. Or, maybe 5/9 is as close as they could get to a date with the number 159 in it.

And wait a minute, whatever happened to our role as Peacekeepers?

It's been a week for resignations. First, Jim Flaherty. Then today, Alison Redford. Maybe Steve could get off the plane long enough to do us a favour and follow their lead.

Green, green

This morning, I swear, green was in the air. The scent of soil and growth was so strong, I thought I could 'taste' green.

The robins were whizzing around the cedars, no doubt trying to find the best spot for this year's nest.

To top it off, by a stroke of good fortune, I caught the sound of Elizabeth May's voice on the radio. Now, how much greener could a day (and not yet St. Patrick's Day) be?

It's over

Last week meant another round of Canada Reads. I know I'm not the only one who looks forward to this annual debate. Face it, it's a tradition, and the place where I've discovered several books I'd never heard of before. Most notable of those would have to be Rockbound and lullabies for little criminals.

Since the theme for this year's competition was "One novel to change our nation," the book I figured would (and should) win was Margaret Atwood's Year of the Flood. It's the second in her three-part dystopian trilogy with its predictions of GMO-ed just-about-everything, including people. I thought that might well be the best book to shake things up, maybe even get us thinking about getting off the oil teat sooner than later. And really, with Stephen Lewis defending it, I figured Flood was a shoo-in.

But it turned out to be the first book voted out -- gone at the end of Monday's discussion. I guess my choice was based too much on my particular biases -- some of the things I think we need to change to save ourselves -- like stopping all this mucking around, playing God with genes. 

Still, Wab Kinew did a masterful job of convincing the committee -- and listeners -- that Joseph Boyden's The Orenda was the book to bring about what we most need, reconciliation. And really, if a book could accomplish that, who could possibly complain. 

Censored!

Canada's Freedom to Read Week takes place annually during the last week of February. Dates of this year's official observation ran from February 23rd through today.

The strangest part of writing about this is that no matter which route or back door I try to take, I'm unable to open the Freedom to Read website, thus no link embedded in this post (for future efforts, their site is generally available at freedomtoread.ca). Every time I go there -- even just trying to check on scheduled events -- I get an 'authentication required' box telling me to fill in a user name and password. Huh??

On Wednesday, I was part of a Freedom to Read event at the Gibsons (BC) public library. (I'm relieved to see that their link at least still exists.)

Readers at the event presented portions of books that have been challenged for various elements of their content. These ranged from a children's picture book, Maxine's Tree, to Margaret Laurence's Jest of God and The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls.

As I always do at these events, I presented news items I'd gathered over the course of the year, including one reporting on "a slump in global media freedom." This article stated that, of the 197 countries and territories rated, Canada ranked 29th, a number that didn't give me much cause to cheer.

But to me, even worse than this is the fact that our government -- while not exactly banning materials -- is limiting (to put it kindly) access to materials in DFO libraries. Seven of these libraries across the country, many of them holding records going back over a century, are having their materials "consolidated," a move that has been labeled by many as a "disaster" and a "national tragedy."

As if that isn't enough, this country's scientists -- especially those who study environmental concerns -- are being prevented from speaking out or publishing.

So, it's not too surprising that winners of this year's Freedom to Read Award (presented by The Writers' Union of Canada) went to scientist Eric Marshall, namesake of the Eric Marshall Aquatic Research Library, one of those DFO libraries that's been shut down. Co-winner of the award was Chris Turner, author of the book, The War on Science: Muzzled Scientists and Wilful Blindness in Stephen Harper's Canada.

It will be interesting to see what news next year's Freedom to Read Week will bring. It'll also be interesting to see when that website will again be open for anyone to view.

Okay, enough of this winter thing!

This little snow guy seemed to be waving as I walked by, as if saying one final Hurrah for the Olympics and Team Canada.

You can trust me, I wasn't cheering when I woke up to this surprise dump of snow. Barely the previous day, I'd been cursing myself for not having my camera along -- so many hellebores and crocuses were showing their pretty little faces.

This morning has restored my faith -- not only in the beauty of nature's many faces (even snow), but also in reminding me that spring truly is on the way.

It's not all that easy to see, but towards the end of this little video, you'll see what looks like a glittery sprinkling of fresh snow. Only, that's not what it is. It's a tiny little avalanche falling down from the branches of the cedary forest that is our front yard. Frozen confetti, celebrating the end of winter.

Beyond the Olympics

After more than a week of watching too much tv (but hey, the Olympics only happen every four years), yesterday meant it was time to get out of the house for some other kind of event.

Okay, not all that different an event, still it wasn't on tv, it was live. Our local hockey team, the Surrey Eagles, had a game on Sunday afternoon.

After standing in some of the worst weather we've had in months, we finally got our tickets and entered the arena.

Not packed, but full enough -- especially considering the weather and the line-up on tv -- the place had a nice atmosphere.

Between periods, when the Zamboni came by, little kids jumped up and down as if it were the best part of the game.

No concerns about security or overpriced souvenirs. Nobody complaining about judges who might be unfair. Nobody even complained much when the home team lost.

All in all, the real thing: sports as something to be enjoyed.

Too many questions

...not enough answers.

Too often, my head is full of what-if's and how-come's. There've been so many lately, I haven't been able to bring myself to write a simple post.

We've had such a string of sunny days lately, I've wondered why we don't see ads for solar power set-ups. Why there don't seem to be any subsidies to encourage us to go in that direction. Why, when we know that oil is a finite resource, we aren't at least starting to explore other options.

I've also noticed that for the duration of the Olympics, the CBC isn't permitted to offer podcasts of the news. Oh, I know it all has to do with the sweeping corporate powers protecting all things Olympic (I probably wasn't even supposed to type that word without previous clearance). Still, I wonder what the next corporate power will be that is able to enact similar restrictions, especially where changes to our Elections Act appear to take so much power away from the body that's always been there to protect voters.

And now, my questions are more difficult. A very dear friend has informed me that she has cancer. The word I can't get out of my head is the one she used, inoperable. So the thousand-and-one questions that are in my head today are ones that truly don't have any answers.

Time for forgiveness

Although now that I have that title and a blank scene staring back at me, I find myself examining the word 'forgiveness'. It looks as though the word was made 'for giveness' -- for the purpose of giving.

And if I haven't lost you with that convoluted piece of an idea, it seems that we are in a time when forgiveness is in the air.

Maybe it's because we're shedding one skin as we depart the Year of the Snake and moving into the Year of the Horse (tomorrow). Maybe it's because enough of us are starting to wake up to the fact that all we've got is each other, so we better find some ways of forgiving each other and moving along in more positive directions.

Last Saturday was the dedication of Joy Kogawa House, an important Vancouver heritage site, as a place of reconciliation.

Speakers at the ceremony represented a diversity of perspectives, ranging from victims of sexual abuse and torture to those who contributed to the victimizing. Powerful is certainly one word to describe the event.

In the midst of it all stood the bravely quiet Joy Kogawa, drawing names from a box, calling people forward to bear witness to what they or members of their family had experienced -- or done.

And now this week, Pete Seeger, a man who never wavered in speaking out and singing about the principles he held fast to, has died. I love the words written on his banjo: "This machine surrounds hate and forces it to surrender."

Even the roots of the tree that grows in front of the Kogawa House
seem to be reaching out, as if extending a
hand in conciliatory friendship.

Or perhaps in surrounding hate and forcing it to surrender.

This is what compliance looks like

Well, it's been a long road, but our house has finally joined all the others in our neighbourhood, and now bears a 'smart' meter instead of an analogue one. If you look closely at the photo, you might see that its sign-in logo reads 'i-Tron'. It's not an i-Phone or i-Pad, but looks to be my very own virtual world of a video game (whichever film version you prefer, 1982 or 2010).

The saga has gone on since 2011 and has involved meetings, letters, online groups and altogether too much time, especially in light of this, the end result.

To give him credit, the installer was to date the most mannerly person I have dealt with over the course of

this story. And when I asked him whether he had any sort of job security, his answer was the unsurprising 'no'. That he didn't anticipate he'd be employed much longer, as they are now installing meters at many of the homes where we were holding out for sanity. Thus, his position (just as the jobs of all those meter readers) will disappear as being 'redundant'.

He also didn't seem to mind when I said I needed to go inside to close down the computer. He agreed that such action would be a good idea. The way they were slapping these up on their first time 'round, I doubt whether I would have been afforded that sort of luxury.

Even though I explained that my partner is an artist who'd hoped we'd be able to keep the old meter, for use in a project, he said he wasn't allowed to leave it behind. Hmm. Somehow I thought we'd have paid for it by now. Where will it end up? The landfill??

Anyway, we went as far as we could with challenging this bullheaded corporately dictated change, and finally gave up when their bullying went over the top and seemed to turn into out-and-out blackmail.

All we can say from here on in is the usual, I guess: Onward.

WWNYD?

Yesterday and today have seen (heard) Neil Young talking about his current tour, Honour the Treaties.

After visiting Fort McMurray, he's speaking out about the oil sands, and how our government is letting the world down with its pro-oil actions. He claims current government actions (and inactions) are in violation of long standing treaties with Canada's First Nations.  

Rather than having so many workers reliant on the oil patch, he'd prefer to see people employed in jobs developing clean energy sources. 

And it sounds as though his grandchildren are a big part of his reasons for all that he's saying and doing.

Young was a feature interview this morning, and video will air on Wednesday night's The National. 

He urges people to seek out the facts for themselves. Sounds like we all have a responsibility to do exactly that.  

Sign for a new year

When I saw this sign painted on the road, I thought, Wow, there's a good idea -- for all the pedestrians who forget to look when they're crossing the street. Since they're always looking down, fiddling with their devices, they might even see the reminder to "look".

Beyond that, I think the image provides a reminder to find ways of looking at the world in fresh ways. Rather than only looking straight ahead, consider what's coming from either side. Who knows what you might find?

Part of this idea of looking at things differently requires rethinking priorities, figuring out what matters most and trying to ensure that those things are what gets the best of our attention.

I've recently been introduced to the ideas of home architect, Sarah Susanka. She's all about 'small' rather than 'big' and has a number of interesting ways to make not only our homes, but our lives, more comfortably livable. She recently presented a TED talk on ways to rethink our lives. If you can spare 13 minutes, here's a link to that talk.

Or, a shorter experience, but again an example of doing things differently, this time the annual Cooperative Poem, as published by Leaf Press.

With wishes for a happy and productive new year, one that's full of fresh ideas and better ways of doing things.

Books: the year's best titles

I'm not kidding when I say the best titles, as that's exactly what I'm talking about. A few of these are books I've read, but truthfully, one of them is a book I've never even held in my hand (or, for those who prefer the world of e-life, downloaded).

I would have loved to include Words the Dog Knows, only it was published way back in 2008, so I can't really count it, even though I only got around to reading it this year. It's a fabulous title and a pretty darn good book inside as well.

I think a lot of authors were inspired to better titles after Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time came along (an excellent read, by the way, worth digging for).

Still, contenders for this year's Best Title include:

The Oil Man and the Sea -- not only for its delightful punniness, but for its timeliness and courage, speaking out about the precarious times we are experiencing in BC and exactly how much is at stake.

We Are Born with the Songs Inside Us -- it's hard to beat the sheer beauty of these words in combination. Besides, this book holds some good news for a change, as it's Katherine Gordon's gathering of hopeful words for the future of First Nations Peoples in our country.

Another book with a beautiful title and wonderful insides is Stephen Reid's A Crowbar in the Buddhist Garden. A collection of Reid's writings from prison, it's a book you won't soon forget.

One that I still hope to get to is Milk Spills and One-Log Loads (and we think traffic is hazardous today), written by a fellow who began his career as a truck driver when he turned sixty. This guy's life sounds like one that won't be repeated unless something puts us back into horse-and-buggy mode.

And my list wouldn't be anywhere near complete without the inclusion of Douglas Coupland's latest, a title distinguished by its use of punctuation. Worst. Person. Ever. Despite the fact that not everybody likes this book, Coupland continues to hold appeal for me. Sometimes, with his irreverence and steady pointing out of the world's ridiculous ills, I think he's become my Kurt Vonnegut surrogate. The book was one of my Christmas presents, and I've purposely made it last to today, which happens to be the author's birthday, and he's turning the magic number, 42. (Er, no, bad arithmetic. Make that 52.)

Read any good titles -- or, for that matter, books -- lately?

Merrrreeee...

reeelax-mas.

The gifts have been opened, the mounds of glorious food consumed. All's well.

Time for a break. Time to slow down to recuperative mode. Time to be thankful. Time to enjoy the last few days of the year.

Here's to doing plenty of nothing for a while.

In darkness

It's the time of year when the darkness seems to want to take hold. Not only on the sky, but on life itself.

The light has been elusive, with today's sun finally rising at 8:01 and then setting again at 4:14. How many people spend their entire workday inside and miss the few hours of light? Go to work in the dark, come home in the dark, do it all over again the next day.

It hasn't helped the mood of things that government officials seemed to be running amok, out-Scrooging Scrooge with their meanness. Immigration services grabbed a man who'd spent the past 37 years of his life as a contributing community member on a small BC island. That story has at least seen a temporary resolution.

And though he's now apologized, when he was asked about child poverty, Minister of Industry James Moore remarked that it probably wasn't his "job" to feed his neighbour's children.

Another story -- and one that unfortunately still remains unresolved -- is that of Rodney Watson. He's the US war resister who's been in 'sanctuary' since September 18, 2009.

For being the season of supposed generosity, it's hard to see much of it in action.

Maybe with Saturday's Solstice, the light will be begin to return on more fronts than merely the sky.  

Brrrr...

Freezing. The temperature on our little weather station is one that we don't see very often, especially not exactly zero-point-zero.

Only now it's even colder than it was. No one can pretend it isn't winter around here. It's been cold for about a week now, colder than I remember it being. Mind you, that may not mean anything, as I'm pretty good at blocking bad memories, cold being one of those conditions I like to avoid (and thus, forget).

When I put gas in my car the other day, I thought it might be a good idea to wash my windscreen. Only thing is, the squeegee wouldn't come out of the bucket where it's kept. The water had frozen around it, making a

veritable Popsicle of it.

Since then, the temp dropped further over the weekend, but has 'warmed up' today to a whopping -2 C (29 F). In fact, it's warmed sufficiently that we're getting a little bit of snow.

Pretty though that may be, I am hoping it doesn't decide to accumulate.

Looking to some facts from The Canadian Weather Trivia Calendar, I find that things certainly aren't as cold as they might be -- that on this day in 1906, it was so cold in Lethbridge, Alberta that the sheep "started eating the wool off each other's backs" and that the situation became so bad that ranchers had to make "them coats from sacks to help them survive." And yet, despite this, "About 25 sheep died a day." Temp that day was recorded as -32.2 C. According to my trusty conversion website, that's -32.96 in Fahrenheit. Yikes.

So yes, I will stay inside today, not too far from the cozy fire and write some more of those Christmas cards to friends around the world -- in places both colder and warmer than my thermometer tells me it is here.

Happymess is...

Not quite Santa's workshop, but a great place for cutting and pasting and getting a head start on Christmas. 

This is the time of year when my office gets taken over by stamps and stamp pads and little bits of paper. It's become an annual tradition to make cards with a good pal of mine. 

She and I started off on this adventure about five years ago, but then we only had about half-a-dozen stamps and a few samples of decorative papers. Since then our supplies have grown, but so has the diversity of the cards we make. 

Besides, making the cards is FUN. So, early though it may seem, we've already started enjoying Christmas in our own cut-and-paste happy-making way.