Saturday, June 27, 2015
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Don't Kill Us
I've had my heart broken.
Its been nagging at me for ages now. This big weight on my shoulders. It feels like the weight of the world. It is the weight of the world. Its the same feeling I had when I held a dog in my arms and realized she was dying. A sense of slipping lose and helplessness.
Watching a dog's life, as much as watching any other life fade from one's arms is something that will forever resonate with a person, no matter the person. Even a killer feels it, though they may not understand how.
On the boring morning, I saw a trending article on face book. "6th extinction" It proclaimed was happening. A bitter feeling entered my heart. I've had an interest in natural history for some time. Before reading Clan of the Cave Bear and the likes I slowly started researching (and by research I mean gobble up wikipedia pages) on mega fauna long vanished from this earth. The news that we were in a 6th one, with our own hands baring the blood, was nothing short of heart breaking.
I've always had an interest in animals, since I was young, but I was lucky enough to be raised in an area where they still existed and their eyes peered out into our town from the edges of the forest. They were always there, and while there's been warning about them, they made it to the time when we desire to preserve them, despite our fear of them.
Two years ago I moved to Scotland, and I suddenly found myself looking out on a wide landscape. Initially I marvelled at the security I felt when out walking. I didn't have to look for those eyes in the night. Nothing would harm me. Nothing would eat me.
Yet this feeling started to take on a hollow feeling in my belly. I realized the wild I walked through wasn't wild. It was like wandering through the bones of a body ravaged and destroyed. All internal organs were melted away. I often here the words, what about the farmers. So what? SO WHAT? There is always the risk in live and the more that risk is removed the more we forget. The more we forget our humanity and the eyes around us. Besides, there are other ways to adapt, we the creature who has evolved because of our intelligence should be able to figure out a way to save the bloody sheep with out the destruction of another species. Save the sheep. Save our selves. Save our pockets and our purses. Toss the new smart phone and away with the next generation of console? Why do we need more and better there, when the rest of the world, the rest of its in habitants suffer.
A thousand sad faces look out at us and we keep our own persons going, building the environment we believe we are best suited for because we are the only ones who speak. Where are the faces of the creatures around us? Why should we hold our own lives above theirs? You chose between the face of a lion and the face of a man and save the man because there will be other lions, other wolves, other bears. But that man is an individual, because that man could contribute or is contributing to someone somewhere. They are feeding a family and prospering. So was the lion. So were the bears and wolves. So were the tigers, the leopards, the rhinoceros, the whales, the deer, the stags, antelope and reptiles. You forget because they are a wordless face.
I'm not issuing a cull of humanity. Those very words, in so many ways, are part of the problem that binds us. We are to many and still to wild. Grow and grow, and nothing, not even nature herself seems to be able to stop us. None but ourselves.
Its been nagging at me for ages now. This big weight on my shoulders. It feels like the weight of the world. It is the weight of the world. Its the same feeling I had when I held a dog in my arms and realized she was dying. A sense of slipping lose and helplessness.
Watching a dog's life, as much as watching any other life fade from one's arms is something that will forever resonate with a person, no matter the person. Even a killer feels it, though they may not understand how.
On the boring morning, I saw a trending article on face book. "6th extinction" It proclaimed was happening. A bitter feeling entered my heart. I've had an interest in natural history for some time. Before reading Clan of the Cave Bear and the likes I slowly started researching (and by research I mean gobble up wikipedia pages) on mega fauna long vanished from this earth. The news that we were in a 6th one, with our own hands baring the blood, was nothing short of heart breaking.
 |
| The dead and the gone. |
I've always had an interest in animals, since I was young, but I was lucky enough to be raised in an area where they still existed and their eyes peered out into our town from the edges of the forest. They were always there, and while there's been warning about them, they made it to the time when we desire to preserve them, despite our fear of them.
Two years ago I moved to Scotland, and I suddenly found myself looking out on a wide landscape. Initially I marvelled at the security I felt when out walking. I didn't have to look for those eyes in the night. Nothing would harm me. Nothing would eat me.
Yet this feeling started to take on a hollow feeling in my belly. I realized the wild I walked through wasn't wild. It was like wandering through the bones of a body ravaged and destroyed. All internal organs were melted away. I often here the words, what about the farmers. So what? SO WHAT? There is always the risk in live and the more that risk is removed the more we forget. The more we forget our humanity and the eyes around us. Besides, there are other ways to adapt, we the creature who has evolved because of our intelligence should be able to figure out a way to save the bloody sheep with out the destruction of another species. Save the sheep. Save our selves. Save our pockets and our purses. Toss the new smart phone and away with the next generation of console? Why do we need more and better there, when the rest of the world, the rest of its in habitants suffer.
A thousand sad faces look out at us and we keep our own persons going, building the environment we believe we are best suited for because we are the only ones who speak. Where are the faces of the creatures around us? Why should we hold our own lives above theirs? You chose between the face of a lion and the face of a man and save the man because there will be other lions, other wolves, other bears. But that man is an individual, because that man could contribute or is contributing to someone somewhere. They are feeding a family and prospering. So was the lion. So were the bears and wolves. So were the tigers, the leopards, the rhinoceros, the whales, the deer, the stags, antelope and reptiles. You forget because they are a wordless face.
I'm not issuing a cull of humanity. Those very words, in so many ways, are part of the problem that binds us. We are to many and still to wild. Grow and grow, and nothing, not even nature herself seems to be able to stop us. None but ourselves.
Monday, June 22, 2015
Monday, June 15, 2015
The History of McKellar Ontario: History is Made Boring
Often blogs focus on
the large and the name grabbing titles but I want to look at a little
dirt speck on the map of Ontario. Just fifteen minutes outside of
Parry Sound there's a wee village called McKellar. I'm going to tell
you its history.
Please don't run away.
I promise its way more interesting than I first realized, and I grew
up there.
The village is
beautiful. Its small, quaint and pinched between the butt cheeks of
two large lakes, with a third dangling above it in the north end.
I've grown up there, and spent childhood, teenage and adult years
wandering the minimal streets and looking out at the smooth glassy
lake. But I also spent a long time looking at books and papers and
listening to people's story of a distantly dead relative and told me
with a grainy picture of a building that they're great great whatever
built this.
I went to the city and
began studying history because to me, Canadian history is probably
the driest in terms of High school history. There's no Hastings,
Waterloo, Warring states period, Zulu expansion or Vikings. Well there
are a bit of Vikings, but they weren't even interested in us. And
there's not a single 'great man' or woman to be found with their fancy
dates and speeches. I studied all those things, but in my final year,
I studied Victorian socio-economic history.
That is a very boring
sounding word, but I hadn't realized how much economy, trade and
objects as simple as sugar could create such a change, often more
powerful than war and politics. So when I was shuffled back to my dry
little small town with its friendly elders repeating stories of
people building a town, it eventually dawned on me that I've been
looking at their stories wrong.
They're not boring!
Well they are a bit. "Back in my day" tales are condensing and are
just the hem of the boring blanket. But its hard when all you've been
looking at are the same four forested walls all your life. Taking a
step back and seeing where you really fit in the grand cog makes your
history just that bit more interesting. Forget about having your men
become great men and your buildings becoming national monuments in
three hundred years. Forgetting that is the first step to making your
tale a little less boring. Looking at their effort in the grand
scheme of things, not as great men but the vital little parts that
made a whole and built a nation.
Most small towns focus
on plain old preservation when they look at history and my town is no
exception.
They want to put a
plaque for this and sign for that so that when people come through
they'll have the same love and appreciation for these reasons that
their great great grandchildren do. And it is this place that they go
wrong. You can not preserve what people aren't engaged with. They
show you a part of the car, a small fragmented piece and don't tell
you in what context it was created or how the car itself was
important. I am certainly not denying the importance of record
keeping, for that is the backbone of creating the story itself.
So the story I see
instead is how McKellar is not extraordinary, but it was important. Its
location is important, the natural resources that allowed it to last
instead of becoming a ghost town. It tells the tale of rural Ontario,
and the socio-economic battle that was trying to fuel the machine
that was the Industrial Cities, the giant nations that had been their
for so long before.
See next week when I
talk about the logging industry and how plaid will always stand the
test of time.
Monday, June 8, 2015
Fantasy: The Underrated Genre
I regularly feel like I need to defend Fantasy. Those words are immediately sad to me. Why should a whole genre of books, around as long, if not longer than most, be defended?
It starts when I pitch a favourite book, in this example Deerskin, by Robin McKinley. They sound excited until I say the words "fantasy". Their face dips and I'm left trying to explain to them that its a mature fantasy novel. Its sad, because I shouldn't have to. In this example a young woman deals with living in the shadow of her glorious mother, then with her brutal rape and near death experience as a result of her injuries. If it had the name Jodi Picoult slapped on it, that shit would be on Oprah. Instead, its left a difficult and obscure book in the back corner of a store, if its there at all. The idea that a book needs to be placed in a realistic setting is disappointing.
Not since Tolkein has Fantasy had such a place in the spotlight. The likes of Tyrion Lannister, Daenerys Targaryen, and the ever troubled Stark family are splayed across magazines and headline popular newspapers and one of the top Television companies. Its made fantasy not only exciting again, but now for an adult audience.
I suppose it goes with the growing trend of youthful creations now made for adults including: Batman, the Marvel Universe, and Harry Potter.
And it is these three things, I think that make fantasy so unapproachable by those who aren't usually used to it. The fandoms and the subculture. The comi-cons and the kids lined up in their Harry Potter robes and glasses. I am in no way dismissing them. Its excellent to embrace a story in such a whole hearted way. To be passionate about something like a stories of the morality of justice, of working as a team or of kindness and love is better than to obsess over darker, more insidious aspects of the world, and often it helps people cope in the ever changing world.
But the world doesn't look at it that way. Look at the silly people in their silly costumes, and their silly stories. That's not real, that could not happen.
It was never about that in fantasy, and I'm going to come back to Tolkein when I look at this. Of course it couldn't happen, that's not the point. Its an alternative means of exploring ideas, thoughts and perspectives on the world.
It was very much Tolkein who wanted to gear this mythical world towards adults. The post World War 1 & 2 minds were bruised and battered by the horrors of reality. In a fantasy world, he made it safe, and he made perceptions of good and evil, once so clear in the eyes of the Western world, clear again. It unburdens the binds or reality so other ideas and perceptions can be explored with out tripping over things in reality that would be called to question. The mythical sword, the magical ring, the blessed trees and rivers now thought of as foolish superstition in history can once again hold sway over the mind of the reader, and of the characters in the tale.
Of course there will always be a bad apple in the genre. For every best seller, there are half a dozen crap romance novels that just don't do anything beyond entertain. The same goes with Fantasy, but just because the characters wear armour, or little at all, doesn't mean their journey is anything less than the arch of a best seller.
Fantasy deserves as much recognition as literature/literary best sellers.
ALSO DID ANYONE SEE THAT EPISODE OF GAME OF THRONES THAT JUST CAME OUT? game changer!
It starts when I pitch a favourite book, in this example Deerskin, by Robin McKinley. They sound excited until I say the words "fantasy". Their face dips and I'm left trying to explain to them that its a mature fantasy novel. Its sad, because I shouldn't have to. In this example a young woman deals with living in the shadow of her glorious mother, then with her brutal rape and near death experience as a result of her injuries. If it had the name Jodi Picoult slapped on it, that shit would be on Oprah. Instead, its left a difficult and obscure book in the back corner of a store, if its there at all. The idea that a book needs to be placed in a realistic setting is disappointing.
Not since Tolkein has Fantasy had such a place in the spotlight. The likes of Tyrion Lannister, Daenerys Targaryen, and the ever troubled Stark family are splayed across magazines and headline popular newspapers and one of the top Television companies. Its made fantasy not only exciting again, but now for an adult audience.
I suppose it goes with the growing trend of youthful creations now made for adults including: Batman, the Marvel Universe, and Harry Potter.
And it is these three things, I think that make fantasy so unapproachable by those who aren't usually used to it. The fandoms and the subculture. The comi-cons and the kids lined up in their Harry Potter robes and glasses. I am in no way dismissing them. Its excellent to embrace a story in such a whole hearted way. To be passionate about something like a stories of the morality of justice, of working as a team or of kindness and love is better than to obsess over darker, more insidious aspects of the world, and often it helps people cope in the ever changing world.
But the world doesn't look at it that way. Look at the silly people in their silly costumes, and their silly stories. That's not real, that could not happen.
It was never about that in fantasy, and I'm going to come back to Tolkein when I look at this. Of course it couldn't happen, that's not the point. Its an alternative means of exploring ideas, thoughts and perspectives on the world.
It was very much Tolkein who wanted to gear this mythical world towards adults. The post World War 1 & 2 minds were bruised and battered by the horrors of reality. In a fantasy world, he made it safe, and he made perceptions of good and evil, once so clear in the eyes of the Western world, clear again. It unburdens the binds or reality so other ideas and perceptions can be explored with out tripping over things in reality that would be called to question. The mythical sword, the magical ring, the blessed trees and rivers now thought of as foolish superstition in history can once again hold sway over the mind of the reader, and of the characters in the tale.
Of course there will always be a bad apple in the genre. For every best seller, there are half a dozen crap romance novels that just don't do anything beyond entertain. The same goes with Fantasy, but just because the characters wear armour, or little at all, doesn't mean their journey is anything less than the arch of a best seller.
Fantasy deserves as much recognition as literature/literary best sellers.
ALSO DID ANYONE SEE THAT EPISODE OF GAME OF THRONES THAT JUST CAME OUT? game changer!
Friday, June 5, 2015
Sea Kayaking in Glen Uig - The Out Door Sport For Me
Oh man are my bones aching but it was worth it. Went sea kayaking with a friend today from Glen Uig. Went all the way to Peanmeanach Bothy! I love me some lengthy adventures and this one was extra excellent as it was a free experience provided by Sea Kayak Arisaig.
I'd gone to this bothying a few weeks ago with my friends but we walked from the highway. It was a worthy adventure with blazing sun and fresh cooked muscles from the beach.
I enjoyed this way much more and it was quite a surprise when I realized how close it was and how accessible it was by kayak. A large portion of the way, my eye balls were in the ocean oogling the jelly fish as they floated beneath. It makes sea water all the more uninviting when there are little stingers waiting for you. We had a lovely picnic, with smoked fish and fancy cheese packed lunches.
On the way back I was so excited to see three Long Finned Pilot Whales.
One member of our group was convinced they were dolphins and I would have agreed if the thing hadn't come within thirty feet of my kayak. It was so big and dark and grey, with a mark just after its dorsal fin. I looked it up Incredible. It was in that moment I could understand why people believed in great sea monsters. If it wanted to, it could have tipped the boat. It didn't, instead following the rest of its group, three, who made their way further north, breaching distantly.
Sea kayaking is something I will always recommend for the outdoor enthusiast who doesn't want to bash their brains out on rocks but wants some of their own agency in over water travel. If you have your own, its cheap and if not, than the price you pay is worth it with this place as it comes with all the dry proof gear and a really helpful instructor named Izzy!
Some follow up photos to follow!
 |
| My shock and awe at the mighty sea creature! |
I'd gone to this bothying a few weeks ago with my friends but we walked from the highway. It was a worthy adventure with blazing sun and fresh cooked muscles from the beach.
 |
| Photos from the bothy trip from a few weeks ago. Click this lovely writing. |
I enjoyed this way much more and it was quite a surprise when I realized how close it was and how accessible it was by kayak. A large portion of the way, my eye balls were in the ocean oogling the jelly fish as they floated beneath. It makes sea water all the more uninviting when there are little stingers waiting for you. We had a lovely picnic, with smoked fish and fancy cheese packed lunches.
On the way back I was so excited to see three Long Finned Pilot Whales.
One member of our group was convinced they were dolphins and I would have agreed if the thing hadn't come within thirty feet of my kayak. It was so big and dark and grey, with a mark just after its dorsal fin. I looked it up Incredible. It was in that moment I could understand why people believed in great sea monsters. If it wanted to, it could have tipped the boat. It didn't, instead following the rest of its group, three, who made their way further north, breaching distantly.
 |
| The view after the paddle! |
Sea kayaking is something I will always recommend for the outdoor enthusiast who doesn't want to bash their brains out on rocks but wants some of their own agency in over water travel. If you have your own, its cheap and if not, than the price you pay is worth it with this place as it comes with all the dry proof gear and a really helpful instructor named Izzy!
Some follow up photos to follow!
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
How a Dresser Makes Me Feel
If I sit my child hood self back in an arm chair and asked her what the most exciting gift I could get would be, she probably wouldn't have said a key, unless it was for a treasure chest. She would NOT have said a chest of drawers.
But I was, and I am. At 25 I find myself putting on a new set of boats. Homes are a thing I've struggled with the most when it comes to change. Transitioning into a new place, or trying to make a space for myself, I've always found something about it harder. Harder than moving to the other side of the world.
On my birthday I was given a key by my furry other, a gift better than any other.
But recently I've been struggling to find a place to belong, being between places and not really having a place for myself in either. My clothes either in a backpack, folded in a nightstand, or just in a wee pile on the floor.
Now I have a place for them. It does make the cramped room more cramped, but he's almost done his house reno so soon he'll have his space and I get mine.
Younger me would yawn at the prospect, but then she gets to wear the neat and clean Mother of Dragons and Captain America T-shirts. Younger me gets to shoot arrows and write tales of dragons and adventure. Older me gets to smile and be happy she is as she wants to be. Happy!
Also now I can pile it with books!
Also, that trick where you put the key ring on the button of your pants/trousers to keep them from sliding has worked. I no longer look like a shlub. I am thrilled!
But I was, and I am. At 25 I find myself putting on a new set of boats. Homes are a thing I've struggled with the most when it comes to change. Transitioning into a new place, or trying to make a space for myself, I've always found something about it harder. Harder than moving to the other side of the world.
On my birthday I was given a key by my furry other, a gift better than any other.
But recently I've been struggling to find a place to belong, being between places and not really having a place for myself in either. My clothes either in a backpack, folded in a nightstand, or just in a wee pile on the floor.
Now I have a place for them. It does make the cramped room more cramped, but he's almost done his house reno so soon he'll have his space and I get mine.
Younger me would yawn at the prospect, but then she gets to wear the neat and clean Mother of Dragons and Captain America T-shirts. Younger me gets to shoot arrows and write tales of dragons and adventure. Older me gets to smile and be happy she is as she wants to be. Happy!
Also now I can pile it with books!
Also, that trick where you put the key ring on the button of your pants/trousers to keep them from sliding has worked. I no longer look like a shlub. I am thrilled!
Monday, June 1, 2015
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)