Gratitude makes the journey better and so does kindness

Month: September 2014

It’s A Done Deal – But Did You Know About It?

Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday, September 19, 2014.

On September 12, 2014 the controversial Canada-China Foreign Investment and Promotion Agreement (FIPA) was ratified by the Harper government in a secretive manner, blatantly unbecoming of its important nature and long term consequences. Harsh criticism by many, loud accusations of a major sellout and the chills of having our country’s values betrayed once again by a government that seems to forget its true mission, that is all part of the package.

The sad part is that few knew about it until it happened. It makes one wonder how much of what is important to our well-being as a democratic country we know and how much do we have a say in.

The Hupacasath First Nations legally challenged the treaty in a Court of Law when it was first announced in 2012, arguing that such an agreement violates the constitutional rights of Aboriginal people. While the case managed to delay the signing of the treaty, it did not stop it. Nor did the solid facts provided by Osgoode law professor and global authority on investment trade deals and international arbitration panels, Gus Van Harten, in a letter to the Prime Minister, urging him to reconsider the terms of a deal that he deems unfair to Canada.

Yet a strange level of secrecy made the treaty seem almost surreal to the busy citizens like you and me wrapped in the stress of everyday life. Some news outlets announced it, some did not, and overall it did not get a front seat with the major media outlets because… well, because it didn’t.

Media and us people relying on it for the daily newsfeed, function in a form of an awkward symbiosis: it’s not the truly worthy news that get the front page because they are not entertaining enough to most people, and the few to whom they are cannot bring up the numbers in a way that counts, financially speaking. More often than not, people want glimpses of celebrities lives, whether they are ill, get married, have babies or die. Sad but true, and double-edged sword; we can shape our society with our choices but do we exercise them the right way? If we don’t someone will make them for us. The very topic of this column is one sad example.

Among other things, the treaty in question gives way to Chinese investors to challenge and possibly even change Canadian laws, should existing laws happen to interfere with their investment plans. Worse yet, lawsuits to address that will not be decided in a court of law in Canada but abroad. ‘Hands off’ never sounded more threatening to a country, its constitution, natural resources and ultimately, its democratic values.

To not know the implications of such an agreement because we were not presented with it before a decision was made should make us wonder about how the upcoming elections should turn out. Being in charge of a country that has so much potential is no light deed. Understanding that today’s decisions shape our children’s tomorrow should make one stand in awe of it and ask themselves: do I really have what it takes?

The Canada-China Investment Treaty has just become the argument that it takes a lot more to keep our national dignity intact. Unlike other investment treaties, the terms are extremely unfavourable to Canada, and there is a high risk of future lawsuits that, should we lose, might just see us pay our sanctions in natural resources and large sums of money.

But… it’s a done deal and so it will be for the next 31 years, with a 15-year minimum term. Toss it and turn it on all sides, that’s a long time to be locked in any form of agreement, more so when your treaty partner has a clear upper hand.

In a democratic society, this kind of agreement should’ve taken all pro and cons arguments in, from all members of parliament and from the general public.  None of that happened.

The press release that accompanied the signing also mentions the sectors of interests for the Chinese companies that want to invest in Canada: mining, oil and gas extraction. If you’re still rattled by the Northern Enbridge pipeline indignity, the treaty will seem more lugubrious than ever because once October starts (treaty comes in effect starting October 1), who knows what lies ahead.

We should not oppose treaties, far from that. Our history is witness that treaties work; they helped build Canada into what it is today. If we play it right and fair, if we keep it good for Canada. If our democratic values and sovereignty are respected by the leaders who oversee the signing of any treaty, our leaders that is, then other countries will sign their part knowing that we do not sell anything, but trade.

Advantageous to both parties, that’s how treaties are defined. History has plenty of examples of fair treaties (two-sided, benefiting both parties) and then plenty of examples of unfair ones (one-sided). We’re old enough to know the difference.

Fairness and transparency are never to be taken for granted, and no treaty signed by our government should, at any point in time, give anyone the impression that Canada is for sale when it’s not.

Speaking For The Trees And More Is No Longer A Trend But A Necessity

Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday September 12, 2014.

It took almost two weeks for the trees across the street to be cut and sliced. There were four of them, all old and showing it in impressive girth, some guilty of a modern-day crime: having grown too close to the power lines.

Many early mornings of loud electric sawing later, the power line pole stands by itself, clear of potential danger. It had to be done, the team on site said. Two trees got too close, and the other two… well, it was decided that taking them down could prevent future problems.

Without pulling any Lorax tricks and jumping out of a stump to speak for the trees, I shook my head and wondered if maybe maintenance of a live tree would not be worth more than cutting it. After all, many a tree come down for various reasons, and some of the reasons support wants but not needs. A quick look at the increasing amount of flyers in our mail box in the last two weeks confirms it.

Throwing them and other bits of paper in the recycling bin offers little if any consolation. Trees came down for me to know that I can get pumpkin spice latte for only $3 during the month of October, or two pizzas for the price of one plus an oversized cookie.

I grew up in a yard that abounded with trees. We had a big pear tree that gave us pears and lots of leaves to clean each fall, a walnut tree that provided walnuts, great climbing and a slight amount of leafy grief to our neigbour’s gutters once it grew too big, many apple and plum trees, and a peach tree that was worth its weight in gold.

The gutter issue was solved by sawing off the rambunctious walnut branches and the tree lives to this day.

I remember my dad’s joy when planting yet another fruit tree somewhere around the yard or on the boulevard. I remember the day he showed me a fragile baby walnut tree in the back yard, proud of having saved it and talking about how it’ll grow into a beautiful one. It did. Many years later the fragile beginnings have been replaced by an impressive crown. My beloved dog was buried under it, my dad thought it that way…

One of the most powerful revelations I had as a kid was when I realized the depth of a simple, vital truth: trees provide oxygen for us to breathe. To live. Many strolls through beautiful forests of various kind later, the wonder of that astounding truth is humbling, more so because I know that we have the tools to terminate a 300-year-old tree but also countless, strong reasons to keep it alive.

Conservation of existing forests and wise decisions in logging should align with that. We need our forests more than ever before, given the increased pollution levels and the ever-growing threat of climate change.

A recent report published on September 4 by Global Forest Watch revealed that 8 percent of the world’s remaining pristine forests have been lost since 2000. Canada leads the way, deforestation-wise, the same report points out.

Tree planters may argue that they have been replanting ad nauseam, a welcome enterprise for sure. Yet it is worth remembering that old growth forests are not easily replaceable if at all. New trees simply cannot do the same as the trees of an old virgin forest that has developed a unique ecosystem over many thousands of years.

It is hard not to ask ‘Why?’ and ‘Why us again?’ in the context of many questionable environmental practices that have put our reputation at risk lately. Natural resources are to be exploited on a need-to basis and only after careful consideration, yet reality reveals the opposite.

This year saw the fisheries science libraries being dismantled, many scientists lost their jobs and many revealed a level of censorship defined as ‘muzzling’, which should never be allowed in a democratic society and in a country that has incredible natural resources that should be guarded in a way that befits their worth.

We hear of increased rates of cancer in areas where natural resources exploitation is at an all-time high yet governmental scientists deny it; we hear of tailings pond spillage that independent scientists classify as natural disasters given the way they affect human health and the environment, yet governmental organizations tell us there is no big danger; we hear of high levels of deforestation from international organizations but not from our own leaders, so it’s only natural to scratch our heads and ask who is right, where does the truth lie and whether our democratically voted leaders are truly watching over us and our country the way they should.

The levels of political interference that prevents truth from being revealed by independent scientists here in Canada should be worrying enough for everyone. Our land carries much wealth inside and out, and harvesting it without a conscience can lead to consequences that will haunt us and many generations to come.

Every tree we look at should become a reminder of the great wealth we were entrusted with by past and future generations alike. It is only natural that we make our voices loud enough and our intentions clear enough to save what can be saved and use only what we need. There is enough science to back us up, starting from the roots up.

Advice To My Sons: Live With Joy

All of itLive with joy, no matter what comes your way, because joy is never to be lost, I’ll tell you why. You were once given to the world, to feel it all, to add to it, to stub your toes against thick knobbly roots and not feel anger but joy that trees exist and you can walk near them. You were given to the world to feel alive as you let your hand caress tall slim grass, smooth sands and waters that come from sky and ground alike, enclosing you in a circle where you cannot lie or pretend as you learn about what life tastes like.

Live with joy and catch raindrops in the nest of your palms at least once because rain was never meant to cause you grief but give life around you and for you. It does that, regardless of whether you see it or not, but if you do, you’ll stand astounded by the miracle of it all.

You were given to the world with joy, thus you must live in ways that will let joy be seen in you wherever you go. Live with joy so you have nothing to hide. It’s with you. Joy. It’s in how you start the day. Or how you end the day before. Remember that yesterday and today become the ground your soul feels before your feet trace the first steps and your eyes are peeled open by morning light.

Be joyful for the slimmest sliver of daylight that tickles your eyelids and for the furtive glimpse of shadowed stars as sleep steals you away for a bit. Make joy a constant thought you braid with gratefulness; they feed on each other. Do it every day, because every day brings gifts. Not all come with ribbons and beauty. Some will make you cry, some will hurt as you open them, but please, hang on to joy, you’ll understand why later on.

WorldsLive with joy. It gives you reason to forgive when forgiveness is what you have to give, find joy in the humble act of understanding it. Live with joy; it’s what will help you build boundaries that will keep you safe and your dreams too. Be joyful so you can understand what matters in life. Start learning it early. It’ll keep you grounded when the going gets tough, because it will. Joy will be the moonlit path that will lead out of the darkest scariest woods.

Take yourselves places where joy grows wild. Don’t ask where that is, you’ll find them. There is a place like that for everyone. You’ll be overwhelmed by the mirrors in which you will see yourself, your naked soul, reflected in ways that will make you understand life and your own place in it. You’ll understand how joy and tears are never too far from each other. It’s where you will find me. It’s where I’ve been plotting all along to meet you, since the first day I knew of your existence. It’s yet another place where we learn of each other’s depths and dreams.

Live with joy, because when you do, you grow wings that will take you high enough to never taste bitterness, resentment and unkindness. Joy leaves no room for that. Live with joy and you’ll find the right people to share that with. Simplicity

Simplify your life so you can see all the colours your were meant to see and hear the whispers of even the quietest of hearts. Make joy the key that will open doors you were meant to open. Remember that people’s hearts are doors too. Never force your way in. If you live with joy, you’ll be safe from that.

You will know that it is not perpetual smiles I wish for you when I urge you to give in to joy, but the ability to understand that as you should feed on it, your wings will grow strong and ready into stormy skies and cloudy grey mornings, just like they will soften and give in to the warm glaze of many sunrises and sunsets. Joy will see to that. You’ll grow tired of flying at times, of coldness and bleak horizons, and then, just the same, you’ll blush with the realization that your heart expands with every day you tell yourself ‘I have what I need to keep on going.’ That is joy; because you chose to live with it. So keep at it, it’s the right way to live. It’s what I wished for each of you the day you struggled to open your eyes to the world for the first time. You don’t remember it, but what you first saw was joy. All there could be. I thought you ought to know that. Now you do.

Because You Came Back

MorningIt was past 6.30am and the forest was silent. As if to tell you that you’re too late for the night swoosh; now they’ve gone to bed, all the critters unseen who own the path you’re stepping on.

The ground is padded with moss and lichen, all dry, all thirsty for water that might or might not come any time soon. Water is precious here. Dry crunching steps make you wonder if you’ve come too soon. You came to see the green. Dry is not enticing enough. Dry is dead. The forest argues that is not with a flap of wings and a rushed squirrel that stares long enough for you to know the forest is alive after all…

TransformDead is not here. Dead is not what you’re stepping on; old wood, soft as melted chocolate, that is not dead but transforming. Welcome to the forest. Have you forgotten? Keep on going, you’ll remember if you keep on going…

Crick, crack, your steps give you away. Creatures shy away in burrows one step away or a hundred, you’ll never know. You are the visitor now. Stop. Listen. Wings again, wideness you can read in distant flapping, wideness you can see if you close your eyes and let your mind draw the bird you just hear. Thus is for now the visitor status… Silence, trees that won’t tell a thing unless you stay long enough.

Once Stray away from the path, up and over the knoll that gives way to greener grass. Your feet are silent now, and they take you near old bones scattered among old gnarly branches and you think yourself as prone to the reality of life and death as the creatures who once bore them were…

Signs of human presence further on are somewhat abhorrent; here, now, an insult. The bone yard you stumble across has deer legs, furry with hooves still attached, scattered at awkward angles. They point to death, not transformation, in stark contrast with the grass they lay on and the clean skulls you found on the knoll… A blue ribbon, old and ruffled, marking something no one will know anything about, reminding of a presence that can be intrusive when it shouldn’t. Today you learn, from today onwards you will leave no marks…

The ground is damp here, grass and clover patches alive and bouncing back as you step on them. You follow the path overgrown with greenness and leave the dryness behind. There is more, there always is more, the leaves of distant birches perk up in a shimmering choir stirred by the gentlest breeze.

Rosehip bushes line the path and your gaze stops on each red blob; they punctuate the green space, diving into leafy pages you read as you walk.

Keep on walking, deeper still, the forest urges, you’ll the reason to return. You’ll hear why.

An animal path, a shy ramification of the human-made one, calls for you to discover how creatures find their way, how they dance and fear when you’re not around. They follow voices coming from within. Mystery.

Tock-tock-tock, a woodpecker. High and busy, it becomes the clock that divides time in increments smaller than you thought possible. Stop. Tick-tock… If time scurries so fast, won’t we run out of it too soon? No. You stop, long enough to make it stop. Listen. Time is measured by clocks with hearts, by hasty breaths, by how long it takes for larvae to grow and become food through relentless pecking. Tick-tock.

LifeNow you’ve seen it too. Time. Silence, and all the sounds hidden in it, coming out when crunchy steps give you away no more.  When your heartbeat matches the rhythms of the forest; not because you made it here and stayed long enough but because you’ve returned.

A Taste Of Canada

Originally published as a column on September 5, 2014 in the Armchair Mayor News. 
SilentIt was Saturday morning and the sun was the brightest in a few days. We were planning an overnight hike to a nearby lake, the boys’ first if you don’t count a canoe camping trip we did a while ago.

Six of us, as we had two of our relatives from Europe, hiking enthusiasts who have never been into the Canadian back country. In a very subjective manner, we might’ve mentioned that British Columbia has the best of it. Subjective with a side of love if you will.

We loaded backpacks, fishing rods included, and somewhat delayed by an afternoon storm, started our trip later than planned. We took a forest trail that saw us chat two by two, drenched by sudden rain and amazed at the sight of tiny forest frogs, chipmunks and squirrels. Sudden wing flaps made room for guessing games about the birds we could not see, and so did crunching noises coming from farther away.

We kept our path and hit the lake two hours later. The adventure that followed included hiking through a swampy terrain and finding our way through thickets, thus helping the boys understand what bushwhacking really means. Rain continued, feet dunked occasionally as we stepped over slippery logs, mud abounded, but all six of us kept going.

The youngest of us got to ride on shoulders most of the way because small feet can only do so much in moose paradise. It really was. We found a moose bed and though we didn’t get to see a real one, we knew they were near. Wild and proud, Canada made us mucky travelers humbled to be there.

Our guests loved it, the boys did too (more so after we reached the cabin we were headed to) and we all had the unmistakable feeling of victory as we approached the cabin in what could be described as complete darkness.

CelebrationWe peeled off drenched clothing, the boys huddled in a sleeping bag together for warmth and us adults made a big fire and got dinner going. Restaurant dining and a walk through town would’ve never made our guests see what we truly wanted to show them. Canada at its finest: colours, textures, smells, simple beauty that if seen and felt for real, would make anyone not only proud but willing to work their hardest to keep it like that.

A bucket of stars spilled on the night sky, and we found the brightest ones on the lake surface as well. The chilled air of the early fall was drawing steam from summer-warm lake waters and because dinner was taking a while anyway, we went for a night swim. Try it at least once.

We toasted to great adventures, resilience and togetherness, and then we had a sleep guarded by far away loons and a harvest moon that fit perfectly above tall pines.

Soup for breakfast, pumpkin bread and coffee, complete with fishing and exploring the surroundings. Then we were ready to head back, hoping for a boat to take us across the lake so we can avoid swamp trekking.

Out of the blue, a boat came. We called on it, asked if crossing would be possible and the man graciously obliged. Two by two, we were deposited to the other side, leaving the swamps to the moose, because they do it better anyway.

We asked the man for his contact details so we can repay his kindness. Smiling he said ‘Not to worry, just pay it forward.’ We smiled back and promised we will. We do often; random acts of kindness are the best way to feel yourself human.

We trekked back. Rain and bright sun accompanied us and when we reached the car we knew the trip had become more than we ever hoped it would be. Our guests got to see what Canada is made of. Beautiful wilderness and kindness to start with; two valuable assets we should keep on guarding because they are part of the foundation we build our identity on. It definitely made us proud to say ‘Welcome to Canada!’

Life Like A River We’re Better At Paddling Together

Initially published as a column in the Armchair Mayor News on August 29, 2014. 

Two days ago I wrote an obituary; my father’s. It’s never an easy thing, even when you know that people wanted to move on because suffering was taking too much out of them.

The hard part is seeing the world reshaping itself after they are in it no more. It’s a feeling we learn to fear, and we forget that the rhythm of life could not be a harmonious one unless we acknowledge death is part of it.

The last few days have been a whirlwind of emotions, ups and down of awakenings, staring reality in the face, knowing that it is the only way to do it right.

Through this and many other rollercoaster jolts life had in store lately, clouds crowding a sky I wanted blue and serene thinking it is mine to decide, I was reminded of the one thing that matters the most: I am not alone. No one really is.

My family has been guarding my well-being with love and patience, keeping guard from winds that would’ve kept me down for too long. Close friends made their presence known and felt, ever so gently, ever so unconditionally bringing themselves into our lives, knowing that when we make room for joy, sorrowful as it was at times, the rough seas will let me see the silver lining. They did.

I went through piles of photos, I dug out my dad’s memories, us four, mom, dad, my sister and I, and through telling stories to my soon-to-be husband and sons, and to our friends, I relived a childhood that was magically beautiful and fully belonging to me.

I’ve been sailing many waters since, walking through sunsets that had me tear up or jump high with the expectations of tomorrow. You soar high one day, and then you tumble and dust off your knees the next.

My dad’s passing, preceded by my mother’s eight years ago, reminded me of the journey they hoped and wished for me when they brought me into the world. It reminded me of how my sons came, started their own and of the flurry of hope I padded their wings with and keep on doing so every day.

My dad’s passing was a sad reminder of how nothing is permanent, and that only makes every day worth more than we are often able to realize and it also reminded me that we are not alone. The most cynical of us will say that we come alone and we leave alone, and that has truth to it. Life is a singular affair by default, at the entry and exit points. But the in between does not need to be.

I have friends holding my heart through this, and I have the kind of family I wish upon everyone. They are present because I let them, because I no longer hold the secrets of life to myself and by doing that I open up doors that all of us know the contour of too well.

There is a wealth of goodness in people around. They open up arms and hearts and through hiccups of discovering who’s in for the long haul and who is not – a necessary part of it all, we learn that being alive is something we never do alone, and it should not be. We all have stories we carry around, we all need to share them because when we do, we give permission to others to share theirs and we find that though details may differ, we build life towers with the same building blocks, we see the same sunsets and sunrises, we love and let go, and through it all, we keep on going no matter what because going while someone is there to share the journey makes it all better.

Losing people we love dearly hurts, it always does and the pain may grow dull but it will never go away. There will be times when you want to throw in the towel, when you think it all unfair, but through the thick of it all, the silver lining makes itself seen brighter than expected: it is all worth it, every moment of it.

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén