Qualia
Winter. 1984. Our breath was visible in the still December air as we worked together to build an igloo. His skill level in this area was far more advanced from mine, the form and function of the snow blocks he constructed provided an actual foundation for our structure that wouldn’t collapse under its own weight, whereas mine weren’t even suitable as ornamentation. But that was okay. I was more of a supervisor anyway. And he had around thirty years of experience on me.
I hold a very vivid memory of four-year-old me building an igloo with my dad in the park next to my childhood home. I don’t know why this particular moment has stuck out all these years later but from the chill in the air to the periwinkle shade of my parka, I can close my eyes and feel the pieces of the night come together as though they happened yesterday. The sky, in particular, is something I regularly try to conjure. The opaque darkness, visible galaxies and illumination from the moon on the snow were too beautiful for words. As my childhood neighbourhood evolves, and reflected light from the growing city increases, it isn’t a moment I could ever recreate again. Being able to stargaze from my backyard isn’t the only thing lost though. So much of life is chasing a feeling we once had.
When the igloo was complete, I remember throwing a celebratory snowball up in the air. Missing where it fell, I led myself to believe that I flung it so high, it soared off into space reaching those very same stars. And my dad played along.
Fall. 2020. We are several months into a global pandemic that has society collectively nostalgic for international travel and sports & entertainment, not to mention warm proximity to other human beings rather than recoiling in horror as a stranger approaches too close (maybe that’s just me, thankfully my mask hides most facial expressions). While taking an annual vacation (or two) was always something I looked forward to, I honestly have no idea when that will occur again. I currently don’t feel comfortable taking a plane or staying in a hotel, not to mention visiting any busy tourist sites. My trip this year was returning to the place I grew up, Winnipeg, to spend time with my mom and dog and revisit my childhood home through the lens of time.
It should be noted that interprovincial travel was permitted and even encouraged by the government. As well, I took numerous precautions while making the drive which included my omnipresent mask, gloves for pumping fuel, hand sanitizer in every crevice of my vehicle and purse, and pretty much isolating myself to the company of just my mom and dog for several weeks. I did not quarantine as I wasn’t required to, but I socially distanced from anyone outside of the household. My partner is a scientist who has instilled the risks of cross-contamination into me (even before Covid) and I am beyond cautious, prepared and respectful of guidelines.
During my time off, I used the opportunity to try the Japanese art of shinrin-yoku or forest bathing. The ancient practice is a method of enhancing one’s sense of wellbeing through connection with nature, and involves a leisurely walk through the woods while being present and acquaintanced with everything going on around you. With my dog by my side, our daily adventures involved hiking through landscape of boreal, the calm of which was pierced only by a symphony of crickets and the occasional bushy-tailed squirrel scurrying in the underbrush. After feeling like the human equivalent of a flat tire for the past couple months, the peace and clarity this brought me was just what I needed. I’ve had a hard time creating of late–writing, designing, even cooking–and hopefully this was a reset.
Normally during a once-in-a-lifetime event like a global pandemic, I would document things by way of photography and prose. While I have done a bit of the latter, I regret that I didn’t capture some of the unique sights of the first wave such as my colleagues and I hurriedly filling boxes with office equipment after receiving a tight, unexpected deadline to pack up for remote working. Or how every single billboard in my city at one point featured the exact same PPE messaging on it. Driving down one of our main thoroughfares and seeing the repetitive image of a woman wearing a face shield was one of the first times I felt how dystopian things were becoming. Then there was the overall emptiness of a once lively mid-size city that became a ghost town devoid of visible human life virtually overnight. It’s one thing to process tragedy happening in a far away land but watching as the waves approach, shape and affect your own existence is quite another and something most in the West aren’t used to (or willing to accept, as evidenced by the current deadly follies of those believing this to be a hoax).
But in contrast to the stress of our times there were some positive insights as well, such as the realization that I share a home (and my heart) with an individual that is truly selfless and caring, and that in the decade since I moved away from Winnipeg I have created a wonderful new family of friends and neighbours that supplement all of my human needs for connection and belonging in the most trying of times.
Stargazing with my dad as a kid left an imprint on my life. Now I live in the land of living skies.
Somewhere between earth and sky, I’ve found my home.
All buckled in and ready for adventure (©2020).
Covid signage erected at civic parks in Winnipeg (©2020).
My favourite place to escape and connect with nature– La Barriere Park, south of Winnipeg (©2020).
Monty getting his fitness on (©2020).
My ham, Monty, and I on one of our daily hikes. Monty’s taco fiesta harness and matching leash from Canadian company Blue Paw Co. Support local (©2020).
Time capsule portrait for 2020. Mask handmade in Canada from Econica. Support local (©2020).
Book Recommendations
I’ve been binging the work of Chris Ware of late. Maybe because it’s been a depressing summer in a relentlessly depressing year but his craft of masterfully illustrating the minutae of life, frame by frame, through happiness and heartbreak has provided a strange sense of solace as the days of our lives start to feel both repetitive yet unpredictable.
Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid On Earth
This is Chris Ware’s first work and is often regarded as revolutionizing the graphic novel medium. The tale centres around a meek, awkward character fearful of change and the unknown who lives a routine life of social isolation (outside of the relationship with his overbearing mother). As the story unfolds, Jimmy receives an invitation to meet his father who we learn abandoned him years earlier. The impacts of intergenerational trauma are explored against a time-travelling backdrop that goes back to the gorgeously illustrated Chicago World’s Fair of 1893. Jimmy Corrigan is probably my least favourite of Ware’s output but presents a good starting point to truly appreciate the later achievements of Rusty Brown and his magnum opus Building Stories.
Favourite line: “One’s memory, however, likes to play tricks after years of cold storage. Some recollections remain as fresh as the moment they were minted. While others seem to crumble into bits, dusting their neighbours with a contaminating not of uncertainty.”
Building Stories
Whenever someone asks me for a book recommendation, this is at the top of my list. It’s not so much a book, as it is an experience – a completely immersive visual, tangible and emotional journey through the lives of several individuals who at one time lived in the same apartment. At one point, the narrative is even told from the perspective of the building itself. I reviewed this back in February 2014 but bought it again after sharing my copy because it is THAT good.
Favourite line: all of it is a masterpiece. It is one of my top three books of all time.
Rusty Brown
Rusty Brown is Chris Ware’s latest and continues his study of regular people living regular lives, the secrets we keep and the unspoken desires we covet. It is a collection of comics about a few different characters who all intersect for a short time at a high school in Omaha, Nebraska, and how their interwoven journeys carry forward in time. There is a palpable ennui emanating from these pages; as with all of his work, the artwork is stunning but the emotional impact of the story itself is what remains with the reader. You don’t read Chris Ware when you want to feel good. You read his work when you simply want to feel.
Favourite line: the tale of “W.K. “Woody” Brown” and the soul-crushing glimpse into settling into a life of longing and regret.
Before grooming (©2020).
Your Occasional Monty
After grooming - and a treat! (©2020).
9,000
It’s been six months since I first heard of COVID-19. As was my ritual, I’d watch the evening news each night before heading to slumber and noted reports of a new, mysterious coronavirus identified in Wuhan, China. I didn’t pay it much attention, continuing to plan and book a holiday to Newfoundland that, in an alternate universe, I would soon be taking. Within a few weeks though, the tone and urgency of messaging changed and I understood the ramifications of human ignorance as cruise ships were left stranded at sea without port and countries called upon their military to help with the sheer volume of the dead.
Just six months later, updated daily death counts on the same newscast are normalized. It’s a strange detail to a strange reality. Even stranger is how little people seem affected by it. Whether through deliberate avoidance or willful denial, a large portion of the population doesn’t appear to be humbled by mass death. Meanwhile, I’m low-key drafting my will. I often wonder how this will be processed and reflected upon in the decades to come. I feel a major part of the discussion and dissertation will revolve around society’s dependency on the structures of capitalism rather than community and our subsequent increasing separation from the natural world.
As of this writing, there are just shy of 9,000 lives lost to COVID-19 in Canada (679,000+ worldwide). Those are nine-thousand people who have family and other loved ones mourning their loss. Nine-thousand individual stories of life that go beyond being a number on a counter. And that nine-thousand statistic includes people of all ages and socio-economic backgrounds. No one is immune. We don’t hear much of this. Of the plans, hopes and dreams cut short. A lot of what we see has been dehumanized by design, for detachment and convenience, but I personally feel it’s important to remember. Being thoughtful towards others, as well as mindful of your own mortality and the fragility of existence, is essential in times such as these. Empathy is a balm.
I’ve been thinking of my father a lot of late. In some ways, the world since his passing would be unrecognizable to him. In other ways, it would be similar in ways only he could truly understand. In his final months, one of my father’s favourite places to visit was IKEA because they had wheelchairs at the entrance available for those who might require them. Not those giant motorized scooters that seniors use to blaze down the aisles of Wal-Mart, but an actual wheelchair that would allow his daughter to walk with him in normal pace while window-shopping couches and bookshelves. While being pushed around an endless maze disguised as a furniture store doesn’t sound like a great time, this respite from cancer treatments and feeling part of society again, no matter how banal, was greatly welcomed. Most businesses and other public places did not make this consideration. Spending time with someone immunocompromised made me realize first-hand how little we, as a society, take into account the needs–physical, mental and emotional–of those with varying health conditions.
Which leads me to current recommendations by health officials to wear a mask in public spaces to help limit the spread of COVID-19 (and the unfortunate resistance of some that it is in violation of their “freedom”, as though one man’s rebellion to wear a small piece of fabric on his face is equivalent to the entire life and worth of someone else). It’s a simple measure that would help people like my father feel recognized, regarded and safe while trying to live during a time when added stress and uncertainty should be minimized. But it is also a small measure to help others as part of your community. Because any one of us may become part of the 9,000.
Grace, a dog I sponsor through Animal Aid Unlimited.
Animal Aid Unlimited
I’ve always had a soft spot for animals. I think part of it was inherited from my father who shared the same sensitivity and kindness toward all creatures big and small. And then there is the influence of pets I adopted throughout my life, such as my three dogs Pepper, Reggie and wee Monty, who have provided such rich companionship and unconditional love that my home feels empty without their presence. Observing an animal’s behaviour makes it hard to not relate the same feelings and emotions that I share, from pure joy of being with the one they love to the sad, expressive stare when bidding goodbye. Our souls are bound with the universal.
Some time ago I came across Animal Aid Unlimited, a rescue organization based in Udaipur, India, that rescues and rehabilitates street dogs. At first, the images and videos they posted on their social media shocked me. But the more I witnessed of the love and care provided for the animals, the more I also wanted to support the cause. The grace and humility of their staff and volunteers are endlessly inspiring and provide a beacon for how I want to live my life.
I also sponsor one of their permanent residents, a dog named Grace. Her story and remarkable transformation can be viewed below.
Visiting and volunteering at Animal Aid Unlimited is now on my bucket list. I feel I could learn so much from everyone there–human or otherwise.
To donate to Animal Aid Unlimited or sponsor an animal, click here.
Places to Daydream About: Churchill, Canada
Even though Covid-19 has changed the world for the foreseeable future, it has not diminished my love of adventure or desire to learn about—and hopefully visit—every corner of this wonderful planet we inhabit. There’s something about the ritual of travel, even certain stresses of it, that soothes me. For my previous excursions, I would spend upwards of almost a year researching a destination and planning the perfect itinerary. In the meantime though, I’ve been focusing on places to daydream about. Places that have captured my imagination in one way or another that are, thanks to Google Streetview, easy to explore from the comfort of one’s couch.
At the top of my virtual bucket list is a place in my home province that I have sadly not had the opportunity to visit yet - Churchill, Manitoba. Located on Hudson Bay and founded on the traditional territories of the Dene and Cree people, Churchill’s settler history is rooted in the establishment of the fur trade. Tourism now helps fuel economic development as the township has branded itself the “polar bear capital of the world”. The vulnerable species treks through civic limits as part of their annual migration. Regular alerts are issued upon sightings; a holding facility contains wayward bears until they can be safely released back into the wild.
Churchill’s tundra landscape offers welcome (or perhaps warning) to the great arctic beyond:
Churchill, Manitoba (©Google)
Made in Canada
As social distancing extends into summer and with no place to go, no place else to be, I’ve been attempting to make my home an oasis of relaxation and comfort. This has included indulging my mind, body and soul with products made by the following small businesses in Canada of which I am proud to support and highly recommend.
Rogers’ Chocolates, based in Victoria, British Columbia, was established by Charles and Leah Rogers in 1885 and quickly became known for their now signature chocolate - the Victoria Cream, available in over twenty-four flavours (my personal favourite is wild cherry). I first tried their confectionary last year during a stop at #YVR and was impressed with the rich flavour and silkiness of their product, as well as their commitment to sustainable business practices and using fair trade-certified cocoa.
Rogers’ Chocolates regularly has a great selection of “sweet deals” listed on their site and offers free shipping on orders over $85.
I don’t smoke and rarely consume alcohol. My main “vice” is my addiction to tea. Of late, I’ve been missing the london fogs and chai lattés that I would pick up daily on my commute to work, a stupid (expensive) consumer ritual that stay-at-home orders are helping me break. Domo Tea, operated from Vancouver, British Columbia, has concocted a decent stone-ground tea that replicates the experience at home.
Domo Tea is available at London Drugs.
I’ve spent a lot of money in an attempt to perfect my skin, most of which was influenced by the beauty industry always telling women they are never good enough. With time, maturity and a greater perspective of my self-worth, I’ve learned that the best results come from what you put inside your body and that expensive products mostly just offer a placebo effect. Having said that, I am impressed with the improvement to clarity, tone and suppleness I observed after trying Youva Skincare. The line is comparable, if not outright superior, to any of the luxury brands I placed hoped in over the years. Based in Toronto, Ontario, Youva is made with naturally-sourced, organic ingredients—no synthetics—to help skin glow. In particular, I love how my combination skin looks and feels after using the glacial clay cleanser and glacial water toner.
Youva Skincare offers free shipping on orders over $50.
Barefoot Venus is a female-led business based out of Kelowna, British Columbia, with a mission to make all of their customers feel like goddesses. They achieve their goal through hand-crafted, cruelty-free products in a variety of heavenly scents. I recently purchased several items from their coconut kiss, lemon freckle and maple blondie line (is there anything more Canadian than smelling like a doughnut?), as well as their highly recommended “All Cracked Up” foot balm. They have definitely helped make shower time feel like a trip to the spa … or Mount Olympus.
Barefoot Venus has monthly offers and ships free on orders of $45 or more.
Fern & Petal is a family-run business based out of Vancouver, British Columbia, that creates handmade, all-natural essential oils and other bath products. Their ylang-ylang essential oil is one of few that don’t make my eyes sting and their coconut-lavender milk bath is the ultimate in self-care pampering. I liked it so much that I ordered more as gifts for friends.
Fern & Petal offers free shipping on orders over $20.
All of this self-isolation has helped me crack into the (literal) piles of books I have sitting around my home, with stories waiting to be heard and pages yearning to be worn. From cookbooks with unmade recipes to being on edge from reading about people living life on the edge, I’ve picked up many interesting works over the years from McNally Robinson. Founded in my hometown of Winnipeg, Manitoba, this is one of my favourite bookstores and has always shown support for local culture and community.
McNally Robinson charges $8 for flat rate shipping on orders over $30.
Planespotting
How strange it is that in a matter of two months, the most commonplace things can elicit such joy. Where once a sky brushstroked with contrails was nothing more than a backdrop, their sheer rarity over the one-hundredth meridian is now cause for studious observation. Where is it going? Who is on-board? Watching as a plane fades from view gives me bittersweet escape to daydream of adventures both past and planned for the future (assuming life resumes to what we knew). Afterwards, I trace the flightpath to assuage my curiosity. The only thing flying now is cargo.
And on May 14, an even more inspiring display in the sky as the Canadian Forces air demonstration squadron—known as the Snowbirds—flew overhead in perfect formation. Soaring over my urban home, it was a sight unseen since I last visited an airshow with my father decades ago and provided a welcome surprise to my new monotonous daily routine. A moment intended to get people through a tough time, they succeeded in their mission of offering solace to Canadians who had the chance to observe their grace.
That high was short-lived as the unrelenting year gave no pause to its hardship.
Praise and Pedestal
A few nights ago, I again had a dream that I was being chased by a dinosaur. This isn’t the first time a t-rex has stalked my slumber, it is actually a recurring dream of mine dating back to childhood that I’ve since grown to anticipate because it’s positively thrilling. In my latest nocturnal vision, the beast’s body was covered in red scales ranging from crimson to burgundy. In comparison to its sheer size and girth, my body was proportionate in scale to a mosquito. Despite this disadvantage, I didn’t run from it. I didn’t retreat. I stood and fought with the might of an army.
Dreams often don’t make sense but sometimes neither does reality.
Life was never easy but there was always the illusion of normalcy that we could naively count on for its moments of relative monotony. Over the past several months, the world lost the comfort that predictability offered. Our new normal is physically distancing, staying at home, adjusting expectations and expecting safety in the smallest of measures. But that seems to matter only to a portion of the population. Increasingly, in the span of mere weeks, a boisterous group is measuring the worth of others for how useful they are towards the machinations of capitalism and willing to sacrifice those in their community as needed to maintain their own comfort. It’s disturbing to watch unfold in real life, in real time. The veil of fellowship is opaque.
Examples of this on the North American continent include the following:
The Mayor of Las Vegas recently conducted an interview where she admitted to offering her city as a “control group” for Covid-19 because casinos were suffering. She was denied from doing so by experts.
Then the President of the United States made the erroneous suggestion that injecting bleach and other disinfectants directly into the body could possibly clean out the virus in minutes. He later stated it was an off-hand remark meant to test reporters and journalists. The continued irresponsible and downright idiotic behaviour of the leader of the most powerful nation on earth is literally a threat to all humanity. All in the name of business. All in the name of keeping dividends flowing and supporters pacified.
And just this week, gun-toting protesters stormed Michigan’s Capital building to demand an end to the stay-at-home order. People are going to die anyway is the common refrain. What they don’t publicly say is “as long as it’s not me”.
In this regard, the United States is far more a wild west shitshow than Canada. For the most part, the response of our elected leaders has been reasoned. But we do have our moments.
“We are fighting against a federal program that is actually paying people to stay out of the workforce right now. I don't like the fact that that is real, but that is real. People are being paid to stay home and not work."
The Premiere of my home province recently had choice words against federal financial support programs to help workers affected by Covid-19. His statement failed to account for the number of people laid off or with hours reduced so drastically they won’t be able to pay their bills through no fault of their own and disingenuously absolves his government of further aid for citizens which is something governments are elected to do in times of crisis. Not surprisingly, he also didn’t reflect on the responsibility of business owners to implement safety measures in the work environment. The ability to do one’s job from home is not a solution for every industry. Since PPE sourcing is still difficult to acquire and without guarantees that employers can meet basic recommended measures to help slow the spread of the virus, employees should have a choice on whether they wish to work in conditions that can potentially become a matter of life or death. That isn’t laziness or cheating the system, which is what the Premiere implied. It’s a valid concern currently expressed by front-line and essential workers, never mind everyone else that will eventually be impacted. Attempting to continue on as normal in a situation that is unprecedented with risk can be a dangerous endeavour.
We all contribute a part in building a nation.
But we also all have a role in building community.
Our “new normal” is probably going to be here for awhile. It may not make sense right now but it is our reality.
We should aim to assist those most vulnerable, not degrade their existence.
We need to adapt to nature, not the stock market.
We should praise and pedestal those who truly deserve it.