The one upside to this topsy-turvy world is an increased awareness to the dangers of complacency—apathy is much easier to fight after seeing how quickly and intensely lives can devolve.
Telus wants to build a ten-story cellular tower in the middle of our very small town. More precisely, smack dab in the middle of a residential neighbourhood, at the edge of a small protected forest surrounded by schools, homes, a church, several parks and day-care centres. The mayor and city council are against it; the citizens are against it; our provincial MP is against it. And yet the federal government has given the go ahead, its minister—Navdeep Bains— apparently refusing to even answer repeated phone calls from all parties involved. Money talks, always.
So on Sunday we gathered the kids and we marched. Our two teenagers weren’t crazy about the idea (of course), our youngest proudly raised her sign as high as she could—but in the end I think they all got it.
Honestly, three years ago we probably would’ve signed the online petition and stayed home, content in having contributed the bare minimum to our civic duty. Now however...there are lessons to teach.
Shot with the X100F
This morning I woke up, looked at the news and something strange happened: I suddenly felt completely empty. If you’ve followed this blog long enough you probably know how I feel about the current situation in the US. I’ve been consumed by dismay and a deepening sense of horror ever since the very first MAGA rallies. But as terrifying as these were in 2015-2016, the case could be made at that point for Clinton fatigue, for resentment towards a broken system and a willingness to gamble on Trump almost as a form of nihilistic resistance. It made no sense to me, personally, but I could still understand the undercurrents fuelling this reaction. I don’t anymore. That is, not unless I accept a reality too hard to bear—that humanity is incurious and willing to accept demagogues if they feed their egos and dangle fake shiny baubles. That we are unkind. That we haven’t learned a single thing from history.
On the eve of a watershed election in which I have no voice, I should be up in arms, devouring polls, biting my fingernails. And yet, nothing. I’ve turned off the screens. I’m looking away—I’ve seen and heard enough, I guess.
I published a short essay entitled RUBICON on KAGE today. Images shot in Vancouver last week, words I wrote over the last couple of days, in anticipation of tomorrow’s vote.
Here’s to hope.
Shot with the X-T3 and XF 35mm f/2 R WR
Jacob is fifteen.
The sun hides
& my heart skips & scatters,
every few beat lost to another rhythm;
October speaks in muted words
of impending twilights
October invades and overwhelms