Red Cedar

…is what my life feels like right now

Issues in my work unit, fending off airplane-induced illnesses, windstorm anxiety, the approaching anniversary of the arrests, the birth of anna’s son, social niceties, impending holidays, union negotiations, speaking engagements, an interesting new person in my life, the constant noise of downstairs renovations, and a whole lot of driving….. No wonder I’m having a laundry crisis and there is no food in my fridge.

And up until yesterday I could say – well at least I’m going to be mostly around home for the next several weeks, but… oh, whatever. All this handwringing and the reality is I’ll get through it just fine. Despite the hectic pace I’m feeling pretty good at the moment – organized, competent, clearly moving on a bunch of things that give me a sense of self-worth (work, activism, social relationships). What I’m missing most right now is creative space, though I think my upcoming schedule is relaxed enough to allow for a little of whatever it is about that I need.

There will be better words here soon, I promise.

(Wednesday morning, Ottawa)

Morning newspapers are grim with Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq – deadly all these days with bombings, with martial law. I refuse to read it most days – the news being little more than packaged indifference to atrocity. I am not sure what is worse, the events themselves or the fact no one really cares that they are occurring “over there”. Yes, yes. The world is not fair. But why, indeed does it have to be so unfair? So damaged, so angry, so far from love?

A friend of Joe’s is dying of something terrible and freakish – something that has been on my mind for the last few days – a twisted joke played in the midst of an already-terrible situation. I try not to envision either man – the one struggling to live against the cancer which is taking him piece by piece – the one who disappeared almost two years ago trying to find his lonely way in a desert nation* and wishing he could come home. Brothers who will not see the other now because of all the cruelties circumstance could muster. There is nothing in that but teeth gritted against the tears that threaten.

And so it is, the large atrocities of war, the small atrocities of living – and injustice seems knitted through it all. Love unreachable, connection impossible.

But I am not quite grim as all that really – though I probably would be without those who have been propping me up lately. Interdependence. Community. Connection. Friendship. For these facts I feel lucky, as though I am cradled against the worst of it for the fact I can make a phone call or ask for a hand to help me step out of the muck that threatens to drown me at times. At odds with my own life, I am struck by what I have to be grateful for while at the same time pierced acutely by what I have lost. Or is that the message? Do those states just go together like that?

These days I am not afraid of myself or my emotions – even as I traverse these dips and valleys. The other night, while grappling with something difficult and in tears, I thought to myself a prayer – “Please help me to feel this as it should be felt, and let me get through it just the same.” I do not desire to eliminate this heart – the one which has given me the gift of sight as much as anything.

I wrote not long ago about the sensation of containing everything – every emotion – and honestly, this has not ceased since I said it to myself. I feel giant. I feel like every breath takes in everyone around me – for happiness and sorrow both.

I am watching the first few flakes of snow here and in wonder at the fact I will fly home tonight to such a different caress of rain and salty air. (Perhaps this notebook is my only true home anyways). It is cold here this morning and I am aware of what lies between now and the local airport. At least I know that I will be met there by myself. As always.

* I don’t actually know where Joe is, but FBI reports put him in Syria about a year ago, so it’s where I’ve placed him in my mind for good.

This trip has definitely been one day too long. Or two even. I’m tired and I feel like I haven’t stopped talking for the whole time I’ve been here. Someone is getting their money’s worth anyways.

As usual, there’s lots going on in my head but I seem to be tired to the point of inarticulate tonight. I found out yesterday that Darren has been moved (it’s on the BOP website, he’s at the Oklahoma Federal Transfer Center) and he’ll be moved again at some point in the next month. I’ll be sending out an update to his list on that shortly – but for those of you who read this blog, please hold off on sending books until he’s at his next stopping point. Letters though. Send letters! I’m just too damned drained at the moment to do much more than send him short ones and we’ve been having trouble with phone calls since I returned from Salem a month ago. I can hardly wait for late next summer when at least I’ll have one person less to deal with prison-side. The official release date is now August 14th – which gives me a bit of space to get things ready in the house for his return. I’ll be looking for a double bed of some sort and a clothing bureau over the next little while as well as bedding and other little things to make his small room comfy – so anything free and in good shape would be more than welcome.

As I mentioned when I got here, I’ve been unusually homesick this trip – missing people, wishing I could go to Victoria to see Anna’s new little one, sad about some news I heard a couple of nights ago regarding a friend of mine who is quite ill. On the plus side, I went for a visit at Patty and Gabe’s on Saturday night and met their son Santiago who is now 2 and a half (which means it’s been over three years since I’ve seen them). They moved up to Ottawa about a year ago and I’ve been wanting to connect with them so as to re-establish my friendship with them and make a social connection here so I have some sanity to visit with. They are very lovely women from back in my old TAO days… and it turns out we’ve still got lots to talk about.

Although I probably say it here enough – I’ll say it again – the more I spend time around people who I don’t relate to in any significant way, the more my gratitude expands for the significant connections I do have in my life. Besides seeing my friends here, just the fact that I have people around who I can phone to cry to or vent at or just talk with really makes me a lot less alienated than I would otherwise be.

My plans upon my return involve more union meetings on Thursday and then (finally!) a retreat to a cabin in the woods for the weekend with a friend. Although it necessitates a bit more travel, I am encouraged homeward by the idea of being close to big trees for a few days, having the opportunity to curl up beside a warm body, and some respite from cities. Oh. And the ocean. Too bad it’s too cold for a swim. But the rain at least will give the excuse to do little except loll about and be cozy. That’s what winter on the coast is all about right?

I’m packing tonight and thinking about coming home to the big cedar tree and a cup of good coffee. Luxurious this life, as I am often reminded.

The other night I was talking to my friend Brian and he asked me “What would you do if you didn’t have to work?” And I was stumped. Like, besides read and take pictures and write a bit more? I’m not sure, I said.

And then he told me what he would do and it reminded me that as little as three years ago I had a whole set of dreams for how I wanted to live my life differently. Somehow I had forgotten all about the piece of land and the communal living set-up and the alternative health stuff I wanted to do back then. (His vision, interestingly, was not so different from mine – it’s just that he seems to still be in touch with it). I seem to have stopped thinking about what I want to do, and shifted instead to what is right in front of me at any given time. Which I suppose makes sense when it’s all I can do to keep my days straight from one to another – I have stopped making the space for visioning. That’s just how time passes – I know – and it’s a wee bit scary.

This process I’m involved in with the union is going to take some time. My job has got me wrapped up in two places at once. I’m pretty sure that my animal being isn’t happy like this, but I keep reminding myself that it’s not forever. It’s just right now and it’s probably even for the right reasons.

Another conversation I had this week with my friend Michael helped me with the perspective I’ve needed to keep from being too angsty with this feeling of life moving away from me…. When I realized that perhaps the only point… beyond being successful or being right or being good looking or whatever the hell this is supposedly about… is to help each other out. Not me and him specifically, but all of us all the time. And if I reframe what I do in those terms then I’m a lot more relaxed about it – because as crummy as the union movement can be, I am also aware of a great many occasions when I’ve realized that it does help an awful lot of people live better lives, and become even more compassionate people.

It’s just that everything you do seems so small until you see it through the eyes of someone you’ve done it for – and we don’t often get the chance (as individuals or as organizations) to glimpse that view. A part of the curse of being raised privileged in a society that sells illusory choice is that you actually grow up thinking that someone you are supposed to live up to the potential set by every single other person – and while some people seem able to shrug that off – I find it impossible to stop making myself think of new things I *have* to do. It’s not enough that I’m working two jobs and traveling all over the damned country, writing every day and making art on the side, writing three letters a week to political prisoners and making time for the people I love – I am down on myself for not starting a novel too. Yeah. That would be some over-achiever complex.

It’s not as if all the doing makes me feel better. But connecting with others does…. And I suppose that’s a good goal for when I return home and get off the road for a bit – to take time for rest, time for people in my life, time to make space for what’s really important – at least while I have the chance.

The nice thing about photography (as opposed to writing) is that it is somewhat straightforward to look at work from over a couple of years and determine whether it has improved – whether the technique is more on, the shots more interesting, the camera more steadily focused. And I honestly think that mine has improved tenfold in the last year or so. Or at least, I get more good shots than I used to and am more quick on the draw when it comes to changing settings and readjusting the tripod.

In the last few months, I’ve been particularly interested in evening photography, which has given me a new appreciation of the quickness of shifting light. I had never noticed before that the shades of an evening sunset are ever-moving – and what is bathed in beautiful orange light can return to grey within seconds. It necessitates knowing a camera well enough to set it up quickly and keep changing to keep pace with the light. As winter comes on, the window shortens a great deal and the rush to shooting is that much more dramatic.

Tonight I decided to go out at the last minute and catch the sunset off parliament hill since it has proven to be a good venue for me in the past to practice working with light in particular ways – lots of dramatic ironwork and windows and a great colourscape on clear evenings. I have to say, that even though I felt hurried to get shot after shot in the dwindle of the day, I got several of which I am quite pleased colour and composition-wise. I have posted a small handful at my flickr account to document this one more fading day.