Red Cedar

scared sacred

Posted on March 22, 2005 by Megan

i went last night to see a new film by velcrow ripper (someone i have had an acquaintanceship for long enough to remember when he started making this film). scared sacred is the product of five years of velcrow’s life, during which he travelled to the ground zeros of the world searching for the profound inside of the profane, on a simultaneously external and internal quest. during the journey, the viewer is taken to bhopal, kabul, hiroshima, an afghani refugee camp in pakistan, new york city (site of the wtc bombings), cambodia, israel/palestine, and bosnia to experience visually both the devastation and the often inspiring personal stories of resistance, of courage, of spirituality and of community.

infused with evocative and artful film footage, is the narration velcrow offers drawing both on the spiritual and personal lessons of his youth, and those he is absorbing on the journey he shares. it is this deeply intimate thread which winds the film together, drawing the viewer into their own personal reflections and journey for the duration of the film. it is in this space that we meet the women fighting taliban rule by opening secret schools for girls, those who have created a free clinic in bhopal for the victims of union carbide, parents of both israeli and palestinian children killed in the cross-fire who are fighting oppression through compassionate solidarity, and many others….. a tapestry of lives that provide the backdrop of purpose and meaning north american consumer society is so bereft of.

what i didn’t realize until last night is this is just the first of a triology and two more films are to follow – the second currently in production. the themes velcrow is tackling are ambitious – similar to those found in the works of derrick jensen and chellis glendinning – but essential to shed light on in an increasingly unpredicatable world. as we hurtle towards some major shift in planet and species brought on by climate change, or a civilizational collapse, it is this discussion that will bring us to hope if not optimism that through resilience and connection our species may survive even the most unthinkable of moments.

this film is being shown at film festivals and community showings currently but will be released theatrically in short order. it is also available for purchase on dvd (though i’m not sure how you would get your hands on it) – i would highly recommend this film and encourage you to check out the website at http://www.scaredsacred.org. (photo at the top of this post credited to velcrow ripper)

crossing my fingers….

Posted on March 21, 2005 by Megan

is this for real? i put an offer on a home

Posted on March 19, 2005 by Megan

what happens when the lights go out and don't come back on?

Posted on March 17, 2005 by Megan

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i stayed in town last night, went to a physio appointment after work, went for dinner with a union friend and then to firetrap’s place where i hung out with her and the two roomates – talking *late* into the evening. the general theme being the ongoing decline of western civilization and imminent ecological or economic collapse. somewhere in the discussion i realized that pretty much consistently for the past two years this has been a dominant theme in many conversations with close friends – at least those who are open to talking about it. but what also struck me was how little i really do get to talk about the end of civilization as we know it with others who also believe that eventuality is hovering somewhere not so far out of our peripheral vision.

always, i am reminded of the cartoon of the shabbily dressed protester on the street corner with the sign saying “the end is near”, presumably standing there day after day as the world didn’t come to an end…. and this is a fear of perception for me – that i, like that cartoon image am on a fringe, alienated and thus unable to relate to others, viewed as unstable (or at the very least, extreme) due to my unwavering belief in the end times. but then i sit, and talk with intelligent and well-spoken people, who have amazing and creative and unsystemic views and actions about the world – and am relieved to find my solace there (rather than with those coddled by consumption and mass media, who do believe that technology will in fact save us from our own diminished capacities). i am relieved to be a part of that, which i do understand, rather than of a system which despite my participation in it, i am constantly confounded by.

and what of the fact we have likely hit peak oil, that climate change predictions from the highest quarters are becoming more dire by the day (not to mention the salmon in the beaufort sea that do not belong there), that currencies are falling while the oceans are steadily rising? is it a trick of media that makes us passive spectators to our own world changing or is it a steadfast refusal to face the possibility of our own mortality that keeps us from seizing our world back from the corporations before it is too late?

although i have these questions, and sharing our perspectives on them last night kept me entertained for hours of good speculation – i do not really worry about these things so much as wonder about them – wonder about me in relation to them – wonder about these things and myself and other people and the relationship between all of them and really – how it will work out in the end for all the earth’s creatures. at the very least it will be interesting, if not exhilarating, frightening, heart-breaking, and ultimately – liberating.

“one begins to wonder… which will come first – the last barrel of oil, or the last big tree.”
greenink

depression

Posted on March 16, 2005 by Megan

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after much thinking about this i’ve decided to “come out” and admit to the fact that i, woman of positive strength and forthrightness – righteousness and angst…. suffer from mental illness in the form of clinical depression and have done since sometime in my teenaged years (diagnosed at age 15 when i was hospitalised for a suicide attempt).

i have had 3 major depressive episodes in my life – at the age of 15, again at the age of 20, and one i have emerged from very recently. by “major” episodes, i mean an acute phase lasting from 1-3 months (characterized by paralytic sadness, total diminishment of self-worth, and suicidal impulses) followed by a year or more of low-level depression that leaves me angstful, angry, tired, giving my life an uninspired flatness. over my lifetime, i have gained better control over these time periods so that suicidal ideation, something i once acted on, is now relegated to the realm of escapist fantasy (every depressive needs an escape hatch even if it’s never accessed).

depression runs in my family on my mother’s side. as a child growing up, stories told in hushed tones were imparted about relatives literally cracking up and being carted out of their small cabin-fevered community to the local sanatorium for a spell of “rest” (a particularly striking story is the one about my great-aunt mary running through the woods in her nightgown, screaming at the top of her lungs back in her younger years). from the stories i have heard about her, i suspect my grandmother likely suffered from an undiagnosed bipolar disorder, my grandfather and his brothers suffered from various depressive and psychotic ailments, and i have at least one cousin with schizophrenia, and another who did in fact commit suicide.

and of course, there is my mother. from about middle-childhood, memories of my mother are infused with her ongoing struggles with depression, medication, and her abusive marriage – a triumvirate combined to create one very unhappy mom who was prone to short-term memory blocks from the medications. i have only recently realized the childhood futility of trying to please someone who is never happy, who just can’t be happy for any length of time – and the more i think about it now, have a thought that this (along with our very angry father) might be at the core the intense self-esteem problems both my brother and i have faced as we have grown to adults.

i do not blame my mother for her illness, though i always thought it would be infinitely more manageable if she was not in an abusive marriage as well – but those were her choices, borne out of her own crippled sense of self-worth – and thus sadness was an emotion familiar in our household. also familiar was the concept that mental illness was hereditary and there was a good chance i had caught it from the family gene-pool (according to my mother – i was “an angry child and no one knew why” (if you want to know why, see the part about my mother being depressive and my father being a man unafraid to express rage, i suspect this had something to do with it)). i was raised to believe i was emotionally “wrong” in my expression, too intense, too volatile, to expansive in my emotions (both positive and negative – if i was happy i talked to much, if i was angry i was out of control). at 15, when i was hospitalized for an overdose of pills, it was obvious to everyone i suffered from the same genetic malformation that had struck every known generation of my maternal family.

in the beginning, i was glad to be diagnosed and medicated. the diagnosis of depression made me feel good because it validated me as being ill and not just a fuck-up. it was like “see, it’s not my fault – i have a medical condition.” i was put on one course of drugs that gave me nightmares, then another that made me throw-up continually, until finally they found a dosage of something i would take for the next year of my life. i also had a psychiatrist assigned to see me weekly and who sometimes saw the family together. i really don’t remember much about these sessions except that i didn’t want to go to therapy, didn’t understand the point of it, and didn’t trust the doctor (who i’m sure was just fine, i never knew what i was supposed to say to him really – so i just said nothing). then the drugs started to dull me – i mean, really flatten me out – and make me violently ill once again… so that after about a year i stopped them altogether.

i decided then, not only was i better (looking back it is clear i was not), but i was cured for good – and since that time have steadfastly refused any diagnosis of my mental state as being that of one who is clinically depressed – even when i have been fairly obviously symptomatic. mainly this refusal stems from two places – 1) a fear of becoming my mother, locked in eternal sadness and self-esteem problems and 2) a fear of treatment involving pharmaceutical medication.

as a result, i have faced down intense depressions while rejecting a name for them, preferring instead to wander in the wilderness of my mentalscape refusing a map to ground myself in.

this, i’ve learned, is not a particularly healthy way of dealing with depression, and it is only on the emergence from my most recent bout i can see that. in fact, it is only upon the emergence from my most recent round of depression that i can even admit i was depressed, and acknowledge the profound impact that state was having on every area of my life. the acute period this last time spanned about 2 months in the fall of 2003 and carried forward until january 2005 when a timely intervention of homeopathic st. john’s wort kicked out the last lingering despair. even though i started seeing a naturopath in january 2004 every two weeks for counselling, i never was able to appropriately identify myself as “depressed”, preferring instead to think that my symptoms were all a result of ptsd, or some astrological misalignment – and thus only was treated with the st. john’s wort accidentally for another malady – when i could have been treated with it much sooner in the process (or even taken an herbal remedy). my shame, and my refusal to “allow” myself this mental illness which clearly belongs to me, meant i wasn’t able to get appropriate treatement to end that depressive state sooner.

coming out of depression for the first time in many months, is like having a window opened inside of onself, allowing fresh air and light to pour in for the first time after a dark winter. it’s having everything taste better, and having more energy, and wanting to make changes (rather than making them because you feel some obligation to), and also being able to find more compassion and love for other people. it’s like remembering who you are all of a sudden, as opposed to who you have been for the lost time of the depression. in all honesty – coming out of depression feels nothing short of miraculous and i am greatly thankful to have been released from that state.

i am acknowledging this now, not because i need to put a label on everything in my life, but because according to statistics, without treatment i can expect at least one or two more of these episodes in my lifetime. i’m pretty sure i know the things i need to do to avoid or at least minimize this in the future – and that starts with a name, and then a map, and probably a good compass to avoid getting lost in this wilderness again.