Heidi Greco's Blog, page 12

Thinking about our planet on Earth Day

When founders established Earth Day back in 1970, I wonder whether they dreamed the observance would still be going in 2023. I also wonder whether they imagined that this far in the future (53 years later), we'd be no closer to protecting the health of our planet than then. 

Trees keep coming down -- here where I live, it seems faster than ever, with more of them than I can keep count of. And as we learned this week, the promise made by Justin Trudeau in 2021 to plant 2 billion trees by 2030, well, it seems to be just another of those unrealistic pronouncements he's turning out to be so good at making. 

The theme of this year's Earth Day suggests that we 'Invest in Our Planet' and sounds very good, until one stops to think who it is that currently IS investing in the planet, and who needs to START investing more in our Earth. 

I admit it, I'm still driving a gasoline-fueled car, and I've even taken a jet within the past year, so I can't claim to be innocent when it comes to contributing to climate change. I suppose all I can continue to do is bear witness to what I see and hope that those 'ethical investments' in my small investment portfolio are indeed going to some cause or start-up that might be helping to make a difference. 

A Seven Year Emergency

Those look, I suppose, like two case for glasses cases. Only they aren't. One contains items that may well save a life.

Today marks a grim anniversary here in BC -- one for which there's no celebrating. It's been seven years since the province declared poisonings from toxic drugs as a public health emergency.

I guess I've always thought that an 'emergency' was a situation that had to be dealt with promptly. But I don't find anything prompt about an 'emergency' that is allowed to go on for seven years. 

Once I believed that it took seven years for us to completely change our skin -- that the 'old' skin would slowly be replaced by a fresh new set of cells. Seven years seemed like a very long time, and to me at least, it still does. 

To date, over ten thousand people have died. Some accounts reckon the number to be 11,000 -- no one knows for sure, as not all such deaths have any official stated cause. 

Not long ago, a letter to the editor used an example of other mass deaths, plane crashes. Their position was that if over 100 people a month were dying in plane crashes -- and that this had carried on month after month for years -- that the government would have found a way to put a stop to that many 'accidents'. 

While here in BC we at least now have some easing of drug laws, we know that this is not yet enough. 

About our only hope to date has come in the form of Naloxone kits which are distributed free of charge from most pharmacies. If injected in time, this drug can save lives -- or at least buy some time until the paramedics arrive. If you get a kit, here's a video that will show you how to give the injection. 

If you're courageous enough to watch some informative news coverage, here's a link to a story that tells it like it is, and even cites the number of calls paramedics have dealt with at over 200,000. 

The only ones not minding this reality are the dirty dealers and backyard chemists who think it's okay to make and sell poison so they can line their pockets with money. 

All of us can only wish that this is an anniversary that won't need to be repeated, though at the rate change is happening, that's probably a very faint hope. 

The Joys of Celebrating National Poetry Month

The theme for this year's National Poetry Month is Joy, so it's fun to think of the many ways poetry brings joy to people. 

Last week, I was part of a group who spoke as a delegation to Surrey's City Council in celebration of National Poetry Month. The presentation is about twelve minutes long, but in case you'd like to see some or all of it, here's the link to our presentation. 

That stack of poetry books beside my springtime tulips represents some of my favourite recent reads. I'm especially joyous over the fact that Susan Musgrave's latest collection, Exculpatory Lilies is a finalist, on the longlist for this year's Griffin Prize. The shortlist won't be announced until next week, on the 19th, but I certainly have my fingers crossed, as I think it's an amazing book (and apparently, I'm not the only one -- here's a review from CBC Books).

Musgrave's husband Stephen Reid died in 2018. And then, in 2020, was gone. 

The poems are some of the bravest I've ever read, as many of them deal directly with the problems both Stephen and Sophie shared. Yet despite the sadness that prevails, Musgrave's wonderful sense of humour shines through like sunlight poking through the branches of a forest. So even in the midst of a book that in many ways is an extended elegy, joy comes our way. 

Find a book of poetry to poke your nose into, and while you're there, seek its joy -- and then, maybe think about finding a way to share it. 

Vindication!

A confession: I have always been a messy person. Despite that, I can generally find what I'm looking for quickly, but to anyone else, that pile on my table probably looks like nothing more than chaos. 

But last weekend, hurrah, the Globe and Mail ran an article (with the beautiful image above on the newspaper's front page) about how such habits aren't really so terrible at all. 

One of the instances author of the article Mark Pupo cites in his defense of clutter is that of the overprotective parent wanting to ensure their child's room is clean clean clean. My dad gave that a try, but clearly, he failed. About the only thing he accomplished was making me cry. 

Recently I've been working on a poem about my messiness, kind of an apology I suppose. It starts with the words, "If Marie Kondo came to my office, she would probably cry."

Only it turns out that even the 'only-keep-items-that-bring-you-joy Marie' has had a turn of heart. What happened? She had kids, and oh gosh, but sometimes kids make a mess. Yeah. 

And in my case, even some of us supposed grown-ups do too. Happy face time. 

A balancing act

Today's the day the Earth does its twice-a-year balancing act. Earlier this afternoon, we experienced the vernal equinox, that special event that marks (for those of us in the Northern hemisphere) the beginning of spring.  

But that isn't the only balance I'm thinking about. For one thing, a number of banks seem a little shaky these days -- even ones in Switzerland, traditionally the most secure (and quiet) banks in the world. It wasn't long ago, though I can't put my finger on where (maybe in a film I saw?) but I heard a line that really resonated: "It suddenly struck them; they couldn't eat money." Which leads me to thoughts about the balance we need when we think about 'developing' farm lands for industrial use. Huh?!

Today also marks the day when China's Xi and Vladimir Putin are meeting in Moscow. It's hard for me to think that much good will come of this. Super-power meets super-power, but it looks more like power-over-others than any kind of balance. 

And the one that faces all of us, today's report from the UN on just how urgently we all need to act to save ourselves from the worst effects of climate change. 

It seems just about the only balance is the one the planet marked today, achieving that perfect angle where day and night are equal. 

As for all those other kinds of balance I keep hoping for, I guess my local graffiti artists say it best: Dream. 

And the winner is...

What's the best thing about a film festival? Besides all those hours spent in the magical darkness of a cinema, maybe the popcorn. 

As a lead-in to this year's Oscars, we went on a road trip to partake in a film festival. (The lengths -- and kilometres -- some people will go to in the name of seeing a bunch of movies!)

Though I must admit that the festival's theme of resilience meant we saw some pretty hard-to-watch and overall depressing films, I don't regret for a minute that we went. 

One of the hardest for me to watch was Decision to Leave mainly because I'd just finished reading a book that was all about police procedures, and here I was stuck in the same loop again. Even tougher was the grindingly sad film set in Ukraine, Klondike, definitely not about the gold rush, but about Russia's 2014 seizure of Crimea. 

The one I appreciated the most was Rebellion, a documentary about the group Extinction Rebellion and their protests in London, England. Powerful stuff about dedicated, courageous folks -- and not without a sense of humour, an element I appreciated. 

By week's end it was time for the Academy Awards, and although I thought too many awards went to a single film (another time, another discussion), it was wonderful to see Canadian director Daniel Roher win for his documentary on one of the heroes of our time, Alexei Navalny. The other moment of special pride was when won the award for adapted screenplay (from Marion Toews' novel, Women Talking). 

For now, I'll have to be happy seeing what films I can at my local cinema or on TV, and I suppose I can console myself knowing the popcorn's a whole lot cheaper here at home. 

Resilient

I can't help but feel sorry for the brave little bulbs that keep thinking it's supposed to be spring. They rise a few inches, and then they get dumped on. Snow, snow, and more snow. That's the kind of February and (so far) March it's been. Earlier today there were a few flakes, but when they stopped, I dashed out on a few errands. Wherever I went, people asked me (I seem to have that kind of face -- people talk to me) what the weather was doing. Every one of them expressed relief when I said that the snow had stopped. And maybe they just heard the relief in my own voice when I told them. 

Whatever, today is supposed to be the day that we all '' towards whatever goal or cause we may bear in mind. I like that one of the things we're supposed to do today is to try something new, especially something we've always wanted to do, but haven't got around to trying. 

So, will this be the day I start looking for online lessons so I can learn to play something beyond one-finger 'Mary had a little lamb' on my little electronic keyboard? Or do I need to think about something more exotic, more difficult? Or should I just knuckle down and finish one of my many unfinished projects. 

If resilience is something I can learn from the bulbs out front, it's probably something I can apply to my own daily life. 

As the date suggests, onward!

Hope in the face of horror

As we approach tomorrow's hideous anniversary of Russia's invasion of Ukraine, I am prompted to do something I don't usually do by posting a poem of my own. 

This also happens to be Freedom to Read Week, so I've been thinking about freedom -- as well as loss thereof, the situation now in far too many countries. Journalists and protesters are being executed in Iran; their colleagues in Russia are disappearing or being sent to prison. 

Thankfully, I remain free to write and publish here in Canada. My poem was included in a collection called Poems in Response to Peril. Proceeds of sales of the anthology go to funds in support of Ukraine. And yes, I am hoping for a resolution to the hideous events that continue across the globe.  

Finding hope

This morning I am feeding the birds, replenishing

supplies in the little cracked saucer, the one that’s sheltered

on the window ledge all winter again.

 

I’m filling it with seeds, still tight in their shells,

ones I hope the birds will disperse, carrying them

far and beyond—sunflowers that will rise up

 

from the broken earth. I am putting my faith

in their sturdy resilience, counting on them to grow tall

and turn their golden faces to the sun.

 

Which way from here?

Once again, I am posting about a small celebration -- this time it's a blogiversary, and a fairly big one at that. Seventeen years, an amount of time that boggles my mind. Where all have I been since then? The sign maybe says it. Nowhere, but now here... 

I started writing here as a way of establishing a bit of an online presence. At least that's what the workshop I attended proposed itself as -- starting a blog as an entry point to the world of the Internet. 

Since then, it appears that I've written a post here 1,199 times. So I guess that makes this number 1,200. That's a number that makes me happy, as twelve has always been my favourite number. I even have a poem about it in one of my books. 

Where exactly I go from here (with this, or for that matter, with a number of other possibilities) remains to be seen. I hope that some of you will continue to stick around. 

Sometimes...

...the groundhog gets it wrong. At least that's what I'm hoping must have happened last week on the 2nd when the critter must have seen his shadow in all that sunshine. According to lore, if he sees his shadow, winter is supposed to linger for another six weeks. But I'm saying NO to that. 
Small testament to spring though it may seem, I take heart from seeing the bulbs pushing their bright green heads up through the soil. And I love how they are so forgiving of my bad habits as a gardener, leaving all that stringy debris from last season still there. 
Soon I expect it will be warm enough for me to want to get out there with a clipper and some digging tools, and maybe then it will be prettied up enough for those anticipated flowers to burst into my bloom.