small wonders

I've been writing this post in my head all week. At first I thought I might not write it at all- it would be so much easier to just post a few more pictures of piglets or my kids toes in the grass and leave the hard stuff quiet for now. But this has been a week of witnessing a whole lot of people with hard stuff to say choosing not to stay quiet, an incredible, powerful week of hearing the voices of my community, of so many people I know and love, and many whom I have never met before, speaking out against the potential loss of the things they hold most dear in all the world.

I would like to stop you for a minute here, dear reader, and ask you to picture what you hold most dear. Think of your family, your kids. Think of your favorite places to be with those people you love- perhaps your back garden, your favorite walk in the woods or by your river or across your favorite stretch of mountain or desert or prarie. Think of the places that you love most in the world. Now think- if this precious place you are thinking of was at risk in some way, what would you feel? What would you do? And those people you hold most dear- what about them- what would you do to protect them?

I know this sounds dramatic. Drama isn't really my thing- I avoided drama class like the plague in highschool and if someone at a party suggests a game of charades I usually slip out a back exit as quickly as possible. But this- this is real life drama. This is my very own precious beloved places, my very own precous beloved people, at risk. 


And I realize how much I have taken for granted- that these things I love most in the world would be safe- that in our peaceful, safe, democratic country, the things I hold dear would be preserved for me, and that the health of the people I love would be protected. But they are not. We are not safe. These rivers and mountains are not safe- the water we drink, the food we gather and grow here, all this is at risk from the pipelines and tankers that are proposed to cut right through this natural, rugged, pristine home of ours.

There is lots of information about the proposed pipeline project on line and I will not try to give the whole background here.  Wikipedia  gives a good idea of the project and its scale. There is some info here on some of the risks, and information about the issues surrounding First Nations consultation here.
But anyone who knows this area, who knows the landscape the pipeline is proposed to cross and the coastline the tankers would be navigating, anyone who knows our unpredictable northern weather, our landslides, the extreme winds and storms on our coasts, the rough terrain,  knows this proposal is just plain crazy. 


This project is crazy on so many levels- because it would simply not be safe to attempt to ship bitumen through rugged terrain in pipelines that are known to fail. 


Because this is First Nations territory and they are opposed to the project.


 Because shipping unrefined tar sands oil to China when we know we need to be reducing our dependency on oil is insanity. 


Because our tourism and wild salmon economy is worth so much more to us than the few jobs this pipeline would bring. 


Because the people who live here choose to live here because we love it here. Because the water is clean, the air is clean, the rivers are full of fish, the mountains are full of wildlife, the communities are full of people who are in awe of our good fortune to get to live in such a spectacular place. Because this is our home. Because no amount of money is worth risking this.

This week the Joint Review Panel came to our town to listen to those affected by the proposal. Our federal government has already made it clear that it does not consider itself obliged to take the ruling of the panel into consideration in its decision making, and that it intends to push this pipeline through despite any findings of environmental or social issues. Obviouly this makes those participating a little less than reassured in the validity of the process. Still, thousands of us have signed up to state our opposition to the pipeline. 

In signing up to voice our concerns, our govenment has termed us "foreign funded- radicals" whose intent is to "hijack the regulatory system" by "stacking public hearings." Dear reader- do you see me- in my gum boots and hand knits- as a radical? Was signing up to speak against a project that could harm my family (even as I shook in those muddy gum boots at the thought of speaking in front of the panel-) was that stacking the public hearings, do you think? And if, perhaps, I do not come across as a radical- how about the others whose oral statements I listened to this week- how about the nurses, doctors, teachers, small business owners, engineers, farmers, choir directors, artists, high school students, councilors, biologists, fishing guides, healthcare workers, musicians, foresters, mothers, fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers? Were they foreign funded radicals do you think? Or maybe just everyday folks who live here and are concerned about our home? 

This week has been hard- so hard. It was, without a doubt, a difficult thing for me to get up in front of the panel to speak, but harder still was listening to statement after statement by people in my community- people speaking with incredible emotion- many unable to get through their statements without breaking down- all of them given just 10 minutes to lay out the very foundations of what they value, to articulate their connection to this place and their terrible fears of what they stand to loose. Over and over I was brought to tears listening to these voices, and I was able to think of little else.

But, even as I felt that my heart would break with the weight of it all, I also felt something lighter - something that felt an awful lot hope. And like gratitude too.  If you can imagine, dear reader, a community of people who are all thinking- as I just asked you to do- about what is most precious in all the world, and then being asked to stand up and defend those things, and that these people have at least a shred of hope that their words might be able to protect that which they love most in the word- well, you can probably imagine that those words would be pretty powerful. And they were. Those were some powerful words. And I feel grateful to have been able to be witness to them.

And I felt a great deal of hope listening to those voice. I felt hopeful that those three human beings on the panel would hear these voices and be moved by them. I felt hopeful that people coming together can make great change. I felt hopeful at the strengthening of our community. And I felt hopeful for the world as I saw how much love and connection people feel for their lands. I felt part of something bigger than this little room full of people in our little northern town- I felt all of us connected to a larger force of people who want healing in this world, and who are not willing to sit by and watch more of what is good in the world be ripped up before our eyes.

So for now the hope and fear sit side by side. The fear sits there deep in my gut, and it is not going to leave until we get the word that this project is not going through. But the hope- that isn't going anywhere either. That hope is just going to sit here in my heart and keep me beliving that we human beings are capable of terrific, beautiful things when we care deeply. And this graditute, it is going to stay put too- and it is going to help me remember that I am surrounded by incredible, powerful souls all wanting something better from this world.

But now it is time to get back to our normal lives again for the time being- get back to the garden and the seedlings and the piggies and to dig us out of the piles of laundry and start eating square meals again. Oh and my kids would love it if I would stop slipping away to "adult meetings" and to stop listening to people talking on the computer and read them some books already. Right. Back to my beautiful precious life then.
Goodnight friends.