Hermit Gone Gypsy

As an intermission from Toronto's Hermit, you can see what is happening on the road HERE!

No phone.

Papa Watson:

Lauren, I think we should get you an Iphone.

Me:

No, dad, I don't need one of those.


Papa Watson:

But what if you are in the middle of nowhere?!


Me:
Thats the idea...I will still be in the middle of nowhere.

Inspired to make something.

Why we need to Occupy.

On august 22^nd 2011, I stood on the tiles of Nathan Philips square, and I watched a city mourn a man who stood for change. Jack Layton’s death was a loss for our country and for our government. Thousands joined in solidarity, writing chalky messages about continuing on Jack’s mission and being the change they so wish to see in the world. On November 12^th, I stood again on the tiles. “ Come Join us!” the group leader shouted. She was surrounded by a seated circle of individuals who strongly believed in the occupation of St James park. There were about (and I’m being generous) 40 of them. “JOIN US!” She called again. But the surrounding journalists, police and passersby stood fast, leaving the small group to their own devices of chanting for change, and cheering for their right to occupy a park in their city and debate on what needs to happen to make this world work better.

The woman holding the loudspeaker educated the mass on the history of the bank of Canada and the route of our need for change. I spent most of that time looking, with difficulty, for angles of the group that would emphasize ‘mass’. But I did not join.

Earlier in the day, in St. James Park, Eviction notes had gone up. The park was alive with people of all colours and consorts whispering about the happenings of the occupation and what could happen to save it. I wandered the park, amazed at the sheer number of tents that were occupying the park. A aged and warn down woman stood in the street with a sign asking passing traffic for support, as cars and trucks swerved to avoid her. Getting further inside I passed the gazebo of what looked like homeless and ‘hippie’ youth who were playing bongos. The majority of those I passed held cameras though, sheepishly smiling and circulating the site. I went to the law tent where individuals where men in suits and jackets discussing arrests and possible outcomes of a stand off. I creeped into the library where I eavesdropped a conversation between the dusty monitor and a well-kept student on what is currently the largest cause of human death globally. I  snooped around the aboriginal tents and the gathering circles of park inhabitants. My observations amounted to an admiration for the power of putting people in one place.  It reminded me of my university experience in some ways… but instead of just seeing a group of similarly aged, privileged Anglo Saxons, the worldly discussions were weaved between classes and races and ideals.

I spoke with three individuals in the park. A school teacher, a Ryerson student and a woman who had just come from supporting the Vancouver occupation. Each had a unique idea about what could happen next.

“ This is the planters wart of the city” the teacher said. “ We have deep roots here now. This is the only way we can change”. I begged on, asking him what will happen if the eviction goes though, but he could not answer me. “ It is the rainbow. Unless we are all together, living eating and breathing, we cannot see the world together.” Could there be a more civil location allocated for weekly discussions and meetings? But he shook his head, no.

The Ryerson student agreed, having friends living in the space but only visiting, herself. She felt that the positive energy and access to information and discussion in the park would be crucial to progressive changes in governing bodies. But her wide eyes and innocent smile left me feeling like her idealism might not save the world.

I started up discussion with the third woman after taking her picture and being embarrassed that she saw. She was smiling and watching the space. She explained that in Vancouver, the media unfairly represented the march because of 5 people in black facemasks, but for anyone who was there, there was such a positive energy. We discussed the finer points of media disparagement of the movement. “ But its working” she smiled and she was right. People like us might never be discussing this issue if it hadn’t been for the obscurity of the movement. It is creating interest.

Many have argued that the occupy movement has no place in Toronto, we are lucky, because of Canada’s privatized banking system we were not left in the same position as the USA at the end of the recession. We have socialized healthcare. Many of the occupiers must just be lazy bums or students with too much time on their hands. Columnists have philosophized about a lack of financial education, poor choices, idealistic and entitled hippies and lazy youth. And yet I feel as though there is a bigger message here, one that is seldom addressed properly.

Solidarity. It is not that we have it bad. It is that we know, as a whole, things could be better. It is the acknowledgment that human civilization must work as a whole to make a fair and sustainable future. The occupy movement is about people stepping down and acknowledging that life is going to have to change for everyone. Even if that means most of us wont be as comfortable for a while, we are looking to the powers that be to help us take those steps. To lead us.

It is a big job, as Jeremy Rifkin states in his RSA talk on the empathetic civilization. With evidence that humans are soft wired with mirror neurons, we understand that empathy is a cultural phenomenon, perhaps our next evolution is to extend our empathy to the entire human race. An empathetic civilization is the ground work of successful globalization and a productive and sustainable global community. Perhaps the an occupation is our next prerogative as a species; to balance the imperatives of globalization, the ideal of universalism and the empathic capacities of communities affected by change merely by re engaging with our democratic rights.

I cringed as the mob marched to city hall, slandering Ford and arguing over loud speakers. I watched the masses of homeward bound city workers and white collars crowd in doorways sneering or cheer for the rowdy troublemakers passing by. And then I stood, observing a small group of concerned citizens begged the public to join in, to be concerned with them, and we alienated them. They were the 1% of Toronto who was representing the whole of concerned citizens, and it was a misrepresentation.  

My question is, what if we joined in the conversation? What if for just one day we went down and talked to our fellow voters, about change, about ideals about the future possibilities for our country? What if that discussion was actually available to the public, the familiarization with every viewpoint? Perhaps it would no longer just be the commited hippies, perhaps it would become the global conscience.

As the rains and cold weather washed away our chalk promises to Jack Layton’s ideals, the city continued on with daily life. Why would those same people not support a movement that called for an inclusive discussion of our country’s future?

We are comfortable, that is for sure and if you live in Canada, even if you are living on the street, you are part of the 1%, and with that power we have the responsibility to participate.

“ Until the great mass of the people shall be filled with the sense of responsibility for each other’s welfare, social justice can never be attained.” – Helen Keller 

Precision of Passion

" Writing is, for most, laborious and slow. The mind travels faster than the pen; consequently, writing becomes a question of learning to make the occasional wing shot, bringing down the bird of thought as it flashes by. A writer is a gunner, sometimes waiting in the blind for something to come in, sometimes roaming the countryside hoping to scare something up. Like other gunners, the writer must cultivate patience, working many covers to bring down one partridge. "

- The Elements of Style by William Strunk jr. and E.B. White ( p. 69)

Through examples of Hemingway and Faulkner, The Elements of Style illuminates the English language. A book which, 5 years ago, I would have considered so dry and fruitless that I would never have picked up on my own, and would have scoffed at under academic rule. Writing has always been easy for me, but grammar has not. The same way i can live in watercolour but suffer under the duress of a technical pen.

Throughout my education I have been taught to hold a paintbrush, to see negative space, and to emphasize through colour or tone. Never have I ever been privileged to an interest in language. So here is the new chapter of my personal growth I guess, this might even be a sign of artistic maturity.

Yahoo!

Hamor Blee Das.

So, a Rabi brings 9 Jews to go ziplining one day.

No, this is not the beginning of a joke, it is the beginning of a life- changing story.

Myself and my co-worker began our day as usual, setting up and welcoming the group of 10 to our 'zip extreme' site. They were all smiles and excitement, getting harnessed up and ready. The men ranged in age, mid 20s to mid 50s, with the oldest of them being their Rabi.


We taught the group how to set up to rappel, we coached them over the edge and one by one the men giggled and panted their way down the cliff. Most of them were quite nervous but extremely enthusiastic. Once the crew were  comfortable on the ropes we went to set up the zip.

The structure of the course is to attach clients to the zip line in the same way that  they would have been attached to the rappel. They hold their own ropes and run off the edge of the cliff. With a microsecond delay, their rope catches their weight and they zip out across the river, lowering themselves down into the water at their own speed.

Usually this event is what the industry refers to as " challenge by choice" meaning individuals feel no outside pressure to participate in all the activities. Consequently, many people end up roping up only to walk to the end, gasp and spend 10- 15 minutes deciding whether or not they can force themselves off. Sometimes they ask us to push them, sometimes they bum slide off the rocky edge and occasionally they decline the experience.

On this particular day, the first  gentleman was set up and before we could instruct the him on how to run, the Rabi leaned over from the sidelines " Okay so you are ready?" the gentleman nodded. " Are you nervous?" the gentleman says " yes, Rabi, I don't think I can do this". The Rabi then talked the man backwards, asked him about the systems in place,  did he trust the ropes? yes. Did he trust his set up? the gentleman squeezed his carabiners and looked at me for approval and then said yes.

" okay, so logistically you are safe. Is your fear logical?" the gentleman shook his head, no.

" what you have done in this situation, my friend, is you have acknowledged that you are safe. What you are about to do is safe, your fear is irrational. Now what you have to do, is let go of your mind. your mind's role is done, it checked the system, it chose the action, now its time for your heart to take over."

"Now what have you chosen?" The rabi asked the man.Leaving me confused and wondering what kind of choice he really had at the moment.
"Hamor Blee das" exclaimed the man. The Rabi smiled " great, great choice. Now think about your wife, think about your kids, think about anything but the edge... and go".

With that the man charged the edge of the cliff firing himself airborne over the gorge. The rope pulled tight and he was off, chanting a psalm which I might never know.

I turned to the others beside me as we were pulling the ropes back in and asked what ' hamor blee das' represented. " it is a piece of scripture" one explained. " it means ' to be a donkey with blinders on'".

I was shocked as each of the men had similar pep talks and for the first time in my experience with zip lines, not one person hesitated at the edge. Some men even asked for more slack in the rope, prolonging their initial freefall, therefore challenging their fears even more. These men were exercising their trust, their fear and their will power through their faith. They were learning to let go of thier mind, learning when they do not need their rationalizing hemispheres.

Do the task at hand. Become a donkey with blinders on.

This is the very same exercise I have been studying and trying so hard to harness over the past few years, through kayaking and climbing. It is the art of meditation, of quieting the mind during activity. How can you possibly clip a bolt or climb above pro without over gripping. How can you let yourself exist in the moment you are in, perform under pressure or circumstances that you cannot control.

Perhaps it is a form of meditation, something which each person experiences differently. Alex Honnold experiences it by free- soloing half dome. Even then there was a moment when all of his talismans against fear disapated and he was stuck for some time on a ledge, trying to reconstruct his " Hamor Blee Das".

As the day went on, each of the men soared across the gorge chanting and mediating and finding ways to allow themselves to charge the unknown. It was ridiculous to the untrained eye and  inspiring for anyone who has ever searched themselves for the strength to overcome irrational fears. I had never given religion the credit of experiential learning like this.


Mazel tof, boys.

Talk is cheap.

Monsters of Folk- baby boomers.

If I was ever premiere…

Ontario, I do not want to give you what you want. I want to give you what you need.

Like with all good things in life, change its not going to be pretty, easy or all together enjoyable, but if I can have your faith and your support we can do this together, and I will make a government that will support your efforts.

I am not here to sell myself. This is a debate. Last time I checked, debates were discussions about what should happen next. My platform will change, just as each and every other candidates here… but you should already know that by now. Just take a look at the history of politics.

So please let me bend your ear. Yes, this might burn.

In the same way your children’s body fat will burn away. We will promote healthy eating, healthy snacks in schools, tax cuts for after school programs that are outside or active, and most importantly education for expecting parents and emphasis on healthy diets. Maybe we will make some harder hits, now that smoking education has been around for a long time maybe smoking related cancer will not be covered, maybe adulthood obesity will not be covered ( if not clinical). Maybe there will be some hard hits slowly phased in to remind people that they must work on themselves, we must be hard on ourselves. We are in challenging times.

Maybe those on welfare will have to volunteer their time in order to maintain it. Maybe EI will be more demanding on its recipients. No more free hand outs, I have never seen that be a success.
Entitlement is a black hole.

Seniors who are concerned about their pensions? You will be taken care of, as long as you are still contributing as much as you are able. If you are not able we will not let you fall though. Our generation knows now that those promises of yesterday are no longer realistic for tomorrow, so lets be pragmatic together.

Energy.

I will not cut your bill, but I will educate you on how to cut it yourself: use less water, turn your lights off. I will give you credits for retrofitting.Tax cuts for bikers. Education and resources will be made available.

I will do the ndp thing of cutting corporate tax to companies who show devotion to Ontario workers. None other.

We all have to work on this, its not in my hands as much as it is in yours.

Dear Candidates,

Ontario does not need a salesman, nor a popularity contest. Ontario needs a leader.

Someone to stand up and turn a mirror on the people- Be the change you want to see.