Creating Change in the Community

 The last thing I ever thought I’d do during a global pandemic is go door to door talking to people about racism and asking them to sign a petition urging the township where I live to create legislation to ban the flying of the American Confederate flag.  And yet, that is what I spent the last week and a half doing.

The village where I live is on the shores of Georgian Bay in Ontario, Canada.  In the 1800’s the first European settlers showed up here.  They then set to cutting down the thick forests and the townsite of Waubaushene was created for the logging industry.  Once all the trees were cut down, the industry moved on but the houses and some of their inhabitants remained.  Some of these small houses became cottages and some were added onto or replaced entirely.  Some of the village’s residents are here year round and some are summer cottagers.  The small houses are still reasonably priced and so you get a lot of new families buying homes here.  There are many vulnerable people in the community as well including seniors and mentally handicapped individuals.  Although this village has been predominantly white since the European settlers arrived, there are also Metis, First Nation and Black people living here now as well.  And, there is also one man who insists on flying a Confederate flag on his lakeside property.  It is visible from the street and it is eye catching on the boating channel that runs alongside his backyard.  Hundreds of boats a week pass by this symbol of racism and hate.  Many of these people are black and people of colour from the racially diverse city of Toronto, to the south.

We have a small lakeside property, just big enough for a garden and a dock which is one dock away from this flag.  We have watched it fly for three years at least.  It never gets easier to see it.  It feels like a punch to the gut every time for me.  But, apparently it is legal to fly whatever you want on your own property, even flags that create fear and terror in others such as the Swastika.

For reference, the Confederate flag was only a flag for the four years of the American Civil War during the 1860’s.  It has been revived by white supremacists as a racist symbol in latter years although the US military and many other agencies have since banned it.  And here in Ontario, some people are using the Charter of Rights and Freedoms to spread fear and hate.

Earlier this year, a courageous woman in the nearby community of Collingwood decided to do something about the same flag which was being flown in her town.  She started an on-line petition and got 35,000 signatures.  Her town council studied the situation and somehow talked the man into taking down his flag without so far changing any legislation.

This gave people in our community the inspiration to go to our township council to ask for legislation regarding this flag.  They said that they have no jurisdiction over flags and that the Charter of Rights and Freedoms would have to be amended to do so.  But, they said, they would study it.  It seems ironic that this same township has jurisdiction over the length of grass on the lawn, the removal of garbage, dog feces, building permits, wild plants (weeds), and so many other things.  But not symbols of hate.  Makes one wonder about what they see as important.

We learned that the mother of two black teens who live across the street from the flag tried to speak to its owner.  The man’s wife answered the door and said that the flag was a joke and that her partner would never take it down.  The mother explained that it wasn’t a joke to her family but to no avail. 

So, some of us decided to get a petition together to urge the council to do whatever it takes, such as joining with other communities who are looking for the same solution, and going to the province and the federal goernment.  My partner and I started the petition out.  We went to the homes of people we knew, people who might be willing to sign the petition just to get practice and courage.  Earlier this year, I took a little on-line course by healer, author and trauma specialist Resmaa Menakem on healing racialized trauma and I listened to the audio book version of White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo.  These two authors helped me to understand that white people have to start talking to other white people about racism and how to dismantle white supremacy.   As long as white people have more privilege then other people, will have less privilege.

       Healer, author and trauma specialist Resmaa Menakem

I am not sure that the council will care about a petition, although you never know.  But I did think that this was a good opportunity to start dismantling white supremacy, engage others in being part of the solution and build community at the same time.  After going to the homes of people we knew, we started visiting people we knew just a little.  If we saw people we didn’t know outside of their homes, we would strike up a conversation.

There was the consideration of how to do this during a pandemic.  We wore masks, brought hand sanitizer along for the pen and people’s hands after signing and we social distanced.  This meant donning the masks as we approached the house, knocking on the door and then stepping back ten feet.  Many people were not aware of the flag.  Most were surprised or shocked and most were eager to sign the petition.  A few didn’t sign.  Two people told us that they didn’t sign anything.  One didn’t sign because the owner of the flag was his customer even though he didn’t agree with the flying of the flag.  Many people were happy to see someone doing something about this.

During this week and a half, an on-line story about the flag in our village appeared in two local communities.  Then the local TV station came to do a piece on the flag.  The camera crew got in a boat and filmed the flag in the man’s backyard.  They interviewed two residents of the village and a spokesperson from the township.  The owner of the flag wasn’t home when they visited. The next day, the flag came down.

We will still submit our petition to the township, the province and the federal government because we believe that symbols of hate and terrorism have no place in our community, our country and our world.  As we chatted with people about the petition, we got the impression that people want a safe, welcoming community to live in.  We may never know what exactly prompted the man to take down the flag.  He may well put it up again.  But, we have seeded the idea that the residents can have a voice and can shape the community that they live in.  We have given white people the chance to confront the reality that racism exists in their communities and have given them the chance to participate in asking for change. For the black people in our community who we talked to and who signed the petition, perhaps we have given them the chance to see white people trying to talk to other white people about their racist actions.  And I got to meet more of my neighbours and create a small sense of community over this issue.

A year ago, I would not have thought that this was possible.  But, we are in strange times where new things can happen.  We are indeed writing our new story.

Heart Healing Hawthorn

 

Anna’s breathing had become rapid and she could hear her heartbeat pounding inside of her ears as she reached the top of the long, steep, sandy trail.  She leaned forward, hands on her thighs and gulped in the air until her breathing slowed down.  Then she raised her head up and looked out from her high vantage point.  Georgian Bay spread out before her with its rocky islands and windswept White Pine trees.  The lake was dark blue as the wind swept it into waves that were too rough to reflect the low grey clouds racing over them.  Anna was glad for the wind that cooled her reddened face and brought relief to her aging body. 

Relief was what she was looking for, but not just from the strain of climbing the hill.  There was still a storm raging inside of her that needed attention.  She took the trail that ran north along the edge of the ridge.  She knew what she was looking for and within a few minutes she had arrived.  The tree before her was not very tall, yet it looked ancient.  The twisted grey bark on the trunk and the impenetrable maze of branches seemed daunting yet she had felt the pull of this tree from down below in the village where she lived.

This Hawthorn was in blossom and the leaves were just unfurled but still small.  Anna brought her nose to the five petaled white flowers and inhaled deeply.  She knew that this tree carried a substance that dilated the left ascending coronary artery that brought food and oxygen to her heart muscle.  After the climb, this might be a good thing.  She noticed as she breathed in that her chest felt tight.  That was not surprising, considering the deep sadness that gripped her heart and clenched her abdomen.  It had taken over her brain and her body and now seemed to be in charge of making decisions as well.  But, the Hawthorn had called her, over and over again and finally she had collected her will enough to make the climb.

Anna scanned the branches until she found one of the long sharp thorns.  She placed her thumb on the sharp tip and tested it.  It could easily draw blood.  She welcomed the sensation on her thumb.  It distracted her from the emotional pain inside of her.   Then, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled very slowly and carefully under the lowest branches until she reached the trunk.  Twisting to look around, she found that there was enough space for her to sit with her back up against the trunk of the tree which she carefully managed to do.  From her new vantage point, Anna looked out through the leaves and flowers to the water far below and took some slow breaths in.  She imagined the oxygen in the air making its way easily to her heart.  She felt safe, hidden here behind the thorny wall of branches.  She understood why people had used these trees to create hedges instead of wooden or stone fences.  The old word for hedge, haeg, had become haw over time. 

Hearing a small rustle above her, Anna slowly looked up.  She could just make out the sticks and grasses of what looked like a Robin’s nest high above her.  The Robin’s tail feathers stuck out from the edge of the nest and she could see them moving as the Robin settled herself on what she imagined were turquoise eggs.  Anna wasn’t the only one taking refuge.

As she watched the Robin, her eye was drawn to a long piece of what looked to be red wool.  It was wound around a branch like thread on a bobbin and in the centre of this creation hung a tiny bell.  Anna knew that in Ireland, Hawthorn trees were called Wishing Trees and that people tied “clotties” made from cloth, wool and trinkets, onto their branches to make wishes, prayers and offerings to the Fairy people.  The Fairies were said to live under Hawthorns, especially those that grew on a hill.

Leaning her head up against the trunk, Anna closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the flowers.  Her chest still felt tight and the grief began to bubble up. Salty tears flowed down her face as she sobbed.  It felt as though it would never end, as though she would be heartbroken for ever as the feelings, unfettered now, flooded up in waves.  But, as was always the case, eventually, the waves died down and the crying ended.  Anna felt exhausted and broken open, so she succumbed to sleep, still leaning up against the Hawthorn trunk. 

She had only been sleeping for a few minutes when a large rock beside her began to move sideways revealing an opening into the earth.  Tiny people then emerged from this hole and began to climb up into the branches of the tree.  They were dressed in clothing made from leaves with flowers for hats and necklaces made from seeds.  Two of the young men climbed up into the branches where the red wool and the bell were wound.  They nimbly unwound the wool and dropped it with the bell to the ground.  At the tiny bell’s ring, Anna twitched her hands but did not wake up.

Working together, the other tiny people picked Hawthorn flowers from the branches and dropped them onto the ground as well.  Those that waited on the ground carried the flowers to an older looking tiny person who had a long hawthorn with a hole in it.  The piece of red wool was untangled and threaded through the hole.  One by one, she pushed the thorn through the centre of each flower, creating a string of blossoms.  When the wool was all filled up, the two young men each took an end and climbed onto Anna’s legs.  They made their way up her body until they reached her neck.  And there, they brought the two ends of the wool together into a knot, creating a blossom necklace around her throat.

That was when they both noticed at the same time, the silver earrings that hung from Anna’s ear lobes.  Silver had been formed into the shape of cedar needles and they shone in the light.  Giggling, the two tiny men walked along Anna’s shoulders and unfastened the earrings.  Gently sliding them out, they hoisted them over their own shoulders and began to make their descent.  Then they joined the others who were disappearing into the hole.  One carried the bell.  The silver of the bell and the earrings flashed one last time as the rock slid back into place.

Later, when Anna finally awoke, it took her a minute to remember where she was.  She had been dreaming about tiny people who poured out from a hole behind a rock.  They had been picking flowers, she remembered.  Putting her palm over her heart, she noticed that her chest wasn’t tight anymore.  That was a relief.  She also noticed something soft under her fingers.  Looking down, she saw a string of Hawthorn flowers around her neck.  She didn’t remember making a necklace.  Taking a deep breath, she felt her ribcage expand easily.  Her heart no longer ached.  She was grateful for that.

A movement of brown fur caught her eye and she saw a tiny Cottontail Rabbit sitting near her foot.  Anna sat very still and eventually the Rabbit hopped a little closer.  It began to nibble the grass and clover that grew under the tree.  Anna could feel her heart opening at the sight of this baby with its very large dark eyes.  She smiled as it stopped every now and then and twitched its soft nose.  After a few minutes, it hopped off out of view and she let out a quiet chuckle.

Anna stretched out her legs in preparation for crawling out of her sanctuary.  Carefully she got onto her hands and knees and made her way past the sharp thorns and pokey branches.  Once she was clear of the Hawthorn, she slowly rose to standing.  Brushing her hair back out of her eyes, she slid her hands over her ears and noticed that her earrings were gone.  “How peculiar,” she said to herself.  “I’m sure I wore the cedar ones today.  I must be getting forgetful.  I don’t even remember making this necklace, although it is very lovely.”

Shaking her head at her presumed forgetfulness, Anna stopped to pick up a walking stick to help her get back down the hill.  Her inner storm had crashed and moved on and her heart felt open.  That was magic enough for one day, she thought.  “And what a nice dream I had about the fairies!”  Then she stopped in her tracks and turned her head back to the Hawthorn.  “That’s funny,” she said to herself. “ I thought I heard a bell ringing.”  Laughing at her own imagination, Anna made her way back down the steep hill and through the village to her home where she made a cup of nettle tea to have with toast and hawthorn jelly.

 

Naomi Shihab Nye's "Kindness"

 

These are words for our times.  Naomi Shihab Nye reads her poem “Kindness” and explains how it came to her.  Below are the words.

 

Before you know what kindness really is

you must lose things,

feel the future dissolve in a moment

like salt in a weakened broth.

What you held in your hand,

what you counted and carefully saved,

all this must go so you know

how desolate the landscape can be

between the regions of kindness.

How you ride and ride

thinking the bus will never stop, 

the passengers eating maize and chicken

will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness

you must travel where the Indian in the white poncho

lies dead by the side of the road.

You must see how this could be you,

how he too was someone

who journeyed through the night with plans

and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,

you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.

You must wake up with sorrow.

You must speak to it till your voice

catches the thread of all sorrows

and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,

only kindness that ties your shoes

and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread,

only kindness that raises its head

from the crowd of the world to say

It is I you have been looking for,

and then goes with you everywhere

like a shadow or a friend.

And, if you would to hear it one more time, you can hear actress Emma Thompson reading it here. 

A Blueprint for These Times

 

I originally posted this piece that represents the work of TreeSisters.  It is made up of thousands of tiny seed beads which are sewn onto felt to create the design.  Then the felt was sewn onto velvet that was mounted on wood and framed with a willow hoop.

TreeSisters works to empower women in feminine Nature-based leadership and its members donate money for the planting of millions of trees in the tropics.  The deforested area in the centre circle of the piece above, is being renewed with young trees, planted by the reforestation partners.  The older trees in the design draw water from the aquifers through their roots, trunks, branches and leaves and then into the air as rain that nourishes the young trees.  The forest floor below the surface is an interconnected world of roots, fungal communication networks, the bones of the ancestors and the seeds planted by TreeSisters.

This piece was part of the International Women’s Day art show in the Orillia Museum of History and Art this past winter.  It then became locked in the museum during the shut down part of this pandemic.  The piece was released to me again a few weeks ago and it now hangs in the clinic where I work.

As I look at this piece in between seeing clients, it has occurred to me that the narrative associated with it could change to fit these times in which we now find ourselves.  The centre circle could be the space that has been created by the pause of the shut down.  Busy lives suddenly became quieter.  Many people had more time in which to reflect on their lives.  Months later, many people are back to work and for others, there are some new activities but everyone seems to agree that we will not go back to what we used to think was “normal.”

And so, the centre space could be the space where we decide what we want to grow now.  Some things will have fallen away without us missing them too much and other things may feel like lifelines.  There may be new things that we never considered before that now want to emerge.

The big trees could represent all of Nature.  During the stay at home stage, I walked everyday on different trails and forests, but always beside the trees.  They sustained me with their presence and taught me new things.  My relationship with other-than-human life grew stronger as I stayed away from most humans.  I discovered new plants and learned about caring for myself from the forests.  There are new parts of me that are growing from my time spent in the woods.

During this time, I connected with my ancestors through a cousin who shared his membership in an on-line ancestry website.  I got a better sense of the soil that I had grown out of and the ancestral wounds that went along with them. On some days, the drops falling on the new growth are tears as I work to heal the traumas of my lineage.  I let the old trauma stories fall onto the forest floor where they return to Earth and are composted so that they can nurture new growth from below.

And so this piece is now a map for these times that I didn’t even know I would need when I first put it together.  In exploring the relationship between water, trees, soil, fungi and new growth, a blueprint has emerged that continues to inform me.  It could be a blueprint for our new growth, for our new story.

Wisdom of the Earth Rising

This is an image that popped into my head a few weeks ago.  I have been in dialogue with other artists on the Tree Sisters website about global events.  The idea of symbolizing the dominant western hierarchical worldview with a pyramid was discussed.  The worldview of the interconnectedness of all life can be symbolized by a circle.  In the picture that popped into my mind the old worldview was crumbling, pieces of the pyramid had fallen away or were melting while circles representing ancient wisdom, earth wisdom, and Indigenous knowledge which is both ancient and of the earth, were rising to take their place.  As well the sun and moon representing male and female energy in balance showed up.  And then circles coming, it seemed from the stars, appeared which to me represent Universal love. 

It has been said that we are all contributing to our collective consciousness which is shaping our future.  This is the image that I want to contribute to that consciousness.  It is acrylic on canvas 16" x 12".