Imagine a machine that measures tenderness towards the earth. Perhaps it is a satellite sent from a distant planet, measuring oil wells against gardening, carbon in the atmosphere, minerals left in the ground, dinosaur bones still buried. To measure tenderness may be spreadsheets and adding machines, the legal tender to which we owe our existence.
Tag: daily life
Since March 2021, I’ve been trying to write this blog post. I probably have written thousands of words of draft text. I had the chance to share an Easter reflection at our staff meeting this week, and was given three minutes to speak and two minutes for a ritual. That beautiful constraint birthed this very
It is an understatement to say that coming back to Canada has been a change. A panel I attended in November with Kate Hennessy, Dorothy Day’s granddaughter, was a space for calm. Kate shared lessons and memories of growing up in a Catholic Worker home. Surrounded by anarchists, in the audience and on the panel,
I once bought a pair of yellow wax eyes at the bottom of the walking trail up to Monserrate in Bogota. As I climbed the stairs, I kept noticing vendors selling wax body parts. Arms. Legs. Torsos. Pregnant bellies. Pilgrims carried them with them and left or burnt them at the top. Rather than placing
The last time I lived in Bolivia, I followed the national elections like a stalker. Everytime I would hear loud music in the street, I rushed outside to watch the flatbed trucks filled with dancers and waving flags go past. Every candidate had a theme song and as it played, the politicians would toss t-shirts
In honour of World Humanitarian Day, I’m sharing ten lessons that I have learnt from my Latin American colleagues, some of the best humanitarians I know. 1. Listen with your entire body. This includes things like greetings, expressing appreciation, and dressing well. I remind myself that I am an invited guest and my task is to
My favourite sign in the botanical gardens in Bogota is about the potato. “After [insert six countries here], Colombia is the number one producer of potatoes in the world,” the sign proudly proclaims. While in Colombia, I have been to the highest vineyard in the world, the largest coastal desert mountain, the prettiest town in
I tell lies in taxis all the time. Instead of trying to explain that yes, a single Canadian woman is living and working alone, it is simpler to nod along to the assumption that I am happily married I knew things would be different, however, within three minutes of getting in a recent cab. Instead
My sister came to take me from Victoria to her home up island. Before we left, we had to make a slight detour, she told me. We needed to pick up some pigs for her farm. Yet even as Bonnie informed me our plans, she looked dubious. I would have to help with loading, and
I made yogurt yesterday. I didn’t feel like I had much of a choice. After a Monday long with meetings and trying to both write and speak coherent sentences, I was done with living in my head. Instead, I boiled milk, let it cool, added a starter, and put it on top of the fridge to ferment. This morning, I woke up to a thermos full of creamy yogurt, the most productive thing I have accomplished in weeks.