Cowichan Valley Arts Cafe Christmas Greetings

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!

A Winter Skate

watercolour by Donna Hogan

Vancouver Island Seal Lions

Vancouver Island Simple Abundance

This is a photo of some kelp I saw up at Tofino last month. I saw
Sarah's quote in her book "Simple Abundance" and thought it fit very nicely.

I wrote and asked her if I could use her quote and she graciously agreed-nice huh?
You never know until you try!

Merry Christmas!

…… Susan Miller aka "Beach Hauntress"

Charles Van Gorkom, on Vancouver Island

After 43 years up north in the Smithers area, we have moved to Chemainus to spend the last years of our lives. I am a bootmaker/poet.

hikingbootshandcrafted.com and my poetry blog is www.rainforestsoul.blogspot.com. My graphic arts are in remission, Never-the-less, I have joined the Cowichan Valley Arts Council. I am impressed with the world-class quality of all the arts in this valley!

My first time living on the Island, I have written a poem giving my first impressions, and if you deem it worthy, I would like to post it on the cafe blog.

Impressions Of Vancouver Island

Rough unfinished wood,
rain forests mantled with thick green moss
encircled by the Pacific.

Art hanging everywhere,
world class crafts on shelves tucked
into every crook in the narrow roads,
murmuring voices of sea and wind,
Live acoustic guitar,
smells of coffee and baking
in coffee shops with live music,
on an island world to itself
seceeded from the mainland
more than a hundred years ago.

Who knew?
No one could be told who
would care anywhere,
so the secret government
by acclamation went unspoken,
unelected, undefined by declarations,
orations and constitutions,
defended by the isolation,
the winters with no tourists,
and expense of ferry trips
off island.

Unheralded, but accepted,
since it has been mutually agreed
a casual association with the rest of Canada
can be advantageous for secret trade.

~ Charles Van Gorkom, bootmaker/poet


Other poetry shared by Charles in the Cafe includes:

• New Year
• Life Is Art In Cowichan Bay
• Skate Board Dancer
• Where Mushroom Shepherds Dwell

I cannot thank you enough Charles for your poetry contributions to the Cafe. These shared moments  on nature and the nature of things always fascinate me.
Ron Greenaway

West Coast Solitude

West Coast Solitude
Masa paper on canvas by Judi Pedder

Doors, poetry by Rojan Zét

Late evening, calling done, supper
cold, music stopped, silent house,
I open Door to dark night.

Moon stands in half, black between trees,
Car's sound moves east, Light marks positions,
Dark whispers, "Come." Air wraps cold arms
around me, carries me down Ladder, sets
my feet on Ground.

Deer rustles up Bank, Trail gathers me and
I am blinded moving only my feet toward the
water, only my feet, my feet moving toward
Water, across Pavement, touching Sand, and
Light's sharp glance stabbing off a wave
almost fells me. Stumbling, I move along
Beach to the shelter of walls under Dock and
to the leaf-hidden stair of fifty-seven steps.

The silent habitations of neighbours pass by
marking each pace's distance from my own not
paying attention, letting nature find a course
for me. Only one outcry from behind some wall
and I am at mailboxes where I stop to pick fennel
and maybe think of her once, then back up Ladder
to where the fridge hums and I stand stripping
seeds from small branches, collecting them in
an empty film canister behind closed doors.


Rojan Zét

Judi Pedder, painter

Profile of an Artist

Judi Pedder takes inspiration from scenes witnessed while traveling in Canada and England. They reflect her strong connection to earth and its natural beauty, and her need for wide open peaceful spaces. Born under the sign of Pisces, she has a particular affinity for beaches, the ocean and smaller bodies of water, which frequently appear in her work.

House plants and gardening offer a closer and intimate perspective of nature's wonders. Her flowers are never shown in formal arrangements - she prefers the 'before picking' state and frequently starts with the main subject, adding/growing the leaves and buds as she sees where they are needed. Many of her 'flower portraits' have evolved from various garden and studio tours as well as from her own garden.

She works in watercolours and finds pure joy in the flow of water plus pigment - "there's no other medium that can do what watercolour does best - if you are brave enough to let it! The variety in my work often comes from my intent, my choice of support, or paper, for that particular piece.

My work on Masa paper is acknowledged, widely recognized and always brings questions, hence the recent production of my DVD “Preparing and Painting on Masa Paper” - a complete step-by-step workshop with 3 paintings shown from drawing to signature. It is available on line, from my gallery/studio in Comox, or by mail."

Judi began her formal art training with a scholarship to the Ipswich School of Art, England, studying a diverse range of subjects. She moved to Canada in 1966 where family and employment took precedence over pure art pursuits until the 1990s when Judi decided to indulge her admiration of watercolours by studying with several accomplished instructors. Her work has been exhibited since 1995 and hangs in Johannesburg, Chicago, Budapest, Calgary, Albuquerque & many Ontario & BC cities.

Judi Pedder arrived in Comox on Vancouver Island on May 1, 2006 where she set up a gallery/studio for the dual purposes of painting and conducting classes or workshops.

Contact:
317 Torrence Road, Comox, BC V9M 1A6
Phone: 250-339-7081
Email: judipedder@shaw.ca

See more information and artwork by Judi Pedder at: www.judipedder.com

Moderators note:

Judi has given permission to publish some pictures of her art work on the the Cowichan Valley Arts Café.

To date this includes:

• Cox Bay Tofino
• West Coast Solitude
• Lake District Memory
• Grace
  

51 Jokes (in Four Minutes)

Juniper Islet, by Yvonne MacKenzie

the cure for sadness

is to embrace all existence

like the beloved


at Juniper Islet the heart cries out in delirium

oh my love

as frosted lips gently brush the forehead

sea wind loosening the clasp of winter’s wrap

and slipping back the hood so the land can kiss your eyes


at Juniper Islet

cedar limbs shiver in the crystalline silence

shrugging powder-white robes

onto a pillow of emerald moss


the scriven track of geese on a snowbound log

is the first stanza of a poem taking flight

an invitation

to open your arms

and join the dance of earth and sky


skirts of light sweeping over the waves

revolving in the stateroom of the soul

pulling you closer to center

Donna Hogan, Out of Africa

Out of Africa
watercolour by Donna Hogan

Cara McCandless, Singer, Songwriter

Profile of an Artist

Here's the Story…

Cara's musical beginnings were in her family's kitchen on cold winter nights in Southern Manitoba. With a group of musicians jamming late into the night warmed by a woodstove and by the sound of music. Those beginning's lead her to British Columbia's Cowichan Valley for inspiration and to be closer to her family. Cara is the daughter of charismatic Celtic Tenor and banjo player Chuck McCandless who raised Cara on bluegrass, traditional Celtic, folk, blues, and rock & roll. Cara's ear was being exercised even before she began walking. Cara played clarinet in concert band from grade 3 to grade 12 all the while following her Father from town to town, show to show, festival to festival, slowly getting a feel for her future. It wasn't until after graduating high school that Cara picked up a guitar and soon after wrote her first song, which has lead to a repertoire of 70 plus original songs. Cara's folk/grunge style is deep and edgy so don't let her bubble gum looks fool you. Cara will reach into your soul and the lyrics she sings will invite you into hers. Cara's self-taught guitar style is unique and combines flawlessly with her "sultry-soul thick voice" -Monday Magazine, Victoria. Cara's original compositions are true stories penned through life's experiences and accompanied with musicality that creates a picture in the listener's mind.

Turn up your speakers, click "Play" and listen to "No Escape" by Cara McCandless

So Far in the Biz…

Cara has toured Western Canada as a backup singer for "YellowbellY" and has fine-tuned her stage presence since her first show 20 years ago. In 2000 Cara was a winner of 100.3 The Q's radio contest, "Rocktoria" that enabled her to record three songs with a producer and gain radio airplay to a "pop" audience. Staying true to her roots, Cara has returned to folk music and is back where she belongs. Cara is currently playing bass with "The McCandless Family Band" and is waiting the release of their debut recording "Up Yer Glass" which is due out in late 2010.


What's on the Horizon…

Cara is going to continue to perform and gain exposure for the release of her own debut album "In the Sun" coming soon in 2011. Cara plans to tour Folk Festivals across Canada and with those experiences Cara will continue to write songs of loss, love, and longing. "Cara's Beth Orton/ Natalie Merchant style is as radio ready as it is challenging."-Mike Devlin, Times Colonist, Victoria.

Learn more about Cara McCandless and listen to more of her great tunes at www.reverbnation.com/caramccandlessinfo

Contact: caramccandless@hotmail.com

Guardians of the North, by Susan Christensen

Panic in the air.
Did you hear that?
What do you mean, Don't be silly?
Hey! Why're you slapping at Me?
Ohhh, God! Run! Get in the truck!
For heaven's sake! It's only a few
Black fly bites! Ooow!

What's that thundering?
Look! On the horizon, over there!
It's caribou.
Stampeding...
Running for their lives!
What a God-forsaken land.
Not fit for man nor beast!

No. A pristine wilderness
Untouched by man.
A delicately balanced ecosystem.
Guarded from despoiling
by God's
     tiniest
       warriors.

~ By Susan Christensen

Micki Findlay, Vancouver Island photographer

Profile of an Artist

Micki Findlay is an award-winning, freestyle 'photo-artist' who has a passion for the arts which include the theater, music and computer graphics. She was to discover, later on in life, that she possessed a love for photography after receiving a digital
camera from her husband as a gift.

With a keen eye for artistic detail, and putting her graphic art skills to work, she lovingly pours hours into her craft to perfect it, while bringing a contemporary, unique, artsy feel to her images. She has a knack for bringing her images 'to life' with her post-processing techniques and use of vibrant colours.

Photography runs in her family…her mother was, at one time, the official photographer for the Canadian Armed Forces. Micki recalls having to pose for hundreds of photos until her jaw hurt from smiling.
Her late and great Aunt Ella had been a professional black & white photographer, back when colour film had not yet been developed, so to speak.

Micki feels very blessed in life, appreciating the talents God has given her and the magnificent beauty in the world He created. She believes it a privilege to capture some of that beauty and to share it with others for their enjoyment. Living on breathtaking Vancouver Island, BC, Canada, she is never at a loss for inspiration.



Micki is known as 'The Singing Photographer' due to her ongoing involvement in music. At six years old she was performing and competing in music festivals as a vocalist and pianist and continued to do so throughout her teen years. At 17 years of age, she was chosen to compete at the BC Finals where she won first place two years consecutively. She was then chosen to represent Canada in various competitions throughout the British Isles with The Royal Conservatory Choir from Victoria, BC.

She runs her own singing telegram business called 'Tickleberry Telegrams'.

Micki is co-creator in an online shop called A2Sea Creations. It features unique, beach-inspired treasures, handcrafted on the west coast of Vancouver Island, BC.

Meander, poetry by Rojan Zét

Like a flower
right in the middle
your figure appeared
carrying out trash...
a good sign I thought
and so appropriate.
One quick word left
me there centered to
continue with a sigh
on my rocky circuit
leaving at your waiting
threshold for someone
a foil-wrapped delivery
silently unfolding.

Rojan Zét

Donna Hogan, friends

Friends
Watercolour by Donna Hogan

Donna Hogan, watercolours

Donna Hogan is on the road again. She loves the road and the road loves her back.

On the road again, it's great

Her continuing contributions to the Café site include:

• Out of Africa
• Home is where the heart is
• friends
• Lighthouse
• A Winter Skate
• Flower Basket

I don’t know if you were looking

poetry by Manuel Erickson

I don’t know if you were looking:

You’d put me in a carriage

and pushed it to St. Clair and Oakwood

Did you see me look up

at the lady wearing a beret

in the bright red-green-white Sweet Caporal ad

painted on the drugstore’s brick wall?

She sparkled in the sun and smiled

I giggled

I thought she was you

People appeared. They

leaned under the carriage hood, cooing

I smelled their smoke and heard your voice

Street cars clanged their bells at car drivers

I jiggled as you pushed the carriage

over cracks in the sidewalk

I felt warm and wet and it took a long time

to get home

Rock Balancing on Vancouver Island

photo by Susan Miller, hauntress Rathtrevor Beach Parksville

"Rock balancing is an art, discipline, or hobby depending upon the intent of the practitioner in which rocks are balanced on top of one another in various positions; these scenes may then be photographed."
~ wikipedia

...leprechauns show thyselves

Fools Rush In, poetry by Yvonne MacKenzie

gathered in solemn assembly
the celestial chorus are busy shining halos
and rehearsing their mission

meanwhile
god whistles a happy tune
and the fool comes yipping round her heels
panting with glee

unlike the measured tread of angels
fools rush in to the arms of the beloved
turning cartwheels through the mud
and jumping off the dock with their clothes on

guided by joy
the fool steps from the boat
and glides across the waves
with no thought of separation from source

joined to all creation
she dances on the edge of the abyss
the vastness of her love
entangled with the limbs of the sky

her heart heeds the instinct of birds
soaring upward through the clouds
never doubting for an instant
God’s will for wings


Yvonne MacKenzie

Ride Vancouver Island

Digital collage by Ron Greenaway inspired by the poem of Rojan Zét titled "Tomato".

"Ride this flow", digital collage by Ron Greenaway

Tomato, poetry by Rojan Zét

Through watered eyes soaring, my
jacket billowed roaring to clouds
behind Pre-voh with glances quick
and wondering, perfumed sound thundering.
Airbrush tresses round me flowing,
wind has found me, weaves the going
and the coming swift below me.

Black tar-zipped lines evaporate;
pavement fur, oaks, undulate. Spokes
winding over pebble squeals and
shots from pipes decelerating,
staccato nails around a curving track
tangent to the Queen's circle attack
speed ascending, the road bending.

Clutchless fastshift, loud and snorting,
red and gleaming chrome sun sporting lake
and island gliding by, heart in my
outstretched hand, leather on the fly,
ready now, completely mine wanting to
go, take me higher, off the stand,
and ride this flow, anytime.



Rojan Zét

Vancouver Island Bunny

You can run but you can't hide.

photo by Susan Miller, hauntress Rathtrevor Beach Parksville

Mary Donlan

Profile of an Artist

SeedBed 18

SeedBed 17

Mary Donlan is a painter based in Campbell River on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada.

She was born in Grimsby, Ontario and earned a B.F.A. at the University of Western Ontario where she studied under Patterson Ewen. Mary lived in London for 20 years where she was a member of the artist-run Forest City Gallery. While living in London she was introduced to the work of many terrific local artists. She moved to Vancouver Island in 2007 where she started the SeedBed series which is an ongoing body of art.

Mary paints in the tradition of abstract expressionism with a collage aesthetic. Mary is developing her painterly vocabulary is based on the plant world – forests and garden are her favourite places.

The intention of Mary's work is to express the creative process. “In my paintings I aim for the effect of layered images, fragments, occurrences. I see the process of layering, merging, shaping and synthesizing as simulating the creative process.”

For more information and to see more of Mary's art please visit Mary Donlan's website at : www.marydonlan.ca

Seedbed Collage 12

Ro Jan Z8, Beachcomber

Profile of an Artist

A Turtle Islander, most comfortable near salt water, raised on Lulu Island, formed by coastlines.... The snaking shore leads me on, ever onward, to the sound of white noise, surf, a pounding in my ears - tinnitis some call it, but after a while you get used to it and listen to the differences in its pitch, its frequency, its tone, and imagine the encoded signals, communications from another dimension - secret messages. Along the way there are findings, curiosities to discover. Ideas slide across sand and patterns emerge. The substitionary principle appears and shape-shifting begins. Dark shadows flit across the periphery of my vision. Then it becomes harder to determine the bad from the good, the right from the wrong, true from false, and slowly the trust-informed child becomes the bewildered skeptic, careful and reclusive. Recursion. What is it we can believe? Who is it we can trust? The weather changes. Rolling mist separates us from clear sky and puts me in a damp fog. The fire smoke rises into a falling rain seeking the elusive glass ball.

There are metal ones too, found half-way up the west coast of Vancouver Island near Cougar Annie's outpost where I caressed the cheeks of enormous glazed rocks, wept at the suffering evident in their gashed and shattered sides, and kissed them. I joined their private celebration, one white man and a black bear crashing their party but could I really feel uninvited to find myself at this gathering? No, I felt welcome, privileged and humbled to be allowed entry to such a grand ballroom, in such exclusive company, led by Nature herself and no other human contact except the jettisoned remnants of hemispheric sea-traffic under the foreshore trees beneath the bluest skies, in the clearest air - walking on land built by rain and drifting wood, to join the dance with these stones.

Most people don't know I have operated cranes, lived in a cave under the road in Gibraltar, sailed an ice-covered 87' ketch in the north Atlantic, graduated with an English degree from one of Canada's top universities without taking a Shakespeare course, written a skit in Pin-Yin Mandarin, and worked up and down the BC coast as a lightkeeper. Actually there's an awful lot people don't know, and many who don't care so it all works out in the end. We live, we die, someone else lives and dies. There's the sea, here's the shore, a perfect fit, there's no money involved. We just walk over it all and find what we look for, with no reason to continue when our innocence is finally and completely lost. Fractals. Ah, but what is this life? What is life for, for me, for you? That my dear, is the question. And then to live it well, this is something we humans have yet to learn, yet to discover, yet to find, yet to search for. It may be something we have simply lost. Some of us have begun looking, finding our balance, and keep hoping....

Are You In My Tribe?
The tribe I belong to is based in mutuality, reciprocity, and equilateral co-operation. It is a shared potluck group meant for all, not just for the rich or for the poor, for the fat or for the skinny, and recognizes that one person's time is not worth more or less than another's, it does not require weekend retreats for money beyond costs. This tribe is line-of-sight - within touching distance - it values respect, sensitivity, understanding, and justice, freely given from one to another without need for profit, and is based on willing exchange of experience and knowledge. The people of this tribe are connected to mother earth with the understanding that physical health relates to harmony with the natural world, that spiritual health relates to harmony with the universe, and that emotional health relates to harmony with the self and others. Each member is respected for their work in bringing community a little closer to such a reality. Are you in? Pattern recognition.

Rojan is a Cowichan Valley resident and believes poetry has the ability to reveal significant truth. As a visual artist, Rojan embraces the deliberation poetic thinking brings to a subject including text as a medium but feels the art really lies in the thinking, in the reflection, perhaps even more so than in the writing about it. As such, text becomes data, and writing - nothing more than observations for a theory, as though we are the sensors for Spirit beyond ourselves, antennae as it were - articulating and identifying sensory input for a universal cognition. Evidence.

No longer at one of the Pillars of Hercules in a cave under a road, or isolated at some remote coastal outpost contemplating the potential offered by cereal-box promises, this passive observer remains pre-occupied with the state of being, and of being Human, realizing the rise of another potential - the successful Human Inadequate (imposed failure of authentic self-actualization for increasing numbers of social stake-holders). In his struggling with form and content, Rojan has produced six chapbooks of poems, short stories, and personal essays, and is always at work on another text, presentation, image, or song while making music in efforts at preserving sanity in a broken world gradually realizing who the bad guys really are, and it's not who they want you to think. Rojan's words and images can be found at www dot rojan dot freeservers dot com.

Two Contrasting Poems

1

and look across the gap

© 2007 Manuel Erickson

I don't want to remember the Kinsol:


I want to walk on its curve, smell its wood beams,

hear its creaks in the wind.

I want to stand in the middle,

listen to the rumble of Koksilah's rapids below;


I want to know the cuff-linked

architects who designed it,

the bearded, rough workers who built it,

the stripe-hatted train crews who drove smoky locies across it;


I don't want to look at

a mere replacement:

smaller, narrower, less sturdy

and know that it severs me

from my history, culture, tradition:

no replacement can "be" the Kinsol Trestle.


I want to walk on the Kinsol

like the hikers from near and far

who gather at each unapproachable end—

and look across the gap.


2

closing the gap

© 2011 Manuel Erickson

I don't need to remember the Kinsol:


I can walk on its curve, smell its wood beams,

hear its creaks in the wind.

When I stand in the middle

I hear the sweet music of Koksilah's rapids below;


in my imagination I know the cuff-linked

architects who designed it,

the bearded, rough workers who built it,

the stripe-hatted train crews who drove smoky locies across it;


for this is no mere replacement:

though narrower, it is not less sturdy;

this trestle joins me

to my history, culture, tradition:

this is the Kinsol Trestle.


I walked on the Kinsol with a crowd of thousands,

joined hikers and bikers from near and far

gathered at each closed-in gap,

shared smiles, laughter, chatter and happiness

as we walked from one end to the other.

Gone Fishin' , poetry by Rojan Zét

You can wait 'til it's too late for visits. Light a candle by your bed and
watch how the light flickers. Think of times you've been together,
maybe times you shared a beer.

When I'd visit he would always have a word of cheer for me, take my
hand, and grip it warmly, though it might have been a year or more
since last we'd hugged each other.

Sometimes I would show him pictures of the places where I'd been and
sitting on the bed he'd wonder, "how's your Mom," or, "how's your
brother." Always he would be so grateful for the smallest little thing and
thank me, thank you, thanks for coming when we finished visiting.

I thought I saw the candle flicker just before I fell asleep, then dreamed
that it was he who travelled while I slept and breathed so deep. He went
before me gap-toothed, and hollow faced, this man with twinkle in his
eyes, for whom I'd smuggled garlic sausage and raw onion.

There he was out on the ocean,
gently rocking on the sea,
sunlight sparkled while he dallied
on his boat just big enough for three.
I heard a strike, the line went zing,
he hooked a big one, let it run,
and stood to see it flashing golden
in the evening's setting sun.
He played with it and when about
a half an hour or so had passed,
he brought that fish up to the boat,
gaffed it in and made a cast again
and soon another fish lay thumping
on the floor but still he stood
and when the third fish found its mates
there wishing for the deep blue sea, he
folded up his rod and said, "If someone
asks just tell them God and I've
gone fishin'."

Late that night I tossed and turned. While I'd slept the flame had
burned to cold and dark. There was no doubt - in early morning light
I saw - the flick'ring candl'd flickered out.


Rojan Zét

An Alien’s Brief Introduction to Earth

© 2011 Manuel Erickson

MY PLANET'S NAME IS EARTH. It is a misnomer because seventy per cent of it is covered by water, so it should have been called Water. But it doesn’t really matter, because it’s not as important as other features, attributes and the activities of its dominant species, the bi-pedal human race. But let’s start at the beginning.

Earth is in our Sun’s habitable zone, unlike other planets in our solar system. We live on the third planet from our middle-aged, yellow Sun. The first planet is too hot for life because it is very close to the Sun; the second is covered in impenetrable clouds that admit very little sunlight and has a runaway greenhouse effect resulting in a global mean temperature of about 460 degrees Celcius; the fourth is rather cold with a thin atmosphere that has very little oxygen. All the others and their moons are far too cold for life, though some of the moons might have simple life forms. There are four gas giants that probably have no life and a ninth planet that is too small, too cold and too far away from the sun to support life.

My planet is very beautiful, especially as seen from fairly close up, from no farther away than Earth’s moon (mean distance 384,000 kilometres). The moon is our sole natural satellite and is considered to be rather large for a planet as small as Earth. Scientists suspect that the moon is an offspring of Earth, caused by a glancing blow imparted by a rather large, perhaps planetary, object far back in time—at least four billion years ago. They think that the resulting debris accreted and solidified as it orbited Earth, becoming the moon.

When viewed from space, Earth appears to be a mix of colours, especially white, blue, green and brown. The white is mostly swirling clouds—the swirl is caused by the coriolis effect which has opposite reactions in the northern and southern hemispheres; the blue is the oceans; the green is vegetation; and the brown is land without vegetation—deserts. Some of our astronauts, flying hundreds of kilometres above Earth and looking down on her, have reported that they wept because of her sheer beauty.

Earth is nearly spherical; she is slightly flattened at her poles. She rotates on her axis once in a bit less than twenty-four hours (by our clocks). The axis is tilted approximately twenty-three degrees, creating four seasons in most places on the surface of Earth. It completes a single orbit of our medium-sized Sun approximately every 365 of these 24-hour periods we call “days.” We call a single orbit of the Sun a “year.”

The poles are the coldest places on my planet. The north pole has no land mass around it, but the south pole has a continent we call Antarctica. Both poles have a substantial amount of ice, but it is melting at an increasing rate, thanks to human activities that produce “greenhouse gases” such as carbon dioxide, a trapper of heat. Our planet is slowly warming, and most climate scientists think that all of the ice in the Arctic (the northern-most region) and the Antarctic will have melted in another ninety years or so. A rather large island, called Greenland, also in the north, is covered with a layer of ice that has been thinning somewhat rapidly over the past few decades; its melt-waters run into the ocean. The scientists are concerned that all this melting will cause sea levels to rise, resulting in the loss of coastal areas, the inundation of seaside cities and the culling of millions of our people.

Climate has changed many times in Earth’s geologic history, say the scientists. This time, however, it appears to be mainly the result of human activities such as the burning of fossil fuels: coal and oil. These fuels provide the motive power for electricity plants around the world, but they are considered “dirty” fuels. Nuclear energy is also used for this purpose; while it is cleaner, it is known to be dangerous because of radiation. Many people are against it.

The biggest problem for Earth’s dominant species (humans) is the environment, spurred by our faulty economic and political systems. These systems praise the cutting of forests that acted as heat sinks when they were alive, the mining and burning of dirty fuels (coal, oil), the manufacture of goods that are bad for the environment (plastics, a derivative of oil) and overpopulation (this last supported by some of our religions). They have resulted in a hole in our ozone layer, bad air and water, degradation of lands around the world, five graveyards of discarded plastics that are floating in gigantic gyres in the North and South Pacific, North and South Atlantic and the Indian Oceans, sickness (especially in the poorer areas of the globe), ignorance and poor education. Our faulty systems support the aggrandizement of wealth and power.

Our poor treatment of Earth’s environment appears to be having a deleterious effect on weather patterns. Storms seem to be more severe and more frequent than before, flooding areas that have not usually suffered from floods as often, and causing droughts in other areas that have lasted for up to ten of our years. Hurricanes are more frequent and more dangerous—an example is the one we call Katrina that occurred at the city of New Orleans on the Gulf of Mexico in the United States, Earth’s wealthiest country. Floods have happened in eastern and western Canada; there has been a very long drought in Australia; and earthquakes have become more numerous, especially in Haiti, Japan and New Zealand. The most recent earthquakes were in Japan where damage was caused to a nuclear power reactor that resulted in its being shut down, and in New Zealand where a large city was virtually destroyed. Volcanoes, too, have been far more active than in the past one hundred years, though that might not be related to our bad treatment of the environment.

Our weather scientists have warned for many years that weather will change and become more severe if we don’t alter our treatment of the life-giving environment.

Some people are actively engaged in reducing environmental problems through education and action, but this is equal to the effect of a mote of dust on a galaxy. These people know that marine life tries to eat the plastics and birds also mistake it for food; they are trying to mitigate the disaster, but without much success. Slowly, Earth is losing its natural life because of the careless and ignorant throwaway habits of her dominant species.

From where has this garbage originated? The answer is complicated, but in general, it comes from corporations that manufacture it. Plastic comes in many forms: bottles, containers of every size and shape, sheets… These things are cheaper to make from plastics than from metals. The problem arises when the materials inside the containers are used up because most people simply throw the containers away. While there are recycling programs, there are not enough of them and they are not under-pinned by stringent laws. Such under-pinning would recognize the emergency caused by our throwaway society by making it illegal not to recycle and re-use these things.

It must stop because we are in danger of asphyxiating ourselves and, ultimately, of causing global epidemics of illnesses due to loss of food sources through the continuing despoliation of our only home in the universe.

The dominant species on my planet is not united; that is, it has not organized itself into a unitary, global government. This situation diminishes the species, making it very difficult to deal with our major problem, the environment, on a global basis. As a result, the planet is politically divided into separate pieces that we call countries, each having its own territory. This statement is not entirely accurate, however, because many countries have several nations contained within them. As an example, the United States, Canada, Russia and many other countries have several nations living inside them, most of whom have decided to be a part of that country.

Sometimes, an ethnic group will decide to form its own country, or nation-state. This happened in Germany more than one hundred years ago. When it occurs, a period of “ethnic cleansing” takes place in which those who are not ethnically related to the dominant ethnicity are forced to leave for other countries. This can, and does, happen even in small countries: in 1948, Israel forced Arabs out of their homes in which they had lived for generations. These people became refugees in nearby countries and in areas close to Israel. They are now called Palestinians because the land Israel occupies was once known as Palestine. It has been a throbbing, festering political and ethnic sore since 1948.

Another small country where this happened is Yugoslavia. It contained several ethnicities that broke into separate nation-states, each with its own ethnic group.

While Earth is a lovely, serene-looking planet, astronauts who have experienced profound emotions while viewing her from space have remarked that, from orbit, one cannot see the artificial national boundaries. From above, all the land, all the oceans seem to form a continuous, unified whole: no boundaries, no revolving gyres. We humans need to replicate that idea in our form of planetary organization.

Can you help?

Dominic Fetherston

Profile of an Artist

The House of All Sorts (Emily in the Attic) 2011 acrylic

Katrina In the Village 2011 acrylic

Dave Brubeck acrylic

I had an early introduction to the production and the sales of my art. When I was 8 or 9 years old, I spent time under the stairs to the basement of our house in my “art studio” drawing cartoons of characters I had imagined. Then I would go door-to-door to my neighbors in Saskatoon, trying to sell my “one-of-a-kind, affordable art.” As a child, it was exciting to be capable of earning anything, even if it was only a penny or two for one of my scribblings. In 1967 a penny was enough to buy a double piece of bubble gum or a few chewy candies, so it all seemed like a pretty great deal to me; I was having fun and getting paid to do it.

This month, I am turning 53, and I realize I am basically doing the same thing I did when I was 9, although, I’ve stopped going door to door. But I still make time to play with my art and to allow my ideas to churn and formulate, and because playing is such fun, I’m pretty much involved in that.

Over the years, I have had the opportunity to teach many individuals and groups and I’ve facilitated a wide range of arts and counselling classes. It is getting kind of hackneyed to say that I enjoy working with and learning from others, but I like living my life searching for more information, additional techniques and education, and the balance of taking in and putting out, makes what I do mostly fun and very fulfilling.

I am a BC born, Saskatchewan and BC educated painter and mixed media artist. I was diagnosed with glaucoma when I was a young man, and I’ve undergone multiple eye surgeries in Canada and in Mexico. Information about my journey to Mexico to find competent, safe and sane health care is on my website. I’m a married father of one and step-father of four who enjoys my time in my basement studio that I lovingly refer to as “Caution Studio” on southern Vancouver Island at Esquimalt, BC.

My website: cautionstudio.ca

The Filigree of Cedar

Photograph by Rojan Zét

The Karma of Stones, poetry by Yvonne MacKenzie

you were so frightened

so I said

look, it's part of the mystery you already know

the filigree of cedar in the forest depth

sublime in damask light


the abandon of finches in the birdbath

flicking golden droplets upwards

the flash of stars in the night sky

igniting a passion for travel


you'll feel empty

but not lacking in essence

like you've come home to yourself

and the freedom of not wanting


leaving no-one behind

you'll be the air we breathe

the refreshment of rain in the garden


the question of karma will vex you no more

the things you gathered, the burden of regret

will seem like odds and sods

you want to shake

from your pocket


you'll see yourself in every gleaming sea washed stone

and rejoice

knowing one day

a child will reach down with wonder

and add you to his treasure



~ Yvonne MacKenzie