Month: November 2020

Back in March when all of this craziness broke out in Kelowna, my parents were in Cuba. Yeah, you read that correctly. It was my mom’s spring break since she is a teacher back in my home town of Trail, BC. My dad had taken time off work to go, and my aunt and uncle were joining them. Christmas of 2019 before this all started my sister, parents, and myself had all gone to Cuba over the holidays and loved it so much that my parents wanted to go back without us for some adult time. I remember the night I drove from my apartment in Kelowna down to the Best Western to meet them as they had just arrived in Kelowna late that night for their flight early the next morning. Things hadn’t broken out just yet, but I had been to the nail salon earlier that week and it was only still in China. I watched the TV screens in there while getting my nails done and remember saying to my nail tech something along the lines of “Wow, that’s crazy,” like I never imagined it would make its way to Canada in the time that it did, or frankly ever. Anyways, as I was visiting my parents, my mother had made the comment “Could you imagine if we had to quarantine or something in Cuba? I mean it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” The four adults and me chuckled at her comment and not a thought of this actually happening really crossed my mind. After a few hours and a dinner out I headed back to my apartment, wished my parents a safe flight and a lovely trip. To my knowledge, this was going to be the best trip ever for them, being the first time my parents have gone on a tropical trip without me and my sister. No one thought it would make its way around the world in the short amount of time that it did. Little did I know, all hell would break loose as soon as they arrived in Cuba.

A few days after, my sister called me sick. When my sister gets sick it’s not just a small deal. In previous years she has had mono, pneumonia, strep, you name it, and never usually complains either. When she first had mono my family and I were on vacation and we all thought she just had a cold, and so did the nurses there. When we arrived home, the nurses told her she had mono and walking pneumonia. My mother felt terrible for not knowing or feeling as much sympathy as she probably should have that trip for my sister. She did every activity we had planned for that trip and rarely complained about feeling unwell.

When my sister had called me telling me she was sick while my parents were off in Cuba, I coincidentally was getting my nails done again. I picked up the phone thinking it would be a normal phone call only to hear her gasping for air and balling her eyes out. She was really sick, and had gone to the doctor earlier that day to see if she had strep, mono, or possibly Covid, which hadn’t even reached Kelowna yet, but it was getting close. The doctor had said, “We can’t test you for Covid because we don’t have the supplies to do so yet.” My sister replied with “Well you don’t think it’s Covid, do you?” And of course, the doctor replied with “It could be.” As any nineteen year old or human in this first state of panic about Covid, with her sister in Kelowna, parents in Cuba, and stuck at home alone she blew into full panic mode. While she was telling me this on the phone I told her there’s no way she has Covid only to get the most panicked, disgusted looks from everyone in the nail salon. After me and my roommate were finished with our nails, I called my sister back in the car and told her I would come home to take care of her, but I was also finishing up school for the semester, and so was she. She convinced me to stay in Kelowna, but that day was hell.

I am not kidding when I say as soon as my parents got to Cuba was when everything broke loose. After texting my mom back and forth telling her how the news was going nuts with outbreaks first in Canada, then Vancouver, and then closer and closer to Kelowna. Me and my roommate saw pictures on every social media platform of toilet paper supplies being completely gone and then we really started to panic. We headed to Superstore prepared to buy many perishables in preparation to basically not leave the house. I sent my mother photos of the isles we encountered with no soup, toilet paper, or any sort of canned items left for us.

Photos by Chanel Orr

This was scary for me, and I soon became worried about my little sister back in Trail. I thought if there’s nothing left in Kelowna, what will a small town like Trail be like? My roommate and myself ended up grabbing packaged soups, something I would never have normally grabbed and whatever else we could get our hands on. This was so crazy to me and living alone I didn’t have any idea how to handle this.

Later that day my mother had called me from Cuba freaking out. She was afraid they actually would have to quarantine in Cuba, and the thought of airlines shutting down and not being able to get back home worried her even more. This is the day I truly started to panic. I sat in my apartment with my roommate, the only person keeping me sane at this point as we spent our days watching the numbers go up on the television and texting every person we knew to see how they were handling this insanity.

My parents ended up making it home from Cuba a week later in a panic. I did not see them after they arrived back in Kelowna as they headed straight home to quarantine for two weeks as they were told. I facetimed them every day which I never usually do. We were all going crazy, and I felt like I really wanted my parents to be around at this point.

A few weeks went by of keeping our bubbles small, doing grocery shops as little as possible, and picking up new hobbies to keep us entertained besides school work. I think the only good thing about April was that I did significantly better in school once it was transferred online because no one knew how to restructure their classes so many of my finals were open book. Me and my roommate tie-dyed many articles of clothing for fun, and made this new whipped coffee recipe almost every day. I have to say it was delicious, and about the only thing I looked forward to every morning during the insanity.

Photo by Chanel Orr

Now it is November 2020, almost December, we have been online since the beginning of the semester and let me just say, Covid sucks. I remember thinking when this all happened it would be a month, maybe two of this virus and now it has been several. I feel as though my mental health has been a rollercoaster this year, adjusting to school being online, being stuck in my apartment, and wanting so badly to get myself in shape at the gym but also worrying there could be an outbreak there. I feel like my mind is constantly saying “Screw Covid, I’m sick of it” because I miss my friends, social life, being active and more, and on the other hand I am frankly just scared of it. I get worried many times when I am out in public and get scared that a mask is the only thing that can protect me from the virus currently. I also feel like I am constantly judged in our world right now. You are judged if you do or don’t believe masks help, and you are judged if you are for or against getting the Covid vaccine that is supposed to be arriving soon. It is complete madness. This year has made many people adjust their lives. This virus, school being online, feeling very alone at times and much more has turned my life upside down. I have learned to adjust to these changes as we all have had to do. I can’t help but wonder what our world will look like in a few years from now. Some of the things Covid has taught me have made me think, why haven’t I thought to wash my hands after that before? For example, after pumping my gas. This is a big one, and actually something I will forever do from now on being that it is pretty gross. I’d probably pick up a sandwich and lick my fingers without even thinking before this pandemic. Long story short, we are going to get through this together. My advice to all my fellow peers reading this is to make time for yourself. Write in a personal journal daily to organize your thoughts, do some self care, eat some good food, maybe learn some new recipes, and most importantly do what makes you happy right now. For me, this is decorating early for Christmas as of November 10th because why not make the best holiday last  a little longer in this crazy year? I think we all deserve it.

 

 

“Creativity takes courage.” – Henri Matisse

 

I’ve often heard it said that creativity can have a positive impact on your mental health, but what about the other way around?

 

Having depression and social anxiety, I dove into research for this blog post and was surprised by the results. I should preface this by saying, it was just a quick google search to see what kind of results it would bring back. 90% of the results it did return talked about how creativity helps relieve anxiety and depression, and how to tap into your creativity to improve your mental health and wellbeing. But I was hard-pressed to find an article that addressed the issue of what to do when your creativity drops because of your mental health.

 

The more I thought about it the more I couldn’t understand why it was being addressed one way, but not the other. It was my husband who pointed out what I had failed to see. “Wouldn’t you just take care of your mental health first? Shouldn’t that lead into the other?” *Insert facepalm here* Seriously!? That should have been the obvious solution. The logical one. But my brain couldn’t get there on its own. Usually, I would berate myself and just completely break myself down for not realizing that there was an obvious answer to that question, but in the last couple of weeks, I’ve been learning to go easy on myself. Neither of us is having an easy time right now with the way the world is.

 

Last week, when Dr. Bonnie Henry adjusted the rules again with an expected end date of Dec 7^th, I was at the Staples Studio with a friend and completely broke down. The week before, my mental health had taken a nose dive and I had just barely crawled myself up again, and now with the added restrictions, I didn’t know if I was going to be able to survive the rest of the year. For the purpose of this blog and to put it into context, I’ve struggled with self-harm in the past from the time I was 12 until my early 20s. I was afraid that if, or when, my mental health took another dive during those two weeks, would I be able to resist going back to old ways of coping?

 

“Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.” – Brene Brown.

 

My mom and husband used to ask me why I would put so much ink on my skin. I’ll tell you what I told them. My tattoos serve two purposes. One, to cover up my scars, and two, I get tattoos so that I won’t self-harm. I know this blog might be a bit too vulnerable for some to read, but it’s taken me a long time to be able to talk about my struggles with mental health. And I believe that if we aren’t willing to talk about it then we’re not really moving towards stopping the stigma around it. We can keep educating people about the statistics and ask them to be understanding, but if we’re not willing to be at least a little vulnerable then can there really be change?

 

“What mental health needs is more sunlight, more candor, and more unashamed conversation.” – Glenn Close

 

After calling up my tattoo artist and making an appointment for December, I realized that in the last ten years I’ve learned other ways of dealing with my depression and anxiety. What I needed to do was go easy on myself. If the only thing I did that day was get out of bed, then that was okay. I also had to take time for myself each day and put myself first. That was a hard one because I’m such a people pleaser. I have this fear that if I say no to someone, they will hate me. Even at the risk of my mental health and wellbeing, I’ll put everything aside to help them.

 

Self-care is much more important now than it’s ever been. The things we were used to doing for self-care have been drastically reduced or canceled (traveling, getting our hair and nails done, visiting friends and family, attending a fitness class, having an in-person session with our counselor, etc.) and it’s affecting us drastically. We were made for community not isolation from each other. So, I came up with a list of all the things I’ve been doing for self-care over the last several months. I thought I would share five of the things that have helped me. You’ve probably already heard some of these before, and if not then I hope you find a couple that will help you.

 

1. Take a Social Media break

I know for a lot of people this will be the hardest thing to do because we already feel so isolated from each other, but it’s important to give yourself that break. Since March all of my social media accounts have been flooded with COVID-19 related articles, memes, and the ever-changing rules, as well as people arguing with each other, and just general hate towards each other. Add the past US Election on top of it and it was a lot. It was overwhelming. Especially because I tend to take on other people’s emotions (yay for being an empath).

 

2. Have a bath

Take 10 minutes and lock yourself away in your bathroom. Add a bubble bar from Lush or some essential oils, and a glass of wine (or your favourite non-alcoholic drink), and take the time to relax and clear your mind. Even taking just a few minutes a day to spend with yourself will make the world of a difference. I’ll even bring my kindle in the bath with me. Which brings me to my next point.

 

3. Read a book (not a textbook!)

I find reading very relaxing. It’s also one of the many ways I find can refuel my creativity with new story ideas or even just help clear my head after a busy day. Getting lost in a fictional world for however long can is great for relieving any anxiety one might be feeling about the day or an upcoming event. The one positive thing that’s come out of COVID for me is I was able to put a sizeable dent in my to be read pile. I’ve also added a lot to it because of other’s recommendations whether from friends, family, or BookTok.

 

4. Get more sleep

My trainer keeps trying to hammer this into me and I think it’s finally beginning to stick. Working graveyard shifts, my sleep was, and sometimes still is, all over the place. It was never something that was a priority for me because I always had something that needed to get done. I’ve noticed that whenever I deprive myself of sleep, my anxiety and depression get worse. According to the CDC, we should be getting between 7-9 hours of sleep a night. Lately, I’ve been making more of an effort to not look at my phone or be on my computer for at least 20-30 minutes before I want to go to bed and I’m finding that on those nights, I get better-quality sleep.

 

5. Go for a walk / Get fresh air

When I find my creativity waning or even just non-existent, taking a walk to get fresh air is a huge help! Sometimes that spark of creativity can be found in nature or just walking around your neighbourhood. Try going downtown, sitting on a bench, and people watch for a bit.

I would love to hear some of the things you’ve been doing to help get you through this year 🙂

(This is a nostalgic piece about what I miss most.)

COVID has hit differently for us all. We all filled our voids with the promiscuity of learning new skills, creating that masterpiece that we just never got around to doing, finally beating the saved file of Mario Sunshine from your GameCube that hasn’t seen the sun since 2002. Others took this time to start companies, become Tik tok famous, or boycott Ellen DeGeneres. I, however, took a basic approach to kick off my self-isolation by attempting to learn the piano. That lasted a good two weeks resulting in a sink of $90 I’ll never get back. My progress was quite minimal. I learnt the beginner’s version of ‘Ode to Joy’ and thought that was good enough. When all my extra activities failed, my lockdown activated a binge. My partner and I have slowly been making our way through our film watch lists. Her, being an animator and me, being a theatre/film snob found it the perfect opportunity to enjoy some quality time together while enjoying one of our favourite dates: movie watching! Before the first lockdown, our ideal date would’ve been cozying up at the cinema watching the latest releases while shoveling the delicacy of movie theatre popcorn in our mouths. I admit I started drooling thinking of the velvet butter sailing through the sea of popped kernels.

 

2x Adult Tickets to ________

1x Medium Popcorn

2x Extra Butter Layered (Of course!)

1x Medium Root beer (for me)

1x Medium Blue Raspberry Slush (for my beautiful date)

 

In Grade 11, my best friend and I had a chemistry project. Now, the interpretations of it were open to our imagination as long as we discussed the chemistry behind it. So naturally, I persuaded her to make our project around the VFX and makeup used in film. There I learned the best tidbit: in the 1946 classic Christmas-drama, It’s a Wonderful Life starring James Stewart and Donna Reed, due to them filming during periods outside of winter they used fake snow. This was a ground-breaking discovery for VFX, they invented their own type of artificial snow. You’d naturally think, “okay, whatever.” But, in scenes where they had a shortage, they turned to corn-flakes. Yes, the cereal. It was a legitimate production job for someone on set to paint these corn-flakes white. And it wasn’t just this movie, many before it used the exact same technique. You may ask, “Kayla, why are you telling us this?” and that is a valid question- there’s a point, I promise! Flash forward to about a month later, I’m sitting across from a beautiful girl at a run-down Chinese buffet in Vernon, BC. This girl just happens to be my future partner and this just so happens to be our second date. We’re getting to know one another, as you do in the early stages. We get our Hogwarts houses out of the way and continue our conversation into discussing movies. I cockily drop the fact of the century and proudly state the only fact that I had bothered to have any research supporting. And let me tell you, I don’t hold back. I go into insane detail about the movie and its use of cornflakes and artificial snow. I like to attribute this as the selling point that really took our relationship off the ground. Maybe school wasn’t so useless after all?

To give further context, from my childhood, one of the fondest memories I have is going to the movies. I loved nothing more than the intense rush of the latest action film that I would then immediately re-enact with my toys the second we got home. My favourite part, however, was during the drive home. Here we’d discuss and analyze the film. This helped me fall more in love with movies. My parent’s worked a lot so, going to the cinema was one of the few things I could really enjoy with them. It became our thing. We soon began to extend that into holidays. “Oh, it’s Christmas? Let’s head on over to the movies!”, “New Year’s Day? I wonder what’s playing?”, “Why don’t we spend your birthday at the drive-in this year?”.

In Vernon, we, have a Towne Theatre (separate from the Cineplex). Where every year come Oscar’s season they’d play all the nominated films. This has always been one of the few things I look forward to every year. It becomes a game. Can you watch them all before showtime? Can you guess who’ll win Best Actress, Best Actor, Best Picture, Best Director, and so on? Similar to our holiday theatre trips, this became a tradition that I hold dearly.

As you can probably tell, movies have always been a big part of my life. They led me to my partner, they helped me bond with my family. I’ve made friend’s easily over movie talk. As a young girl, I dreamed of the chance to see myself on screen. That people would spend money for 1-2 hours of their time experiencing a story from my perspective. But the flame that sparks that desire seems to be slowly diminishing as time progresses. I miss seeing movies. I miss the excitement it brought to my life. I’m grateful that I’ve been able to save money by not repeatedly going out. But a part of my life feels empty. Similar to most, my mental health worsened as the lockdown progressed. One of the few joy bringers has been watching movies with the person I love most.

Going back to our binge, we watched a lot of movies. I would now like to share my take away from them. But, in the interest of time, I’ll only point out a few worth-mentioning titles. These movies have been viewed on multiple streaming services. Ranging from Prime to Netflix, to Disney+.

So, without further ado, I present:

 

Kayla’s Quarantine Binge!

Funny Girl (1968) – Uncomfortably good for how much I do not want to be like Rachel Berry.

Kramer vs Kramer (1979) – Goddess, Meryl Streep killing the divorce drama scene! I’ve made it a personal mission to watch the entirety of her filmography. Currently, I’m sitting pretty at 11% through.

The Goonies (1985) – Can you do the Truffle Shuffle?

Back to the Future (1985) – Pretty weirded out by Marty getting hit on by his mom.

Dirty Dancing (1987) – Let It be known, tackling the final lift is not as easy as it seems.

Heathers (1988) – I was to play Heather Duke in the UBCO’s musical MIS/FITS. I watched this under the pretense of character study but ended up falling in love with the film in its entirety.

Hairspray (1988) – Not the musical, but nevertheless a worthwhile watch.

Back to the Future Part II (1989) – What kind of name is Biff?

Silence of the Lambs (1991) – I can never look at Anthony Hopkins the same.

The Shawshank Redemption (1994) – I honestly thought more people would’ve been shanked.

Hercules (1997) – The Muses were the best part, hands down!

Austin Powers in Goldmember (2002) – Disco Beyoncé. Need I say any more?

Saving Face (2004) – The early 2000’s lesbian romcom that we always knew we needed, but never knew where to find until now.

Kronk’s New Groove (2005) – Picture this: you’ve rented a suite at the romantic Sparkling Hills Resort to celebrate your 3-year anniversary. You suddenly become too bloated and slowly slip into food-coma after eating so much room service. You switch on the TV and are greeted to none other than Kronk. Obviously, you place your dreamy plans on hold and keep watching!

Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007) – I wonder when Helena Bonham Carter got typed-casted as our beloved grimy matted-haired woman? Am I right, or am I right?

Twilight Saga (2008- 2012) – She finally did it folks, my girlfriend trapped me into a one-night binge of these films.

Fast Five (2011) – Was anyone else as impressed as I was during the robbery of the safe? Realistically, physics would’ve not been on their side. Also, can we just appreciate Gal Gadot?!

The Handmaiden (2016) – Absolutely stunning.

First they killed my father (2017) – In 2018 I travelled to Cambodia, it just made sense that I sit down and watch this.

Crazy Rich Asians (2018) – This has become a comfort movie for me. Everything is so on point. I’m currently reading the trilogy that this was based off- I highly recommend the books!

Midsommar (2019) – The boyfriend is like Christopher Robin inside of Winnie the Pooh.

Book Smart (2019) – A fun coming of age movie.

Parasite (2019) – I’ve seen this movie twice and every time it gets better and better!

Where’d you go Bernadette (2019) – Cate Blanchett accompanied by penguins. That’s all a woman really needs.

The Lighthouse (2019) –  I honestly have no idea what to write about this film and that’s one of the great beauties of it.

Queen and Slim (2019) – Soundtrack slaps.

Hamilton (2020) – Like most musical theatre nerds, I became far too invested in this musical. I’m not even ashamed to admit this was my sole reasoning (besides baby Yoda) for subscribing to Disney+.

Over the Moon (2020) – Did y’all know Ken Jeong could sing? Phillipa Soo, *Chef’s kiss*!

Candance Against the Universe (2020) – Come on, I HAD to put this movie on this list.

Have a Good Trip: Adventures in Psychedelics (2020) – Archived footage of Carrie Fisher speaking on her past trips… Sign me up!

Since Covid-19 started the main issue I found myself struggling with on a daily basis was the idea of keeping motivated during a time where my motivation was nonexistent. At the beginning of lock-down, the world around me felt dull. Days mixed with others days creating one big clusterfuck of a year, making it hard to even distinguish one month from another. For all I knew summer had never happened, and it had just been a continuous cycle of the winter season from February until now. I was indoors wondering what the hell to do with my time. The future was so unclear and it was hard to even think of the years before the pandemic. All these goals and plans I had thought of before the new year all began to fade away as soon as 2020 began, before they could even be explored.

Things I took for granted are now so apparent. It’s odd to watch videos from the past years and see groups of people together at concerts or award shows. I definitely miss the small things, like walking around our Okanagan campus with my friends, heading to Tim Horton’s before our classes started, and chatting about our upcoming assignments or our recent horrendous customers we had encountered at work. Life changed so rapidly it was almost hard to keep up, as one day I was with my best friend planning a trip to Las Vegas for my 21^st birthday, and the next thing I knew everything was locked down and she had to rush back home to Australia before all airports closed.

It’s hard to do anything productive or fun these days without feeling like everything is pointless, but after months of staring at my ceiling wondering where my future was headed, I slowly began to get restless and looked for an escape of reality.

Painting

If I was a person who did drugs, I’d be super high all day every day, but I’m not, so I turned to other things like art to keep me company.

I sucked at art in high school, I’m not particularly good at drawing and I feel like I can never get any proper proportions right when drawing people. I had ideas in my mind of what I’d want the piece to look like but could never replicate that same exact image onto paper, thus discouraging me from even trying to create any form of art. Though after watching many YouTube videos on people doing painting at home, and now being a grown adult stuck indoors for days on end, I decided to give it a try again.

Painting to me feels more forgiving than drawing, and if I don’t like something I can either wash it away with water or paint over it. Though it is time consuming and you need to wait between each layer for the piece to dry, it gives me something to look forward to throughout the day.

 

My paintings are definitely mediocre at best, but I do enjoy making them and am happy to display them in my room. It helps me express myself and I like creating abstract pieces as well as pieces inspired by other artists. I never knew that I’d be able to find my own style when it came to painting, but it developed pretty soon after I started. It will be interesting to track my progress and see how much my art style changes as time changes too.

I hope you as a reader are also inspired to start something you’ve been really wanting to try this quarantine, whether it is painting, sewing or learning an instrument! I encourage you to set some time away to do something new, something that makes you feel accomplished and genuinely happy!

Music

With the creations of art and a desperate need for inspiration came discoveries of new music genres. I began listening to hour long lo-fi playlists on YouTube as they helped calm my mind while simultaneously creating an atmosphere that helped my creative juices flow. Usually these videos contain different compilations of lo-fi music, which are mixed with chillwave and hypnagogic pop music. Depending on my mood I usually switch between mostly two kinds of aesthetic lo-fi styles.

The first style is a more soft and dreamier aesthetic melody, which reminds me of a stary night sky, where you the listener are bundled in a blanket drinking a hot cup of lemon tea and pondering about life. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qku9aoUlTXA

 

Cotton Candy Bunnies

My eyes twinkle at dawn,

The pounding in my skull ceases.

Soil itself lays in a flower bed beyond,

 

As thoughts fall to puzzle pieces,

The clouds that reflect animals in a pond.

A starlight beams footprint increases,

 

Ideas dribble down till all facet water is gone,

Oozing from my mind like a glue adhesive.

The citron taste begins to tickle my bitter mouth,

And the traffic comes to a halt.

 

The other style is more instrumental and jazz-like, with beats that give me café vibes! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbuZfY2S2UQ

Its almost nostalgic to me in a way, and reminds me of the time when I went to South Korea with my cousin for a month-long vacation before the world was shutdown. We went to a popular coffeehouse chain called “A Twosome Place”, just because the name had seemed rather funny to us at the time, and we sat in that dimly lit cafe eating cheesecake and drinking overpriced lattes. We laughing about everything and nothing, and at the time the thought of a pandemic plaguing the world seemed like an unlikely event. Now I miss her more than anything, but am patiently looking forward to those days when I can see her again, once the pandemic comes to an end.

Video Games

Video games are a hobby which I had before, but the hours I spent playing them definitely increased quickly once the pandemic started. More particularly, I became addicted to a now very popular game called Animal Crossing New Horizons. This game, which is played on the Nintendo switch, seemed to consume the gaming community right away, and was one of Nintendo’s top selling games in March, right when lock-down started. I have currently logged in more than 600 hours in the game which is about 25 days of straight game-play. I’m not proud of my obsession, but at the same time I am not not proud either.

Basically, here is a short summary of the game for those who don’t know what Animal Crossing is. You create a character and inhabit an island with a bunch of animals on it. The island follows whichever time zone you are in, so when its 1pm in the afternoon in real life, it is 1pm in the game too. These animals can become your friends if you talk to them daily, and they will give you gifts or items to craft. You can also decorate and transformer your island into whatever you’d like as well as collect fossils and paintings, and catch seasonal fish and bugs. You can also visit your friend’s islands and send them menacing letters in the mail, which is pretty hilarious! The game play itself is very wholesome, and as someone who has played the earlier versions of the game when it came out on the Nintendo GameCube in the year 2000, the whole series is very nostalgic to me and brings back warm and fuzzy feelings.

The images above show pictures of my island, Mochi! In 2020 I would count creating an island a form of artistic expression now as every tiny detail is planned out and every island is unique to their players aesthetics! When you start the game all that you are surrounded by are trees, rocks and a whole lot of land. This game gave me a platform to be creative in, and was a nice escape from the reality of what was going on in the real world. It will continue to be my beckon of light in stressful times.

Keeping My Head High

People around me continue to loose their jobs and businesses all across the country are being shut down. People are protesting, screaming at others for wearing a mask, calling them ‘sheep’ for following government mandated rules. Others fear for their lives as they live with compromised immune systems, praying for people to listen and put others before themselves. People are calling everything ‘fake’ or a ‘hox’, and pointing fingers at anyone who disagrees with them.

Its exhausting and tiring keeping up with all the bad news, not to mention stressful and not good for anyone’s mental health. The world honestly feels like its been flipped upside-down and as the year comes to a close, all we can really hope for is a vaccine for Covid-19 in the new year.

To make sure things get resolved quickly, please just follow the rules of our government and be kind to yourself and others, especially essential service workers who are constantly being heckled by others for just doing their jobs. Take up some old or new hobbies, discover some rad music and know that nothing is ever permanent. Motivation is hard to find at a time like this, but taking things one step at a time is the key. I wish you all a Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year.

Sitting down to write out this blog post turned out to be more difficult than I thought it would be at the beginning of the semester. I never used to have trouble sitting down for an hour or so and putting words on a page, especially when it could be about anything I wanted. When it comes to words, I’ve always felt like I’m an unending well, they come forth without too much effort and I mold them into the shape I need them to take for whatever project I’m currently working on.

Words don’t feel that way anymore.

Between March and now, things have changed so much. The state of the world has affected a lot of things, from the way we tackle classes this year to the way we have to live our normal, day-to-day lives. One thing I didn’t expect it to have an affect on was my creativity.

Writing stories has always been my reprieve from the things that cause stress in my life. Something about sitting down to create a whole new world and losing myself in that world and the characters within it is magical. I’ve felt that way about words since I was little. Words are magical. And being someone who can sit down and manipulate them is its own form of magic. Wielding that magic was stress relief. It was happiness.

I’ve always been a homebody. I’m usually perfectly happy to stay home all day. I find endless entertainment in books and movies and television and video games. But I never realized how much the routine of being forced out of the house affected me. Having to leave to go to work or class every day, having to leave to see friends if I wanted social interaction. Those things have all drastically changed this year. And with those drastic changes, I’m learning a lot about my creative well. In particular, I’m learning that it’s not endless, but that it can definitely be refilled.

Having activities that brought me joy outside of writing was more important than I ever realized. Those things made writing special and also brought me inspiration. I often find inspiration through the media that I consume in my own time, but by talking those ideas out with friends or having more time outside the home to take my mind off my creative projects made my time with those creative projects more valuable.

Having all the time in the world to work on creative projects doesn’t necessarily make the time spent on those projects valuable for the person. At least, that’s what I’ve found for myself. I want to write, but the drive isn’t there. The well of ideas feels like it has run dry. Even though I’ve had ideas for projects, none of them seem like they are the right thing to be working on. I’m not passionate about any of them.

Usually, this time of year is NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month, which basically means that for the month of November a bunch of writers join a massive online community and try to write a fifty thousand word manuscript in thirty days. I have taken part every single year since 2013, to varying degrees of success. I’ve written through some of my best ideas this way, albeit horribly. Editing is always mandatory after a month of NaNo. But as November was approaching this year, something didn’t feel right about it. It wasn’t school and the work involved, I’ve been in school for most of the NaNo’s that I’ve taken part in. I know that I can balance the two workloads if I try hard enough. But this year, I looked at November and the excitement that I usually feel to work on a new project just wasn’t there. I had an idea for a new manuscript, I worked on outlining it and getting it ready, but the same magic that I usually feel just wasn’t there.

The more I think about it, the more I think that maybe taking part would have been the right idea. Part of what makes NaNo so magical is the community of writers that come together and encourage each other to work on their projects and reach the daily word count goal. What I’ve been missing so much in a world with a global pandemic is the people. I didn’t think I would as an introvert, but time with the people you’re close with is so important. The community aspect of NaNo is one of the best parts of it in general, and in a world where being social is difficult, I think taking part in a global event would have scratched that itch, at least a little bit.

But it’s hard to commit to that kind of event when your passion for the activity seems to be waning.  And it’s hard to tell if the lack of passion is natural or if its just because of the way that the world is right now.

So I guess the question becomes what do I need to do to reignite that passion and find the magic in words again? Or, is that what I want? Passions wax and wane like phases of the moon, that’s always been true. Writing has just always been a constant, which is why I think this is just a phase I need to get through. So, assuming that’s the case, what do I need to do?

I think the thing that everyone needs to acknowledge this year, whether you identify yourself as a creative person or not, is that we need to be kind to ourselves. We need to take breaks, we need to accept that this pandemic has had an impact on our mental health and our productivity. And for those of us to do identify as creative people, we need to know that it’s okay to not be creative for a while. It’s okay for us to take breaks from our creative endeavors, just as much as it’s okay for anyone else to take a break from their modes of productivity. We need to be kind to ourselves.

I say this to try and remind myself of the truth of that statement. My creative well is empty. I need to give it time to refill. Allowing myself to take a break isn’t a bad thing. The well will refill, ideas and passion will come back. Letting myself consume media without trying to find inspiration for new ideas will refill the well. Taking time with friends, once its allowed again, will refill the well. Not forcing myself to be creative right now will refill the well.

2020 is the year of letting the well refill and being kind to ourselves and, hopefully, to each other. It’s the year of letting your passions wane and understanding that, given time, they will return. I know that posts that say essentially exactly this have been circulating on Facebook for months, but sometimes a random post that isn’t directed to anyone in particular isn’t enough. Sometimes it takes someone looking you in the eye and telling you something you’ve already heard over and over again or seen over and over again for it to actually sink in. So, if you read this, and you are someone who is generally speaking a creative person and you, like me, feel as if your creative well has run dry, this post is for you. This is me looking you in the eyes and telling you that your well isn’t dry, it just needs time to refill. Be kind to yourself.

They say everyone experiences grief differently, I repeated to myself like a textbook, a numb brain to a numb heart and all the dull nerves in between. Why would I cry if the world I was living in was no longer my own? This one couldn’t be mine, nothing about this made any sense. Maybe this world was for the protagonist of an angsty teen fiction, probably written by some 16-year old trying to cope with their own depression, but it certainly wasn’t for me. And how predictable a story it was too! The same contrived plot device used over and over until no one really cared to read the rest. Because, in writing, why have sadness for the point of sadness? Why have grief just to beat in more and more grief? If you hit your character with blow after blow just so it can end with her collapsing in pain, maybe you shouldn’t have written the story at all.

The narrative had become so obvious, it seemed almost tangible before me. Maybe it was because I’m a writer myself, but I could see every tear, every heartfelt line, every repressed emotion eventually laid bare before some caring person with an open heart. And in that moment, from the depths of my soul, I hated it all. I had been feeling a lot of hatred that day, strong feelings waxing and waning over the many hours of uncertainty and anger and guilt for a situation over which I had no control. Now here I was, faced with yet another obvious and set narrative, yet another situation out of my control, and the feelings of hatred came back just as readily as before. I was done with humouring this sappy-ass story of loud, obvious grief and pity from every stranger. That wasn’t going to be my story. If the universe wanted to write my life for me, it was about time I showed it who is in control. This is the year I was forced to take every piece of my life into my own hands.

Yet in this battle for control of my grief, I didn’t expect to stand face-to-face with my loved ones as well. I never realized how many social expectations there are around grieving. We all hear that there are countless ways to grieve, that you should expect any and all behaviours from people coping with loss. But, in practice, this doesn’t seem to hold up. Every form of grief people expect to see are all but small variations of a single type of grief; a public, obvious, and life-interrupting display of emotions that resolve with time and comfort from loved ones. What people don’t realize is that even the most intense of grief can be silent and resolutely private.

When I resolved to tackle my grief on my own, to deal with it as a part of my everyday life, I was immediately met with disbelief. I was told that I was in shock. It’s important to state that I didn’t dismiss this immediately; I know shock can be invisible to the one experiencing it, but as the days went by it became evident that this was not the case. I was able to confront what happened on an intellectual level, if not an emotional one, and not shy away from the truth. And while I openly cried once in front of my friends, the ones that I was most likely to open up to, I then left their conversations for a few days, only to come back to the familiar lighthearted banter that I was used to. Yet the way I appeared in public only a week or so after the fact, happy and hopeful, seemed only to worry those close to me instead. This seemingly invisible mode of grief was so foreign to my family that I still hear concern about it half a year later. And from an outside perspective, sure. I can see why this quick return to the status quo might seem troubling. But take the time to consider it from an inside perspective instead.

Whether people realized it or not, I have always been decidedly private about my grief. I’ve written it in poetry that I kept locked away, or in stories through characters that were little more than anonymous extensions of myself. It is one of the things that sparked my love for reading, a private, cathartic emotional experience that I immediately felt at home with. This proved true for my connection with the late night/early morning time as well. I would sit outside in a fluffy winter jacket at 3 or 4am reveling in the chilly air, watching the stars, humming or singing or sometimes just thinking, but most importantly, alone with my feelings at last.

So, when this year hit in all of its chaotic glory, it was almost instinctual to pull away into my shell, to retreat into my safe space like I was used to doing for years. And it worked wonders for my ability to cope. My life didn’t seem to end even when it was crumbling down; I could still support the people in my life who needed an ear to listen or a hand to hold. Yet once that was over, once I was truly alone, I was free to feel and process and come to terms with this life that had changed so drastically, but that I still knew was not over by any means. Though working through these emotions was taxing and difficult to accept, the positivity of my friends and the normalcy of the day were like a salve for that raw emotional wound. And as the wound began to slowly heal, as I realized that I had healed it of my own accord, I felt even better about the life still ahead of me. No overwhelming, angst-ridden narrative would be able to control me again. My grief was my own, and I would honour it as I pleased.

Now, half a year later, my life is proving brighter than ever before. My long-time best friend and I began writing a story together, one I don’t anticipate we’ll complete anytime soon, but one that’s already given me many fond memories and served to bring us closer than ever before. So much closer, in fact, that she’s no longer my best friend, but my girlfriend. Of course there was more to that decision than our story, but spending all that time together on a shared passion certainly didn’t hurt. My career path is looking much clearer, the holiday season is approaching, and life, in general, seems to be looking up. I’ve finally made it out of what seemed like an insurmountable situation.

Yet it would have been so much easier if I was trusted with my ability to cope from the beginning, if I hadn’t been questioned time and time again, if I hadn’t been told that I wouldn’t be able to properly cope if I didn’t share my feelings in a traditional sense. It needs to be truly understood that people can grieve in any way, including silently and privately and controlled. That not having a breakdown at devastating news doesn’t mean someone’s not grieving enough, or that they don’t care enough. That being happy while grieving is not only perfectly acceptable, but can help someone cope just as well as crying. And that happiness in the context of grief doesn’t always mean denial, in the same way that sadness and tears don’t always mean depression. The process of grief is the journey of the individual through complicated feelings, haunting memories, and a close encounter with their personal understanding of mortality. For such an intimate journey, every person should feel free to choose their own path.

Amid a world divided, there is but one sentiment that unites humanity, one belief that connects people from around the world, one thought that even Republicans and Democrats agree upon. Yes, even Christians and atheists agree on this. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the sentiment that binds us all together: 2020 is a shitshow of dramatic proportions. This blog post will reflect that sentiment, reflect that rambling cacophonous maelstrom that I refer to as my mind, my thoughts. So here goes.

First things first.

What’s the aesthetic of the world of 2020? I’m not sure. But here are a couple images that come to mind about the world of 2020.

-The world is a worm-infested apple falling from the tree on top of a mountain, and the worms inside don’t know they’re about to hit the ground full force. They just keep blindly gorging themselves in a gluttonous ecstasy.

-The world is a one-legged wolf caught in another trap because he refused to learn his lesson. He’s chewing off his last leg, wondering if he’ll get through it, if he’ll live, or if he should just give up and go out with a whimper.

-The world is a narcissist practicing his smile in front of the mirror without flinching at the sobs of Lady Justice being gang-raped behind him. Maybe he doesn’t see it from the corner of his eye. But the way things are going, he’s probably just waiting for his turn to go again.

There’s nothing new under the sun. What else can I say that hasn’t already been said? Who’s reading this expecting me to say soul enlightening selfless things? If you are, I’m gonna do this little thing called subverting expectations. I’m sick of talking about the world, I want to talk about my world (don’t worry guys, it’ll still be relevant to 2020). That’s something you haven’t read about. There. I’ll say it. I’m selfish. And just like that, this blog post is now semi-confessional.

Fair warning, the word ‘shit’ in all it’s forms will be overused in the following paragraph.

I worked a shit (see?) job over the summer. Not that it’s actual shit, many people are content (or something?) working there, but to me it’s shit. Why? Because I’ve realized anything short of my dream job is going to be a shit job. So, I better succeed at what I want to do or I’m going to be cursed to live in misery. Will I succeed? That depends on my motivation, which nowadays isn’t very strong (not that it ever was, but I can’t seem to get out of bed these days). Here’s the thing. I couldn’t wait to be done with that shit job, couldn’t wait for the summer to be over so I could see my new friends and go back to school. But honestly? This semester is pretty shitty. I can’t wait for it to be over. So what have I got to look forward to? Another shitty semester, and another shitty summer after that with another shitty job? There’s no winning it seems. As I’m writing this, I wonder why I’m so extreme, why don’t I look at the positives? There’s plenty of them everywhere.

One good thing came out of the summer, and that was finishing my screenplay, it took four months. After being stuck in a rut with my novel that I’ve been chipping away at for two years, I decided to turn it into a screenplay. I felt I couldn’t write enough for it to be a novel, but now that I’m done the screenplay, it’s at LEAST fifty-something pages too long (it’s 193 pages). There’s no winning it seems.

I decided to convert the novel into a screenplay because of a few reasons. I grew up on films, it was always a big thing in our family. Movie nights on the weekends indoctrinated a love for cinema in me. I’ve noticed that ever since my first short stories in grade school, I always visualized the story as a film, then tried writing it cinematically. As a kid, I even played with my Lego as if it were a film. I would even replay the same action and watch it through slow motion, from different ‘camera angles’ (John Woo cuts his action films like that, but I hadn’t even seen any of those at that point. Odd, isn’t it).

Within the first year of writing my novel, I thought the scenes would look great in a movie. The main characters draw their guns, camera pans to the left, the victims put their hands in the air and ask “…what the fu-” Smash cut with the title card and opening credits. Probably the biggest thing that made me want to restart the novel as a screenplay was when I religiously researched filmmakers (it’s an ongoing process of self teaching). One of my favorites, the Almighty Tarantino, said he basically writes his scripts as novels first, then adapts them into a screenplay. So I figured I’d try it. BEFORE I tried that (getting a little nonlinear here) I wrote one of my favorite short stories which by some happy accident read like a Scorsese mafia epic, complete with his (cynical) voice-over style narration/summary and temperamental profanity laden individuals belonging to that certain Italian-American subculture. Yes, I’m a little obsessed with the Mafia.

Nowadays I’ve been looking for a human side to certain stories. Human is the word I use because I can’t think of any other way of describing it. Only two films have given me that feeling. Boogie Nights, and American Beauty. I’m not sure why, I’m trying to decipher that. No other film has made me feel that feeling, except those two. Is it the bittersweet optimism of the ending? Is it the fact that the characters want to escape their boring lives and attain their counter-cultural desire? Is it the yearning to be free?

That feeling is what I’ve been trying to meditate on, I want to write at least one story that nails that feeling. The brainstorms I have will be listed here:

-The end of an era.

-The feeling of reading texts for reminiscing, just to feel those feelings again (not necessarily romantic).

-Sitting in a café during a thunderstorm with quiet friends as the gut punch is delivered and you realize it’s the end of college, you’re about to part ways with everyone and you just are realizing it.

-The book you love is coming to an end and you don’t want it to, so you’re afraid to flip the page.

If anyone has any ideas for that, or any films or books that nail that feeling, please tell me.

Another idea I’ve been meditating on is a story similar to Taxi Driver (what a masterpiece, a must-watch). When this first quarantine/isolation thing happened I right away started thinking of somebody’s twisted psyche not being able to handle it and lashing out. Something dark, disturbing, isolated, lonely, hurting, and hating, just like Taxi Driver. But I don’t really want to write it about COVID. Even Paul Schrader, who wrote Taxi Driver, said if you have a personal problem you want to deal with, make a metaphor for it. Taxi Driver was a metaphor for his loneliness and depression. He said distance yourself from your personal story. As soon as I heard that I realized why I struggle so much writing nonfiction stories from my life. My life isn’t cinematic or interesting, (makes me wonder why I’m writing a blog post about it), I’d rather make a metaphor. That can be as cinematic as I want.

And here’s a sad and pitiful side of me, something 2020 has brought out of me. I find myself constantly daydreaming about winning the lottery. Why? Because the biggest thing I think I’d win with the lottery is freedom. Freedom from a boring average life, freedom from worries, risks, and freedom from obstacles. All the things I don’t want to deal with. I’d have freedom to go where I want, when I want. My friend Emily will end up who knows where for grad school (and who knows where after that), it’d be nice to hop on a plane whenever I want and visit her. Same with Noah. Call him up from across the country to see if he wants to see a bunch of films on the weekend, hop on a plane, and have a grand old time. Why is it sad and pitiful? Because it says I’d rather have something given to me instead of me going out there and grabbing it. Well, indulge me a little further, maybe you’ll find it entertaining at least.

If I’d win seventy million dollars, I’d do what everyone says they’d do and put a lot of it in the bank/investments and let it keep making money. I’d take a portion of it to help my friends (pay their tuition so they have less to worry about) and help my family. I’d still stay in school and slave through courses I don’t even want to take, the ones I have zero interest in but am forced to take in order to acquire a piece of paper by the end. Why? I guess to be educated and hang around with Noah some more. Then, during the summer, instead of working a shit job I hate, I’d spend on what I’m passionate about. A couple hundred thousand on making five or six quality short films with an actual cinematographer, with actual actors, in order to learn how to properly make films. Experience is key to learning filmmaking. Then, I’d take about two or three million dollars and produce my own debut film with my own amazing script I haven’t even written yet. Get it distributed by A24, get recognized, climb the ladder. Wouldn’t that be nice? Sure would.

Seeing as I haven’t even bought a single ticket (and probably won’t), I guess I’ll stick to filming my short films with Noah’s i-phone.

I also keep asking myself why I’m in university. All that talk of film, you’d think I’m more interested in filmmaking than writing novels.

Bingo.

You’re correct if you think that. I’m losing more and more interest in writing novels/short stories and gaining more interest in screenplay writing and filmmaking, (specifically directing, my dream job). Why don’t I take the time and money I’ve spent on courses I don’t even want to take AT ALL and save up the funds to buy a decent camera?

(I sit there staring at rocks from my lab kit in a haze of utter hatred, wondering what I’m doing with my life. I hate science, I didn’t come to university to be forced to take science, I came here to explore creativity. I’m told its to be well rounded. I don’t want to be “well rounded;” I want to be a sharp blade piercing through the field I’m interested in, everything else be damned. This whole year, I’m only in one creative writing course. Can you believe that? Sure, it’s my fault, I could’ve taken TWO creative writing courses this year instead of ONE. Why didn’t I? Because the screenwriting course isn’t offered this year, and right now that’s number one priority for me. If I can’t take it next year, I may just spontaneously combust, who knows. Next two on the priority list are the video production courses. So, I chose to get the science requirements out of the way this year in order to have breathing room later. My entire course selection boiled down to one question: do I want to suffocate now, or later? I chose to get the suffocation over with quick (ironic because suffocation is anything but quick). I won’t even touch upon the course schedule this year, in fear of dying from an aneurysm while typing this. Yes, it’s the way things are and I should accept it instead of complaining. Unfortunately for me that’s easier said than done. END OF RANT.)

Back to the whole saving up for a camera dream. Then I could at least make a modern day El Mariachi like Robert Rodriguez did. He made that for seven thousand dollars in 1992, which comes to about nineteen thousand dollars in Canadian nowadays. Look where he is now. I’ve already learned so much from lectures on YouTube or through Masterclass, that I feel like I could learn all I need for a lot less money. The only thing keeping me in the creative writing program at this point is it’s a more employable degree than a film degree (not that I really want to go to film school), and that it’ll still help me form meaningful stories.

To end on a high note, I’ve got several screenplay ideas I plan to write. I’ve even got the names of the titles.

–The Devil’s Mvsic, a horror script, a metaphor for the struggles of the Christian faith through the exploration of a Black Metal band and their Satanism (perfect inversion of Christianity).

–The Old Lie (from Wilfred Owen’s Dulce et Decorum Est) would be a black and white WW1 film exploring the mundane everyday suffering of soldiers in the trenches.

-Guns. Cars. Cocaine. Is an expansion of the short film I made. It would be a lower budget crime comedy about idiot criminals (since it’s simpler, realistic, it’s the next script I’m writing, and if I ever buy that lottery ticket and win that seventy million dollar prize, it’s the one I’ll produce first.)

–The Three Lutherans, a comedic retelling of Martin Luther’s friends, a cross between Monty Python’s The Holy Grail‘s non sequitur  style humor and Bud Spencer/Terence Hill films such as Watch Out We’re Mad.

To conclude, I’d like to tell you there is a light at the end of this dark tunnel we’re traversing. That light is an oncoming freight train barrelling towards us by the name of 2021, aka the sequel to 2020.

Oops, did I say I’d end on a high note?

I lied.

 

 

 

 

Time is a forever changing horizon we all face. Here we are folding into the futures inevitable arrival. The world we live in is chaotic and we move like leaves in the fall, just blowing in the wind. Where we fall is the beauty of it. With Covid I’ve experienced having a lot of time, life has changed for a lot of us, how we’ve experienced this time is diverse to each individual. For me, imagination is something I always enjoy delving into with my time. So enjoy this story of time, place and change.

original image by Tara Walton

In the land of the yellow levitating desert, time turns backwards. There is a sun that never leaves the eyes of the only creature that roams. There is an edge to the land, a pleasant place to sit and watch the moons rise and fall across the endless void that surrounds planet 569243333. Which is where you would most likely find Divoc, a brown spotted and striped moth, jolly and content with himself, he is the only creature on planet 569243333. His life is riddled in curiosity, ever since coming into life from the dead. Divoc has often wondered what everything really means.

original image by Tara Walton

I have felt the sand warm and tiny on my twiggy legs as I bask in the suns eternal glow. I wonder how long it has taken for these small pieces of rock to form, and does it feel, that slow and patient unraveling of time. I often sit at the edge of my planet and watch time as it goes back to where it came from. Every passing of a handful of time, pink smoke rises from the ground of planet 569243333 and moves up like a slithering dance into the above. From what I can feel the pink smoke is the planets energy releasing like the first and last breath of life gasping and heaving out into the empty everything. I have watched this planets cycle of pink smoke more times than I can remember and I feel I don’t have many more to watch, soon I will turn to dust. When I first rose from my bones into flesh I felt like I had experienced so much but as time returns I feel more and more naive. What is there to know but to know I can’t really know what it is that I think I know.

As I sit on the edge of 569243333 with my legs dangling over into the void, the sensation invokes an idea I’ve longed for before. To go out into the void and find meaning. As I look at the endlessness of it all, I’m certain it’s there waiting for me.

The unknown is a friend that waits for me. Two feet leap off, spiraling into the notion. Eyes open with heart, seeking that which I know is there.

original image by Tara Walton

Off in the distance the first planet that caught my eye, is a swirling planet with  pink and purple skies. Through a misty atmosphere I fly and land in wavy grass. I notice movement on the ground. Through the grass I see a puffball, sitting on a stool. Its body is entirely circular and fluffy, its eyes wide and piercing. I’m frozen and my body doesn’t move, I want to turn and run in the opposite direction but I am caught gazing into the eyes of this creature. The feeling of fear is apparent in my body, my heart racing and my breath panting. The puff ball rises to the height of my face, it began speaking to me but its mouth was closed. As clear as day, the puff ball said to me “do not stand there quivering with fear, for i’m not what you know me as and you have nothing to fear but the fear you create. I am Honesty but you can call me Guufguuf and I come to you with a message. There is a journey that calls to your spirit, you have felt it and i’m here to tell you it starts now. Follow me if you wish but i must tell you, you will lose the self you are now and it will shed from you like the fur sheds from my body. This way.” My feet began moving, hesitantly in step but without a thought, I followed the puff ball. It led me away from the tree into the field, the grass was thick and taller than three of me stacked on top of the other. The grass seemed to sense me, without even moving it with my hands it parted a path for me, I felt at ease even though my surroundings were towering above me.

original image by Tara Walton 

I almost lost sight of the puffball a couple times, it moved like it was a part of the grass, slightly hovering above the ground. It was swift and an incredibly graceful creature. We came to a small clearing somewhere in the depths of this field. In the middle of the clearing stood what looked like a large circular mirror, but it was in motion and the closer I got I realized it was resembling more of a large circular ocean standing in front of me. Astonished, I went to walk around it but as soon as I walked to the opposite side it completely vanished. How boggling and peculiar this was. It was only on one side. The puffball then spoke to me “there is one side to this truth and it is truth. Your journey began the first step you took in following me, Honesty and now you must lead yourself in your first step alone on your continuing journey by walking through truth that stands in front of you.” I wanted this, right? That’s why I’m here but oh my I am terrified. I stood in front of truth. I looked to Honesty, we nodded to each other in respect of our meeting and respect for our parting. I looked forward and without another glance given or another thought, I stepped into truth.

I’m floating through the cosmos, till I reach an entirely blue planet. I feel every living thing on the planet. There was no separateness. Land, water, breath, being, everything flowing in a beautiful chaos that’s patterned to purpose. This is the truth.

original image by Tara Walton

I came across an ocean of water, with a black shadowy creature peeking its head above the water. The water began to shimmer as if light from the sun was being caught on the surface of its reflection, shining back at me so magically. I was in a trance of this aesthetically pleasing presentation. In my trance I began to fall into deep questioning, all felt uncertain. What is life? What have I done here? One breath of life among the enormity of all existing. Billions of breaths every second, last breaths, first breaths. Passing is our time. Time is never ours, it slips from our grasp before it’s even held in our hands. So what does life consist of then? What do I consist of? What does it mean to be alive? To be alive as me? Then it is as though the creature had been listening to my thoughts, it shoots right through me like lightening and emits my truth. My eyes are filled with blinding light and I burst out laughing. It echoes through my ears and sounds like thunder through a lively green valley. My heart is so joyous, I think I’m crying. Every laugh and tear is with every life energy to have ever existed. Every feeling, expression and emotion emptied into my little being. It is an epiphany of my truth and there are no words for this truth, there isn’t a language that speaks it. All I know is everything is so beautiful and I would live all my lives the same way I have. I wouldn’t change a thing about anything. Life is encrypted in an eternal meaning of beautiful existence. My current experience comes to a halt. 

original image by Tara Walton

I’m back on planet 569243333 in what feels like a blink. Back in my favourite place, watching the moons rise and fall. I feel content, I have found meaning out there in that void.

Little does Divoc know that in a parallel universe he exists, but in that existence, everything is not backwards. He is not a moth but a virus that has ravaged a whole planet. Divoc lives unaware of the time he has given and the time he has taken. 

 

 

 

In the beginning, they said the pandemic would be the perfect opportunity to return to nature. For a while, I think they were right. People were outside embracing nature again. Flowers were blooming, school was over, the sun was shining. It was glorious. The pandemic wasn’t as scary because people had something other than other people to rely on. When you weren’t working, you were outside. Maybe you were taking your dogs for a walk during the evening or you were playing basketball in your driveway. You allowed the beauty of every day to put a smile on your face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You and your sisters worked on projects around the house. It was a great way to focus on something other than the fear building inside everyone. Keeping busy is what you do best. Your oldest sister is a frontline worker who could only come home every once in a while, so you cherished the moments you had with her. The three of you made the best out of the difficult situation. There was never a dull moment – you laughed and joked around, but you also made mistakes and helped each other.

Getting in the car and driving for hours became a weekly occurrence with the people you were quarantined with. You could drive down long, windy country roads and let the beauty of nature remind you that everything was going to be okay.

You were able to watch the sunset in all of its glory and smile at all the wonder around you. Nothing could beat those late-night drives or the people you shared them with. You were free from the confines of a hectic end-of-the-term where your school and professors were basically clueless as to how to teach you the rest of the course material. There was a lot going on and it was a very stressful time. So, when you watched the sunset and had a nice time with your loved ones, you could let your mind wander and your worries dissipate. You didn’t have to think about the daily increase in numbers or the people ignoring the quarantine to make dangerous and irresponsible life choices. You didn’t even have to think about your mom being high-risk because she was safe right beside you belting out the lyrics to whatever song was on the radio. You were able to find peace in the quarantine.

Then autumn arrived and it was even better. You didn’t even know you needed to be reminded of the glory of fall and the ever-changing world. The colours astounded you and you knew that nothing could compare to nature. You and your mom took your dogs for walks and embraced the magnificence that was fall. You and your sisters made piles of leaves to jump in, something you hadn’t done since you were little. It was just as glorious as summer. Sure, schoolwork had started to pile up, but you didn’t let it get to you. You embraced it, acknowledged that it would lead you to something you loved, and continued on with enjoying the changing seasons. Nothing could tear you down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, winter is here, even though it’s not December 21st. If you’re not getting your vehicle stuck in your driveway or sliding down an icy sidewalk, you’re stuck inside away from people and life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The harsh realities of the pandemic have made themselves known. For a while, the numbers were under control and people were making smart choices. Now, the numbers are higher than they ever have been and it’s like people have just decided the pandemic is over. You know better. You know that people are dying and it’s not the time to live carelessly. But. You’re lonely. You don’t see your family anymore. You don’t see anyone anymore. Sure, video chatting is great. But it’s just not the same. You miss the rush of people around you and laughing loudly without a care in the world. You miss not being scared when going to Walmart for your weekly grocery run.

You just miss life.

The world around you is still.

Nothing makes sense.

People make bad choices.

You sit at your desk or lay in your bed

and watch the world move slowly around you.

 

You worry

constantly.

Is she okay?

Is he okay?

Are they okay?

Will it ever end?

 

The end of the year is looming.

But will anything be any different?

No, it will all be the same.

Maybe it will be worse.

You don’t know.

 

The uncertainty scares you the most.

The people scare you too.

The powerful ones that make the big

decisions.

But also

the regular ones who make

decisions that seem small

but

effect everyone.

 

Do people even

think?

This isn’t a joke.

Do they understand?

You don’t know

and

that scares you.

 

Winter is usually your favourite time of year. Especially Christmas. You don’t have to work. You don’t have to go to school. You can breathe. You and your sisters go snowmobiling and have snowball fights. You spend hours of every day outside having fun. But what will it be like this year? Will you even be able to go home? You hope so. Your flights are booked, and your hopes are high. But is it safe? Is it worth risking your mom’s life? When you call her, all she talks about is how excited she is to see you again. Everyone says everything will be okay. But will it really? You don’t know.

Christmas. They say it’s magical. That it changes lives. But what about during a pandemic? I don’t doubt it will change lives, but will those changes be for the better? Lockdowns have started all over the world again. They help. So, why isn’t it happening everywhere? Humans are losing. But is it even a battle? Is this the end? Fear builds. Stupidity astounds. Decisions need to be made. For the greater good. Isn’t that what they say? The people who have the power to make decisions can change everything, just like Christmas.

 

Christmas.
Xmas –
remove Christ
and enjoy the rest.
Right                   ?

Trees in every house.
Tall
Proud
Lonely.
Lights cradle them,
tinsel tickles them.
Loneliness fades
a
w
a
y
with the twinkling lights
of hope.

Families gather
and spread cheer.
Watch movies
and play in the snow.

Garland lines every

Lights shine
from rooves
and trees
and e y e s.

No doubt
in anyone’s
mind
of the beauty
of Christmas.

The walls of your bedroom close in. They tell you to go home. Or maybe you tell yourself that. School is killing you. Thirteen more school days, but the end seems so far. You have so many assignments due every week. You stare at your computer for hours and hours and hours. Your eyes burn. Your back aches. You learn concepts that make no sense but are supposed to. You have professors that don’t help you and one that’s amazing. You don’t understand anything. But still, you keep going. You plug out assignments one after the other. Giving them everything you have until your brain gives up for the day. Then you get up and do it all over again. It would be better if you could go outside. If you could embrace the gloomy days and not let them make your day worse. But you can’t because you don’t have time. You go outside to take the garbage out. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. You go back inside and stare at your computer for many more hours. Your phone dings with a notification and you look at it. Oh, just another update on Canada’s record-breaking numbers for the day. What a shock. You put your phone down and go back to your computer.

You no longer have any concept of time. The sunsets at four o’clock. The days mean nothing except for due dates. Those mean everything. You hear your roommate talking in the kitchen. You put your earbuds in and cringe at the pain. You keep them in anyway and blast your music. You need to focus. Pandemic or not, you need your degree. You’ve made it this far.

Your phone dings again. You look at it and see that your sister sent a picture to your family group chat. It’s a collage she made of your dogs.

It’s exactly what you didn’t know you needed. You smile and save the picture to your phone. The collage brings back memories of previous winters. You and your dogs playing in the snow. You throwing snowballs at them that they’d catch and eat. Or driving your snowmobile with your dogs chasing close behind. Or the first snowfall of every year, at least the one you were home for, where you would get all bundled up and take your dogs outside. The four of you would run around and try to catch snowflakes on your tongues. Your dogs would knock you down and steal your hat or mitts. You would chase them around the yard, laughing without restraint.

Everything becomes clear. So much of your life revolves around nature, not just since the pandemic. The pandemic just reminded you of the connection. Winter is here, Christmas is coming, and you’re going home. The pandemic hasn’t won yet.