Winter in the Woods

It’s the smell that is missing, most of all. Pollen and nectar, far-off cooking fires, the sweetness of rot; all are dampered by a blanket of snow. Gone is the purity of air filtered through deciduous leaves. This time of year, this sacred place smells like the rest of the world feels; dull, industrial, and grey.

It is hard to reconcile this inhospitable wasteland with the warmth my heart remembers. This cannot be the place of early morning mist, of the heartache of loons, of warm afternoons filled with the business of nothing, of leaving the fireside to gaze at the stars. No. This is a place of desolation, of hardship, of suffocating closeness, of lurking, watchful dangers.

The Great Outdoors. Great like Alexander – indomitable; enduring. Great and terrible, like Oz – wondrous to look upon; treacherous, though perhaps not for the reasons you think.

I come here to recharge. Refill. Reconnect. Rejuvenate. Remind. Remember. But buried deep in a crystalline mausoleum, trees like tombstones inscribed with summer, I cannot tap the source. Instead I exert. Exhaust. Excavate. Exhale. Expire.

 

Exist.

I exist. For here, look, the water still flows. The trees do not die, but sleep. Is that a fire I smell on the wind? From fire comes the thaw, the reclamation. Tree to wood to fire to ash to soil to tree.

I sit in the warmth of fire and familiar voices. Out the window I see the cold, but it is not forever. I will be back with the smell of summertime.

Careful Consumption, Constant Creation

It is rote and uninspired to observe that 2017 was a rollercoaster of a year, but nevertheless it was. It was filled with highs and lows, both personally and globally. I married the love of my life, and T***p was inaugurated as President of the United States; between those two extremes were many moments of joy and despair, elation and outrage. I find myself reflecting, as I begin a new year already promising to be as change-filled as the last, on what I can do to steer myself towards the positive. What did I do, what choices did I make last year that led to the highest highs and the lowest lows? How can I consciously and actively steer my life (and that tiny portion of the world over which I have some small degree of influence) towards positivity? In short, how can I make 2018 a better year?

When I look at the ways in which I interacted with the world around me in the last year, I keep coming back to consumption. I consumed more in 2017 than in any other year previously. I spent more time and followed more people on a multitude of social media. I watched more television, more YouTube content, more movies. I played more video games and fewer board games. Incidentally, I consumed fewer books, of which I am deeply ashamed. After reading 50 books in 2016, I read a disappointing 44 last year, many of which were by the same authors representing the same viewpoints. I contracted my literary horizons instead of expanding them. But across every other media, I consumed more content with less care. I read headlines and watched reaction videos instead of reading articles and finding source material. I sunk hours into the internet’s echo chamber of outrage, finding comfort in hearing my own social and political views being reflected back to me without proactively working to enact them. Even my physical consumption was less considered – I ate more fast food and cooked fewer fresh meals, opting for convenience over value. Perhaps worst of all, however, is that I can’t remember many moments of joy coming as a result of this endless, unfiltered consumption. I sought instant gratification over joy. I consumed for the sake of satiation, not satisfaction.

The moments of joy I experienced last year were not the result of consumption, but creation. Angela and I spent hours, days even, planning and putting together the wedding of our dreams. We knew from the beginning that we wanted to do as much as we could ourselves – that way we could spend meaningful time together, flex our creative muscles, and save money for more important things like all the days that come after the Big Day. Those moments of creation – curating a playlist for dancing, making jam for our table favours, choosing a menu, writing speeches – those were moments of pure joy. So, too, was having our families visit our new home – our first together – and taking the time to cook for them. Ditto to creating memories with our nearest and dearest on a weekend away with our wedding party. There is an indelible link, at least in my mind, between joy and creation.

Consumption is ultimately passive, and creation ultimately active. It is clear to me now that joy is created, not often found. You must work for it, seek it out. And the work and the seeking make you appreciate the joy all the more. I don’t mean to say that there is no joy to be found in consumption. I consumed many things in 2017 that contributed to my overall happiness. I saw Shakespeare performed live for the first time in years. I listened to hundreds of hours of podcasts from people whom I admire for their positivity and desire to bring light to others. I read beautiful books and poetry (those looking for recommendations, I encourage you to read Genuine Fraud by E. Lockhart, Last Night in Montreal by Emily St. John Mandel, and Poems That Make Grown Women Cry, edited by Anthony and Ben Holden). But the joy I found in consumption came because I brought the same care to what I was consuming as what I create.

So how can I do better in 2018, to take joy into my own hands? I am going to try to do three things:

1. First, I am going to be more careful in my consumption. I am planning a purge of my social feeds, unfollowing voices which I find incendiary or which contribute unnecessarily to our culture of outrage. I will replace novelty or celebrity follows with voices representing diversity and consideration in their viewpoints. Hopefully, I will inform myself more deeply, and be better equipped to enact change than shout impotently into the void.
2. Second, I will take better care of myself, physically and emotionally. I will recognize the impact that unchecked consumption has on my health. And I will acknowledge that a healthy me, both mentally and physically, is better able to create and advocate for joy.
3. And third, I will spend more time creating. I will cook more, write more, come up with my own opinions. I will create safe spaces for considered and considerate conversation. I will create for myself and others. I will experience creation, without and within.

That is what I am going to do. I will probably fall short, again and again, but I am going to try. This year, I hope to put more out into the world than I take from it. And I am going to enjoy it.

Resolutions

10. Go outside.

9. Read more poetry.

8. Write more poetry.

7. Blog. Weekly.

6. Recharge.

5. Be careful.

4. Get something published.

3. Listen to more diverse voices.

2. Be content.

1. Learn to say the sentence, “I don’t know enough about that to have formed an opinion.”