Motion

Gusty, blustery, and tempestuous - this past week has been a whirlwind for me, both in the weather and in my writing. I'm having trouble sitting down with one thing at a time, and I can feel myself being thrown in all directions even when I'm inside, safe from the wind. As I was trying to write my way out of the whirlwind and into a blog post, I recalled this piece, which I wrote some time ago, sitting in the Starbucks on Calgary Trail. Somehow, it seems appropriate for such a windy time. It's called "Motion."

“...a body with no net force acting on it will either remain at rest or continue to move with uniform speed in a straight line, according to its initial condition of motion. In fact, in classical Newtonian mechanics, there is no important distinction between rest and uniform motion...” ("uniform motion." Encyclopædia Britannica. 2010. Encyclopædia Britannica Online. 12 Dec. 2010)

The cars move past at such uniform speed that I wonder if it is them that are moving at all. I imagine myself sitting here, sliding sideways in this coffee shop while the rest of the world stands still, and I wonder how long it will take me to go around all the way, whether I’ll even make it all the way around.

A silver car speeds up, passing the others, and the coffee shop stops moving. I stop moving. I become an inanimate point, and the world revolves- not around me, but outside of me, beyond me.

The only other stillness I can find is a scattering of pigeons perched on the telephone wires, and I wonder if they are moving or not.

Portfolio [2]

As I write this I am watching the may trees in my backyard sway in the wind. My grandfather planted them before I was born: one for each of my three sisters. Past them is our clothes line, the aging telephone wires, the dusty back alley. I feel safe. I feel at home.
I consider the installment of photos that I posting today. In contrast to the rich green out my window, the pictures seem especially dark, especially grimy. I wonder for a moment: Should I post these? Is it right to portray the city in such a dark light when the spring has brought just beauty? Is it fair to do this to my home?
I stop myself. This is the curse of feeling secure. When we are in times of plenty we like to pretend that the darkness does not exist. And by denying its existence we can never fully confront it. In the case of Canada’s colonial legacies (which I address in this portfolio) this means never truly questioning how we live and how we perpetuate injustice today.
It’s not that we should never be happy. Instead, it’s that we should never give in to the temptation of willful ignorance. I can take joy in the beauty of the may flowers or the dusty back alley, but I cannot forget that the land in which those trees are planted or which those roads divide was not my family’s to take. I can peer out at my neighbourhood with affection, but I cannot forget that there are people in this city who do not have the luxury of a place to sleep.
So while my photos may seem out of place amongst the excitement and beauty of the Edmonton spring, I post them as a reminder: let us not forget the injustices that are always being committed, despite what the view from our window may be.

This is the second installment of a portfolio featuring my own photos and the words of Dennis Lee and The Weakerthans. You can check out the first installment here.