The road less cycled

Stephane Dion may yet become Prime Minister of Canada, and Stephen Harper is twisting and turning to hold on to power.

The Liberal Party has boldly proclaimed its intention to attempt to bring down the Conservative government by forming a formal alliance with the New Democrats and counting on the Bloc not to spoil the party. By bringing forward a non-confidence motion at the first opportunity, the Liberal party can assume the leadership of a progressive coalition that will work together to further a joint Liberal-NDP agenda, and by so doing, disrupt the gradual march toward American style government that characterized the Conservatives first term in office.

The magnitude of such a development could not be overstated. The implications of such a move for Canada are immense, and could mark a turning point for the country. It would give Dion a chance to prove himself to Canadians as he was unable to do during the election campaign; to display some of his much vaunted “determination” and utilize his well developed diplomacy and negotiation skills to keep Parliament on track. He will have to do this in the face of inevitable Conservative obstructionism and filibustering. One has only to think back to the 200 page manual on how to disrupt Parliamentary committees distributed by the Prime Minister’s Office to realize that when it comes to procedural and disruptive tactics, the Conservatives are no slouches.

To date, Harper has reacted to the challenge by calling it undemocratic. This is a pure and utter fallacy. In fact, fallacy is a very weak word for the position Harper is taking. It is downright duplicitous. In fact, a progressive left-wing coalition would be the most democratic government we could have, given the current make-up of Parliament. A strong majority of Canadians voted against the Conservatives, and a Liberal led coalition would finally give those Canadians representation in our federal government. A party that received less than 40% of the vote does not deserve to govern unilaterally, and should be punished for attempting to do so. That past Liberal governments governed with a minority of votes is also an inexcusable shortcoming of our political system.

Harper has crowed about his “strong leadership.” Well, governing is about more than strong leadership. True enough, his party has taken decisive action at his lead, but this action has too often completely ignored the wishes of the Opposition parties who represent the true majority of votes. This is not leadership. It’s dictatorship, no different than the dictatorship of past Liberal Prime Ministers. It’s time that Canada’s political parties demonstrated some more skills than partisanship and divisive politics. It’s time they demonstrated that they understand the meaning of the words “cooperation” and “compromise.”

Make no mistake: the formation of a Progressive coalition government is the best thing that can happen for Canada at this point in time. It will give the NDP, long marginalized in the realm of actual policy, a say in legislation. It will give Dion the chance to lead the country that he so richly deserves for his principled, optimistic vision for Canada. It will rein in the power of a Conservative Party that has moved Canada ever closer to economic and environmental integration with the United States and Mexico, supported continued expansion of Canada’s tar sands, squandered the significant surplus that it inherited, cut the wrong taxes, did virtually nothing to promote alternative energy, and taxed income trusts after specifically promising not to. We may, in fact, see some action on climate change under a Progressive coalition; we may see the creation of a new economy that actually acknowledges the rapid growth of the green jobs sector; we may see Canada begin to regain its glowing international reputation; we may see Canada actually demonstrate the fiscal responsibility the Conservatives talk so much about, but do so little to implement.

Harper has delayed the showdown that is to come by postponing Monday’s scheduled Opposition Day  until Dec.8. The Conservatives will surely use this window of time to trot out all the tired arguments against Dion; to try to sell the lie that a Progressive Coalition would be undemocratic; the lie that the Opposition parties have not earned the right to govern. The upcoming week will be one in which Harper will attempt to sow division among those on the left, in hopes of provoking the Liberals or NDP to make a hasty move such as dumping Dion prior to the leadership convention. He will loudly protest that the Opposition has no moral right to assume the government.

Many had thought Stephane Dion was washed up as Liberal leader. It is unlikely that he can be ousted before the Liberal motion is tabled; by every apperance, he will be Prime Minister, if only for a few months. Should he perform well however, the Liberal party may well decide to keep him on. Such a move would not be without precedent; Trudeau himself was once re-instated as party leader, after which he went on to win the next election. Could the same happen for Dion? Time will tell.

History will be made in the coming week. Change cannot come from government alone, but a change in government will play a role. I have hope for Canada once again. Now if only the Oppposition parties can dredge up those arcane concepts known as cooperation and compromise and put them to use, Canada might just find itself with a much more representative government.

The Sunday before last I took part in a game of street-hockey, or “shinny”, as it’s affectionately termed. After a solid three hours of pounding the pavement, my feet were raw, I knew I had some big blisters coming, I was out of breath, exhausted, but I hadn’t felt better in weeks. In a learning style assessment activity that my Sustainable Living Leadership Program group did in August, I learned that one of my primary modes of learning is kinesthetic; that is, motion, physical activity, athletics, all that sort of jazz, are an intrinsic part of how I experience the world and relate to people.

Throughout elementary and high-school, organized sports were perhaps the key part of my identity. And I was a purist. I’d play as hard in practice as I would in a game situation; I’d put in the same effort outside on the pavement as in the gym at practice. In the skill-department, I was reasonably skilled; I was always in the starting five in basketball or starting eleven in “foetbal” (soccer). I didn’t, however, put the work in to stay competitive; I was mainly there to have fun and enjoy the sport; not to win at all costs and thereby let the sport run my life. Even today, I can play table-tennis, badminton, tennis, or pool for literally hours on end, trying to perfect my technique and often running myself ragged.

Even away from the gym, I lived and breathed sports. In Gr. 4, my mom knew I obsessed over the latest happenings in pro sports; she’d put out the sports section of the Vancouver Sun next to my oatmeal in the mornings, and I’d literally read and re-read that section a dozen times, poring over all the stats until I knew the top five scorers on every NHL team. I listened to every Grizzlies game, every Canucks game, every Lions game, hell, I even followed the Abbotsford Pilots. I was the consummate fan. It wasn’t even a social activity; I just enjoyed it so much that I pursued it, not really caring whether anybody else shared my interest or not. To psychoanalyze from an athletics perspective, that’s proven to be a trend.

Eventually I realized the folly of all this; the folly of putting so much attention into something that didn’t affect me tangibly and took up huge amounts of time and energy, not to mention the tragedy of the degree of identification in our culture with professional sports. I came to understand how professional sports are a tool to distract people from the real issues; something to fill up the evenings so people don’t think too deeply about things that really matter. The illogicality of ‘cheering on the home-team’ also hit me – how genuine are our loyalties if they’re simply based on territory? Are they not blind loyalties? Isn’t this what instigates wars?

So I decreased my level of interest in pro-sports, but try as I might, I’ve never been able to eliminate it. In moments of distraction, I still find myself absently perusing the Canucks stats; reading up on the latest game, or catching a game on Hockey Night in Canada (admittedly, half to listen to “Grapes” wallow in his self-righteousness). I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to completely wrest myself away from pro-sports. I’ve gone through periods of abstinence, but I’ve always come back when I need a mental distraction, in full consciousness of the folly of full-grown men being paid millions to chase a little black disc around an ice-covered surface, for example. Even more so, the folly of the thousands who will cough up large sums to watch.

I’ve seen so many hockey games that you’d think they’d be getting repetitive by now, but that’s not the case. I enjoy every one as much as the last, though my interest in basketball and baseball has declined precipitously.

What can I say? I guess the Canadian mentality has permeated into my being. We are a nation that prides ourselves on our hockey. So as silly as it may seem, I say, Go Canucks! The Sedins and Lui will bring you a cup. Go Canada! Win some Olympic Gold in 2010! I’ll probably root for them as long as I live, so I may as well stop pretending I don’t care and simply enjoy the odd game now and then.

There you are. My sports addiction confession.

I’ve been writing all day for impersonal reasons; the Cascade Newspaper, e-mails, and U-PASS advocacy. It’s time to write something for myself for a change, now. There is so much I could write on; economic concerns are front and center, of course, as is the U-PASS and my thoughts about the majority vs. minority issue, and appreciating the bigger picture. I think I just want to focus on the awesomeness that was my bike ride today.

I didn’t really need to be anywhere in particular, but needed to get out and get some exercise so I decided to cycle over to the gym. I could have simply gone to the MRC which is only 5 minutes by bike from my house, but instead I chose to go all the way across town to the UFV gym where I can workout for free. This way, by cycling, I’m all warmed up by the time I get there, so I can get right to the workout without a warm-up session. It’s getting quite chilly these days, and since my Apollo Club Tourist has an abundance of metal parts, the warmth gets sucked out of my hands real quick. I don’t really bother wearing gloves  just yet though; not quite cold enough for that.

The University is about the furthest destination I could have within Abbotsford, short of Sumas Mountain or the residential on the far east side. Yet on my bike I can get there in 25 minutes and not have to worry about parking at all; it saves me gas $ so I can go on long midnight drives and still break even financially and emissions wise. Please don’t judge me for that; it’s a sanity retention tactic the necessity of which I regret.

By the time I get to the University today, the gym has just closed. Damn. Should have checked the hours today. I don’t really mind however; the main thing was getting my cardio, and by now I’m breathing hard and breaking a sweat. I always feel that somehow my day’s been unsatisfying when I go the entire day without getting any significant physical activity. I’m not on the level of a Randonneur yet; Randonneurs go for long 100, 500, 1000 km. rides, sometimes lasting for several days, but I’m getting there, and a few modifications to my posture on the bike and I should be able to attempt that.

Meanwhile, on my ride through Abbotsford, I realize how much I really do love this city. The more time I spend elsewhere, the more I realize how many ways Abbotsford comes up short, but the city’s coming along. There are still so many interesting nooks and crannies that give it some character; have you seen the medieval architecture on Langdon Avenue? Or the specialty bakery dealing in wheat, sugar, and gluten free products across the street from it?

I’m really enthused by the growing coffee shop music culture. Nearly every weekend you can drop in at a coffeeshop and come across some live entertainment, usually just a local performer or group trying to spread their reputation a little bit. Sometimes, like today at Seven Blends, just a group of friends showing support for each other; sometimes a destination event drawing a sizeable crowd. Ethical Addictions is perhaps the pacesetter in terms of being a place for young people to hang-out and enjoy some live shows. It’s become the east-side place to be if that’s what you’re looking for. City Blends Mt. Lehmann is coming to fill that function on the west-side, hosting live shows almost every Friday. I see these shows as a great warm-up if you’re planning to spend the evening at one of the local pubs, of which the Duke of Dublin is certainly the star attraction in this city, though the Bull ‘n Raven has great location and atmosphere as well.

If the outdoors is your thing, well, Abbotsford continues to expand and develop, but if you know where to look, you can still find some great places to go for a quiet walk. There’s been some controversy over it, but the Discovery Trail will be a great recreation corridor for the city, going through some of Abbotsford’s best parks – Fishtrap Creek, Douglas Taylor, Downes Bowl, Horn Creek, Willband Creek, over Sumas Mountain, and then McKay Creek as well. On it you will be able to avoid the monotony and sterility of the farmland and dykes, and if you choose, go cross-town in one shot.

On the way back from UFV today, I stop in at Lifecycles to make some enquiries, and then, spying a rare sight -a fellow cyclist – I opt to follow him down King Road instead of going through town like I normally would. He doesn’t set an insane pace, but he’s obviously just a little better equipped and I do have to push to keep up. He’s one of those “true cyclists” – dressed in skin tight aerodynamic clothing. I’ve never been a fan – sure, it’ll give you some added efficiency, but I dislike the hassle of putting it on and taking it off every time I get on and off my bike. Moreso, I love the casual appearance of cycling in my street clothes; it combats the impression of cycling as an exclusive transportation method that only a few people are equipped for; I’ll ride in whatever I happen to be wearing and pack along some raingear, and slap on an ankle-ring to keep my pants out of my sprockets. In Europe you won’t catch people in cycling tights; cycling is just how people get around and you don’t need much special gear.

So I end up going north on Clearbrook where I hog the one lane in the overpass so some impatient driver doesn’t try to squeeze through the narrow space between me and the centre line. Some guy in a huge truck guns it as he roars past me when the one-lane becomes two; from his acceleration rate he seems angry, and I can’t help it; I give him the finger. Probably he wasn’t even overly pissed, that’s just what his car sounds like, but it still gets under my skin. I haven’t had any accidents yet, but I’m still fairly jumpy on the road. Not like some – my buddy Trevor’s had two recent accidents, and I once came across him on his bike while I was driving, and I heckled him a little, and before he saw it was me he’d growled at me to “back-off, buddy.” Justifiably, he’s on pins and needles when cycling in Abby; between us and the other cyclists, we’re educating Abby’s drivers one at a time. Perilous.

So instead of heading straight down Clearbrook, I detour down Langdon, stopping in at the aforementioned bakery and the library where I take home an armload of books, a number on raw food diets, a book on the future of real estate by Garth Turner, and some others, most of them for my sister. It’s amazing how much you can accomplish on a bike with some planning ahead; I always feel like I come out ahead because of cycling instead of driving, and I dream of the day when South Fraser Way is clogged with cyclists, the Discovery Trail is packed with people, the coffeeshops and basements sport a thriving underground music culture, and development is contained within the current urban boundary, supported by a robust transit network and increasingly densified residential development. I can see myself living here for a long time, working towards that vision. There are many forward-thinking, progressive people  here; more than you’d think. However, I can just as realistically see myself travelling for quite a while and perhaps settling down halfway round the world, should I find someplace or somebody I especially like.

By now it’s dark, and I turn on my lights. My Apollo that was bought used came with this really great retro generator; a headlight and tailight hooked up to a little wheel that runs on the tire’s kinetic motion. As long as you’re pedalling it’ll stay lit. I plan to spend the evening at a coffeeshop, but in the meantime I’ve had a great ride, more convinced than ever that in this city, probably half of all trips or more could be accomplished on a bike by anybody who’s reasonably fit. If we really used our bicycles, cars could very well become the exception rather than the norm, only used for the odd trip to conduct an errand that a bike simply couldn’t handle.

Imagine where our automobile industry would be then. And you know what? Cry me a river. Humans are smart; we’re adaptable; we’d find a way to make the economy work. I’ve no confidence in the consumption based, manufactured obselescence economy, but I’ve every confidence in the power of human ingenuity.

My head’s been awhirl lately with the seemingly limitless reverberations of the collapse of financial markets. Today we heard that Citigroup chopped over 50 000 jobs; one of the biggest downsizing operations in history. It’s sobering news; especially considering that I once almost worked for a Citigroup subsidiary, Primerica, where representatives used having Citigroup as a financial backer as ammunition for the stability of their products.

My own RRSP’s have crashed, insignificant as they might have been. Am I concerned over that? Not overly. When I took them out, I did so knowing that markets have always crashed and risen again; that boom and bust cycles are inevitable and that the long term market average is positive despite the crashes we’ve seen in the past. In financial services, they call this riding out the market via dollar cost averaging; contributing a set amount on a regular basis in solid investments irrespective of what the market happens to be doing. But I’m rather nonchalant about my RRSP’s for another reason as well.

Mutual funds are not an investment I would make again. Having learned what I’ve learned since, knowing what I know now, I do not believe that mutual funds are a responsible investment. They’re a mainstream financial vehicle that serve to maintain the status quo, providing huge sums to the biggest corporations in existence. Sure there are some socially responsible investments (SRI) out there, but they’re just mutual funds with a smiley face; by and large just business as usual with a dollop of reason.

For someone looking simply to get ahead in this society; to put aside a nest egg for retirement, or to provide for one’s family, mutual funds are a solid investment. Diversify yourself well; don’t be too jumpy with your money, and the value you’ve lost in the past months will be regained, barring worse developments than a mere recession. But try to do those things while also thinking about your children’s future, and their children’s future, and mainstream mutual funds, even SRI, won’t get the job done. Many SRI funds do not filter their investments on a sustainability criterion; rather, they have a “better than the rest” criterion. They’ll pick the best of a bad bunch, but in general, they won’t boycott any but the absolute worst, the least reputable, all the while filing shareholder resolutions which amount to dick-all if they’re not eventually backed up by a withdrawal of investor money.

Money still calls the shots in this world. What we need is solid financial management on a local level. The withholding of money from the financial mega-machine which runs all our lives, and the usage of said money in the construction of strong community partnerships and investment in local, new sustainability economy type businesses. My local Mt. Lehman Credit Union is a prime example, as is the Aldergrove Credit Union. They might not be as green as we’d like them to be, but given more involvement from those of us on the cutting edge of that front, they can and will be.

The last true depression saw many people out of work; widespread hunger; and desperate measures all around. Hell, people were happy to go to war, just to have a job to do. Nobody wants to believe we will see a repeat of that scenario, least of all myself. If we do however, are we prepared for reduced wages, widespread cost cutting, empty grocery stores? Most people seem oblivious on two fronts; on what’s actually happening, and what caused this in the first place. Whatever the case, now’s not the time to be spending any more than we can absolutely afford to, irrespective of our leaders urging us to keep on spending the well dry. We can see where that mantra’s gotten us – in the shithole and more of the same just isn’t going to wash. We can bail out our banks until the cows come home, but in the meantime more people will have gone broke; the gap between the rich and poor will be even greater; more people will be homeless, taxes will be higher, and any strong governmental action on climate change will have been thrown out the window, because obviously we can’t afford that. Oh no.

I don’t know about you, but I for one am not taking for granted that our benevolent leaders will solve this problem and we can all go toodling back to our dreamworld where everything is done for us and all we have to do is show up fifty hours a week (does anyone actually work fourty anymore) and we’ll be taken care of. Recently I published a list on Facebook from ex Halton, Ontario MP Garth Turner’s blog The Greater Fool, (also the title of his latest book) which outlined the steps to take in the case of a depression. It included such drastic measures as moving to the country, freeing onself from reliance on government services, getting off the grid, getting a dog, a bike, and chickens.

Will that be necessary? Don’t rightly know. Could be yes, could be no. Whatever the case, doesn’t sound like a bad lifestyle.

Shared, it could be a party. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go make some hummus.

A lot of thoughts simmering tonight, none of which I will elaborate on but several of which I will take time to outline.

A friend posted recently that activism was true education. I could not agree more. I’d like to that statement and add a dimension to it as well. For me, much as I resent the fact, activism is also the primary component of my social interaction. I very quickly get bored and frustrated and out of place when “hanging” with people to whom the word activism is raison d’etre to change the topic or turn up the volume. So I’ve been deliberating the role of activism in my life, and it’s a mixed bag. I want to be able to walk into a social setting and feel at home regardless of the context, but at the same time, if that context isn’t a purposeful one, I find it draining and de-motivating. In short, I suck at “just hanging.” I start pacing, and fidgeting, and staring at the ceiling, and generally being a less than sociable guest.

I have a hard time thinking of a better feeling, socially speaking (not physically or emotionally) than the aftermath of a successful event. The positive vibe created by the passionate airing of ideas and solutions to problems and the spirited social atmosphere which tends to prevail is something I find tremendously uplifting and is something I seek all the time. Perhaps it’s why I’m so frequently disappointed.

So I’ve established that my role is an activist one and that anything less leaves leaves me unsatisfied. Robert Jordan’s epic fantasy The Wheel of Time contains an intriguing concept; that of ta’veren. In the fantasy, the context of the events that transpire is The Pattern; the giant web of life in which each individual weaves his or her own thread. The Pattern is complex; not all can influence it significantly. It can absorb minor changes and weave around them, but only some individuals have the power to influence large-scale change; these individuals are ta’veren.

“sometimes the Wheel bends a life-thread, or several threads, in such a way that all the surrounding threads are forced to swirl around it, and those force other threads, and those still others, and on and on. The first bending to make the Web is ta’veren,” (http://www.generationterrorists.com/quotes/wot/eyeworld.html)

Ta’veren is a neat concept to run with. Are we all ta’veren or are just some of us, like for instance, Martin Luther King or Adolf Hitler, or JFK, ta’veren? Can we all change the world we live and do we have an obligation to try, or should we simply go with the flow and trust that things will work out? How have I changed the world? Will anything I’ve done trigger history-making change? Who can say?

That’s one concept, and for no very good reason, I’d just like to copy the opening to each book of the Wheel of Time, for its poetic and lyric beauty as well as its philosophical relevance, in light of a discussion with an old friend at Afterthoughts last night:

“The Wheel of Time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legends fade to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the third age by some, an Age yet to come, an age long passed, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings or endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.”

In a different vein, we all have sacred places. We may not have as strong a connection to our environment, and by environment I mean more than just the natural world, as those who inhabited this land before us, but I think that inevitably most of us develop strong associations with certain places; places we go to for comfort, or for relaxation, or places to visit for inspiration. Places that hold strong memories, or perhaps places that touch a chord deep within us though we may not know why. What are yours, if any come to mind?

All of the places that are sacred to me occur right here in the Fraser Valley; I haven’t yet travelled extensively enough with sufficient duration to really get to know any other places. Most of them are closeby, not more than a 45 minute bike ride, though some are a little further. Some are sacred to me for the memories associated with the people who accompanied me there; some sacred for other, spiritual, or associative reasons.

Most have to do with waterways; salmon have been and are my passion, along with all that sustains them and us. One is the point where McLennan Creek goes under Olund Road, where two tributaries of it meet and converge into one fast riffle before emptying into a deep slow moving pool that serves as excellent habitat for juvenile fish, trout, good hunting grounds for heron and kingfisher, and a well earned respite for the salmon that travel upstream to this point.

Another is up Clayburn Road a ways; just downstream of where two Poignant Creek tributaries merge and form a unique waterfall; one of the most beautiful sites in all of Abbotsford. There are several waterfalls here, most magnificent in mid-winter during high flows, and no salmon can travel upstream of it. It’s where I got stoned for the first time; and where young people like to hang-out at night and build fires. I like during all times; during the day to admire it’s beauty, or during the night around a fire to hear its roar and absorb its wildness. It’s so uniquely un-Abbotsfordian; it doesn’t seem to fit in to this city of farms and flat roads and motorists.

There’s a giant Sitka Spruce along Downes Creek; perhaps the biggest tree remaining near the urban core, and almost no one knows of it. It has to be protected.

All libraries are sacred. They all have their own unique character and ambience and hold the records of that which we cannot afford to forget.

The place where I grew up that is now a parking lot is sacred, especially the crumpy Douglas Fir tree with perfect crow’s nest whorled branches that still stands in what used to be our front yard is sacred. It would have broken my heart if they’d cut that down, too.

A last thought – does loving make one lovable? Or is there more one must do?

I admit that I know nothing and haven’t the faintest clue what is the right way to do things, and am very possibly wrong as often as I am right, and this ambiguity will be my undoing. There is a prevalent obsession with certainty and stability, and it’s generally irrational. After all, what it is certain and stable these days? And if something has that appearance, isn’t it more likely illusion than reality?

Unfortunately, I seem to labour under the impression that until I’ve caught myself up with every leading thinker in every field of thought that I care to have an interest in, I can’t legitimately claim to hold an informed opinion.

I generally have a very good idea of what I believe to be best, but hesitate to announce it until the fraction of intuition on which it is based is sufficiently diminished.

Late evening discussions are always, always, always worthwhile. Remember that.