June Callwood (1924-2007)

June Rose Callwood, (June 2, 1924 – April 14, 2007) was a Canadian journalist, author and social activist. Her life was unique, as was her death. Check out an article that she wrote for The Walrus entitled "Forgiveness". Even more impressive was her interview on CBC's The Hour just shortly before her death.



Forgiveness
By June Callwood


A small boy in an industrial city in Ontario was beaten severely many times by his father, to the extent that the boy not infrequently required a doctor to stitch up the wounds. His father, a policeman, sincerely believed that if he beat his son with chains, belts, sticks, and his fists, the boy would not grow up to be gay. That boy, now in his thirties and indelibly a gay man, says he will never forgive his father.

“What he did is not forgivable,” the man says with composure. “How can it ever be all right to abuse a child? But I have let it go.”

And a woman, raised on the Prairies in a Finnish home, married a black man and had a son. She showed the infant proudly to her mother, whose reaction was a look of naked disgust. Her mother and that son, now a charming and successful adult, have since developed an affectionate relationship, but the daughter has not forgotten or forgiven the expression on her mother’s face. "The best I can do,” she says, “is that I have stopped hating her.”

The ability to forgive is a central tenet of every major religion in the world — Christian, Judaic, Hindu, Buddhist, and Islamic. Those faiths urge followers to forgive their enemies and, indeed, even to find a way to love those who wrong them. As the twenty-first century dawns, however, the world is making a spectacular mess of such pious admonitions. Instead of goodwill, this is the age of anger, the polar opposite of forgiveness. Merciless ethnic, tribal, and religious conflicts dominate every corner of the planet, and in North America individuals live with high levels of wrath that explode as domestic brutality, road rage, vile epithets, and acts of random slaughter.

Many people, like the gay man or the woman in a biracial marriage, find forgiveness an unreasonable dictate. Some assaults on the body or soul are unconscionable, they feel, and forgiveness is simply out of the question. It satisfies the requirements of their humanity that they gradually ease away from the primitive thoughts of revenge that once obsessed them...


Keep reading...

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In 2004, June Callwood was diagnosed with inoperable cancer and refused chemotherapy. "I'm in good shape," she said at the time, "I've lived a long time..."

Click here to watch the heartfelt CBC inverview

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Pretty Big Dig

This is an exquisite treat. Filmmaker, Anne Troake, has created a short piece that blends the lines of dance, choreography, music, and industrialism. You have to see it to believe it.

Take me there...

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ascent magazine

Check out the latest issue of ascent magazine (issue 35) for some interesting articles on gender & sexuality. The following links have excerpts from the articles of the print edition... if you like what you seen, then I definitely recommend getting yourself a copy!


being present with desire
In his struggles with the Buddha’s teachings on celibacy, Noah Levine explores how sexuality can be a teacher rather than a tormentor.

opening out
Lesbian-feminist author & Tibetan Buddhist Daphne Marlatt shares her thoughts about transcending gender in spiritual life. Interview by Roseanne Harvey.

something about Mary
Joanna Manning is a former Catholic nun whose opinions about Mary Magdalene, the Church & sexuality are both inspiring & controversial. Talya Rubin investigates.

flights of pleasure
Eileen Delehanty Pearkes takes brahmacarya out of the ashram & into the world

the union of heaven & earth
Can a hatha yoga practice teach us about intimacy & relationships? By Mark Whitwell

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Re: Drag queens not included... or why I'm sort of a bastard

A friend (and mentor), Terry Kyle, had an ambitious and personal response to the last article. Here's what she had to say:

Understanding parts of who I am doesn’t mean changing who I am….. in more than one sentence:-}

There is something ultimately self arrogant and self-pitying for me in this whole process that defies me. I am a bit sick of, or rather from it. The desire to change is one thing, but my image of what I thought I wanted to ultimately ‘turn into’, makes me ill to discover. Do I really think I have to measure up to something? Something that is out there outside of me? Do I really think that just being a mortal and doing my best is not enough? Yes, I want to be the best "I", and I mean capital "I", can be. Not some image of perfection that I have assumed through socialization. So, I feel like telling myself, “Get over it, get real”. This is you woman so get on with it.

Be real! Fuck up, get up, and get on with it.

This is easily said, but some yucky truth embedded in this analysis is the whiny voice, ‘poor me, come please, Prince(ss) What-Ever, please save me for I try so hard!”. Pouff, back to the fairytale I am led… "Well, who makes me poorer than me?", I ask of this image I take on. I am weighted by this self-centered image and welcome ideas of empathy, support, caring, and compassion, community, or so I hope…

There goes the discovery of my mental models. They do not charm me, but yet I am attached. Without knowing, I somehow transformed my outward defensiveness towards inward defensiveness about maintaining those ugly things! Oh no, they are part of who I am – Hello Terry, gulp, and that is okay. Acceptance, I ask? Well, trying to murder or disassociate myself from them has not worked well in the past.

I guess, well [actually I] know, that I must give my lovely funky gifted, imperfect soul a break and say hurray for where I am and where I have come and cheers to all the hope, faith, hard work and compassion I can muster in the world on the rest of my journey with us.

Gosh, it is hard to see the ground or the sky from such a self-centered position.

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Drag queens not included... or why I'm sort of a bastard

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For someone who’s supposed to be benevolent, I’m sort of a bastard.

The thing is, I am a judger. I am constantly forming opinions of people upon superficial qualities. I am assessing, deliberating, and drawing conclusions based on limited information. I wield these personal opinions and evaluations like a samurai fighting a gaggle of military aristocracy – sometimes stealth and subversive, sometimes explicit and confrontational. My judgments are often deadly, and sometimes the innocent fall victim to my condemning sword. But I was not always like this.

As a youngster I received many messages saying, “Never judge a book by its cover” and “Walk a mile in another person’s shoes”, and for years I aspired to embody nonjudgmental behaviour. I would scold my parents anything remotely resembling a generalization, and I would play devils advocate whenever I heard friends make unfair comments. For instance, “Maybe the guy driving the Hummer cut you off because he’s racing to the hospital to see his mother who only has minutes left to live after impaling herself during a freaky quilting accident. Did you ever consider that?”

In my quest to exemplify “nonjudgmentalism”, I would challenge and argue and advocate for the person who (for whichever reason) could not be there to defend for his or her self. How did I become such an eager ally to people I did not know? How did I not end up in Law School? Or more importantly, how the hell did I get so self-righteous?

As I transferred into my twenties, I increasingly became involved in my communities, where the primary prerequisite to any volunteer positions was the art of nonjudgmentalism. I would align myself with an organization (and its mission) to provide a service that improves the livelihoods of clients. The “Harm-Reduction” model implies (amoung other things) that I can’t reduce the transmission of HIV if I judge the choices of injection drug users. I can’t help single, teenage mothers if I am criticizing their behaviour. I learned that if I wanted to be of service to my world, I’d have to retire my judgments.

But I’ve come out of retirement.

Although I still enjoy a good argument (as I did when I was a kid) and I definitely believe in a Harm-Reduction model of prevention, these days I often catch myself making potentially dangerous judgments that teeter between careful consideration and uninformed opinion. It is a very thin line, I’ve discovered.

For example, we had a guest speaker recently in one of my classes. Within seconds I had dismissed the credibility of this person based primarily upon the way she presented herself stylistically. She wore a purple dress suit, cut high above her knees, with shoulder pads and gold jewelry (circa 1983). Her face was painted thick with make-up, while her hair was dyed and spiked, like she had stepped out of a wind tunnel. Plainly stated, I thought she was tacky and out of touch with any sort of reality of which I was familiar. I quickly inferred that we would have conflicting values; it was a judgment based upon superficial attributes.

In theory, I would be open to what she was saying. Instead I found myself blocked by my own perceptions and proceeded to tune out completely. The voice of a younger version of myself now creeps into my head and says, “Daniel, perhaps this woman could have taught you something, if only you would have paid attention”. At which point I respond and say, “But did you see her eye-shadow? How could I possibly trust someone like that (Drag queens not included)?” Perhaps I could have learned something from this woman, but now I’ll never know.

Although I still value a nonjudgmental approach to living my life, I also believe in the importance of critical thinking. Yet these concepts border on being conflicting values. Don’t I need to make some basic judgments if I am going to be critical? How would I critique art or society (or beer) if I did not make basic judgments? How does being evaluative or critical differ from being judgmental?

I guess the most important thing for me is to consider, is how much information I have for my judgments or evaluations. What is the basis of my judgments before I start getting all Zatoichi on friends and family? Do I have enough data to form a fair opinion on the strangers I meet everyday? Recognizing my levels of information, and making them explicit, before I unleash a judgment is a good place to start.

So heck, maybe I’m not such a bastard even if I do make judgments. Still, I think I’ll keep working on that “self-righteous” thing.

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What is "Canadian Cuisine"?

In honour of Thanksgiving, the CBC has posted some interesting video clips, compiled from over the years, all around the theme of Canadian Cuisine. Videos which explore foods such as poutine, doughnuts, fiddleheads, Nanaimo bars, Saskatoon Berry Pie, Canadian cheddar cheese, and maple syrup will leave you scratching your head in a national identity crisis. What is our culinary identity?

From the CBC Archives...

Is there such a thing as Canadian cuisine? The idea of ordering "Canadian" may have some scratching their heads. But Canada has given the world its share of gastronomic delights. From peameal bacon to poutine to pemmican, CBC Archives digs in to some distinctly homegrown fare.

See the videos...

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Clarifying a misconception...

Finally, the truth about the military's policy on homosexuals...


'Gays Too Precious To Risk In Combat,' Says General

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What are you looking for?

It's a crazy world out there... and I have proof. Due to advances in technology (and I'm not talking about the wheel here), I am able to monitor the activity of [the little spruce tree]. This includes access to data regarding how many people read the blog each day, the geographical location of readers and, my favourite, the "keyword" searches that have lead people to this blog.

Below is a list of what people (in the past two weeks) have typed into a search engine and then somehow found their way to this blog. Here's what you have been looking for:

• where do spruce trees come from
• place to watch people masterbate
• and one sweet day, we two shall meet max ehrman
• lisa baylis facebook
• how to sit alone or in a crowd observation
• in secret you admire goose's boots
• alberta story lyrics spruce
• buddhist monks masterbation
• freud and elephants

Thanks for finding [the little spruce tree]... errr, I think.

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[the little spruce tree] evolves

The newest feature of [the little spruce tree] is a last.fm playlist. It is a collection of tunes that provide a backdrop to your reading pleasures. It gives you the opportunity to discover a new song or artist. You are also able to load [the little spruce tree] playlist in a pop-up window and listen to all of the songs while you are working at your computer (ie: frolicking on Facebook)... just click the lower right hand of the last.fm icon on the side of this page!

Be sure to leave a comment if you find something that strikes a chord with you!

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And while you're here, make sure to vote for your favourite part of the blog... it's not just for show, it helps me understand what content is most popular.

I aim to please.

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The 100 Mile Diet

(Taken from 100milediet.org...)

When the average North American sits down to eat, each ingredient has typically travelled at least 1,500 miles—call it "the SUV diet." On the first day of spring, 2005, Alisa Smith and James MacKinnon (bios) chose to confront this unsettling statistic with a simple experiment. For one year, they would buy or gather their food and drink from within 100 miles of their apartment in Vancouver, British Columbia.

Since then, James and Alisa have gotten up-close-and-personal with issues ranging from the family-farm crisis to the environmental value of organic pears shipped across the globe. They've reconsidered vegetarianism and sunk their hands into community gardening. They've eaten a lot of potatoes.

Their 100-Mile Diet struck a deeper chord than anyone could have predicted. Within weeks, reprints of their blog at thetyee.ca had appeared on sites across the internet. Then came the media, from BBC Worldwide to Utne magazine. Dozens of individuals and grassroots groups have since launched their own 100-Mile Diet adventures. The need now is clear: a locus where 100-milers can get the information they need to try their own lifestyle experiments, and to exchange ideas and develop campaigns. That locus will be here at 100MileDiet.org—turning an idea into a movement.

Why eat Local? Click here for 13 lucky reasons...

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tree|plugs

Here is some stuff that has wowed my world...


[heard] Dragonette. This sprightly Canadian duo is making waves internationally with their infectious (of the good kind) smut-pop. With songs like “Take It Like A Man” and “Jesus Doesn’t Love Me Anymore”, you can’t help but feel a little bit of dirty down in your soul.

For even more lubricity or simply to increase your heart-rate, check out their sizzlin’ video for “I Get Around”.



[read] Eat, Love, Pray (Elizabeth Gilbert). Ms. Gilbert has essentially done what so many of us dream of doing – she packed her bags, traveled the world for a year, and then wrote a soulful (and bestselling) memoir of her trials, tribulations, and learning experiences. She had three main stops on her quest: pleasure in Italy, devotion in India, and balance in Indonesia. It is full of heart and humour, and might just be the catalyst you need to plan an adventure…







[seen] The Danish Poet (Torill Kove). This darling 15-minute tale took home the Oscar for Best Animated Short Film at this year’s Academy Awards last February. It was a joint venture between National Film Board of Canada and a Norwegian film company, but more aptly a joint venture between existentialism and adorable animation. It is a tale of happenstance, told by a young woman describing the meeting of her parents…

“But had it not been for the Danish poet and Sigrid Undset, a rainy summer in Norway, a slippery barn plank, a careless mailman, a hungry goat, a broken thumb, and a crowded train, my parents might never have met and who knows I might still be a little seed floating around in the sky waiting for someone to come and get me.”



[experienced] Alaska. I recently spent 4 weeks leading a group of teenagers on a community service tour up in “The Last Frontier” and I discovered that it’s true what they say - the summer sun doesn’t sleep in the north. The downside of the trip was that the northern lights were nowhere to be seen (due to all the daylight), the upside was the breathtakingly beautiful scenery: mountains, fjords, glaciers, rivers… and fish heads.

But Alaska was just a backdrop. The true experience was spending a month with 18 kick-ass teenagers who will undoubtedly continue to develop into honourable, wise, sensitive and humourous individuals that will have great impact on the world. It was a month of remembering the sensitivity, awkwardness, and potential of adolescence.

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Return to Innocence

Since we're all too special for words these days, maybe it's time we go back...




Should we return to a simpler, stone age lifestyle?

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I'm Special

Hello, my name is Daniel and I am special.

“And what makes you so frickin’ special?” you ask.

Well, I have countless reasons, really. For instance, I’ve these really hot sunglasses that make me look like a rockstar and, like, 200 friends on Facebook. Also, I’ve traveled to a bazillion countries and read, like, a jillion books. Plus, I can do this really freaky thing with my tongue and the guy that invented gobstoppers is my great uncle twice removed.

So obviously, I am precious.

Welcome to modern day North American culture where we are all so fucking special. We have (fake) designer hand bags and asymmetrical hairdos and cell-phones on which we loudly jabber away in public spaces. We are the starlets of reality television and the celebs of YouTube. We have coffee orders more complex than strands of DNA and personalized exercise regiments that involve “special” shakes, crunches, and lycra shorts. We have become embedded with the notion that we can do anything, have anything, and want everything. We have special needs created for us, and then have a special sense of entitlement to have them specially met.

We are in an era of Me-ism, where “specialness” is virtually synonymous with individuality or individualism. To achieve greatness in this culture, all we have to do is worship three important deities: me, myself, and I. Scholars have noted that persons in individualistic cultures are primarily motivated to serve their own interests. As such, personal success and achievement often trump societal or communal goals. But this little tidbit of information is more intrinsic than ground-breakingly academic.

Our post-modern thought processes might include many rationalizations of our actions: “Family? Are you kidding? I have a career to build” or “I can have that SUV because I deserve it (and because public transit is just so tedious)”. We are bombarded with choice and consumer “power”, and smart marketing strategies give the illusion that we are special. But are we?

In days of yore, it was a bit easier to be truly special. If you were literate, voila, you were special. If you were a woman with a beard, if you owned a parrot, or if you added a new element to the periodic table, then chances are you were pretty damn special. In fact, a couple of hundred years ago, one didn’t want to be too special or you might just be burnt as a witch. In current times, however, it’s pretty hot to be special.

So what makes people actually special these days?

It’s a tough question, but I have come up with some preliminary guesses. Courtesy, generosity and valor are special. People who hold doors open and give up seats on the bus are top notch in my books. In a world of glossy pop radio, Starbuck’s up sales, and botox expressions, I feel minor pulses of electricity surge through me when someone is sincerely pleasant with me. Initiative is pretty special. Those people who are actually engaged in doing what they love, whether it’s for themselves or their communities, have something uncommon going on. Finally, having a trade is special. A person who can make furniture or tailor clothes or fix an engine impresses me. It seems counter-intuitive how simple things have suddenly become special.

I think simplicity is the new special.

Of course, these are all my ideas of what is special, and the list is certainly not exhaustive. You may think my ideas to be boring or antiquated (and I might not disagree), but for each humanoid the concept of what is “special” is going to be personal. And, yes, I try to fit myself into that list whenever possible.

The truth is that I’m just your average university student trying to figure out what he’s doing with his life. Sometimes it helps to believe that I’m special, simply to ease an overwhelming message which is a byproduct of living in an individualist culture. The message reads like this: YOU are responsible for actualizing your own human potential and finding your own happiness. (Woah… why’d you have go all “Doctor Phil” on me?) Perhaps this sounds profound or sad or tiresome or even misinterpreted, but this is what I have learned - if it’s an individualistic culture, then I am individually responsible.

Yet whether you belief that or not, I still think we all want to feel special. Perhaps we even have a right to be special. So whether it’s your single-shot, decaf, tall, hazelnut latte or the fact that you can sing like Pavarotti, I guess we just need to choose carefully what will make us individuals… what will make us “special”.

Thanks for the music, Pavarotti... you were indeed special.

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[the little spruce tree]... teaser

[the little spruce tree] begins a new season in a matter of days.
Stay tuned for more introspective ramblings
and questionable attempts at humour.


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Where the hell is...?

Well summer has officially arrived (as of yesterday). Happy Solstice!

In regular Daniel fashion, summer brings a bit of travel, adventure, and work for me... currently, I'm over on the left coast getting ready to start a work contract in Alaska with a teen travel company.

In honour of adventure, here's a little clip of a man named Matt Harding who has made a name for himself as an adventurer, humourist, and jigger. Watching the video always makes me smile.



If you liked the clip, you can visit his website (wherethehellismatt.com) to find out more information on where he's been, how he's traveled, and where the hell he might be at the moment.

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Unfortunately, due to work commitments, I am not going to be able to provide a lot of new content for [the little spruce tree] in the coming weeks. So, I wanted to open the blog up to submissions from you! If you'd like to contribute something (a love song, a video, a story, a poem, a rant, whatever!), send it to me and I will post it as I go.

I would be honoured to receive your stuff!

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Virus

Here's a little something that I wrote a few years ago, and recently updated. It is interesting to go back to old things with fresh eyes. Perhaps I will come back to this in a few years and decide it needs updating.

One can hope.



Virus

We are an entertaining virus

We have taboos and hairdos
and plant trees in concrete spaces

We drink caffeine and paint our faces
and take ourselves too seriously

We speak in dialects and hand gestures
and hope that someone else will
spare some change

We bruise easily and forgive slowly
We want greatly and consume quickly

We are a productive plague.

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Yet I sit back and watch us eat away,
watch us spread.

And I try not to despair.

Instead I sit on benches
and observe
and hope
that by watching and learning

I could be part of a reparation.

Stretching out on a rock...

Hey spruce tree readers... I apologize for the lack of content lately. I was recently on vacation, and have since returned with a bit of a cold. Thus creative energies have been at a minimum. Feel free to send out some good vibes my way.

Anyway, in my attempt to get myself a bit more grounded, I decided to do some yoga at home. I was looking for some videos to inspire me. This one was lovely...





(inhale, exhale... this will keep me grounded)

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Literary Portrait #1: Alfred's Secret

I have decided to introduce a new feature to [the little spruce tree], it's called "Literary Portrait". One of life's simple pleasures is to sit and watch people, and I wanted to incorporate that experience of inquisitive observation into this space - to simulate the moment through words. I simply write what I am experiencing (thoughts, emotions, questions,etc) which is influenced by the interactions of the social space.

Let me know if you have any thoughts/reactions to it.



I have been here for nearly an hour. Sipping scalding Earl Grey, picking at a buttery croissant, and doing my best to absorb the information that my textbook dangles before me.

Then he enters.

A man of 80 years, perhaps. He looks like an "Alfred".

Alfred whistles along to the sad jazz music that plays as he takes of his snow covered boots and places on indoor shoes. He wears a gold watch and a ring on the right finger. There is something right about him. On his head sits a wool cap that is removed to reveal whispy white hair and a small bald area.

He is old, but seems joyful... and I am mesmerized by this.

Alfred speaks to me briefly in French, and I reply shyly with my limited skills, wishing that I could better honour his willingness to engage me. He tells me how lovely this space is; this cafe where funeral home and art gallery and library softly find a meeting point. Often there is death in the air, but Alfred seems to keep it at bay with unabashed life.

He walks to the back to speak with the girls who work here. The seem happy to humour him and exchange French words like free flowing traffic moving in opposite directions. He hovers there longer than socially appropriate, perhaps wanting to savour the interactions.

One of the girls brings a coffee to his seat, and he commences to hum again. The music from the stereo has stopped in the cafe and his quick tune fills the space. He sits, coffee sipping and flipping through his newspaper.

Alfred's face is long; time has pulled on his cheeks with indifference to any aspiration of maintaining youth.

The music recommences and Alfred adds more hot milk to his espresso. He sips and says, "C'est bon, le café". The newspaper rests at the crossword and he holds a pencil in his right hand while humming once more at the music.

I do my best not to stare, but I want to witness his moves. I want to soak in his ability to be alive. I want to ask him how he has maintained his spirit.

Alfred holds a secret.

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tree/plugs

Here´s what´s good in the world:


[heard] Mika. If you haven’t heard (and loved) Grace Kelly on the radio by now, then you are officially being diagnosed with the boring bug. Mika’s debut album, Life in Cartoon Motion, is sweeping through the land faster than herpes at a whorehouse.

In Billy Brown he sings about a married man falling “victim of the times”, poor Billy falls in love with another man. Mika gives a nod to fat girls everywhere in Big Girl (You are Beautiful), saying that ya’ll have “curves in all the right places”. He even gets a bit sentimental in Happy Ending, calling for a “little bit of love” for all of those who have been burnt by love. It’s campy, it’s light, it’s sassy, it’s fun, and it’s sugary pop perfection… just in time for summer.

I just want to pinch his cheek(s).


[read] Dwell. A magazine subscription is great because it guarantees that I will get at least one thing in the mail per month that is not a bill. A Dwell subscription is great because I get 100 pages of beautiful design (homes, appliances, art, and more), reviews of household products, and sustainable ideas to make my life functional and fabulous. The magazine is for those who appreciate good design but haven’t yet had the opportunity to go to art school; it is accessible, but tasteful.

Core values of the magazine include creating spaces and objects that are environmentally sustainable, that build community, and that are beautiful. I am converted. It’s time to start accepting the fact that we don’t have to compromise form and function… everything we buy should work wonderfully and look beautiful.

Now it’s up to us as consumers to demand this.



[seen] Shut Up and Sing. There is something about a sharp-tongued southern gal that makes my heart go pitter-patter. In the spring of 2003, Natalie Maines spitted out a phrase that would cause years of turmoil for The Dixie Chicks… “We’re ashamed that George Bush is from Texas”.

The filmmakers take us along a journey of intense pro-American backlash and the impact that Maines’ words had. Shown are three intelligent women who understand the music industry game they are playing, who have a sense of humour about their scenario, and who are willing to speak out for freedom of speech. It’s more than a documentary about a country band; it’s about standing up for what you believe in.

The Dixie Chicks, I believe in.



[experienced] Hedonism - the philosophy that focuses on increasing pleasure.

For the past month, I have been lucky to have some down time to recover from a hectic school year and enjoy a slower pace of life. I have watched movies, read a novel, practiced yoga, made a video, and spent leisurely hours with friends. It was basically about enjoying life and being good to myself.

Is it okay to pause? To take extended time for self? Is it a privilege or a right? Could we go as far as saying that self-indulgence could lead to enlightenment?

You tell me.

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"Society better get used to..."

Speaking of "deviant" sexual behaviour, the CBC Archives has some really amazing footage of a 1950's television special on homosexuality, as well as other footage throughout the past 50 years.

It is quite the marker of a cultural shift.

From the CBC Archives:

"It's 1959, and homosexuality is a topic few are willing to discuss. Like some of the people interviewed on the street in this CBC Television clip, many believe that homosexuals should be locked up. Most in the medical profession believe homosexuality is, at best, a psychiatric problem. But a gay man — interviewed in silhouette to protect his identity — says society has to get used to homosexuals, and not the other way around..."

Take me to the archives...