Fuck you, demon (and other birthday wishes)

First, a few changes and realizations about writing a blog:

1 - I'm a night-worker (that's what 'melatonin' means (irrelevant factoid)) and I haven't had internet access at night - for most of September. Hence the poor productivity. You should see my pay-check..

2 - I'm now better at (or addicted to?) writing online. I tried writing entries on paper and then typing them out. ug. My journal is suffering too..

Back to the story.. I finished The Glass Castle just before my birthday, and my favorite part of it is on page 36. That didn't make the rest of it meaningless, just not as favorite as that part. I loved the book, highly recommended.
I was going to type out the whole scene here, but now I'm not. It's too long (I'm too lazy).

It goes like this:

The main character, Jeanette, is four or five years old at this point. She thinks she sees something under her bed. Her sister tells her she's crazy, but she's scared, so she goes to tell her Dad (who is an alcoholic/genius/'kind of person I'd probably be friends with' - kinda guy). He says, "really, did he have big teeth and claws, and was he a hairy sonofabitch, with beady little eyes?"
She says, "you've seen him too?"
And he says, "you bet I have, it's that old bastard Demon.." and describes how Demon likes to scare people, but Rex Walls (her Dad) stood up to him years ago, and hasn't seen him for years. He tells her to get his hunting knife, and arms her with a pipe wrench, and they turn the house upside down looking for demon, calling him out.
He's nowhere to be found, of course.
He doesn't really explain it to her - the lesson speaks for itself.  She goes on, from some very rough roots, to become a great writer and seemingly cool person. She cleary got it. Her Dad, sadly, did not. The one Demon he couldn't scare out of himself was the bottle.

I woke up the morning of my birthday and it was raining hard. The fifteen minute bike ride didn't seem like much fun, since my rain gear was in the trunk of my car, 40 kilometers away (I finally got busted for my Ontario licence plate!). But I wanted to go to Ahousat for the day, it was the grand opening of their new high school, a pretty big event. I hummed and hawed about how wet and cold I'd get, and was right - I was sick for a week after spending the whole day soaked to the skin, using the 'body heat method' to dry my clothes. But I went anyway.

It was my birthday, I wanted to have a nice day. I remembered how my Mom used to say, every time that song by Garth Brooks came on - Standing outside the Fire - "You're so quiet and shy, Paddy, and I don't know why - but that's not you."

Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire.

I hear her voice sometimes when I feel afraid to do something, whether join in socially (it still scares me at times) or take a leap of faith in life, or just go a little outside my physical comfort zone..

Maybe that part of the book stood out because coming here, doing what I'm doing, scared me. But I'm not sure which character I'm more like, her Dad, who talked big, and was great in many ways, a maverick in some (and handsome too!), but there was one Demon he couldn't face. She, on the other hand, never talks about it, just did it. I wonder if he knew there was a fear he wasn't facing, or if he was blind to it.
Do I have fears I can't face, or don't see? Sometimes I wonder if I'm afraid of stopping. Sometimes I wonder if I'm afraid of going..

And I talk a lot about warrior-iness, but really - the only battles that matter happen within. Once those are won or lost, they are often reflected in our lives - but not always in ways people can see.

Later that night I went to Schooner Cove (Long Beach) with some friends for a fire and hotdogs. They drove us all out and bought me beer and were super cool (and yelled "surprise" as I walked back to the truck, which acually worked:). It was a fun, great birthday.
I also found a white tail feather from a bald eagle, my fifth in life. Probably from the same eagle that gave me my first and second, but maybe not. Not sure what it meant, or again just - "you're on the right path."

My birthday wish to myself was, for the year, and life, to always say, "fuck you, Demon."
I guess the flipside of that is, what the white feather has always meant to me - faith. Facing your fears requires faith - that things will work out in a way you can't yet understand.

Wanting to fly higher and higher
I can't abide
Standing outside the fire.

Hitchhiking 101

I had to take my car to Ucluelet the other day to get a safety inspection to transfer my plates from Ontario to BC, and ended up hitch-hiking back to Tofino. I was wondering how long it'd take to get a ride, I tried hitching in Tofino the other day and it took a while to get one, so I was wondering if I'd lost my touch...

Once I was done with the car I wrote Tofino on a chunk of cardboard I'd brought, and suddenly thought, if I don't get aross the street quick I might miss my ride! I dashed across the road, an old green pickup pulled up on the street across from me, turning onto my road, and going my way. I thought, 'now that'd be a ride in style,' stuck my thumb out and smiled, looking eager...

And he stopped! First car = a good day. And it was.



The driver of what turned out to be a 1953 chevy pickup (with a '58 engine) was a dude in his 50's, laid back and clearly smart and interesting.

Rule # 1 about hitchhiking - people who pick up hitchhikers are always interesting, they are non-conformists who follow their own rules. You're not 'suposed' to pick up hitchhikers. Pickers-uppers usually speed (not always) and they are always mavericks in some way.

I've been picked up by drunks, doctors (hot german doctors), lawyers, a Quebec MP, people who wanted to protect me from harm, people who wanted to do me harm, oil barons, drug/cigarette smugglers, mule-skinners, people who wanted me to talk to them so they could smoke pot and drive for fourteen hours straight, and a ninety-year-old couple that just wanted to know my parent's last names...

This guy said he was only going to Combers Beach, about halfway to Tofino, and I could go that far or get off earlier at the interesection, where I'd have a better chance of getting a lift. "Did you say 'beach'?"

I didn't wanna crowd the guy, but we were having a nice chat, so I tagged along and we strolled along Combers, which is fantastic, especially at low tide, and chatted about life. Turns out his name's also Pat, he's an accountant, and he gave me advice on learning how to drive a motorcycle. Then he offered to give me a lift to Tofino, said he had to go get some soup one of these days anyway, and then he wouldn't have to cook dinner. Awesome, so I got a lift back to town.

That leads me to:

Rule # 2 about hitchhiking - the less you care about getting to your destination, the sooner you'll get there (detachment). For example, my third and fourth hitching trips - a month each in Europe, I developed this habit: people are curious about how you do the basics of life; pee, eat, wash, where you sleep. And they generally ask it in that order. To the first questions I'd answer honestly ( and make it interesting of course (as long as we're doing rules: Rule # 1 of being a Maritimer - if you're going to tell a story - make sure it's good. Don't get hung up on it being true, no-one wants to hear a true boring story...). They'd eventually build up the nerve to ask; "and, .. where do you sleep?"

I'd give a dramatic pause and say, "wherever I am when it gets dark." The thing is, it was true. And it reflected how little I cared. I had a backpack with a good tent (for rain only, otherwise - under the stars), sleeping bag, and experience - I'd slept outside in every kind of place and condition one could imagine, and I genuinely didn't care. The one thing was - I don't hitchike after dark. Period. And if they asked follow up questions I'd explain whatever details they were curious about, then they'd give the dramatic pause. Or change the topic, while they thought. And somewhere between 10 seconds and three hours later nine out of ten people would invite me home to stay at their place. I wasn't looking for that, I just let it happen. I knew ultimately that it would get dark, I'd sleep somewhere, I was 22, and free, and happy, and I'd be the same tomorrow. And the next day...

That brings us to:

Rule # 3 of hitch-hiking - Never hitch-hike after dark. I know some people grow up in hitch-hiking Oases, like Tofino, maybe a few places in Quebec, and do it, and get away with it, but in the big bad world out there - you enter the realm of vampires, werewolves, and other human Predators. Believe me, I learned the hard way (although I never got hurt, raped, or killed (clearly - I got better!)) - I had some close calls. It gets dark = go to sleep. Or go party, read, do your sewing, anything other than hitch-hike. I've given this advice to lots of people, and the one's who don't listen at first, do later.

That's it for now. I think there'll have to be more entries on this subject, there's a few more rules. Maybe they would be better termed, 'Principles.'

So, Pat the accountant drove me back to Tofino in his green 53 Chevy pick-up, I went about my day, and as the hitchhiking-personal-power-gods had revealed by the omen of the first car picking me up - it was a good day.

Busted flat in Baton Rouge, headin' for the train,
Feelin' nearly faded as my jeans.
Bobby thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained;
Took us all the way to New Orleans.
I took my harpoon out of my dirty red bandanna,
And was blowing sad while Bobby sang the blues.
With them windshield wipers slappin' time,
And Bobby clappin' hands,
We finally sang up every song that driver knew.

Freedom's just another word for nothing' left to lose:
Nothin' ain't worth nothin' but it's free.

Meares Island

I ended up on Meares Island my first full day back in Tofino. Walking around in the rain I reflected on the meaning of this place, to me personally, and to Clayoquot Sound / BC / Canada..

This is a shot of it I took last fall from Tofino;

After pulling into Tofino late one night last week I ran into a few friends who run a traditional First Nation paddling business - Tla-ook Cultural Adventures - and they invited me out the next day. It was misty and a little rainy, and I was underdressed, which felt like a proper induction to this place...

My friend Giselle (normally I change people's names, but since this is also a business plug that seems silly) lead four tourists and I (I qualified as a local!) on a paddle in a large dug-out canoe across part of Clayoquot Sound to Meares Island, where she guided us on a hike through the old-growth temperate rainforest. The paddle, hike, and stories are fantastic, even for someone who's spent a lot of time here. If you haven't done it yet - you should.
Why is there old-growth temperate rainforest here? It's not a mystery (unless you want to dig deeper into people's hearts, and the nature of the decisions we all make between money and wealth), it's a neat story that hasn't ended yet.

Giselle explained to us how, in 1984, Tla-oh-qui-aht and Ahousat people, and local environmentalists, got a heads up that MacMillan Bloedel was coming to clear-cut parts of Meares Island. When the loggers showed up in their boat they were greeted by First Nations leaders and environmentalists. Giselle's father was there, and as the boat pulled up First Nations leaders sang traditional welcome songs. The loggers were told they were welcome to visit Meares Island, but their chainsaws and tools were not.

The loggers left. Lawyers were called and injunctions filed, by both sides. This lead to the Meares Island court case ( MacMillan Bloedel Ltd. v. Mullin, 1985 CanLII 154 (BC CA) ). Another First Nations friend and I had a conversation about this case last November. He said that the case, which was decided in favour of the First Nations involved, was not decided on the basis of s. 35 of the Constitution. But I was skeptical.

In university we; a) mainly deal with Supreme Court cases, just because. And b) there is a feeling, totally unspoken, pervading all discussions of law in relation to First Nations people - that they have the rights they now have "because we gave it to them" - through s. 35 of the Constitution, and because Trudeau was a hell of a good guy. It's just not true.

There was already a body of law developing recognizing First Nation's interests in their lands, both on and off reservation, as a "pre-existing legal right not created by the Royal Proclamation...the Indian Act...or any other executive order or legislative provision." The Meares Island case is the turning point in that line of cases.

When you're out here you can feel it, this isn't the concrete streets of Ottawa or Victoria, and for governments to try to ignore the power and authority of First Nations over their land, here, where it's not only continuous, but palpable - would be ridiculous. The fact is they have their rights because they control their land, today. The source of their rights is them, not us (there's a lot of pressumptions there, about who's reading, this, and who I am.. :).

The Judge in the Meares Island case described the case's relevance as:

Meares Island is important to MacMillan Bloedel in this way. MacMillan Bloedel has gone through all of the necessary steps to obtain permission to cut. If it is stopped here there is worry that it will be stopped elsewhere. Meares Island has become the front line in the dispute over Indian title. It has also become central to the dispute between the logger and those who favour the preservation of wilderness areas.

Meares Island is important to MacMillan Bloedel not because of its trees, but because it is where the line has been drawn. It has become a symbol.

...

The Indians have pressed their land claims in various ways for generations. The claims have not been dealt with and found invalid. They have not been dealt with at all. Meanwhile, the logger continues his steady march and the Indians see themselves retreating into a smaller and smaller area. They too have drawn the line at Meares Island. The Island has become a symbol of their claim to rights in the land.

The Tla-oh-qui-aht and Ahousat people were seeking an injunction against logging while their actual case was prepared for trial - a case deciding their rights. The injunction was granted, halting logging on Meares Island (they won). The subsequent case deciding their rights never went to trial, instead a treaty process was initiated, which is ongoing today (for some First Nations).

Professor Hamar Foster (UVic) explains the relevance of the case well in a paper on First Nations litigation: 

... Legally, however, the turning point was the Meares Island decision. For the first time, a BC court ruled that the matter of aboriginal title was sufficiently important to justify issuing an injunction against logging. In that case, Seaton, JA wrote that "the proposal is to clear-cut the area. Almost nothing will be left. I cannot think of any native right that could be exercised on lands that have been recently logged … The Indians wish to retain their culture on Meares Island as well as in urban museums."

and Professor Foster continued...

I think that something else Justice Seaton said in 1985 in the Meares Island case is instructive. Responding to the argument that halting logging on the island would render investments throughout the province uncertain, he agreed that there was a problem with forest tenures and aboriginal title that had not been dealt with in the past. But he did not agree that this meant that the courts should back off. “We are being asked to ignore the problem as others have ignored it,” he wrote. “I am not willing to do that.” This passage is not quoted in the recent Haida decision, but I rather think that it helps to explain that case and a number of others.

There's just a funny energy in this place, it's a powerful place, a place of turning points. It always has been for me. It's a place of lines in the sand, and there's lots of sand to draw lines on. I posted this picture on fb recently, and my brother said, "end o' the road, brother - fitting no?"

I set out on my first real journey away from home when I was nineteen, and hitchhiked across Canada. After pushing through all those boundaries of fear and self-doubt - I finally got here, the end of the Trans-Canada highway, and that was the point where I became a man, my own person. Two days ago I finally bumped my status back up to 'practicing' - I am now a "Renegade Environmental Lawyer, employed by the Universe" ;) living in Tofino BC. This little place has been the seat of change for First Nations, environmentalists, been the centre of the end of logging as we knew it in Canada (in 1993) - and may be the centre of more change yet: the end of the present mining regime in Canada? More postive change for First Nations? The end of open ocean fish farms?
Who knows what wonders the future holds...

And yeah, you heard right - I've finally decided to live in Tofino. It's been 19 years in the making - what the hell was I waiting for?

I can't wait to get to Meares Island again, to spend time with my mountain pal and the energy of change...