There’s one hell of a wind out there today. As I watch the trees outside my window I marvel at their flexibility. The spruce branches are waving like undersea fronds and a poplar branch as big as my thigh still has the give to sway broadly as the wind gusts. As I sit cozy and safe in my home, I’m thinking there’s probably some really good metaphor about resiliency in there; the ability to bend and accommodate whatever gets blown your way.
When I took the garbage out, wind-kicked pinecones stinging my legs, I came across a bottle picker working at my dumpster. We chatted briefly as I tossed in my garbage and fought to keep my hair from blowing in my eyes. We naturally talked about this bloody awful wind; he seemed surprisingly cheerful and invigorated by it all. There’s probably some good lesson on resiliency in there too.
It’s all making me feel terribly grateful right now. Grateful for the warm sheltered home I have, able to watch those dancing branches from a place of comfort. Grateful too, for the Chinook wind that brings change and better weather. And more than anything, grateful for the ability, when the change comes too fast and roughs you up a bit, and unlike that homeless fellow, to be able to step out of it and take a break from it when I need to. There’s a pretty good metaphor in there too.
So maybe today, while you’re sitting cozy at home, and wondering what to buy people for Christmas, maybe instead you could click through and make a donation to the Calgary Homeless Foundation in lieu of gifts this year. Someone else could really use a safe place to step out of stormy weather.
Valerie Roney 
It was Dec. 6 recently. I am studying at SAIT Polytechnic for the first time.
I am not the oldest student in my program (which was a great relief.) But I may be the oldest Canadian born student. I might be the only student there who remembers the first time I heard the word Polytechnic. Who remembers the murders of 13 women for being female students at Montreal’s L’ecole Polytechnic. Once I knew their names. Now I can’t quite remember the number. (Genevieve. Maud. And one woman employee. And one suicide.) I used to go to memorials. There used to be bigger memorials.
I wanted to go to the memorial, but first I prepared for my afternoon. When I went to the hall the memorial was over. So I sat down near the white bouquets and noticed my breathing. I felt grateful.
I tried to feel sad and revolutionary but I felt grateful. To be able to be studying in my program at SAIT. And all the funding and pioneering women and pioneering adult students and years and lack of violence and second chances that brought me there. Perhaps the resiliency of civil society. A few nights before, insomniac during the first snowfall, I considered going for a walk. At 2 am, and Dec. 6 helped me to decide to take the risk, consider the statistics, go outside.
You could donate anywhere. You could help anyone. It all knits together, it all brings us here.
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“You could donate anywhere. You could help anyone. It all knits together, it all brings us here.”
Yes it does jyanti.
Well said.
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