Week Four: Tailings

The tailings pond breach at Mt. Polley. Photo by The Nelson Daily

What are you willing to go without? Your computer? Your TV? How about your cell phone? Your digital connection to the world? How many technological comforts are you willing to abandon for the sake of the environment?

A pristine forest creek in central BC became toxic sludge dump last week. If the history of mining disasters teaches us anything, it's that a spill of this magnitude will never get cleaned up. The story is the same everywhere, and it always goes something like this: 

1) Disaster occurs, which is rarely surprising after years of warnings being ignored and critics being muzzled, etc:

"In an email to CBC News, a Ministry of Environment spokesperson said the ministry gave the company its latest of five warnings in May, this time for exceeding the permitted height of wastewater within its tailings pond."

Source: http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/mount-polley-mine-tailings-pond-breach-followed-years-of-government-warnings-1.2728591

"Likely resident Larry Chambers [...] had worked at the mine but was dismissed at the end of last year. He said it was because he had raised safety and environmental concerns."

Source: http://www.vancouversun.com/health/Imperial+Metals+given+deadline+dealing+with+disastrous+breach+Mount+Polley+mine+tailings/10088871/story.html

2) Token expression of shock and sorrow from the company and the government, with both promising thorough reviews and more responsible resource management in the future:

"Our first priority is the health and safety of our employees and neighbours, and we are relieved no loss of life or injury have been reported. We are deeply concerned and are working to mitigate immediate effects and understand the cause." - Imperial Metals

Source: http://www.imperialmetals.com/s/News_2014.asp?ReportID=667967

B.C. Energy and Mines Minister Bill Bennett says he is devoting every appropriate resource to deal with the consequences of Monday's spill. "This is a serious incident that should not have happened," he said in a written statement. "We will determine the cause of the event and we are determined to prevent an incident like this from happening again."

Source: http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/mount-polley-mine-tailings-water-very-close-to-drinking-quality-company-says-1.2727776

3) Photo op with the local first nation and government officials. Because if history has taught us anything, it's that our goverment cares a great deal for the welfare of Aboriginal peoples.

Christie Clark and Minister of Energy & Mines Bill Bennett at
a smudge with the Secwepemc First Nation after the spill,
photo from CFNRfm.ca

4) Laughably small fine levied under a poorly enforced subsection of environmental protection law.

Historical case in BC, one of many documented in "Undermining the Law," published 2001 by West Coast Environmental Law: http://wcel.org/resources/publication/undermining-law-addressing-crisis-compliance-environmental-mining-laws-bc

Teck Coal at Fording River Coal Mine, guilty in 2001 of harmful alteration or disruption of fish habitat under the Fisheries Act; guilty of 2 charges of releasing special waste and failure to comply with the requirements of an approval under the Waste Management Act.

Total fines levied: $18,000.
Teck Coal Revenues in 2001: $2.379 billion.

5) Lives and businesses of local residents destroyed, environment permanently altered by toxins and debris.

"This thing is so surreal, so unneccessary, the whole community is just so devastated," he told CBC. "This is our life, this is why we're here, this water is so pristine. And they've killed it. They've killed my town, they've killed my damn town." - Skeed Boorkowski, fly fishing destination resort owner, Likely BC.

Ongoing case, tailings seepage and spills from Alberta tar sands mines:
"The river water tastes differently now — oily, sour, or salty, for instance. Boiling Athabasca River water leaves a brown residue in pots. And fish in the river sport high rates of lesions and deformities." - resident reports from Fort Chipewyan.

Source: https://www.sciencenews.org/blog/science-public/tar-sands-fingerprint-seen-rivers-and-snow

6) Slow cleanup effort, perpetually hampered by delays, excuses, and foot-dragging by industry, government, and those charged with monitoring the cleanup. Taxpayers eat the bill for the majority of cleanup costs.

Historical case in Yellowknife, NWT: Giant Mine.

"Documents obtained by northern environmentalists show the government expects the cost of cleaning up the Giant Mine just outside Yellowknife to be nearly a billion dollars – perhaps the largest single environmental cleanup in Canada and paid for entirely by taxpayers.
Initial estimates for safely dealing with the huge site, which includes a toxic smorgasbord of buildings, tailings ponds and a quarter-million tonnes of arsenic stored underground, were about $488-million. A federal progress report on the project says costs have increased as more has become known about the scale of the problem."

Source: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/giant-mines-high-cleanup-bill-shakes-up-policy-on-toxic-sites/article10659731/

7) Business as usual.

"N. Murray Edwards, the controlling shareholder of Imperial Metals Corp. which owns the Mount Polley mine, helped organize a $1-million private fundraiser in Calgary last year to bolster B.C. Premier Christy Clark’s re-election bid."
Source: http://www.vancouversun.com/news/Major+Imperial+Metals+shareholder+held+private+fundraiser+Clark+election/10102715/story.html#ixzz3A2YBLoWK


The spill at Mt. Polley last week hit particularly close to home for me. They mine copper and gold. I work in the electronics industry where copper and gold are the essential minerals that make our work possible. Every piece of electronic technology you own contains both ingredients. They're absolutely essential to the modern world, and the digital connectivity we all enjoy wouldn't be possible without them.

It's incredibly sad and not particularly surprising to see this disaster unfold. The precedent has been set for years. A cursory review of mining history shows a legacy of profits and devastation, where a select few reap the benefits and the rest of us pay the cost. I don't see how this particular case will turn out any different.

And it hurts, because I depend on it for my livelihood. More than the average person. I repaired something for the Mt. Polley mine a few months ago. My own personal stamp on this legacy - somewhere in central BC, one of their trucks has my handiwork inside.

Where does this leave me? It gets harder and harder all the time to ignore the ethical queasiness in the pit of my stomach. In fact, I can't ignore it and it's gnawing at me. I'm working on my exit strategy, but it's scary because this work virtually guarantees me a good salary for as long as I'd care to receive it and it's ever so tempting to forgo my principles and passions for the sake of financial stability, just as so many others have done. I'm not going to let that stop me, but I don't care to pass judgement on those who choose long term security instead. In our society, it's a sound strategy. Who among us can justifiably criticize it? We all need food and shelter, and unfortunately the resource extraction industry is one of the few left in Canada that can provide working people with a decent living wage.

I think about others who are in my position and weep. Everyone working in Fort Mac in Alberta's tar sands knows exactly what they're up to and what the effect is on the environment, but they're also regular people who've been caught up by a system that demands of their time and talents in exchange for money.

It's easy to vilify Big Oil and Big Industry and their ilk, but those evil corporations are made up of people just like me who are struggling to keep the bills paid and put food on the table. Most of their ranks are composed of workers who saw an opportunity to feed their families and took advantage. This is a systemic problem, and if we would live to see it resolved we all have a role to play.

Do you want to prevent these sort of disasters? I see it all the time on Facebook, from the slogans to the re-posting of articles about this tailings spill - "Stop the Tar Sands," "No Pipelines," "This is Unacceptable." Pick a popular campaign, there's no lack of them to choose from. But our individual role in negating these disasters isn't being talked about. I feel that until people are as interested in environmental advocacy and action as they are in Facebook, we're going to stay in the same pattern. That device you just used to re-tweet or share or Like that article is made of the same ingredients that Mt. Polley mine has been pulling out of the ground.

So again I ask, what are you willing to give up? Because to me, waiting around to see what "they" will figure out next to produce cleaner energy and more ethical cell phones is a huge cop-out. There is no magic bullet, there is no single product or invention that will rapidly change the economy that is built on copper wire and gold contacts. If you're willing to sacrifice a mine worker's job, but you're simultaneously unwilling to unplug your phone and turn off your computer, you're a hypocrite. Just like me.

Why do mines like Mt. Polley exist? Because we buy their products. They dig up mineral ores because we keep asking for them. Because we depend on the metals they sell to get our news, start our cars, read our text messages, check our email, do our banking, pay for our coffees, and watch our TVs.

Who among us will implicate ourselves? I'm not ready to throw my cell phone away and move into the forest just yet, so where's the middle ground? If I abandon my job and can't feed my family as a consequence, what ethical ground have I gained? Fear of starvation and homelessness are small comfort for the sake of a clean conscience.

We all have to make a choice - individually and collectively. I see nothing in the future but failure until we've all agreed collectively and individually that going without some of life's modern comforts and slowing down on development is an acceptable outcome.

I don't know what to do. It's a massive problem, and I'm part of it. Every part of my day depends on copper and gold. My leisure, my communication, and my paycheque. You wouldn't be reading this blog without them. I wouldn't be writing it. Is there another way around it, other than letting the whole thing fall in on itself? Not as far as I can tell. I'm working on my exit strategy. How about you?

Photo by Jonathan Hayward, Canadian Press

Week Three: The Holiday Monday Edition

After a week of false starts and unfinished drafts, sometimes the thing to do is wipe the slate and start over. I have this grand idea at the beginning of every week that I'm going to put together a masterful piece of writing - evocative, touching, clever. It's already written in my head, and all I need to do is get it down on paper, type it up, and there's another week in the books.

Days pass and words emerge, but not quickly enough. Things just don't go quite right. I find myself wrestling with moments of indecision, or hesitating, or stopping before I really feel finished because some other needs butt in and get in the way.

One of the greatest challenges that I have in my life is my struggle to hold the clarity of mind that I need to focus on one task and to finish it well, according to what I feel I'm capable of creating. There have been times in the past that I've succeeded and felt vindicated for my efforts. Sometimes, like this week, I feel like a fraud.

The past couple of weeks, I feel that I've done a poor job of regulating my relative input/output energy cycles. Perhaps I'm too hard on myself, but I'm not punishing myself for failures. I'm trying to make an honest accounting of what I'm capable of doing and what I've done.

I recently had a succession of powerful, otherworldly experiences. Three weekends in a row, I partook in some unique and mind-bending experiences that enriched my whole being. I walked away from those feeling enlightened and charged with creative energy. But life isn't all unique and mind-bending experiences. The real task is to carry that forward through the day-to-day without losing stride and without falling victim to the easy trappings of routine - idleness, wasted hours, mild but tolerable discomfort...

That may seem harsh, and I know that it is. I'm my own worst critic, as the cliche goes. But sometimes it's not entirely clear to me what I need to do differently. I create situations in my mind where there's enough time and energy to make everything happen. I practice my guitar for hours a day. I start my morning with yoga and a good breakfast. I sit down to write or read a good book instead of browsing the internet. It's a beautiful fantasy, and there are times that I struggle to make it a reality.

I have few wants and needs that are not met. There is one, though, that I don't think I'll ever fulfill - it's the desire to recycle the charge of creative energy that I receive from the people and situations in my life into creative endeavors that befit the gift I feel that I've been given.

I am immeasurably blessed. I am the recipient of beautiful gifts of love and time and good intentions from the people who are closest to me. It is my greatest desire to see that good energy turned into creativity that I feel is an honest expression of my capabilities. Sometimes I'm successful, sometimes I'm not.

I don't make a habit of getting down on myself. I'm a human being with flaws and challenges and bad habits like everyone else, but I can also look at where I've spent the most time and energy in my life and see great friendships, a wonderful relationship with my partner, a smart and healthy and curious little boy who incites in me a desire to be a better person, to impart the kind of wisdom that I hope he'll carry forward into making the world a better place.

And with all that, there's the deluge of modern life. The mundane experience that's really anything but - work, home, study, music, writing, love, the routine of living. It's this amazing gift that feels overwhelming at times, and on days like today, it freezes me in my tracks as I try do decide how to act, what to do, how best to spend my time.

This blog has always been an exercise in self-discipline for me. I need it. And it helps, but not always. The incredible contrast between some of my recent experiences and what I do for work during my daytime hours has been difficult to reconcile. I have this feeling that things don't have to be this way, that I can spend more of my hours being engaged and consumed in creative passion and expression.

The most challenging thing is to make the world beautiful. I'm in a situation where it would be so easy to coast. I'm finished with school, I have a regular gig and a stable home. The pull of comfort and routine is incredibly powerful, but I don't want to succumb to it, and I don't plan to. What I need is a continuous challenge, a goal to work towards, a standard that I set for myself that's lofty but realistic.

Lofty but realistic. It's a tough balance at times, because I know what I can do when I'm able to gather the presence of mind. For as long as I can remember I've struggled with focus and attention, and finishing what I've started. We all have our hurdles, and this is mine. It's been a constant companion that I'd love to be rid of, but it's forever waiting for me to slip up in my good habits and slide back towards mediocrity.

I put this all out partially as a way to fulfill my weekly word count, but also as a marker that I can use to gauge my future success. I can look and say, I remember that week when I reached the end and knew that I could have done better - have I improved? Have I ameliorated my habits? Did my output match my capabilities? I hope that I'll be able to answer those questions in the affirmative far more often than not.

Week Two: I See a World

I imagine that I'm someplace high. A vantage point of sorts. Perhaps a cliff watching over a deep valley, or a mountaintop that feels like a compass needle pointing to infinity. I see every direction, in every dimension.

I imagine the tapestry of infinity, woven in energy's loom and all laid out above and below me. It is the greatest art, vast beyond reason. Neither created nor destroyed, only changed from one colour to the next. I imagine that I am not colourblind.

How can I see infinity? In truth, I cannot. Its weave stretches beyond every horizon, a living canvas of endless possibilities. From far away it resembles coloured sands, forever blown and sifted by what if and remember when and that's impossible. That which is infinitely many seems to move as one.

I gaze across incredible distance to the edge of my eventualities, the limit of my perception. I wonder when my path will take me beyond the horizon. I cannot perceive the curvature of time, much as I cannot see the curvature of the earth when I look across the prairies, but I know that an eternity from now I will find myself standing at this place again, once every moment between now and then has been resolved. 

I look closer. And then I imagine me. Every cell, every molecule in my body a fibre much to small to see on its own. Look, crouch down a moment and run your fingers along the fabric. Follow the twines and the knots just here, there's an inch of infinity, this red thread. I'm a blink in measureless space before I go to weave something new.

I see a world of colours diving through a canvas of time. I reel with the overwhelming chaos of it all. Too much. My brain screams for want of patterns, familiarity, something to recognize or someplace to start.

I choose a cord. A thick bundle of green like vines climbing a kaleidoscopic lattice, constantly changing direction, gathering new threads and casting others away, sometimes with such power that they fly beyond my sight. I lose years in seconds watching it unravel.

And then it's gone. I am lost with nothing to follow but the anxiety that arrives in its place, and I wonder if I will ever find myself again. An inch of infinity is so tiny. The path I followed was never straight. There is no hope of tracing my way back.

Where is my red thread? Must be somewhere in this reticulated picture of time, I suppose. I am hidden inside an infinite collection of moments that have come to resemble a single reddened inch in this eternal maze of creation. Come find me.

Images and patterns bloom and burst and disappear, in and out of time. I would panic if not for my fascination. Where am I? Every time I shift my gaze I find a new swath of technicolour possibilities rolling through the fabric like waves in an endless field of grain.

I reach for a thread. As I touch the canvas, my finger splits into a million tiny fibres and interlaces with infinity. I follow. And as I dissolve into a crimson spiral and feel the universe envelop me with a boundless embrace, I wonder... how far will I reach before my thread runs out? Who will weave with me?

If only for a moment, I have received this breath, this gift, this inch of red. Only for a moment before I have to give it back. And I see a world where colours clash and I think, 

if only.

If only I could make a gift befitting the love I long to see, I would give all my thread. I would give every fibre to the dream of a finer infinity, if only the soul who came after to this peak of perception would see a tiny swatch of red spinning just so, and say,

beautiful.

Week One: Taking Steps

It's time to start writing again. I'm not writing on a daily basis, and this blog has been vital to my writing process in the past. It's like the t-shirt in my closet that I can't bear to give away, even though I'll go months at a time without wearing it.

I started in July, 2011 and wrote for 20 weeks. I went again in February, 2013 and wrote for 26 weeks. This time I'm aiming for 32 weeks. Wish me luck.

I hadn't planned to walk on fire. 

I'm camping with my tribe of body ritual practitioners on a beautiful lake shore, beneath a canopy of green in the shadow of the Lillooet and Douglas mountains. I feel an early bedtime coming on, but my partner joins me beside the fire and someone hands me a djembe, so I stay. And I play the drum slow and steady while the logs burn low. 

It's story time. We listen to tales about fiery celebrations and Hindu gods, sacred flames and cleansing embers that turn the past into ash. Instructions are proffered, dangers acknowledged. Feet shuffle and coals beckon.

It scares me every time, says the firemaker.

He rakes the coals smooth and straight and long. He steadies himself, and then he takes the first walk. Another drum finds its way into the circle. We play with excitement and resonance. My friends take the firemaker's hand one-by-one and walk the glowing red path. The moon is huge and full and yellow, and feels terribly appropriate for the proceedings.

Suddenly, a quandary. I want to walk. I must not miss this experience. Firewalking while drumming is not one of my skills, but losing the rhythm is not acceptable. I make eye contact with a friend who can keep a steady beat, then I clench the djembe between my thighs and waddle towards him, playing all the while, until I have delivered my drum.

It's my turn. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth, that's what they say. My heart outpaces the steady djembe rhythms. I reach for a welcoming hand.

Hi John, I made a fire for you. 
Thank you.

The coals look like red silk sugarcoated with ash. Everything is otherworldly. I feel like I'm in that scene in a movie where the camera zooms to a glowing focal point in slow motion, and everything else goes blurry.

I take a deep breath. I walk. The firemaker holds my hand and I take measured, deliberate steps. Straight up, straight down. Don't curl your toes, you don't want to pick up hot coals. Second step, third step. An ember sticks to my left foot and I feel it immediately. My body tries to speed up. 

Get out of here, move! 

But I resist. Careful, deliberate. Another two steps. I feel another ember stick to my right foot and it interrupts my breath. Another step. Almost there, don't run. Three more steps, keep breathing. 

I step onto the grass. My feet are burning but I don't care. I am exhilarated. A good friend and mentor stands with his arms open and I dive into a bearhug. 

Let me feel your power, he exclaims! 

I imagine what all the energy coursing through my body might look like in this moment. I imagine glowing red and electric blue and neon yellow lines of flux that resonate all through me and arc across my limbs and sing in time with the drums. Flames dance through my vision. There's never been a better time to be on fire. 

My hands are shaking. I drift over to my where my partner waits for me, and I take her hand. I step into a bucket of cold water. 

You just walked on fire, she says. Holy schmoly. 
I know. Feels good, man. 

My body feels charged, like I could shoot sparks from my fingers. I drop into a chair and feel my heart pounding against my chest. In through the nose, out through the mouth, like they say. Deep breaths. I wriggle my dripping toes in the cool dirt and let the fire sink into the earth through my radiating feet.

I walked on fire.