You may have noticed that Dan has been posting a whole lot of entries, while I’ve seemingly dropped off the map. Well, dear readers, I’d ask you to think of it more as a temporary sabbatical.

The thing is that I've been pretty distracted since arriving in Inuvik. Our host, Martin Landry, has been keeping me busy with all sorts of things to see and do around the town. I’ve been snowmobiling more than ever before, ice-fishing for the first time, and driving the ice road on the Mackenzie River to the Arctic Ocean and Tuktoyaktuk. This is not to mention all the fine and interesting people there are in town here who Martin has introduced us to (names that I’m sure will come up over the course of the next month). It’s become apparent that not only is Martin the consummate host, but he’s a man with his fingers on the pulse of things going down in and around Inuvik. Gratitude to Martin, his roommates Terence and Richard, and his friends and colleagues CANNOT be emphasized enough.

Nevertheless, for me, activities of this sort are a two-edged blade. On the one hand, so much of Dan’s vision has to do with finding silence and being away from “it all” in order to gain a clearer perspective on the film’s focus: human connection to the natural world and the sacredness of place. On the other hand, I feel the only way to really gain that perspective is by breaking the silence and talking to the people who have this knowledge, the people who Dan has identified as the “dragons” we are searching for.

As a sociable person who finds so much learning and happiness by being around people, I'm finding it difficult to strike the balance between these two areas. And this matter is further complicated by the seemingly endless scope of the project. I can’t see where research stops and simple interaction begins though, I know the first is needed to move the project forward, and the second takes up valuable time and by it the project gains nothing.

But, I’ve talked about this before, and I knew this would likely be the biggest challenge for me when I undertook the roll of assistant. I know I must figure this all out. Oh, did I mention that as we are ready to start filming this fact is more present then ever? No PRESSURE Forbes!

Many people I have had the chance to talk to since coming North-people who came from the bigger towns and cities of the South-talk about how they quickly came to realize life up here moves at a different speed from the rest of Canada. For example, you have the expression "On Yukon time" which tells people to just forget about their schedules and let things happen. John Walker, a filmmaker we were lucky to talk with in Dawson, spoke about the mistake of rushing an interviewee in order to get the information you want or need, and counseled that we should rather be patient and take what we are given. Likewise, many city people, often whites, come up here and despite good intentions look for an instant postcard-like experience with the native people; yet, they will never get what they are looking for if they insist on this tack.

With this in mind, I guess it's appropriate that I'm now dealing with my biggest enemy: my impatience. I’m the kind of person who has always done things to the extent that my natural abilities allow me, without really striving for better or best results. I want this project to signify the turning of a new leaf. However, I have to realize that such ways cannot be changed with a snap of my fingers. So though it might be difficult and frustrating, I will remain committed to the goals I have set (i.e. finding a balanced approach to the project and doing it in my voice) and, with patience, allow them to be achieved.

So, if you now ask me, "How will you find this balance?", "How will you define your 'voice'?" or, "How will your voice differ from Dan's?", I will simply answer this: "Patience kind reader."