In Responce to Dan's Blog of Tuesday, Jan. 2nd :

I think what Dan said has merit: that ultimately, we should be moving beyond our current world where words can control perception. However, there is no doubt that at this point of space and time, words have so much power, it would be foolish to disregard their potential to help create positive change.

Think about the influence that religion has held over people. How are religions passed on? Through the words of the prophets. One quote from the Bible stands out in my mind: "In the beginning there was the Word..." John 1:1. Before a god, there were words that told us about god.

Think about the governments of the West...no, better think of all bureaucratic models, and then think how rhetoric defines what is "important".

Furthermore how do the traditions of our cultures, the stories of our parents, and the knowledge of first peoples transcend the generations? Through the spoken and written word almost completely.

Humans are unique in their ability to communicate ideas ranging from the mundane to the highly complex. And how do they do this? Words.

I don't think that the example given in the YouTube short is ideal, I simply think that the idea behind it is true: that words can have a big impact. It isn't about using words to create divisions (though they certainly are capable of doing that and have done it in the past), it's about using words to construct and breath life into a better reality.

Therefore, I say to all those who wish to create change in this century, do what has worked for humans thousands of years before you: first create the language that communicates change simply and effectively, and then watch change happen.

Ahhh Toronto’s traffic! Don’t it just make you wanna hop in your car, fight the city’s rush hours, morning and night, to get to your workplace and then back home to Oakville, Mississauga, Markham, or Oshawa? Don’t it make you wanna spend 2 or 3 hours of your waking day driving in stop and go traffic with selfish, or worse, simply BAD drivers who are likely to cause accidents, to go a distance that if there wasn’t any traffic would take you maybe HALF that time to drive? Don’t it make you wanna shell out $15 a day for gas (when gas prices are real, i.e. high)? Don’t it make you wanna roll down your window when you’re bumper to bumper and take a big, deep-down-to-your-toes breath of the exhaust being pumped out by all the idle cars?

No?

I mean, cars are important and all, but I can’t count how many times I’ve looked at a road/highway scene like the one in the photo above, and been thankful beyond words that I don’t have to be a participant in them—at least not yet. Thanks to my bicycle, commuting can be one of the more enjoyable parts of my day, tempered by the sobering excitement of things like getting wheels caught in street car tracks, having breaks fail because of wet roads, or getting cut off by cars!

From the corps of the city to its periphery a lot of people are making the same choice. During the rush hours, bike lanes are busy with all manner of bikers and their bikes. Some people are the types who like to boot it; decked out in all their fancy bike gear they look to make it to work in the best time possible. Others, simply tuck their pant leg into their socks, strap a helmet on, and take their time to negotiate the city streets and side paths that bring them to their destination.

It’s strange to think that more people in the city are just recently coming around to what modern bike couriers have known for more than15 years: if traffic is busy, you will get to wherever you need to go in the city much faster by bike then you will by car. No need to bother with finding and then paying for parking! No need to worry about one way streets or gridlock! Narrow alleys and parks are your friends, not hindrances!

Theft is another issue. I mentioned previously that Toronto has some of the highest rates (if not THE highest) of bike theft in Canada. However, the council of Chris (the guy who built and sold me my bike) was that all you need is a good lock. Realistically, he told me, there isn’t a lock you can buy that can’t be broken or compromised. However, all you need is a lock that will take a few extra seconds to break in order to deter a thief sufficiently to keep your ride safe. I mean crackheads are desperate, but they’re not stupid! (Um…I suppose that statement is up for debate.)

Of course warm weather and bicycles go together like foot and pedal. Biking to work in the glorious warm gleam of a new morning is much different than gritting your teeth and squinting your eyes into the frosty ire of winter, which is now closing in upon the city. What will be interesting to see is how winter (if you can call Toronto’s weather during the months between November and February winter!) will affect people’s ability to and interest in biking.

From the corps of Toronto it takes some time to get out into the country. For me, a pedestrian/cyclist, I find that as soon as I get in a car and have to deal with the streetlights, construction crews, traffic congestion, and idiotic self-centered dangerous oblivious drivers that are simply part and parcel of city driving, I become impatient to get out of the car.

The same must be true for anyone commuting to and from work. I mean, you can make the best of a traffic jam, but who in their right mind would enjoy it? At least, who would rather spend their time sitting idle in traffic then doing something (anything) outside the confines of their commuting can?

The way in which one confronts a weekend getaway from the city creates a similar amount of stress and displeasure as the daily commute. Measures are taken to minimize the time one has to spend on the road, like plotting to leave work early; strategicly evaluating which route out of the city should be taken after consulting the latest traffic and weather reports, the advice of friends and coworkers, and the stars; and praying to whatever gods or spirits they choose. But, in Toronto this is an empty ritual, as there is almost a 100% guarantee you will hit traffic regardless. For this reason, a weekend getaway would be better termed an “escape”.

Last weekend my cousin Eric, his friend Abby, and myself borrowed our roommate’s van for day-trip to an apple orchard to pick apples. It was a mini-escape type of venture that took us through the congestion of Saturday afternoon downtown traffic and the sprawl of suburbia before coming into the rolling hills, open farm pastures and fields of the communities to the north-east of the city.

The place we went, Algoma Orchards, was pretty busy, eventhough it was late in the season. The sky was a mix of clear blue, fluffy white clouds, and dark fat-bellied thunderheads, and the nip of winter cold was distinct in the air. Relatively few apples remained on the trees and the sweet, musty smell of rotting apples that had fallen to the ground swirled in the wind that blew through the orchard. The apples which remained on the trees were mostly on the topmost branches, safe from the reach of the children and adults who infest the trees like some kind of biblical plague every weekend.

We sauntered the aisles falling upon any good cluster of fruit that we could see, because at first apples seemed to be scarce. Then, as we made our way into the rows further away from the parking lot, we found trees still full of apples! At this time we were overcome, and in an act of pure opulence and waste, began to take single bites from different kinds of apples to see if we liked them enough to pick more. Upon realizing our frivolousness, we realized that many of the apples already on the ground were victims of the same mentality. We rationalized (a useful method for guilty sinners) that the apples we threw away would become the winter fodder for deer, birds, and other animals, though I don’t think we really knew.

As we walked back to the parking lot, I thought about the simple act of picking apples and how it’s one way that denizens of the city are able to reconnect, if briefly, to the source of their food. It isn’t that the concept of “pick your own” farms is new. However, their continuing popularity says something to me: people are interested in being part of the process that brings food into their homes. A quick search on the Internet reveals a bunch of such places where you can pick everything from pumpkins to peaches. One site offered contact info for farms around the world, www.pickyourown.org. Hell! Some farmers actually CHARGE people for the privilege of coming to do their work! Granted, for many people, perhaps this is simply a novel way to spend an afternoon like going to see a movie; they don’t necessarily learn anything about how orchards work by coming to pick. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t be a big leap for them to ask about it, if they were interested. And, any time you bring children to a new environment different from what used to the city, there is likely to be lots of curiosity about how things work.

I suppose I just find it encouraging to know that people in a monster city like Toronto, are not without means to experience farm life first hand and recognize its importance.

Toronto. It’s a name that brings a palatable aversion, if not outright loathing into the minds of many Canadians. And, up until recently I would have counted myself among the ranks of these people. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because nearly all Canadian comedians or satirists have, at one time or another, picked on Toronto, so it is fun to have disdane for the city. For example, in 1999 the city got hit with a snow storm. The 25 cm of snow would have been considered normal for almost anywhere else in Canada, but here? The mayor called in the army—the friggin' ARMY!—'cause the city couldn’t get it together. This city will never live that down! Maybe it’s some kind of subconscious fear and bitterness that stems from the fact that so much of the country’s money lives here because it’s basically the business centre of Canada. Or, perhaps, it’s simply because, being raised a Montreal Canadiens hockey club fan, I just despised the city associated with our hated rivals. I wonder if all of any of you anti-Toronto types out there have ever examined the roots of your disdane. In any case, whatever the reason for these feelings, since moving here I’ve gained a new perspective and I want to share with you my new and more balanced opinion of the city – but not the hockey team!

First, what is Toronto? Toronto isn’t just one city. In 1996 Toronto and several of the surrounding municipalities (including Scarborogh, Etobicoke, North York, and East York) amalgamated to form the MEGA CITY of Toronto as a way of reducing overlapping services and cut costs. Which, though it caused a bit of a furor at the time, was probably a good idea. Mega Toronto is part of the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) which is made up of 25 municipalities. According to Wikipedia, the GTA is the 7th largest metropolitan area in North America; it covers 7,100 square kilometers and has a population of over 5.7 million people.

In short? Toronto is big.

Here lies Toronto’s major problem. The GTA is one of the more striking examples of what happens when urban sprawl goes wrong. In the post World War II years, as Toronto proper continued to grow in importance, obviously the number of workers needed grew too. And so began the build up of the adjacent municipalities which would become the bedroom communities housing these workers, now commuters. This sprawl created the nightmare of suburbia across North America which would go on to provide a seemingly endless source of teenage angst and frustration, a major theme in popular music from the 1970s right up to now. Sure, there were lots of nice houses on nice streets with nice strip malls close by, but there was/is very little in the way of real "community."

Why? As asserted by people like Jane Jacobs and the makers of End of Suburbia, people didn’t want to build the existing urban corps more densely so they just moved out of it; they all wanted to have the illusion of life in the country without coming to terms with the reality that they lived a city life. This still holds true today.

This attitude helped delay the renewal of many urban communities and spaces because such issues weren’t in the interests of tax payers earning income from the city and taking it out to suburbia. Evidence of this dysfunction is still evident in crusades for more low income housing and preservation of important green spaces.

Other casualties of Toronto’s sprawl are the small towns and amazingly fertile farm lands which surrounded the city. They are perpetually in the shadow of the mega city.

So, sprawl and all the things that are associated with it (destruction of farm land and green space, traffic congestion, air pollution, and material waste) is the bad thing about Toronto. There is much that needs to be addressed in the city, however I think that it’s ironic while sprawl has ruined much of the periphery, it has left intact many of the neighbourhoods that make up the corps of the city itself (the parts that aren’t yet built up, but maybe should be, and maybe soon will be). Many of these neighbourhoods seem to have a very distinct culture and sense of community. I mean, there are the typical problems of theft (my neighbourhood apparently has the highest rate of bike theft in Canada), drugs, poverty, and homelessness. And Toronto’s troubles with its trash have been widely talked about. Yet the people here seem to be attentive. People I pass on the street meet my eyes and smile of their own volition, and it's not because I’m falling over my feet. There is a rich cultural mix to the demographics of the city. Many of the old regal houses have been converted to apartments and are well maintained. The residential streets have big trees- very big, old, shady trees. There are parks. There are services close by. There is decent public transit: buses, subway trains, trains, and STREET CARS (I will reserve my complaints about the cost of transit for another time). They have wet bins to sort out organic waste material. They only collect garbage once every two weeks; yet, they collect organic waste every week. In my neighborhood (Little Italy) and the Annex people have window boxes and flower gardens, and in their back yards they have vegetable gardens growing. There are bike lanes and many people commute on them on bikes of all varieties, from the old, creaking, rusted out bike to the swankiest duded up race bike. OH! And there are girls, lots of girls, on bikes looking very dignified like empresses on Arabian horses. There is every kind of food that you could possibly want to eat at little restaurants close to you. There are little corner stores close by too, as well as shops like bakers, butchers, laundromats, dry cleaners, and tailors. And, there is easy access to a multitude of museums, cinemas, galleries, theatres, and venues for live music.

In the end, I guess it depends on what you are looking for in a place to live. And I suppose that's how my perspective on Toronto has changed: I now understand and accept that most every city, town, or place to live has its pros and cons. For my part, I’ve always been a small town boy. And coming from the life I was living while working with Dan on the road and being in more remote areas, I guess I was expecting to find the transition to life in Toronto more difficult. Rather, it’s been surprising how much I like living in Toronto. I mean, I'm certainly still in the honeymoon phase of my relationship with the city: all starry-eyed and overwhelmed by my new environment. But, I expected to be pining for the road and for the experiences that the road will be continuing to unfold to Dan. Well, I am, but not as intensely as I thought I would. Yet, I'm interested by my new surroundings and whether there is real substance to life in Toronto after all, or if it is just a beautiful window dressing for a lie. I’m interested to think about how, what is basically a city state, is going to evolve and whether it is going to provide an example not just for other Canadian cities, but Canadian communities and thereby world communities who aspire to move out of twentieth century urbanism. Or rather, if it is going to remain a place associated with waste, egocentrism, and money grubbing.

Stay tuned. I’m back online.

Hey, I'm still here, though I'm sure I'm nearly forgotten.
I've got a blog all ready to go, but my computer has been giving me a hard time (left over problems from the beginning of the trip).
So, hold tight people.

Welcome back to the REAL world.
You can’t live like that, c’mon get REAL!
You’re going to have to get a REAL job now.

REALLY?

What is this real world that everybody evokes when they talk to someone who is doing something different from them? Caught between life as drifter-for-hire/ bum and a 9-5 grinder, I really wish I clearly understood because maybe then I’d be able to make a concrete decision about a new direction.

I’ve heard these sayings in the context of both friendly pep talks and serious, stare-you-right-in-the-eyes, guidance-councilor-to-the-messed-up-youth chats. The tone varies between I’m-on-the-right-path-and-you’re-not condescension, you’ll-learn-someday bemusement, or simple you’re-screwed-you-poor-bastard sympathy. Though, not everyone is like this - some actually listen and advise with sincerity.

There is no doubt that since returning I’m in a culture shock-induced limbo that I didn’t expect: a simultaneous acknowledgement of the way things are in the “real world” (not to say that I ever left it) and a refusal/inability to choose how to proceed in that model. Do I pursue interests or do I focus on making money? Do I lay a foundation of understanding in something that I have barely any interest in, just to secure future opportunities, or do I make a stab at doing something meaningful to me?

The three-plus months that I spent on the road with Dan provided me with the luxury of a constantly varying array of stimulae that I had no hand in choosing; they were just a set of circumstances to be dealt with. We need gear? Let’s round up some sponsors. We need to find an Internet connection? Let’s ask that person. The difference between that life and my life now, is that there was a purpose to that method, and now my life seems to have no clear purpose.

Let me give you a metaphor for how I feel: it’s like drowning in a sea of life preservers of all sorts (survival suits, life-saver rings, those old puffy orange vests that my dad used to have on his boat filled with some kind of foam that probably causes cancer, life jackets, etc). All around me are these things that can save me; they represent my interests, aptitudes, and skills. The fatal problem is I don’t know which one to choose.

Dumbfounded, the people on the coastguard boat (my family and friends) tear at their hair and say just pick one! ANY one!

But will just any one do? Glug! Splutter! Glug! Too late.

At the funeral, people quietly file by. They look at my absurd mannequin-like make-up job provided by the discount mortician. Someone asks, “How did he die?” “Drowned in his opportunities is what I heard,” answers someone else. Heads shake all around. What a shame.

What an idiot!

Just pick one.

So what does this have to do with SFD or what it’s like being back to point “A” of the SFD project?(Am I back to point “A”? If you return to where you started, is it the same place you left from? Are you the same as you were when you left it?) Well, the strange thing is that although the time that I spent on the SFD project was such a monumental experience and wasn't so long ago, it now seems so far from me; it’s further in time and space, than I am physically from Dan and the van.

I'm worried that I'm withdrawling into my own egotistical concerns, closing the doors of understanding that I opened on the journey, and leaving the path of catharsis and revelation behind because it's too hard. Perhaps this is an old habit, not just fo me but most humans. In our time, it takes conviction and discipline to not focus on the self.

Still, I’m trying hard to not lose the lessons I learned while working with/for Dan. I’m trying to remember what I learned about filmmaking, photography, art, instinct, and nature. I’m trying to absorb the examples of all the people I encountered in big cities and small towns, living their lives and making a positive contribution to the world. I’m trying to retain the awe I had for those people, because what they were doing seemed to come to them so naturally. I’m trying to remember all the isolated and unrelated insightful things different people said that revealed yet another part of the big picture to me. Finally, I’m trying to roll all those things up into a soft lullaby cooed to comfort an infant or into the mantra of a wise monk. But, like I said, all that’s a hard to do.

Nevertheless, if I can hold up one lesson to remember from SFD, if I can assert one clichéd goal for us all to achieve, it is this: our (humanity’s) place in nature has as much to do with being balanced and at peace within ourselves, as within our environment.

Success could be a lifelong process, but I know Dan is out there working towards it and I’m back to wherever I am and doing my best.

Searching for Dragons is a project about finding solitude and a vision or glimpse of what the present means and what the future holds fo North Americans (as a microcosm of humanity).

The transition from the laid-back Canadian North to the fast-paced megalopolis of Toronto provided the most pronounced smack of culture shock that I have ever experienced.

What were the things that blew my hair back at first?

1) Numbers: The sheer volume and diversity of people in the airports of Vancouver and Toronto. Before my eyes, the herds of our kind roaming the concourses, escalators, conveyor belts, and watering holes of the human landscape. It was a both a fantastic and a frightening spectical.

2) Smells: All the crazy artificial and man-made smells - that were not necessarily bad, but not good either - assulted my olfactory senses through my nostrils. All the colognes and perfumes, the carpets and paints, and the variety of foods provided a stark contrast to the scents that you find in a small city like Whitehorse. That's not to mention scents like the summer sun warming the foliage of a mountain side in Kluane National Park or the damp mustiness of spring the moss and muskeg on the tundra floor.

3) Air Quality: Flying into Toronto in the late evening, there was the usual haze that hangs over almost any city in the dog-days of summer. What suprised me was that as the plane entered Toronto's air space, my sinuses almost immediately clogged up and I got a clump of phlegm in my throat (which I still have as I write this outside Montreal). As you may know, the body produces mucus to trap various kinds of airborn toxins before they enter the corps of the body. Long story short: the air in Toronto is not so good.

4) Motor Vehicles: Did you know that Tornoto has a shit load of cars and trucks in it?! Crazy. Enough said.

5) Gas: Gas in the south is pretty cheap compared to up north - as much as 20 or 30 cents cheaper. And, though I might have come at a particularly volitile time, the first gas station that I pulled into at 11pm, had a pretty big line up of cars - scrambling for a low cost fill-up. Never saw a gas price war or line up at the pumps in the north.

6) Things to do about town: Open up a paper in Toronto and there is a LOT going on. It really was amazing to just look at all the plays, bands, art shows, restaurants available to residents of the city.

7) The Eyes: I don't know if it's fear or shiness, but people don't meet your eyes in the big city, or at least, very few. If you catch someones eye, they almost immediately look away, or give a bit of a menacing look to make you shift your gaze. Can't look someone in they eye? Why? Somethin' to hide?

8) Stuff: there is so much STUFF in the city. Store shelves chalked full of whatever you could ever want or need - and a lot of things that you would think people couldn't ever possibly want or need, but they still do.

As I write this list, it strikes me how UNimpressive the items are; but, each was something that at some point gave me pause or made me gawk. Though, I've saved the most shocking thing for last: it only took me about two days to adjust to the differences. I hope that's a good thing.