We are not alone in this forest of ever changing hues and varied depths of understanding. Images that challenge us sweep in on gentle breezes or forceful gusts, but the strength we absorb from others keeps us grounded. Reach up from the darkness, and be cradled in the branches of the forest’s light.
Back to the Artwork pageWe are not alone in this forest of ever changing hues and varied depths of understanding. Images that challenge us sweep in on gentle breezes or forceful gusts, but the strength we absorb from others keeps us grounded. Reach up from the darkness, and be cradled in the branches of the forest’s light.
I find my rest in silent choices. Breathe in your surroundings, as your work is now done. Listen to the stillness, and accept the gifts of canoe point.
A man weaves tales of this land through poetry and song. Senses are awakened by images of past glory, as well as those of immeasurable pain. Challenges are whispered, to all who will listen, from frail limbs and foreboding eyes. Chanie Wenjack’s secret path jolts us into uncomfortable realizations of historical disconnects, and untold misery on the tip of a Raven’s wing. Pearls of wisdom, spoken by a sister, seek a different world through truth and reconciliation. We are all connected to someone, as Gord is to Chanie. Follow the examples of those who came before us, and seek the strength to facilitate change. Let us dance for healing under the moonlight on ashes of love. All is possible with the promise and power of courage.
The Great Canadian Shield not only anchors us to the original inhabitants of this vast country, but it acts as the geological glue that binds all of Canada together. We stand as one on a firm foundation, following the example of the Maple, Pine, Birch, and Sumac, as we celebrate our diversity in varied colours, shapes, strengths, and purpose. Be diligent and shield our natural heritage and traditions from all who claim to make sound environmental decisions on our behalf. Speak out with your heart. Speak out with your soul. Listen to the ancient voices.
I hear the world differently than you. Visual cues present themselves, and guide me in ways unknown to most. I hear rustling leaves through oscillating shimmer, as they dance to an East wind’s command. The splash of a Northern Pike delights me, as ripples radiate then fade to still waters. A loon’s crimson eyes rise and fall in royal splendour, as its lonely call brushes my soul. Night falls as ashen shadows and azure skies cloak reflective silence. All who bear witness unite in my world. I am not alone in the presence of the night birch.
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