Ahh, Canadian Thanksgiving, too polite to compete with American Thanksgiving, too cold to be in November, and with much smaller food portion size.
It is hard to be thankful 20 months into the pandemic, wondering “Why are we still here?” and “We have the vaccine, now what?” Humanity is collectively failing on its own privilege (Because, turning away a life-saving vaccine for your “freedom” is, that is privilege. Because, sending billionaires and actors into space while the earth is burning and we are inside trying to protect each other from a deadly virus, that is the epitome of privilege).
It is hard to not be thankful, that on the 20th month of the pandemic, I am still healthy, I still have full-time work, and I have my family and my (few) friends.
It is just incredibly lonely, either way you feel. It is incredibly lonely to not be able to share that with anyone when others are so quick to point out that “Alberta is not that bad. Everywhere is the same” or “Don’ think too much. You are so lucky”. It’s incredibly lonely to not have someone to listen.
I grieved my time here in Calgary. I said my goodbyes. It wasn’t easy. And now with the pandemic, and with the delays in moving out east, and potentially we might not move at all, I am quietly grieving that change (the unchanged), and re-acquainting myself with the love for Calgary (and gurl, the people here sure are not making it easy for me).
It is hard to realize that your partner never really wanted to move with you in the first place. He was comfortable with the idea, but never the reality of it. He wanted to be supportive, but every time he had a chance he wanted me to stay. To him, this place is home. To me, he is home. And that has to be enough.
And so, I am thankful for him. I am thankful for my health, and the science of vaccines. I am thankful for my work, and my ability to continuously lead an amazing team through technology challenges. I am thankful for my privileges, as a cis male who benefits from a system that favors cis men in tech.
I am thankful for my anxiety and my grief because they keep me grounded and empathetic in the sufferings of others. I am thankful for my Buddhist roots and my Zen practice, as it allows me to sit alone, no matter how uncomfortable it might feel and how lonely it might get.
I am thankful to be alive and safe, in a world that is increasingly uncertain and restless.
Happy Thanksgiving
Pace Fine Arts 