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Monday, September 22, 2014


This morning I was prepared to write about climate change. There were protest marches across the globe yesterday to focus attention on the issue as the UN is set to meet in New York this week and climate change on the agenda.

I love a good rally but there were none scheduled close to where I live; the nearest was 1 1/2 hours away and I could not bear the hypocrisy of driving that far to protest the fossil fuel economy.

The course I am currently in, Health and the Environment, deals a lot with climate change and the effect it will have on us all-- from increased adverse weather events to the spread of disease. I would love to use less petroleum based energy but right now the best green technology is out of my economic reach.

So instead of driving to a rally in Cape Breton or Halifax I went to my local beach and picked garbage from the shoreline. It's a little thing, and next week there will be just as much, but it is the least I can do at the moment.

This and more is what I planned to write about but then I got sidetracked by Facebook. And not by the thousand useless, inane updates: post if you love your mother, think cousins are the best or believe it's always wine-o'clock somewhere. I was distracted by the great suffering of a little girl. A little girl whose mom was a childhood friend of mine. Reading her post about how her eldest daughter has been suffering these past months and how, at this moment, she is in hospital, struggling with an unknown illness, is so heart wrenching. I, and everyone else except her medical team, are helpless.

This morning I thought about sharing her most recent post which detailed the horrible night they had just been through-- but then I didn't really know why I wanted to share that update. I guess I wanted to share it because a shared pain is easier to survive than a hidden one. I guess I wanted people to know why I was distracted today. I guess I wanted to share it just in case the energy of our thoughts could help this child and her family.

There's nothing else I can write at the moment. I can't think beyond the word hope. That's what I will be doing today.

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