The Journey Begins

Never have I felt more need to find hope than now, when the world is being assaulted on every level by greed, corruption, ignorance, intolerance, shallowness, mindless over-consumption, and indifference. There has been a greater outpouring of grief on the tenth anniversary of Princess Diana's death than for all the millions of innocent lives that have been lost during the U.S. occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan, or for the plight of indigenous people around the world who are losing their homes and way of life through climate change. News coverage for such notables as Paris Hilton and Michael Vicks trumps serious news that affects us all. When I am not filled with outrage, I am overwhelmed with a deep sadness and despair. It is not how I want to live the rest of my life, thinking there is no hope. So I begin this journey across Canada and the United States, looking for points of light in the dark tunnel of today's doom and gloom, looking for the small acts of human kindness, the courage of individuals to stand up to governmental and corporate oppression, communities that are finding better ways to provide jobs and a quality of life for all its citizenry - sustainability, justice, non-violence, and stewardship. I am looking for the promise of something better. I am looking for a reason to hope that when I die there will still be a future for this beautiful home called Earth.

When I talk of looking for hope, I don't know what that will be, but I know what it will feel like. I know because I felt it while attending a crest pole raising at the First Nations village of Kitselas (near Terrace, B.C.) in August. I watched a community come together, young and old alike, to celebrate the first pole raising in 140 years. Their joy and cultural pride and sense of accomplishment could be felt by all who participated in the event. When so many of the native villages in northern B.C. are dealing with drugs, alcohol, suicide, unemployment, and domestic violence, this successful project by the Kitselas community was cause for celebration. The elders spoke, the carvers and clans were honored, everyone helped to carry and raise the beaver and bear poles into place, there was dancing, laughter, and smiles everywhere. Even a Royal Canadian Mountie in full dress uniform joined in the butterfly dance. The threatening clouds parted to reveal sunshine as the celebration concluded with a salmon barbecue. It was a day when hope warmed my heart, bursting through the frozen ground like spring's first blossom. That is what hope feels like, and it is what I am looking for as we journey across the byways of North America in the next few months.

P.L. Morningstar