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Hecate’s Wisdom

Dr. Carl Jung’s concept of archetypes has always intrigued me, and it’s helped me a lot over the

years to consider which archetypes I am possibly embodying, struggling with, or neglecting to

pay attention to now! Especially fascinating to me has been the archetype of Hecate, the

“goddess of intuitive and psychic wisdom” according to Jean Shinoda Bolen, MD., a Jungian

analyst who’s written extensively on this topic.

Hecate is the one who stands at the crossroads, at the fork in the road between past, present &

future. There she meets people, and intuits where they’ve come from. She knows what choices

they’re now presented with, about which path to take going forward. Hecate is the one at the

threshold of major life transitions. So, for example, her archetype presents itself in the roles of

death doula, midwife, hospice worker.

We all have times when we hang onto old patterns, ways of thinking & acting that are no longer

working all that well for us. I find myself there when I’m holding onto old grudges, petty

resentments that I have to keep feeding to keep alive, arrrgh, negative thinking that blocks

perspective, to name a few. We are constantly evolving and being given opportunities to grow

and expand. Or to stay in our old mindset, even though there’s a disquiet about it. Something

is urging us, something wants expression or change.

This can be a very unsettling energy which we may try to push down and on the surface, we

may succeed in doing so. A life too calm, too settled and too predictable though, can also be a

life that is stuck, and too fearful to move out of that stuckness. I remember a time when I felt

this stuckness as “mud around my heart”. I was very lucky to be able to receive the guidance of

a gifted therapist, Marie Jose Dhaese; she helped me uncover what that mud was about, to

then loosen it up and bring the cleansing waters of insight to wash it away. We are always a

work in progress though, never completed, hard as our growth can be. No wonder they call it

“growing pains”.

It goes without saying that life-threatening illness or crisis can jolt us out of our comfort zone,

throwing us up close against our mortality. Many meet Hecate on those particular roads, in the

liminal time of twilight, and find more meaning in their lives by choosing the path of a wideawake

life, replete with its griefs, its sorrows and its joys. Hecate helps us let go of what is ready

to die: outworn attitudes and outgrown roles.

Hecate is also the goddess of the waning or dark moon – the Crone. Hesiod (in Theogeny,

approximately 700 BCE) said that Hecate means: “She who has power far off”; in other words,

psychic ability or clairvoyance. We old people don’t just become Crones or Elders – we must

earn that privilege by coming to terms with our own issues, grappling with what is holding us

back. We have too many blind spots to do all this work on our own, but the good news is that

we don’t have to! Teachers or guides to help us explore our depths are everywhere. These

teachers help us connect to our purpose, which may change over time. Exploring our depths

helps us connect to our grief and suffering and to that of others. It helps us be more fully

human. We can do this work by listening closely and learning from the many sources of wisdom

in the world, be they Mother Nature, a spiritual guide, insightful thought-partner, or other

mentor. I’ve found that when I am ready, teachers come, and they often come from

unexpected places. If we’re seeking, we usually know when they’ve arrived in our lives.

Bolen calls the part of us that knows and sees without the blinders on “the Witness”. Hecate is

also the Witness, with us at every juncture, there for the calling. She seeks and sees the Truth

of our existence, capital T. We may have distorted ideas or repressed material just too painful

to let into our consciousness, but Hecate is there when we are ready and humble enough to ask

for guidance. This is inner work that nourishes our souls. Like walking/being in the woods or at

the ocean, and how that feeds our whole being. When we step outside of our daily patterns

and take a dive into our psyches and look around, we emerge more whole and the world

becomes more holy. We may not have the answers but we’re seeing and holding the

complexity and we are then able to thrive in “full catastrophe living” (Jon Kabat-Zinn).

To me, it’s about listening to our inner helper, always there for us. If we are able to do so, we

can become more fully integrated and real. That makes us lighter, and truly, isn’t this a time

when we need to access our inner light?

Thanks to Jean Shinoda Bolen, Thomas Moore, James Hillman, Marion Woodman and Marlene

Schiwy, all Jungian scholars, for their wise teachings, many of which are reflected in this piece.

Middle Easterners Have Words For The Western Press Who’ve Been Lying About Them

Oct 21st, 2023 

Notes From The Edge Of The Narrative Matrix

Hundreds of US congressional staffers are passing around a letter urging their bosses to call for a ceasefire, there’s a silent mutiny brewing in the State Department over the Biden administration’s Gaza actions, mainstream reporters have been refusing to parrot Israel narratives, and the streets are full of pro-Palestine demonstrators.

This is different. What we are seeing right now is a deviation from the usual script.

The western press have been finding themselves in the uncomfortable position of having to do reporting alongside the middle easterners they’ve been lying about for generations, and discovering that a lot of those middle easterners speak English and have a few things to say.

Check out this clip of Egyptian podcaster Rahma Zein laying into CNN’s Clarissa Ward at a protest at the Rafah Crossing border gates:

https://youtu.be/EJ_Upwnjl9w

And this clip of a Palestinian man telling off CNN’s Sara Sidner — who helped circulate the infamous “40 decapitated babies” psyop — saying “You are genocide supporters! You are not welcome here! Genocide supporters! Fuck CNN! Fuck CNN!”:

https://youtu.be/69OdX6A7urI

An urgently needed message and a long overdue confrontation.

If Israel didn’t bomb that hospital then why did it doctor up a fraudulent audio clip pretending to show Hamas fighters saying Israel didn’t bomb the hospital?

 The only way to reconcile this fact with a belief in Israel’s innocence is rigorous psychological compartmentalization.

A lot of the distortion around this current crisis arises from confusion between peace and the baseline status quo. Because Israel had been trucking along at the same status quo for so long, people assume there was a state of peace when Hamas attacked it, which was why the western political/media class were able to frame it as an “unprovoked” attack. But in reality the status quo in Israel has been one of continually escalating violence, tyranny and abuse for generations, not one of peace.

The trouble with abusive dynamics that have been going on for a long time is that after a while those who aren’t directly affected by the abuse tend to get used to that way of being and start thinking of it as normal. So when there’s pushback against that abusive status quo, it looks to them like it came completely out of nowhere at the hands of an unprovoked aggressor.

Stand on someone’s face for long enough and one day it will surprise you if he eventually bites your foot. You might even feel like you were the victim, because that’s just what you’d gotten used to.

And the imperial media of course do everything they can to exacerbate public confusion about this crucial distinction. The Hamas attack is being constantly framed as an unprovoked act of aggression by evil men who wanted to do evil things to Jews, solely because they are evil and hate Jews. History began on October 7, and all the events from 1948 onward never happened.

Empire propagandists do this constantly by the way, wherever it suits the information interests of the empire. After 9/11 it was “they hate us for our freedom” and all the US aggressions in the middle east which provoked Al Qaeda were swept under the carpet. When Russia invaded Ukraine the well-documented NATO provocations and violence in the Donbass which gave rise to it were written out of the history books, and history began on February 24, 2022. If China ever reacts to the US military surrounding it with war machinery and its aggressive provocations in Taiwan, that will be framed as a completely unprovoked attack which came completely out of nowhere as well.

Circumstances aren’t peaceful just because we are used to them. Just because you are able to go about your daily routine without major disruption doesn’t mean someone isn’t being horrifically abused by the status quo which makes your way of life possible. Peace doesn’t look like everyone complying with the status quo regardless of its abusiveness, it looks like the absence of abuse.

 

My work is entirely reader-supported, so if you enjoyed this piece here are some options where you can toss some money into my tip jar if you want to. Go here to buy paperback editions of my writings from month to month. All my work is free to bootleg and use in any way, shape or form; republish it, translate it, use it on merchandise; whatever you want. The best way to make sure you see the stuff I publish is to subscribe to the mailing list on Substack, which will get you an email notification for everything I publish. All works co-authored with my husband Tim Foley.

 

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Shucking Oysters: Swearing is Good

Shucking Oysters: F Bombs

By Alex Allen 

Both my parents swore a lot when I grew up. In fact, my mother was more prolific than my father. This can be explained by the fact that my mother was a bit of a klutz (as I). She couldn’t open the kitchen cabinet without hitting her head. Sh*t! Trip on the carpet and drop something. Sh*t! I would hear this expletive often as my mother carried on her day. “Damn” was my father’s favourite and equally enjoyed by my mum too. My father liked to slam doors in anger as well. To say that I came from a family of emoters is putting it mildly. Naturally, swearing is one of my family heirlooms, and according to science it’s A-OK.

I swear a lot driving on the highway. It’s my primal scream therapy time. I don’t know what it is, but I seem to be flypaper to irritating, oblivious drivers. The one’s doing 60-70K in 80k zone. F*ck. The incessant braker. F*ck. The truck with trailer that pulls dangerously in front of me even though there is no one behind me for miles. Jesus. Research has proven that swearing is good for me, but not for my partner apparently. She thinks it’s childish. I’ll show her.

Used appropriately and responsibly, it turns out that my sporadic outbursts are a good way to process “the chaos of being human in a world where much isn’t under our control.” That’s it. It’s things I have no control over that get to me. “Swearing can have a truly liberating effect when we’re feeling bottled up with frustration. Saying the F-word, or similar, can have an immediate calming impact on the difficult emotions we might be experiencing,” wrote Dr. Raffaello Antonino, psychologist and clinical director and founder of Therapy Central.

A 2015 study found that well-educated people were better at coming up with curse words than those who were less verbally fluent. Participants were asked to list as many words that start with F, A or S in one minute. Another minute was devoted to coming up with curse words that start with those three letters. The study found those who came up with the most F, A and S words also produced the most swear words. People that are good at language are good at generating a swearing vocabulary.

A series of studies published in 2017 found a positive link between profanity and honesty. People who swore lied less, and had higher levels of integrity overall. While a higher rate of profanity use was associated with more honesty, the study cautioned that “the findings should not be interpreted to mean that the more a person uses profanity, the less likely he or she would engage in more serious unethical or immoral behaviours.” 

Swearing is good for your endurance. People on bikes who swore while pedaling against resistance had more power and strength than people who used “neutral” words, studies have shown. Research also found that people who cursed while squeezing a vice were able to squeeze harder and longer. 

Another study in 2020 found people who swore when their hand was put in a bucket of ice-cold water lasted 40 seconds longer. The S-word and F-word were used by many of the subjects to good effect. “[S]wearing helps you cope with pain,” said Dr. Richard Stephens, Psychobiology Research Laboratory, Keele University in England. “Swearing is drug-free, calorie-free, cost-free, and side effects-free, so why not try it?” he added.

Stephens says he has some as-yet unpublished research to suggest that the intensity of the swear word matters too. If you hit your finger with a hammer, you may well feel less pain if you yell “Sh*t” instead of “Shoot.” “It does seem to be that the stronger the swear word, the more effect it has.” Like some things Stephens warns, moderation is key. “We found that the people who swear the most in everyday life got the least benefit from swearing,” he said. “So, you know, don’t overdo it.”

According to Emma Byrne, author of Swearing Is Good for You, profanities are a fundamental part of our language, performing a vital role in our development. Citing several not always entirely relevant scientific studies, she makes the case that taboo words act as a kind of pressure valve, allowing us to let off steam rather than, say, punch somebody’s brains out. 

Byrne’s contention is that without swearing we would have to rely on biting and gouging and throwing sh*t. Swearing allows us to express our emotions symbolically. As Byrne wrote, “Swearing is like mustard; a great ingredient but a lousy meal. We need that part of our language to keep its potency, its slightly risky nature, otherwise it wouldn’t be swearing.”

Happy Samhuinn or Halloween to the Uninitiated

This is my daughter’s favourite holiday.  She loves dressing up and has been known to wear different costumes to different events on the same day.  I lack her gifts at making costumes.  

Indeed, my celebration of Samhuinn is not so party-centric as most peoples’ but I enjoy it in my own way just as much.  It is a pity that children nowadays do not have the same trick or treating opportunities that I had as a young child.  Some ladies would make trays of toffee apples to give out and that was the best and most sought-after treat going.  Other ladies made us popcorn balls, rice-crispy cakes and cookies.  We collected pillowcases full of candy swag.  

That did not generate enough commerce so the press started publishing stories of poisoned candies being handed out.  The truth was, some children were poisoned at Halloween but it was always deliberate poisoning by their relatives.  There is a lovely saying in the Balkans that the neighbours may throw stones at you but only your own family kills you.  

Stories were circulated of toffee apples with razor blades inserted in them so that treat went away forever.  People began to buy commercially-produced candy which was far more expensive and not nearly as nice.  Trick or treating seems to have gone the way of the dodo here on Denman and I think that is a shame.  I hope people with children will consider making some of the old Halloween favourites for their children and young friends.  

For Druids, and most other religious people, Samhuinn is a serious time to pray to the ancestors as the veil between the worlds is thin at this time.  In fact, time stops completely for a few days and the spirits can visit the Earth to see friends and family.  Some people like to leave out the favourite food for the spirits they hope to attract and a comb, bowl of water and mirror so the spirits can freshen up after their long journey back to Earth.  It is helpful to make a small altar with candles and photos of the beloved lost ones you hope to attract to your house.  Seeing their photo reminds them of happy times and lets them know they have found receptive family members.  

Death is seen by Druids as a transformation, rather than an ending.  Evergreen branches, particularly cedar, the tree of life, are the chief symbol of this festival.  To be born in the afterlife, you have to die here.  To come to the Earth, you have to die in the afterlife.  Nothing lasts forever, not even death.  

The land dies every year at this time, only to be reborn in the glorious exuberance of spring greens and spring flowers.  The fields go brown as the grass bleaches out and all nature slows down with only the hardiest animals and birds left but we all know that spring will return, carried under the wings of the returning birds.  Life is just the same.  We die and go away for a while and then we return.  

With that in mind, we may all want to consider how we can leave the Living Earth better for our stay here as we will be coming back to a world that is more despoiled and polluted every year.  People think they don’t have to worry about what the world will be like in three hundred years but I think that is exactly what they should be worried about.  

So, this year, I hope some of you will consider praying and meditating out of doors, after you have made your young friends a tray of toffee apples of course.  Speak aloud to your ancestors and departed friends and ask them for their counsel, their favour and their benevolence.  This year has turned quite tricky due to world politics taking a violent turn and I feel we need all the help we can get.  

Build a little bonfire and tell stories about departed family members and friends.   This is also a great time to tell ghost stories but they should only be about real ghosts and supernatural experiences that have happened to the teller.   Ghosts are not scary, at least not the ones I have met.  They are still the same people they were when we knew and loved them on the Earth.  Take some time to honour them.  They need our help as we need theirs. 

The veil between the worlds becomes thin, and the ancestors come close to us.  Their voices whisper in the autumn winds.  As we stand among the falling leaves and the grey and golden light, let us remember the past and its lessons, and gather a harvest of wisdom to bear us through the winter to the new spring to come.  

Phoenix Riting! – October 26th, 2023

Ah Hornby dances, how do I love you? We had another banger at the Hall Saturday night, called “A Whole Lotta Zep.” When I saw David Gogo show up as a fan of the band, wearing a band t-shirt, I had a feeling we were in for something special. And oh my yes we were. The first thing I did, however and I wasn’t the only one, was rush to the restroom to crumple toilet paper into my ears. Please, dear bands, if you must play so loudly (and they all seem to insist on it), it would be excellent of you to provide a basket of earplugs at the door. Still, the TP (mostly) did the job and I boogied myself into exhaustion to some seriously excellent rock ‘n roll.

 

For this Zeppelin fan, it was brilliant. As a teenager, I loved that band. I played the two albums I owned, ‘Led Zeppelin IV’ and ‘Houses of the Holy’ over and over again. Sadly, I don’t have the same bottomless energy I used to have; I powered out before the show was over. Having left it all on the dancefloor, I dragged myself home in a stupor of exhaustion and bliss.

Note: if I act or talk like a crazy person on such occasions, please forgive me. I do get weird on dancing. I plant myself right up front because there’s the most space and also it’s where the band is. There I go unapologetically mad. I do this to get sane and to heal my body and soul. It may look weird but I recommend it! It’s a perfect healing modality, done right. And the music was so good. The band wailed and pounded and drummed up a storm of epic proportions and I lost myself in it.

 

There is more to come, Hornby! David Gogo told me he and his band will be playing our Hall on November 11. All I can say to that is, “Whee!” In addition–I have heard that there will be a house concert with The Bills somewhere on the island, sometime soon. It will be advertised, and when it is, I imagine tickets will sell out. House concerts are lovely and intimate and what a fabulous opportunity that will be. I can’t wait. Good music makes fall and winter less dark and dreary. We are so lucky here! I am still floating on a soft bed of endorphins, oh yes.

 

Fall is the season of classes and regular activities here on the island. One of my favourite activities are the classes located at New Horizons or through Zoom, sponsored by New Horizons. In Cornelia Hoogland’s Creative Writing group, we were recently assigned a poem called “Where I’m From.” I thought I’d share my offering with you all here now, so you can get to know me a little better. I hope you enjoy it! Please also enjoy this glorious autumn and the abundant explosion of mushrooms we are currently blessed with.

 

Where I’m From

 

I am from paradox, bare walls and plywood boxes

I am from discarded possessions pared to fit one pickup

I am from shotguns picking off packrats in the next shack we never moved into

I am from one shining star, packed precious in tissue

I am from bears in the yard, from cold dishwater and Coleman lanterns

I am from rough men, whisker rubs that pink my skin, shoulder rides, alcohol, secrets and sweat

I am from a mother who needed a son to give meaning to maternity

I am from family reunions, murmurations of cousins, ecstatic surrender to like kind, belonging for a time

I am from moosemeat and huckleberry pie, steak and pancakes for breakfast

I am from canned peas and powdered milk, and dont leave the table until youre done

I am from wild woods wanderings alone, red dirt scraped raw 

I am from blackflies swarming up nostrils and scabbing necks

I am from whisky nights by lantern light, songs and stories, my own voice singing, music played in the dark without a spark

I am from pioneers who fled to the west, then north, then west again

I am from brown people who belonged where they stood, who were good to me and my family, who became my relations

I am from a culture I never knew but which shaped my worldview

I am from camping all summer, from lakes accessed only on foot

I am from winter, huddled and hiding, go out and play you’re driving me crazy

I am from slow wanderings on frozen creeks, icy clefts and caverns more mysterious than fantasy

I am from dreams seamlessly blended into waking, speaking with faeries, visiting alien starships, breathing under the sea 

I am from books, fantastical worlds with pioneer children like me, girl detectives and cowboys, wicked Queens, talking animals and ever darker themes 

I am from sunday school because everyone goes, 

and there is no god, and nobody knows

 

That’s what I think! What do you think? Email me at phoenixonhornby@gmail.com

Halloween

Halloween

by Mr. Unknown

 

Pick out your costumes

Watch a movie that gives you a scare

Collect candy from neighbors

Visit the graveyard if you dare

Halloween is the time’

That brings us

 together

To travel down streets

No matter the weather

Brought from Celtic culture

To banish bad spirits

While dancing around flame

Be gone to all evil that’s near us

Carve bright, orange pumpkins

Leave them by a doorstep

For us to know

That your house is participating

Let the games begin

candy for all

For all the children

Dress as you choose

Ignite a pumpkin for light

Let us share spooky memories

On a crisp fall night

Deep Fried Onion Ring

Fighting Words, Part 2 – Team TIG

Fighting Words Part 2 by Team TIG

In last week’s The Islands Grapevine (TIG), we published a denouncement of the false claims made by Bronwyn Schuster, publicly slandering TIG as having published transphobic hate-speech, following their email to TIG that was an attempt at influence peddling using public funds. While other Denman public servants have publicly endorsed Schuster’s admitted misuse of their position, the seeds of the malice directed at TIG had already been planted. From Bronwyn Schuster’s threatening email:(July 19/23)

“I understand you have been holding an editorial policy of no curation”. 

“I have found it difficult to weed through article after letter of COVID misinformation.”

Ironically, both of these claims are misinformation. TIG publishes its editorial policy in each issue, and we spend time each week asking contributors for revisions. Ninety percent of all the public health information TIG published was from government sources, at the local, regional, and Provincial levels. Prior to the pandemic, TIG had not received any critique of its editorial policies.

The small fraction of dissenting content TIG published, has in some cases turned out to be correct, and in some cases the Public Health advisories turned out to be incorrect. TIG was one of the very few media spaces that did not censor ALL dissenting viewpoints. What is clear from Schuster’s claims, and the claims of other local public servants, is that they have now declared that dissent is impermissible, and will not be tolerated. This is the elephant in the room, and it is a dangerous and authoritarian ideology.

After TIG committed the “original sin” of publishing a few letters that held a dissenting view on the response to the pandemic, some of the privileged liberal class of our community have aligned themselves with censorship of dissent, and granted themselves the entitlement of attempting to cancel a local business and the extremely modest livelihoods it supports. They are publicly spreading slander and lies, including the false accusation of “promoting” bigotry, in order to justify their anti-democratic and censorious ideology. While these bullies never provide any evidence, they rely on the silence of those too afraid to speak up. From Aaron Muirhead, on Denman social media, in a moment of self serving opportunism:

“I for one am thankfull and think its about time that a ‘public official’ actually took responsibility and refused to use ‘public’ money to support a private for profit buisiness that as a matter of policy, regularly publishes clear falsehoods and promotes bigotry in the community… this seems to me a case of a responsible use of ‘public’ funds [sic]”. 

Muirhead made the above comments as part of his announcement of his rival publication. He could not cite any specific “falsehoods” or “bigotry”, but takes pleasure in the act of joining the mob slandering TIG. Some Board members of Denman non-profit organizations have joined the chorus of hateful comments directed at TIG and in support of directing publicly funded advertising dollars away from TIG to Aaron’s new publication. From Laura Busheikin’s Denman social media post:

“From what I’ve heard, [Schuster] let a business owner know that she (as an individual and as a contract employee responsible for advertising choices) would no longer be purchasing their product unless the business practices changed. This could be seen as a threat, but not in a criminal way. It could also be seen as a decent thing to do, as it gives the business owner a chance to consider making changes in response to customer feedback.[sic]” 

Let’s start with Busheikin’s words, “From what I’ve heard”, as it speaks to her reliance on hearsay, and an assumption that the accusations were true. In this case, the “customers” are each and every local resident, not the publicly funded employee. More from Busheikin:

“If I have responsibility for an advertising budget for a publicly funded activity, unless my contract or a terms of reference states otherwise, I would be within my rights to make decisions about that budget. And yes of course I have done this, and will continue to do this in my various community roles. That has included seeking out alternatives to the Grapevine when possible.” And further: “to talk to the staff person directly, and CERTAINLY NOT to repeatedly make inflammatory public statements about the contract employee on social media. (And omg why I am even weighing in on this????[sic]”.

This is an astounding admission of unethical behaviour, and an incredulous take on the issues at hand. Had Busheikin not relied on hearsay, she would have known that we DID reach out to Schuster privately, offered to publish their concerns, and received NO response from Schuster at all. TIG did NOT take these issues to social media, Schuster did, where THEY made “inflammatory public statements” about TIG. And why indeed is Busheikin weighing in on this on social media, after saying that social media wasn’t an appropriate forum for addressing these issues?

TIG has reached out to Busheikin privately on two occasions, and in a cruel irony, she has refused to discuss these matters or comment at all. Busheikin’s lofty declarations on Denman social media do not align with her own actions. She has joined a slanderous social media mob in attempting to cancel a local business, based on hearsay and provable lies, and admitting she has done the same thing with public advertising dollars relating to TIG, in her “various community roles.” TIG wants to know which publicly funded roles?  As a Local Trustee, this behaviour is a violation of the Islands Trust Standards of Conduct.

All of these bullies, dressed up in performative virtue suits, have lost any moral or ethical authority in managing a public service on Denman Island.

Sandwich Summit 2, Roadside Edition

CS# 05943451

Date: March 28, 2007

Another day of work and another day along the same stretch of highway. The monotony of this existence is beginning to root itself in my restless mind. But as always, there are moments that intercede the sameness of the routine. Moments that delineate one day from another. And it is these instants that propel me in my writing. 

As we were heading out this morning as always we hit the kitchen to pick up our coffee and lunch fixings. As C.O. Person sorted through the assembled fare his ire began to boil. Meat and cheese sandwiches once again! He posed the question to Paul, the cook, “Is there any butter or mayonnaise on them?” 

Paul rather smugly replied, “No.” 

The day was not getting off to a good start. 

Back at the crummy, Mr. Person unwrapped the cellophane to inspect the sandwiches himself. In a fit of blind rage, he stormed into the main building, sandwiches in hand, leaving us there. Minutes afterward, he reemerged from the building without the sandwiches and we were off. We were all cracking up in the back of the crummy as we sped off to work. Fred piped up, “he’s going to have a heart attack!” which only spurred us onward. Once at the work site, Mr. Person conveyed to us that he went above C.O. Wight’s head and plunked the unbuttered sandwiches, without mayo, down on the desk of some white shirt who’s name escapes me. If not for Person’s indignant insistence that the lunches need improvement, I doubt that we inmates would raise such a fuss. It is jail, after all. To have our C.O. invest such emotion about it could conceivably lead us to believe we have rights beyond the reality. Lunches certainly have gone downhill in my short tenure here and every C.O. that I’ve spoken to on this matter has told me that when they were in charge of Crew #2, the lunches were a comparatively lavish affair. But this is of little consolation to us these days. Repeated attempts to address the perceived shortcomings of our midday jailhouse meals seem to have butted up against a much more immutable force. BUREAUCRACY. Somewhere within the bowels of this multi-headed beast, our calls for attention to this matter get lost without prompting nary a burp of indigestion or the discomfort of heartburn. Where the same cannot be said of our lunches.

So anyways, as we reluctantly crept upon the lunch hour, who should arrive upon the scene but Mr. Wight. Tossing a last few alder branches on the pile I was stacking, I turned to heed Mr. Person’s call for lunch. As I approached the crummy Mr. Wight, all 6’2“ 260 lbs of him, appears around the side of the crummy and declares me ‘spokesman’ of the crew. It seemed that a lunchtime discussion about the lunches was in the offing. As Mr. Person was frying up potatoes and onions (staples he brought from home out of utter resignation at our plight), Mr. Wight and I chatted. The crew idly stood by. With the occasional inciteful remark from Mr. Person wafting over from in back of Wight’s imposing frame, I listened to the Senior Correction Officer’s ability to recite the formatted responses to my questions. No doubt revealing just how he rose to such an esteemed rank. He was unflappable. He was good. He was big! He explained to me how the diet we’re given is derived from the empirical knowledge of a dietician, and standardized. ‘X’ number of this, so many millilitres of that and so forth. He even went on to say that the reason there is no mayonnaise in the sandwiches is because of the potential for it to spoil in our cooler tote. Whilst waiting out the perilously long 5 hours from being spread to being consumed, it seems. The reason for no hot-dogs or hamburgers in our tote is due to the presumption that we might not cook them properly and get ill. Salmonella. From in behind me Fred pipes up, ”Salmonella? That sounds better than what we’ve been getting!“ The tone of our summit suddenly besieged by stifled laughter and outright guffaws, Mr. Wight informed us that we need to have a certified cook in order to perform such a tricky feat. A potential trump card was thrown out in the form of Person, himself. It turns out that he IS a certified cook, but I suspect this fact was seen more as an inconvenience to Mr. Wight’s stonewalling. I was beginning to see the futility of it all. If anything, Wight’s appearance, there on the side of the highway, was meant to placate us rather than relent and forge a revised, more appetizing menu. Having to let go the lunch I decided to take up the seemingly more benign issue of our lack of coffee. His reaction was to again swaddle himself in the standardized response to any affront to the standardized wisdom of what I can only assume is one seriously gaunt dietician. We’re apparently allotted but a mere 8 oz cup of black gold per head! 

Now, a person’s skin is their largest organ. Prone to all sorts of stimuli. Upon hearing Mr. Wight’s token response, the entirety of my largest organ began to constrict! We’re talking about the elixir of life now. Of which, by his view, I’d drank enough for five inmates prior to starting work and still I felt deprived. With dilated pupils and my bones creaking under pressure, I decided turnabout was fair play. It was time to humour him. Using his most eloquent recitation of the dietician’s spreadsheet as a template, I wondered aloud about the likelihood of a standardized amount of work expected from such a standardized approach to fuelling such work. “Surely Mr. Wight, you can agree that every individual has their own metabolic rate. Each person that eats the standardized diet therefore processes said diet differently.” He not only agreed but offered that his 260 pound system metabolizes much more slowly than my 145 pounds. To look at his belly, that much was evident. 

“Further to my point,” I continued, “each individual possesses their own unique approach to work. But presumably, with such a standardized caloric intake, would it not follow that those who have a tendency to work at a higher rate conceivably run out of energy from the provided calories sooner than the others who don’t exhibit such qualities? If there is no standardized amount of ergs expected to be expended by each individual, would it be prudent to pace oneself in their work? The herd mentality that prevails when feeding it must also prevail in expectation of output, no?”

It seemed that he was genuinely perplexed. I said all of this with a straight face. A hint of a smirk to confirm it was purely a red herring proposition. The glint in his eye and the return of a smirk told me I hadn’t overstepped my bounds as crew spokesman. He conceded with a promise of a pound of Hawaiian coffee for tomorrow that he had sitting in his freezer at home. I had won! No changes in store for our lunches but when it came to the beloved black gold, he said that beyond his offer of a pound of premium coffee, he hadn’t a problem if Mr. Person wanted to contribute extra beans beyond his. A small but sweet victory over a three stripe corrections officer. I couldn’t help but take my little trophy and raise it on high by saying, ”seeing that you’re willing to offer us something from Hawaii, do think you could get us some pakalolo?“ 

”Pakalolo, what’s that?“ he said. 

”You know, the crazy weed!“ I countered, replete with a cheeky little hula sway of my hips and arms for emphasis. 

Standing beside one of our many roadside piles, Wight reached down, snapped a twig off a branch and deadpanned, ”Here, smoke this!“

Fighting Words – Team TIG

Fighting Words by Team TIG (Originally published Oct.12th, 2023)

The Islands Grapevine (TIG) would never publish hate-speech directed at a marginalized group, but an online and word of mouth gossip campaign has mounted into a mob mentality of hateful smears of TIG. While wrapping themselves in virtuous flags of inclusion and diversity, community values and respect for neighbours coexisting, these bullies have joined together to try to destroy a 32 year old community newspaper with false accusations based on hearsay, while TIG employs people who survive month to month on its modest income.

When TIG received an email from Denman Island Bus Service (DIBS) employee Bronwyn Schuster that threatened a withdrawal of publicly funded advertising expenditures in TIG unless its publisher agreed to changes to its editorial policy, TIG replied immediately and privately to inquire whether Schuster wished to share their concerns by publishing them in TIG. We also clarified to Schuster that their accusation that TIG published bigoted hate-speech in relation to transgender people was categorically false. While weeks went by, we did not receive a response from Schuster. It was then that TIG published Part 1 of our Team TIG editorial, Threats, Lies, and the Misuse of Public Funds in its Aug.10 issue.

Schuster’s response was to post on Denman social media, admitting to the misuse of their position, but doubled down on accusations of transphobic content published in TIG without providing any specific example, other than to say the transphobic content was contained in TIG contributor Phoenix’s article. In that article Phoenix expressed concern for the safety of both cisgender and transgender inmates from convicted cis-male rapists who wished to transfer to women’s prisons under a newly enacted law. Phoenix’s source was the Government of Canada’s Correctional Services website. Whatever one’s view about Phoenix’s expressed concern, it was the opposite of transphobic, as she had led off the article with a lengthy preamble of her positive feelings toward the LGBTQQ2SiA+ communities. 

Anyone can read Phoenix’s article by reviewing it on theislandsgrapevine.com in the archived July 6 issue.

DenmanWorks (DW) Chair Anthony Gregson’s response to this was to admit that Schuster had misused their position, but immediately fired TIG publisher Mike Van Santvoord from his job managing the visitdenmanisland.ca website without explanation, or giving him an opportunity to speak with the DW Board prior to a vote to remove him as a Director as is required under DW’s bylaws and the B.C. Societies Act. Gregson has been acting as DW Chair past his 4 year term limit, and has not advertised for new board members, or published the minutes of any DW meetings, both required under the B.C. Societies Act. 

DIBS Coordinator Sam Borthwick claimed to want these matters handled in a more “collegial” manner, but neither he nor Schuster made any attempt to contact TIG in support of a resolution. It was TIG who reached out to Borthwick privately and made an agreement that an apology from Schuster would appear in the following issue of TIG, and that same apology would be posted by Schuster on Denman social media. When the “apology” did not appear on Denman social media, Borthwick claimed that he could not keep his commitment to the social media post, where his spouse Schuster had made the false accusation.

TIG contacted the Comox Valley Regional District (CVRD), the local government responsible for funding DW and DIBS. CVRD Community Services manager Doug Demarzo offered to support the hiring of a mediator to help resolve these matters. TIG gratefully accepted his offer. Community mediator Karen McKinnon contacted TIG and told us she would be contacting the other parties to see if they were willing to enter into a mediated process. Weeks have gone by, and we have not received an agreement to mediation by Gregson, Borthwick, or Schuster. TIG has now filed complaints in B.C. Provincial Court, under the B.C. Societies Act, and with the B.C Ombudsperson. TIG has also retained legal counsel to file a defamation lawsuit relating to damages to TIG’s reputation, and for the financial damages that have resulted.

Highly respected and 11 year Islands Trustee Laura Busheikin weighed in on social media to endorse Schuster’s misuse of their position and public funds. Members of the DIRCS executive and Concerts Denman joined in the smear campaign, demanding an alternative to advertising in TIG. Smelling blood in the water, erstwhile “anarchist” Aaron Muirhead took the opportunity to announce a rival publication, based on his disdain for TIG, and proudly endorsed Schuster’s admitted malfeasances. When publicly pressed on his issues with TIG, Muirhead was unable to muster any specific complaint. These are all endorsements of a publicly funded employee influence peddling using public monies.

Apparently, all these virtuous members of our community have misplaced their ethical compasses and any sense of mutuality or integrity. No one is required to advertise in TIG, but they ARE required NOT to attempt to extort policy changes in a community newspaper using public funds as a weapon, especially based on a false accusation. We have reached a point in local culture, not unlike the broader world that surrounds us, that an unfounded accusation is enough of a reason to attempt to cancel a local business and the livelihoods it supports. 

TIG is committed to using every legal means necessary in pushing back on these lies and unwarranted attacks, as we demand legal, social, and community justice, and while we continue to serve Denman and Hornby Islands and surrounding areas, 50 weeks a year.