All's fair in love and plagiarism, why Alberta is the most beautiful province, and The Walrus follows the MAiD money.
Three things this week and a poem about first things
We got hit with snow this weekend here in south western Ontario. I’m still not used lighting and thunder in blizzards. I look out the window expecting Armageddon. But we survived.
Gratefully, my comedy-of-errors attempt to replace my own windshield wipers didn’t end in disaster when a kind mechanic slipped me into his busy shop and fit on some Bosch blades that worked wonders in the weather.
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I hope you’re staying warm this weekend. Thanks for spending some of it with me on Things I Wrote Down.
Here’s a list of three interesting things from the week and a poem about first things.
All’s fair in love and plagiarism
Have you followed the story playing out on X as Bill Ackman, the hedge fund manager, takes on inept leadership at Harvard while defending the honour of his wife after accusations of plagiarism were thrown at her by proxy?
His viral tweets outlining the attacks on this wife, a former professor, since he himself raised his voice are fascinating. Quick summary: Don't mess with his wife.
It's an epic love story for our times and I'm here for it. I hope you find someone who loves you like Bill Ackman loves Neri Oxman.
Why Alberta is the most beautiful province
A dear friend in the States sent this to me this week. And you know what? I cried when I watched it. The stunning images from Alberta landscapes made me miss my home province real bad.
Take a look at these scenes and you'll understand why I now pray that we all may ride bareback in open fields and touch the Northern Lights some day soon.
The Walrus follows the MAiD money
The Walrus published an explosive article this week that followed the money and the incredible influence of Dying with Dignity, Canada's main, powerhouse euthanasia lobby.
It reveals its uncomfortably close relationship to the Trudeau government (who, in the last 8 years oversaw a change to the criminal code to allow assisted suicide for irremediable conditions and, as of this upcoming March, for people on the sole basis of mental health).
The article also provides a list of donors to the lobby group that include Pfizer, the drug company that makes three of the lethal drugs recommended to doctors who perform MAiD, Sunlife, Telus, Google Ads, Rogers, TD bank and more.
If you have pearls, prepare to clutch them.
The poem I'm sharing this week is from deep in the archive, one of the first I wrote and shared with others. It's about the words we grasp for, about that which is behind it all.
sometimes sometimes, when sitting down, maybe standing, a heavy weightlessness overcomes and reminds of the ancient future – those days that already exist, just haven’t been yet. As the water ripples further, further yet, to the edges, the center of that thought the lung filling definition is less visible, still there if honesty is allowed, real blood, what is there touches at held pebbles brought above the surface that don’t remain hidden just beneath are always there, refracted to another position because eyes see imperfectly, always looking but never quite correctly, then life isn’t so primal doesn’t feel so incidental is deliberate if the screaming void is hushed, and the pulsating voices mute it is at those times, when the groans of nature, the longing of the trees, the dissatisfaction of waves, the cry of boulders, the sigh of wind, when they are heard as deaf man hears- not through ears but by fingertips and heartbeats- when the smudges are wiped away, and the glass seems clear, one breath is enough and that little pinch of air reached for at the top end of inhalation is not necessary sometimes, when sitting down maybe standing, eyes can close without having to peek over shoulders and there isn’t need to search for the origin of yellow lined black now red bannered eyelid vision eyelashes aren’t caterpillars and it is okay to be alone thinking doesn’t have to make sense and all the things that govern all the acceptable rules of civility and stature melt into a mustard seed of h u m i l i t y and you’re on your knees