My writing has taken various forms through the years, from years of regular blogging (which are memorialized here, not all of which I stand by!) to my more recent infrequent posts capturing my sermons & creative writing. Thanks for visiting; please comment and join the conversation.
In many First Nations along the West Coast, especially those with ceremonies in longhouses, there is a tradition of choosing witnesses. These people are given a small amount of money, and are formally charged with carefully observing what happens at that ceremony, so that they can tell future generations, and others who are not present...
The phrase "Truth and Reconciliation" often brings to mind race-based conflicts in places like South Africa, Rwanda, El Salvador, and Guatemala. Due to the absence of a high-profile genocide or civil war, many Canadians are surprised to discover that Canada is also currently in the middle of a nation-wide Truth and Reconciliation process...
As we walked, we stopped at various places to remember parts of the crucifixion story. At each site, we each planted a wildflower seed and sang, "Unless the seed falls to the ground, ain't gonna be no life at all." We also read excerpts of poetry by Bud Osborn at each stop. Bud Osborn is one of the coolest people I know. Actually I don't really know him at all, but I know his work, and every time I see him in the neighbourhood, I feel like I want to ask for his autograph...
Not long ago, I read a blog that raised an interesting question: why do Christians and churches in North America tend to give more to the poor overseas (especially to Africa and to places where natural disasters have occurred) than to the poor in their own cities?...
Every Monday night since July, I have been trying out a new activity: First Nations traditional dance classes. (Well, it hasn't been every Monday night... I took a bit of a break from dance after I stepped on a sea urchin while on vacation, but that's for another blog entry.) I will say this up front: I am the whitest regular attender of the drop-in class. Last Monday, several new people joined us, so we did the customary go-around-the-circle-and-say-your-name thing, but we were also asked to share our tribal background. There were Miqmaqs and Plains Crees, two Squamish girls, a Haida woman, a Gitxzan, and a few people from Tsawwassen nation. When it was my turn, I said, "I'm Beth, and I am British/Irish/Swedish/Czech."...
"I don't want all of my blog posts to be about friends who have passed away, but, well, there's been a bunch of them lately. Tonight, we're having a memorial for Ricky Lavallie. Ricky was probably the closest and dearest DTES friend I've lost yet. His death took a whole day to sink in (not to mention we didn't hear about it until 3 weeks after it happened), and I found myself weeping before falling asleep that night, remembering him and wishing we'd had more time together..."
"Selma was more of an acquaintance than a friend. She passed away a few days ago. As I've been remembering her this week, I started working on a poem about one morning I spent with her. I have struggled over whether or not to share it online. My hesitancy in posting it is that I don't want to sentimentalize or sensationalize her. She was much more than this moment I had with her; she was a whole lifetime of moments. In the end, I decided to post it because I want to try to let you in more on some of my experiences on the DTES..."
