In This Context: Wayfinding
It's been quite the autumn.
After the events in September, we had another at the end of October. In that one, author Roy Blomstrom (who is also my husband) and I participated in Entershine Bookshop's "In Conversation with Michael Sobota" series. Roy's newest historical novel, The Devil's Violin: Myllysilta's History, had come out early in the summer, and this was our celebration. Michael asked us his trademark thoughtful questions, we ate cookies, Roy talked about The Devil's Violin and I talked about Making Up the Gods, we signed books that the lovely Entershine people sold. It was a nice event.
We're fortunate to have both Entershine and Michael in Thunder Bay. Besides interviewing authors and participating in the arts community in general, Michael writes book reviews for the local newspaper AND the local arts magazine (for which he also writes a column on movies).
The following weekend, I began co-leading a three-week community arts/creative writing workshop for care partners of people who have dementia. It was sponsored by Dementia Cafe, a program of Lakehead University's Center for Education and Research on Aging and Health. Ordinarily I volunteer with Dementia Cafe once a month or so; its focus is primarily to provide a welcoming "place to belong" for people with dementia and their care partners. We wear name tags, we drink coffee and eat snacks, we chat--a skill set I enjoy practicing.
The workshop was a stretch for me, so luckily, Eleanor Albanese, a local writer and community arts expert, provided a model and much of the energy. It was really fun! I thoroughly enjoyed the activities we did. All of us participating, including Eleanor and me, have some care responsibilities for a family member with dementia, so we were all there to learn.
The theme was "Wayfinding," which is the umbrella term that describes various ways in which people (and other animals) navigate unfamiliar territory. And, as it turns out, the concept of wayfinding has been especially helpful to me as my workshop responsibilities have ended and November is drawing to a close.
The golden beauty of September gave way to a dry October and, at last, the grey days of November. This week brought the first real snow. Not enough for snowblowing, but enough to make me look for walking shoes with better traction.
Some changes bring grief. Roy and I lost a dear friend halfway through the month, the "one of the good ones" kind of friend called "Uncle" by kids and grandkids. Another longtime friend, a "whobody" (someone whose love and well wishes transcend time and formal relationships) also passed away--her family said she was "sung to heaven" by the extraordinary voice of one of her grandsons.
And, yes. Friends and relatives in both countries are adjusting to a new political reality.
I have found myself wondering what I have to offer, given this context. What work is worth doing. How I can contribute. How do I even know the answers to these questions--how do I navigate, what are my landmarks?
Medical appointments, let-slid chores, cleaning, transitions, errands, prepping for a new financial year, paying bills that usually come in the mail but can't because Canada Post is on strike, looking ahead to events in 2025--things like that have filled recent days. I'm still recuperating from recent flu and COVID vaccines.
In our Wayfinding workshops, we talked about lampposts, by which Lucy Pevensie navigated in Narnia--a completely foreign country, found during a time of war and dislocation. Those of us navigating a world touched directly by dementia talked about joy--where we find it, how to practice it, how to share it.
And so, those are the questions I'm asking myself now. I have hope that they'll help me again pick up the essays and stories and novels that only I can write, the projects that only I can complete, in service to creating the best possible world. I'm grateful to be here, still.
We live in such beauty.