A Vulnerable Species

The Yellow Rail is highly secretive, the Red-Headed Woodpecker nests in dead or dying trees, the Southern Flying squirrel is capable of gliding 50 yards between trees. These are all vulnerable species, all needing protection because they are vital elements of our biodiversity. Without them, we'll all be a little less resilient as an ecosystem.

The other night, I accepted an invitation to a house concert. I had never been to one before, and I was intrigued. The artist was Tanya Davis. I have long admired her work from afar and now, finally, I was up close. My favourite (which she played that night) is Art. She is most famous though for How to be Alone (see above).

The night of the house concert, we were ushered into my friend's cosy and beautiful cottage, festooned with fairy lights and we snuggled in to hear Tanya sing.

Tanya is a delicate singer and writer. She speaks and sings of her acceptance of being vulnerable in a world of heart break, and 9-5 jobs, that can (and does) harden many other hearts. With her sweet words and smile, she invites you to do the same, in whatever measure you can muster.

Her music made me take stock of a lot of things in that cosy cocoon, but most of all I came away with the thought, artists are essential to our life blood. Art innoculates us against fear and stress and cruelty. Artists, like Tanya, often produce their best work when they choose to put themselves into delicate, precarious states, right on a line between danger and safety. She volunteers to be a vulnerable species. She does this for art, but also to help us all stay as resilient as possible.

The song I loved loved loved that night is one I want sung at my funeral: Don't Bury Me.

Comments

I entered August without you.

I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.

Keep telling yourself that.

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