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‘Be mindful of our metaphors’

Dear Editor, I am responding to Loni Klettl’s letter from January 29th, 2015. I want to begin by acknowledging the privilege of witnessing a passionate woman’s process of grieving a change that greatly impacts her life.

Dear Editor,

I am responding to Loni Klettl’s letter from January 29th, 2015. I want to begin by acknowledging the privilege of witnessing a passionate woman’s process of grieving a change that greatly impacts her life. I thank her for courageously opening up a conversation about grieving in our community. She has shared many intimate facets of her process: from the thrilling joy that these wild places offer her, to the anger and frustration she has experienced, as well as deep sadness.

The experience of loss brings all of this to the surface and more.

I acknowledge that silence can be perceived as apathy and yet I want to bring another layer to the experience of silence. The words of Terry Tempest Williams offer a thought: “When silence is a choice, it is an unnerving presence.
 When silence is imposed, it is censorship.”

I observe both of these descriptions of silence in our community and feel it is necessary to speak of my own experience. In particular, I’m noticing how the rhythm of my own footsteps in the park have slowed down and it seems to be drawing a larger volume of silence out of me. Perhaps, it is because the contrast of leaving Jasper National Park feels that much more abrasive and most times unsettling.

This past fall, I spent some time in Fort McMurray and hiked the trails of Gateway Hill, a Syncrude reclamation area that the Alberta Government has deemed to be the equivalent of its pre-mining conditions. Whilst I was able to identify many native plants, heard a variety of birds and even saw traces of bear scat, the underlying quality of my surroundings was noticeably different. I noticed my resistance to accept this forest as being “natural” and yet, I left Gateway Hill with a new level of respect for the resiliency that is inherent in the natural world.

Loni’s message of “You’re next” resurfaced in this memory of Gateway Hill and yet I don’t interpret this statement as a fearful foreboding. On the contrary, I am learning to sample new flavours in my own winter stew: a quiet surrender to the opportunity of exploring my own response to change. I have much to learn from the natural world’s unfaltering drive to regenerate itself despite unspeakable loss and I’m inclined to urge our community to be mindful of our metaphors.

Whilst Loni portrays the Berlin Wall, I see the veil only becoming thinner and the invitation to make deeper connections becoming even more pronounced.

Paula Klassen
Jasper, Alta.

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