New Song: northern wolves.
I wrote this song when Gord Downie died.
I was listening to Secret Path on repeat, learning about Chanie Wenjack and grappling with what it means to have grown up as a white person in Northern Ontario.
It’s a beautiful place, to be sure, full of ancient trees, hidden lakes, and quiet air. When I make the trip from my new home in the GTA, I can feel the stress begin to dissipate as I wind my way through the hills of Highway 17.
But it’s also a place of mourning – an intersection between the small worlds of growing up and the more complicated legacies that we inherit.
I hope that this simple song can help you as it has helped me – to accept the confusion and vulnerability that comes with recognizing that the places you love don’t measure up to the version of them that you hold in your heart. That the place so kind to you has not been good to all.
There is a weight and responsibility to the true north, I think. One which transcends the colours and sounds of a traditional holiday.