We All Deserve Sunshine
On winter storms, survival, and the stubborn insistence of hope
This winter has been particularly brutal.
We’re waiting for a storm that could bring unprecedented freezing temperatures, potentially reaching -50°C. We’ve been told that Ontario, including where I live, could be the coldest place on earth this weekend.
I just got back from running errands. I stocked up on food, bought batteries for my flashlights and AM/FM radio, and filled containers with water, in case we lose power. I’ve also brought in a ton of wood for my wood-burning stove.
It’s the kind of preparation that comes with country living. It makes me grateful for the basic things I don’t always notice until I have to: food, warmth, shelter.
And still, I can’t stop thinking about the many people who don’t have any of it. What it means to live through cold like this without a home. Without heat. Without the mercy of a place to go. I can’t imagine how anyone survives it.
In other news…
Yesterday, ICE detained a five-year-old boy on his way home from school.
Five. Years. Old.
The image of this sweet, scared child with his Spider-Man backpack and bunny rabbit hat has lodged itself in the collective brain. It’s the kind of image that should stop everyone in their tracks. That should make an entire country say: No. Absolutely not. Not this.
Instead, it joins a growing archive of unbearable things we’re witnessing, with few, if any, repercussions, and less and less outrage each time.
Has numbness become the cost of staying functional? Is hardening the only way to keep going? To look away? To accept what should never be acceptable?
At Davos, our Canadian prime minister, Mark Carney, gave a speech that became the talk of the week. Calm. Intelligent. Lucid. A man calling out the truth, naming the emperor with no clothes, in a room full of tailored denial.
It was a stark contrast to the incoherent, fascist spewings of a certain delusional, narcissistic president. The same one who confused Iceland for Greenland.
But still. The emperor should’ve been called out ages ago.
Because the truth is, we’ve been witnessing the futility and impotence of the rules-based international order for years now, as massacres and genocides continue, while leaders posture and lie with little to no consequence.
I’m glad Carney’s invitation to the Orwellian “Board of Peace” has been revoked. A committee whose members include some of the world’s worst war criminals is as meaningless as a regifted Nobel Peace Prize.
On the bright side…
Not only have we survived Blue Monday (the post-holiday comedown), but we’ve made it through the ten darkest weeks of the year.
Sunlight is slowly returning. We’ve entered the sign of Aquarius. The shedding of the Wood Snake is almost complete. In a few weeks, we’ll move into the forward momentum of the Fire Horse, whether we feel ready for it or not.
And then there is the phenomenon that is Heated Rivalry. A series I’ve already watched twice in its entirety since Christmas.
Look, I’ve rewatched favourite series and films before. Old, familiar stories I slide into when I’m tired, or lonely, or just trying to get through the day. But I’ve never returned to something this quickly. I’ve never felt pulled to re-enter the same world before I’d fully left it.
Maybe it’s because it’s the balm so many of us are reaching for right now.
Not only is it a beautifully crafted series, with protagonists we don’t see on our screens often enough. It’s a story that’s powerful and hopeful without ever tipping into saccharine. A world where potential dread never turns into doom. Instead, it becomes acceptance, connection, witnessing. Where years-long yearning doesn’t get punished. It gets fully met, evolving into deep, reciprocal love that is greater than any fear.
The global sensation of this little Canadian series feels seismic. And maybe that says something, not just about the series, but about us. About the times we’re in. And what we’re all desperately craving right now.
Speaking of feeling inspired…
I’ve been incredibly moved by the protests around the world, and by the hundreds of thousands of people taking to the streets globally, to fight fascism, stand up to ICE, and demand justice in the face of oppression.
People showing up despite the freezing cold, organizing walkouts, shutting down businesses, refusing to participate. Neighbours looking out for one another, communities forming in solidarity, and protests turning into moments of celebration through music, art, and dance.
Even in places where protest can cost you everything. Especially in places where it already has.
It’s much-needed light illuminating the darkness. Life rising up inside the bleakness, insisting that we’re still human, that we still belong to one another.
And there’s a rupture happening. I think we can all feel it. The foundation is cracking beneath the tired, oppressive systems that only ever served the privileged few.
An unprecedented storm is coming, and I’ve prepared as best I can.
The dread of it is real. The kind that makes you stack wood, fill water containers, check the batteries, and refresh weather warnings on your phone.
But something else is real too. People keep showing up. The streets keep filling. Art keeps getting made. And love keeps insisting.
Maybe hope isn’t limited to the wish-fulfillment of TV. Maybe hope is an act of defiance. Maybe it’s the only way to stay human.
After all, we all deserve sunshine.
