Find Your Solace Here
Letter from the Editor as published in the June 2021 issue
I feel blessed by a constitution that allows me to embrace beauty even in the ugliest situation. Ontario’s lockdown has been extended. Again. And as our government limps along and people rage on social media, I don’t find it hard to swallow a sigh and say, ‘they're just doing their best,’ even if I don’t really believe it.
We have days of rain and days of sun and I’m thankful for both, just as I’m thankful I don’t have neighbours who knock on our door because we haven’t cut our grass yet. Embracing the little things is how I’m surviving.
It’s okay if you’re not okay. If your core is screaming to be let loose, if you’re climbing the walls, if the thrill of grocery shopping brings you to tears because it’s just so sad that it’s the only thing you can get excited about—you’re not alone.
This edition marks the end of our fifth year in circulation and I am incredibly proud to be approaching another anniversary. I hope this June issue will bring a reprieve from the things that weigh heavy on your spirit. May it be a welcome break from the monotony of living in a pandemic as you dive into the work and art of your fellow Canadians.
As we look ahead to a time of reintegration and learning how to be social again, I encourage you to hang on to the good things that have come from this experience. For me, it’s been the space to stretch, to deconstruct my goals, to examine my values, and ask myself some hard questions. It has been a time of growth and appreciation. I don’t want to lose the merit of a quiet moment or the permission to just lay in the grass because I feel like it without worrying about showing up to the office on time. The freedom I’ve found in the midst of ‘imprisonment’ has been profound. I hope, in some ways, it has been the same for you.
No matter where you’re at, whether you’re thriving or struggling, I would propose that now is the perfect time to invest in yourself, to channel your feelings into art, to experience the healing therapy of pen, keyboard, paintbrush, or clay.
My yard is a canvas. The sky is a pallet. The sea of dandelions I lay in is a reminder that there is light in the world even when the sun hides behind a cloud; they’re not yet ready to be wished upon, but when they are, I will make a wish for your happiness and I will blow it your way.
Alanna Rusnak
Editor in Chief, Blank Spaces
