Showing all posts tagged hope

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Politics, Relationships, Writing

Farewell 2025

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

In December, I like to take some time to look back over the year and reflect. Normally, this feels peaceful and inspiring. This year, not so much. It feels like searching through shit, hoping to find a bit of elusive gold to make the process worthwhile.

I wish the news weren’t so bleak. I find myself longing for a pre-fascist world, one where common sense, intelligence, kindness, and decency are valued again. Where generative AI is a pipe dream, not the digital asbestos we have now that infects everything and costs a fortune and makes cheating easy and weakens our human connection to art and creativity.

But there are good things, too. My kids coming home from university to spend a couple weeks under the same roof as Jason and I again, after spending this entire fall grieving for the end of the beautiful stage that was raising our family. William has a new girlfriend, so we’ve been getting to know her, and experiencing that unique phenomenon where your heart can stretch to include someone who wasn’t there before.

For 2025, I decided to not publish anything. I made it a year to focus on a new writing project, my murder mystery novel A Body at the Fair, which I hoped to finish by December. I haven’t finished, but it’s okay. One of the best things about being an independent publisher is that I can be flexible with my scheduling. I don’t have an agent asking when I’ll be turning in my book, or an imprint setting a date and holding me to that deadline.

When I watched the limited series Task this fall and did a rewatch of Mare of Easttown, by the same creator, I remembered that good work takes time. Our culture has become obsessed with speed and commerce—the endless rush to market so someone can make money. But I’d prefer to invest in work that will outlive me, that has a chance to stand the test of time, and offer hope or inspiration or meaning to others for generations to come. That type of vision takes time and intention, so I’m offering those gifts to myself.

My overall word for 2025 was space. I think I worked hard at this, trying to make space for myself in my relationships, and in the wider world. I offered myself space to simply be human, instead of rushing around trying to check items off my to-do list. I also worked at giving space to others, especially my young-adult kids. My counsellor helped me see that if days go by and I don’t hear from them, it’s not punitive like it was in my family of origin. It’s just a bit of healthy space. If and when we miss one another or need one another, we’ll reach out. This bit of important insight has literally changed my life.

My 3 words for 2025 were deeper, simpler, quieter. I wanted to slow down and catch my breath. Looking back, I can see I did exactly that. I wrote the first half of my murder mystery novel, writing using intuition like with Post Civ instead of outlining and planning, and I’m thrilled with how that book is developing. I got derailed from finishing, when America tilted precariously into white Christian nationalist authoritarian rule and I decided to process my feelings on this by writing a journal as a historical record, but I will return to it in 2026 and eventually finish the book.

I loved having my monthly Ruby Finch Books Substack newsletter and podcast to reflect on each of the words I had chosen. At different points of the year, it’s helpful to have a unique focus to live into. I plan to continue my commitment to living a uniquely human life that prioritizes depth, simplicity, and quiet. These are valuable qualities.

The farther I move away from social media, and the aggressive disinformation campaigns forced on us through open AI, designed to fracture society and spread intentional propaganda, the more human I can become. And I fucking love being human in this misguided and inevitably doomed age of artificial intelligence. What an act of resistance it is to simply lean into my messy flesh and blood existence.

I’m sad that I didn’t finish my screenplay for Jamesy Harper’s Big Break this year, nor did I set up Ruby Finch Pictures as a production company. But there’s time. I’m giving myself space, and an extra measure of compassion, and moving these goals into the next year or even 2027. There’s no shortage of interesting work to do, and I keep reminding myself that a dream I’ve had since I was sixteen can wait another year or more. Living now, through these moments, matters too.

Farewell, 2025. You’ve been a hard one. Maybe 2026 will offer a little more light and hope for my fellow human beings, as we continue to share this one and only precious planet of ours. May love, nurture, and reason become fashionable again next year. Let’s work together to make it so.

In Culture, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Uncategorized

Endings and Beginnings

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

We are in a time of transition, with seasons ending and new ones beginning. This pandemic, which has dragged on forever and a year, is entering a fresh stage with our province announcing a re-opening plan. All four of us in my immediate family have been vaccinated with our first dose, providing hope for a return to normalcy.

But what the hell does that even mean? Almost fifteen months into this thing, we have adjusted to masks, social distancing, staying at home, being extra cautious all the damn time. This weird version of life now feels normal to us. I can’t quite imagine getting on a plane again, going on vacation and out to restaurants, socializing with others, and speaking to a crowd of real live human beings instead of through a screen.

I’m reminded again of how strange and unsettling change can be. I know it’s good for me, like eating my vegetables and flossing my teeth, but I really hate not knowing what to expect. For this whole pandemic none of us were able to make any real plans, because staring into the future was like peering at a giant question mark. But now it appears hope is on the horizon, and yet I find myself still feeling cautious and uncertain.

Every ending has an invitation to a beginning built into it. I’m trying to focus on that as we move into the summer. Ava graduated this week from grade twelve and we’re preparing for her to attend the University of Victoria in September. She’s enrolled in the theatre program where she’ll work toward a BFA in acting. Another rough ending, when she moves out of our house, with an exciting beginning just after the tears have dried.

Perhaps the key is to make room for all of it. The sadness when one thing ends, then the vacuum of the liminal space where we feel unprepared and afraid, and finally the rejuvenation of a new experience. As Anne Lamott wrote, “My diocesan priest friend Terry Richie says the thing is not to try harder, but to resist less.” I’m inherently bad at resisting less, but it’s something I’m working toward. Flowing with the current instead of against it.

Each of us is at different stages of change, but when it comes to the pandemic we are all experiencing some of the same growing pains. We’re like butterflies emerging from the chrysalis, flying into the sunshine, freer to move around than we’ve been in over a year. Who knows what will happen next? Maybe that’s part of the allure. To allow ourselves grace when we feel timid, and to celebrate together when we feel brave. When one season ends, another one automatically begins. It’s hopeful and scary at exactly the same time.

In Culture

Me Too

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Me Too

When “Me too” began trending on social media this week as a response to the horrific allegations of sexual abuse by Harvey Weinstein specifically and Hollywood in general, I loved the idea of revealing how widespread this issue is but hesitated to participate myself.

In a display of personal gaslighting, I thought, “What’s happened to me is minor compared to what other women have had to endure.” But when a friend of mine shared her story on Facebook, I commented that ALL our stories of harassment and sexism matter. That’s the point of the whole damn thing – to say “me too” so we can continue the conversation because cultural patriarchy has become so widespread that we fail to notice it for the evil that it is.

I grew up in a conservative evangelical Christian setting. I went to church every Sunday, Bible Study on Wednesday, youth group on Friday, church camp in the summer…you get the idea. I lived and breathed patriarchy and sexism. I was taught that God is the leader, and he is male, so therefore in the human realm, the man is king.

This flawed ideology has caused untold pain and suffering in our world. Words like “submit” and “obey” were used regularly in my Christian school and church environments for the relationship a woman was to have with a man. A woman was to be quiet, sweet, giving and gentle. She was not supposed to have her own ideas or disagree with a man.

In the last few years, I’ve completely abandoned the evangelical Christian world. A number of factors went into this decision, but the rampant sexism and racism present in this patriarchal system is now abhorrent to me. I’ve been hurt by it in more ways than I can count and I will not participate in it anymore. I truly believe that the whole thing must crumble so that something new and fair and equal can grow in its place.

One example of physical harassment came at the age of 17 at what used to be called Klondike Days in Edmonton. I was walking with a group of friends when several drunk men, about fifteen years older than us, catcalled loudly as they approached. We tried to ignore them, but one of them grabbed my crotch as he walked by. It hurt physically and stung emotionally. That happened nearly thirty years ago and yet I feel ashamed and embarrassed to recount it now.

What gives a man the right to physically assault a woman in a public place? Or a private one? The answer is: THE SYSTEM. They have the power to do what they want, and this is why the system must change.

I love the idea behind the “Me too” hashtag. It shows frightened and angry women that we are not alone. It provides hope that safety can be found in numbers. It also reveals how huge this problem of toxic masculinity and power abuse really is.

While we’re at it, let’s do a couple of things immediately to give equality a fighting chance:

Stop Calling Women Girls

When a girl gets her period, she is no longer a girl. She is now a woman. Language matters and we don’t refer to a man with a mortgage, a job and children as a “boy”. If we want to be fair, stop calling women girls and even this part of the playing field.

Change Your Language Around Rape and Violence

As Jackson Katz brilliantly demonstrates below, stop using the passive voice when referring to “violence against women”.

Silence is Violence

Speak up, as a woman and as a man. When something is sexist or misogynist or unfair in any way, say something. Be brave and bold. This is how equality works – we cannot stay silent and hope for change. WE ARE THE CHANGE.

Keep up the good work, my friends. We can support and love each other through the pain and shame we have suffered. The “Me too” movement is beautiful and we need every voice in this fight. Don’t lose hope. I’m here and would love to hear your stories.

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth

Hope and Rage

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Hope and Rage

If hope is a balloon, light and airy and free, right now it’s firmly attached to an anchor of rage for me. I feel so fucking mad right now, angrier than I can ever recall being, at the state of our world and the sheer madness of what some people are thinking, doing and saying.

As a woman, I’m tired of staying quiet. Remaining calm, stable and gentle. NO. Not now. Not with this lunatic American president spewing hate, misogyny, racism and fear-mongering on a daily basis. Not with the evangelical Christian community I came from (and left in 2014) still supporting these dangerous rantings from a man unfit in every way to hold the office of president.

This tsunami of rage has threatened to take me over completely. I know I have to feel it, to let it have its way, for the purpose of anger is to cleanse and to prepare us for a new stage of positive action.

We are all in for a fight. It’s beyond time for the patriarchy to die, with its failed notions of male hierarchies grasping the power structures of the world. I’d love to believe that we can resist our way to a healthier society with no blood being shed or lives being destroyed, but history tells us this is not how the process works. The arc of social justice is long, messy and deadly.

Clearly, the time for wealth and race to dictate who holds authority is over. Finished. We are watching the death throes of the rich white man wielding power by blaming minorities, women and the poor for everything that goes wrong. It’s time for the evangelical church to perish right along with this male-centred structure of abuse, so something new and inclusive can form instead.

But the question remains, how violent is this clash between love and decency versus hate and supremacy going to get? How many lives will be lost? Exactly how brave are we going to have to be to stand up for what’s right?

Perhaps the fury I feel, together with many other women, people of colour and all who have been oppressed and humiliated for too long, is the fuel we need to move our resistance forward. To say “Hell no” and “Fuck you” with spirit and courage. To fight, but never to hate. To build the type of world that we’ve long believed was possible – not one with faulty top-down ideas of success that hinge on being male and white, but instead one that embraces everyone who has been marginalized and says, “Let’s work together.”

That’s where the hope comes in. And maybe, after a ton of work, time and acceptance, we can cut the string on the balloon and watch it soar into the sky, knowing that the future can be brighter than our distressing and unfair past.

In Minimalism, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

More Beauty, Less Rushing

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I’ve committed to waking up to the beauty and inspiration all around me. Far too often I notice I’m sleepwalking through life, going through the necessary motions of getting exercise, eating, trying to get enough sleep, writing, e-mailing, planning for the future, remembering to text or call friends, making sure the kids and husband are okay, watching Netflix and so on.

But when I really begin to pay attention, the minutia of existence falls away, just for a little, and I’m able to function in a different, more beautiful dimension.

On Monday, I dropped Ava at her dance class and stopped at Save-On for some groceries. As I pulled into a parking spot, Corey Hart’s “Never Surrender” came on the radio, so as all self-respecting people of a certain age would do, I pumped up the volume (see what I did there?) and stayed in the car until the song was over.

This gave me a chance to sing and look out the windshield for the brief interlude of one fantastic 80s song. Dusk was just beginning to descend, so the sky was that intense shade of blue, like the ocean after a storm. Clouds perforated the landscape, creating visual interest and texture.

Across from me was an old minivan, with the back hatch open. A young, bearded man sat there, reading a beat-up paperback book and stroking the soft head of an ancient dog lying with his head in the man’s lap. The scene was so gentle, intimate and stirring, it restored my hope and my focus. Watching for two minutes took me out of my harried modern world and restored me to myself.

Ava worked this weekend on a short film and on Saturday morning her set was a small park in North Vancouver. While the cast and crew blocked a complicated fight scene, my attention drifted to a dad pushing his eighteen-month-old daughter on a baby swing a few feet away. He stood in front of her and pretended she kicked him in the stomach every time the swing came forward. He said, “Ooof!” with a mock pained expression and the baby laughed every single time.

This game went on for about ten minutes. He never once glanced at his cell phone or seemed bored. He was utterly dialled in and present with her. Simply observing the connection between the two of them gave me an enormous lump in my throat.

Beauty is everywhere. I’m determined to create more of those moments in my own life. To stop rushing and to savour instead. To slow, to rest, to be enough, to cease hustling and proving. To recognize that success is how we define it and not what anyone else thinks or says.

Time is fleeting. Petting a dog while the sun sets or soaking up the giggles of your beloved child are worthwhile, important pursuits.

More beauty, less rushing. Awareness makes these gifts possible. They are right there, ours for the taking, with the power to change us for the better.