Showing all posts tagged news

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 Books, Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Politics, Spiritual Life, Writing

Morality Still Matters

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Lately, scrolling through the news makes me so depressed that one question keeps floating up through my subconscious into my feverish mind: Does morality still matter? Is it important to care about what’s right and what’s wrong when so few people in positions of power (or their supporters) no longer seem to give a shit?

To find an answer, I turned to Omar El Akkad’s newest book, One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This. He’s a brilliant writer, and I adore his novels, so I knew his thoughts on the ongoing hellish nightmare that is the oppression of the Palestinian people in Gaza would help me unlock the deer-in-the-headlights feeling I’ve had about this monstrosity.

Not only did Omar El Akkad help me to better understand the nuances, he stirred up within my soul a twinned grief and rage that I’ve been trying to subdue, but find that these feelings have now been unleashed. And along with them I feel a blanket of shame, that I waited so long to engage my compassion and find the courage to use my voice.

In El Akkad’s book, he makes the point so much better than I could that morality still matters. That the performative noise we make in the west as liberals so we can feel like good people while doing nothing practical that could cost us personally or professionally is not only useless, it’s damaging to our souls and does real damage to people on the other side of the world.

In One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This Omar El Akkad writes “The moral component of history, the most necessary component, is simply a single question, asked over and over again: when it mattered, who sided with justice and who sided with power? What makes moments such as this one so dangerous, so clarifying, is that one way or another everyone is forced to answer.”

If we can’t care about starving children shot while trying to get scraps of food, then our moral compass is broken. My moral compass has been broken, because I was afraid to access my compassion. To speak up when it might be politically unpopular to do so. To tell myself that the issues were too complex for me to understand. But a live-streamed genocide that I choose to ignore so I don’t have to get involved is not complicated. It’s simple cowardice.

When writing about how western liberals try to have it both ways, by feeling like moral human beings while doing nothing to stop these atrocities, El Akkad asks, “How does one finish the sentence: It is unfortunate that tens of thousands of children are dead, but…”

I finally know how to finish that sentence. It’s well past time for action. To recognise and state aloud that my morality is meaningless when it might cost me something so I do nothing to help. Each one of us must draw a line and say we side with justice or with power. We cannot do both. The people of Gaza, like the people of Ukraine, need our help. If you are like me and you read novels about acts of courage during World War II, then we are well past our moment to step up and say, “no more.”

I don’t know exactly what this means for me, or for you, or for any of us. But I know that looking away is not an option. Choosing not to care because it hurts is cowardly. All of that apathy turns us away from ourselves, from our souls, from our shared humanity. We have to care about starving children like they were our beloved children. Because they are.

I don’t want war. I want peace. But I also want justice for those who are oppressed and starved and beaten and murdered because of politics and power. If I believe morality still matters, then this matters. Even when it costs me something, I have to be willing to act. To not stay silent. To do my part, whatever that part is, to stop this evil and to engage all of my grief, rage, and shame for taking so long and turning away so callously.

I’ll leave you with two quotes. The first is from Angela Davis, who writes “I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.” And the second is from Omar El Akkad’s must-read book, One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This: “How can you hope for anything to change if you won’t participate in the work of changing it? How can you have any moral standing if you are so susceptible to abandoning hope?”

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

What World Do You Want to Live In?

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

We have an election in Canada on April 28, 2025. I vote in every election, because our vote is our voice, but this election feels so much bigger and more important than any previous federal or provincial vote. This month, I’m asking myself and others, “What world do you want to live in?”

The answer really matters. It goes way beyond aligning with a particular political party because you want a perceived tax break, or because you’ve historically identified with one party over another. In 2025, we are observing in real time what happens to a country when you vote for a person who dismantles the checks and balances to exert authoritarian control over individuals and systems.

I find the situation developing to the south to be terrifying. It feels like the end of days, like the freedom I’ve previously taken for granted is perilous and in constant danger of disappearing altogether. Every day, reading the news headlines is like watching the water level rise, until very soon I’ll be taking my last breath and the sea will be over my head.

I’m posting this a few days ahead of my usual schedule, because I want it to come out before Canadians go to the polls. I beg any person reading this to ask yourself, “What world do you want to live in?” One that remains the Canada that we know and recognise, which is admittedly not perfect, but still values freedom of the press, gun safety laws, public health, social services, diverse human rights, public school funding, and more? Or something that could slide alarmingly into the power hungry surveillance state that started an unnecessary trade war with Canada and continues to threaten our sovereignty as a country?

I know what my answer is. I’m for freedom, in all areas, and for all people. I keep thinking of how many times I’ve gone down the thought exercise road of wondering what I would have done in Germany in the mid-1930s if I’d been alive then. It’s horrifying to recognise and acknowledge that this is no longer a theoretical thought process. It’s now. It’s real.

I don’t want to live in a Canada that aligns itself with authoritarian governments and economies. I want to know that my rights and freedoms are not worth more than anyone else who lives in my country because we might have different skin colours or backgrounds or belief systems. I want a social care network that holds every individual, for none of us know when we might need that help. Freedom is worthless unless it belongs to every citizen of the nation. Otherwise it’s not real freedom.

In every bone of my body I’m longing for a world where we learn to care for everyone around us once again. Where we don’t prioritise our own safety and personal economic success above what other people might need to survive and flourish. Wouldn’t it be lovely to live in a world that believed it was a good and healthy practice to care for everyone in the community instead of just caring about ourselves and our immediate families?

That’s the dream I put into my novel Post Civ. And it’s what I’m dreaming about this month, as Canadians go to the polls to elect a new government. I hope desperately that government is a Liberal one, that will continue to stand up to the authoritarian threats we are facing from our nearest geographical neighbour. We need to consider history with this vote, and veer sharply away from any possibility that brings us closer to losing our freedom of choice and not caring about those who need help and support.

We are all Canadians, more alike than we are different. When voting, please consider the world you want to live in. Don’t gamble with your freedom or mine. Let’s stay united as a country, as far away from authoritarian rule as possible. Let’s remain the true north, strong and free, forever.

In Culture, Nurture, Parenting

How to Talk to Kids About our World

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

How do we talk to our kids about the raging mess that is our current world? A place where young girls are blown up at a concert, rights for women, the poor and immigrants are being stripped away by governments and elected politicians lie routinely about every damn thing under the sun. It’s dark out there, but glossing over it with our kids is not the answer.

Depending on the age of your children, these suggestions may have to be adapted, but the principles remain the same whether you have a preschooler, a tween or an almost-adult about to leave home.

How do we talk to our kids about the world? Here are my best ideas:

Honesty.

Evading, hiding and deflecting are strategies that don’t work. If you are anxious about the news (and if you feel chill and at ease about the world in 2017, you likely aren’t paying close enough attention), your children are, too. If you don’t talk about current events honestly with your kids, they will hear something at school or on the playground or at your in-laws’ barbecue and without some careful context provided by you, your kids are likely to feel way more upset by what they hear because it will carry the added power of secrecy with it.

It’s normal to worry about scaring them unnecessarily or getting your explanation wrong. You may do both but go ahead and talk to them anyway. Build that trust. Plant the seeds for a compassionate response. Know that scary situations are best borne together with the ones you love.

Questions.

Encourage questions. Ask things like, “Why do you suppose she believes that? What do you think will happen as a result of this world event? How do you feel when we talk about this?”

Questions are a beautiful entity. They help children understand that grownups may not have all of the answers, but they are willing to ask hard questions and pool a sense of knowledge for the greater good. Questions also provide a safe route to the hidden nooks and crannies in our hearts. They help us feel less isolated and alone.

Optimism.

This one is tough right now, but it’s important not to leave the discussion with a bleak sense that all hope is lost. Our kids are looking to us to be their lighthouse. We cannot allow them to dash against the rocks in the dark. It’s our job to be open and candid, but also to dig deep and put an optimistic spin on even the saddest, most desperate news story.

Try something alone these lines: “I know this is scary. I feel sad and worried, too. But I know that I am strong and capable and so are you. We will always stick together and show as much love and kindness and compassion to ourselves and to others as possible, and we will be okay.”

I truly wish we had a better state of current affairs so these conversations would be easier. But every one of us must play the cards we are dealt and model this courage to our children. It’s no good denying, hiding, distracting, blaming. Like the greatest heroes in history who have inspired us, it’s time to bravely meet circumstances as they are, with our kids beside us, and change the world by changing ourselves.