​​Nothing says summer and fun like a great hot dog. In the spirit of eating together and building community, Green Wood will offer free hot dogs at Memorial Park (beside Port Hope Town Hall) on Thursday evenings (5:30-6:30 PM) throughout the summer. Drop by to say hello. We're there as part of the Road to Cultivate concert series at the bandshell (music starts at 6 PM). 

Shane Koyczan, internationally acclaimed poet and spoken word performer, has offered some much-needed hope for a better tomorrow through his recent video performance, 'Tomorrow'. Earlier this year he released the poem on YouTube speaking a message of hope for what 2022 could bring.

“Stockpile hope like toilet paper,” he says. But he also says it will take time to heal. The way out of this is with love, Koyczan says. With his powerful words, Koyczan says “there will be a tomorrow, there will be dancing, dating, live concerts, beaches and Ferris wheels, open mic and art.”

Green Wood Coalition is thrilled to be presenting Shane Koyczan live in Port Hope, this summer. The beautiful and historic Port Hope United Church will echo with Koyczan's voice, backed by the musicians of The Short Story Long. Truly a remarkable and memorable evening for our community. Tickets are only $33 (plus applicable fees). 

 
​“I can come to art group and they’re my family,
they know who I am, my struggles, my strengths, they know me. 
Being in a group of people that I feel genuinely care about me is
sometimes just what I need in my week, because
​sometimes that’s the only time when I feel I get that."
--Linzie Mark 

​Call them survivors. Linzie Mark, Dar Denis and Jenn Pridham are three members of Green Wood Art Hive who, finally this spring, returned to the weekly art sessions after two long years apart. In that time, all came to understand that the creativity and human connection the group nurtures are powerful forces in their lives they hope never to lose again. The women sat down to talk about what they missed, what returning means and how art heals. 

Green Wood: What one word best describes the impact of art in your life and why? 

Dar: LIFELINE. When I do my art it’s the only time I’m totally focused and the world goes away. There’s no problems, I’m focusing on my piece, it’s like a meditation to me. Art is my life on canvas. 
Linzie: MAP. I actually have PTSD, and years ago I was not functioning, wouldn’t even leave my bedroom to go the bathroom... when I look back at some of the pieces I did in that time period, they’re a map, a true map to taking that trauma and processing it through my brain. As you lay them out years later you can see, wow, this is how I was feeling and this is how I processed these emotions at this time in my life.  
Jenn: CELEBRATION. To me that’s the point and the purpose. Art becomes the celebration of what you’ve moved through, what you’ve gone through and, even if it’s for a moment, to come to the other side and be able to breathe some relief and have this piece to honour. Art is something to honour where you’ve come from and inspiration for where you’re going, because you’re leaving behind this trail of beauty.  ​

Green Wood: What did it feel like not to have the group over the past two years? 

Dar: I could see the difference in myself. Like the flow was gone. I started to do art during the pandemic because I knew it was going to help me, but I reached a point where I just stopped. I get stuck sometimes, and that’s not healthy for me. 
Jenn: During the pandemic when there was no art group, I could see there was this basic need that wasn’t met any longer, like a starvation almost, like a creative starvation. I’ll quote this book, Women who Run with the Wolves, that talks about the creative life being like a river, and how it can become a drought, contaminated, damned, blocked, so to take care of that creative life is like the care of a river. 
Linzie: When we don’t have art group it’s a barrier for sure. Some people in our group don’t have supplies, so especially during the pandemic when a lot of people where hurting financially, for them to have to reach out to find and buy supplies, it’s not a possibility for everybody.  

Green Wood: Would you explain art as healing? 

Linzie: For me art is about creativity, getting to understand different perspectives and different points of view and exploring within yourself -- do I like that in me, do I not like that in me? And maybe you have to disconnect from your own world, dive into your piece and really say goodbye to your world for that time you’re working on it, because you’re in a different world. 
Jenn: These little seeds of ideas or the beginning of projects start, for me, in the pain. The nuggets of creativity start with something that is very raw and wordless and unclear and complex, and then when your hands get involved and materials and something concrete is accessible, that’s when it becomes the story that’s visible or audible. There’s something sharable there, something that is food for connection, not even in the finished product, but in the process of art. 
Dar: Sometimes when I do art I feel angry, sometimes when I do art I cry, sometimes I just have to walk away and take a break, and say, okay, I’ll look at that later or tomorrow. To me it’s kind of like baring my soul, and I’m a very private person. I used to hide all my art, but that’s when I always hid myself.  

Green Wood: What is the role of Art Hive in your life?  

Linzie:  Art group is my family. I don’t have a traditional family, and I can come to art group and I can be me, not somebody I think they want me to be. They know who I am, my struggles, my strengths. I go because I need that support emotionally. People don’t necessarily know they’re giving it, but just being in a group of people that I feel genuinely care about me is sometimes just what I need in my week, because sometimes that’s the only time when I feel I get that. 
Dar:  Other than my home it’s the safest place. I don’t feel judgment, I don’t feel any negative emotions. Not everyone’s perfect, we all have our issues, we all have our stories, but it’s always been a safe place.  
Jenn: And then there’s the conversation within the group and the sharing between other members, other people who love art, do art... the conversations that occur encourage you that you’re not alone, and there’s this realizing that there are a lot of similarities, like experiences, common ground and connections. You come to realize it’s just this field of acceptance that’s possible.   

​Green Wood: What would you like to leave with people?  
​
Dar: Your art doesn’t have to be great, it doesn’t even have to be good because you’re putting stuff inside yourself out there. I think we’re all good at stuff, and if you enjoy...that’s the main thing, taking some time out for yourself and having fun doing it. 
Linzie: I hope people would feel comfortable enough to put aside any art ability they think they may or may not have. If there is somebody out there reading this who’s been struggling through the pandemic emotionally, mentally, physically, come be our friend. Even if it has nothing to do with the art, come see what we’re all about, get to know some of us, come be part of a community and, hey, if you learn an art skill along the way, perfect. If you make a new friend, even better. Because that, I think, is really what art group is all about.  
Jenn: I‘ve had to come to terms with the limitations of time and lifestyle and how it’s not always possible to sit down and create something on a canvas from start to finish. So the journey of art for me has become more of the observer of the art that’s everywhere, the art of one breath, the art of the sights of nature, simply. And so I’ve taken a lot of the pressure off to complete anything and rather just be grateful for each moment. It’s not about perfection. It’s about intention and being a part of something meaningful. 

To our fellow community members,

Shelter in place. It’s the directive to seek safety indoors to avoid harm when an emergency strikes, usually associated with a major weather event or similar threat. Yet in Cobourg, and across Northumberland County, the emergency leaving folks desperately seeking shelter these days is the ongoing housing crisis.
 
This summer, while many folks choose to camp for recreation, others will camp for survival. Many have already spent cold, damp months in tents and vehicles, scattered and hidden throughout town, frequently forced to ...
[Please click here toe read the whole letter and sign, in solidarity with our neighbours]​

“It’s important to understand that if you have values that include community and people, and you want your neighbour to live in dignity and with respect, and if you’re feeling the heaviness and the weight of the pandemic, then I think you should presume you are feeling moral distress. You should take the time to think about yourself and how you’re feeling.”

      -Beth Sheffield, Developmental Services Facilitator and Green Wood Coalition founding member
 
AT SOME POINT over the last two years it all may have started to feel like too much. Heaviness, is how Beth Sheffield, a Developmental Services Facilitator and Durham College teacher, describes it. Then, in the course of recent mental health training, she learned its name: Moral Distress.

Moral distress is a feeling of exhaustion, sadness or anxiety arising when you see something that is wrong but are powerless to fix it. First documented in nurses in the 1980s, it was later broadened to include anyone working in caregiving. Its relevance today to COVID-19 and what many of us are feeling is inescapable.

Consider what we’ve learned about the inequities the pandemic exposed -- how those who are homeless, experiencing food insecurity or living with mental and physical disability suffered disproportionately, how access to social and health supports was severely curtailed and how inadequately funded nursing homes proved fatal to our elderly, as sons and daughters looked on helplessly. Is it any wonder we feel moral distress?  

Add to this the endless media bombardment of how bad things were as we sat at home, forced to surrender activities and volunteer roles that gave meaning and purpose to our lives.
In an essay circulated this month to 3500 Christian Horizons employees reflecting on the pandemic,
​Beth writes, “It is almost as if this virus has been designed to separate us from each other.”

As a founder of Green Wood Coalition whose lifelong commitment, with husband, David, has been to work for inclusion, social connection and every person’s right to live in dignity, Beth shared her reflections on moral distress and where we will find hope.​

Green Wood: You work with staff who support people in independent living settings. How would you describe the moral distress these workers experienced?

Beth Sheffield: In my essay, I explain this: As an organization, we believe in the dignity and worth of every person, regardless of intellectual or physical disability. We demonstrate that worth by working tirelessly in our communities to support people in the pursuit of inclusion, whether by going to the neighbourhood coffee shop each week, where the person is known by name, supporting a person in pursuit of their employment goals, or helping someone connect to family they did not know they had. None of this has been possible during the pandemic, so the depth of grief and sadness we feel should almost be an expected outcome.

Green Wood: You spent the past year conducting interviews -- 137 in all -- with staff and those they support about the pandemic’s impact. How would you summarize what you learned?

Beth Sheffield: This has been a very difficult time for people with intellectual or developmental disabilities. They were grouped with long-term care and presumed to be at great risk, so super sad things happened, like people were made to give up their paper routes -- of course, with the best of intentions to keep them safe -- but just so hard. Now, when restrictions are lifting, those routes are no longer available. Or people who swam three times a week were told the pool is closed so they were unable to have any physical activity over this entire time and will never gain that strength back. To hear these stories of great sadness from people or their loved ones has been so heavy, but I also feel honoured. 

Green Wood: Given what you’ve seen among frontline workers, is it legitimate to presume others, on the fringes, could experience moral distress?

Beth Sheffield: Yes. If we believe in community then, absolutely, every one of us should be having this struggle and feeling this distress. Of course, there may be different levels, but I think it’s all of us. If we care about our neighbour, then we are going to feel it. Giving words to it has helped me to process and think through it, to know that I’m not alone in this discomfort and that we have hope for better days ahead.

Green Wood: Organizations like Green Wood had hundreds of volunteers when the pandemic struck -- people who cooked for community dinners or helped with programs. As these roles were taken from them, they sat at home, seeing a need they could not help to fill.  What would you say to them?

Beth Sheffield: The first thing to understand is that you are not alone in feeling this sadness and sorrowfulness. It will take time for us to heal again. This has been a long journey. So whether it’s children who are behind in where they should or could be, whether they’ve just not had opportunities their siblings have had to go on class trips or to see their teacher’s face, or for the students I teach at Durham College who are graduating and, potentially, in the face-to-face role of support worker who have never been face to face, I think it’s all of us. You should take time to think about yourself and how you’re feeling. Practise self care, go for a walk, get some fresh air, try to sleep at night, try to eat nutritious food. When we take care of our bodies it really does help our mental and emotional health.

Healing resources are available at the following links:
https://www.camh.ca/en/health-info/mental-health-and-covid-19
https://apps.who.int/iris/bitstream/handle/10665/331901/9789240003910-eng.pdf