Solastalgia Volume II by Solastalgia Zine

VOLUME II

Eco-Engagement and Climate Action

table of contents Table of Contents ----------------------------------- 2 About Us ------------------------------------------- 3 Acknowledgements --------------------------------- 4 Editor’s Note --------------------------------------- 5 Solar Punk Snails ----------------------------------- 6 DIY: Hugs and Hope -------------------------------- 8 There The Blue Stands To Be ------------------------ 10 Catalysing, Unraveling, Re(creating) : A Mediation on 11 Climate Grief and Hope ----------------------------- 13 You’ll Figure It Out As You Go, Have Faith ------------ 14 From My Rotting Body Flowers Shall Grow ----------- 16 Stormy Feelings ------------------------------------ 17 The Weight of Summer: A Reflection ----------------- 18 Bearings ------------------------------------------- 20 Young Undergrowth -------------------------------- 22 An Industry of Hope -------------------------------- 24 Spiral --------------------------------------------- 27 Wild Animals --------------------------------------- 30 Undrowning --------------------------------------- 32 Love Lessons From Houseplants --------------------- 34 Everything Is Okay --------------------------------- 38 Made for Now ------------------------------------- 42 Credits -------------------------------------------- 43

about us Solastalgia is a youth-led community initiative that aims to amplify intergenerational and youth voices around eco-anxiety and eco-emotions through creative content, and art and land based events. Our aim is to empower more youth to become engaged environmental citizens and build a community platform encompassing zines, interactive eco-workshops, and ecoanxiety support resources. This initiative started from the Apathy is Boring RISE Vancouver Cohort 10 that created a community project focused on eco-anxiety which launched as the Solastalgia zine. Our goal is to normalize the large spectrum of eco-emotions that Canadian youth feel as a result of the ongoing earth crisis. We use artistic mediums as a tool to shift societal norms and tell effective climate stories. Solastalgia is located on the unceded, ancestral lands of the xʷməθkʷəy̓ əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱ wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations. We acknowledge the harms and mistakes of the past, and we dedicate ourselves to move forward in partnership with Indigenous communities in reconciliation and collaboration.

acknowledgements Thank you to all our readers and youth participants who have supported our project by attending our events and taking the time to read our zine! Thank you to all the Canadian artists who submitted and contributed to this zine, this would not be possible without you! Thank you to our community mentors - Swank Collective and Eco-Anxious Stories - who have helped to inform our project whether it be hosting an eco-anxiety workshop or providing design/zine feedback on our project. Thank you to our partner, The Starfish Canada, and funders The Youth Harbour, OceanWise, RADIUS SFU, and Embark Sustainability Society - for making this project possible! With support from Ocean Wise, this project has been created in commemoration of the lives of all the victims of Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302, including two Ocean Bridge ambassadors, Danielle Moore and Micah Messent. We aspire to carry on their legacy and commitment to making the world a better place by creating long lasting impacts with a firm commitment to driving positive change for the environment and our ocean. Sincerely,

editor’s note Dear readers, Welcome to the second issue of Solastalgia! Since our inaugural launch, our team has expanded to continue our work in normalizing eco-anxiety and amplifying youth voices. In partnership with The Starfish Canada the theme of volume II is Eco-Engagement and Climate Action. Here you will find paintings, poems, writing, photos and various artworks from Canadian youth artists. We asked artists to communicate the journey of transforming their emotions into actions in the face of the earth crisis. What gives you energy, agency or a sense of community in the face of our shared reality? Our hope by the end of reading this zine is that you can feel more reassured in knowing that youth climate optimism can exist during the climate crisis. We hope you will feel a greater sense of agency and connection seeing the creativity of youth coast to coast who mobilize their eco-emotions into creative outlets. We also hope this can be a start of many more conversations in your own eco-journey. Renmart Buhay Nastenka Alava Calle Audrey Tong

solar punk snails ARTISANEJEANNE (JEANNOT BAUSET-TREMBLAY) SILVERMANE CREATIONS

When I think of eco-empowerment, community is the first word that comes to me. With community, we have shared knowledge and support that propels us as a society. To become self-sustainable, one must be communitysustainable; where the self is not described as a single individual but rather the collective group. These snails here have adapted to what is already given to them by nature, using elemental energy via solar panels, wind turbines and myceliated soils. I enjoyed painting these climate actions in relation to sustainability, such as crop variety/rotation, healthy soils and renewable energy. Despite the pressing matter of climate change, I have decided to keep my illustration colorful and whimsical, in hopes to convey an inviting aura to the viewer. A scene where the viewer could feel welcomed/encouraged to participate in this needed change that has the potential to provide much growth to the world and the self. ARTISANEJEANNE (JEANNOT BAUSET-TREMBLAY)

DIY: Hugs and Hope LOTTE KAIJA Hug the youth who read this. The Greta's and friends of this world. Community. The youth do not have time for your raised eyebrows. We petition, write and Canva the nights away because the weekends are for clothing swaps, potlucks and reading clubs. Protest. The youth do not have time for your discriminatory slurs and attacks. We sit, strike and shout because silence is not an option. Educate. The youth do not have space for your policing of bodies. We learn, train and organize to bring life to our dreams. Dream. Did you ever dream of designing a feminist walking tour? Do you ever dream of recording a climate podcast series? Will you ever dream of building a forest occupation? Yes, we have and we will. Strengthen. The youth do not blink an eye at attempts of the old white man to silence Greta and friends. We disrupt, revolt and unite our struggles. 8

_______________. The youth do not have ____________ for _________________________________________ ______. We ____________, ____________ and ____________ because _______________________.

Hug the youth who feel this. The Greta's and friends of this world.

This poem was written as a way to cope with how a man attempted to silence Greta Thunberg by diving for her mic onstage at a protest. Hope was still in the air and her calmness carries us gracefully to continue and unite our struggles. LOTTE KAIJA

there the blue stands to be JACOB MCFAULL JJMCFAULLBOOKS There the Blue Stands to Be Breathe solace through smoke, She knows more than you see, Where clouds sicken and choke, There the blue stands to be, Over oceans astir And rivers abloom. Though forests spew fume, The breeze lies with each blow, Where pines smoulder and plume, Ancient green stands to grow, Over those we love close Inspired by the 2023 wildfires, And bless from afar.

There the Blue Stands to Be is about resilience. Through all our mistakes, our planet has— miraculously—continued to support human beings, gifting us yet another opportunity to make things right. It is my belief that doing so will require letting go of divisive ideals and embracing our shared connection with the natural world.

Blame serves not to scar, Roots divide from one seed, Where minds label and mar, Matching red stands to bleed, Over causes well worth And nothing at all. Fear tightens its thrall, And ingrate though our plea, As the smoke starts to fall, There the blue stands to be. 10

catalysing, unraveling, re(creating) : A meditation on climate grief and hope NAOMI LEUNG SAGORIKA HAQUE

In a time of so much global and local fragmentation, this project emerges from our collective grief, fatigue, anger, and hope around moving towards climate justice as Bangladeshi and Han Chinese organizers. Rooted in our practices as facilitators, artists, poets, and storytellers, we are speaking from generational, transnational, interdisciplinary experiences of existing in bodies and borders forced onto the frontlines of climate crisis.

our body is land our skin dirt, our veins roots and rivers. companionship is lifeblood in the ways mycellial networks know how to help each other with whatever they need in the ways we we hold each other reach out to each other, as branches reach out to sun scorched earth, uprooted graves, sinking ancestral homes cities flattened and bombed, generations denied futures what does it mean to erase histories? how do you erase a life? what is the sound of silence? what is the presence of absence? how do you map loss, how do you study loss, how do you hold loss? what does it mean to the mourn the future? what does it mean to desire different ones? as we leave these pages and rooms today, may we remember that history is living, history is breathing, history is being suppressed may we remember that we are living ancestors that we are chapters in the books of our shattered pasts we are writers of our healing futures

may we remember the trees we walk past the dying leaves we step on the water on and in our skin were never separate from us only made separate from us may we remember when we return to the love, humility, reciprocity, and care of the land we are returning to our selves what versions of our selves and our worlds are waiting for us? how do we allow ourselves to embrace their hands? what will we mourn with each other? what will we create with each other? what histories will we right what futures will we write and so who we hope our words will reach as if breath in our lungs, cycles of living and dying within and around us asking us — what are the stories and systems in your skin? what other and othered worlds do you yearn for? and how will we arrive and return there?

You’ll figure it out as you go, have faith NOAH CHECK

Environmental racism is something that is not new or regularly talked about in climate change advocacy circles. I want to shed light on how colonial powers have historical put open pit dumps, incinerators, hazardous waste disposal and many other harmful industrial sites near communities of colour. These communities face the wrath of climate change and their stories often go unheard compared to the other cries for help. Rather than focusing on the lack of solutions, I depict a future where we have acknowledged and fixed the devastations our government has negatively impacted these communities. I depict a dream where a Black girl lays in a grass field trying to catch the sun as it dances across their face. Marigold flowers slowly drift by symbolizing the hope she feels deep inside her chest. As the years pass by, grass grows over her as more and more of her land is reclaimed by her community. She sits and rests as her dream of finally finding a way back home is possible. NOAH CHECK

From my rotting body flowers shall grow SADIE GILKER @SAD.IE.ART

Biomimicry is innovation inspired by nature. My piece acts as a warning. The center is a self-portrait based on Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” Munch has said that "the sun was setting, suddenly the sky turned blood red [...] I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature". I took this scream as nature crying out. The centre of the piece represents the human; messy, complex, and in peril. As we move to the natural world surrounding the face, we see a different kind of composition. Each piece of nature works with the other. This entire piece is hand embroidered. I used more technical aspects of surface embroidery and laid work to represent nature’s perfect form. 16

Stormy Feelings SHANNON POT Shanpot.Wordpress.com

“Stormy Feelings” is a digital artwork of nature nostalgia collaged into a stormy seas quilting pattern. Recalling memories of nature in the micro and macro, the artwork is meant to depict my feelings of love and gratitude for the natural world. Remembering this immediate sensory love reminds me to also express actions of love, and care for the earth I love so much. 17

The Weight of Summer: A Reflection MARINA CHARBONNEAU August is now unchangeable, having rounded The corner to Autumn. August’s wave, one that used to carry a great weight, Has now crawled back to the comfort of the ocean. Wasn’t it just June? Autumn has licked its thick tongue over the face of summer, Leaving a film of relief for some, and others grief. Flames have danced with heavy feet across Canada. In some ways, we are largely connected, the fires and us, Lacking in control, rebelling, destroying, The blame is on them, as it is on us, And as a result: a sour blanket of haze. The sun made it a habit of dragging its tumefied body Northwest against my bedroom door in the evening. A ball of red hanging limp in the sky, lowering. Large, sickly, and fragile. She burns, and so do we. Changing seasons have a unique effect on us all, Slipping and spilling through our fingers, and even so, Winter will come and wrap us in a new intensity, And we will chase a cure, for both us and the Earth, and our future with promise. But first, to sit and revel in the end of another summer. 18

This piece is a reflection on the summer of 2023. Regardless of where you live in Canada, this summer has shown us the severity of the climate crisis. Through this poem, my goal is to depict this season and the climate driven obstacles that came with it (the national wildfires, smoke and intense temperatures) and how despite it all, we will continue to work through a new season, work on lessening the impacts and causes of climate change, and albeit, not as nationally important, but awfully important individually, saying goodbye to August. The image is sourced from unsplashed.com by Landon Parenteau.

MARINA CHARBONNEAU 19

bearings SELENA CARPENTER

I created this piece in a transitional time in my life, when I felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of paths before me. I wanted to capture the feeling of becoming an adult in a turbulent time; being buried under the weight of potential. I ripped apart an old road atlas and pieced it back together to create a maze of disconnected places. Amongst this chaotic atmosphere lies a figure, trying to find her bearings before she disappears. It is hard to begin your life when it is not just your fate that’s unknown, but the fate of humanity and our entire planet. I left a blank space at the top of the piece to show hope; the key to finding your bearings is to not lose sight of that hope. SELENA CARPENTER

young undergrowth HANA AURORA WILSON @NEVER_THEY_PONDER

Growing up amidst the climate crisis, it becomes easy to spiral emotionally. Especially during my time spent in the concrete landscapes of Toronto and Hamilton, where the environment itself seems to reflect our industrial culture of overconsumption. When dealing with these anxieties one way that I find relief is through grounding myself, by focusing my thoughts on a smaller scale, on the environment directly around me. In particular, I’ve found joy in discovering different places in my city, where nature has found ways to thrive. In between the cracks of pavements, forgotten construction sites, and alleyways between buildings, almost spitefully existing, despite the hostile cityscape surrounding it. Starting a year ago, I began to spend a few minutes everyday recording these discoveries, eventually growing a collection of over two hundred photographs. By taking time to recognise these small victories, no matter how seemingly insignificant, I remind myself to keep caring. Using one of these photos as a reference, I created a painting celebrating this daily comfort. I decided to surround the plants with the Asanoha pattern, a traditional Japanese fabric pattern resembling the hemp plant, typically used for children's clothes. This was done in hopes that the child would, like the plant, be resistant and stubborn, surviving into adulthood. I used this symbol in hopes of empowering both myself and other younger generations to stubbornly care, despite everything and fight the appeal of eco-nihilism. If we can find ways to survive and stay grounded, hopefully one day we can improve our situation. HANA AURORA WILSON

an industry of hope QAILA WALJI

The background of my collage moves from clouds of pollution into green foliage and mirrors the tone of the poem I wrote from magazine clippings. Climate anxiety can be an overwhelming feeling but when we learn to cope with it, we create time, energy, and space to take action. Maybe this involves connecting with the natural world by listening to the sound of a stream or waterfall in the mountains. Or, maybe it is the deep feeling of connection when dancing with someone you adore on a Saturday night, whether you’ve just met or have known them for a lifetime. Both of these things - connection and community spark an immense sense of joy that re-energizes me and maintains hopefulness. In a world run by capitalism and corporations, having individual hope can be a radical act. And radical hope is exactly what we need in order to take radical action for a healthier, safer, and just earth. QAILA WALJI

spiral MEL Running through the dense trees Feet pounding the ground All my muscles engaged My breath searches to ignore the smoke filled air My mind takes me to other places Watching our cabin-on-the-lake go up in flames, burning up all those childhood memories Sitting at the base of a drumlin, wishing it would turn into a wave and engulf me, taking me to all the places I’ll never go Running through the endless fields Droplets of sweat slide down the back of my neck Crickets brushing up against my legs Endurance unwavered My mind takes me to other places Face to face with a 100-year-old tortoise whose children will outlive me, and perhaps us all Hunting in the forest, where the rustling of a field mouse sounds like an elephant at your door The sounds of the amazon jungle at night, creatures drowning out the noise inside my head

My mind pulls me out of other places It’s all burning and I cannot stop the fire And I am

S P I R A L I N G

I stop at the exact moment Fibonacci calls out to me When I spiral I become part of Sacred Geometry —————————————————————————————————— Running up a sloped trail I change course [We CAN change course] Knowing that I’ve done the unexpected [We CAN do the unexpected] My mind takes me to new places As the jellyfish floats at the whim of the currents, I’ll float with you, And you’ll float with me

This poem was inspired by my experiences with the direct impacts of climate change being felt in my community - specifically the drought and wildfires. I love to run, travel, and spend time in nature, so I brought in some of my memories and favourite places while also bringing in some of the negative emotions associated with the climate crisis. The poem is meant to be uplifting by suggesting that “spiraling” is part of nature (because of spirals in sacred geometry/fibonacci and them showing up everywhere in the natural world) and that the emotions we feel in relation to the climate crisis are very normal. The ending is also meant to be uplifting, to suggest that we can make a change and work together to address these issues. We need each other and cannot make these changes in isolation. MEL

wild animals BIANCA DEMELO BIANCADEMELO.COM

This comic was inspired by a time I was coming home late at night and saw an owl up close. I was in a pessimistic mood that day but when I saw this owl I felt mesmerized and experienced an emotional connection to it. As humans we tend to set ourselves apart from the natural world, especially in a big city where we are not immersed in it on a regular basis. This event reminded me of my place on earth as a human and I felt a responsibility to care for the environment around me for this owl. When the climate crisis feels overwhelming, moments like this when I am in awe of nature remind me to have hope and keep fighting in any way I can. BIANCA DEMELO

UNDROWNING EMA GELBER

I made this piece during a time when I was thinking a lot about aquatic conservation. The themes of drowning/swimming and interconnectedness seemed innately accessible as a feature of water. Water is a part of, and essential, to all living things. It connects us, but it can also be dangerous - especially with climatechange-driven flooding and extreme precipitation. This piece has four layers of cut paper, which I meant to depict four layers of relationality with water. The black layer is spiritual; the blue layer is physical; the grey layer is evolutionary; and finally, the tan layer shows actions that benefit our relationship with water and actions that destroy it. The two figures represent the paths we can choose. EMA GELBER

Love Lessons from Houseplants ZOBIA ALAM @ZOBIA.ALAM My hands are gloveless. My fingertips dip in and out of a packet of organic soil. I cup a handful of soil in my bare hands, and pour it into tiny pots that dot my windowsill. I burrow some seeds into the soil, and reach for the watering can. A sweet earthy scent fills my room with promises of abundance and growth. I can’t help but wonder, can petrichor be stored in little vials of perfume? I have store-bought ceramic pots full of succulents and lush fern and lilies everywhere. And of course, I have so many little pots of cacti scattered all around my home, by my bed, on my desk, another one on the bookshelf and even one by the door. They’re easy to care for, oddly convenient, and almost never give away. But only recently, lathered in peaty redolence, I’ve begun grow my own. Something about mounding damp soil in between my fingers, patting it down, and waiting for little seedlings to slowly sprout to life makes my heart swell with joy. Some days, I am greeted by a little shoot peeking out of my pink ceramic pot, and an immediate rush of childlike wonder sweeps over me. My heart flutters as I rush to gawk at it. As each green sprout bursts through the soil, a tiny miracle unfolds before my eyes, each more magical than the last. Once a week, I return to the plants on my windowsill. I delicately pluck away the weeds, trim excess branches and sprinkle a touch of fertiliser every now and then. Here, in the quiet corner of my sanctuary, where warm sunlight envelopes me, I attempt to compensate for all the damage done to the flora around 34

us. In a world engulfed by the endless march of deforestation, my makeshift garden becomes a small contribution to the restoration of a balance that nature so desperately needs. It is in this moment, that I truly understand the sheer power of an individual act of preservation, no matter how seemingly small in the grander scheme of things. My fingers work with unbridled purpose, guided by habit and intuition. With each rhythmic movement, I am reminded of our collective role in safeguarding the planet. I feel more deeply grounded in this gardening communion, almost as if the very essence of life flows through me. I allow myself to lose track of time, to wholly immerse in the garden that rests on my windowsill, to reciprocate a fraction of the gifts that nature has bestowed upon me. And amidst a gathering of green souls, I find abundance and bliss. This humble act of nurturing my houseplants takes me back to the idyllic garden of my childhood home. I remember returning home from the garden, caked in mud from head to toe, with a wide grin across my face. I remember chasing butterflies, creating fairy houses with dried flowers, and rolling in the grass, as eight-year-olds often do. But I also remember conversing with a baby bulb, thumbing another one gently and cooing encouragements at the newly sprouted seedlings, as if we shared some deep unspoken bond. Some days, I’d crouch under the banana plant for shade, and watch as my grandmother conspired with the gardener to dream up violet orchids, birds of paradise, oleanders, Arabian jasmine buds and the largest hibiscus flowers in every possible colour. I would listen intently, my eyes wide with admiration, for I dreamed of growing a garden just like hers one day – so pristine, so paradisal, so utterly full of love. At least twice a week, my grandmother would parade me around in the square of her garden, teaching me binomial nomenclature long before I learned it at school. “Hibiscus rosa-sinesis, Ocimum tenuiflorium and Rosa rubingosa”, she’d enunciate with a gentle smile, glowing with pride. For lunch, we would gather vegetables from my grandmother’s garden. 35

I’d crouch in the mud as she plucked juicy red tomatoes and pulled out carrots from beneath the loosened soil. We’d carefully select curry leaves, holy basil, mint and coriander for all my grandmother’s elaborate recipes. We’d come back into the house, and I’d rinse the leaves so we could store some away in a little box. The rest were tossed into a pot of gently simmering oil, infusing the house with a delightful aroma, setting up a much-awaited meal for four. Now, as I sit by my own little pot of holy basil, positioned by the window, I gently pluck two leaves and crush them in between my thumb and index finger. A sweet, minty fragrance embraces me with familiarity, taking me back to the garden of my childhood home. The little slice of paradise where I planted seeds of joy, and abundance bloomed from dew-kissed flower buds. Where all I knew of the world were rows of marigold and fresh mango chunks. A place where I first fell in love with the wonders of nature and all it has to offer. The garden taught me patience as I nurtured little seedlings into bright green fronds. It taught me resilience when each plant emerged more vibrant than ever after a storm. But most of all, it taught me how to care for another. In my grandmother’s garden, time seemed to standstill as I danced with the petals and whispered to the trees. A sacred sanctuary just for me, where love was boundless and joy blossomed all year round. Now, once a year, when I return home to my grandmother’s garden, I bring her a small packet of seeds. Just like our timeless ritual, we sift through the soil, sow the seeds and then come back every morning to water the newly sprouted leaflings. I sit in my favourite spot, right under the canopy of the banana tree. I consider the glisten and shimmer of the warm afternoon sun. A gentle streak of light soaks through the banana leaves – a routine yet glorious affair between the earth and the sun – a gift from one celestial being to the other. I look up at the leaves, and the patterns draw me in. In this state of bliss, I’m so deeply aware of the resemblances between us, and the world around us. It’s almost as if I’m 36

witnessing an ethereal phenomenon grounded in reality. The veins of the leaf, and the intricacies of the tree bark mirror the fractals within my own body – the trail of my veins and arteries, my pumping bloodstream, my beating heart. I am rooted in the very essence of life that flows within, and around me. As I ruminate on the tree canopy above my head, I know this is what we are truly destined to protect and love fiercely. This, is where I truly belong, where I’m meant to be. Here, in my own terrestrial paradise, I’m wholeheartedly in harmony with my being.

"Love Lessons from Houseplants" is a deeply personal prose that traces my journey of nurturing plants and immersing myself in the sacredness of nature. From lessons I learned in the garden of my childhood home to the gentle act of tending to houseplants, my work explores the deeply intimate bond between humanity and the environment. It serves as a reflection of our innate connection with nature and the collective responsibility to preserve its sanctity. ZOBIA ALAM 37

Everything is okay ALEXIA

The sun shines down on me as I lay in the tall, tickly grass, I breathe in deeply, and everything is okay. The sun gleams high above me in a bright blue sky, I breathe out slowly, and everything is okay. I watch scattered fluffy white clouds floating lazily around the sky, I breathe in deeply, and everything is okay. The bright afternoon sun warms my skin I breathe out slowly, and everything is okay. The warmth from the sun touches my soul, setting it ablaze, As I breathe in the world around me and know everything is okay. As she lays in that tall tickly grass, she closes her eyes to the bright yellow sun above her. From behind closed lids she sees dancing lights, sparkling yellows and quick reds flash, as the sun puts on a show just for her. The grassy field she lays in, is bright and green, with flecks of purple around her from the tall bunches of wild lavender that grew there. She takes in a breath, deep through her nose, inhaling the smell of the fresh air around her and instantly a wave of calm washes over her. She breathes out, a slow gust of hot air escaping her lips. I open my eyes and stand up from that place, Getting ready to move forward with peace. 38

As I walk through life, I move with hope. Knowing not every day will be perfect, But a perfect moment can be found in each day. There is beauty in the everyday; The laughter of children Hugs from loved ones Whispers of a memory almost forgotten These little things bring a smile to my face As I stand up, and leave this place. Recently she learned the truth of her past, my family's past. The real truth, hidden in Canadian Cruelty – should she trademark that? – was overwhelming to accept at first. Residential schools and stolen land, stolen names and hidden children…she wanted to cower, cry, scream at how wrong this world can be, the hurt it can do to people. Instead, I take in that deep breath, And remind myself that everything will be okay. I look for that beauty in the world Actively I look, and uncover the beauty well hidden. Barefoot I walk through the tickly grass Inhaling that sweet grass and lavender smell I let my own inner child laugh Dancing in circles under the hot yellow sun My soul is nourished thinking of the power Of my beautiful, strong and resistant ancestors. 39

That power lingers today, In social movements grown bigger than the individual In acts of love celebrated in the face of hate In times of teaching where there exists wilful ignorance The power is continuing to move forward with hope. Power also lies in; Finding joy Finding love Finding peace No – Power lies in; Creating joy. Creating love. Creating peace. Power knows the trauma of my past, my families past, Power chooses to move forward with hope. Power is being positive, When the world is filled with negativity. Power is finding the perfect moment in each day, Knowing that each day is inherently, imperfect… She finds herself seeking moments of quiet and peace, in order to actually feel at peace. She looks for the beautiful moments in life and chooses to bask in them like she basks in the sun. She listens for, and hears the laughter of children and lets out her inner child to dance for a moment. Giggling in whirling, twirling circles, her inner child soars. She listens to loud music, happy music, dancing music. She falls in love and her soul burns along with the midday sun. After twirling and whirling and giggling and laughing and loving she falls back into that tall tickly grass… 40

Connecting back to culture and confronting generations of trauma was such a hard and complex journey for me, familial loss was so hard to contend with and was earth shattering for a bit. Connecting back to the land and committing myself to being a caretaker helped with those feelings of grief and loss so much and reminded me that everything is okay. Still when I connect to the land in that good way, I feel so good and so at peace. ALEXIA @LETTERSTOTHELAND 41

made for now Solastalgia x Quill Collective Dance Project Entitled “Made for Now”, this piece is about creating a positive sense of community and optimism when it comes to creating a sustainable and healthy home. Why wait until tomorrow to work on ourselves when we were made for now? CARLO ATIENZA

SCAN TO WATCH 42

credits Front and Back Cover Art Renmart Buhay, Nastenka Alava Calle Featured Artists Alexia, Bianca Demelo, Emanuelle Gelber, Hana Aurora Wilson, Jacob McFaull, Jeannot Bauset-Tremblay, Lotte Kaija, Marina Charbonneau, Mel Wilk, Naomi Leung, Noah Check, Qaila Walji, Sadie Gilker, Sagorika Haque, Selena Carpenter, Shannon Pot, Zobia Alam Solastalgia Team Audrey Tong, Bryan Luu, Nastenka Alava Calle, Nicole David, Priscilla Lam, Rachel Lin, Renmart Buhay, Sayemin Naheen, Yiming Zhang Email: solastalgiazine@gmail.com Website: gensolastalgia.com Instagram: @gensolastalgia