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... A precious and literally lifesaving part of my early childhood were long periods spent living in the deep woods. Being able to step outside a household riddled with the unhealthy appetites and actions of wounded adults and into a completely uncontrived environment that felt whole and natural, unforced and brimming with life to which I knew I too belonged was a crucial part of my ultimate survival. It was directly from the Earth that I recieved healthy nurturance in my young life. ( quoted in The B Teresa Ham el Ecopsychology Newsletter Issue 4 Fall 1995)

Only a ten minute uphill walk gave me refuge from the exhaustchoked streets of Abbotsford, but more importantly, from the trials of life which we all face and lend to exhaustion. The green leaves cleared my consciousness, the air was fresh and once again I felt recharged and alive. The trail petereq ahead and I was met with an enormous rockface. Small caves had been carved out by years of rainfall and the trees stood with an eternal guard. Walking around the bottom in some of the caves, gnarled roots began to take on the faces of old weathered trolls. I could see the faces of the earth gnomes grinning their crevice smiles. Have I stirred your soul yet?

I guess I feel some need to explain the reverence I feel for these breath-taking natural cathedrals. Most of this land is being developed for housing and I want you to visit this place, this kind of place, before it is dismantled. I sorely wish you could visit this kind of place anytime and anywhere you need a breath of solitude.

Green spaces are increasingly rare or marginalized and have failed to become retreats for the mind and body. That piece of manicured lawn with a park bench unceremoniously placed on the comer of Peardonville and Clearbrook will not suffice. Such 'parks' are created at best, for aesthetic value, and at worst, an odd piece of land that is not economically viable. It seems the point of a park has been missed: parks are for reflection, to connect with the world which came before us, yet which we have stemmed from. In my opinion, for all our environmental conscience, real green space has not been revered. The solace of McKee Peak can

Bureacrac At Its Most Pathetic

not compared to the fluorescent din of your local mall. It seems, to many North-Americans, that parks are merely recreational, places only accessible by car and then, only once in a while, and I have met people (you know, the ones who use their middle finger gratuitously) who could use an urban detox every evening.

To leave my home, with a small backyard trail, to live in a box without access to anything else but surburbia, I cringe. To think that one day after the dinner dishes are done I will have nowhere to think, nothing to look at that is not made by people. I will have no place to wipe the dust from my mind. Canada is so young and dynamic, we could set the pace in urban renewalsustainability. We do not have to settle for a Starbucks coffee and a view of the parking lot now. (to be continued in the next issue- Ask for it by name!)

admissions office. She straightened out the situation; Mike was able to transfer sections without losing money or the hassle of having to withdraw and re-enrole himself.

The 'registration personel' listened to the professor but not the student. Students do not want to have to drag their professors to the admissions office every time they think they are being swindled.

On the first day of classes, you hope everything will go smoothly. After a summer of toiling for tuition, relaxing on vacation, or babysitting your television, the last thing you need are problems at school.

Mike Love, a fine arts student at UCFV, was hoping for a hasslefree day on Tuesday, September 3, but he realized he wanted to change the section of his photography class.

Thinking this would not be a major problem, Mike went to the admissions office to transfet: from Ssection 'A' to Section 'B'. The 'registration personel' told Mike he could not transfer the course. Instead, Mike would have to withdraw from this class and then re-enrole himself into the same class, in a different section. By changing sections this way, Mike would recieve onl 75% of his money back from withdrawing, as the other 25% is kept for 'processing fees', if the student withdraws after the scheduled registering time. Mike would then have to pay more money to re-enrole himself into the same class, which he just withdrew from!

Confused over how complicated this process was, Mike talked to his professor about the situation. His professor thought the entire process was bizare and made a personal appearance in the

This Issue's Sign That There Is A Conspiracy Us

The Clam Chowder Incident:

One day we both decided to eat Campbell's Chunky Clam Chowder for supper. Chris had bought his at Costco while I had purchased mine at the local Save-On Foods. Upon comparison we noticed the labels illustrated very different versions of what the chowder consisted of. Chris's (see diagram A) was more of a soup, with small chunks of potato and clam meandering around in a bow 1. My label ( diagram B) however, was a depiction of real chunks of clam and potato- almost a bit much in my opinion. Upon furthur investigation, we noted that the ingredients, weight and all that sort of stuff was the same-only the picture differed.

So we opened both cans up, poured the contents in similar bowls and compared. We found that the consistency of the Chowder was almost exactly the same; neither too runny or too chunky, just plain stew. Now, maybe this seems trivial, but why the hell did they have to give me a can depicting steroid-like foods and Chris gets a can of runny soup? We know why. Do you?