Editor's Vision

Opening Introduction By Laurel Sliskovic
Photo By Matt Newfield

It is such a gift to read the stories that the writers within these pages have shared. The emotions, the diversity of experiences, the way they communicate—such individual perspectives weaving into our collective lives. Here in Strathcona, on the traditional territories of Kwakwaka’wakw and Nuu-chah-nulth, we all inhabit the same spaces, we breathe the same salty ocean air, we see the same glorious moon, and the same immense sky. And at the same time, our perspectives are unique and deeply personal. Sharing stories, learning about the lived experiences of our neighbours and friends, creating space in our hearts to empathize with people we may not know, celebrating and honouring the abundance of perspectives in our community—that is what this issue of the Strathcona Collective is about.

Throughout the process of gathering stories and working with this issue’s writers, I have laughed, I have cried, I have sat in stunned silence, and I have felt immense joy—sometimes all at once it seems. These stories have been written by both amateur and experienced authors, and their willingness to put themselves out there gives me a whole lot of feels. And, as we all grapple with the global health pandemic (in addition to a host of other societal issues), I would be remiss not to say that the particular chaos of these times have impacted my thoughts and actions.

It is such a gift to read the stories that the writers within these pages have shared. The emotions, the diversity of experiences, the way they communicate—such individual perspectives weaving into our collective lives. Here in Strathcona, on the traditional territories of Kwakwaka’wakw and Nuu-chah-nulth, we all inhabit the same spaces, we breathe the same salty ocean air, we see the same glorious moon, and the same immense sky. And at the same time, our perspectives are unique and deeply personal. Sharing stories, learning about the lived experiences of our neighbours and friends, creating space in our hearts to empathize with people we may not know, celebrating and honouring the abundance of perspectives in our community—that is what this issue of the Strathcona Collective is about.Throughout the process of gathering stories and working with this issue’s writers, I have laughed, I have cried, I have sat in stunned silence, and I have felt immense joy—sometimes all at once it seems. These stories have been written by both amateur and experienced authors, and their willingness to put themselves out there gives me a whole lot of feels. And, as we all grapple with the global health pandemic (in addition to a host of other societal issues), I would be remiss not to say that the particular chaos of these times have impacted my thoughts and actions. I connect with people best through face-to-face interactions; I volunteer with numerous community organizations; I have multiple jobs; I attend fundraisers,

It is such a gift to read the stories that the writers within these pages have shared. The emotions, the diversity of experiences, the way they communicate—such individual perspectives weaving into our collective lives. Here in Strathcona, on the traditional territories of Kwakwaka’wakw and Nuu-chah-nulth, we all inhabit the same spaces, we breathe the same salty ocean air, we see the same glorious moon, and the same immense sky. And at the same time, our perspectives are unique and deeply personal. Sharing stories, learning about the lived experiences of our neighbours and friends, creating space in our hearts to empathize with people we may not know, celebrating and honouring the abundance of perspectives in our community—that is what this issue of the Strathcona Collective is about.Throughout the process of gathering stories and working with this issue’s writers, I have laughed, I have cried, I have sat in stunned silence, and I have felt immense joy—sometimes all at once it seems. These stories have been written by both amateur and experienced authors, and their willingness to put themselves out there gives me a whole lot of feels. And, as we all grapple with the global health pandemic (in addition to a host of other societal issues), I would be remiss not to say that the particular chaos of these times have impacted my thoughts and actions. I connect with people best through face-to-face interactions; I volunteer with numerous community organizations; I have multiple jobs; I attend fundraisers, celebrations, conferences, and special events. Even with most of these activities altered, we all still have stories to tell, relationships to nurture, and experiences to share. Albeit in modified ways. Reading the stories in these pages, I am reminded that my perspective of life in Strathcona can always be opened up to more listening, more learning, more empathy, and more compassion. From everyday walks to cultural celebrations, from historical influencers to culinary creatives, the writers and stories within the Strathcona Collective demonstrate that a diversity of perspective allows for vibrancy and depth to the lives we live.

It is such a gift to read the stories that the writers within these pages have shared. The emotions, the diversity of experiences, the way they communicate—such individual perspectives weaving into our collective lives. Here in Strathcona, on the traditional territories of Kwakwaka’wakw and Nuu-chah-nulth, we all inhabit the same spaces, we breathe the same salty ocean air, we see the same glorious moon, and the same immense sky. And at the same time, our perspectives are unique and deeply personal. Sharing stories, learning about the lived experiences of our neighbours and friends, creating space in our hearts to empathize with people we may not know, celebrating and honouring the abundance of perspectives in our community—that is what this issue of the Strathcona Collective is about.Throughout the process of gathering stories and working with this issue’s writers, I have laughed, I have cried, I have sat in stunned silence, and I have felt immense joy—sometimes all at once it seems. These stories have been written by both amateur and experienced authors, and their willingness to put themselves out there gives me a whole lot of feels. And, as we all grapple with the global health pandemic (in addition to a host of other societal issues), I would be remiss not to say that the particular chaos of these times have impacted my thoughts and actions. I connect with people best through face-to-face interactions; I volunteer with numerous community organizations; I have multiple jobs; I attend fundraisers, celebrations, conferences, and special events. Even with most of these activities altered, we all still have stories to tell, relationships to nurture, and experiences to share. Albeit in modified ways. Reading the stories in these pages, I am reminded that my perspective of life in Strathcona can always be opened up to more listening, more learning, more empathy, and more compassion. From everyday walks to cultural celebrations, from historical influencers to culinary creatives, the writers and stories within the Strathcona Collective demonstrate that a diversity of perspective allows for vibrancy and depth to the lives we live. Maybe you, like me, will find a common interest or exposure to a new concept through one of these stories. Perhaps you will reach out to one of the writers because their words resonate so deeply within you that you’ll want and need to connect. I hope you’ll be inspired to visit a new place, try a new food, participate in a new activity, and/or support a new business or organization right here in this community. Maybe you’ll write to me and let me know you want to tell your story…

I invite you to truly notice all of the people who have contributed to the pages in this issue. While their perspectives may not be perfectly aligned with yours, each and every story, image, illustration, and advertisement has come from someone right here in the community who wants to be, and is, part of making Strathcona a beautiful place to create, play, and explore. If you’re reading this, you are too. Thank you.