We can continue, today, to bring Darwin and God to the same table. I know the place of evolution in scientific knowledge. My left brain understands it completely. It's the right brain; the one that experiences all boundaries slipping away, that lets me imagine the hand of God, the ultimate artist working behind the scenes.
Despite breakthroughs in Franken-foods and robotic technology, science hierarchies employ the same age-old formula against women where a bumpin' body takes centre-stage over a beautiful mind. Have Einstein's IQ? Cool. But don't you dare look like him; and if you're heading down the family way, smack on the cocoa butter, prance like a photo shopped yummy mummy --two days after birth, because that is the rule -- and whip up that killer tuna casserole. Pronto.
I first met Wakefield last year during the first People's Poetry Festival. He struck me as a larger than life character with a magnetic energy which compelled people to listen to every word he spoke. In discussions with him he revealed that he had come from Toronto, firstly for love, and secondly for the opportunity to connect with a new audience. He is like a pioneer of sorts in the world of spoken word and has been largely welcomed into its circles in Calgary.