When The World’s on Fire, You Don’t Have to Go Quiet. Wanting More Is Still Allowed.
I know we're not "supposed" to publish on Friday afternoons, but I'm fired up. Now more than ever, it's time to carve out a life that works for you – naysayers be damned.
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It’s getting weird trying to move through the world as a Canadian, especially if you're not interested in parking yourself in one place. Flights are vanishing off the map. Routes that were added just months ago with big fanfare are being quietly shelved. Our closest neighbour and ally is suddenly unsafe in every way, making it more difficult and costly to go… well, just about anywhere.
Flair Airlines has pulled out of Nashville, Vegas, Palm Springs… and more are on the chopping block. Air Canada is cancelling routes. Demand is down, and airlines don’t expect it to bounce back anytime soon.
The energy in North America has shifted in big ways.
And you feel that shift as a traveller. It’s harder to plan. There’s more friction getting from here to there… especially if “there” is the U.S., or requires transiting through it. None of us wants to be seized, searched, and potentially wrongfully imprisoned for a few months without so much as a phone call, let alone a day in open court.
There’s tension in the air; political, cultural, financial. Canada's heading into another election cycle and, honestly, it's already exhausting. Everyone’s nerves are frayed. People are lashing out in strange directions.
I’ve had all kinds of people showing up in my inbox and comments these past few weeks to tell me I should stop “being political.” That I should stick to what I know (their perception of that being myopic and misinformed), and that I have no business sharing my thoughts on issues like affordable and accessible housing and healthcare, freedom of expression, and stopping the slide into fascism.
You know… things that impact me and my family every. Damn. Day.
Yes, I’m the editor of a community news publication. We very intentionally focus exclusively on local and leave provincial and federal coverage to the larger outlets.
And yet, I still get told — regularly, loudly, and with increasing anger — that I shouldn’t express thoughts about issues that aren’t even part of my reporting beat. That it somehow makes me “biased” or “too political” to talk about what I actually see happening in my own life, like the ballooning cost of living, increasing censorship, and rampant misogyny being baked back into public policy.
Apparently, it’s political to have a life now.
Let’s be clear: I’m not being called out for crossing some journalistic line.
I’m being told I shouldn’t have opinions. Period.
I’m being told that as a woman with a platform, I’m not supposed to talk about healthcare, or housing, or human rights, even when I’m living those realities, every day. Even when those issues are shaping the choices I make, the risks I take, and the places I can go.
There’s a deep hypocrisy in how media is treated right now. We’re expected to be saviours — to fix broken systems, expose corruption, amplify every voice — while simultaneously being painted as liars, grifters, and enemies of the people. We’re neither. We’re not saints or snakes. But far too often, we’re made the scapegoats for a society unraveling at the seams. It’s easier to shoot the messenger than face the message. And people are lining up to take aim.
It’s not about objectivity. It’s about control. And I’m not playing along.
And so I remind myself, and others: I’m a writer.
Writers are not programmable robots curating experiences to confirm every reader’s worldview. Journalism is one type of writing I do, but it’s not the only kind.
Writing is political because living is political.
Especially when you're doing it with your eyes open. Especially when you're trying (actively, imperfectly) to build a life outside the systems that keep failing us.
I’m going to keep talking about our broken socioeconomic systems, because they’ve gutted entire generations. I’m going to keep writing about the false promises of the North American dream, and how that dream is still being sold to people who already know it won’t save them.
I’m not going to sit quietly and accept the massive wealth hoarding, unhealthy power dynamics, institutionalized gaslighting, and other such fuckery. I won’t pretend it’s normal that billionaires shape public policy while single parents can’t afford rent. I’m not going to act like it’s okay that basic dignity — housing, healthcare, safety — has become a luxury.
That doesn’t make me loyal to any one political party, because they’ve all allowed this to happen. They broke the entire system.
And no, I’m not waiting for a charismatic demagogue to save us either. That’s not happening.
But that doesn’t mean we freeze. That doesn’t mean we stop building.
It just makes me more determined to keep looking for — and writing about — the creative ways people are working around these broken systems.
We can find new ways to live. We have to. Because broken systems produce broken people, and broken people can’t make lasting change until they begin to heal.
So listen up:
You don’t owe anyone the life they expected you to live.
Living differently isn’t glamorous or easy, but it is possible. And sometimes, it’s the only sane response to systems that no longer make sense. You get to choose your own adventure. Not the one they sold you. Not the one that keeps you quiet and compliant. Yours.
If you’ve ever been made to feel ashamed for wanting something different — for questioning the rules, or stepping off the path you were told to follow — I hope this lands as permission. You’re not wrong. You’re not alone. And you don’t have to keep pretending the old systems are working for you.
Sometimes, living differently means losing people along the way. And that’s not nothing. It can be sad, even devastating, when friendships end or we realize we can’t move past these divides with our relationships intact.
But at the end of the day, the only person you have to live with is you.
And if your choices bring you closer to alignment, moving you toward a life that feels more honest and whole, then that matters. That’s enough.
So I’m still planning. Still trying to shape the life I want, even as the ground shifts.
Next up: Mexico City, then briefly to Europe for work. Back to Canada for late spring and early summer (the best time, honestly), and on to Europe for fall.
Estonia is on the agenda, where my business is based, followed by Florence to help lead a women’s experience, and then a few weeks in a 12th-century castle in Normandy that’s been converted into an epic coliving space.
It's not about escape. It's about alignment. And I highly recommend it, even when — especially when — it feels like the world we knew is burning down around us.
So if you’re feeling the pull to do things differently… follow it. That’s not selfishness. It’s survival, and that’s the era we find ourselves in.
Miranda
P.S. I miss you, American friends. It’s sad that we can’t easily connect in New York or Silicon Valley right now, but maybe I’ll see you out there somewhere.
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Here's to women doing things that they aren't "supposed" to do! Fabulous post! Thank you for this. And for what it is worth, please accept this apology from an American friend. I don't recognize who we are in the world anymore. It's hard to put one foot in front of the other in the midst of all that is happening. The hate. The misogyny. The recklessness. Thank you for giving us hope that there is a way to create a beautiful, adventure- filled life beyond our borders!
Love this! So true. Keep being you ;)