The Origin
I was in Biology, half-heartedly listening to a lecture on the cardiovascular system when I decided to tune out and go on my phone. With nothing particularly exciting to do, I began reading a news article
I'd been recommended on Apple News. I remember briefly glancing up at the lecture slides out of guilt and seeing a particularly graphic image of the human heart, which only strengthened my resolve
to abandon the ship of paying attention. At face value the article was definitely nothing particularly riveting but at least it wasn't distressing. It chronocled a neighbourly feud, someone had converted their front yard into a pollinator garden,
the kind that served pollinators first at the expense of visual appeal. This had offended the home owner association's aesthetic sensibilities which prompted a standoff.
I can't remember who won but I hope it wasn't the side that overstepped their authority and tried to stamp out someone's harmless side project. It's pretty
clear the article writer shared a similar sentiment because at the end of the article there was an advert promoting PollinateTO: a grant awarded by the city of Toronto for groups seeking
to build pollinator gardens within their local community.
At the time, my understanding of and passion for the protection of pollinator populations was limited and mild at best. I knew that they were the backbone of agriculture and so I had them
to thank all the food we eat, but when you're on the opposite end of the supply chain from the bees, you're abstracted away from their importance and it's difficult to summon the care you
know you should have. The good thing is, you don't have to be feel the full force of passion for an issue to contribute to its alleviation. So8res has a fantastic blog
post about this: On Caring. The tldr is that the human mind only has so much caring bandwidth, the true
scope of big problems is beyond our comprehension and so if you feel even an iota of an urge to move through this world while making it better, I implore you to try to do so. My favourite
point of theirs is how we commend bravery despite being scared, and so we should similarly praise effort in the face of indifference.
I wish this wisdom would have found its way to me sooner, maybe I wouldn't have felt like a fraud for so long for trying to do good for something I wasn't all in about. If you're
still feeling this way, just know that it's a far more honourable role to assume than someone who feels or claims to feel deeply for something that they make no tangible effort to improve
the situation of, despite being in a position to do so.
Sowing
The most beautiful things are created by a community. I'm so incredibly grateful to my Philosophy and Biology teachers whose help I enlisted in drawing up a grant proposal on behalf of our school,
and the members of my school's community, that stepped up to the plate to cultivate something special. After submitting our proposal, we were successful in our bid and were awarded
~$4,000 to build two pollinator gardens in the front yard of my high school. The PollinateTO grant required the gardens to be public-facing, but that that was a given from the very beginning. Partly why
I was excited about the pollinator gardens was because I was inspired by my neighbour's endless devotion to their garden. I like to think that I'm one of the many lucky beneficiaries of their hard work,
and I wanted that to be the case for Runny(bee)de as well. We all deserve beauty.
Reaping
There are so many things I can point to if you were to ask me what I love about this side quest, but the thing my heart makes my heart skip a beat the most is the fact that these are perennial. If it all goes to plan and the garden
maintenance plans we worked on are upheld by even a couple of devoted students, these gardens we've co-created will bloom annually. It brings me great joy to think about how this scheme cooked up on a whim will be enduring,
and students decades later will be able to appreciate the fruits of our labour far into the future. I'm so humbled by the potential longevity of this small endeavour; I hope everything I do from now outlives me. If there's
anything this project has taught me, it's to do what is long-term and meaningful, your work should breathe life into the world even long after you've taken your last.
