When walking down Robson Street in downtown Vancouver, I experience many different aspects of the unique Canadian multicultural lifestyle. From fresh Japanese sushi to frozen African plantain, the range of different ethnicities found on Robson Street, alone, is inspiring. Today, multiculturalism in Canada has become a glory and success. In a country of racial and ethnic acceptance, Canadians have gained an identity; one that is composed of many different backgrounds, cultures, beliefs, and values.
My family immigrated to Canada in the winter of 2000. It was a cold, rainy February day. After arriving at the Vancouver International Airport from Beijing, China, and seeing the Canadian First Nations sculptures that were stationed in the airport for the first time, I was immediately full of curiosity and excitement. Yet, having grown up in a traditional Beijing family and living there for nine years, I also missed my friends and family back home. After settling down, my first experiences with the Canadian educational system were welcoming. The staff and students at my first Canadian elementary school were exceptionally warm and supportive. There were specific English as a Second Language (ESL) teachers whom assisted me in every way possible to overcome the language barriers. Government-funded services such as the United Chinese Community Enrichment Services Society (S.U.C.C.E.S.S.) had also provided new immigrants like my family, free of charge, with job opportunities and ESL training.
Some argue that Canadians have struggled to define their true identity, while concurrently defending and separating themselves from the Americans and British. According to Helen Gordon McPherson, we “Canadians haven’t had time to become Canadians.” The fact that “Canadians have been so busy explaining” to the rest of the world what we are not, indicates that from an outside point of view, little is know about what really makes up the Canadian identity; thus often misleading to degrading stereotypes. Only by taking time to re-educate ourselves first, can we then stop explaining what we are not, but what we really are. To quote Julia Luttrell, while “Canadians have shaped out of the North American wilderness [as] one of the most privileged societies on the face of the earth… [and] have long been known as one of the most tolerant, progressive, innovative, caring and peaceful societies in existence”, we need to realize that as Canadians, we must sustain the international image of Canada as a caring and peaceful nation. Due to a series of recent diplomatic decisions influenced by the American dominance on the global stage, the current Canadian government is beginning to change our positive image. What strongly differs the Canadian identity from that of our American neighbour, is that Canada was established relatively peacefully and had learned earlier on to tolerate and accept the “diversity and character of our people”.
Canada, as a nation, does have its own unique identity. It is the only country in the world to have adopted multiculturalism as an official policy (the 1971 Multiculturalism Policy of Canada). Canada would not be the country it is today if it were not for all the immigrants from all over the world that built and influenced our country’s foundation. The Canadian identity is unique in many ways in that people of all cultures and backgrounds are free to contribute and share their part of the Canadian experience. No matter what one’s ethnicity, beliefs, or values are, he/she is always accepted and added to this rich diversity of cultures.
Without ignorance, rarely comes hate. Without acknowledgment, seldom comes acceptance. With a share in all different cultures, comes knowledge and an identity. Only through knowledge, through learning, can we truly appreciate the diverse cultures that engulf us. United as one, multiculturalism brings together people of countless backgrounds, and identifies us all as Canadians. I am lucky to be in Canada, and proud of being a Canadian.
30.Mar.07 
Writing 
Comments (18)
A lively honey bee buzzes around a white English daisy on a hot summer morning. Satisfied by the plentiful nectar, she dances joyfully, from one flower to the next. A few yards away, William Renwick hauls in heavy buckets of crystal-clear water for his neatly-kept English-style garden. He wears a pair of worn-out trousers, a simple, sweaty and dirt-stained shirt, and an apron around his waist. Slightly tanned by the embraceable sunshine, Mr. Renwick wipes the sweat off of his wrinkled forehead, straightens his sore, aged back, and heads back into his simple countryside residence.
Being an avid reader of The Manchester Guardian, Mr. Renwick shares similar left-wing views with the editorials, and supported the paper’s unpopular opposition of the Second Boar War in 1899. At 60 years of age, Mr. Renwick has witnessed a number of pointless wars in his lifetime. He has seen the destructive results of them all. It is now July of 1914, almost three weeks after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria. Being an avid newspaper reader who keeps up-to-date with international current events, Mr. Renwick clearly realizes another potential threat of a catastrophic war. The entire world holds its breath while an Ultimatum is to be issued. Mr. Renwick is sick of seeing the growth in nationalism, militarism, colonialism, and alliances world wide.
Mr. Renwick picks up a copy of the day’s newspaper, and searches through the contents impatiently. He folds away the paper and sighs after finding out no more about Austria-Hungary’s response of the assassination than he did the day before. Mr. Renwick sighs once more. He gets up and stands next to the small window in the kitchen. He sees skies of blue, clouds of white. This is the beginning of another beautiful summer’s day.
The doorbell rings…
30.Mar.07 Writing Comments (2)
The Ten Peaks, with melting snow sliding down its graceful, sandy slopes, wake up from a long hibernation. At his majestic feet, the crystal-clear waters of Moraine Lake thoughtfully reflect the energetic blue sky. It was another frosty summer morning in the Banff National Park. A pair of lonely pine trees, thought to be sisters, sat across from the lake and watched in awe at the breath-taking view of the Canadian Rockies; full of rich promise for the summer’s day…
30.Mar.07 Writing Comment (1)
It produces a beautiful and unique sound that no other instrument can truly match; ranging from a deep, expressive tune to a flight of soaring, melodious harmonics, a saxophone’s ability to sing heart-warming songs still amazes me till this day.
I was first introduced to this extraordinary instrument back when I was just a little boy of seven years. At once, I fell in love with its eye-grabbing features: a set of keys spaced out creatively at unique angles, with a golden coating reflecting back glamorous sparkles of light. Right away, I was curiously attracted to learn all about this wonderful instrument. No matter the freezing rain, scorching heat, nor even sickness, I have never missed a single saxopone lesson. Why, and where did this courage come from? It came from music itself. Music has provided me what others can not - an imaginative blank space full of liveliness, determination, and potentials. This is my world, my musical world.
Throughout my discovery-filled years of playing the saxophone, I have acquired a new perspective in life. When my music takes me into an alternate reality, all of the distracting thoughts and troubles that surround me are instantaneously shredded into a million tiny pieces. By articulating through a series of precisely-tied notes, the rewardingly soothing melody can calm me even in the most stressful times. Music, the international language, needs no interpretation. It romantically whispers tales of love, and cries the blues. Becoming one with the music, I dig deep into the trains of thought to catch up with the past.
Improvisation is another important factor in linking together pieces of my musical world. Though very strange and challenging to some, it is my musical canvas. Sparkles of creativity fly out of the horn when true human emotions are unleashed on the spot. Improvising music, using a set of keys within an imaginative scale, is like following a never-ending escalator; it gives me a confident insight and takes me step by step into the future.
Now, as a member of Lord Byng’s Senior Wind Ensemble and Senior Jazz Band, music has led me to a much deeper understanding of life. I have tasted the unforgettable bitterness of failure and held the everlasting, nectar-filled flowers of success. Music picks me up when I fall, like a warm, helping hand. Music is like the best friend who patiently listens. Music has brightened my life. Charlie Parker, one of the greatest jazz musicians, once said, “Music is your own experience, your own thoughts, your wisdom. If you don’t live it, it won’t come out of your horn. They teach you there’s a boundary line to music. But, man, there’s no boundary line to art.” Music has opened the door to a whole new world.
29.Mar.07 Writing Comments (6)
The clock stops ticking as the harmonious humming in life is suddenly absorbed by a vast, serene silence. The sound of typing also disappears. I shut off the dripping sink and somehow, manage to notice the sparkling surface of the crystal-clear water droplets. Minute details of life, never noticed before, are abruptly brought to my attention with the coming of complete silence. The cars outside my tinted window may be honking, perhaps police sirens screaming. None of it matters anymore; for the clock has stopped ticking.
Spring arrives upon us again. I can imagine seeing the delicate cherry blossoms bloom under beautiful blue skies. I wish I could walk out and enjoy the beauties of nature, for all I can see is a hued sheet of darkness. As I slide open my balcony door, I can smell the sweetness of the blooming flowers, hear the pleasing songs of the seagulls, and feel the warm, embraceable sunshine on my arms. Spring has come, my senses tell me.
28.Mar.07 Writing Comments (5)
