By Emily Stonehouse

There’s been no shortage of news.

Most of it has been bad. We can’t look the other way. And the algorithms of our allegedly “smart” devices are curated so that we can’t turn it off, even if we try.

In this role, as someone with a soapbox to stand on in our community, I often feel as though I am walking the tightrope of content. How do we share the goings-on in the community, the highs and lows of a small, rural, Canadian town, when it feels like the world around us is burning?

I had a few other editorials drafted this week. Sometimes I simply find it cathartic to get my feelings out in black and white; adding structure and song to the mangle of emotions in my head.

But it was all too dark. I wasn’t shedding light on any topics that were necessarily pertinent to our community, and I wasn’t fixing any problems by using my soapbox to air out my thoughts.

Now that’s not to say that we shouldn’t be using our voices when we can. When one voice harmonizes with others in a world where we are told to stay quiet, that’s how mountains are moved.

But there is a time and a place.

And during a dreary February day when yet another cold snap is looming and the headlines just keep coming, maybe we need to take a different approach.

It feels useless to write an editorial on what many writers would consider “fluff”. Stories on Valentine’s Day, on music, on art, on theatre. I myself get swept up in the concept of capturing “news”. The big ticket items that will grab the reader and get them thinking. Challenge the politicians at every level to do a better job. Carve open the questions and gut out the guessing games.

But in a world filled with sharp edges and blunt blades, maybe we need the fluff.

It softens us, it heals us. It wraps our wounds and coddles our falls.

So, on this dreary February day, maybe we take a break from the news. Maybe we read about the people who add colour to our community. Perhaps it’s the time to take in a musical performance; one of the many added to the roster over the entire month for February Folk Festival. It’s officially Olympic season. Cheer on your team, join together in some friendly competition to fly your flag.

There is good in the world. So, so much good. But when we are shaped and carved to only consume the bad, that’s what we will look for. The shadows will dominate the light, the edges will overrun the ease.

But we could all use a little bit of fluff. A reminder that love exists, that people are kind, that talent can transport us to a different world, that arts can keep our souls alight.

Because when we fall, when our mental health wavers, our hope dwindles, our belief in a better world falls short, we all need a soft place to land.

The fluffier, the better.