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Julia Nethersole

Julia Nethersole is an Author Care Coordinator for Kobo. Previously she served Cardus for several years as Development Coordinator. She holds a B.A. in International Development and World Religions from McGill University.

Articles by Julia Nethersole
  • Reflections from the Camino: Part II

    Julia Nethersole and Susan Nethersole

    Last fall, Cardus’s Julia Nethersole walked Spain’s 775-kilometre Camino Francés. Find the first section at Reflections from the Camino: Part I. Six years ago, I peered over my mother’s shoulder to read the laptop screen in front of us. The thought occurred to me that this was another one of Mum’s crazy ideas.

  • Reflections from the Camino: Part I

    Julia Nethersole and Susan Nethersole

    Wake up. Eat. Walk. Break. Walk. Eat. Walk. Arrive. Laundry. Eat. Sleep. And repeat. Life as a pilgrim is a funny sort of existence. How can each day be the very same, and yet completely different? The routine, ever-consistent, was at once comforting and intimidating; I found myself bolstered by the knowledge that nothing but my own two feet would carry (or drag) me to my next destination.

  • Being Bossy and How Beyoncé Let me Down

    Julia Nethersole

    Beyonce via InstagramI have to admit, I love Beyoncé. Since the tender age of nine, I've been a devoted and loyal fan. I remember a (retrospectively) embarrassing phase of teenage angst during which I had her song "Irreplaceable" on repeat. Beyoncé is an amazing woman. In my life, I have been fortunate to have always been surrounded by amazing women: women that have been models of intelligence, compassion, hard work, love, and strength.

  • Nurture

    Julia Nethersole

    My sister, Angela, recently spent 15 days in hospital. Needless to say, my family met many nurses over those weeks. In this time I've wondered about the distinction between duty and service. What is it that makes one nurse seem more compassionate and attuned to the patient's every need than another nurse? It seems more than science; it is an art form born in the heart.

  • Contemplating "Realness"

    Julia Nethersole

    Her words have been on my mind since I saw her at breakfast. Seated on the verandah of her retirement home, in between sips of tea and nibbles of toast, she uttered a phrase that I had heard from her many times before: "I just want to be a real person again."  She talked longingly about her life outside of the retirement home; her eyes lit up as she described the willow trees in the park steps away from her old condo or the days spent bustling around the streets of Toronto.

  • Limits on Our Excess

    Julia Nethersole

    Much like any addiction, it starts slowly and builds gradually. It gains momentum and eventually consumes you until you're trapped, completely beholden to the power of the screen, with no strength or desire to resist the "next episode playing in 10 seconds" button that tantalizes you from the corner of your monitor.

  • Identity Cooking

    Julia Nethersole

    I was recently asked about the best meal I've ever had. Being the daughter of a man who thinks about what he'll be having for lunch at breakfast, and knows what he'll be making for Sunday dinner on Tuesday, it is without doubt that I took this question quite seriously. Whilst agonizing over my short list of top three favourite meals, I realized that they all had one thing in common.

  • Committing Ink

    Julia Nethersole

    I recently lamented the fact that I don't get many letters these days. Even as I glance apprehensively at the growing number of unopened emails in my inbox, and hear the incessant beep announcing the arrival of another text or Facebook message, I am sorely tempted to unplug and hunt for a crisp piece of parchment and my favourite pen.

  • Forgetting Jane Austen

    Julia Nethersole

    I am aware that this this is entirely cliché, but I shamelessly admit to being bewitched, body and soul, by the prose of Jane Austen. Despite the disdain of friends and family members, I am content to reference her work at the first opportunity. As Jane Bennet says, "Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion."

  • Tourists in Our Own Lives

    Julia Nethersole

    The first autumn days are upon us, and I cannot help but feel premature nostalgia for summertime. While I happily relinquish the toil of those last four years in university to the shelf of memories, I still feel the turnover into September like a loss of freedom. Labour Days have recently meant giving up my freedom from approaching deadlines, from late night treks home from the library, from sleepless nights, from endless memorization.

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