Nostalgia

Driving on the Blue Ridge Highway surrounded by the Appalachian Mountains I am overcome with a strong sense of nostalgia. I used to drive these roads often when I was younger. First with my parents to visit my older brother Alan when he was a student at Roanoke College. I especially remember driving up for his graduation and spending the weekend together in celebration.

Next, my next brother, Michael decided to go to Roanoke too. He and I used to drive back and forth often. I like to tell my own children how Michael and I would get out of the car at toll booths to collect all the quarters that people left behind when they missed the cage that should have collected their fare. It was a successful trip when we collected more quarters than what we had to pay out.

We spent a lot of time following music wherever we could find it and happening upon adventure whenever we could make it. There were many weekends spent in the mountains being crazy and young and wild.

The drive today is different. I somehow notice the mountains more vividly, and I appreciate the beauty around me. I am aware of the colourlessness of Winter and breathe deeply when the sun shines through the space in the clouds, brightening the path ahead, even if just a few minutes.

As I drive, Paul and I listen to Jefferson Airplane. I turn our ipod up louder.

Things sure have changed in 35 years and I become a bit sad. There is a bitter sweetness. Sometimes, lately I feel old. My body hurts chronically and I’m not always as able to physically do the things I used to do. Maybe it’s temporary. My knees have stiffened. Perhaps I will be in full repair soon. Perhaps not. When I meet with old friends our conversation often turns to arthritis pains and loose unwanted skin.

My hair is grey and I know it makes me look older than I need to. But I am older. What’s the point of looking younger if I’m not! And yet I wish I did. Go figure….

I miss the excitement I used to feel when I buy things. Though I never was a big shopper, I felt excitement when I bought new things. Art purchases for our house to make it more comfortable. New clothes that would remind me of places I’ve been. Special gifts for friends and family to let them know I was thinking about them. All these things used to be fun. I find myself shedding my possessions now instead of accumulating things.

I’m also noticing how much I don’t know. Working with university students and being with so many young people reminds me about how quickly our world is changing. There is so much I don’t know in this world. I want to know I have enough time to keep learning and applying my newly gained knowledge.

So these are some of the things Paul and I talked about in the car today. And here is what happened for me….

I feel incredibly blessed. I am getting older. Our children are grown up, self sufficient and happy…each one of them. We have never had the kind of freedom we have now. I have the gift of Paul who wants to go on these adventures with me and, together, we somehow make it possible. We can do anything we want!

“Look at what we’re doing right now!” Paul says to me. “Look at how crazy we are! This is fantastic!”

“You’re right” I agree. And the tears fall. They are tears of honey. And the car rolls. I feel happy. The speed limit is 70 miles an hour. The snow lays heavily on the mountains around me. My love sits beside me and shares regular smiles as a simple ‘check-in’ gesture. Grace Slick continues to sing and Paul and I sing along, together, as we carry on. God blessed.

Interconnected Somehow

I am often in awe about the interconnectedness of our lives. Last week’s workshop with teachers and teacher candidates was exciting because it was my first time working with students from Niagara University. It was a big surprise to discover that their campus is right downtown and not very far from where I live.

My daughter Jacquie, an undergraduate student at Guelph University finally decided to give in to mom and take my workshop for the 3 days. It was such a joy to have her there and to share with her what I do. The last time we did anything like that was when I brought her to George Brown College for “Bring Your Child to Work Day” a mere 7 years ago.

The group was such an eager and enthusiastic group. We had fun together and learned a great deal. I was reminded, pleasantly, how much I learn from teaching.

During the first day of training, one of the students asks, “Are you Jonathan Block-Verk’s mother? “Yes” I answered. “How did you know that?”

“I recognized you. He and I went to Junior High School together. That was 25 years ago!”

And yet another student, hearing that I live part time on Gabriola informs me, “I know someone on Gabriola….a yoga teacher named Maalaa” Maalaa and I are really close friends!

Life is like that. When I open up to opportunities, connections happen more readily. The more connections we make, the more we can make. I love ending my sessions with Robert Fulghum’s words “When you go out into the world, remember to hold hands and stick together.” Holding hands makes the ride just a little bit more joyous!

There's a New York State in My Mind

It was an early April morning of last year as I began to ready myself for the day of work. I had already had my coffee, read a couple of sections of last weekend’s newspaper, and opened my computer for the first time for the day. I checked my email as I do every day, and, as my oldest son suggests, checked in for my daily Face book update. It is unusual for me to have a message on Face book, since it is not my main source of communication, so when I saw that I had a message it was a bit surprising to me.

The sender was Louise Watnik Mattingly. “Are you the Amy Block from Rego Park?” it said.

As I reread the name on the message I could feel the warmth flow through my body. It was a familiar name for me. Louise Watnik was an old school friend of mine from early elementary years while living in New York.

I responded, “Yes. That’s me! Are you Louise Watnik who lived on Queens Blvd next to the Jewish Community Centre?”

The initial contact brought on by that first message lead to a quick barrage of communication. Within 24 hours of my response to Louise, I began to receive messages from many of my old childhood friends.

“Oh my God! Orith Ben-Dor is contacting me. Orith my across the street buddy with whom I spent many experimental episodes and hung out with in Central Park” or “Jill Abramson! This is amazing…. Jill Abramson was one of my two buddies with whom I followed the Grateful Dead and persued my way to higher thinking!”

My husband Paul quietly smirked and rolled his eyes as the onslaught of communication began and people from my past began to drop in to my life. He had never really seen me like this. He had never heard me speak about my childhood. Childhood for me was so far away, generally a painful subject, and up until recently, insignificant and irrelevant in the context of my present life. I never realized the impact of those early relationships. I never noticed their absence and I never realized the importance the relationships held for myself, or, for that matter, to my friends. I never knew how much they missed me. I had never thought of myself as that noticeable.

Lori Ratner, I thought. She was the one who showed me the way to the tracks of the Long Island Island where we would secretly smoke our Marlboro cigarettes. And Serena who lived on the second floor of the apartment building where I lived on the fifth! Each face or name held a memory. Each person was a part of my past.

“I found her! I found her! I found Amy!!!” “Do you mean our Amy?” read the messages result from my connections. “Yes! Our Amy” She lives in Canada! She’s coming to New York to meet us all!”

That first reunion was fraught with turning pages from photo albums, reading through my letters written on aerogram stationary from Israel to my friends here, reviewing class newsletters with samples of our own poetry and prose from grade 6 and checking out yearbooks of familiar (and unfamiliar) faces. That initial reunion was as exciting as seeing my first Broadway musical.

Since then, we have gathered several times. We’ve spent whole weekends in Orith’s house at the Hamptons, cooking, drinking, talking and just hanging out together. We’ve met in the city for theatre and dinner. Or we’ve grabbed a quick drink and bite to eat as I pass through the New York area.

Each time is memorable! And I share a powerful connection with these women. Nine of us in all, and except for myself in Toronto, and Gerry in San Francisco, all still live in the New York area. We just like being together, and share a “whole lotta love”. Perhaps it’s something primal; a revisit to my childhood, and reminder of the naivety of our behaviours and a flash back to the impulsiveness of how we were then. Larry says there is nothing like those ‘firsts’ shared with friends. Secrets of our ‘first’ romance, perhaps the ‘first’ experiment with substances. Maybe it’s the reliance on one another through adolescent traumas that occur naturally. Or maybe the emotional bonds that grow as we share the unexpected, like the death of a parent or separation or divorce. They know me like no other knows me! It’s even a bit primal.

Last night’s potluck at Orith and Larry’s penthouse in New Jersey apartment was fantastic! We all, (including the men) loved being together high above the Hudson River overlooking the New York and New Jersey skylines. Food was plentiful and delicious. The energy was easy and joyful. We shared much talking and laughing and hugging and kissing. What a joy to blend my worlds together!

Our gatherings happen only occasionally, and each time, they are filled with a unique energy. I’ve tried to understand it. And usually I just give in to it.

I know I am deeply blessed. We have a “A whole lotta love” together! Thank you girlfriends!!!!

On The Road Again....

Our approach into the city is at dusk. I am reminded of the unique sight that New York offers. I don’t call it beautiful. It is more awesome than beautiful, evoking a sense of cheerlessness and austerity as the clouds hang densely waiting for the snow to fall. The trees bordering the Hutchinson River Parkway no longer have their colours. The leaves have gone and the baroness on the trees seems to reflect the loneliness that the busy, crowded city of New York offers.

This is our first stop on our two-month road trip, an adventure inspired by our commitment to avoid Canadian Winters. This year our destination is a far off exotic land…the United States. We have often talked about taking a ‘road trip’ through the United States. With our grand daughter, Stella turning 7 the end of January, and my birthday happening around the same time, we decided to make that time our eventual arrival in Los Angeles.

Beginning in New York for a family Bat Mitzvah, we begin our travels with family, friends, and a taste of the craziness of New York.

I’m happy to be on the road again, travelling into areas that are unfamiliar, exciting and sometimes scary. Undoubtedly, travelling through the U.S. is very different from travelling in India! First of all, I’ve never felt so nervous about a trip before. I’m worried about being robbed, about bedbugs in hotels, and about being disgusted with cold, stormy weather conditions. And, at the same time, I’m feeling that this road trip is a pursuit towards something bigger. I’m close to home, investigating areas that I’ve heard about all my life and never visited. I’m excited about recognizing the cultural diversity that exists in the U.S. just by moving from state to state. And, I’m looking forward to meeting up with close friends along our route and eventually some of our children in California.

We’ll be staying with friends, Couchsurfing and the occasional hotel along the way. Another adventure begins…..

Tribes at St. Alban's - December 2010

I often reflect on how it is that a group of people come together and create a comfortable and inspiring community. This week a group of teachers and teacher candidates came together with the intent of learning about Tribes. Everybody had the same objective for being there and, each person, (except for one couple) came alone. There were 20 participants. The 4 day in 3 scheduling, makes for a pretty intense time, particularly for me, the trainer. I want to keep the pace moving, and at the same time, not wear out brains and bodies before I have presented important materials.

During the first module I usually show a film that features Bonnie Bernard who shares her studies about fostering resiliency factors in youth. The film is impactful for teachers because it emphasizes the effect that teachers have on young people as they grow into independent and productive human beings. It is a really good film, and, I find that it provides inspiration for the participants as we embark on this 24 hour training together.

Recently I lost my DVD of the film so I’ve been using my video version. St. Alban’s VCR, where my session was being held, was not working! Instead of panicking, I decided to invite the entire class up to my house to watch the video. I live a half of a block away from St. Alban’s. I suggested that the participants grab their lunches or go to the nearest Loblaws to purchase their lunch, and meet at my house to watch the film together.

The bonding of this group happened almost immediately. By the end of lunch that day, all 20 participants were comfortable with each other. Exchanging emails and telephone numbers they were arranging carpools and sharing lunches. Undoubtedly, the inclusion stage with this group happened organically and naturally.

Comments like “Wow! This is the first time I have ever taken a course and been invited to the instructor’s house!” or “Hey, this is just like going on a field trip!”

Calamities like this, and working our way out of them together brings the learning alive. Learning is only worth happening if it’s relevant outside the walls of the classroom. And certainly, whatever happens in our Tribes sessions also happens in all of our classrooms in one way or another.

Last week’s group was a joy. It reinforces my ideas that everything happens for a reason. Someone (I think it was my friend Penny) taught me that learning is fundamental. First you have the fun. Then you have da mental!

Institute for Child Studies and Tribes

There is something about working with teacher candidates that I find completely inspiring. Perhaps it’s because they are fresh and excited about teaching and anxious to do a great job in the classrooms. They seem to be idealistic in a real sort of way and definitely genuine in their belief about changing the world. I feel honoured to be accepted as a part of their pursuit.

The group I’m working with now is from the Institute for Child Studies at OISE, University of Toronto. I am noticing above everything that this group is smart. Along with their intuitive intelligence about teaching, they seem to have acquired knowledge that supports who they already are. Their programme is a Masters programme in Education. Various Bachelor programmes come together in one group to create a solid foundation in education and/or human development.

It is also wonderful working with a group who are already immersed in the stage of inclusion. They know each other, joke together, and despite the fact that there is limited job availability and lots of opportunity for competition, they seem to be so supportive of each other and helpful and together.

It reinforces the idea that establishing a solid foundation of mutual respect and appreciation is critical. I’m wondering if their appreciation of each other further encourages information sharing and, enhances the achievement level and degree of knowledge learned.

Sharing this time with them has reminded me of the difference between assessment and evaluation. When your classroom runs smoothly there is very little need for tests. Students stay on top of the material, get directly to the tasks at hand and ask questions on their own when there is need for clarification or desire to extend their learning. For students who need more….asking for it pushes us just a little it further. As teachers, we can’t expect ourselves to know everything, but we sure want to stay open to learn.

Gurukala

“You are not the doer”. Says Margaret an Indian woman of 61 years and my newly discovered spirit sister. “I didn’t understand that when I was younger. I do now. Nothing that happens to us is irrelevant. Everything happens for a reason. And all the reasons are all important.”

My last few days in India are perfect. I am with Mah (that’s Margaret) in a, once upon a time ashram, that has become a small retreat for anyone who wants to be here. In the 70’s Gurukula was the home to Guru Nataraj and his devotees. Living communally, studying and practising the Guru’s Nataraj’s teachings, Mah and her husband Vinaya lived with others. They grew food, bred cows and chickens and rabbits, practised Yoga and studied with Guru Nataraj. Everything they did was because of and in support of their Guru.

Looking at pictures from those early years, Mah and her husband, Vinaya wear love beads and headbands, reflecting the vision of the time. Sincere in their quest for inner growth, cosmic love and ultimate peace, Mah still struggles for the similar values that inspired her to become a member of this Ashram in the 70’s. Things haven’t changed much for Mah since then. Her 4 children have grown up and moved away, and have families of their own. Vinaya is gone most of the time teaching in other areas of India and abroad; a proclaimed disciple of Nataraj. Mah is the lone caretaker of the 10 acres now, nurturing the land, actively improving the space and consciously making it available to anyone who needs help and attention. She has become the real earth Mother of Guruluka and the one that ultimately lives the dream of the ashram.

“Some days when I am aware of my own ignorance and I realize how much I don’t know, I understand. It is just like what the Guru says. There comes an understanding and when it comes, I realize it’s not wisdom or something great. Its just simplifying life and it gives me more freedom, happiness, comfort. There is nothing big that leads to enlightenment. It’s only about remaining hopeful.”

Hope nowadays is reflected in the new Bookroom being constructed near the old meditation room. Mah’s vision, along with friend and collaborator, Sahadevan’s skill as an architect, create the necessary energy for the beautiful developments. Mah sees it as a place to meditate, read, think, and be quiet. There is a place for prayer, for sleeping, and for washing. Small gardens beginning to sprout where the landscaping has been carefully planned lend to the natural and simple beauty.. Each cluster of money donated to the ashram is allocated to help finish this project. Any one who stays at the ashram is encouraged to work.

The common house that centres on the kitchen, is a simple shack made of solid cement and wooded roof protected by shingles made of . I am told that this roof replaced the palm leaves that used to separate them from the sky. Together Mah and I laugh about her memories of the cockroaches falling from the large leaves. I am humbled by my own fears of those critters and comforted that Mah shares the same gross fear. In fact, I am noticing how much alike Mah and me really are and how quickly we are bound to each other’s spirit.

The cement floor replaces the cow dung that used to be spread on the ground to protect the growing children. The gas stove sits where the open fire used to provide cooking space. Today, a refrigerator squeezes into an empty space on the side of the entrance door and preserves the many rolls of paneer, and bowls of freshly churned butter and buckets of freshly made curds that Mah makes daily.

Two cows are milked twice daily, and with the milk, enough revenue is generated to feed the other cows, calves really, so they too, will grow to produce milk. 6 litres of morning milk goes to the village, and, then each evening, enough milk is produced to share with the few people who live here regularly. Mah makes food for anyone who is staying here and provides full meals for all the workers who come to sustain the buildings and the landscaping. She makes strong coffee with hot sweet milk each morning, and, in the evening, insists that a cup of warm milk with honey will contribute to a warm, comfortable night’s sleep. Both are habits I have embraced!

Peacefulness and calm is here for me. As I walk through the grounds the trees rustle, and, although the sun shines, the heat is manageable. I am not accessible to Internet and Facebook and bank statements. I have made time to meditate, play my guitar (I’m still not any good) and talk with the people around. There are 5 of us staying in the ashram right now, except for me, all semi permanent residents.

Mahima is Mah’s daughter who happened to come for the week. We all agree there is something cosmic about her coming, unexpectedly, the same day as my arrival. The three of us spent many hours in conversation sharing experiences as mothers, daughters, and women in diverse cultures. Our relationship has grown fast, and strong. As Mah says, “Things don’t happen by accident.”

We milk cows, sit cross-legged in the kitchen over countless cups of coffee, read to each other from books, share personal writing, and have hours of conversation considering the meaning of life at this stage of our existence. We prepare and eat wonderful Indian meals, Mah insisting on separating a small portion of each dish to protect me (needlessly) from the hot spice. We make curd and various flavours of paneer. We hug trees, go into town to shop, walk in the gardens, and take care of the animals. Sahadevan and I even go up the road to the local cafe where we share a beer.

Mah says “Life is like a heartbeat, it goes in and out in and out. We need to go with the heartbeat. The heartbeat of the soul becomes life. The purpose is to feel comfortable being a part of the whole that is there. It has a personality. The core of life is that heartbeat.”

Mah is the heartbeat of GuruKula. Mah is what keeps the place alive!