Living In (And Outside of) A Yurt

The sound of dusk! It’s thick and I feel the moon awakening for the night. The birds are hustling to find their sleeping space. They are busy. They sing to each other along with the buzz from the bees. All is quiet now except for their music.

Living here is all I need to keep busy. I sit quietly and listen. The woodpecker finds a tree trunk he likes and he pecks. It is loud, and yet so soft. The bobbing of his head is obvious with its crimson bulkiness.

The songbirds call and occasionally the phone rings. As I answer, I am blessed with the voice of a loved friend calling to talk about her day and inquire about our progress.

Life is good! Strangely I am so content with the simplicity that these minutes offer me. I am loving being in this moment of time and being able to appreciate Nature.

 

Our yurt is done and the land around us is becoming more beautiful. There are vegetables growing and new flowers blooming. Growth from previous years is returning. Spring is welcoming. I get to stop and enjoy it all and marvel at the absolute joy I discover in simplicity.

Finding space to just sit is necessary. We’ve been so busy lately, working the land and creating our living space here. I crave the chance to just love the land and absorb its beauty.

Inside the yurt, our queen-sized bed with natural memory foam is covered with a flamboyant colourful Guatemalan quilt. On either side of the bed are tables with lights for reading and each of our books opened to the page from the night before.

The wood stove, usually ablaze with wood pieces from around our land, sits opposite our bed. A bright red rectangle of metal separates the stove from the floor. We painted the piece ourselves to coordinate with the bright array of colour from the quilt.

A sitting area will be nice in another area of the yurt. When we find the appropriate chairs and table, we expect to have a space to sit, and during those cold evenings, stay warm.

Living in a yurt this past week feels so warm and cosy. I am living inside and I still feel connected to the outside.  The  4 ft. dome allows for an open connection to the sky through the trees. The circular walls avoid any idea of linear direction. There is no beginning and no end. Each area in the yurt provides comfort and practicality.

Everything inside our yurt is there because it is necessary and we want it there. The front door, simple and natural, is the entranceway, and, once inside I am surrounded by it all. Even the artwork, that we brought from our homes of the past are here. All I need do is turn and everything I have is right in front of me. It is simple, and practical and whole. The circle provides for that….like a great big hug!!!

Building Our Yurt

We found Chris and Katie while we were in Guatemala. Considering the possibilities of building a yurt on Gabriola, most of the options involved buying a kit.  The buyer describes the type of yurt that is wanted with the specifications and additional options and the company puts it together and ships it to the specified location. Chris and Katie live on Gabriola Island and would build the yurt for us on right here. We were excited about using islanders and also about being involved in the creation and construction of our new home.

Chris and Katie are sailors. By building our yurt, the fees they would receive would make it possible for them to make plans to take off for a month or more. Though they had never built a yurt for anyone else before, they had constructed several for their use and for friends and family. They were enthusiastic about the job during our Skype meeting in February and we all made the verbal commitment to work together.

Spending the winter months in Central America and then visiting New York and Toronto before driving across the country, we arrived on Gabriola in early April. It was cold and wet. What a beautiful surprise to arrive on Whalley Road, our car overstuffed with belongings, to find a temporary 16 ft. yurt waiting for us. Our new friends had gone away for a week, but made sure we had a temporary yurt to live in while our new home was being constructed. The wood stove and the round canvas walls embraced us and warmed us immediately.

We had our first face-to-face meeting with Katie and Chris on April 9^th. During that meeting, we viewed photographs and considered various options of what to include in our design. We talked seriously about how the collaborative process would be possible. We wanted to participate and be closely involved.

Paul and I had our hands on every part of our yurt’s birth. We helped clear the land to make an appropriate space. Paul helped mix and pour the concrete for the foundation. Each day we drove the short distance to Chris and Katie’s to clean the lattice work that would become the walls, and gently apply the linseed oil to protect the finish. Each roof rafter pole was also carefully oiled.

We watched in awe as Katie sewed the canvas, and as she approached the final stages we would often see her delicate head peeking out of the circle in the middle of the layers and layers of fabric sprawled around her.

Instead of screws to connect the wood lattice, Chris pounded about 300 penny rivets to secure the wood lattice pieces to each other and yet still provide the flexibility of accordion-like movement.

Once the foundation and deck structure were secure we began laying the natural fir flooring. Each piece of tongue and groove wood carefully fit together. Paul and John worked together to round the edges to accommodate the shape of the circular foundation. 380 square feet of roundness was eventually ready for the mounting of the canvas.

After 7 weeks of creating the parts, Chris and Katie came over for the big build. They worked all day Friday, and, with Shabbat dinner prepared, stopped only for a late night ceremonial dinner. We shared our Friday night practice with them and ate. The next day, Saturday, we thought they would be here early to finish, but, I guess they decided to take Shabbat seriously… the day of rest. They did come back after sunset and worked until the wee hours of the morning making sure the canvas roof, windows and doors were secure without leakage.

Once our yurt was completed, we welcomed the opportunity to apply our mezuzah to the doorpost. Our first night in the yurt was magical.There is a profound feeling living in a round home. With four windows each facing one of the 4 directions of our earth, I often find myself confused in the middle of the night. “Where am I, and which direction do I need to go?” It gives me reason to stop, and think, and decide.

The yurt is extraordinary, no doubt! We love it. We love living in it! And most of all, the experience of building it together, of getting to know and love Katie and Chris, and acknowledging that we can continue to live just a little bit off the grid and still be warm, is the best!

 

Thank you Katie and Chris!!!!! Happy sailing!

Thoughts About Time

I feel a little like I’ve fallen off the edge of the earth. It has been a long time since I last sat down to write! Time passes. Sometimes I wonder about where the time goes and why it’s still challenging to take the time to do things I love to do. Writing is not just about documenting what I’m doing or thinking or feeling. It’s a way for me to communicate with those I care about. It offers me time to reflect and helps me put my life’s experiences in to perspective. That has always been important to me. Even as a young girl, my friends and family would often say, “Amy, you think too much.”

Thinking is good! Lately I’ve been thinking about time.

The passing of time is wondrous. In my life I have thought of time as ‘flying by’.  Marvelling at the experiences in my life, I observe them as they pass in time. Sometimes things happen too fast and I forget to appreciate them. In the past, my life was busy with my work, family responsibilities, community outreach and going to school. Those years are what I call now, ‘the childrearing years.” The passing of time got me from weekend to weekend, when I could be with family and friends, and, have time to settle from a busy week. Adventures in travel happened from ‘time to time’ and were measured by the season. Learning a new language, Yoga, playing a musical instrument or simply ’just being’ were all things I promised to do ‘when I had the time’. When ‘time passes’ it’s gone.  The challenge is to hold on to it.

Yesterday I attended a memorial service, a celebration of life for an old friend of Paul’s who passed away recently after many years of suffering from Alzheimer’s.  After a series of brief speeches and various references to her life’s accomplishments, a lovely slide presentation showed Sylvia throughout her life. I was impressed by the randomly organized selection of photographs. Sylvia’s life was not presented chronologically, but rather as events neatly woven into her existence. Photos of her as a child followed photos of her as grandmother. Her teenage years were interspersed with early maternal years. It reminded me of the notion I’ve been pondering lately “Time doesn’t ‘fly by’ anymore. Time is intricately and tightly woven.

Lately, I am finding it easier to settle into different patterns of activity. I don’t have the need to be that busy anymore. My work no longer overwhelms my life. I am working to live, now, not living to work. I can be just as productive…as influential as I was before…. just differently.

I realize how rich my life has become lately. My son says to me often, “Mom, you have so much more time.” He’s right. I’m not working as much as I used to, and I’m not constantly on the go. And, I realize too that, I am no less productive than I was before. My actions are more intentional, and I maximise their impact.

 

Recently I read a Face book post that said, “Time doesn’t exist. Clocks exist.” Reflecting a little on that idea, I become clearer about the weaving of time instead of the passing of time. What we do in our lives helps us to expand and become more of who we are. Our experiences create the woven pattern of our beings as long as we take the time to weave the pieces together. Too many of us, have long beautiful pieces that we forget to weave in to our lives. Making sense of what we do…understanding it’s place in our existence and growing as a result happens only when we make it happen. Weaving time is intentional for those of us who care. It is how we grow and change and create new patterns.

And by the way, this blog entry took me way more time to finish than any other I’ve written! And it doesn’t matter to me at all!

Sidney David

We’re on the road! Our amazing Subaru (2005) cruises through the highways as if she knows exactly in which direction she is being driven. The Rocky Mountain loom ahead. They are majestic, even from far away. We are definitely on our way home.

I am Canadian, no doubt. But the fact of the matter is, I was born in the United States. I left very early in my life, and did so intentionally. Spending time in Billings Montana reminds me of some of the reasons I left some 43 years ago.

Reason #1- I order my coffee at the local Coffee Roasters. “I’ll have a medium sized bold coffee, please.” I said. As I receive my coffee, and move away from the counter, the man with the cowboy hat behind me orders his…”Give me a gunpowder green tea, please.” I walk away quietly. Who would name a green tea “Gunpowder”? And who would want to drink that anyway?

Reason #2 – Paul went to make his coffee this morning in the lobby of the Days Inn where we stayed last night. He looks for milk to put in his coffee and, when he doesn’t find any, he says to out loud, “They serve coffee mate in all kinds of flavours. I’m looking for regular milk! There doesn’t seem to be any.” A woman hears him and, pointing to the container on the shelf advises, “Look over. There’s a big jug of milk over there for cereal!  Halllloooo!” As she and her friend walk away, her friend says, “I wouldn’t take him snake hunting!”

The United States is rough, in some places. I’m happy to be Canadian. I’m thrilled to be making my way towards those mountains.

The radio station plays 60’s music. Again, I am reminded of my youth. My dad once took me to see Diana Ross and The Supremes. I remember how excited he was when he brought home the tickets, and, though I don’t remember the whole evening, I do remember feeling appreciative of his gesture to be with me at the concert.

I’m thinking of my dad today, and how we become who we are because of those early influences in our lives. My dad died 14 years ago, and he still remains a presence in the way I chose to live. My dad was a gentle, loving soul. He found solace in his spiritual expression and sought opportunity to connect, in his own way, with God. He was meek and afraid and determined, and never really felt satisfied in what he was doing. He worked hard, waiting for the time when he could retire and ‘enjoy life’. He died before that was able to happen.

During the last workshop I facilitated with teacher candidates a few weeks ago they made mention of host teachers who they found to be rigid and cold. They question then, the pedagogical advantages of ‘teaching the whole child’, which emphasizes compassion, a more gentle approach, and focuses on developing trust, active participation and inclusion in a classroom instead of strict and conforming culture. Our discussion led to the idea that, as we develop critical thinking abilities, we learn what to accept and adopt into our practises and what to let go. It’s a little bit of knowing what not to do!

As I live my life and appreciate each day while mindfully nurturing my relationships, I think about my dad and how he wanted to live. He talked about living a ‘free’ life. 
Even though he was paranoid and suspicious about others, his fears never prevented him from seeking universal love. He had compassion and interest and a strong sense of adventure; all of which he never got to actualize. So much of what I do in my life, I think, is inspired by his dreams. 

Life is Not Always Perfect!

Life isn’t always perfect. These last few weeks have been reflective of that idea. I am learning more and more that I absorb the energy around me. I used to believe that we generate our own outlook and create our personal nature according to our attitudes and perceptions of our world. I strive to find the positive even in dismal and irritating circumstances. I struggle to maintain balance and compassion and a non-judgemental disposition. Circumstances, I am finding, sometimes make that practice more challenging.

Our trip from Belize to Cancun in early March was our final stretch in Central America. Our 3 months of Guatemalan culture and natural surroundings quickly rolled in to city life. We flew right from Cancun to New York City where our car was parked in our friends’ driveway. My mother awaited our visit, and the busy city beckoned our participation. We spent time with family and friends. By Friday we were on our way driving to Toronto, a short 9-hour drive.

While in Toronto I had a fantastic workshop with a group of 25 amazing new, excited energetic and smart teachers, eager to make a real difference in the world of education. We got to visit with many friends who we love and cherish and consider very close. We spent lots of valuable time with those of our children who live in Toronto, and gathered some of our belongings from our (rented out) house, to bring with us to set up our new home in Gabriola.

 

The 2 weeks that we had planned to spend in Toronto, turned in to 3 weeks because Paul got sick with a staph infection and had to spend 6 days in the hospital and then, after he was released, needed daily home care until the IV contraption could be discontinued. The day after that, we left.

Our time in Toronto left me with a dark sense of confusion. In that great city I lose myself to what is going on around me. I get lost in the busy and frenetic lifestyle there, and can’t help but feel oppressed and disconnected from the natural world to which I have become so familiar. In Toronto, traffic is everywhere. Horns honk constantly and people yell at each other. It’s normal.

Keeping soulfulness is difficult in Toronto. Having time to reflect is challenging, considering the many daily experiences. Being mindful about how I spend my days, trying to establish routine of Yoga practise, and maintaining calm is difficult.

Being in Toronto inspires a lot of nostalgic thought. I have visions of our children growing up, playing in the parks, eating ice cream at the local Baskin and Robbins and walking to school. My work brings me back to the schools where my career started some 33 years ago and I can’t help but remember those years and so many of the people with whom I worked. Some of them are still there!  My career has developed considerably since those days.  I remember running through the streets of Toronto, a daily routine of 12 miles, before going off to work, or riding my bicycle with the child seat secured to the back, sometimes, empty sometimes, carrying one of my children. Remembering is good, and also a little bit sad.

Leaving Toronto and driving through the United States is a bit oppressive too. People seem depressed. Miserable grimaces and unhealthy looking bodies seem to be marching all over the streets. People seem suspicious of each other and avoid eye contact.

I don’t mean to complain. I don’t want to wallow in these feelings of negativity. I want to remember what really matters to me and to continue to design my life where and how I want to live.


That’s the point of this blog. That’s the ‘learning’ piece of it for me. Living positively and finding good is easy when the surroundings contribute. I’ve been surrounded by incredible beauty these last few months and have had ample opportunity to live a balanced and fulfilling existence. Sometimes I have to make the move to change my environment and allow joy to penetrate. I know where ‘home’ is and how to connect with my heart space, and yet sometimes I need to be intentional about going there and remind myself of how and where the good exists. We all need to do that. It doesn’t happen by it self. Sometimes we need to make it happen.

Paul recently created a perfect metaphor for this. He said, "If you’re walking on hot coals, and your feet are burning and you’re reacting to the pain under you feet. it is not the time to decide how to heal. First, you have to get off the coals. Then you can fix the pain in your feet!"

Our move to Gabriola is what that’s about. We will put up a yurt when we get there because the weather is still too cold and wet to sleep in our tent. We will set up our home, living outside as much as possible, because that’s what we want to do. Our garden will be a priority this Spring and working in and with the community is a big part of the plan.

I’m on my way to Gabriola, and my feet, having been removed from the hot coals, are waiting for the soothing, comforting, peace that awaits us.

Life in the Sea

I spent my afternoon with sea life. I am in awe of the life that exists underwater in the sea.  It’s one of the reasons I love to scuba dive. Breathing underwater and visiting this part of our world is awesome. I have been a certified diver since 1985, and appreciate the opportunity to exist for a short time in this other world. Paul and I have wanted to scuba dive in Belize since our Cozumel experience in 1994. We are grateful that the winds have died down on our last day in Belize… our final opportunity to dive. We’ve been hanging out for three days, waiting for the gusty winds to subside.  

The motorboat transporting us and a bunch of other scuba divers, travels for about forty-five minutes to a shallow spot of ocean spread out with coral reef. The area is called Esmeralda. Our two tank “drift dive” means we get to relax and take it easy. It should be effortless because the drifting water keeps us all moving in the same direction. It’s perfect to simply observe and enjoy. Gearing up, one by one, we each back-drop into the ocean. Almost immediately I become in tune with my surroundings as I hear the sound of my own breathing and regulate its rhythm through the regulator. I feel in sync with the fish and sea animals.

During our dive, I am followed by what I believe is a yellow and white snapper. He swims with me for a long distance, and several times, he seems to make direct eye contact with me. My daughters would say we became "BFF” (best friends forever). I’m not sure if my presence amused him or baffled him, but I am convinced he was trying hard to tell me something!

Yellow is the colour that I noticed the most amongst the fish. Some are pure yellow. Others are white and yellow striped, and still others turquoise or iridescent blue making sure to present a yellow splash somewhere on their body. Yellow is the colour that most absorbs light! That makes sense in the underwater world. The sun shines right through, even 80 feet below!

I understand now the concept of ‘sepia’. God’s colours are very different in the depths of the ocean world. Browns, tans, chocolates, with a smattering of orange and yellow.  Dark greens clearly differ from the greens and browns of our earth surface. Long tubes of swaying purple or orange or blue plants remind me of Dr. Suess…”And To Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street.”  Underwater life is otherworldly. It’s a place that I know exists, and just doesn’t feel completely real.

The blue sky shines through. Even at 80 feet below the surface, when I look upward I can see the sky. I wonder if the fish notice that too and if they too survive on the vitamin D provided by the sun.

Scuba diving is a co-operative sport. I would never dive solo! We are carefully arranged with buddies prior to descending. It’s important to review the hand signals together. Rounding your fingers reinforces “Are you okay?”  Conspicuously handling your air gauge asks, “How’s your air level?”  Moving fingers in a walking motion says, “Look! A lobster!” In the beginning of our first dive, I couldn’t find Paul! He often descends slowly because it’s hard for him to clear his ears at first. I know that, but still, I didn’t like not seeing him. In underwater sign language, I had a lengthy conversation with our dive master. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m fine,” I said again, “but my partner isn’t here. I don’t know where he is.” “Don’t worry!” Edwel responds, “He’s coming down. He’ll be here soon. You stay with me.” Reassured, I continue, but not until I actually see Paul and swim together am I feeling completely at ease.

Big fish! Barracudas, stingrays, nurse sharks sometimes measuring the length of my outstretched arms (about 5 feet). I was in awe of the way they swim, or just drift, coming so close to me and then moving on. I experienced no fear! It felt natural to be there with them!

It is a wonder to me that there is so much life under water, and, sometimes I even see evidence of socialization. At one point there were large groups of fish hanging out together near beautiful coral walls. There must have been about 50 of them! Though they congregated together in one place, they were clearly segregated, each hanging out with their own colours. The solid yellow tunas in one group, striped in another, and the plain silver kept to them selves in still another. It was a unique glimpse of sociological fish world. Just like what goes on in our own schoolyards!

This was our first dive in several years. If we had one more day, we’d go for the famous “Blue Hole”. Well….we’ll leave that for another time!

Belize- Moving Towards Canada

In 1994 Paul and I were scuba diving in Cozumel Mexico. On our way out, while waiting in the airport, we met someone who was just coming from Belize. He told us, “Belize has the best scuba diving in the world!” Since then we’ve wanted to come and, enroute from Guatemala to Mexico, we decided to make it happen.

As we walked ourselves over the Guatemala/Belize border, I asked a woman to snap our photograph. I chose this particular woman because she seemed to speak clear English. Not being familiar at all with Belizean culture, I assumed this woman was Western, of African American descent. I later realized that she is clearly Belizean!

There are several things that are surprising to me about Belize. I knew the country was English speaking, but quite honestly I hadn’t realized that English was the first language here. Actually, it’s a different dialect than what I’m used to, and I find this form of English (Creole) even more difficult to understand than Spanish. Here, is the only English speaking country in Central America. In fact, Belize used to be named British Honduras until receiving independence in 1981. I find it a little weird here.

Caye Caulker is the Island where most of the great reefs exist, so, after crossing the border, we begin to slowly make our way. First stop is to visit a friend in San Ignacio. Sarah is the sister of our son, Philip’s, partner, Karen. It was great to meet Sarah and spend the time with her, eating a couple of meals together and seeing some of the sights of her little city. We stayed right ‘downtown’ which, I’d have to say seemed a bit depressed. Shanty shacks and roadside tables, occupied by (somewhat) miserable looking people, contributed to the lazy, dragged out feel of the town. Apparently, next week the place rocks with a major canoe race, La Ruta Maya. The annual Belize Endurance Canoe race is the longest race of its kind in Central America featuring 170 miles of paddling on the Belize River over the course of 4 days. Otherwise, however, we wonder why anyone would choose to be here!

The ferry from San Ignacio brings us directly to Caye Caulker. We arrive by mid afternoon and quickly began our pursuit for comfortable lodging. We find an affordable small shack on the beach, and grab it. Unfortunately, we forget to check for some basics (like hot water and a mirror) It’s probably the funkiest accommodation we’ve had since our trip began. The best part is that it’s on the beach, and, the worst part is that it’s on the beach. The winds are so gusty and fierce that it kept us awake all night. And…when we went for our 9:00 scuba dive, we discover it is cancelled due to winds. We weren’t surprised…. disappointed, but not surprised.

The Pacific waters are clear and blue and the beaches here are not beautiful. In fact, there are no beaches, per say. Some hotels built long docks where people can dive into the water. They have arranged a chair or two on the docks where people stay and relax, but, generally, there is no beach space.I think that’s a little strange. Caye Caulker is a resort area, and yet, there is no beach space? I suppose most people come here for diving or snorkeling.

We rented two bicycles for the 3 days we’re here and have traversed the entire island before lunch. The low, lush growth of jungle plants and old palm trees cover the land. Houses are simple and shanty like, and, as we ride further out from the tourist area we find huge, empty houses, many of which are for sale, along the water. The ‘strip’ offers resorts and restaurants…nothing fancy, and, if we ride off the beaten tracks we find simple, and delicious places to eat and hang out. The people, mostly Caribbean descendents, are friendly yet reserved, and helpful. They respond to our smiling greetings, although they don’t usually initiate. Most people come here for vacationing, which includes lots of drinking and partying. It’s not necessarily our style, but we’re here for the snorkeling and scuba diving, so we end up doing our own thing.

 

We are definitely in a ‘returning to Canada’ mind frame. Belize is our last stop before making our way back to Cancun for our flight to New York to visit friends and family, pick up our car and begin our ride back to Canada. Our time in Toronto will be all about work, and friends. I am excited about facilitating a 3-day workshop with a group of teacher candidates from various universities and connecting with the various organizations with whom I work. Then we begin our drive across the country to set up our new/old home on Gabriola...for now!