Life On A Small Island

It is morning. The sun is bright. I wake up throwing on my terry cloth robe, and descend the stairs from our yurt. The weather is warming lately. It is as it used to be, as I remember those summer days, bright sunny mornings and roasting afternoons. The rain has subsided. I click on the coffee maker. The day begins. The smell of fresh coffee begins to permeate the air. I breathe deeply, look around and welcome the day ahead.

Neighbourhood dogs have eaten from the bowls filled with dog food left from days before. The birds are busy in the trees. Their communication has become an expected part of our morning routine. Squirrels, playing high up in the trees, bombard the ground with pinecones. I stop to listen to it all in awe as the wind blows gently through the trees.

This morning we are making the 10:05 ferry into town. Nanaimo is the closest town from Gabriola. We need to go there whenever we have to purchase something big. Our refrigerator has conked. The ruthless sun shining on its’ outside walls during the last 6 years has created an early demise. Our new fridge is stainless steel so the reflector action might make a difference. Outside living requires new approaches to old ideas.

On our drive to the ferry I watch the active ocean. Fluffy clouds, the colour of milk, swim across the bright blue sky. It’s another clear day! Several cars pass as we travel. The drivers casually lift their hand from the steering wheel in greeting, sometimes offering a gentle smile as we pass. Runners and bicyclers of all shapes and sizes line the right side of the road. They (and we too) are hugged by the tree-lined roads. Smiles and serious expressions are noticeable.

We stop at the local coffee shop, Mad Rona’s, where the coffee is hot and delicious and the various sandwich choices usually make me hungry. We’ve packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to have with our coffee so I refrain from ordering the sausage, egg, goat cheese, pesto, tomato, spinach and aioli breakfast sandwich. Geez, I wish I didn’t pack peanut butter and jelly!

We joke with the people in front of us in line. It’s early still and it seems that sunshine outside fills the hearts of the people inside. People on Gabriola seem happier. They smile, say good morning and often stop on the road just to talk. Time is different here. There seems to be time to embrace the simplicity of lifes’ opportunity. A chance to speak with a friend. Sitting outside in the sunshine with a delicious cup of coffee. Verbal reminders of appreciation for the glorious colours of the natural world. I see friends sitting outside at Mad Rona’s. I stay and chat for a while. Friendly and amiable, there is time to say hello and chat. I feel a comfortable sense of belonging.

The ferry line-up is reasonable and there is no doubt we’ll get on with our vehicle. Living on an Island means that we need to plan according to the ferry schedule. At certain times of the day, or even on certain days, it’s necessary to get to the ferry way ahead of its departure time to ensure you’ll get on. Otherwise, it’s necessary to wait for the next ferry. People who commute to work remain constantly mindful of getting there on time. I would guess “I couldn’t get on the ferry” just doesn’t cut it when creating excuses for the daily trek to the office.

Our time in town is intentional and focussed. We are both eager to complete our chores and make the earliest ferry back to Gabriola. With carefully created lists we plow through our tasks.

On the ferry home, the cars line up transporting families and friends over to the island to celebrate the long weekend. I see their happy faces and their relief about having a long weekend ahead of them. I don’t mean to be smug. I want to embrace our visitors. I feel grateful that I get to stay past the weekend. This is my home. Paradise. That’s where I live. On a small island.

Reunion on Gabriola

This weekend is a happening here on Gabriola and, in particular on Whalley Road. The Medicine Wheel reunion is planned and people from all over are coming on to the island to participate. Medicine Wheel, a musical band here on Gabriola in the 70’s is part of the energy that shaped many of the lives of the people who lived here then. Here, on this island, like other places in the world, was a time of freedom and exploration and expressions of love. For many of us, exploding into the world of adulthood meant beautiful expressions of music, literature, visual art, and alternative living. The days of Woodstock, John Lennon, Viet Nam involvement, and drug culture created a world for us of freedom and exploration and adventure.

It is the time of the 70’s brings us together this weekend. It’s not the past. It’s now. Time passes and weaves itself through our lives.  Events from our past remain present. We are who we were! The experiences from long ago deeply impact on how we live today. The messages that were expressed then are the same as what we express today…. just differently.

The focal point of the weekend is the concert on Saturday night, but the overall objective is to unite the people who have come for the event. People of all ages and from different parts of the country gather. There are those who were here in the 70’s and those who were not.

The weekend begins with a Friday night campfire. People gather as a form of orientation. Big hugs with old friends and genuine smiles of new introductions are made. People gather. Music is played. And everyone has fun.

Saturday afternoon, provided time for community circle. I was thrilled to be asked to facilitate the circle. The objective was to reflect on ourselves in the context of who we were then and an who we are now, and how our lives are similar and different.  “What stories or memories characterised who you were in the 70’s? How do those stories reflect, still, the person you are today?” Those who chose to share these thoughts did.

Carefully facilitated circles like this are such great ways to gather peoples’ stories and to offer opportunities for meaningful conversations. During the circle time, setting ‘ground rules’ is critical. There are always those who have no problems speaking publicly. Though they are the ones we usually hear from, they are not the only ones who have something to say. Starting at one place and going around the circle gives each person who is present the opportunity to say something. Offering the chance to ‘pass’ gives an ‘out’, and still the sincere invitation to share. I think that many people, who would not ordinarily ‘offer’ their stories, do so when their turn comes.

Talking sticks, even imaginary talking sticks ensure that people get their full time allotment. In our case this weekend, each person got 2 minutes. As the facilitator, it was necessary to determine the time restriction just to ensure that everyone had time to share something. The good thing about circles like this, is it gives participants inspiration to connect face to face later on in the evening. “I want to know more about you.” Or “I was there during that event you talked about….” It doesn’t have to be the whole story. It simply offers a ‘trailer’ for further conversation. What a great way to start the weekend!!!!

The community circle went for 2 hours. There were tears shed, many laughs and intense interest in the various stories that were shared. Inclusivity between all participants was evident. People who didn’t even know each other before experienced a sense of belonging and awareness of each other, of the times in question, and of today.

Being more familiar with each other allowed for a more intimate and sociable event that evening. It was spectacular, with music and dancing and hugging and loving.

The next morning many people gathered on our land for breakfast/brunch and an opportunity to say "good-bye for now”. It was, for many, more than they had expected…an event that helped create wholeness and wholesomeness and contentment for lives from long ago. It is a reminder that ime doesn’t change what we do. It just changes how we do it.

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.