Time of Change- Rosh Hashana

Just Thinkin'

Paul and I just celebrated the Jewish High Holy Days with our beloved spiritual community in Toronto. The ‘Days of Awe’ were truly awesome as I focussed on those special gathering times and concentrated on prayer and introspection and holiness. It is a time to reconsider, re-settle and re-establish in anticipation for a year a head. It is a time of transition and adjustment. It is evidenced everywhere.

Full moon drumming

I notice it in the autumn moon as it has moved into a different place across the night sky. Shifting its way further north, in its fullness I need no lantern as I wonder outside. It is an unfamiliar stream of light for me, now shining on the back of our yurt. In the middle of the night the air is still cool, not cold, and the quiet of the woods fools me into believing it could actually be summer.

The morning brings change too. The Japanese maple tree on our neighbour’s drive has completely changed into a bright red, the leaves reacting to the coming cold. The fallen leaves create a colourful blanket on the bicycle path I ride each day.

The coffee brews and I am excited about the day! The potatoes in our garden need to be dug up. Potatoes don’t get ‘picked’ like other vegetables. They are like gold, hiding themselves under and between. I’m going to find them today in preparation for meals for the next few days.

A place of beauty

I am putting the garden to sleep. I pull finished plants and mix the soil with manure from the island horse farms. When I still lived in Toronto I learned how to ‘lasagne’ the garden by placing cardboard and newspaper over the entire ground. That allows it to decompose into the soil. Our garden on Whalley Road will benefit from that too.

Nature provides space for change. As I prepare for the winter months I notice the absence of birds and the increase of squirrel activity. We too are readying ourselves for the change of temperature and the coming of rain. “We can do this,” I think to myself.

The rains are pouring. It is our first autumn on Gabriola living in a yurt. How wonderful to have this beautiful structure to rest in. It’s warm, thanks to the blazing fire we maintain in the wood stove. We have no shortage of fine wood to contribute to the fire. And the round frame of our abode is solid and secure.

The rain pounds on the canvas. At times it is thunderous…a gentle thunder that reminds me how lucky we are to have this protection.

Feeling 'ready'

Sunday morning brings a calm to my life. Coffee, Yoga, chatting with friends and family. I am still connected to the outside world! And I reflect upon the strong connection I have with self. The change, for me, is noticeable.

The slugs occupy my toothbrush holder in our washing basin again. Spiders carefully construct their webs under our hand-made roofs, providing more protection than would have been available before. I carefully remove my sugar bowl from the shelf to avoid destroying the intricate web.

Change is good. The New Year comes upon me with wonder and a rejuvenated anticipation of what lies ahead. It certainly feels like a Shana Tova!

Co-Existence

Night Visitors

I am settled comfortably in our tent. The night is quiet and calm. There is not a sound around me. I am thinking about the idea of coexistence. Our outside kitchen not far from where our tent, is where we make delicious meals right here on our land. Unlike before, we no longer have to go out to restaurants to satisfy our hunger. Built solidly between two trees, the kitchen is supported on the backside with strong shelves that hold jars and containers full of bulk foods. Grains, legumes, cereals and sauces are carefully packaged in raccoon safe containers. Mice just love our outside kitchen. It’s a challenge to keep it absolutely clean. Inevitably there are a few crumbs from morning breakfast stuck under the rim of the sink. Or leftover juices from our last meal still present on the counter top.

Regularly during the night I am awakened by the tap tapping of mice feet scampering past my head right outside the tent. I am not scared. If these mice were running past my head in my house in Toronto, I would be freaking out.

Sometimes racoons check out our kitchen supply. They are cunning and agile. Sneaking up quietly in the middle of the night (actually they’re quite cute) opening jars with their skinny hands and tossing aside what they don’t want to eat. From the opening of our tent we groggily throw stones trying to scare them away. Although I do like these animals in a way, I don’t like them eating our food, disturbing our kitchen and waking us up. So we build a cabinet with a door for our shelves! We string bungee chords around our refrigerator, in case the racoons figure out how to open the fridge. We’re not going to let them eat our food!

Mouse hide-away

Our outhouse presents yet another perspective. Recently I was surprised to find a mouse in the pail of our composting toilet. Though lately I have learned to check the toilet before I sit, I’ll never forget that first time! How does a mouse get in there in the first place? And how do they ever expect to get out? Our toilet seat is completely closed on top of a removable 5-gallon pail. The mouse somehow squeezes under the seat and falls far down into the pail, then struggles to climb up again. Imagine falling into a well! The pail is emptied regularly onto a compost heap next to the outhouse. Sometimes we need to empty it specifically in order to release the mouse.

A Spider's 'home'

A spider has spun a web in the corner of our outside washing room and seems to live there comfortably. She seems to know she is safe. Paul and I lean carefully around the glistening perfect web the spider has woven to reach our electric toothbrush handle. Once I almost destroyed the web, forgetting about our little friend. But I immediately felt the sticky threads on my hands and pulled back. I even heard myself say “Oooops. I’m so sorry!” out loud. To a spider!!!!! As if she was upset with me.

This year there was sighting of a bear on Gabriola. Generally there are no bears here. It is difficult for bears to swim from Vancouver Island and because Gabriola is so small, it’s probably not worth it for them. When the bear was sighted last spring, Gabriolans were informed about how to keep the bear away. “Put all food away. Clean out bird feeders. Wash your barbeque before going inside. Avoid putting out garbage too early.” Although the bear was found on the other side of the island, Paul and I took precautions. We also figured, if the bear were just a little bit smart, he would definitely visit us since we live outside and it would be easiest for him/her to find food. We never saw the bear. We think he’s gone now.

Slug(ish)

When it rains the slugs come out. Thick, rubbery, slow moving, they slither verrrry slowly across the land trailing a sticky slime as they move. I don’t like slugs! I avoid any contact with them. I definitely don’t want to step on one. My foot might become buried in slime and I can’t even imagine what that would feel like. And yet my stepson Josh and I joke often about barbequing some of them for our next non-vegetarian meal. Co-existing!

The many deer on Gabriola are beautiful, and they remind me to drive carefully. The deer look sweet and gentle. They seem to take such good care of their babies. They prance gracefully through the forest, and are not afraid of people. And… they destroy our gardens! On Gabriola there is no point to plant a garden unless you protect that garden first with a deer-proof fence. The deer are beautiful! They’re precious. I wouldn’t hurt one for anything! And I do everything I can to keep them away from our garden!

Sometimes, co-existing means setting boundaries and taking the steps necessary to make those boundaries understood! We can learn to live in the wild, and, to some degree, we can help the wild learn to live with us.  That's co-existing!

Circles

There’s a circle ‘round the moon

It settles through the night

The stars are serenaded

And illuminates with light.

Circles are thus holy

With beginnings all around

The endings are invisible

The timelessness profound.

The centre of the circles

Warm me from within

I’m hugged by my surroundings

And feel the calm settle in

There’s a circle ‘round the moon tonight

A reflection of our lives

The journey that we sail upon

Epitomize our times

There’s a circle round the moon tonight

It cradles me with love

As I think about our lives tonight

I thank the stars above

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!