little voice

for so long i have lived in a realm of hope, laughter and safety.

there is so much that you don't tell a child and so much that you do.

i loved that my role was to speak hope and excitement into people, to help them see
the amazing person that they already were and to help them dream of what they would do
about it :)

to celebrate them! and in turn to explore the wonderful illimitable everyday. From raindrops
to roses, from whiskers to kittens. It was fantastic! It was a real fairytale.

Sure, there were tears and there is trauma. But in some way, I was sheltered from really
being shocked into silence at the world. It is not that there isn't hope, but I am just not sure if
people will get there at the rate we're going.

I want to believe that one person can make a difference, that each little change helps. That
telling kids to be kind to animals and to re-use things will help to mend the present maltreatment of
animals and somehow protect a forest and save at least one polar bear.

But I can't help but really believe it will take more.
And I think, deep down, I'm terrified that I won't be able to keep dreaming and playing and laughing.

As an educator too much is at stake. You have a chance to love and to teach. You have a platform where some of the students will listen and some might be impacted forever by how you treat them and how you live in the world.

It all overwhelms me.

I think. for the very first time. unemployment has been a way of stopping the conveyor belt i was on.
it's a shock for sure. i am no longer moving forward. but, like having loud music turned off.. i feel like i am hearing myself.

listening to something. Someone.

hearing the little me inside me, the real me, the one i have always been - since consciousness, and maybe long before..

and it is saying, " i don't know. i'm scared. we need eachother. we are always moving apart.. i feel it.

and it is asking, "why do we waste so much of life doing what hurts us. for money? it can't be just that. i am so confused. is there anywhere i can stand to balance the earth. is there anything i can say. is there anyone who can say - a word - to heal all of us?"

and it is crying...just a little. but it is grateful too.

suddenly seen

a dear friend just wrote to me, and i feel as though my whole blog could end.

i feel at peace. real, breathe in-breathe out, peace.



i feel understood and i feel suddenly like maybe so much that i feel i need to change, tweak and remake of myself is perhaps not so necessary.



i want to be humble, i want to see my faults and not so much the faults of others.

this is so very true and necessary, but i also want to be gentle - even kind to myself in the process



reading her inspirational reminder about the early years of development being largely due to imitation, i suddenly feel like, maybe it's not terrible that i imitate others, in their ways or life, their interests, their values. Maybe it's not so important to be sure of who i am, and that it's okay to be a blend of those i've encountered. Maybe, identity comes from identifying.



anyway, i can't help it. I'm not trying to be someone else, i'm not wishing myself away, I'm just so in love with others I become them.



Not everyone, mind you. But certain people I have known. Their voices, their laughter, their drawings, their thoughts, their questions have formed me.



I know that much of me is my mom and dad too. This is harder for me to be open too.

To see parts of me in vivid overwhelming brightness! It is too much.



I am not able to unravel myself and begin again. It is a beautiful thought, but I think I would be left

with absolute clarity, but would have lost much of my sight.



I wonder if it's not only people that make me, but flowers and clouds, overheard whispers and the night darkness.



I have not lost my wonder. I only hide it because not everyone is safe to trust.



"Look world, Look!!!" and once again, I want to tell everyone about a black bunny in a small grassy place - who is frightened and thumping his foot hard against the earth.



I have NEVER seen a bunny stomp his foot.



It's fear and bravery. It is a struggle. It is a moment of decision, before the bunny flees.

It is hope, it is wondering if maybe things will be okay while it's heart races and tells it something might be very wrong.

the rabbit flees..but only a little ways, before stopping to nibble at the grass.

trusting again.


It seems that it is true, Sometimes, "The most radical thing you can do is to stay put"

Gary Snyder


this post is dediated to child-hood friends and little black rabbits.

The Chanting Circle

I feel like this night might become an important part of my journey ..

It wouldn't be at all anything out of the blue for Islanders, but for those in Ontario and elsewhere
this might be something new.

I was invited to attend a chanting circle, and eagerly accepted. I did not know what to expect, but
I love being in a circle of people. Whether it's around the campfire, a sleepover gathering on my bed,
stella-ella-olla on the playground, ring-a-round the rosie with some children.

I very much belong in circles.

I was dropped off just outside of a small cabin type home, surrounded by trees. A dog ran up to me barking and I asked if he was dangerous, I'm not a dog person and I really think they can sense my fear, anyway, I was told she was not and then welcomed into the home by a man I did not know.

I entered the room and there was a circle of chairs and two candles lit in the very centre of the place.
There was a door on the otherside, not far from me, opening onto the forest and breeze outside. There were two bird houses and a white cat.

I was welcomed by a woman who was preparing for the evening, and I smiled warmly and told both of them my name. Then I waited for everyone else

When the others arrived, they were told to take off their shoes, but when I went to do likewise, the man I had first met, winked and said it wasn't necessary. I felt so special, getting to keep my shoes on. They were simple tatami sandals and i felt they just fit. If we had been outside I definitely would have gone barefoot, but i was happy to be allowed to stay as I was.

When most people had arrived, I found out that we hugged.

I am not opposed to hugging. Quite often hugs happen for me almost unconsciously. I have hugged strangers and people I've met on the street. I love hugs!  However, this was a little bit uncomfortable for me, since the first person to hug me was a man in his early forties, I'm guessing, maybe older who explained how we hug left to left so that our hearts touch. I tried to go with it, to trust, but I couldn't help feeling that this guy was quite the initiation into coercive intimacy. I did my best, and then hugged others, after perhaps awkwardly offering a handshake as a bridge to the hug.

Then we all stood together arms around eachothers backs in a tight circle and the chanting began.

I came very close to laughing aloud since it really and truly was an "ohmmmmmmm" I did not have a clue what I was doing, but I just joined in. At one point I wondered if we were suppose to be staring at eachother - that perhaps that was part of the unity, so I glanced up and found everyone had their eyes closed. Chanting tends to lend itself to that naturally, and so I resumed my position of eyes closed or eyes open head bowed.

There was a brief, strangely normal moment when the leader discussed books and video's available to the group, and the members there discussed upcoming performances and an end of year bbq. This chatting seemed very out of place and to me, a new comer, a bit info-mercial like. But it also lent a certain normalcy to the whole thing too.

After all, no one was anything mystical or frightening. We were just people chanting, singing, coming together with one voice. In terms of performances, it turns out that there were opportunities for them to chant in Native communities, and festivals. Very cool.

Then we continued for the rest of the evening, and what did we continue doing.

Speaking in other languages, following new rythms, listening to the leaders deep barotone perfectly intune. We sang. We lifted our voices in an almost accapella sound, although we were so blessed by a drums and guitar.

The chants were Indian, B'ahai, Jewish, Spanish and more I couldn't disciphere. There were stories told about the meaning and invocation of the chants. It was the closest I had come in a long long time to feeling like I was apart of a community in another culture, in another country.

Tea ceremony, ikebana flower arrangement, the monks of Japan. The openess of homes and the importance of taking time with people, of Mexico. These two places where I belonged and wanted to stay forever.

I miss that life terribly.

It was so wonderful to feel that I had found a little of that, here in Canada.
It was not the same, but it was enough of a taste of it, to remind me of myself. How much I long for
being placed in a new language, to learn and to grow constantly in the presence of others.

The best of me seems to be disappearing into others lives and voices.
The less I actually understand, the more true I feel.

It was beautiful. Like listening to the Halleluhia chorus sung by many voices all blending together.

I wouldn't say that I felt anything mystical. There was no sense of floating or intensity of emotion, however, at times, when we sang certain notes, said certain words, I would feel like I could almost cry it was so beautiful. I longed to get to that word, that note again and again and again. Since chanting is all about repetition. It was a little journey each time, from the bottom to the top, from the darkness to the light, from the out of sync to the harmonized, from the faltering to the steady.

From beautiful to beautiful.

Afterwards, we put our hands together, bowed and said Namaste, and swept the smoke from the candles over ourselves and over everyone around us. Then we each had one chocolate covered mulbury sweet, so that the sweetness of our coming together would literally go with us as we left.

Happiness

So, when I first arrived here. I wandered down the street and walked into

Common Ground Cafe. I wasn't sure if I even had enough money for what I ordered, but it
was such an amazing place that I said to myself: I would stay here, just for this cafe.

Now, almost a whole year later. I have finally met the owners and have agreed to

spend a day working on their farm. I am hoping that it goes over well, and I am delighted
to have received such a caring welcome. I'm thankful that they both spoke with me for a while. The only time in the conversation that I felt awkward, was when they asked what I do and I said, well,

I recently moved here and I have my teaching degree, but it's not easy to find work. They were like,

“it's not”and I felt like, I just really don't want to think or talk about teaching. I need this to be something totally apart from that.

I am so excited that they invited me to come on a Friday night to celebrate with music, dance and a

meal before the Sabbath.

It is so nice that there is no commitment. I could go once a week, or I could go for a whole week.

I think it would be great to live on the farm, but I don't want to put the cart before the horse! In this case a very applicable image!

I only wish I had connected with them sooner – but i didn't know i could and presumed they would want someone with experience.

Best moment of the conversation, was when I said, I have never done this before but have always wanted to. They said, there's nothing worse than expert farmers, you can't teach them anything!” so I said, ' I can promise you inexperience! And smiled!

They laughed.

Maybe..

Maybe all I need is a break,

to somehow step off the conveyor belt of who I've been and where I've been headed.
to just dip into cold waters and come up new

I know i want to be plunked into a community - that i want to learn and grow.
to be part of

I'm heading down the street right now, to say I'm interested in working on a farm this summer.
I don't know what it will look like or if I can even handle that life.

But I know that my hands need to be in dirt. I have felt it for months.
I need to pursue the earth. I need to feel the sun or the rain. I need to plant something.

This could be the hardest thing I've ever done. It could be the best thing that ever happens to me.

I just hope they give me a chance, to be changed. . .

why is the wagon always red?

have you ever had it all come clear - and then woken up unexpectedly drowning in the black waters all over again..

it's not easy, this going backwards

Last night, I was gloriously surprised by free live music at my favourite place here so far, Zocalo's Cafe.. I arrived around 4:30pm and easily stayed till almost closing time.. I browsed a children's book and let the music carry me away until the place was transformed into all that is beautiful from that world of long ago where I have never lived, and only know of from books and movies.

I realized I'm happiest all alone. That's when I am free to live in the realm of the unreal, able to hear and see and feel SO much all around me. Able to laugh.

This is why it's not always so easy to find a kindred spirit.. as I think, at my very core, I'm more like a wide eyed baby.. which is one little bit of why I am not yet a Mom... I promise to write all about that sometime soon..

So everything was wonderful. I found myself once again, following a day designed by God.. much in the way someone might carefully plan an elaborate proposal.. turn here, go here, look someone to talk to, a small white butterfly glimpsed just before it disappears from view amoung white flowers on a tree, the sunlight, did you see that shadow? the sunlight.. look up..

A few times, while I've walked my street - I have smelled something so sweet, I know it must be the flowers, but I cannot find them anywhere..

This wonderful mystery of life.

but, this morning, I awake, sad.
unable to even imagine beginning the search for my place here.
overwhelmed with the thought of leaving this room

I know that just beyond.. almost the moment I step outside.. is all I need for healing..
yet.. I am just exhausted from this ride of hope and dispair..

i'm tired.
and feel that i have nothing to offer but brokeness

i am very much a shiny red wagon whose wheels are rusted from tears
who is afraid of what it might be like to be loved again, to be taken out and
to rolled along the sidewalk.. bump..bump..bump..

it seems that not much depends upon a little red wagon.. but rather
so much depends upon the child who loves it.

p.s.  now i want a wagon.