Ok, I've been working on this entry way too long. Not much blog-time these days, but it's been time well spent. :) I drafted this about 10 days ago, I'm just going to edit and post. There's lots more to say in the next entry...
So, 'the Rover' is back in Vancouver. Spent a few days on Quadra Island again, seeing my dog and some friends. My friend Gabriel thinks Nootka is his dog, but really - he's mine.
What is this entry about?, I ask myself. A feather (another one ;), a turn, a surprise, a long long wonderful road called life. A door. Where to begin?
There it was, suspended in the rain, in some thin bush, under a tree, on Rebecca Spit, on Quadra Island. A white tail feather from a bald eagle. As I said in "The Sea (it's warm and it's safe here)," - "in the mail!"
And again, I'm drinking beer and listening to the Tragically Hip. But this was not mailed to my bro, but to the mermaid in my life.
I guess this entry may be about faith.
I went to the spit with some friends. They brought beer, I did not. We wandered in the rain and chatted, the dogs chased each other, a giant white mutt and a pug, sweet friends. I shuffled through the beach-side debris, little chunks of wood ground up by the Sea. Dawdled. Stood. Conversation moved to something I couldn't keep my attention on.
My attention was in Halifax, so I walked off alone.
In 1993, living on the beach at Schooner Cove, the place "The Sea" is about, I was sitting one morning making breakfast, Gabriel was off being energetic, and there was no-one else around. The eagle flew over, the third or fourth day in a row this scene had happenned - he flew out to sea every day, it seemed, to fish for the day, a strange lifestyle - but he was a widower, and probably developed odd habits to ease his grief. His wife (they mate for life) was killed earlier that year for her feathers. I can hardly say anything about that on the internet that might not haunt me later...
Anyway, this particular morning, he flew over. I looked up. Said, 'good morning' as had become our custom. As I put my head down I said/thought, wtf?? and looked back up. There was something - white, fluttering - in the sky behind/below him..
I watched, in awe, paralysed. Slowly it fluttered down, and without my moving a muscle, landed right between my feet. It was a white tail feather. Like he had dropped it on me. He had.
I was stunned and humbled and awed.
I picked it up, held it resting in my two hands, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever held in my life, not just because of what it was, but how it came to me.
Acquisitiveness -the desire to possess something, I learned that word from Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse. I felt that all of a sudden: I wanted it. It was such a powerful symbol, thing - like the ring in the Lord of the Rings. Immediately I said to myself, "no, Pat, you must give it away." And I said secretly inside myself, "if the Universe (God, whoever) really wants you to have this - it will find its way back to you."
As soon as my friend Gabriel came back to camp I gave it to him. He said to me at some point in that period, "Pat, you should be an environmental lawyer.." I couldn't see that as a possibility then. It takes years to open doors in your mind, and heart. To let yourself see the worlds that lie at your feet.
In 2008 I was living in Edmonton and went back to Tofino for the first time since 1993. I reconnected with those old friends from the beach. I moved to Toronto that May to article with MOE, and one of those friends sent me a care package 'from the beach.' No-one knew the eagle story.
I opened it, and pulled out a white tail feather. My friend Martha had found it on the beach by our old campsite, the first one she'd ever found, and immediatley thought, "that's for Pat." Of course, for those who know me - I cried a bit. It was the Universe saying to me, loud and clear - "Everything you need, everything you should have, will be given to you, you don't need to worry, seek it out, or cling to it." It said, "jump, and I will always catch you."
I wouldn't be here if not for that.
Part of that, for me, was jumping into being alone. Although I certainly haven't felt alone. But the risk has been ever present. And I've been vastly single for quite some time (until very recently). And it's about embracing the uncertainty of life, because if you're going to let go and let the Universe give you what you should have - you have to be willing to risk that there are certain things you shouldn't have.
So, when I found the white tail feather, hanging in a branch, I knew it was for her, the bad mermaid, good mermaid, damsel, and 'buddy', in my life. She is also a little bird, and a giant soul. You have it now. As I let go of the feather back then, what I let go of in this journey, over the late summer and fall, was my hopes for love in my life. Not that I gave up, I just let go.
And, in traipsing off into the wilderness of life, the great unknown future, following my bliss, I have found a door I didn't know was there. Or it found me.
The Universe will always give you what you should have. Perhaps more readily if you let it go. And I - am soaring with gratitude.
As a traveller, what do you do when a new door opens for you, a door where formerly there was nothing? And you can see a whole new world of possibilities; green fields, sunshine. How many of these doors do we get in life? I've talked, at times in a not-so-humble way, about making leaps of faith, having the courage to step out and put myself at risk, will I step through? Have I already? ;) Can I admit to being scared?
cause in the 'fergit yer skates' dream
you can hang your head in woe
as diverse as ever scenes
You know which way to go
I think I know which way to go...
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
No White Flag (the Rover and the Mermaid)
I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be
This song, White Flag - by Dido, I woke up with it in my head 3 days in a row. Each day I asked, why, what's that about?
Maybe I'm neurotic, but it became part of my dream journaling years ago - to note the song in my head as I awoke. I sometimes couldn't remember the actual dream, so instead I'd write down what I was feeling as I woke up. Not only does it tell me something about me, but it maintains the dialogue.
Then I started noticing that some mornings I'd wake up with a certain song in my head, and when I could recall my dream there was almost always a connection. When I couldn't I often found meaning in the song alone.
I was working on some stuff for my Dad's estate last week. It was daunting. I could have easily done a less thorough job, and let the lawyers tidy it up. The song inspired me - to not surrender, but to push through, and keep giving my best effort until the end. Which paid off.
Then another morning, and another. I think it's about everything in my life right now (yes, that too!).
I had a storage space to clean out. Between catching up with friends, visitng my Aunt in hospital, and the estate stuff, I left it till the last day. Part of me said, 'you can't finish it - why bother? Just leave it for next time." Dido said otherwise. I went, and did a lot, threw stuff out, gave stuff away, Arthur helped, and a new/old friend offered to take some too. It's not done, but I feel good about the progress I made. So, my last days in Halifax were spent learning a life lesson. One I feel like I used to know, but now maybe I can take it deeper. It is: whatever time you have - use it, if there is a hope - there should be action to realize that hope, it doesn't matter how slim the chances of success, or if it's the eleventh hour.
Clearly - it's about this escapade of mine as well. I certainly feel today, after a good night's sleep - undaunted. The thought of, "I will go down with this ship" doesn't mean - I'm going to steer this ship down (into the rocks), it means - I will steer between those rocks, past Scylla and Charybdis, no... charge between them. And if I fail, and the ship goes down, I'll go with it.
It's a comittment to 'going for it'.
The 'in love' part of the song - yes, I am. With myself, with life... more?? This whole trip has been about being in love with life, I have felt very much in love. And - two days ago, going through the storage space - I found an Irish wedding bracelet. It's woven silver, really beautiful. I had given it to my ex while in Galway with her in 1997, she gave it back after we split up. I thought, what the hell am I going to do with this? The Celts gave it instead of a wedding ring, back in the day. I didn't want to be married to anyone. Then I thought, 'well, this trip has also been about the conjunction of opposites - the 'marriage' of my masculine and feminine halves - I'll give it to myself!' It's nice to be loved. ;)
And I met a little mermaid in Halifax, a very sweet, wonderful woman. Well, really - we met years ago - but I was married. :( So how can this song which keeps coming back to me not be about that too?
It clearly is.
I'm reading The Rover right now, by Joseph Conrad. It's about a wandering seaman come to shore (so far) and has brought back all my mental imagery of the sea. In this case the ship I think of is The Spray - Joshua Slocum's sloop in which he sailed alone around the world in 1895-8. Funny, I just noticed his journey started in Sambro Nova Scotia, about 10 km south of where I grew up. I picture that intrepid little boat charging forth, into challenging and unknown seas, thrilled right down to her ironwood prow at the challenge and risk ahead.
I had what was for me a revolutionary thought as I walked up the steps to my Aunts place in Clayton park on New Years Eve day - that maybe in love it wasn't about finding the person I'm 'meant' to be with, but simply finding someone I'm compatible with, and choosing to build a good relationship. That's revolutionary for me because I see everything from the spiritual perspective- too much so at times. The reality is probably somewhere in between.
But then I did carry the thought to the rest of my life, a discussion I've had with myself before, and is most easily summed up in the quote from Terminator II - "no fate - no fate but what we make."
And I can see this is going to be a theme for me in 2011, to make the life I want: to make my destiny. I quoted Carlos Castaneda in a previous entry, but don't think I quite understood it.
"For me there is only the traveling on paths that have heart, on any path that may have heart, and the only worthwhile challenge is to traverse its full length--and there I travel looking, looking breathlessly."
I got the breathlessly part, and the heart, but not the full length. That's also what this song is about for me - that it's not easy to travel one path's full length, but that, if you don't - it's a waste of time to step onto it at all.
I'm in Vancouver now, must find work, continue to grow, the journey goes on. After all this time of living life utterly on my own terms my batteries are pretty full, I feel like I have gotten over another hump of fear and self-doubt, and can see a huge vista before me ...a path paved with heart leading through it, in work, life, love - there will be no white flags.
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be
This song, White Flag - by Dido, I woke up with it in my head 3 days in a row. Each day I asked, why, what's that about?
Maybe I'm neurotic, but it became part of my dream journaling years ago - to note the song in my head as I awoke. I sometimes couldn't remember the actual dream, so instead I'd write down what I was feeling as I woke up. Not only does it tell me something about me, but it maintains the dialogue.
Then I started noticing that some mornings I'd wake up with a certain song in my head, and when I could recall my dream there was almost always a connection. When I couldn't I often found meaning in the song alone.
I was working on some stuff for my Dad's estate last week. It was daunting. I could have easily done a less thorough job, and let the lawyers tidy it up. The song inspired me - to not surrender, but to push through, and keep giving my best effort until the end. Which paid off.
Then another morning, and another. I think it's about everything in my life right now (yes, that too!).
I had a storage space to clean out. Between catching up with friends, visitng my Aunt in hospital, and the estate stuff, I left it till the last day. Part of me said, 'you can't finish it - why bother? Just leave it for next time." Dido said otherwise. I went, and did a lot, threw stuff out, gave stuff away, Arthur helped, and a new/old friend offered to take some too. It's not done, but I feel good about the progress I made. So, my last days in Halifax were spent learning a life lesson. One I feel like I used to know, but now maybe I can take it deeper. It is: whatever time you have - use it, if there is a hope - there should be action to realize that hope, it doesn't matter how slim the chances of success, or if it's the eleventh hour.
Clearly - it's about this escapade of mine as well. I certainly feel today, after a good night's sleep - undaunted. The thought of, "I will go down with this ship" doesn't mean - I'm going to steer this ship down (into the rocks), it means - I will steer between those rocks, past Scylla and Charybdis, no... charge between them. And if I fail, and the ship goes down, I'll go with it.
It's a comittment to 'going for it'.
The 'in love' part of the song - yes, I am. With myself, with life... more?? This whole trip has been about being in love with life, I have felt very much in love. And - two days ago, going through the storage space - I found an Irish wedding bracelet. It's woven silver, really beautiful. I had given it to my ex while in Galway with her in 1997, she gave it back after we split up. I thought, what the hell am I going to do with this? The Celts gave it instead of a wedding ring, back in the day. I didn't want to be married to anyone. Then I thought, 'well, this trip has also been about the conjunction of opposites - the 'marriage' of my masculine and feminine halves - I'll give it to myself!' It's nice to be loved. ;)
And I met a little mermaid in Halifax, a very sweet, wonderful woman. Well, really - we met years ago - but I was married. :( So how can this song which keeps coming back to me not be about that too?
It clearly is.
I'm reading The Rover right now, by Joseph Conrad. It's about a wandering seaman come to shore (so far) and has brought back all my mental imagery of the sea. In this case the ship I think of is The Spray - Joshua Slocum's sloop in which he sailed alone around the world in 1895-8. Funny, I just noticed his journey started in Sambro Nova Scotia, about 10 km south of where I grew up. I picture that intrepid little boat charging forth, into challenging and unknown seas, thrilled right down to her ironwood prow at the challenge and risk ahead.
I had what was for me a revolutionary thought as I walked up the steps to my Aunts place in Clayton park on New Years Eve day - that maybe in love it wasn't about finding the person I'm 'meant' to be with, but simply finding someone I'm compatible with, and choosing to build a good relationship. That's revolutionary for me because I see everything from the spiritual perspective- too much so at times. The reality is probably somewhere in between.
But then I did carry the thought to the rest of my life, a discussion I've had with myself before, and is most easily summed up in the quote from Terminator II - "no fate - no fate but what we make."
And I can see this is going to be a theme for me in 2011, to make the life I want: to make my destiny. I quoted Carlos Castaneda in a previous entry, but don't think I quite understood it.
"For me there is only the traveling on paths that have heart, on any path that may have heart, and the only worthwhile challenge is to traverse its full length--and there I travel looking, looking breathlessly."
I got the breathlessly part, and the heart, but not the full length. That's also what this song is about for me - that it's not easy to travel one path's full length, but that, if you don't - it's a waste of time to step onto it at all.
I'm in Vancouver now, must find work, continue to grow, the journey goes on. After all this time of living life utterly on my own terms my batteries are pretty full, I feel like I have gotten over another hump of fear and self-doubt, and can see a huge vista before me ...a path paved with heart leading through it, in work, life, love - there will be no white flags.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
The visitor, the lamp, killing time
Everyone has their limits. Everyone gets what they want. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I think I'm doing with my life. Am I trying to prove something? Just innocently taking time off?
What is my limit? At what point will I set sail for home?
Perhaps this is too frank, but - I am at the end of my financial rope, all credit cards maxed out, bills starting to go unpaid, no money in the bank and none on its way. - it's really time to start working. But at what?
I did as I planned in "Irish Faerie" - I applied for a few jobs, and let God decide where I was going next, or at least begin to. They were: two posted jobs in Asia, one in Singapore, the other Hong Kong, and a firm in Vancouver that wasn't hiring. It was the firm in Van I heard from, we met and they may have a place for me in the new year. That would be fantastic, they do great work! But, in my meanderings, I also met someone at a First Nation I would love to work with, and they may have work for me too. Or neither might. Working directly for the First Nation, on the project envisioned, is an absolute once in a lifetime opportunity. That would open every door I want open in my professional path, and some in my personal journey too (as if there's any difference anymore!).
"Never get outta the boat. Never get outta the fuckin' boat - not unless you're gonna go all the way." - Captain Willard said that in Apocalypse Now, on their way up the river. He and the cook had gone into the jungle for water and a tiger attacked them (kind of half-heartedly). He followed it with, "Kurtz got outta the boat."
If, in choosing a particular lifestyle for myself, I have gotten out of the boat - what is my destination? Am I, ultimately, just killing time? In the big picture?... Again, how far am I willing to go?
I'm flying back to Vancouver in a few days. Do I buckle down and be responsible, or take further professional and personal risks? I think the important thing is, whatever I do - to do it consciously and intentionally, and from my heart. I have a feeling that if I take the riskier road - it may lead somewhere nice; a high mountain, bright sunshine, or something unknown, as I awaken in the big country.
This is My fold,
O thou ram horn'd with gold,
Who awakest from sleep
On the sides of the deep.
On the mountains around
The roarings resound
Of the lion and wolf,
The loud sea, and deep gulf.
Like in a yoga pose, when you start to tremble and think you can't hold it any longer, but you say to yourself - 'just a little more, it's ok,' so I have said to myself on this journey a few times. And now at last - I really can't see how to hold it any longer. And that, I suppose - is the place where beauty lies.
And again I notice - as the day approaches to get on a plane (2 days!), that increase in energy, drive, happiness - to get in a car, on a plane, it doesn't matter where I'm going, or where I'm coming from.
And there's also that moment that I've been wanting to write about since I started this blog, and I'll probably only start to describe it here. I'd love to quote some poetry but I've never heard anyone describe it before, and I don't know if anyone else even feels it. I felt it.. last night, two nights ago? I haven't named it yet, I don't know if I will, or can.
The first time I recognized it was in Quebec in 1993, I was visiting some friends in Granby on my second hitchhike across Canada. It was evening, we were sitting around a campfire, I was with a girl I had been in love with the year before, her boyfriend, and their friends. They were singing and playing guitars, I was the visitor. That may be a good temporary nickname for the feeling; "the visitor."
I was sitting, leaned back on a camp chair, in the half light and firelight. I looked at them all, and I saw the spectrum of my life; that I was here today, that I would be somewhere else tomorrow, and many many places in turn... I don't know - the transitoriness of it all, the profundity, to care deeply for people, to love and enjoy a moment, and to also see it for what it is - something that will pass. I've felt it maybe a dozen times in my life - usually when I was travelling, but not always.
2009, August - again, sitting by a campfire, not sure if it was even burning. Ontario, Madoc to be specific. I was at the camper of my fiancee. Our relationship was crumbling, and rapidly. Honestly - I had thought we were 'soul mates,' and she the answer to all my dreams of another person. Sitting alone by the fire, in a camp chair (strangely enough) I was reflective, and there it came again - that feeling: that this was just a moment in time. I was happy and sad. Crushed to see the truth. Liberated by the truth.
All things are transitory.
Andre. Vancouver Island, probably August again, 1992. I had met two sisters on Long Beach, from Granby(Yes, one was the girl mentioned above), one I fell for, the other was a great friend, and we travelled together around Vancouver Island for about three weeks.
Somewhere around Sooke - we met a guy named Andre, he picked us up hitchhiking. He was Quebecois, a traveller. He had some amazing travel stories from all over the world, a scar on his face from a machete attack on some beach in Central America, a cool guy. As we sat and listened to his stories, and started to see a pattern, Jessica said, "it seems like you're always alone in your stories, do you always travel alone?" A shadow crossed his face, he paused, and said, "always alone, ... always alone."
What could we say to that? We said nothing, we left. I feared it. I feared to be like him, or others I met, brighter or darker, richer or poorer, who had taken the road of 'The Road' and lived great lives, but been alone, always separate.
September, 2010. Mt. Shasta, Northern California. I know I've mentioned this before, did I also mention that I used to make fun of Mt. Shasta, in my mind, because I had some 'pseudo-spiritual' friends that talked big about it? I am repentant. Of my now more than six months of travel - those two days were the tipping point, in so many ways.
Ultimately - "we are all just visitors here" - how do we want to make each moment be?
I was driving in my car, approaching what I have since come to consider a sacred place, and I felt acutely how I had been alone for days, driving up from LA, staying in little hotels, long days, listening to the music I wanted, loving life and what my eyes were drinking in - rolling green mountains, orchards, cities, coasts, human life and nature in synchronicity. I felt it, I felt myself as a visitor, the feeling was fleet, returned later and stayed with me into the next day; as I climbed and clambered on the mountain, cried and laughed, at the absolute beauty of the place, at the wonder of my being there, alone - to feel it and experience it in all its fullness.
In that moment in the car, approaching, I realized all at once - I was, A - happy to be alone, B - not alone. I had come home to 'Me.' I felt as 'unlonely' as I ever had in my life.
The feeling was sustained.
After I walked on her a bit I drove into town and rented a cheap motel and spent the whole next day up there. With 'Andre.' With me. With a Mountain. A mountain is a person. They are beings. I know that sounds crazy, but maybe you haven't spent enough time there. Maybe I haven't..
And yet, at the same time, that feeling came to me over and over again, in waves. Of being a 'visitor', of 'just passing through.' It was the point where I finally came to peace with it; I am who I am. My nature is to travel, I don't actually know what that means, for the shape of my life, but I love it, and me, and I don't feel afraid of Andre anymore. I feel, perhaps arrogantly, like I have gone beyond that point - that this sense of peace and happiness is not fleeting. The only fleeting aspect of it is if I turn my back on it, on my Self. Andre, Shasta, and everyone else - are welcome to hop into the bus and come along.
If it is my nature to be energized by travel, then certainly my life, the days, moments, people, that I experience, attract, have, the things I do and the passion I put into everything - will be better, because of that.
Of course, there will be moments coming up of fear and doubt, I will turn my eye back to shore at some points, at least for a moment. I may seek safety, I may go farther, I don't know.
But this energy, this power, is the most alive thing in me right now, so I will try to hold the course.
Burn, then, little lamp ; glimmer straight and clear -
Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air :
He (She?)* for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me ;
Strange power ! I trust thy might ; trust thou my
constancy.
What is my limit? At what point will I set sail for home?
Perhaps this is too frank, but - I am at the end of my financial rope, all credit cards maxed out, bills starting to go unpaid, no money in the bank and none on its way. - it's really time to start working. But at what?
I did as I planned in "Irish Faerie" - I applied for a few jobs, and let God decide where I was going next, or at least begin to. They were: two posted jobs in Asia, one in Singapore, the other Hong Kong, and a firm in Vancouver that wasn't hiring. It was the firm in Van I heard from, we met and they may have a place for me in the new year. That would be fantastic, they do great work! But, in my meanderings, I also met someone at a First Nation I would love to work with, and they may have work for me too. Or neither might. Working directly for the First Nation, on the project envisioned, is an absolute once in a lifetime opportunity. That would open every door I want open in my professional path, and some in my personal journey too (as if there's any difference anymore!).
"Never get outta the boat. Never get outta the fuckin' boat - not unless you're gonna go all the way." - Captain Willard said that in Apocalypse Now, on their way up the river. He and the cook had gone into the jungle for water and a tiger attacked them (kind of half-heartedly). He followed it with, "Kurtz got outta the boat."
If, in choosing a particular lifestyle for myself, I have gotten out of the boat - what is my destination? Am I, ultimately, just killing time? In the big picture?... Again, how far am I willing to go?
I'm flying back to Vancouver in a few days. Do I buckle down and be responsible, or take further professional and personal risks? I think the important thing is, whatever I do - to do it consciously and intentionally, and from my heart. I have a feeling that if I take the riskier road - it may lead somewhere nice; a high mountain, bright sunshine, or something unknown, as I awaken in the big country.
This is My fold,
O thou ram horn'd with gold,
Who awakest from sleep
On the sides of the deep.
On the mountains around
The roarings resound
Of the lion and wolf,
The loud sea, and deep gulf.
Like in a yoga pose, when you start to tremble and think you can't hold it any longer, but you say to yourself - 'just a little more, it's ok,' so I have said to myself on this journey a few times. And now at last - I really can't see how to hold it any longer. And that, I suppose - is the place where beauty lies.
And again I notice - as the day approaches to get on a plane (2 days!), that increase in energy, drive, happiness - to get in a car, on a plane, it doesn't matter where I'm going, or where I'm coming from.
And there's also that moment that I've been wanting to write about since I started this blog, and I'll probably only start to describe it here. I'd love to quote some poetry but I've never heard anyone describe it before, and I don't know if anyone else even feels it. I felt it.. last night, two nights ago? I haven't named it yet, I don't know if I will, or can.
The first time I recognized it was in Quebec in 1993, I was visiting some friends in Granby on my second hitchhike across Canada. It was evening, we were sitting around a campfire, I was with a girl I had been in love with the year before, her boyfriend, and their friends. They were singing and playing guitars, I was the visitor. That may be a good temporary nickname for the feeling; "the visitor."
I was sitting, leaned back on a camp chair, in the half light and firelight. I looked at them all, and I saw the spectrum of my life; that I was here today, that I would be somewhere else tomorrow, and many many places in turn... I don't know - the transitoriness of it all, the profundity, to care deeply for people, to love and enjoy a moment, and to also see it for what it is - something that will pass. I've felt it maybe a dozen times in my life - usually when I was travelling, but not always.
2009, August - again, sitting by a campfire, not sure if it was even burning. Ontario, Madoc to be specific. I was at the camper of my fiancee. Our relationship was crumbling, and rapidly. Honestly - I had thought we were 'soul mates,' and she the answer to all my dreams of another person. Sitting alone by the fire, in a camp chair (strangely enough) I was reflective, and there it came again - that feeling: that this was just a moment in time. I was happy and sad. Crushed to see the truth. Liberated by the truth.
All things are transitory.
Andre. Vancouver Island, probably August again, 1992. I had met two sisters on Long Beach, from Granby(Yes, one was the girl mentioned above), one I fell for, the other was a great friend, and we travelled together around Vancouver Island for about three weeks.
Somewhere around Sooke - we met a guy named Andre, he picked us up hitchhiking. He was Quebecois, a traveller. He had some amazing travel stories from all over the world, a scar on his face from a machete attack on some beach in Central America, a cool guy. As we sat and listened to his stories, and started to see a pattern, Jessica said, "it seems like you're always alone in your stories, do you always travel alone?" A shadow crossed his face, he paused, and said, "always alone, ... always alone."
What could we say to that? We said nothing, we left. I feared it. I feared to be like him, or others I met, brighter or darker, richer or poorer, who had taken the road of 'The Road' and lived great lives, but been alone, always separate.
September, 2010. Mt. Shasta, Northern California. I know I've mentioned this before, did I also mention that I used to make fun of Mt. Shasta, in my mind, because I had some 'pseudo-spiritual' friends that talked big about it? I am repentant. Of my now more than six months of travel - those two days were the tipping point, in so many ways.
Ultimately - "we are all just visitors here" - how do we want to make each moment be?
I was driving in my car, approaching what I have since come to consider a sacred place, and I felt acutely how I had been alone for days, driving up from LA, staying in little hotels, long days, listening to the music I wanted, loving life and what my eyes were drinking in - rolling green mountains, orchards, cities, coasts, human life and nature in synchronicity. I felt it, I felt myself as a visitor, the feeling was fleet, returned later and stayed with me into the next day; as I climbed and clambered on the mountain, cried and laughed, at the absolute beauty of the place, at the wonder of my being there, alone - to feel it and experience it in all its fullness.
In that moment in the car, approaching, I realized all at once - I was, A - happy to be alone, B - not alone. I had come home to 'Me.' I felt as 'unlonely' as I ever had in my life.
The feeling was sustained.
After I walked on her a bit I drove into town and rented a cheap motel and spent the whole next day up there. With 'Andre.' With me. With a Mountain. A mountain is a person. They are beings. I know that sounds crazy, but maybe you haven't spent enough time there. Maybe I haven't..
And yet, at the same time, that feeling came to me over and over again, in waves. Of being a 'visitor', of 'just passing through.' It was the point where I finally came to peace with it; I am who I am. My nature is to travel, I don't actually know what that means, for the shape of my life, but I love it, and me, and I don't feel afraid of Andre anymore. I feel, perhaps arrogantly, like I have gone beyond that point - that this sense of peace and happiness is not fleeting. The only fleeting aspect of it is if I turn my back on it, on my Self. Andre, Shasta, and everyone else - are welcome to hop into the bus and come along.
If it is my nature to be energized by travel, then certainly my life, the days, moments, people, that I experience, attract, have, the things I do and the passion I put into everything - will be better, because of that.
Of course, there will be moments coming up of fear and doubt, I will turn my eye back to shore at some points, at least for a moment. I may seek safety, I may go farther, I don't know.
But this energy, this power, is the most alive thing in me right now, so I will try to hold the course.
Burn, then, little lamp ; glimmer straight and clear -
Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air :
He (She?)* for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me ;
Strange power ! I trust thy might ; trust thou my
constancy.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Heartwood Standard and the health food tour of the world...
I grew up in Halifax, Nova Scotia. I ate crap when I was young. By the time I was in my early twenties it was starting to show: poor health, no energy, generally unwell. Then, with the stress of getting married at 24 and my Mom dying shortly thereafter - I ended up pretty sick with stomach and intestinal problems - later diagnosed as candidiasis.
In that time I went through all kinds of crazy diets - gluten free, starch free, taste-free, sugar (even including fruit) free... Ug!
I later got better, through a 16-day Master Cleanser fast which cleaned my body out and basically pressed the reset button on my health. But I am lactose intolerant, sugar bugs me, so I avoid it if possible, white flour is nutritionless glue (a separate rant) and I even eat gluten free when possible just for variety and to give my body a break. In the name of being healthy so I can do my work and enjoy it, and life (a lot), I'm a bit of a health and health-food nut. No pun intended.
Back then, mid 90's, was when I discovered Heartwood Bakery, on Quinpool Road - it was, and still is, fantastic. Halifax is not a big city, 3-400,000 people. I always assumed bigger, hipper cities had even better health food options. Wrong-o!
Heartwood Bakery and Cafe offers gluten free, sugar free, dairy free, food and treats. They used to offer food buffet style, which I preffered, but now you have to order the meal you want - it's still pretty great. But the thing I really love is the treats! They have bars, pies, about five kinds of cookies, what my ex and I used to call "buckwheat screamers" - buckwheat-ginger cookies, and they're all friggin' fabulous!!
Now, to a normal sweet eater, someone who consumes XX pounds per year of western cultures favorite sedative - sugar (no offense) these treats are not mind-blowing, some are quite good, some are not so exciting.
But for someone who has sworn it off, whether for health or policy reasons, they are mind-blowing! You can taste more after you give up sugar, you can taste the actual natural sweetness of things, which is a much more diverse and pleasing spectrum of flavours than everything being "sugar-flavoured."
So, I used to wander into Heartwood fairly regularly when I lived here, pick up a day old loaf of sourdough bread, and a treat or two, maybe a buckwheat screamer and an oatcake for the road... but I always assumed, like a said, that bigger and hipper cities had better, or at least similar options.
I've been on a health-food tour for quite a few years now - everywhere I go I immediately scope out the health food store, restaurant, cafe - in town. Some you can find online, others you have to find one (usually the health food store is easiest to initially locate) and ask them where the others are, or just ask your hippie friends.
Brighton, in southern England, has some fantastic health food stores and super fresh organic produce in the summer - lots of options. Geneva has a good health food store too. LA has lots of them, although mostly pretty corporate. Paris - don't even bother, it's hell for the lactose intolerant (I love it for other reasons though). Eureka, Oregon has an awesome co-op right on the 101 as you blow through town, and Santa Cruz has a place called the Staff of Life. It has some nice baked goodies, but is no Heartwood.
The closest I've found is Gorilla Food in Vancouver, on Richards, they have all raw sweets and meals, which are fabulous, but since it's raw it's a different bag. In some ways it's better, in some ways not as good, it doesn't have the range and diversity of Heartwood, which is fair, because raw is more limiting. It is better in the way that - it is raw, which rocks.
Interestingly - in both cases - the cafe is driven by an owner (Laura - Heartwood, Aaron - Gorilla) with vision and perseverance, who stick to their guns and refuse to compromise on ingredients or quality.
Still, over the years of travelling and always seeking out the local healthfood options - I have developed what I call "The Heartwood Standard' - the bar I hold all other places to:
- Are there sweet options that have no dairy, gluten, or sugar?
- I mean - none of those! Many places offer something with no gluten - it almost always has milk, or sugar, or both. Likewise, if it's lactose free - they pound the sugar to it. Why? I don't get it.
- If there are such options, how many? one, two?
- Are they fresh?
- Are they good?
- Are they mind-blowingly good?
- If I come back tomorrow can I get something different?
- Are there sweet and meals?
- Would I take a date there?
- Is it clean?
- Is it fresh?
- How do I feel after I eat?
These are some of the questions that I started to develop to compare health food cafes/restaurants/stores(that offer prepared food) to Heartwood. Like a checklist. Like I said, Gorilla Food does great on the Heartwood Standard, I wouldn't want to have to say whom I prefer - Heartwood 'n I go way back. But it's the only real contender so far.
I know there are tons of places out there I haven't visited, tased, and held to the Heartwood Standard. Any suggestions of places to try in your town, or that you have found in your travels - please let me know! The health food tour of the world goes on...
In that time I went through all kinds of crazy diets - gluten free, starch free, taste-free, sugar (even including fruit) free... Ug!
I later got better, through a 16-day Master Cleanser fast which cleaned my body out and basically pressed the reset button on my health. But I am lactose intolerant, sugar bugs me, so I avoid it if possible, white flour is nutritionless glue (a separate rant) and I even eat gluten free when possible just for variety and to give my body a break. In the name of being healthy so I can do my work and enjoy it, and life (a lot), I'm a bit of a health and health-food nut. No pun intended.
Back then, mid 90's, was when I discovered Heartwood Bakery, on Quinpool Road - it was, and still is, fantastic. Halifax is not a big city, 3-400,000 people. I always assumed bigger, hipper cities had even better health food options. Wrong-o!
Heartwood Bakery and Cafe offers gluten free, sugar free, dairy free, food and treats. They used to offer food buffet style, which I preffered, but now you have to order the meal you want - it's still pretty great. But the thing I really love is the treats! They have bars, pies, about five kinds of cookies, what my ex and I used to call "buckwheat screamers" - buckwheat-ginger cookies, and they're all friggin' fabulous!!
Now, to a normal sweet eater, someone who consumes XX pounds per year of western cultures favorite sedative - sugar (no offense) these treats are not mind-blowing, some are quite good, some are not so exciting.
But for someone who has sworn it off, whether for health or policy reasons, they are mind-blowing! You can taste more after you give up sugar, you can taste the actual natural sweetness of things, which is a much more diverse and pleasing spectrum of flavours than everything being "sugar-flavoured."
So, I used to wander into Heartwood fairly regularly when I lived here, pick up a day old loaf of sourdough bread, and a treat or two, maybe a buckwheat screamer and an oatcake for the road... but I always assumed, like a said, that bigger and hipper cities had better, or at least similar options.
I've been on a health-food tour for quite a few years now - everywhere I go I immediately scope out the health food store, restaurant, cafe - in town. Some you can find online, others you have to find one (usually the health food store is easiest to initially locate) and ask them where the others are, or just ask your hippie friends.
Brighton, in southern England, has some fantastic health food stores and super fresh organic produce in the summer - lots of options. Geneva has a good health food store too. LA has lots of them, although mostly pretty corporate. Paris - don't even bother, it's hell for the lactose intolerant (I love it for other reasons though). Eureka, Oregon has an awesome co-op right on the 101 as you blow through town, and Santa Cruz has a place called the Staff of Life. It has some nice baked goodies, but is no Heartwood.
The closest I've found is Gorilla Food in Vancouver, on Richards, they have all raw sweets and meals, which are fabulous, but since it's raw it's a different bag. In some ways it's better, in some ways not as good, it doesn't have the range and diversity of Heartwood, which is fair, because raw is more limiting. It is better in the way that - it is raw, which rocks.
Interestingly - in both cases - the cafe is driven by an owner (Laura - Heartwood, Aaron - Gorilla) with vision and perseverance, who stick to their guns and refuse to compromise on ingredients or quality.
Still, over the years of travelling and always seeking out the local healthfood options - I have developed what I call "The Heartwood Standard' - the bar I hold all other places to:
- Are there sweet options that have no dairy, gluten, or sugar?
- I mean - none of those! Many places offer something with no gluten - it almost always has milk, or sugar, or both. Likewise, if it's lactose free - they pound the sugar to it. Why? I don't get it.
- If there are such options, how many? one, two?
- Are they fresh?
- Are they good?
- Are they mind-blowingly good?
- If I come back tomorrow can I get something different?
- Are there sweet and meals?
- Would I take a date there?
- Is it clean?
- Is it fresh?
- How do I feel after I eat?
These are some of the questions that I started to develop to compare health food cafes/restaurants/stores(that offer prepared food) to Heartwood. Like a checklist. Like I said, Gorilla Food does great on the Heartwood Standard, I wouldn't want to have to say whom I prefer - Heartwood 'n I go way back. But it's the only real contender so far.
I know there are tons of places out there I haven't visited, tased, and held to the Heartwood Standard. Any suggestions of places to try in your town, or that you have found in your travels - please let me know! The health food tour of the world goes on...
Sunday, January 2, 2011
2011.1.1 - Six months of joy (feathers for tomorrow)
I'm sitting at Freeman's Little New York in Halifax. It's January first, 2011. I've been on the road, homeless and unemployed - for six months now. I feel like Che Guevara took over the helm in my life, and has lead a revolution.
I had a dream last night that I found three eagle feathers, I was walking along the beach (Tofino or Eastern Shore NS), and thought I would like to find some, and there three were in the sand at my feet. My friend Cat called just after noon and woke me up - did I want to go to the polar bear swim at Conrad's beach, as we had discussed last night? Yes, yes I did. Yes to everything, as a policy, has helped bring me one of the best years of my life, no - the best.
But I was shaky, it was a late night, and my dedication to walking two paths has not wavered so far. It is one path. Two horses. Clyf gave me Eat Pray Love today, I'm looking forward to reading it. He said she had a lot of similar thoughts to what I've been discussing here, including that image - of riding two horses, which continues to weave through my thoughts.
Getting to Dartmouth by 1pm was not working out, so it looked like I couldn't go, then she called back and had a ride for me. :) Went. Went swimming. It was cold and beautiful!
It was a warm day. Plus eight. There were thirty or so of us, all of them Catherine's family or friends of her family. She is a lovely young idealist I met in law school, who - like many of us -is trying to find her place in the world. As we all left the beach, of course I had my eyes open - would I find an eagle feather? There it was, a feather - in the washed up seaweed and debris from the sea. Washed up debris from the sea. It was small, didn't look right, I walked by.
Then I went back, picked it up: an eagle feather. I've come to know that cream melding into brown so well from having found and distributed so many over the past six months. I had nothing to say. This one was for me. As I write this it makes me feel like - I am debris from the sea. On an errand. Clay, with a breath of wind under it.
It's five or six inches long, from the inner wing. Carlos Castaneda said that at life's end the great eagle would devour our awareness. Perhaps the feather is signifying the past six months of my life, that I have acted from an awareness of death, at least a little bit.
Last night my cousin said she's been reading my blog, and we chatted about it. I wonder sometimes who reads it, if anyone I know does. I know I have some faithful readers in Russia, which is nice, I'd love to visit there one day!
Six months of swinging an axe at all the bullshit one confronts in life, of saying "NO" to "be afraid!" and YES to life. Hard to believe it's 2011. How long have we been waiting for this era, whether we believe or not, that anything will change - I believe that this is a time when we can make change. Crisis.
Crisis and opportunity. The world is changing, and it is an opportunity.
Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad; when the journey's over
There'll be time enough for sleep.
I'm a different person than I was a year ago. More natural, more comfortable with myself. I went out last night with my brother to the Economy Shoe Shop, we had a round table event - all were welcome, and lots of people came. Old and new friends and family - it was a fabulous time, brilliant, probably the best New Years Eve I've ever had. Art n I had a smoke afterwards on the sidewalk, and walked home. I kicked snowlumps, and jumped over stuff, and walked diagonally thru intersections. He laughed at me. I know Mom and Dad were smiling down, to see the two of us so... whole. So together. Have I ever mentioned how thankful I am for my brother? This seems like a good time.
When I was 11 and he was 13 our parents split up. He'd always picked on me, as older brothers usually do. I came home in the evening for some reason, it was dark. He was in the driveway, laying in the snow in his pcoat. It was snowing. He got up, he'd been crying. He said he was sorry for all that stuff, and he said it was over - that we needed to stick together, because, in a way, (no offence to Mom and Dad, who were great parents) we were on our own now, and he's been true to his word. Through every death, divorce, or kick in the nuts, we've only gotten closer and built a better relatonship. It's with my brother's support that I stray so far from shore.
And somehting Val asked me about yesterday - 'errand'? Why did I use that word? The proper term is 'knight-errant'. I modified it because I simply feel like I'm on an errand, for the universe, or myself (as if there's any difference), and it's a reminder to be humble.
The stars are so big,
the earth so small,
stay as you are
stay as you are
I had a vision a month or so ago - an image that flashed into my mind - it was a painting, a very good one, of black and clay-red wavy lines, vertical, like waves of vibration, and the black lines had symbols in them, squares and triangles. Someone (me) had penciled in, with a rough carpenters pencil, the front curve of a man, like a child's drawing on top of this beautiful, masterful painting. The illusion of separateness. I have spent the last six months erasing it.
"joy is energizing and misery is enervating" - I found this quote in my horoscope today, and this has been the story of my last six months, I've done what makes me happy and I feel alive because of it. Pretty simple recipe. I'm curious to see how it plays out in the next six months, thirty years.
I don't like talking about what I'm going to do in the future, but due to the date, I'm going to make a few wishes;
- to travel a lot this year
- to keep writing and being creative
- to, in my personal relations with others, serve the purpose of waking people up, and where I don't do that - to have them wake me up
- to follow my dreams, over the horizon and far away....
- to serve, to help, and to continue seeing how to do so.
I've seen so many friends and acqaintances go through big changes over the last year, it certainly is a time of change. And those who haven't - are about to - everyone's craving it. Let's go. Giddyup. LIFE - is waiting.
Over the past six months I have travelled across Canada, up and down the west coast of the States, lived out of my car, partied, meditated, fasted, written, danced, laughed, loved, made so many friends - started building the life I want. When people think of building a life they think of buying a house, a car, a promotion, having a baby, getting married. For me it has come to mean: making friends; laughing; following my dreams; learning; living each day as I choose; speaking my truth with clarity and compassion; taking leaps of faith.
The real benefit of the last six months - perspective. A birds-eye-view. This quiet, passionate, peaceful, reflective time: in the land that is Patrick I previously could only see each river on its own, now I see where they meet and flow as one.
Thank you; life, you, my friends, supporters, readers, all the eagles who keep donating feathers to the cause of my keeping my eyes to the sky, but mostly thank you to me - for that moment where I drove away.
I had a dream last night that I found three eagle feathers, I was walking along the beach (Tofino or Eastern Shore NS), and thought I would like to find some, and there three were in the sand at my feet. My friend Cat called just after noon and woke me up - did I want to go to the polar bear swim at Conrad's beach, as we had discussed last night? Yes, yes I did. Yes to everything, as a policy, has helped bring me one of the best years of my life, no - the best.
But I was shaky, it was a late night, and my dedication to walking two paths has not wavered so far. It is one path. Two horses. Clyf gave me Eat Pray Love today, I'm looking forward to reading it. He said she had a lot of similar thoughts to what I've been discussing here, including that image - of riding two horses, which continues to weave through my thoughts.
Getting to Dartmouth by 1pm was not working out, so it looked like I couldn't go, then she called back and had a ride for me. :) Went. Went swimming. It was cold and beautiful!
It was a warm day. Plus eight. There were thirty or so of us, all of them Catherine's family or friends of her family. She is a lovely young idealist I met in law school, who - like many of us -is trying to find her place in the world. As we all left the beach, of course I had my eyes open - would I find an eagle feather? There it was, a feather - in the washed up seaweed and debris from the sea. Washed up debris from the sea. It was small, didn't look right, I walked by.
Then I went back, picked it up: an eagle feather. I've come to know that cream melding into brown so well from having found and distributed so many over the past six months. I had nothing to say. This one was for me. As I write this it makes me feel like - I am debris from the sea. On an errand. Clay, with a breath of wind under it.
It's five or six inches long, from the inner wing. Carlos Castaneda said that at life's end the great eagle would devour our awareness. Perhaps the feather is signifying the past six months of my life, that I have acted from an awareness of death, at least a little bit.
Last night my cousin said she's been reading my blog, and we chatted about it. I wonder sometimes who reads it, if anyone I know does. I know I have some faithful readers in Russia, which is nice, I'd love to visit there one day!
Six months of swinging an axe at all the bullshit one confronts in life, of saying "NO" to "be afraid!" and YES to life. Hard to believe it's 2011. How long have we been waiting for this era, whether we believe or not, that anything will change - I believe that this is a time when we can make change. Crisis.
Crisis and opportunity. The world is changing, and it is an opportunity.
Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad; when the journey's over
There'll be time enough for sleep.
I'm a different person than I was a year ago. More natural, more comfortable with myself. I went out last night with my brother to the Economy Shoe Shop, we had a round table event - all were welcome, and lots of people came. Old and new friends and family - it was a fabulous time, brilliant, probably the best New Years Eve I've ever had. Art n I had a smoke afterwards on the sidewalk, and walked home. I kicked snowlumps, and jumped over stuff, and walked diagonally thru intersections. He laughed at me. I know Mom and Dad were smiling down, to see the two of us so... whole. So together. Have I ever mentioned how thankful I am for my brother? This seems like a good time.
When I was 11 and he was 13 our parents split up. He'd always picked on me, as older brothers usually do. I came home in the evening for some reason, it was dark. He was in the driveway, laying in the snow in his pcoat. It was snowing. He got up, he'd been crying. He said he was sorry for all that stuff, and he said it was over - that we needed to stick together, because, in a way, (no offence to Mom and Dad, who were great parents) we were on our own now, and he's been true to his word. Through every death, divorce, or kick in the nuts, we've only gotten closer and built a better relatonship. It's with my brother's support that I stray so far from shore.
And somehting Val asked me about yesterday - 'errand'? Why did I use that word? The proper term is 'knight-errant'. I modified it because I simply feel like I'm on an errand, for the universe, or myself (as if there's any difference), and it's a reminder to be humble.
The stars are so big,
the earth so small,
stay as you are
stay as you are
I had a vision a month or so ago - an image that flashed into my mind - it was a painting, a very good one, of black and clay-red wavy lines, vertical, like waves of vibration, and the black lines had symbols in them, squares and triangles. Someone (me) had penciled in, with a rough carpenters pencil, the front curve of a man, like a child's drawing on top of this beautiful, masterful painting. The illusion of separateness. I have spent the last six months erasing it.
"joy is energizing and misery is enervating" - I found this quote in my horoscope today, and this has been the story of my last six months, I've done what makes me happy and I feel alive because of it. Pretty simple recipe. I'm curious to see how it plays out in the next six months, thirty years.
I don't like talking about what I'm going to do in the future, but due to the date, I'm going to make a few wishes;
- to travel a lot this year
- to keep writing and being creative
- to, in my personal relations with others, serve the purpose of waking people up, and where I don't do that - to have them wake me up
- to follow my dreams, over the horizon and far away....
- to serve, to help, and to continue seeing how to do so.
I've seen so many friends and acqaintances go through big changes over the last year, it certainly is a time of change. And those who haven't - are about to - everyone's craving it. Let's go. Giddyup. LIFE - is waiting.
Over the past six months I have travelled across Canada, up and down the west coast of the States, lived out of my car, partied, meditated, fasted, written, danced, laughed, loved, made so many friends - started building the life I want. When people think of building a life they think of buying a house, a car, a promotion, having a baby, getting married. For me it has come to mean: making friends; laughing; following my dreams; learning; living each day as I choose; speaking my truth with clarity and compassion; taking leaps of faith.
The real benefit of the last six months - perspective. A birds-eye-view. This quiet, passionate, peaceful, reflective time: in the land that is Patrick I previously could only see each river on its own, now I see where they meet and flow as one.
Thank you; life, you, my friends, supporters, readers, all the eagles who keep donating feathers to the cause of my keeping my eyes to the sky, but mostly thank you to me - for that moment where I drove away.
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