Learning

For many years I have comfortably occupied the position of teacher.  I am a teacher as a mom; I was a teacher at NOEES for 5 years; I have taught many workshops at the Inner World School and I have settled into being a dance teacher. 

It has been awhile since I have experienced the genuine vulnerability of learning from someone else.  Sure I have learned lots through reading and discussion and its one thing to learn a new knit stitch its another to put yourself in a completely foreign environment.

At the IPE, I watched the stock dog trials as I like to do, having a love of Border Collies since my childhood dog, Buck.  Afterward, I went to talk to the handlers as the audience was invited to do and met Lee Lumb.  Lee trains and competes with stock dogs and she teaches people how to work stock with their dogs.  Through a series of e-mails I came to be on her farm with Hugo and Jasmine a few weeks ago.  It was determined that Jasmine was the one worth working with so almost every week since then as found her and I on our way to Lavington. 

My initial understanding was that stock dog training was kind of like obedience training just more complicated.  She would learn some complicated set of instructions and I would learn how to administer them....  Wow, was I wrong.  Basically, Jasmine through the innate senses of her breed already knows exactly what to do.  Its me that has to do all the learning - learning how she responds to the pressure of my body.  Learning how this pressure makes her do different things.  In the 3 lessons we've had, I've learned how to get Jasmine to go out and around the sheep and change directions.  When Lee goes in there, she can get Jasmine to do a whole lot more.

That feeling, the first time I tried to do it and failed spectacularly, was a very vulnerable experience.  Lee is very matter-of-fact and she has a good sense of humour but to realize just how completely clueless I was was something.  It was something compared to how badly I wanted to learn it.  I was reminded just how vulnerable you feel when you are learning something completely new.  And how as an adult, it has been a long time since I was really in that position.  I really, really want to learn this skill.  The idea of having a dog to help me move my sheep appeals to me, especially as my children wander off into the world and my helpers dwindle.  It reminded me of the courage and determination that it takes to learn in a situation like that.  It renews my respect for my students and reminds me of the great trust I hold.

And really, its a very refreshing thing to do.  When was the last time you put yourself in that position?

For my sisters - Faith

Okay, it has been waaaayyy too long since I posted and I have a lot of things I wanted to share with all of you. The only advantage to such a long hiatus is that likely my sisters are the only ones devoted enough to still be checking my blog. I wrote this poem yesterday. It has been a hard 10 days since the temperature dropped way below norms and the snow piled up. They say it hasn't been this cold here since 1985 and I know they haven't had this much snow in November since 1994 when Andrew turned 1 - our first year here. We were totally unprepared. It has been stressful and I have had to face my ugliest, most dramatic fears and try to let go and have faith. I would hesitate to share this poem with anyone - although obviously, I am posting it in a public space and anyone could read it.

It is true that I left the Mormon church 17 years ago and it is a decision I don't regret. And perhaps I left it in an unusual way because I am not bitter about the church. I am not into all the myriad of anti-Mormon literature. I don't need to prove Joseph Smith a fraud. In fact, I hope he's not. It just ceased to matter to me. I am grateful for my LDS upbringing. Jesus, as the Mormons conceptualize Him, continues to be very meaningful to me and the greatest comfort in my life. But it has become a very private thing. His picture hangs in my bedroom, festooned with ribbons that mean something to me. It is the LDS picture of a strong, broad shouldered Jesus with a confident, knowing, loving face. In my heart I consider myself a Christian although I would never openly declare it (although I guess I just have) because of the many connotations and judgmental-ism that have unfortunately been attached to that term. I am a Christian in the sense that I am a follower of Christ and I strive to live up to the ideals He preached. However, I don't believe that He is the only way. I believe there are other ways. But He is my way.

Anyways, this week has been a week of prayer, of contemplation, of being with myself, of fighting the demons of doubt, fear and judgment. And yesterday while I was writing in my journal, this poem emerged and I wanted to share it with my sisters because I thought they might understand and appreciate it.

Sunday, November 28

Come unto Jesus ye heavy laden

Tired and careworn, by sin oppressed

I come

I creep

I lay my burden at His feet

Down my armadillo armour

Heavy as lead

My plated armour guarding against slings and arrows, responsibility, blame,

My own shame

Leak through; pour through

And fester in my heart

Their cruel words a chant in my ears

A reverberating wound

Denying abundance, grace, faith

And love

Armour left at His feet, I uncurl from my foetal position

I open slowly, unfamiliar

Pale, soft, vulnerable

I open at His feet

I tremble, exposed

And clutch for my armour

In a frantic panic

Stop

My breath a sigh

Ahhhhh, Mmmmmm

Bless this armour

Love this armour

I uncurl at His feet

His wounds exposed

My heavy armour light upon His shoulders

For my yoke is easy and my burden is light Matt 11:31

A Note From the Present

Here it is, August 29. The end of summer is inevitably nigh. (yes, Laura, archaic word, is it not?). The sun sets sooner, the nights are cooler and yesterday morning I could see my breath! And there are still things I want to tell you about from the summer but soon, it will be everlastingly too late and unseasonal. But today, I have a note from the present.

I have never lived alone. Its true. I left my family of 12 (pre-twins when it would be come a family of 14) just 11 days after the 10th child was born to live with my dad's cousin's family of 8 while I went to University at BYU. I left BYU to get married. Although that only lasted 3 years, by the time I was 22 and I had a 1 year old. And that was that. The window for living alone for me had passed until the other end of my life. And because I homeschool my children and we run our own business from home, I am alone very infrequently.

Although I am an extrovert and I enjoy being around people and being busy, this is such a constant in my life that being alone is truly golden to me. This weekend, Dean is playing in Revelstoke and Rhiannon had a sleepover birthday party. Although Drew did find his way home to sleep sometime in the night, my evening was spent totally alone.

So what did I do? I cleaned the kitchen. It was Saturday Night and I cleaned the kitchen which had been in a state of disarray since Sarah, Kyle, Adriel and Sloan ate breakfast there... on Thursday morning. The frying pans from the baked apple pancakes were still on the table on hotplates although there was no danger of burning the table.... As I organized everything, the mound beside the sink grew to momentous proportions. I played Fleetwood Mac music that I have downloaded to my ipod and deleted stuff I didn't like (almost everything pre-Lindsay Buckingham), fed all the animals and got them all tucked in for the night. Then I heated up some falafel and made myself a wrap with tziki that Eryn and I made and fresh tomatoes and cucumber from the garden. I took it along with some cherry tomatoes upstairs and watched "The Soloist" which I hadn't seen before. And then I went to bed and read a little of Mitch Album's latest book, "Have a Little Faith" and went to sleep with ear plugs in so I couldn't hear the stupid dogs from next door.

When I am alone like that, I find it so peaceful and I am able to really be right in the moment and be aware of the moment at the same time. Like when I am walking back from the coop, I like the effect of my music spilling out onto the porch and into the evening - my happiness, my quiet joy. I notice the light as the sun sets. And when there is no music playing, I notice the stillness around me. Like right now. I have 2 1/2 hours left of my own time before I go and get Rhiannon...

Happy New Year....heh

Well, There has been great blogging lethargy around here. I've also been very busy. And I've been going through a period where I just want to get on with doing things and not talk about it so much - the whole fall has been like that, really. There have been some big things going on that I haven't shared yet but I am feeling ready to these days - more posts to follow. I would love to be a very regular blogger like Soule Mama and others. I enjoy reading their blogs. At times I set off to blog like that but sooner or later (usually sooner) I run out of things to say. I don't know how they do it, really - to blog so regularly and so interestingly.

But anyways, I have got to say that I am not the least bit sorry to see 2009 go. It was a hard year - the hardest I've had in a long time and I know many other people who feel that way. I think it was when Freya died, that I was really ready for the year to end - enough already. For me it was a lonely year and often sad. But all things have their blessings, too. It was a year of real growth - the kind that only comes from dealing with hard things. It was a very quiet year, too. Lots of time for reflection and journal writing, processing and learning. It was a year to appreciate the love and kindness of true friends and the tender love and understanding of my husband. It was hard but I wouldn't trade it for anything. At least it was real.

There were some real highlights, too. Like the Clarke family reunion here in the smoky Okanagan. And sister visits. Having my house full of sisters was definitely the high point of my year! Spending time with little nephews at the beach and around my farm was wonderful - I hope there is lots more of that in my future!

I have a symbol for my New Year, of course. This year my symbol is a white rabbit. I had a dream awhile before New Year's and in the dream I was feeling despair and discouragement and very sad and then to my surprise, I discovered Cypress in the house (our white rabbit) and I remembered that she had always been there and I was so grateful and happy. To me Cypress symbolized the magic that is always there in our darkest times - we just have to remember it. This year I have certainly had lots of chances to remember my magic and that is what I take with me into the New Year. Here is the painting I made of it. Of course, I am not an artist like my sisters but it captures what I felt.

I Surprise Myself Everytime I Do It

I am sitting here all sweaty and hot. I just did my 30 minute run again. That's 4 times. And I have surprised myself everytime I do it. Everytime, I wonder if I will be able to do it again and during the first 5 minute stretch, I really doubt that I can. But I do. I did.

When I trained for Outward Bound, I did the 30 minute run once and that was it. I am sure I will never be 'addicted' to running. If the weather was better I would be riding instead. I am sure my sister, Katie, could run twice as far as I do in 30 minutes. But damn! I love the feeling of doing it yet again.

Where I really notice the difference in my life is in my walking - I can walk faster and longer and it feels different. I like how it feels to get stronger...

30 Minutes

Well, almost 9 years ago when I broke both of my tibial plateaux 8 months after having a baby, I heard a nurse in the hallway talking about me say, "well, she'll never run again." I was barely mobile for the year after before I had the tibial plateau transplant and then refractured my one tibia/fibula 7 months into my 1 year of non-weightbearing, permanently (so far) altering my flexibility (my foot still can't touch my bum). I was afraid the nurse was right.

It was hard to think of. I had never been a long distance runner but I had once been rather fast. I was on my high school track team as a sprinter for the 100m and a high jumper. In fact, the day before my accident I had been giving Kaetlyn and Drew sprinting tips in the front yard. In 1999 I had done the Outward Bound Women of Courage program. To prepare for the 7 day course, I was supposed to be able to run for 30 minutes and they sent along a running program to gradually get there. I did it. And it was quite something for me. I don't really like running like that but I do like challenging myself and I like the feeling of have being able to do it. I didn't really want to accept never running again. I can still remember the feeling of running races barefoot in the grass in Fort George Park (in highschool, I ran in my socks) - that feeling of flying.

On my 43rd birthday, supported by a good friend, I went to Polson track and ran around the oval in short segments. It was hard to run. My body couldn't remember how to do it. I had to consciously think about each stride. It was hard to trust my right leg. And I could barely breathe - I was so badly out of shape.

This fall I decided that it was time to push myself. There is just nothing like jogging that gives my heart, lungs and legs the same work out. I have biked long distances, up big hills but it is still not the same. I tried at first a running program I found on About.com. But it just didn't work. I dug out my Outward Bound instructions, inspired by my sister, Laura, who is also doing something that challenges her. (you were my inspiration, Laura! Although what you did was probably harder!)

I really wasn't sure I could do it. But I started. The first day I ran 30 seconds and walked 4.5 minutes X 6. Two days later I ran for 1 minute and walked for 4 X 6. Something happened on this run. It clicked. My body remembered how to jog. I stopped thinking about my stride and fell into a rhythm. Nevertheless, I wasn't sure how far I would get. Maybe it would snow and I wouldn't be able to. Maybe I really couldn't do this any more.

On Monday I ran for 4.5 minutes and walked for 30 seconds X 6. I ran for 27 minutes. The next time I was supposed to run for 30 minutes without stopping. That was today. It was below 0 today but warmer than forecasted. I decided to go after lunch about 3pm. I decided it would be okay if I could only run 15 minutes and then stop and walk for a minute and run for another 15 minutes. But I didn't need to. I ran. I ran for 30 minutes without stopping. I can hardly believe it. I DID IT!!

And my knee? It is okay. It doesn't even hurt. I know that my ankle does compensate a bit for it and I suspect it might be because I have my own meniscus. Near the end of my run, I run by my physiotherapist and I want to shout, "Kees! Look at me! I'm doing it!" It spurs me on to finish.

Anyways, yay me!

This One is for YOU

You know who you are. You're the one discouraged with the lack of blogging. I know I am probably not the one you most want to hear from but hey, here it is none the less. I don't know why I haven't felt much like blogging. There has been so much going on that should be inspiring me to write. Like my boy turning 16. What would have been Grandpa's 91st birthday. Growing rabbits, entertaining sheep, the changing seasons and the last of my tomatoes and canning with my daughters.

But there has been a blog post in the back of my mind that I think is jamming up the flow. Every now and then I pull it out and think, "I really need to write that". And then I think, "Naw...." I suppose I really do need to write it.

You know, since I graduated from UVic in the summer of 1991, moved to Winnipeg and started facilitating a women's group for survivors of sexual abuse, I have worked as a counsellor. That's what I call myself. I have worked pretty steady at it, although very part time since then. When I first moved to Vernon, I had an ad in the yellow pages and I saw quite a few people through that. When I went to work at NOEES as an employment facilitator, I took the ad out. I continued to see people - clients who had already been seeing me and those who heard about me through word-of-mouth. And that has been perfect with all that has been going on in my life and our family. I really didn't want to work in that way much more than that.

Just lately, I have really been feeling the urge to expand again. I think Rhiannon is at a stage now where she needs less of my time. I have only 2 kids at home and one of them is not home very much. Our window washing business now exceeds 500 customers and is running pretty smoothly with minimal input from me. I don't know, I have just been feeling ready. More grounded and secure in myself, perhaps, too.

So I set to work on a brochure. It is so 'unCanadian' to sell yourself and it was really hard to do. I ended up writing longhand in my journal and setting a timer for 15 minutes and forcing myself to write in 15 minute blocks. That actually worked really well. I think I have made an awesome brochure. Getting some testimonials from clients really helped me, too. So I have this brochure now. Printed even. On nice (partly recycled) paper.

And I have started to distribute them at the library and coffee shops and the People Place and any other place I can think of. But the thing is, I have come to realize that simply putting out brochures around town is probably not enough to actually bring in clients. I need to say what I do. I need to talk to people. I have such a hard time promoting myself in this way. Part of it is that people often seem to feel self-conscious when you tell them you are a counsellor like you are analyzing them. I don't. I don't think most counsellors do. It is a special thing when someone sits down in my office and begins to tell me their story. It takes a lot of focus and attention to be there for them in that moment. I don't go around doing that to random people. Really. The other part, I think is that somehow we think that people who are therapists or counsellors should have everything together. And generally we are just people. Having insight into someone else's problems or being a good listener is not the same has being perfect. And the other part is that it is just hard to say, yes, this is what I do and I'm actually pretty good at it.

It is a lot easier to say we wash windows and we do a very good job - in fact, we guarantee our work. Why is that? I suppose windows are a lot less personal. So that is my challenge right now. This is who I am. I am a counsellor and I am pretty good at it.

Here is an excerpt from my brochure:

About andrea

I have lived and raised my four children in the Vernon area for the last 15 years. Currently, I live in Coldstream on a small acreage with my husband and my two youngest children, as well as sheep, rabbits, chickens, dogs and cats (the animals by far outnumber the people around here!). I homeschool my children and I am interested in living sustainably in self-sufficient community.

I find it a great honour and privilege to walk with people along their journey. It is a joy to work with people at pivotal points in their lives. I am always in awe of the quiet courage so many people demonstrate in facing themselves and taking charge of their lives and growing.

It always fills me with wonder to be a witness to what can be achieved in an environment of acceptance.

Andrea’s Counselling Philosophy

I have an eclectic approach including training and experience in many therapeutic modalities and a degree in psychology. I have 18 years experience working as a counsellor.

I believe our purpose in life is to grow and find the best in ourselves and be happy. I believe it is love that matters, technique is secondary. The love we have for ourselves matters most of all and is the foundation and ultimate reason for any work we do on ourselves.

I believe the healing journey is an exciting journey and one I, myself have traveled. Offering my heart to others on their own journey is part of my path. I have learned that it is not my wisdom my clients are after but help recognizing their own. Our own inherent wisdom is the only one worth seeking.

Real change happens when we feel safe and loved for who we are. We can make change when we find our way back to the wonder of who we are. Sometimes we discover we don’t need to change the things we thought we did, and other times, changes we were afraid of making happen with ease.

Real growth happens when we make our dreams come true. And to our hearts, nothing is impossible. We can accomplish great goals one step at a time – “how does a plant grow? How does the tide rise? Gradually, gradually.”

To examine these beliefs and grow through them is the deepest form of self-analysis – to see how they have fashioned our feelings, our experiences – our very lives. Usually we absorbed these beliefs without thinking – without deciding. Finding and changing beliefs that no longer suit us can be difficult but very rewarding work. Usually the greatest obstacle is our own inertia. It can be tremendously liberating to unearth our beliefs and replace them with more affirming ones.

Changes

So, I haven't been blogging much - not that I have ever been especially consistent... its not in my nature. Its all been part of what I have been considering - about being true to myself, about what I have to offer and what I am doing right now. Fall is a good time for these kinds of thoughts - season changes are good for clearing things out and the Equinox is good to remind me about balance in my life.

Anyways, lots of thinking and lots of journal writing. I've been feeling particularly productive. I have been thinking a lot about why I blog, too, but that's not what this post is about. I came to one conclusion. I am letting go of selling hats. I mean if anyone wants to buy any of the hats I have already made, I am happy to sell them. And I am sure my pile will gradually dissipate the more visits I get from my family, at the very least. I just decided it wasn't the best use of my time. It came out of a time and feeling of desperation and I don't really want to act from there. I think I have other things to offer that are more important. Important in terms of content and also important in terms of me and my development.

I came to this conclusion this last weekend when I was scheduled to do the outside Farmers' Market in Kelowna - supposed to be very good one for selling hats. The forecast was for -7 that morning. I realized how unprepared I was to do such a thing in cold weather. And then I realized that I really didn't want to do what I had to do to be prepared. It was kind of a half-assed kind of thing and I did not really want to put all my effort and energy into it. There are other things I DO want to put all my energy and effort into and I'm going to focus on that. Stay tuned on further developments I've been working on.

Sometime if I have nothing better to do, I may indeed go to a farmer's market or some similar thing to sell what I have already made but I am not going to work at making new hats unless I want to wear one or make one for someone in my family or as gifts or at the request of dear friends. There are other things I want to knit. And truthfully, scurrily (that is not a word but I just made it up - you get the meaning, right?) knitting hat after hat, is hard on my wrists and I end up with 'tennis' elbow if I am not careful. I'm ready for a new challenge and I have it all picked out. I'm going to attempt to knit Andrew a sweater for Christmas. I already picked out the pattern and I already have the yarn which I bought on sale in the summer...

Entering my 45th year

You know, I must admit that there are times as a mother that I have wondered if my children see me at all as a person other than the one who 'provides' in their lives. But yesterday my kids out did themselves. Especially my daughters. Eryn made this most wonderful dinner - kebabs and veggie kebabs, beet salad, pasta salad, bruchetta and french bread and chips, white and red wine... and TWO cakes - one a divine chocolate from the Rebar Cookbook and the other the Citrus Poppy Seed from the same book to have with my traditional strawberries and whipped cream. Kaetlyn made one cake and did a lot of cleaning. The beet salad was amazing! It was all amazing. And they invited a few of my closest friends and put on a not-to-be-forgotten-ever evening. They even dragged Andrew into service. Erin knows how to get that boy to work. And of course the house was cleaned. It couldn't have been better in any way. It leaves a mother feeling very loved.

I must admit, although I won't go into it, that I have had a difficult first half of the year. A difficult year that started last November - big changes that I wasn't particularly looking for - sad changes. On New Year's Eve I put on a crystal type necklace that Drew had given me a couple of years earlier for Mother's Day. I think it was a green hematite but I am not sure. I just wanted to wear green - I felt like I needed its healing energy. And I didn't take it off. And then my grandpa died in January and I kept it on. Some really hard things in my life took shape and I kept on wearing it. In fact, I wore it straight through until July 1 without ever taking it off. It was a really hard first half of the year.

And then it was time to take it off. This is one of the cool things about having a birthday at almost the mid-point of the year - a great time to review my year and do little symbolic things and think about what I have in my life and where I would like to go. Hey this year, I even got a full moon and the perfect party from my wonderful children!

It is time to let go of the first half of the year. And I feel big shifts in my life - not outside so much as inside.

This is, perhaps, a vague post about small things. But sometimes small things are big things. Last night, under the full moon, I went to bed wrapped up in the love of my family and friends and felt very blessed and certain of the direction of my life.

Another Dream

Last night I had another dream. This one had more angst in it. In this dream my grandmother (who has already died) had just passed away. I was very sad about this and I missed her tremendously. I was going with my family to the funeral (which I didn't do in real life). The funeral was at a huge mormon church - kind of an amalgamation of many such churches so there were several chapels and several gyms. I got there with my sister, Laura (interestingly named for this grandmother). There were already hundreds of people there and I was wandering around looking for a good seat. Because there were already so many people there, I didn't even bother going into the main room as I assumed all the good seats would be taken. Laura found a place that she wanted to be so I left my family with her but kept looking myself for a better place. I started to get annoyed. I thought that they should have reserved seats near the front for the family. I went into the main room, feeling annoyed and huffy and angry that there hadn't been seats reserved only to find that there were a whole lot of empty reserved seats for the family. I ran back to get Dean and Laura and my kids and tell them the good news.

Perhaps a silly little dream full of angst and loss, searching and misunderstanding. But to me (who, I admit sees symbolism in everything) I see it as a little parable for myself (who else?). Often what I am striving towards and struggling after is easily accessible and better than I imagined. I just have to look in the right place.

I love this time of year. It is so epic. Profound dreams and big plans. It all feels magical to me.

Australia here I come!

Well, not really (I wish!). I am talking in the symbolic sense. I had a great dream last night. I dream that I was moving to Australia. I was filled with excitement and joy. Most of my things were packed already. I was ready to go. I was especially excited because I was taking all the things for the Inner World School and I was going to start fresh there - opening a school and offering classes. I was bursting with enthusiasm and plans. I was thinking of people that I know who live in Australia who would be glad to see me, too.

I woke up filled with the same enthusiasm and joy even though I'm not going to Australia just now. In my dream Australia symbolized a new start, a release of old patterns and disappointments - it was a fresh, warm start. Australia was the land of opportunity for many a long time ago. (I've been watching a lot of Dickens dramatizations lately while I knit.)

What was it triggered by? (besides Dickens) The massive re-organizing and cleaning I have been doing of 'my studio'? I have unpacked boxes that have been packed for 5 years. I have sorted through papers that have been unsorted for far too long. I have been releasing old patterns and disappointments. I have been dreaming up new plans. Or maybe it is because last night before going to bed I scrubbed and scrubbed my kitchen floor. Housework is always symbolic to me. Last night I washed away the dirt of the past year. And went to bed and had a great dream! I am still excited. Australia here I come!

Happy New Year 2009

My week between Christmas and New Years has been full of rituals to release 2008 and welcome 2009 as I contemplate what this year has been to me, what I have learned. Then last night I danced in 2009 to my husband's music. His creativity and his confidence in it is my inspiration. I would like to be more like him and I am so grateful for him in my life.

Last year I said that my word for 2008 was 'Effort'. But as I contemplate 2008, it is not the word that comes to mind although it was something I pondered and strove towards. The word for last year should have been 'Connection'. It was a year of epic connections and reconnections - a year of completion, of coming full circle.

My family moved alot while I was growing up - from city to city and within cities. There was a lot of dramatic changes - a lot of disconnect as I left old friends, old schools, old parks and neighbourhoods and found new ones. Until I was 9 and we moved to Cranbrook, the longest we generally lived in one place was a year. Some were a bit longer and many were shorter.

In in my life as an adult I have had several dramatic changes and big moves and sometimes it has meant losing touch with people.

This year was a year of reconnections. When my childhood friend from Cranbrook found me through facebook it was an epic reconnection for me. When I returned to Prince George, Smithers and Terrace and the Fraser, Bulkley and Skeena rivers with my children, it was a pilgrammage. A renewed relationship with my mother's only sister who was such a big part of my childhood has been deeply rewarding. And meeting my two favourite aunts from my dad's side of the family at Thanksgiving and reconnecting with my cousin who had been my best friend since birth it was a journey back to myself. And then reconnecting with my Morrow cousins through the death of my cousin David and talking to my 'Uncle' Mel, I was again returned to myself.

There was something cosmic going on - a deep healing, a retrieval of lost pieces, a remembering of myself. Even reflected here on this land I live on as I once again have sheep and chickens that actually lay eggs. My life feels restored.

And as my first born returned from Calgary to live at home for a short time and all my children are once again under my roof, my family was restored and reconnected.

Shortly before Christmas I went to visit my dear friend Bozenka and exchange Christmas gifts along with another gentle, dear friend, Gabriel. Gabriel is an expert in the Enneagram and has studied it for more than 20 years. My knowledge of it is pretty superficial at best. She told me that I was a 6 and went on to tell me the characteristics of a 6 (you can find a description here which describe me eerily well). I could identify with most of what she said - I have always been a non-conformist and I definitely have dramatic issues with authoritarian institutions! But she told me that I lacked confidence. Now most who know me, would never, in my whole life, describe me as lacking confidence. But in her gentle way, she showed me how I lack confidence in my own creativity. I was struck to my core. It is so true and instantly showed me the answer to the conundrum I have often had when it comes to my deepest, truest creativity. This was the final connection of 2008.

And last night as I danced in 2009, I was lost in the music, in my husband's creativity as I danced with abandon. And all of these thoughts swirled around me and there I was dancing with joy as I have danced my whole life and it was all connected in a sparkling trail, weaving and swirling around me.

My Studio

I've written about this room before. Originally this room would have been the front entrance to the house. The room that is now the kitchen was added on after the house was built 105 years ago. There's a stained glass window above the door so I imagine it was a sitting room or something like that.... a parlour? And what is now the living room must have been the kitchen. Or maybe what is now the main entry way was originally a lean-to kitchen? Who knows.

Anyways this great room that has the biggest windows in the house on all 3 sides - facing West, North and East has been grossly under utilized since we moved in 2 and a half years ago. First it was the place we shoved all the boxes we didn't know what to do with. And then everything we didn't know what to do with got shoved in there. The only one who spent much time in there was Rhiannon because the craft stuff was in there and it got to be a mess on top of a mess on top of a mess...

Then we started calling it the 'homeschooling room' as most of our books and resources along with all the craft stuff was in there. My very kind and generous friends came over last January and helped me rearrange the furniture in the living room and this room until we had it looking really great. I just had some last sorting and organizing to do...

In the meantime, Rhiannon moved back in for the craft supplies and eventually you couldn't walk through it any more. Piles of abandonned books on the floor, a layer of drawings and other crafts, tables piled with stuff...

And then some new clients called for counselling. I had been using the Inner Light Yoga space to do my counselling but it was less than ideal and if a client didn't show up, I had to pay for the space anyways not to mention the inconvenience of leaving home... So I decided that this room was going to become.... 'my studio'! It took me an entire week end to clean and organize it from getting the cobwebs down, washing the walls and windows and putting the winter storms up to re-organizing the books and making everything look tidy and inviting.

Now I'm in-love with this room. This is my favourite view - the view through the french doors from the living room. That is my pile of hats and latest wool purchases beside the chair. It is so calm and peaceful in there, I love to just sit there. Or write in my journal beside the window looking out on the apple orchard. Or work on the latest Inner World School project at my table.









Here is the view of the other end of the room that leads into the kitchen on the right. Another great place to sit and read a book as Rhiannon often does looking out over our backyard, under the weeping willow tree to the chicken coop. I'm loving it! When I do counselling, I pull out that floral chair and my rocking chair to the centre of the room and put a pot of tea and mugs on a maple chair that doubles as my tea table.

Myself

When I was young, my family moved a lot. And I mean a lot. They moved between cities and around the city. I went to 3 different schools in grade one. After that, I generally spent about a year at a school before we moved. When I was 9, we moved to Cranbrook from Prince George and we lived there for 3 years, even in the same house (425 - 21st Ave South). Around the block was a girl my age. I met her right away and we became fast friends. I moved away when I was 12 and I have actually never been back to Cranbrook since.

A couple of days ago on facebook, someone contacted me asking me if I was the Andrea who lived in Cranbrook so long ago. It was her. Allison.

Connecting with her has been like stripping layers of dull paint off of myself to the original vibrant hues. We had an intense friendship. We were so similar in our interests. Even at the age of 10 and 11, we used to play with little plastic animals and dinosaurs, creating elaborate kingdoms. We had invisible pet lions - hers was Elsa and mine was Aslan. We created cities and invented all the families that lived in the cities - drawing them and naming them and writing about them. We spent hours looking through her telescope and my dad's hunting binoculars at the moon and stars. We rode bikes together and gave them names and pretended they were horses (mine was Mary). We laid out in the adjoining fields, setting up traps around gopher holes to try to catch gophers. (we never even saw a gopher but that didn't stop us from trying to catch them - there were gopher holes, after all, so there had to be gophers somewhere!). We walked on St Mary's creek in the winter until each of us fell through the ice. We watched Planet of the Apes and the Six Million Dollar Man together (at her house, we didn't have a TV). We had plans to live together when we left home with many dogs, cats and fish while we went to University.

I found myself in my friendship with her. I had a friend who reflected me to myself for the first time - really reflected me - my whole self. And that is who I have been ever since - that self I discovered with her. And she has always been with me. I live here with my dog and 3 cats (and a husband who is allergic to cats, how did I pull that off?) and 8 chickens. When I look at the moon and stars with my children, I remember her. She was so significant in my life, it is such a treat to find her!

Rhythms

It has been a wonderful, magical introspective week for me. I have been processing the messages of my dreams, considering my life and development. I have written pages and pages in my journal. It is interesting to me - this rhythm of life. Sometimes I can't live without a good novel on the go and lots of time out of the house connecting with friends. And other times, I can barely be moved to read anything the least bit fanciful and home is where I want to be. Other than a gloriously piggish session ordering seeds and eating chocolate with my dear friend on Friday afternoon, I have been home except for taking my kids to lessons.

In fact, this Saturday I was pretty much like Sampson here with only his paw sticking out of his 'house'. I actually turned the ringer off on all of my phones. I worked on a painting, processed my patterns, wrote in my journal, cleaned my house, read to Rhiannon and went to bed by 9pm. When I was ready for an intrusion, I checked my messages and my e-mail. Other than that, it was very quiet except for the Brandenburg Concertos playing in the background. It was exactly what I needed.

This whole month, I have felt a great drawing in - an assessing of my life. Accompanying it has been my traditional symbolic housecleaning - getting into the corners and dark places that haven't see the light or a broom or rag in a long time. I have probably written more in my journal in the last month than I did in the previous 6 months. It has felt wonderful. And hard sometimes. Hard to see the parts of myself that haven't seen the light of my own consciousness in awhile but good to see them, too.

I had a wonderful symbol as a gift from my knitting buddies who were over on an afternoon and rearranged my furniture and for the first time my 'homeschooling/craft' room is opened up. And I can't believe how great they got my house to look with furniture I already had. It has totally changed the way I feel about my living room and the 'homeschooling/craft' room. Previously I spent all my time in the kitchen which was my favourite room in this house. Suddenly the whole main floor has opened up. The whole family has spent a lot more time in all of them. For the first few days, I just kept watching into the living room just to look at it - amazed that it was part of my house! I even like the way it looks when it is messy!

So, sorry I haven't been posting much. My energies have been turned inwards instead of outwards but I am starting to emerge. February is around the corner and that means the end of winter in the Okanagan and time to plant seeds for later transplanting.

What it all means (to me) Part 6 of 6

So, what it all means. Are you getting sick of my navel-gazing-dreams? At least Amy is enjoying my inner sojourn. That is enough to keep me writing as I fear I am boring everyone else...
Overall for me, there is a sense of events coming - things just around the corner - something just out of my grasp that I am working towards. And not so much the sense of things inevitably coming towards me but of me working towards these events - the fulfilment of my dreams and my heart's wishes. I had another dream the night before last - this time of eggs - eggs that had not had ideal incubation and I thought wouldn't hatch yet they hatched perfectly - even the way they cracked out of their shells was perfect - the shells were cracked perfectly in half.
These dreams reveal to me my own power that I am currently unaware of - that my fears that my inadequacies have sabotaged my dreams are unfounded. Yet it reveals to me the thoughts and beliefs that are currently limiting me.

And how does it all relate to Bozenka's story? Well, recently I have "bumped into an old cedar" and been "stung on the head" and I realize this is a loving reminder of my purpose in life. That all things happen for my good - for my edification.

And what is my purpose in life? I believe that my purpose in life is to be Andrea and that all the things that happen to me and the things I strive towards are about actualizing myself. I believe that is the purpose of everyone's life. And for some, religion might help them do that. For others being an artist, or an engineer, or a mother or a father or a window washer or...? might help them. Usually there are different things at different times in our lives that lead us to ourselves. I know that for Dean and I, that our window washing business is a means to keep us afloat right now and we are grateful for it but it is not the end. Dean is actively working towards what is fulfilling and meaningful to him with his music. Of course for me, I have many fulfilling things in my life - like being a mother, my friendships with women who inspire me. And I know there is more. And these recent 'bumps and stings' have been to refocus me on these other pursuits in the unfolding of myself to myself.

I have the sense that I am on the threshold. I grew up with a lot of struggle and struggle has been a big part of my life. For a long time I think I mistook struggle for effort - that in order to accomplish things, I had to suffer and struggle. I feel like I am finally moving past this idea - hence my word for 2008 is EFFORT as I contemplate this year the difference between effort and struggle. This year I want to put effort toward what is really important to me instead of struggling toward my goals. And in my dreams, there is a sense of accomplishing it - of having accomplishing with ease. And also reassuringly in my dreams is the reassurance that my dreams are still potent. Sometimes I fear that I have permanently sabotaged myself but I see that despite my own freaking out and fears that the effort I have put in and am currently putting in will indeed come to fruition. Kind of like only giving myself credit for my destructive power and not credit for my power to create. I am still processing what these dreams mean to me but I am encouraged, uplifted and inspired by them and refocused. I am reminded to act like the Queen I Am. I am reminded of my gifts and to challenge my beliefs that limit me. I am reassured that despite my freaking out, 'it' is coming. And my heart is encouraged that one day it will all be easy.

A New Day

I woke up feeling very discouraged this morning. Last night, I got into a fight with my sister who is mentally ill. It was an especially bad fight or a big one but it felt terrible. It is the first time I can ever remember fighting with her and certainly the first time I ever lost my temper with her. I instantly regretted it (upon hanging up) and sent her an e-mail acknowledging where she was right but being firm with my own boundaries and striving to be more loving.

Yet I still felt bad. My 2 half egos were working on me - one trying to shrink me with my shame and self-judgement and the other trying to blow me up with grandiose thoughts of superior spirituality (like there could possibly be such a thing!) I wrote in my journal and lit a candle for myself and my sister. And then I went for my scheduled bike ride. As I pedalled around Middleton Mountain, up and down the hills (feels like mostly up), it occurred to me as I sweat and pushed myself up yet another hill. It doesn't matter if I get off my bike and walk up the hill as long as I am headed in the same direction.

So I was slowed down a bit by the sad altercation with my sister but I am still on track and headed in the right direction.

So there is my thought for the day!

Uncharted Territory

The last couple of days we have been celebrating Rhiannon's 7th birthday. This milestone of hers also marks the edge of uncharted territory for me. When Andrew turned 7, Rhiannon was 2 months old. When my mom's youngest turned 7, I was already a mother to 2 and expecting my third.

Since the first moment I held Rhiannon in my arms, I knew she was the last. I knew my family was complete and there would be no more moments like this. So Rhiannon's childhood as oftentimes had a bittersweet quality for me. Mostly it has whizzed by.

But last night as we celebrated with family and close friends, I felt the feeling of stepping into unknown territory. As a child, young woman, and young adult, my biggest plans were to be a mother. I had dreams to be a writer and a teacher, too but my young diaries are full of plans for motherhood - how I would raise my children, potential names, how I would be different from my own parents.... And I love being a mother. And truly I know that motherhood is always demanding. Erin still needs me at almost 21. But it is different. Early childhood is engrossing - demanding in a way that takes total attention. And now that is over for me. Not that Rhiannon is all grown up or anything but her demands on me take up a lot less of my time.

Last night, Drew's K'Nex went out the door with an eager new owner. I had a lump in my throat. Drew's growing up seems much more abrupt. Wasn't he building things out of K'Nex just last year? When did it stop? When did it get relegated to the top dusty corner of his closet? Where is my little boy? And where did this young man come from?

Ramblings from a mother whose children are growing up... I suppose there is foreshadowing the moment they are laid on my stomach and the chord is cut. And I know that from that moment on they are growing away from me - that this is the way of the world, the way it is meant to be but it pains my heart just a little because my love for them is so huge, bigger than I ever knew and in a way that no one can describe to you before or prepare you for. And these last couple of days have just reminded me sharply of it. And I find myself on the edge of uncharted territory with no clear vision of how I evolve from here and excited and scared to find out.

New Denver

Hey, not a single word from my sisters about the family reunion? Not a single picture? I keep checking in hopes of reading about what it was like, what was fun and silly... But here is what we did instead. We went camping in New Denver for the Valhalla Suzuki Institute for Rhiannon's violin. We went the week end before it started and camped as a family.

Getting there was rather an adventure. We left Thursday after Dean got home from work. You know how it goes when you go camping.... We could have left at 4pm when he and Kaetlyn got home but we didn't leave until 7pm. And then we were starving and stopped to get something to eat in Lumby (15 minutes away from home) but we were happy and jolly to finally be on the road.

I love that road to New Denver - we wind away from our busy hectic lives into the green mountains. I feel the pressure coming off my shoulders - our stuff and all my favourite people and animals jam packed into our van - a little self-sufficient ark. The scenery is breathtaking and prospect of 10 days of camping before me is enough to make my heart sing.

It started getting dark and with our one dim headlight and all the deer and cattle (!) on the road, we crawled along between 60 - 80km's an hour (I know, very un-Clarke-like of me). It got later and later. At the Needles ferry, where we could see one of the forest fires burning high on the mountain, we had to wait for more than 45 minutes as the ferry was getting gassed up by a tanker truck. We finally pulled into the municipal campground in New Denver after 1am in the pitch black, to discover the campground was stuffed to overflowing. We eventually pitched our tents down by the water where there were picnic tables. It turned out that it was okay for us to do that for one night and the next day we got moved into another campsite - site 21. (Rhiannon's picture of our campsite...) It was a very nice site - close to the bathrooms and to water.

We just chilled on Friday, recovered from our mad dash. Saturday we went up to explore Sandon, an abandonned silver mine town up in the mountains above New Denver. Then Sunday, Dean and Drew left in the afternoon for home and Kaetlyn, Rhiannon and I stayed for the week.

As always, I wake up long before my family does. This afforded me time to go down to the beach and write in my journal and read Bozenka's lessons and ponder. This is the view I enjoyed in the early morning light - just me and Jodi. I thought a lot about what it is I love about camping and New Denver and about how to create more simplicity in my life. I wrote a lot about simplicity. Of course, I could make my life complicated no matter where I lived. Although it seems to me that in a place like New Denver, your life could be simpler just because there are less choices and you have be more organized. There is no pharmacy, stores close at certain times and for certain days and some things are just not available there. If I grocery shopped once a month instead of once a day, life would be simpler. Anyways, I pondered things like this in the quiet peaceful hours of the morning, waiting for my family to wake up.

There was a forest fire quite nearby. Highway 6 was closed after Silverton. The first day we were there it was quite smoky but then the winds changed and it was clear most of the rest of the time. You can see the smoke from the fire here. At night it was quite a sight to see.

Then Monday morning the violin camp started. Here Rhiannon is in some of her classes that week.



It was rather an intense week for her. She had 4 classes a day. Last year, two of those classes were without violins and involved games and rhythm and lots of fun. This year she had her usual group class and master class (one-on-one lesson) and then she had a class called 'play in' with a teacher
from Montreal originally from the former Yugoslavia. I wasn't sure about him at first. He was very stern and a little insulting and for the first two classes, I sat on the edge of my seat, wondering if I was going to have to grab Rhiannon and run out of the class. But he turned out to be an incredible teacher and I think Rhiannon learned more in that class than any other. But it was really intense.

Then after an intense morning of those 3 classes, in the afternoon we had a class ostensibly called 'exploring musical styles' but was really learning to play fiddle music. We went the first couple of times but it was just too much for Rhiannon to be trying to play a whole different kind of music. I thought it would have been better to listen to it, talk about it and play games with it but the teacher tried to get them to play it. So we stopped going to that class and instead spent the time practising. After the first day and Rhiannon realized she had no 'fun' classes, she cried. Even to the end, she declared she was never coming again because there were not 'fun' classes. However, since being home, she is talking about next year already. (although we won't be going next year - we'll be going up north to PG, Terrace and the Queen Charlottes but we'll be there the year after). Rhiannon learned a lot about violin and it was great to have the different perspectives and the group experience of playing. She has come home with renewed vigor in her practising and is already working on the next two songs and is eager to advance in the book.

But the week was not all about the institute. There were several other families from Vernon camping at the campground. We managed to save a campsite right beside us for our good friends and other violin friends camped across from us and there were other families scattered through the campground. The kids congregated at the play ground where several rousing games of 'grounders' were played. Here are all the kids on the last day.

And Jodi. I think camping is like dog heaven for her. She gets to go almost everywhere with us, she is walked constantly, petted often, fed great scraps and all the kids adore her. And everyone notices her and talks to her. She has turned out to be such a great camping dog, I wish we had tried taking her when she was much younger.

Then Saturday morning, our friends packed up and left and Dean arrived to take us home. The weather was sunny so we decided to stay one last night. Dean loves camping. And it was nice to just chill after that intense week. And then we were home on Sunday afternoon but and what I found here is a blog for another day....

For more pictures, check out my facebook account albums

Paradigm Shift

This is not apple juice and this canning jar is not sitting in my kitchen.... Its pee and its on the shelf behind the toilet in my bathroom. And no, no one is sick - this pee is not heading for the lab. Its my pee and when my jar is a bit more full, I am going to dump it on my compost. Soon, I hope to have my whole family peeing in jars and dumping them on the compost.

Did you know that most compost fail because of a lack of nitrogen? Instead of composting aerobically, they compost anaerobically which takes much longer and is much stinkier and encourages dogs and bears and mice to move into your compost. Did you know our pee is full of nitrogen? Did you know you could even mix pee 1 part to 5 parts water and pour directly on your plants as fertilizer (if they need nitrogen)?

I discovered this book. I have it on order from the library but in the meantime, the entire book is available online at that link and I have read most of it online. Reading this book has been huge for me. It has been a paradigm shift. In this book, the author, Joseph Jenkins, brings together his personal experience and practical advice with years and years of scientific studies. Things 'they' have known since the 1960's in North America. It has been a life changing book for me. Eventually, when I have my compost set up properly, I will be composting all my human manure.

Suddenly the ridiculousness of how we live and dispose of our 'waste' seems so blatantly obvious to me that I can't understand how I didn't notice before. Animals in nature, eat nature, digest nature, eliminate in nature and then nature uses the nutrients in the elimination to grow more food for the animals. An unbroken cycle - a symbiotic relationship. Yet we humans, eat nature, digest it and then flush the nutrients that the earth needs with our drinking water, instantly contaminating it and eventually, we flush this toxic water into our lakes and oceans killing what grows there (did you know that as of 2005, Victoria dumps its raw sewage straight into the ocean?) Yet we see this as sanitary and there are many who will find my little jar unsanitary.

We are a fecal-phobic culture. We have come to fear our own manure. In North America agricultural fields are used up and no longer productive in less than 100 years. In Asia where they have been using humanure for millennia, they have been growing on the same fields for thousands of years.... Unfortunately, they are racing to copy our dirty western ways and all this is changing now.

Reading the Humanure Handbook I have come to see what a difference composting can make to our planet. It is amazing what composting can do. When you have enough nitrogen in your compost, you get thermophilic composting. The little bacteria, with the proper food, raise the temperature of the compost and eat and destroy all the pathogens. This process can be as quick as 72 hours. And you can compost almost everything. You can compost animal bones, meat, citrus peels, eggs, animal products - everything. You have got to check out the studies he quotes in his book. They have even composted gasoline contaminated dirt and at the end of 90 days, the gasoline was all gone and there was just good compost. It is difficult to compost chlorine but even with PCB's (which have chlorine in them) after 90 days, there was a 40% reduction in them.

And you don't need a skookum, expensive, plastic composting toilet to get started. You can do it with a toilet seat over a bucket, which is what I am going to do. You should have sides on your compost to keep in the heat. I don't have those right now so I will wait to add poo to my compost until I do. I am going to use straw bales for the sides. So for an investment of $30 and whatever a toilet seat costs, I am going to be composting humanure instead of contaminating the beautiful lakes around here.

This is not the same as an out house. Out houses are not a good idea. They contaminate ground water. They don't compost. To compost you add all that vegetative matter - kitchen scraps and weeds, sawdust, cotton and wool, etc. Those that do compost humanure swear that it does not stink. If you cover pee and poo in the bucket immediately with ample amounts of weeks or sawdust, it keeps it from stinking, apparently (I'll keep you posted and let you know exactly how true that is).

To me, this knowledge has been earth shattering. I am simply astounded and amazed. And I can see what huge implications that this knowledge has for the entire planet. Why, it could solve most of our current pollution problems! It could make toxic earth whole again. It fills me with such joy and hope, it feels like a religious experience! I certainly have not done this book justice with my meagre descriptions(which is not new knowledge but a collation of what is already known). This book is worth reading. There is way more to it than what I am able to write about here and my feeble attempts don't do it justice. Read it!

One of the things I like best about this idea is that you don't have to go and buy anything to start doing it. It is so simple. And he also has ideas and suggestions for how we could implement these ideas in cities with dense population where people can't compost their own.

So maybe you think I am crazy and this is way out there. And unsanitary. And gross. Now the next time you flush your humanure down the toilet and waste it, I want you to think about the fact that you have just eliminated into perfectly good drinking water which is now contaminated. Talk about gross....