In Reflection

Well, I was about to go to bed. I have spent the evening on the phone and reading my favourite blogs - vegging after a day at the farmer's market. But then as I secured the door, I noticed that I had neglected to put my chickens to bed. And of course, once I set my foot out the door, the baa-ing began in the sheep pen and I had to stop by to give a chin scratch or two. Valley bottom cloud is briefly banished and the moon is bright tonight - on its way to being full. The bare black locust, maple and linden trees are casting their moonshadows on the snow. And the beauty of it all revived me and I thought I might was well not put this post off any longer.

I have been processing my grandfather's death. Full of thoughts of him and at times deeply berieved. I went to his memorial service in Nanaimo (for photos see here). In the end, Erin, Kaetlyn, Drew and Rhiannon all wanted to come so we packed up the van and headed South. It was a very fast trip. We left Thursday after skiing. Thank God for Erin because I was hard hit by the flu and basically flopped into the back seat and dozed in and out all the way there as she drove. There were some dicey moments by 'The Summit' (formerly known as the toll booths) where the roads were greasy with slushy snow at which point I felt compelled to sit up and tell her how to drive (which she tolerated fairly well - better than I would have). We arrived at my brother Doug's at 10:30pm. (Oh, yah, Laura, that is what else I was going to say... quit calling my little brother dough!) Upon opening the door,small, pale blonde children hurtled down the stairs and threw themselves at me.... I love being an aunt!

The next morning we raced to the ferry in classic Clarke style following Doug's van and barely made it on. On the ferry, we first found my cousin Eugene and two of his 7 children. Although he was like a big brother to me growing up (both protective and annoying), it had been a very long time since I had seen him. And then we spotted my grandpa's younger brother, also on the ferry and before long, my sister Laura turned up.

I thought my grandpa's service was wonderful. It was at the Unitarian church in Nanaimo. All but two of his grandchildren and many of his great-grandchildren were there. I managed to get up to speak during the 'open mic' segment. I have never really had a problem with public speaking but to get up and speak about my grandpa was more emotional than I had anticipated. It didn't quite come out as poetic as I prepared in my journal but I managed to get out my main point - which was to acknowledge his unconditional love and acceptance. Erin sang "Imagine" with my brother. Hearing the emotion in my brother's voice brought tears to my eyes.

I am very glad I went It has been interesting processing all of that since I've been home. I know I have been lucky to have had my grandpa for 43 years. And I remember how he always encouraged my creativity. And his own discipline is an example to me and his courage in putting his own creativity out there. I have brought some momentos of him into my 'studio' to encourage me.

My grandma Clarke (my paternal grandmother) died 5 years ago. She lived with us for most of my teen age years in Terrace and before that we lived in the same town and she gave me my first job. She helped pay for me to go to University. But when she died, she hadn't been speaking to me for 15 years. Yet when she died, I felt a huge release. I knew that she now understood everything between us perfectly. And I often feel her around me. She is there when I am knitting and crocheting (which she taught me to do and would fix my mistakes and decipher patterns for me). And she is with me in my crafting and bread making and food preserving. She loved all those things, too. I feel like her spirit lingers around her family still and when I need her, she is there. Yet my grandpa (my maternal grandfather) who always maintained contact with me, I don't feel near me. I think he has moved on to whatever is next for his soul. I know he worked very hard in this life to resolve things. I don't feel like there are unsaid words between us. He knew how I felt about him and I know how he feels about me. Listening to the tapes of his stories, particularly the tape "The Wind Is From the South" I am reminded of how well he understood the human psyche in general and his own in particular. He was a man well ahead of his time or perhaps a person who knows themselves so well and accepts and loves themselves is unusual at anytime. I feel certain that his crossing of the veil was a joyful one; a welcome one and his soul has moved on to the next part of his journey. And I feel that odd sensation as I am left with only one grandparent living and my parents' mortality draws closer as well as my own. When my grandmothers were my age they were grandmothers..... they are hard to put into words, these big, epic thoughts and impressions. I am sure that one of the reasons I have been so sick with the flu this week is so I could lay around and contemplate all these things.

As I let my grandpa go and say 'good bye' in my own way - and in many ways - I remember the part of me that is him. He is my inspiration as I strive to find the courage of my creativity. It helps me cut through all my internal 'bs' and get to work. He reminds me that I have a work - a something that only I can contribute. And I grieve that I can't sit down to write a letter and tell him my thoughts on creativity and myself and see what he will say in response. It is all wrapped up...ribbons of thought and emotion that he, himself, would love unravelling.

After Shocks

I have always found it hard to follow up on big intense posts like that. Sometimes I just don't write anything or sometimes I write something silly to break the tension. Either way, I usually feel a bit foolish - like somehow I should keep up that intensity (who would want to?) or that I shouldn't be that intense in the first place.

But here are my thoughts another day later. After talking to that guy, I am left with the bizarre impression that although at his age (retired) he operated from fear and was very aggressive, he expected my 14 year old son to a) not be afraid and calmly explain himself and b) have more presence of mind than he did. And of course, the next day, in the daylight, faced with the mother, he is minimizing his behaviour and insisting that he has the right to assault anyone who is on his property (so be warned - although I wished I had pointed out the fact, that I was right then on his property). And I am still a bit outraged about that. Andrew read my blog and we talked about it more last night. His comments are that he still thinks the guy is a jerk. Fair enough. He said it would have been much more satisfying for me to freak at the guy (and, yes, I know his name but I won't put it here as he is well known in our community). So we talked about that and I told him some of the things I thought of saying and we laughed a little and he said it would still have been more satisfying for me to have really said them to the guy.

And my other much larger thoughts reflect on how this little altercation is just a microcosm of the bigger world picture. Fear and aggression, fear and aggression. Tell me this isn't what is happening in the middle East? Tell me this isn't what happens in parliamentary debates? Tell me this isn't how politics basically works on every level. And we are incapable of changing those structures or how the work when this is still how we operate on an individual level. And this is how it is all related to me - the personal is political. And sure that is true when it comes to the personal choices we make - vote with our wallet and all that. And it is also true in how we feel about ourselves, how we raise our children, how we love ourselves and each other, the Earth. In this way the personal is political, too. Just as each cell of our bodies has the complete genetic information of our entire body, so do each of us for the world. We are at once a small pare of the earth and the entire world. Like the Prince of legend that when he opened his mouth, you could see the whole world.

Profiling

Warning: Mother Bear Alert

At birth when I held my baby daughters in my arms, I looked at them in amazement and thought of all the women who had fought for their rights. I knew that they could really be anything they wanted to. The world was open to them. When I held my baby son in my arms and looked at him in amazement, I didn't feel the same sense of freedom. There are still so many things it is not okay for men to be. Some radical feminist friends and colleagues have got rather bristled when I have commented on this. But to have a rigid, patriarchal society isn't good for men, either, even if they do seem to have the power. But I digress and this is not really a philosophical post. I encountered these uneasy feelings again when Andrew was in grade 3. When he went to kindergarten, he and his friends used to greet each other with hugs and loving enthusiasm. But by the time he was 8 things were changing. I could see the 'boy culture' that he was a part of and this was my motivation to begin homeschooling him. It was a culture that alienated boys from their parents, that said that to be a boy is to be getting in trouble and to be careless with the feelings of others - to be 'tough' and mean. (I am not, of course, saying all schooled boys are like this. I'm just saying it is a cultural norm that is out there.) I could see him drifting away from me at the tender age of 8 and I knew that he still needed me. Joyfully, homeschooling restored our bond and gave my son's naturally compassionate nature space to flourish.

However, he is 14 now and he spends a lot of time away from me as seems developmentally appropriate. He spends hours and hours riding his bike at the skate park, working on different tricks ( it is better for me not to watch him practise... just him telling me about his wipe outs is enough to turn my hair grey...) He has retained that childlike quality - the ability to play and I love and admire that about him. I love that he has had the experience of growing up in the same town (we moved here when he was only 7 months old) and having that continuity that I never had - feeling like he is well regarded by adults who really know him and that his community is a safe place for him where he is well known.

Yesterday he spent the day at one of his friend's grandparent's place building dirt jumps with a couple of his friends. They came home for dinner and headed back out. On his way to be home by 9:30, he and his friends were racing down a long hill. One friend in front, ducked into a driveway so he could pop out and scare his friends after they went by. But they saw him and followed him into the small driveway. Just then, the owners of the house roared up in their car. Suspecting foul play, the man, leapt from the car and started yelling at them. Drew's friends took off but Andrew stopped. The man demanded to see ID before he left his property so he could know who he was. Of course Drew didn't have any. The man grabbed him and hauled him off his bike and pushed him to the ground. Andrew was terrified and confused. The man wouldn't listen to him and when Andrew swore at him as he was leaving, he chased after him. The man called the police who came and talked to Andrew and his friends on their way to our house and seeing that they didn't do anything, left them alone. Andrew got home and burst into my bedroom and poured this story out to me on the edge of tears. I called the police myself to see about this man assaulting my son but they never called me back.

I was very distraught that Andrew had experienced this and kept waking up all night with it on my mind. I knew I had to do something. Here is the thing. I know the man is a Mormon and a retired Fire Chief. I ranted in my head all morning - all the nasty things I would LIKE to say to this guy but would not actually be a good thing to say. My mother bear was roaring - someone had messed with my cub. I told Andrew that he and I were going to talk to this guy.

So we went. I started off by introducing myself as Andrea Clarke and I said, "I think you know my dad, Doug Clarke". So the guy knew that I knew he was a Mormon and that I knew what being a Mormon was supposed to mean. And I think that helped it go better. Andrew just wanted me to kick his butt. And I didn't exactly but I told him I was very disturbed to hear what had happened and we listened to that guy's side of the story and I told Andrew's. I wanted my son to hear me tell this guy that I knew he was a good kid. And I said it several times. At first the guy was very defensive. Finally he asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted him to know that every teen age boy who happened to be out at night was not up to 'no good' and that in fact, most of them weren't. And I wanted my son to know that I would stand up for him. I repeatedly pointed out to him that Andrew (and the other boys) hadn't done anything wrong other than be on his driveway. He actually eventually apologized to Andrew (after saying there was no way he would in the beginning) for hurting him. He wanted Drew to apologize to him for swearing which Andrew didn't do. He said Andrew could come any time - with me, with is dad or alone if he wanted to apologize at a later time.

I don't really think that Andrew needs to apologize. I think he experienced being powerless and that he retaliated with the only powerful thing he had - language. In those moments he was caught in the horrible, terrible way that male culture works. If that man had come home to find 3 fourteen year old girls in his driveway on bikes, he may have still been concerned but I don't think he would have acted so aggressively.

Why are we as a culture so afraid of young males? (okay, now I am getting philosophical) I think it is because we sense deep down that how we are treating them is not okay. We mentor and encourage young girls to come into their own power but we are afraid of the boys. We want them to adopt our culture's false power illusion - the illusion of 'power over' rather than power from within. We want them to grow up, get a job and aggressively advance in their job; their job must have priority over everything else in their lives - their relationships, their health, their peace of mind. Those men are winners. The others are losers. We (as a culture) harshly ridicule those men who have chosen another path - who have chosen happiness and inner peace over being a 'winner'. A man who doesn't buy into all of that is very threatening.

Back to young teen age boys... People assume they are criminals. And really, are most crimes like vandalism and break-ins really committed by young teenage boys? I don't really think so and crime reports don't say they are, either. Sure, maybe more often by men, than women but most of them are not actually teen agers. Yet we have a sense that it is young teen age men. Why? Is it because we have neutered them - taken their legitimate male power and confined them to classrooms and deny them the satisfaction of contributing meaningfully to society? And deep down we know it isn't right; we know they aren't happy and we are afraid of their revenge. Happy, well adjusted young men don't go out destroying the property of others. Disenfranchised young men who feel powerless do. I know this isn't true for all young men but it is of too many. I saw it again and again when I worked with the unemployed. Men who the school system had completely failed - talented men who had never had their real value reflected to them because they didn't fit into the very narrow role we have for boys and men. And smart men for whom school had seemed irrelevant because it wasn't meaningful to them. Truly I don't know why more people don't homeschool their sons. I think the school system is especially toxic for boys.

And I want to roar by biggest, loudest, homeschooling-mama-bear-roar because I HAVE A SON! And I don't want him to be experiencing the world like this. He is good and he is kind and he knows what is right and has the courage to stand up for what he believes. And he is a young man and he is sweet and very physical and it is OKAY TO BE LIKE THAT!!! I adore my son. I love him so hugely and I would protect him from all that. But of course I can't. I live in the world of women. All I can do is wrap my heart around him and let him find his way in the world and pray that world will change. And I know it is changing - I just want it to change fast enough for my son... He knows his mama sees his soul and knows him. I pray for a world where more men can do that for each other - can look at each other's souls and not see threats to their place in the male hierarchy but see the wonder of each other.

Funny. A long time ago, a mother would love her daughter, would raise her but knew that she had very little power and that her daughter must survive in the unfair world. I don't feel that way about any of my daughters. The world has changed since then for us in the Western World. But I feel that way about my son. My heart breaks. I wish he could be a little boy for longer. But I know he is a strong boy and I know I have done my best to fill him up and prepare him for his life. I believe in him.

Living With The Seasons

Winter has been really different for me this year. Really it is the culmination of changes that I have made this year. I have become a lot more conscious about the footprint I am leaving on this earth and the cost of our unconscious consumption. Listening to David Suzuki's talk, reading "The Humanure Handbook", "Living the Good Life" by Linda Cockburn and Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal Vegetable Miracle", this article and the company of like minded friends has all had an indelible impact. It wasn't a really dramatic, big change, more small, slow, gradual changes. Composting more, flushing less, less garbage because we are using less, more recycling, less consumption, more homemade, less plastic, more awareness.

Probably the biggest impact was reading "Animal Vegetable Miracle". I absolutely adore Barbara Kingsolver - I've read all of her novels and own most of them. I loved the look into her family life. And I loved that indeed, my impression of her from reading her novels was right! She is a kindred spirit! (as Anne would say) I was so inspired by her families efforts to be 'locavores' for a year. Inspired to become more self-sufficient myself. Inspired to eat more seasonally. This winter I have bought hardly any fresh fruit compared with other years - a few boxes of Chinese oranges at Christmas, a few bananas... and that's about it. We are eating our own apples and the fruit I dried and froze during the summer. And no has bleeding gums or other signs of scurvy yet. In fact, we seem to be a healthy lot. I bet my dried plums are a lot better for us than fruit that has travelled thousands of miles to get here, picked long before it was ripe. I have bought fresh veggies about every other week - an occasional dose of broccoli and carrots to go along with the squash from our garden and local farmers that I bought at the farmer's market at the end of the season. It is so much easier, in one sense, to give up trying to eat like it is still summer in December - with leafy salads and lots of fresh fruit. In another sense , it has not been so easy as it has required new recipes and habits. It has been fun learning to use those delicious slow roasted tomatoes from my garden. And every time we eat more of them, I dream about the tomatoes I will plant this year...

And all of that has changed they way I feel about winter, too. I had come to dread winter. The cold. The bundling up. The socks. Cold feet. Cold hands. Ice and snow. Darkness. I hated it, hunkered down and dreamed about spring and summer. But somehow living more in tune with the rhythm of the seasons, has changed all that. I am sure that the chickens in the back yard have helped, too. I am outside at least 4 times everyday feeding them, changing their water, letting them out or closing them in. I am living in the winter in my own yard and it just feels different. It now seems to me kind of like our whole culture fights against the changing of the seasons - like it somehow 'should' be the same all year round - the same food, the same activities, etc. It is amazing how much more enjoyment I am getting out of my life just accepting that this is not so - even when it comes to heating our house. Although we are very grateful to the advent of central heating, we have kept our house much cooler this year and we are looking forward to the heat of summer.

Anyways, all of this thinking and changing has led me to start a new blog called "Living With the Seasons". The goal of this blog is to document a year in the life of me and 2 of my good friends as we strive to live more in tune with nature in the way we live our lives - our activities and what we eat. The plan for the end result is to publish it as a book (through that site that you can convert your blog into a book) that will be both a resource of recipes, knitting and crocheting patterns, green cleaning tips, gardening and a keepsake for ourselves and our children. This will be my first post on that blog.

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.

Cheepie to Stew to Borscht

Well from the fondest of beginnings at the beginning of July when he was named "Cheepie" by Rhiannon and Auntie Martha through to his maturity when his name was changed to 'Stew' the day he first crowed and declared himself a rooster, to last night's dinner when he became 'Borscht', it has been quite a journey. We hatched him from an egg from the farm we used to buy free range eggs from - a couple of blocks from where we live. He was adored and played with - picked up almost daily. He learned to eat from our hands and would come running when we came out the door, hoping for treats. We were outside to hear his first crow which sounded rather like a dog barking... but developed into a nice, good-morning-kind-of-sound. In his vigorous youth, he soon began to do his 'duty' a little too enthusiastically for my wee flock. He moved on from 'fertilizing' his cohorts to 'fertilizing' my entire flock... so much for pure bred Silver Laced Wyandottes... And 19 weeks arrived (the ideal time for butchering chickens - maximum growth and minimum fat). Wednesday night we packed him up into a box and he spent a warm night in the basement. Thursday morning found him at my dear friend's house with some other roosters and hens about to lose their heads. Due to the change in regulations we did it ourselves. It was gory and fascinating to examine their insides. With another neighbour, we cheerfully killed, plucked and gutted 5 chickens that day - only one of mine - Stew - laughing, chatting and discovering. Friday he went into the pot. I used my dear friend's recipe for borscht.

Here it is. I dug up the last of my beets from my garden yesterday, too. My most massive beets were of the white variety so my borscht is a bit paler than one might expect. Borscht is one of my favourite soups, if not my absolute favourite! And I have to say it was absolutely delicious. And it tasted all the better that I had been a part of its production from start to finish.

Although Rhiannon refused to eat a single bite (there might be a developing vegetarian in there somewhere as she is refusing to eat any meat she has known. Says she will only eat pork and beef and as I never buy pork and very rarely buy beef....) she was definitely in there documenting our meal. These are her pictures.


She took several of me eating. Yes, so what I am wearing my toque at the table... and yes, I did make it (out of noro wool). And yes, those are bird feeders on the table, too. I was tired, okay? It was Dean's job to clear off the table and that is as good as it got done...

So there you have it... from me petting him as s chick to me happily devouring him. Thanks Cheepie... may your next life be as purposeful!

It's All Related

There has been a post simmering and bubbling beneath the surface for some time now. I've been searching for how I want to say what I have been feeling and thinking about. I saw David Suzuki speak here in Vernon at the Performing Arts Centre June 14. He is such a powerful and passionate speaker I was so moved by his presentation.

Sometimes it can be overwhelming - very overwhelming - to see where we are, and where we are heading as a species and as a planet. It is overwhelming to see what we have done to this incredibly beautiful and amazing planet. Do you know about the ocean of plastic? Please check out this article. You won't be the same after you read it - at least I know I am not. And very overwhelming to find out how long we have been heading that way - how long we have known what the chemicals we are surrounded by are doing to us. I think I have been grieving with the things that I have learned lately - the Humanure Handbook with all its studies performed in the SIXTIES AND SEVENTIES!!! and hearing David Suzuki and the book about the effects of pesticides on the food chain that changed his life written in 1962!!! and what I have been learning about permaculture and this article about what plastic is doing to our environment and then looking around and seeing how I am surrounded by plastic from my microwave oven to the shoes I wear to all the packaging on everything, to Kaetlyn's diabetic supplies, to this keyboard I am typing on, to our window washing equipment, to the toys my children have been playing with for 20 years.... and on and on - take a look - plastic is EVERYWHERE! It has become completely ubiquitous.

It can be so easy to judge myself and to judge others. It can be easy to feel so overwhelmed with where we are to where we need to be, that it feels like way to much to ever accomplish that we don't even try. It can be inviting to believe in God's magic wand that will 'poof' fix the planet and return it to its 'paradisaical glory' without us having to do it. Well what if that happened? We would just destroy the earth again with the way that we are living. How would we survive in such a paradise? We wouldn't know how because the way we live right now is creating a hell of this heaven we have been given to live upon. I think of the prophets of the Old Testament and it seems to me that David Suzuki is a lot more like that than old men handing out edicts about how many piercings a girl is allowed to have...

But I digress. As I was saying, it is so easy to go to judgement; it can be so easy to live in fear and terror. Yet this is the energy that has brought us to the point we are at. You see? It's all related. It's all about love. We have got to this point of disrespect with the earth because it reflects the disrespect we have for ourselves. We cannot love and honour the earth if we do not love and honour ourselves. Real change only comes from love. Only.

Let me expand on that. One of the ways we have got to where we are as a species, is by looking outside of ourselves for validation, approval, happiness. Consumerism has totally tapped into this. We are bombarded everyday by commercials and advertisements that flaunt our less-than-perfectness to get us to buy their product so that we can be whole. Buy this orange juice/cereal/breakfast bar to have this loving family having friendly banter over breakfast. Buy this car, buy this deodorant, buy this shampoo, buy, buy, buy, whatever you do, buy but don't think you will be good enough because you will still need more stuff. As a nation we are carrying an incredible debt load in our efforts to buy, buy, buy but somehow we never get there. Its consumerism's treadmill. Round and round we go but we don't actually get anywhere. Unlike the treadmill, though we are actually doing something, we are getting ourselves deeper and deeper in debt and we are poisoning our own environment bit by bigger bit.

As David Suzuki said, we are the earth - we are made from the elements of the earth that our mother eats during pregnancy, we are made from the elements of the earth that we eat everyday. We are the air and we are the water. We cannot poison any of those things without poisoning ourselves. Yet we are pumping toxic waste into all of those with increasing speed everyday. To think there would be no consequence is sheer stupidity and lacks the sense that animals have who instinctively do what we don't - naturally live in harmony with their environment. And why are we doing this? In our crazed thirst for love and happiness outside of ourselves - in stuff. We work more to buy more we go into debt to buy more we work more to pay the debt with increasing stress heaped upon our heads, in our lives, in our relationships. What is happening in the environment is only a reflection of what is happening in our individual lives. What really can fulfill us - time to ourselves, relationships, all these are destroyed in the is crazy consumer lifestyle.

But I digress again. As I was saying, David Suzuki pointed out as his First Nation's friend's have taught him, we are the air, the water and the earth. So how do we heal what is happening? With love. We love the environment in direct relation to how we love ourselves. Heal yourself and you heal the earth. Heal yourself, get off the destructive treadmill and love. Love yourself, love the land around you. Love and honour your own passions, dreams and abilities - truly honour and love those around you. It is amazing what can happen with a little bit of real love. The world is dying for a little bit of real love.

And this is why I am involved in the Inner World School. We create the Outer World with our Inner World and we have created this crisis in the Outer World with our collective Inner Worlds. I believe real change only comes from understanding, loving and healing our Inner Worlds. Only then are we really capable of understanding, loving and healing our Outer World. It may just be a very small thing reaching a very few children, adults and families in Vernon right now but it is what I can offer from my love. It is what drives me to continue and to offer this small piece of my heart. Because although love can be small, it is never insignificant. It is everything. It is God and the power of the Universe. And if my love touches only one child (and even it if it is my own child) then my efforts are not wasted. And this is what I believe salvation is - not the machinations of any religion or the observance of any outward ritual (although those can help) but what is in our own hearts - it is the love we have for ourselves and for each other that can save us.

This is a very long post. It has been brewing for awhile and came gushing out of me this morning. Congratulations if you managed to read this far!

I promise.... I'll be back to talking about chickens tomorrow...

Them

So with a daughter in College in downtown Montreal, you can be sure I have been following the situation. The shootings that happened yesterday afternoon were actually at a College only a block away from LaSalle College that Erin is attending. She called me while it was happening so I would not be freaked out when I heard about it. Considerate girl. I would probably been on the next flight and dragged her home with me... Not that scary things can't happen here. Vernon was afterall home to the Gakhal family masacre in 1996.

Which brings me to my point. When something like this happens, we point to the evil-doer who perpetuated the crime and wonder what went wrong with him? He must have always been different from us, right? He's one of 'them'. One of 'them' whose personalities are somehow deffective from birth and isn't it evident now that we look back. We are in no way responsible. It has nothing to do with us.

Or does it? It is like looking back on history and seeing Hitler and his anti-semitism in a vacuum. Hitler was so evil. Often he is used to embody evil. We think of him in a vacuum. Hitler was not in a vacuum. He was a member of society and a part of the culture at the time. Anti--semitism was rampant around the world. Hitler was only acting out a part of the society. Why do you think the world took so long to respond. For heaven's sake 6,000,000 Jews died before he was stopped!

I believe we are all one. Kimveer Gil is a part of our culture. In a culture that glorifies violence or thinks that watching violence or playing violent games are entertainment, he is not alone. There is no them and us. There is only US. All of us. Our violent thoughts or our violent communication all contribute to the violence in the world. What went wrong with Kimveer Gil? I don't believe as has been suggested on the news that he came 'defective from the factory'. Once he was a perfect baby boy. Somewhere things went wrong for him. We failed him somehow.

I am sad for the families of the students at Dawson College for their horrendous experience. I am sad for Kimveer Gil and his family and I am sad for all of us. How sad that he thought this was what he had to contribute. Lets not waste his contribution. May it serve as a wake up call to all of us. Accept yourself. Love yourself. Reach out. Love those in your life. Ultimately I believe that technique is secondary. It is love that matters.