I've done the pokaroo kind of thing I always do when I live in the same place for a little while. I drop off the writing bandwagon. Why oh why does that written reflection time diminish in a sessile lifestyle? Sure, it hasn't disappeared, I still reflect in my journal from time to time, but my journal isn't filling up nearly as quickly as it does when I'm cycling around, when I'm visiting or seeing new landscapes, new people, myself in new light. And it's the written kind of reflection that I know my heart appreciates so much. The idea that I can open my mind and let it flow, free writing styles, out through my fingertips; it's just, well, theraputic.
And so now it seems, rather then picking up a pen, for a reason that likely has to do with the fact that I'm so busy getting ready for my next work commitment (going to Vancouver to facilitate an Otesha team's orientation and training week) and I feel a (large) degree of some stress building up within me, it's like a desire for that therapy has turned into a downright need. Some days, my soul just needs to write. Maybe this is one of them.
Oh, the dog days of summer. Why they are coined the 'dog' days, I'm not sure, but jeez, I love the heat, love feeling comfortable late at night, laying diagonally in a low hanging hammock letting the charged up glare of the full moon spill down over my face, my bare arms and legs. Where I can spend time after dark, slowly walking back and forth between rain barrel and vegetable patch, slowly watering the plants I've babied since March. And summer for me is just so delicious - delicious to the point where I can sense the nutrition in it - like the vegetable that's grown in my yard has just more nutrients, and those nutrients somehow lend more flavour to your plate. Tonight I had one such meal. Slow fried garlic, onions and potatoes from the garden, dappled with sage from the front yard. A couple eggs from the farmers market, a rare treat they are, filled with more garlic, chard, kale and parsley from the front garden as well. And I just can't get enough of the delicate flavour of my perfectly ripe orange tomatoes - the big fruits which have finally turned from green to sunshine orange, and have managed to create the most gnarly and unique shape on top of themselves, that it's a project just to decide how you might choose to chop it. Mix those choppings with some garden basil, some balsamic, salt and olive oil, and the fresh juiciness of it all just insults your mouth and nose in the best way possible.
Okay, enough trying to turn you on via food porn. Summer is also delicious in the energetic sense. People are out about, nearly nude in their dress, the air is thick, sexy even I'd say. It's just a sexy time of year I guess.
I did kinda want to share a bit about what the heck I've been up to over and up here (down for some) in Ottawa. Since I wrote my last blog post (in January!) I've made a bit of a life here in Ottawa. I've done lots of cooking, gardening, preserving, fermenting, dancing, yoga, and work. Don't forget the work. Especially in recent weeks, Otesha has managed to occupy each spare moment of my brain power, and take up just slightly less of that in terms of my time. However, among this work, I could never manage to pass up the opportunity to host Couch Surfers, cycle tourists, dance dance dance, do a french course, go on a few camping trips, cycle in the Gatineaus, have plenty of board game parties, swim in the pond lots, ride to Kingston, ride to Montreal, do more yoga, go to two wonderful music festivals, share lot's with others about this crazy thing Otesha, and build some really beautiful connections with folks in Ottawa and maintain connections with folks beyond. Yep, busy, but pleasant.
It wasn't until this past month that I started to question the balance of things here for me. Balance. What a great word. is it actually practical? Probably? even possible? Balance to me really includes the things I mentioned above, but at a more spread out pace - so that the moments we need to pause, to breath it all in, aren't lost.
On that note, my physical body needs to take pause. Take rest. Goodnight.
