I've spent some time during the last Operation Groundswell program in a very delicious food establishment in Phnom Penh. It's a very different restaurant then your typical Khmer fare. You won't find lok lak, amok, or sweet and sour vegetables at this hip modern Cafe type eatery. Instead you find "power bowls" loaded with fermented beets and cabbage, delicious home grown sprouts, lightly oiled and perfectly cooked winter squash, crispy fingers of tempeh, roasted red pepper humus, spiralized cucumbers tender from their apple cider vinegar soak, all over a bed of tender young greens. Or choose the home made falafel served with a fresh salad, some fermented pickles and a smear of vegan cashew cheese. Sip on a fresh cold pressed green juice, have a superfood smoothie, or top it off with a raw salted carmel cashew cheesecake. You get the picture? I was in my food dream! Wonderfully presented meals fullll of flavour and full of vegetables-my kinda meal packs in the nutrition. I loved this restaurant so much i have returned every time I've stopped through Phnom Penh with operation groundswell.
And each time I made this observation that I am about to share with you...
It really is a strange thing the dichotomy of a grossly dramatic class system. I quietly people watched one of the times I visited said Cafe, savoring my 4 dollar iced coconut matcha green tea latte. I watched the young, beautiful expats flow in and out, greeting one another, surprised to see other friends in this cafe which i began to realize was quite the popular expat hangout. Over the two hours that I sat, working, reading and writing on my day away from the team, I heard numerous (none of which I identified as Khmer) people excitedly speaking in rapid fire English about their recent trips back home to Canada, their work trip to Yemen, and their reunion in Colorado.
I observed silently the young and equally as beautiful Khmer staff members serve this expat crowd, myself included, this food so far from the types of food they likely grew up eating. I noticed the confused look on one staff woman's face when a customer asked for a plastic dish for water to serve to her dog; in a culture where dogs are not pets, but guard animals whom are viewed as quite filthy and treated relatively poorly, the restaurant staff must of thought this american woman was insane. But she politely responded by bringing out a personal water dish for the pup.
And I stared at the menu of items, all of which were over 4 dollars but under 7 dollars, i reflected on how this restaurant was likely completely out of economic reach for every wait staff that worked there, and many other Khmer people (of course there are also plenty of Khmer people who could with out a doubt afford many meals here). For me, a lower end of middle class person in Canada, I found the restaurant cheap by Canadian standards an expensive by Khmer standards.
And I find it weird. So strange the situation, where I am dining at a place out of economic reach by most staff, whom are all of a different race then all of the patrons.
I'm sure similar situations are alive and rampant in Canadian towns and cities, where class systems and race are paralleled and privilege systems are very present but that I don't take notice of as readily. (Possible examples that come to mind are the local corner store run by Asian immigrants, a Sikh taxi driver who drives me home from the pub and a white urban Tim Hortons worker). But here in Cambodia it is so much more in my face. As I struggle to understand my own privilege in being in this part of the world, I sometimes get nervous - as so many do when we start conversations about power and race and class systems. As a very privileged woman from Canada I find it difficult to determine what to do with some emotions around the example above that I felt in the restaurant: guilt that I feel, and in turn the guilt I feel like I don't even deserve to feel.
I don't know what I don't know. My invisible knapsack still has some junk in there that I have not shone a flashlight on. And so I'm quite certain that there are elements of my life that are outwardly oppressive and other ways still that I could more usefully use this privilege to break down oppressive structures in society and oppressive patterns in my own habits. I'm still learning. But it's important to recognize and to talk about. And to be grateful. To be grateful for the even the smallest privileges that you do have.
Friday, August 21, 2015
Friday, July 24, 2015
Northern Thailand, Words from Bali
I recently spent a week in northern Thailand after finishing the facilitation of my first Operation Groundswell program. I wanted to seek out something nourishing, for the mind and body. After having a separate week of connection and luxury of a special kind in Bali with my sister, I gathered with the team to wrap up the program for a couple of days - away from Bangkok on the canals leading to the gulf of Thailand. After this, I followed some leads to the north.
I was drawn North because of an ecovillage named Pun Pun, and the nearby Panya project. I stayed at the super special Thailand Earth Home: a homestay about two hours to the north of Chaing Mai. The homestay was permaculture inspired; growing many of the vegetables that they use on site, having stunning adobe (a natural building practice which combines clay, sand and often a plant fibre like rice or wheat straw) buildings well decorated with hand painting and clay incorporated mosaics. Meals were served just meters away from the chicken enclosure and were traditional and healthy northern Thai dishes, shared with the family under yet another beautiful earthen orange building, this one with only low walls and thick beams, with images of farmers working their rice fields painted on the walls.
Best of all was the homestays close proximity to Pun Pun. A beautiful walk trough a tiny village and in between farm fields up a red dirt lane took me to the Thai ecovillage Pun Pun. Here a group of people, some couples with families, some young, some older, live together in community; developing their own skills towards self reliance and sharing these skills with others through Pun Pun workshops, and welcoming volunteers like myself to come and learn.
I spent two days working alongside the community, first spending time sorting and stacking old thatch, using the most termite ridden bits of natural leaf roofing to mulch around nearby edible leaf trees and bushes. The following day I spent time with an older Thai man who showed us how to make a strong bamboo trellis home for their over growing butterfly beans, followed by creating a fence for a new chicken breeding enclosure - another way that this group is trying to become self reliant in their need for external inputs. We gathered for lunch together under a huge roofed area, siting on the floor at a simple low wooden table, the only furniture in the room. We ate sitting on the floor, together, mostly Thais, and some folks from the west. We ate delicious coconut greens curry, stickey rice, a scrambled egg vegetable omelette, a sour and sweet green mango salad, and raw additions of artfully peeled cucumbers, a sour wild grassy green that was a perfect accompaniment to the creamy and rich coconut curry. Ohhh the foods of Thailand...
Nearby to Pun Pun was another community of people, this one younger, and all farang (i.e. foreigners). They offer permaculture courses and learning opportunities to a broader community. Of a totally different energetic vibe, it was super cool to see the ways that these communities were very different, yet with a similar mission to spread knowledge and experience to the world on self reliant and sustainable lifestyles.
One more special spot nearby was a reservoir, one that I jumped into (Thai style fully clothed) one day after a sweaty day of volunteering. But I swam in the reservoir not with out haste, and contemplation. There is a serious drought in Thailand at the moment, a serious drought in the entire region actually - it certainly stems to the Permaculture farm in Cambodia that I spend time on with Operation Groundswell). What is meant to be the monsoon season, where rains come every day fast and hard, instead has been replaced by the regular dryness and heat of the opposite season. This means that folks in northern Thailand are a month and a half behind in planting their rice. Seeing the patches of lime green rice seedlings, sitting all tightly packed in a sole rice bed, somehow seeming to personify a child on a road trip "are we there yet? can I be planted out yet?" I recognize the gravity of this drought, no one dares plant out their rice for fear it will whither and die in the dry fields that are meant to be flooded in water. That's why it's important places like pun pun exist: to teach and share knowledge about what it is to be self reliant. And in the current global climate, skills in adaptation and self reliance in rural areas worldwide are becoming extremely important.
After my time in the rural area of Chaing Mai province, I arranged to be picked up by the songthaew (a covered pick up truck with benches in the back) that passes through the village once daily to get me back to Chaing Mai for some yoga and dance. Among roosters, packages of styrofoam and mystery boxes, ready to be delivered en route, I made my way back to the city. Playing the ukulele of my new friend once off the truck, I wandered into the city to find a place for a couple nights.
I spent time over the days that followed eating at vegetarian restaurants, wandering one of the best night markets I've ever been at in Asia, sampling delicious sweet and savory rice treats in a wide variety of forms, and dancing my heart open!
I found a lovely yoga community in Chaing Mai, where I realized that my time in Asia has been missing something. Over these couple of days I manged to take two yoga classes, sit in a group meditation, play at a contact improvisation dance workshop, and dance fully and sweetly at a meditative dance practice - ecstatic dance. And, once again I received the affirmation that dance is one of my practices. Being in a room full of energy, brimming with intention and exploding with interesting emotive evoking music, dance becomes my meditation, my emotional release. So beautiful it was, so hard it was, so many letting goes and realizations through this 2 hour dance practice. And the physical contact through dance with zero expectation was also able to momentarily fill a space a small void that I've had for the past months here in Asia. Through these experiences I realize that I miss ecstatic dance, as a means of expression, meditation, as a way to escape my chatty brain and come fully into the sensation of my body, letting whatever unconscious emotional needs to be processed in the physical expressions. Felt through the music, and poured out through motion.
____________________________
Rewind a little. I can't forget to share just a little bit about a spectacular 9 days I spent with my dear sister Krista, who joined me from her home in Australia for a Balinese and Gili Island adventure in the week prior to this northern Thai romp I was just sharing. Here are some words that summarize our adventure together:
Rest, volcano hiking, ocean, rice food, rice terraces, rice offerings, connection, dome house, coral, cocktails, rambunctious cats, seaside yoga, green landscapes, perfect temperatures, swimming, Balinese dancing (watching and doing), tai chi, snorkelling with turtles and fishes, long delicious breakfasts, hot chocolate(s), juice, welcome drinks, Ramadan, ceremony, bicycles, temples, sand, Komodo dragons, mount Batur, Krista and Kayla, Gado-Gado, temph delights, boats, mosquito nets, chinteaka (ie beautiful!), turtles, Titi, beautiful sitting places, comfortable sitting places, quiet countryside...
_________________________________
Fast forward a moment. Here I am in Cambodia, more then 10 days into the second program with Operation Groundswell. By way of sharing just a little piece of what I experienced in this most recent week at the drought stricken, but generosity rich Cambodian countryside, I'll leave you with this strange poem:
The touch of the wind on my toes at night,
Moving my pink canopy ever so slightly.
Sounds of geckos echo into the woods,
While dry red earth crys deeply for rain.
Monks chant on loudspeaker,
While locals prostrate and pray.
Pray
for rain
for water
for Love.
My belly is full
My cheeks hurt from smiles
My sleeps are luxurious, restful
I am safe.
And yet, something is missing.
Or is it that
I Am
Missing
Something.
I was drawn North because of an ecovillage named Pun Pun, and the nearby Panya project. I stayed at the super special Thailand Earth Home: a homestay about two hours to the north of Chaing Mai. The homestay was permaculture inspired; growing many of the vegetables that they use on site, having stunning adobe (a natural building practice which combines clay, sand and often a plant fibre like rice or wheat straw) buildings well decorated with hand painting and clay incorporated mosaics. Meals were served just meters away from the chicken enclosure and were traditional and healthy northern Thai dishes, shared with the family under yet another beautiful earthen orange building, this one with only low walls and thick beams, with images of farmers working their rice fields painted on the walls.
Best of all was the homestays close proximity to Pun Pun. A beautiful walk trough a tiny village and in between farm fields up a red dirt lane took me to the Thai ecovillage Pun Pun. Here a group of people, some couples with families, some young, some older, live together in community; developing their own skills towards self reliance and sharing these skills with others through Pun Pun workshops, and welcoming volunteers like myself to come and learn.
I spent two days working alongside the community, first spending time sorting and stacking old thatch, using the most termite ridden bits of natural leaf roofing to mulch around nearby edible leaf trees and bushes. The following day I spent time with an older Thai man who showed us how to make a strong bamboo trellis home for their over growing butterfly beans, followed by creating a fence for a new chicken breeding enclosure - another way that this group is trying to become self reliant in their need for external inputs. We gathered for lunch together under a huge roofed area, siting on the floor at a simple low wooden table, the only furniture in the room. We ate sitting on the floor, together, mostly Thais, and some folks from the west. We ate delicious coconut greens curry, stickey rice, a scrambled egg vegetable omelette, a sour and sweet green mango salad, and raw additions of artfully peeled cucumbers, a sour wild grassy green that was a perfect accompaniment to the creamy and rich coconut curry. Ohhh the foods of Thailand...
Nearby to Pun Pun was another community of people, this one younger, and all farang (i.e. foreigners). They offer permaculture courses and learning opportunities to a broader community. Of a totally different energetic vibe, it was super cool to see the ways that these communities were very different, yet with a similar mission to spread knowledge and experience to the world on self reliant and sustainable lifestyles.
One more special spot nearby was a reservoir, one that I jumped into (Thai style fully clothed) one day after a sweaty day of volunteering. But I swam in the reservoir not with out haste, and contemplation. There is a serious drought in Thailand at the moment, a serious drought in the entire region actually - it certainly stems to the Permaculture farm in Cambodia that I spend time on with Operation Groundswell). What is meant to be the monsoon season, where rains come every day fast and hard, instead has been replaced by the regular dryness and heat of the opposite season. This means that folks in northern Thailand are a month and a half behind in planting their rice. Seeing the patches of lime green rice seedlings, sitting all tightly packed in a sole rice bed, somehow seeming to personify a child on a road trip "are we there yet? can I be planted out yet?" I recognize the gravity of this drought, no one dares plant out their rice for fear it will whither and die in the dry fields that are meant to be flooded in water. That's why it's important places like pun pun exist: to teach and share knowledge about what it is to be self reliant. And in the current global climate, skills in adaptation and self reliance in rural areas worldwide are becoming extremely important.
After my time in the rural area of Chaing Mai province, I arranged to be picked up by the songthaew (a covered pick up truck with benches in the back) that passes through the village once daily to get me back to Chaing Mai for some yoga and dance. Among roosters, packages of styrofoam and mystery boxes, ready to be delivered en route, I made my way back to the city. Playing the ukulele of my new friend once off the truck, I wandered into the city to find a place for a couple nights.
I spent time over the days that followed eating at vegetarian restaurants, wandering one of the best night markets I've ever been at in Asia, sampling delicious sweet and savory rice treats in a wide variety of forms, and dancing my heart open!
I found a lovely yoga community in Chaing Mai, where I realized that my time in Asia has been missing something. Over these couple of days I manged to take two yoga classes, sit in a group meditation, play at a contact improvisation dance workshop, and dance fully and sweetly at a meditative dance practice - ecstatic dance. And, once again I received the affirmation that dance is one of my practices. Being in a room full of energy, brimming with intention and exploding with interesting emotive evoking music, dance becomes my meditation, my emotional release. So beautiful it was, so hard it was, so many letting goes and realizations through this 2 hour dance practice. And the physical contact through dance with zero expectation was also able to momentarily fill a space a small void that I've had for the past months here in Asia. Through these experiences I realize that I miss ecstatic dance, as a means of expression, meditation, as a way to escape my chatty brain and come fully into the sensation of my body, letting whatever unconscious emotional needs to be processed in the physical expressions. Felt through the music, and poured out through motion.
____________________________
Rewind a little. I can't forget to share just a little bit about a spectacular 9 days I spent with my dear sister Krista, who joined me from her home in Australia for a Balinese and Gili Island adventure in the week prior to this northern Thai romp I was just sharing. Here are some words that summarize our adventure together:
Rest, volcano hiking, ocean, rice food, rice terraces, rice offerings, connection, dome house, coral, cocktails, rambunctious cats, seaside yoga, green landscapes, perfect temperatures, swimming, Balinese dancing (watching and doing), tai chi, snorkelling with turtles and fishes, long delicious breakfasts, hot chocolate(s), juice, welcome drinks, Ramadan, ceremony, bicycles, temples, sand, Komodo dragons, mount Batur, Krista and Kayla, Gado-Gado, temph delights, boats, mosquito nets, chinteaka (ie beautiful!), turtles, Titi, beautiful sitting places, comfortable sitting places, quiet countryside...
_________________________________
Fast forward a moment. Here I am in Cambodia, more then 10 days into the second program with Operation Groundswell. By way of sharing just a little piece of what I experienced in this most recent week at the drought stricken, but generosity rich Cambodian countryside, I'll leave you with this strange poem:
The touch of the wind on my toes at night,
Moving my pink canopy ever so slightly.
Sounds of geckos echo into the woods,
While dry red earth crys deeply for rain.
Monks chant on loudspeaker,
While locals prostrate and pray.
Pray
for rain
for water
for Love.
My belly is full
My cheeks hurt from smiles
My sleeps are luxurious, restful
I am safe.
And yet, something is missing.
Or is it that
I Am
Missing
Something.
 |
| from the top of Mount Batur, Bali |
 |
| My main squeeze, Krista. Gili Air |
 |
| Sunrise in rural Chaing Mai province |
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Scorpions, permaculture, elephants, and Khmer generosity
I can hardly believe this past 30 days is complete. The bulk of the first program, (Operation Groundswell's animal conservation program here in Cambodia and Thailand) is done! I've really enjoyed this past month and have really felt myself stepping into the role as Program Leader quite readily and easily. It feels natural for me to sort out travel logistics, to teach and play silly games with willing adults, to facilitate serious discussions around issues of power and privilege, the complicated story of volunteering abroad, environmental sustainability, cultural literacy, etc. It's felt great to excersise my first aid muscles, and to care for many folks while they've been experiencing physical challenges on (what is for some) their first time traveling outside of Canada. It's been easy to keep a positive attitude, even during the stifling heat, during the bombardment of tuktuk drivers, during difficult sweaty volunteering assignments (carry 100 buckets of gravel up that jungly hill? Okay! Dig 25 two foot deep holes in the school yard soil that is as hard as bedrock, on a stale 40 degree day? We totally got this team!!) It has been affirming to feel some of my natural tendencies shine as the strengths that they are. To feel the work I am doing is natural, to feel like I'm offering my gifts to the world while having fun....oh how grateful I feel to have that going on right now!
Gratitude indeed. For this and so much more... For the mysterious déjà vu I just experienced, for the ability to work alongside a great leader partner. For the generosity of so many Khmer people we have met. For copious amounts of rice. Gratitude for trees, 1500 saplings of which we replanted. The Cambodian landscape is being absolutely raped by their own government's corruption as they partner with mega companies from abroad and literally steal land from already fragile communities who rely heavily on the intrinsic value of the forest-these trees planted are important. I'm grateful that organizations like Ockenden Cambodia are run purely by Cambodians who care about the forest and about the earth, about their country, and on a seemingly uphill battle they are still passionate enough to talk to poor rural Cambodians about rubbish control, water saving, organic agricultre, seed saving and compost making.
I am grateful for all the little moments over the past month. The hand gestures made to realize how to make homemade Khmer sweet cakes. Or the bicycle ride through the countryside to a rice paper making shop, and the horrible and distinct aroma of the fermenting fish sauce beside the river in Battambang. I'm grateful for the nourishing rice and curry meals ate outside, while sweat traces a line down the indent off my spine and I glare up at the massive tree on the permaculture farm, so grateful for the shade of that tree. Or the moment when you are playing a silly game on a rooftop in Kratie looking across the mighty Mekong River, with a bunch of other cheerful 'adults' feeling your most excited inner child clapping and cheering. Or the feeling of a shared soccer game with Khmer youth. With no need to communicate through language you giggle and hoot as goals are scored and shots missed. Or the gravity of having a woman share her story of the Khmer Rouge-having her father and brother completely disappear and working for years with little food on a rural farm for "the organization". I'm grateful for Buddism; to hear the early morning chants of the monks at the wat down the road, and to have two young monks join us and bless the baby turtles we released into the stillness of the Mekong. There are also the times within a group where dynamics are challenged, people are feeling tense-I love to see these processes unfold, and to facilitate expressions of discontent or anger, and then go about finding solutions, compromises, or ownership in next steps. Juicy...so juicy. Hard, uncomfortable, but really neat to see if members are willing, how common ground, agreement and consensus can be reached.
I think I could bring up moment after moment for paragraphs and paragraphs. But then I'd just be telling you the whole story. And what is life without a little mystery? What moments have you in awe, have you being grateful for this wierd and wonderful life these days?
I feel good today. I'm en route to visit with krista in Bali for a week, before I head back to Bangkok to have a two day disorientation session with the group (reflect on how they will take what they learned back home, celebrate the journey and our work accomplishments, and discuss the idea of reverse culture shock). It will be special to reconnect with the sister I haven't seen in a year, and who I speak to quite sporadically. But these in person meet ups are gems-when we can fall asleep super late chatting, discussing, advising. Confiding about what we are afraid of, and what we are looking to discover in this life. It's like I'm going home this week. Wherever there is love, there is home. And this return to home comes at a good time. Though I am feeling great, I can't help but dream of Canadian summer. About annual camping trips with the Ottawa women I have come to love so much, or about the cottage weekends, lake swims and ideal bike riding weather... Homesickness I suppose? At the end of this visit with Kris, I trust I will be jazzed up with even more energy to facilitate program number 2, with a brand new group of people.
Until next time I hope you have a happy sunny summer day. I hope you have some gratitude in your heart and that the light shines inside and outside you brightly on this the summer solstice.
Gratitude indeed. For this and so much more... For the mysterious déjà vu I just experienced, for the ability to work alongside a great leader partner. For the generosity of so many Khmer people we have met. For copious amounts of rice. Gratitude for trees, 1500 saplings of which we replanted. The Cambodian landscape is being absolutely raped by their own government's corruption as they partner with mega companies from abroad and literally steal land from already fragile communities who rely heavily on the intrinsic value of the forest-these trees planted are important. I'm grateful that organizations like Ockenden Cambodia are run purely by Cambodians who care about the forest and about the earth, about their country, and on a seemingly uphill battle they are still passionate enough to talk to poor rural Cambodians about rubbish control, water saving, organic agricultre, seed saving and compost making.
I am grateful for all the little moments over the past month. The hand gestures made to realize how to make homemade Khmer sweet cakes. Or the bicycle ride through the countryside to a rice paper making shop, and the horrible and distinct aroma of the fermenting fish sauce beside the river in Battambang. I'm grateful for the nourishing rice and curry meals ate outside, while sweat traces a line down the indent off my spine and I glare up at the massive tree on the permaculture farm, so grateful for the shade of that tree. Or the moment when you are playing a silly game on a rooftop in Kratie looking across the mighty Mekong River, with a bunch of other cheerful 'adults' feeling your most excited inner child clapping and cheering. Or the feeling of a shared soccer game with Khmer youth. With no need to communicate through language you giggle and hoot as goals are scored and shots missed. Or the gravity of having a woman share her story of the Khmer Rouge-having her father and brother completely disappear and working for years with little food on a rural farm for "the organization". I'm grateful for Buddism; to hear the early morning chants of the monks at the wat down the road, and to have two young monks join us and bless the baby turtles we released into the stillness of the Mekong. There are also the times within a group where dynamics are challenged, people are feeling tense-I love to see these processes unfold, and to facilitate expressions of discontent or anger, and then go about finding solutions, compromises, or ownership in next steps. Juicy...so juicy. Hard, uncomfortable, but really neat to see if members are willing, how common ground, agreement and consensus can be reached.
I think I could bring up moment after moment for paragraphs and paragraphs. But then I'd just be telling you the whole story. And what is life without a little mystery? What moments have you in awe, have you being grateful for this wierd and wonderful life these days?
I feel good today. I'm en route to visit with krista in Bali for a week, before I head back to Bangkok to have a two day disorientation session with the group (reflect on how they will take what they learned back home, celebrate the journey and our work accomplishments, and discuss the idea of reverse culture shock). It will be special to reconnect with the sister I haven't seen in a year, and who I speak to quite sporadically. But these in person meet ups are gems-when we can fall asleep super late chatting, discussing, advising. Confiding about what we are afraid of, and what we are looking to discover in this life. It's like I'm going home this week. Wherever there is love, there is home. And this return to home comes at a good time. Though I am feeling great, I can't help but dream of Canadian summer. About annual camping trips with the Ottawa women I have come to love so much, or about the cottage weekends, lake swims and ideal bike riding weather... Homesickness I suppose? At the end of this visit with Kris, I trust I will be jazzed up with even more energy to facilitate program number 2, with a brand new group of people.
Until next time I hope you have a happy sunny summer day. I hope you have some gratitude in your heart and that the light shines inside and outside you brightly on this the summer solstice.
This is the high school yard where we dug deep holes for trees to be planted
Our completed compost pile at Ockenden farm
Boating across the Mekong to participate in a turtle release with monks to bless the turtles and with the Mekong Turtle Conservation Centre
My favourite elephant at Elephant Valley Project, Moon
Friday, May 22, 2015
Latin to Khmer, iguanas to elephants, ecology to genocide
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| Wat Pho complex, Bangkok |
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reclining Buddha at Wat Pho, Bangkok
|
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| Buddhas at Wat Pho |
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| Boat ride on the Mekong near Kratie, Cambodia |
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| Fruity tooty |
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| Elephant Valley Project, the sanctuary where I'll be doing some work this summer |
At moments I feel as though I am I a dream, a state of in betweenness, where I am confounded by these peoples friendliness and openness, after such a dramatic and recent genocide, and considering the enduring tumultuous and corrupt government that still exists today. It's such a complex and confusing reality here, with opposites so close to the tip of your nose, the expression in your face is taken to a new level. After finding myself engulfed by the novel "First they Killed my Father" a book written in the voice of a child who endured the horrors a child should never under the Khmer Rouge of the late 1970's - I am feeling those same feelings I felt here in Cambodia 6 years ago. These emotions of frustration that such horror exists in this world; my gratitude and guilt for having the privilege to grow up where I did....
Walker and I have already met some of the very inspiring Cambodians that we will work alongside in the coming weeks. Folks who are endeavoring to improve food security, increase community resiliency, improve the habitat of the Mekong River for turtles, Bunong people who have suffered from government land grabs, to the extreme detriment of their communities, and in turn the exploitation of their elephants and forests for lack of other choice. These people know how to laugh. At the same time as meeting with these people, Walker and I navigate the weird world of border crossings, bus systems, and food practicalities, budgeting, and so much more, to prepare ourselves for having 11 new travelers with us here in just a couple days time.
It's quite the mission.
It's also so strange to think about how easy it truly is to move around this world. Just 10 days ago I was in Ottawa, 20 days before that I was on a boat in the Galápagos Islands with my parents.
In the Galápagos with my fabulous parents. These two, can adapt with out complaints (maybe I have a bit of this positive quality? ;). They truly rolled with the plans that I made for us in Ecuador. From the super rustic cold brick cabana in a rural Ecuadorian Andes village, to the simplest of (fake) sailboats that literally lost its propeller at week's end, rocking and rolling; to literally sleeping with many a winged creature, my parents were the easiest of going. They trusted my basic Spanish, my ability to navigate us through this Latin world so different from their reality in Canada. And the amazement of the Galápagos wildlife and nature was truly a reward. As were the plantain and cassava treats for my moms celiac belly. We snorkeled with rays, with white tipped sharks, marine iguanas. I did a water dance with the playful sea lions, feeling like a mermaid... I called out to the super chill sea turtles as the frantic brightly coloured fish and sea urchins darted around me. I squealed through my snorkel as the super speedy penguin darted by, only to be distracted and not notice the sea lion swimming STRAIGHT at me. In their playfulness, at last moment they circle, spiral out of my vision, disappearing into the periphery of my goggle mask reduced vision... The majesty of this place, this collection of volcanic islands 1000 kilometers off the coast of mainland Ecuador is special. Truly.
It's so special I'm not convinced I should have been there at all. In ecosystems so special, I have a difficult time understanding how the human animal has any deserving place...our impact is confusing there-apparently tourist money has brought a great deal of ability to researchers and preservation efforts of local governments. But the potential for poor processing of garbage and human waste, and the unavoidable reliance on the mainland for all food and fuel (because of the volcanic nature of the islands, not many food crops are suited to growing there, though a unique collection of flora has adapted to life on (relatively) fresh lava flows.) Maybe instead, we should all just watch a BBC documentary on the Galápagos?!
But there is something truly amazing about the sheer thrill and excitement that humans have when they get to encounter other life so closely, in the wild. Whether it's boating along beside a huge pod of bottle nose Dolphins or popping up from your view of the reef to be face to face with marine iguanas sunbathing, the bright blue feet of the famous Galápagos boobies, along with the sally light foot crab, all within one square foot...there is something so so special about the realization that this earth is teeming with life. It's life different then a humans life, and with an element of mystery - but its a recognition of this sort of shared experience. This acknowledgement that we are not the only life on this earth, that it is home to so so so many other lives. And perhaps this simple realization that can be catalyzed by close physical experience with the wild life that we share mama earth with, raises a humans consciousness to the interdependence and integral connection of all life on this earth. I hope that this is true for some, and that in turn maybe actions in their lives shift...
As I get ready to welcome 11 new friends to Bangkok in a couple short days, into a world I still am confused by on a daily basis, I'm excited to see the possibility of similar consciousness raising to be catalyzed in their hearts, heads, and ultimately, lives back home.
Love, so much love bursting forth to you, world, spirit, lovers, friends, family, elephants and turtles...
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| hiking near Papallacta |
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| marine iguana hand |
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| flightless cormorant, blue footed booby and penguin! |
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| sally light food crab |
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| marine iguana |
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| our boat for 6 days |
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| sea lion and lava lizard |
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| Quito skyline by night |
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| Dad, Mom and I at the top of the telleferiquo in Quito |
Monday, April 13, 2015
Embodied Spirituality through Earth Stewardship
My learning continues. On this spiritual path I am walking, I am realizing how my passions for song, dance, gardening, cooking, eating, yoga, awakened consciousness and general environmental sustainability practices are so integrally connected.
I've often felt like two of the major interests I have in caring for the earth, and pursuing a spiritual path and practice are quite different from one another. My experiences here in Ecuador at Cancion del Corazon (where 'permaculture for the soul' is practiced) have opened me further to the understanding that being a land steward, is in fact, embodied spirituality.
Integral Awareness was one of the first topics that Phil broached with the group of interested Permaculture Caravan Canadians here in Ecuador back at the beginning of February. In his passionate way, forgetting all sense of time, Phil spoke of everything being an emanation of consciousness, everything being spirit. He showed us some amazing and inspiring diagrams that settled inside me, making so much sense. He expressed the connection between the Conscious self (i.e. thought) and the Unconscious/Subconscious (i.e. the soul, the belief system). Connection and communication can happen between the conscious and the subconscious soul. Linking into your Superconscious (i.e. essence! spirit, intuition, inner voice, enlightened higher self) needs to happen through your Subconscious self.
From what I have gathered, learned, realized and experienced, you can connect to your subconscious soul by being with, in, and connected deeply to nature. So, I believe that being in, stewarding, and paying close attention to the natural world can help us realize our Superconscious selves...furthering our spiritual connections with all.
I have trouble putting words to all this, but this is an attempt, thank you for reading.
In no order, I have a few more thoughts I want to share, that have been shared with me over recent weeks during my time working in the gardens and with foods to nourish our physical selves at Cancion del Corazon.
Everything is spirit, so everything is spirituality.
We (our physical bodies) are temples for divine spirit, we need to care for that divinity (with healthy habits).
When we are connected with the physical earth, when we have our hands in the soil, and when we understand the life that water grants us each day, we are connected with spirit.
Earth connection serves as a direct vehicle for our own wellness.
Stewarding the earth, connecting and healing the earth, are the main ways to walk a spiritual path. Being in nature, for so many people is a direct way to experience a deep state of awareness and meditation.
Caring for something, or someone, like the earth, or your sweetie, is a heart centered practice. Opening your heart to care for the earth is furthering your opening to a spiritual path.
I'm excited to be planning on returning to Cancion del Corazon to participate in the Yoga Teacher Training that they will be hosting this November. If you are interested in deepening your yoga practice, eating delicious organic garden fresh goodies each day, learning from credible teachers, and engaging in song, meditation and dance in a unique ecological environment, please do get in touch, I'd love for you to be my Sanga (you likely already are)!
I leave you with the lyrics to a song I learned in the past months....and I leave you with the invitation to steward whatever land you are close to, to experience nature, and the spirit that dwells within.
"We are a circle, within a circle,
With no beginning, and never ending.
Brother, sister, take my hand,
When we join together we will heal the land!"
I've often felt like two of the major interests I have in caring for the earth, and pursuing a spiritual path and practice are quite different from one another. My experiences here in Ecuador at Cancion del Corazon (where 'permaculture for the soul' is practiced) have opened me further to the understanding that being a land steward, is in fact, embodied spirituality.
Integral Awareness was one of the first topics that Phil broached with the group of interested Permaculture Caravan Canadians here in Ecuador back at the beginning of February. In his passionate way, forgetting all sense of time, Phil spoke of everything being an emanation of consciousness, everything being spirit. He showed us some amazing and inspiring diagrams that settled inside me, making so much sense. He expressed the connection between the Conscious self (i.e. thought) and the Unconscious/Subconscious (i.e. the soul, the belief system). Connection and communication can happen between the conscious and the subconscious soul. Linking into your Superconscious (i.e. essence! spirit, intuition, inner voice, enlightened higher self) needs to happen through your Subconscious self.
From what I have gathered, learned, realized and experienced, you can connect to your subconscious soul by being with, in, and connected deeply to nature. So, I believe that being in, stewarding, and paying close attention to the natural world can help us realize our Superconscious selves...furthering our spiritual connections with all.
I have trouble putting words to all this, but this is an attempt, thank you for reading.
In no order, I have a few more thoughts I want to share, that have been shared with me over recent weeks during my time working in the gardens and with foods to nourish our physical selves at Cancion del Corazon.
Everything is spirit, so everything is spirituality.
We (our physical bodies) are temples for divine spirit, we need to care for that divinity (with healthy habits).
When we are connected with the physical earth, when we have our hands in the soil, and when we understand the life that water grants us each day, we are connected with spirit.
Earth connection serves as a direct vehicle for our own wellness.
Stewarding the earth, connecting and healing the earth, are the main ways to walk a spiritual path. Being in nature, for so many people is a direct way to experience a deep state of awareness and meditation.
Caring for something, or someone, like the earth, or your sweetie, is a heart centered practice. Opening your heart to care for the earth is furthering your opening to a spiritual path.
I'm excited to be planning on returning to Cancion del Corazon to participate in the Yoga Teacher Training that they will be hosting this November. If you are interested in deepening your yoga practice, eating delicious organic garden fresh goodies each day, learning from credible teachers, and engaging in song, meditation and dance in a unique ecological environment, please do get in touch, I'd love for you to be my Sanga (you likely already are)!
I leave you with the lyrics to a song I learned in the past months....and I leave you with the invitation to steward whatever land you are close to, to experience nature, and the spirit that dwells within.
"We are a circle, within a circle,
With no beginning, and never ending.
Brother, sister, take my hand,
When we join together we will heal the land!"
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Mama Killa with other Andean adventures
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| Cotopaxi Landscape |
Speaking of discomforts, my digestive system ain't loving the flora of Ecuador this past couple weeks. Of course I will spare you the details, but on the positive end of things, I will say that my physical body was overjoyed with my recent jungle and waterfall 70km bike ride, that saw me seriously singing in the rain, and my 2 hour long paddle in the headwaters of an Amazonian river, over class 4 rapids. Oh joy, I love the forest, the river.
And I also love the moon. I've felt that ever since I was of 'adult' womanly age, I feel a pull, a draw, and an utter mysterious fascination with La Luna, the moon. This makes sense really, since every woman's menstrual 'moon' cycles can be intimately tied to the moon. So when I was in Cuenca, and was stopped by a scraggly looking young artist whom wanted to create a piece of jewelry for me, right in front of me, and I submitted, I was excited to hear why he announced how much he loved my name Kayla. He told me that in the north of Ecuador, where he spent some time with Quechua/Kichwa people (a pre-Incan Indigenous group spread out around the Andes mountains of South America), he learned about Mama Killa or Mama Quilla (pronounced the very same way as Kayla!) Mama Killa is Mother Moon. She is the goddess of lunar cycle, of marriage and of the menstrual cycle. She is considered the defender of women. I gratefully accepted the treble-clef shaped wire earring that this street artist from Venezuela made me, giving him a small offering of money, and smiling as I continued to walk on the river path. Not really because I had a beautiful piece of jewelry, but because my identity as 'Kayla' felt affirmed.
Other meaningful times I've had lately was a night spent out in the brisk-ness of mountain air. I spent a full day wandering, slowly hiking at altitude, and enjoying the insane views of Cotopaxi Volcano - the second highest in Ecuador at 5 897 meters. I camped the night with this giant, which is potentially active, but has not had a big eruption since 1942. It's so high, that even at this, the consistently warm equator, there are glaciers that hang off the side of this mountain, starting at 5 000 meters. I camped a bit lower, preferring to appreciate the majesty and power of this thing, this earth power, this intense giant from around 4200 meters, but still really grateful for a campfire, and 5 layers of clothing! Though the wind was intense, and the landscape quite harsh, I loved the strange beauty of what this park was all about. So oddly beautiful, with its low brushy bushes, single yellow and red flowers, wild horses, llamas, and cows...
It really is amazing how many new people from such a variety of places that I interact with when I am travelling. Like, the Kichwa woman who sells me a huge barbecued plantain for 50 cents on the street, to my absolute joy. Or the Senor who directs me by walking along with me to el Mercado, and then wishes me to be safe and careful on my journeys. Or the Aussies travelling for 8 months on their honeymoon. Or the woman my mother's age from the Netherlands who is a Reiki and Shiatsu healer, whom has no home and lives from her backpack, and who I end up hiking the stunning Quilatoa loop with for 4 days.
Speaking of said "Quilatoa loop". I think this has been the highlight of my ambling adventures around Ecuador (achem, with Vilcabamba a close rival). An area in the high central Andes, this area is popular for hiking and exploring, while it is home to many rural Kichwa farmers. I walked from the Quilatoa crater, to Chugchilan, to Inislivi and then to Sigchos. In all of these towns, very small (around 2oo people for the first three towns mentioned), I experienced an enormity of Ecuadorian hospitality. This hospitality was a window in to Kichwa life. The family's that had small hostels or posadas, warmly welcomed me, and my older hiking partner, fed us delicious dinners and breakfasts, pointed us in the right directions on the maze that was our journey, and shared with us a bit of what their lives were like in this rural, high Andean mountain countryside. I amazingly received no funny looks when I exclaimed "yo no como carne, y tambien, yo no como pan..." and instead was fed delicious 'bolon de verde', 'huevos omlettes' with generous portions of beet, avacado, lettuce salads, and always always delicious soups (think - cream of cauliflower, the iconic Andean quinoa potato soup, warm and nourishing after a sweaty, but chilly mountain hike in these parts).
And the hiking was beautiful, challenging and fun. It was definitely a human altered landscape, with patches of light and dark green covering the steep mountainside, with dots of colour visible on these slopes as they hand hoed their vegetables. Usually, my inclination is that I don't find anything that is extremely human altered beautiful, for example I don't often find city scapes beautiful. They may be captivating, and stunning, but beauty I feel is a thing left for the natural, for Pachamama to create. But this, somehow this landscape I found quite beautiful. Partially, I believe it was so beautiful because there were mostly no visible roads, as everyone whose home was on these mountainsides traversed by foot or by horseback. It was beautiful because we meandered up and down gorgeous river valleys, through tiny towns with colourful churches and tiny schools, visible in valleys from high above. We tramped on pathways only farmers take, got confused as to which fork to continue on a hundred times, and nearly got eaten by farm dogs only twice. The sky was mostly overcast, but I still got a sunburn because of the elevation. There were warm wood stoves that waited for us, and hammocks to swing in at the posadas we stayed at. There were many old farmers who we crossed paths with, looking curiously at us, but energetically pointing us in the correct direction...as they continued on their way to hoe their crop, or move their sheep from patch to patch. I could go on...
As I mentioned before, it's amazing how many people you meet while you are travelling. Some are uber interesting, others have a poor sense of respect. Some people enter an open heart quickly, touching me deeply. Others I pass judgement on and others make me miss my sisters, parents, friends. Some couples I meet see me craving consistent companionship - in travel and in life. This woman that I hiked the Quilatoa loop with, was mistaken for my mother more then 3 times. This made me dream of my mother. I reflected (again) that I am spending so much time while I am travelling investing in brand new relationships and encounters, rather then with those that I already have in my life with deep connections. A few insights arise for me with regards to this. The first is that these people I'm encountering while travelling are currently desiring the very same thing as me, while my family and friends don't desire that very same thing - perhaps it's just bad luck or bad timing? Another insight. Every person, whether nice or not so nice, special or a casual small talk conversation, usually results in me learning, or realizing, something about this world or about myself. A third insight. While I meet all these people, I'm still alone. I need to know what it is to be alone so that I can in turn realize the interconnectedness of all people. I live alone, yes, but I need people, community, to thrive. When I meet these people, they are all representations of those I hold near to my heart. Were all the same. all just trying to follow our paths in this life.
If you haven't already felt it through my last words, I miss you. In an it's okay kind of way, I miss you.
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| Quilatoa Volcanic Crater - at the beginning of my Andean trek |
Friday, March 6, 2015
Water Water Everywhere
What a precious resource water is.
We all know this, in theory. But in practice, do we treat water with the respect it deserves? After all...we are mostly water. Honestly, I have taken water for granted so much in my life. Growing up in the Great Lakes Basin, before I began my travels abroad, I took water for Granted. I was used to seeing freshwater lakes that looked like oceans, accustomed to water magically appearing, clean for the drinking, out of a sparkly metal faucet, and never thought twice about putting my human waste in fresh drinking water flushing it to an unknown place.
And then, I began to travel. And I learn and see how fresh water is valued or not valued in other countries. How in most places, water does not appear from a tap ready to drink, and often doesn't even appear from a tap. In the place where I am at the moment, Ecuador, water concerns are far more talked about, far more important, and far more controlled by the people.
I recently stayed for 3 weeks in a valley which at moments is lush green, at other moments dry and de-forested to make room for grazing cows. There is an abundance of naturally flowing rivers, where you can comfortably dunk yourself in the frigid and fresh mountain fed waters, invigorating your every cell. Because there is less development in the mountains near the Vilcabamba Valley, and the Podocarpus National Park is near by, the headwaters of local rivers are clean - they haven't yet had an opportunity to be tainted by human impacts.
The people in this valley are hyper aware of their water. This is largely because the water systems that they have running to their homes, is entirely owned by a collective community co-op. This model intrigues me, because all of the members have a strong stake in how their system is designed, how the water is treated (or not treated) and they also assume the responsibility when water lines are broken (as nearly all the lines are above ground and there are also some aerial runs). The water that I was drinking and bathing in while I was at my friends farm in Vilcabamba was a part of this collective system. This system serves both drinking water (filtered by a physical filtration system only, meaning that no chemicals like fluoride or chlorine are added to the water) and agricultural irrigation water (which is more turbid, filled with fine particulate), gets water to about 300 people. Every few months there are community meetings, where members must attend, otherwise are fined. They have one employee who walks the 11km stretch of pipeline, to ensure that it is in fine shape. Often, when it rains heavily, landslides are common, and water lines can get broken. In Ecuador, repairing these line breaks take time. Sometimes, this can mean days, or weeks without water, while the one employee along with other volunteers, hike out to the location of the break, with tools and repair materials in tow, to fix the stretch of pipe that holds life for so many.
I feel like the people on this collective water system are more aware of their life-need for water. More aware about how much they use, because, sometimes for weeks, they have no water but the 1000 liters in their cistern (if they even have a cistern). Otherwise it's a hike to the river and a potential sick stomach. I really believe that (generally-but not for all) there is a disconnect in Canada and the United States. We tend not to have any concept of what it takes to get water clean to us, think nothing of putting all sorts of weird wastes in our water, and further, have no control over what chemicals local governments choose to 'treat' our drinking water with.
When I'm in travel mode, carrying my trusty UV filter with me, I am so much more mindful of the water I consumer and the way it makes me feel.
Today, when you sip that sip of fresh water, no matter if you are Ecuador, in Canada, in a remote African village, or the Cambodian countryside, take a moment to be grateful for it, and consider ways that you too, can be conscious of the water you use, consume, pollute, play in, and ultimately, are composed of.
We all know this, in theory. But in practice, do we treat water with the respect it deserves? After all...we are mostly water. Honestly, I have taken water for granted so much in my life. Growing up in the Great Lakes Basin, before I began my travels abroad, I took water for Granted. I was used to seeing freshwater lakes that looked like oceans, accustomed to water magically appearing, clean for the drinking, out of a sparkly metal faucet, and never thought twice about putting my human waste in fresh drinking water flushing it to an unknown place.
And then, I began to travel. And I learn and see how fresh water is valued or not valued in other countries. How in most places, water does not appear from a tap ready to drink, and often doesn't even appear from a tap. In the place where I am at the moment, Ecuador, water concerns are far more talked about, far more important, and far more controlled by the people.
I recently stayed for 3 weeks in a valley which at moments is lush green, at other moments dry and de-forested to make room for grazing cows. There is an abundance of naturally flowing rivers, where you can comfortably dunk yourself in the frigid and fresh mountain fed waters, invigorating your every cell. Because there is less development in the mountains near the Vilcabamba Valley, and the Podocarpus National Park is near by, the headwaters of local rivers are clean - they haven't yet had an opportunity to be tainted by human impacts.
The people in this valley are hyper aware of their water. This is largely because the water systems that they have running to their homes, is entirely owned by a collective community co-op. This model intrigues me, because all of the members have a strong stake in how their system is designed, how the water is treated (or not treated) and they also assume the responsibility when water lines are broken (as nearly all the lines are above ground and there are also some aerial runs). The water that I was drinking and bathing in while I was at my friends farm in Vilcabamba was a part of this collective system. This system serves both drinking water (filtered by a physical filtration system only, meaning that no chemicals like fluoride or chlorine are added to the water) and agricultural irrigation water (which is more turbid, filled with fine particulate), gets water to about 300 people. Every few months there are community meetings, where members must attend, otherwise are fined. They have one employee who walks the 11km stretch of pipeline, to ensure that it is in fine shape. Often, when it rains heavily, landslides are common, and water lines can get broken. In Ecuador, repairing these line breaks take time. Sometimes, this can mean days, or weeks without water, while the one employee along with other volunteers, hike out to the location of the break, with tools and repair materials in tow, to fix the stretch of pipe that holds life for so many.
I feel like the people on this collective water system are more aware of their life-need for water. More aware about how much they use, because, sometimes for weeks, they have no water but the 1000 liters in their cistern (if they even have a cistern). Otherwise it's a hike to the river and a potential sick stomach. I really believe that (generally-but not for all) there is a disconnect in Canada and the United States. We tend not to have any concept of what it takes to get water clean to us, think nothing of putting all sorts of weird wastes in our water, and further, have no control over what chemicals local governments choose to 'treat' our drinking water with.
When I'm in travel mode, carrying my trusty UV filter with me, I am so much more mindful of the water I consumer and the way it makes me feel.
Today, when you sip that sip of fresh water, no matter if you are Ecuador, in Canada, in a remote African village, or the Cambodian countryside, take a moment to be grateful for it, and consider ways that you too, can be conscious of the water you use, consume, pollute, play in, and ultimately, are composed of.
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