First thoughts from this Malay foray

James and I at the bungalow, enjoying some Chinese food

The Beautiful sky in the Cameron Highlands

Feeling full--of gas. Asia as arrived in my belly; an all too familiar feeling from time here in the past. And I'm also full of other things. I'm full of emotion and full of love and full of physical warmth. 

It was a big lead up. Months in fact. I can't even recall when James and I came up with the idea to go on this large journey together. I do recall it feeling a bit early on in our relating to be making commitments to multi month adventures in far off places. But here I am in a very white room, with a strange pink quilt on a hard bed in an old English Tudor style bungalow, in the middle of the Malaysian highland jungle. The months of anticipating the journey have passed. And as we suspected, James and my connection has deepened as we live a sweet life of blessings and challenges in Victoria. Here we are on an epic journey with one another. One where we anticipated comfort zones being leapt  out of and where visits to places of our past may bring up some things to be processed...

Since arriving bleary eyed in Singapore after 30 some odd hours of travel (complete with an interesting cruise around Tokyo, our flight stop over spot), we have already seen lots of sights, cried some salty cathartic tears, felt various states of nausea, ate some tasty street food, and sunburned our noses. That was just 5 days ago that we arrived in Singapore! 

We had a couple solid days of exploring the freakishly futuristic megalopolis of Singapore, visiting the homes that James partially grew up in (on bicycle!) wandering strange and lush urban gardens, gawking at floating soccer fields, bizarrely tall skyscrapers, merlion statues, and highly skilled chefs working the wok. We were welcomed warmly by cousins of our friends, whose hospitality was ease-fully provided and gratefully received. We cruised the light rail transit in Singapore and then later in Kuala Lumpur confused by the reasons why many North American cities don't seem to have their act together when it comes to getting light rail operating. It works so well! And is totally used by the masses when it serves the widest area and is kept clean and functional...maybe the $40000 Singaporean tax on just registering a car also helps keep people on transit?!?

I digress. Yep we liked the public transit. We also found our bike butt callouses handy during our two days of long bus rides. 

Now here we are in the Cameron highlands. A landscape that was so formative for James, as he spent most of the first 10 years of his life between Singapore and these highland areas, where tourism and tea growing seem to reign supreme. We're staying at a big English style bungalow that once housed James' family of 9 at Christmas time. 

We had a silly bush wackin walk in the jungle today, one that I think we will continue tomorrow. Onwards the trip down nostalgia lame will continue, as we shift to Chefoo-the boarding school where James spent grades 1-4. 

The air is cooler here then in the lower regions of Malaysia, which makes it a great zone for food crops that require coolness by night. Tea plantations were set up here by the English colonizers and so it carries on as rolling hills of once jungle are cultivated for tea growing. 

I love tea. And often feel like the green and black varieties that I enjoy are disconnected from my localized world view. In Myanmar, I really enjoyed meeting the real live tea plant and witnessing the tea processing. I look forward to exploring the Malaysian ways of tea growing tomorrow, after a big hike up to mount brinchang on the day of my 31st birthday. 

Pain and Connection

The 'mysterical' Oregon Coast

Summertime. The season that lifts my energy high, with seemingly endless sunlight, garden abundance, camping adventures, un-refuseable social gatherings; in my experience, I feel full and expansive in summer.

This summer has been a different one then what I've grown to expect in summers past (there's a lesson in releasing expectations in it for sure.) My summer months have been blanketed with the veil of familial pain. Real life shit. You have some of that in your own world too? We all do, and sometimes in that knowledge, I feel a small bit of comfort. In knowing that pain and suffering is part of the human experience. And while we all have our ways of processing, healing, or not healing that pain and suffering, I'm trying to discover the best way to do that, the way that makes most sense in my experience of this universe. I'm trying to feel all the pain, concern, worry, the anger, guilt, shame, and I'm really trying to not judge myself or my family. Trying. And so through that muddled path that life has past me, I'm swimming. Head above the life blood, I'm treading, slowly moving somewhere.

I've felt some real gratitude these past weeks. For the closeness of my immediate family, despite current and past challenges. The willingness of those blood relatives to bond together even though it seems that it would be wildly easier to ignore, leave, depart from all the challenges. I'm grateful that I have a community of people in Victoria whom I can speak openly to about mental health, whom make me feel normal in my experience and who leave judgement out of their story line. Remembering Kayla ten years ago, I wasn't in that type of community. And if I'm wrong and I was in that type of safe community, perhaps I was just a younger version of myself, unaware of common human experience, told a story by society that certain things are to remain private, that only I experience such things, and no one else would understand...

I'm glad that I have a community and a partner and a self awareness that allows me to be comforted in sharing the crappy parts of life, without fear that the sad or overwhelmed piece of myself will not be accepted, and that my most frequent disposition of joy, is paired with other states of being. And that's okay.
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Connection-a word I included in the title of this blog because I've felt connected in so many ways over these past months and especially over these past couple weeks. This connection has been varied: connection with my partner, connection with my garden, a symbol of the intricacies of life, connection to my siblings, connection to the Victoria dance community, connection to humans, to those struggling with transitions and mental health, connection to the divine source that glows or wants to glow, in each living being.

There are few experiences in life that are more special then connecting deeply with a romantic life partner. I feel so excited, so grateful that I have one of those connections continuing to blossom in my world. 

I've just experienced a very long extended date with my sweetie James. This, dear readers, is a type of connection I don't recall ever writing about in the history of Aurora Renews! I have had some very unique, intimate, and special connections with others in past, and I cherish those with such respect and honour. And now, I'm walking down a path of partnership with a dear man named James. And there is no better way to experiment with the potential strength of a relationship such as this then to go on a two week pedal powered adventure - where physical, mental and relational challenges abound!

Yep! Poppy has a new touring buddie!

Inspired by an interest to pedal to a yoga and music festival in the forest of Oregon, and experience an unusually full solar eclipse, we decided to bus, bike, ferry and train our bodies and gear to Cannon Beach, Oregon. Before even reaching Portland, our launch place, the first challenge arose. It arose in the form of a massive mangled framing square. Imagine: a piece of unique blue solid metal 'art', half a centimeter thick, placed so perfectly in my path on the side of a highway in Washington, as my cycling pal and I were pedaling our butts off, breakfast-less, in the wee hours of the misty morning. Without falling from my bike, I was ground to a halt as that blue 'art' work, incredibly mangled by bigger vehicles running it over, lodged itself into Poppy's derailleur and spokes. With an all to wobbly wheel, and a seriously bent derailleur, I managed to peddle to the train station, in Mount Vernon, Washington, concern growing like a mountain, that this had ruined all of our plans.

Luckily, I had James along with his problem solving practicality in tow, and his gluten free doughnut muffin procuring prowess. Fewf! Not all was lost! Sugar in my veins! Calls made to Portland bike shops...and Voila, Sunday night, we found the nice folks at Seven Corners Bicycle Shop, and Corey fixed Poppy all up real good. 

The journey was meant to continue. An early road block, feeling like an ending in my (over reactive) brain, was just a wee test for a couple attempting to journey together on a trip of adventure yes, and also, of connection. 

The connecting went on. We pedaled our way along the mysterical (made that word up accidentally and love it, mysterious and magical all rolled into one) Oregon Coast, with it's phenomenally wide and sandy beaches (were talking vertigo inducing, confusing sand dunes with numbered signs to prevent folks from losing themselves...like letters in those big airport parking lots). We camped at state parks, wandered on endless beaches, laughed over camp stove dinners...

Next, it was time to head inland to the Beloved Festival. The best way to describe this festival is beauty. Loving touches of poetry, art and nature spread through the forest in which the festival was set. Reusable bamboo dishes, composting toilets, nature mandalas and mossy nature relaxation nooks with gorgeous altars of intricate nature artwork. There was a magic fairy pond, lit up creatively at night, a roster of beautiful world music, all night Kirtan, and conscious electronic music to dance to. The yoga pavilion in the forest captivated much of my attention as I ecstatic danced, practiced yoga alongside famous teachers and singers, and bathed in healing sound.

Soon it came time to ride on, and pedal on we did...down the steep hill we had struggled up, stopping to top containers up with blackberries on our descent. We cruised into Corvallis, staying with a lovely bicycle passionate couple, and being entirely amazed by the extent of the Corvallis Food Co-op. In fact, I've been impressed by Portland's Food Co-op, Newport's Food Co-op too. Picture this: extensive bulk selection, that makes a sustainability nut like me, stoked. Fill your own re-usable containers with everything from kimchi to frozen peas, apple cider vinegar to fresh ground flour, capers to mayonnaise, bocconcini to tofu. All in bulk! It was a dreamy place - a full service grocery store, with reasonable prices, focus on local products and conscious thought around which products they carry. They make it easy to choose package free foods, had a hot food bar, as well as cold salad bar, and it was all cooperatively owned by community members in the town. It left me curious - why does Victoria, BC, not have a food co-op like this?! Surprised and disappointed, I'm how I could help make this happen, and what's happened before, in Victoria. 

After a few more campy nights in the warm Willamette Valley, cycling through mono-culture big agriculture, cooking ourselves good food, drinking good drinks, having great laughs, watching the ups and downs of the blood sugar coursing through our veins, sometimes in uneven proportion (!) we arrived in Portland. Feeling ever more connected to this person, with whom I'd never gone on a long bicycle trip, I was pleased. Happy, that even after some hard days of riding, some ups and downs of decision making and energy, little conflicts arising, and being dealt with...our connection was growing, getting stronger, solidifying. 

And Oh Portland! How you never disappoint. I hadn't been to Portland since 2011, which you can read about here. I keep sharing with folks that ask about how we had "such a Portland time in Portland". Here are some summary words to get you visualizing what I mean: Taco food trucks, amazing bicycle infrastructure bonanza, collective house living, yoga, Cascadia gluten free bakery (delicious is the understatement of the year), picnics in the park with cello and sitar in the air, co-op bath house visits for sauna and hot tub time, farmers markets, soap box derby, local cider tastings, live music, City Repair projects, meeting James' long time friends, streets closed for day long active bike-y park enjoying festivals. The list could go on. We had a super fun, jam packed, activity filled weekend in Portland. And it was all topped off by a solar eclipse that had been talked about for months by Oregonians...and was truly a special experience. In Portland, the sun was 99.6% covered by our moon. We saw the sky go dark, the strange shadows cast on the garden, the moon seeming to eat up the sun like it was a cookie treat, through our fancy glasses. 

To celebrate the eclipse, James and I cooked up a big pancake breakfast for three of our lovely host friends. We ate pancakes topped with local peaches and maple syrup on the porch with eclipse glasses on as the sunlight faded. In the strangest way, we observed the crows begin to think it was their evening roosting time, the foliage cast crescent moon shadows on our skin. And at the time of 99.6% coverage, we observed indescribable dancing shadows that appeared on the road, as we stood sidewalk side excitedly experiencing the dimming light.

As eclipses can be a time of manifestation, our breakfast crew took a good pause to speak aloud intentions that we had. Things we wanted to see play out in our lives, in this world. I spoke aloud my desire for harmony and peace. Among the hearts of my family, among the souls that are oppressed in the US and everywhere. Harmony and Peace. I pray for that, I hope for that, I want to manifest that. At eclipse time and every time...Harmony and Peace. 

Summer flows on. This rich warm time of year continues. I'm grateful for my community in Victoria, for the continuing growth of my partnership. I'm so grateful for visits from friends from Ontario, and continuing connections with folks who feel like home in a province that no longer does. I'm grateful for the beautiful food I get to cook each day. I'm grateful for my body that is able to carry me so far on bicycle. Grateful for my ability to cross borders and move freely in this world without discrimination. I'm grateful that my family bond still exists. I am grateful to be alive. 

Lovely food at the beautiful Beloved

Eclipse gazers at breakfast!

Blueberry mint gluten free pie at Cascadia in Portland

Bicycle buddies unite!

Redefining freedom

December snow on Vancouver Island! Here's me loving up an arbutus in the Sooke Hills

I wonder just how many times I have written on this blog on the theme of transition. 

Here we go again. 

It's December, and it was the first morning, since I moved here to Victoria last January, that I saw the lush green grass in my yard, and the moss and ferns on my running route through Gary Oak ecosystems, completely wrapped in a wet soggy blanket of frozen water, that had arrived over the course of the night time. Snow! Snow in Victoria! It can happen.  

And it's another sign, another symbol, that time is passing. The season is advancing, days getting shorter, crises arising, world consciousness shifting, and life transitions continue...

I'm about to turn 30. 

Over the past months, I've reflected about this passing into a different decade. There are a couple remarkable things that I recognize about what has come and past, and what is present, and ultimately, how the future could unfold. 

My twenties have been so fantastic. These past ten identity shaping years have been full of many things that have prompted a whole heap of growth. I completed a university degree, cycled my heart out in so many places. Experienced transformation in a mobile sustainable community, and worked Toronto for 'the man'. I ran away to ride bicycles, and work on many farms. The adventures continued in Ottawa, Australia, Asia, Latin America. My heart opened to intimate connection, and to the spirit world. I practiced yoga, I played, I experimented, I chanted. In my twenties, I lived.  

Arriving here in Victoria, nearly one year ago, when I was freshly 29, and also living my 30th year, I was so ready. I was ready to choose a place, and to develop a sense of place. When I landed here, on this island, this place in the world, that feels so much like my home place, I landed hard. So, while the transition into my thirties officially happens on the 16th of this month, the transition is fully under way. This past year, I've felt more at home and satisfied with steady, meaningful work, with a garden to steward, and a consistent home to unravel myself in. Having created the fertile ground for partnership during my twenties, I was amazed to notice that (unlike ever before) I began actively inviting in partnership. These patterns of satisfaction, of actually being able to envision myself in a place for longer then a year (I still can't believe that shift as I type it) was totally out of the realm of possibility throughout my twenties. Live somewhere longer then a year? AHH! No way!! In my passionate, adventuresome, independent, curious, energetic, Sagitarian way, I needed to know my next move, where I was going next, when the end date was of the current adventure I was on. My twenties have been a wild ride. Full of such awe inspiration, such interesting experiences in far off places, such dark nights of the soul, such euphoric nature inspired ecstasy...

And through all that movement, I believe that unconsciously, my ability to be grateful for the present moment grew. Which brings me to these past months. In my 3oth year, I feel great about being in one home. I feel great about exploring and adventuring on this island, discovering all the nooks and crannies that this wild place has on offer for me to gently frolic through. All the depth and possibility that these people here in Victoria have for community connection.  I feel enthusiastic about developing my own sense of place in this new home. I feel called to be present. I'm calling in community, I'm calling in nourishment, love, and flow, all here, in one place. Victoria, British Columbia. 

Throughout my adventures these past years, a learning I continually felt naturally arising is that of gratitude. I've learned to be grateful when I was stranded with a mega bike problem at the side of a busy highway in Northern California, the dark creeping in, soaked to the bone and praying I would be warm again.  When my father helped me time and time again to move my things, my bicycles, to deliver me to bus stations, airports. When I sat, surrounded by steady voices chanting Taize, in a yoga sanctuary set in lush tropical gardens in Southern Ecuador, tears streaming down my face. As I continue to see the world, in all it's glory and it's utter and complete misery for so many people, I turn to gratitude, with a fair amount of trust and activism...  I learned gratitude and still experience it when I reflect on all the people who have shaped me during these past ten formative years. My people in Ottawa, my people in Toronto. My people in Waterloo, in Australia, in Mildmay. My people in Montreal and in Vilcabamba, my people in Cambodia. My people in Halifax, and in Kitchener. My people dotted all over the world. My people in British Columbia. Beloveds, lovers, chosen family, friends, partners, mothers, fathers. Relatives, relations, ancestors. I love you. 

Relationships to people, to places, to the nature, to spirit; deep relationships, long lasting relations, short intimate ones, relationships that are every evolving and growing...some have been difficult, some so sweet. They have been so nourishing, supportive and energy gifting..

Thank you, yes you. You who has contributed to the woman I'm feeling happy to be, as I ready myself, so ripe with fullness and energy, to burst through into my thirties. 

There's been one more thing that I have been extremely grateful for during my past ten years: Freedom.

A privilege I acknowledge has been offered to me largely by the system in which I play a part, perhaps at the cost of someone else's freedom...it has been my greatest treasure in my twenties. I didn't originally associate freedom with a fixed address and stable work, but I'm now exploring how freedom can take a variety of forms. In my thirties, I'm redefining what it means to be free. 

Here we go! 

Berries and lettuce, fear and hope

Life, it's just so abundant.

Abundant with red juicy, crispy bing cherries. With new found fruits like goumi berries, which not only taste like a smooth and astringent gummy bear, but that provide the magical service to gardeners and the living breathing soil, whereby these plants transform gaseous nitrogen into nutrients that other plants can eat up from the soil. And it's pretty! The plant bushes out slightly, and the droopy berries have gorgeous gold-brown speckles lightly painted in their surface. Oh the goumi! How I love that you have come into my world! Then there's the thimble berry. Can I make love to one more berry before carrying on? The thimbleberry is delicate - like the most tender skin on your body, it's delicate. And because the berry is so soft (bleeding crimson red juice on your fingers even when you ever so carefully pluck the berry away from it's core) it's not often cultivated. This is a berry you can only grow yourself or find in the wild, it's a special one you won't find in the grocery stores. So grateful I am that roommates who have come before me have planted out this self propagating beauty of a bush, so that each morning for the past week, I have enjoyed just 2 or 3 of these creamy, delicate, vibrant berries before anything else enters my body... The texture reminds me of a sweet pie filling, the seeds so tiny, you hardly notice them. They don't explode with juice, rather they are creamy with a viscous liquid. And their flavour is not dissimilar to flower - ey sweet instant jam. 

The public spaces here in Victoria, and also those discovered on my recent adventures to Salt Spring Island and Vancouver are abundant with gifts from Pachamama as well. With boulevard gardening prevalent, community orchards bearing fruit free for the enjoying, community gardens, permaculture commons, and folks living in giant collective homes, the abundance of available garden fun and community gathering around this garden fun, is just so inspiring. The batch of gooseberry raspberry jam I made recently would just not exist if it weren't for the combined labours of Pachamama and community members at large tending to and caring for these fruit bearing beauties. 

I'm so grateful to have yard space with so many previously established delicacies and plants of plenty. My efforts here in the garden are all a total experiment. I've learned that the weather patterns on this island are certainly quite different then in Ontario, where much of my gardening experience has been learned. Rather then the sweaty, fast, sultry summer days of a classic Ontario summer, the days here, around the summer solstice are chillier and drier, but with so much daylight. The learning is so worth the figs and goji berries that can grow here, and the brilliant amount of leafy greens that you can grow all winter long! Oh, the thrill. I'm learning what is not growing where, what is prolific elsewhere. I'm confused as to the lack of blossoms on my peas, and am amazed at the slug power. My tomatoes don't seem to be loving their buckets, and beans are strugglin! But the lettuces are delicate and delicious, the tomatillos are fruiting :)  All an experiment I tell ya...

And my comments about abundance extend so much so to the abundance of lovely people in my life at the moment. While I find myself missing my friends in Ontario, and I know fewer people here then Ottawa or Toronto, I also love the people that have come into my world recently. My dear roommates are so super sweet, they are mindful, respectful, share common interests, and are generally such a pleasure and privilege to share space with. I'm so grateful for a safe, enjoyable living space! And then there's the other folks I've met, some just with brief exchanges, others where intimacy and connection arrived quickly. People like the super nice lady at the local health food shop in my neighbourhood. Or the 40 some odd folks I see on the regular at my weekly dance jam. While my experience with them lasts just 2 hours each week, often with no language exchanged, I feel connected with them in a unique and spiritual way. My new neighbours. The introductions to friends of friends. My colleagues at the Compost Education Centre are a true drama free pleasure. The out of town visitors I've had in recent months: kindergarten friends, uncles, sisters, fathers, cousins, brother in laws...the list goes on and on, with so many that go unmentioned here - beautiful connections that grace my world, as I begin the journey of building my community, my family, here in this new town I have come to call home...

And while the abundance flows here in my writing, know that I write today from a place of hope and joy and happiness, but that certainly, on other days there's a different story that I may be telling myself. Negative self talk, loneliness, longing, dissatisfaction, pity, sorrow, grief, I have moments of these emotions. In a world where guns, racism, refugee crises, climate crises are in an awful abundance - I can feel that pain and grief in my soul...and I'm sometimes scared for our collective future. And I feel vulnerable even writing that here (for you, my audience that is impossible to know) telling you, that I, a person with a positive disposition in life, experiences such low moments.  Luckily, these moments are stories. And as soon as we turn things into a story, it can't control us anymore. And I can choose to rewrite stories, and heal with these new stories...

As the days flow by, I want to be grateful for each moment. For the moments of emotion, of pleasure of discomfort. Just be grateful. It's hard, but so so worth it. 

Happy solstice beauties! Happy full moon solstice!   

Sweet camping spot beside the ocean on Salt Spring Island

A Thimble Berry!

A little view of some of the garden Jungle :) 

'Peaceful' Soil

Without soil there would be no food. Without food, there would be no humans.

It’s kind of like…we eat soil. Say whhhat? No, were not practicing Geophagia, the act of physically consuming soil. But the reality is that everything in nature is connected. So the plants that we eat from our gardens are the soil, as they are the air, and they are the water that we feed them. You can’t have food without these essential elemental essences. The nutrients in the soil are transformed through cell reproduction during plant growth. The plant provides us delicious food that we consume, and then further transforms through metabolic processes into energy for our physical daily functioning. So, we eat soil. Right?

Okay, that may be a stretch, but let’s agree that soil is important. It’s as important to us as that apple is important to us, on a day when you didn't make time to eat breakfast; you’ve had a busy morning, and your feeling so hungry, maybe even hangry (i.e. that state of feeling anger because, well, you’re darn hungry!) Without that soil, you’d have no apple to quiet the growl in your belly. As much as soil is important, the stewardship of soil is important too. I’ve spent some time facilitating groups of young people, conversing about and teaching lessons about environmental sustainability, gardening, social justice…and I’ve learned that young people are the future. Okay, I know, it’s obvious, cliche, kids are the future, blah blah blah, what’s new. But some concepts are cliche for a reason. They’re true. Young people will grow up. They will continue to need nutritious food well into their older days. Well nourished people are happier, healthier and live a higher quality of life (source: a million peer reviewed journal articles, just search google scholar). And folks that are happier and healthier, tend to led a more sustainable life, helping out our precious mother earth, and they create less conflict in their communities and in their countries, potentially keeping wars out of reach... We end up with more peace and harmony. (Source: my brain, but I’m sure you could find more journal articles on these types of conclusions…) This peace and harmony, all because of healthy soil.

So here here for teaching young people about soils. And bring on that peace and harmony. The world could use more healthy soil…achem…more peace. 

I'm pretty interested in high quality soil. And I know (so do the journal articles) that high quality soils start with good quality compost, and young people are the future, so teaching young folks about soils is all too important. Learn more about how the Compost Education Centre is involved with youth education, and learn how to grow your soil at www.compost.bc.ca

Here's me and some eager preschoolers separating Red Wiggler worms from their nutrient rich castings, after talking about what how and why we compost , meeting my puppet friends, and singing some songs!

Roots go down, life goes up*

a photo of the cherry blossoms on Feb 16

Roots go down, life goes up*. 

Like a plant, I'm happy. I'm sure as the daylight lengthens by a couple minutes each day, plants become happier, more awake, more alive. Not that they weren't still alive and satisfied during the winter, they were just, slower, quieter, more concerned with conserving energy then putting it out into the world. 

I feel like a plant in spring, bursting upward for the sun. And like a plant worries of a late spring frost, I too feel like I have to worry-worry that it's not real, and so after a very short moment of concern, I pinch myself. Sometimes rhetorically, other times quite physically. Because life, is, so, good. 

I write to you, dear reader, from the west coast. From my new home on Vancouver island! As many of you surely know, after an eclectic and amazing 20 months of travel, I've been craving the stability of a physical sense of place. After a more-intuitive-then-anything-else type of decision, I made the leap and moved to Vancouver Isand; a two hour ferry ride away from Vancouver and mainland Canada. I now live on the ocean! I'm surrounded by water! 

The leap westward, where I've got a smaller community, less connections work and organizationally, felt quite natural in some regard, as I felt intuitively like it'd be a great place to live, but then also there is an element of risk that comes along with such a shift. Not knowing the ins and outs of a community can limit your ability to offer insightful contributions to an organization. But with confidence, I spent hours on a few versions of my resume. I spent hours emailing everyone I knew who are or were tightly, or rightly aquatinted with the people, homes and organizations on the Island. 

I hopefully applied for a position at the Compost Education Centre, but was being realistic with the fact that Victoria is home to many other passionate environmental educators who are keen on all things food and localism and sustainability. And I was also realistic with the fact that the position sounded awesome, and I felt capable and qualified. Turns out all these things are true, and I'm now entering my fourth week of work as the Education Coordinator at the Compost Education Centre. It's a rad organization that I had met on an Otesha Tour a few years back, and is prominent in the local scene of programming for young students and adults alike, mostly around composting, growing good soil, and in turn, growing good food. My position involves liaising with teachers, and riding a bike and trailer around to schools, facilitating workshops about vermi-compositing (worms!) and basic soil science. It's a hoot, and I get to talk with puppets like Corey (a giant apple core, the greens in your compost) and Brownie (a giant leaf, the browns component in your compost), show kids red wriggler worms, and help set up vermi-compost systems in school classrooms. I'm soooo excited to have the role, and it feels great, natural, and I get to work every day in both schools and at a beautiful demonstration garden site in the heart of a nifty neighbourhood in Victoria. I feel so lucky and privileged and overall - stoked!

I've already experienced so many moments since being here where I have whooped while biking a beautiful borrowed bicycle across town, acknowledging that I'm so happy to be here, that I'm happy to have chosen to settle in somewhere for a while. I've got a beautiful home to move into at the beginning of April too, and so my gratitude extends...

The universe is definitely affirming that this was a good decision at this point in time for me. It at moments feels surreal, I have momentary flashes where I consider I may need to pinch myself, or where I feel as though something negative might happen, however, I have the wisdom to acknowledge that actually...I've done things up until now in my life that have led to this situation arising. Yes, I was born into privilege that has contributed to my current situation as well. But also, I've created this reality. I've called it in, requested it, worked for it, and it feels great...

My new home has a giant garden, so expect to see some upcoming posts about plants and soil and vegetables...there's a whole new climate here for me to learn in the garden sphere. I can garden through the winter. Whatttt?! Amazing. Another reason why I am excited to explore life here in Victoria. And there's so much dancing to do here on the ocean, in community centres, in churches! And it certainly is a yoga town. Oh and I've started pottery classes! And am looking for some Spanish lessons, and trying to make friends who I can go on epic camping, biking and hiking adventures with :) Here here to settled life! 

Please come visit me out here. I'd love to have you. 

(*This phrase was inspired by a recent lyric I heard at the show West My Friend, a fun, folky band from Victoria)

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The following is a little excerpt from a blog I wrote and then didn't publish back in the middle of February, after I'd been here in Victoria for 2 weeks complete with an ode to my parents, and some processing about my adventures of the past two years.
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I've arrived back in Canada. In fact, I arrived at the end of January, to Toronto Ontario.

My amazing Dad took some time off work to drive into Toronto to pick me up from my months of adventures, and after a quick embrace, we picked up where we left off a number of months before with our relaxed and casual conversation.

I need to share with the world: My parents are awesome. 

As humans grow into adults, relationships naturally morph between parent and son/daughter. Your no longer a kid who needs care and support, you are an adult who can potentially meet your parent on the same level, all being capable of the same money making, same self care, same cooking and domestic abilities. And so, you become friends. Of course there is always going to be a difference between a parent/offspring friendship then any other relationship. Parents were in fact responsible for most all of the patterning you currently love or hate, for better or for worse. And, I've been through enough self evaluative and reflective times and spaces to realize that I now, as an adult, have the power and ability to take some of those patterns, and leave others in the dust. But can I rave for a minute? My parents are sweet and loving, super energetic, honest, and uber generous people. They have shown me so much love and support over the years. Sure we've had our challenges, I've been flakey at being in touch, and they've been overly annoying with worries and check ins. But, all that doesn't really matter, because the root of it all is a relationship based in Love. 
___

After spending a good amount in Ontario, cooking many delicious meals and eating with family, practicing lots of yoga and networking the heck out of everyone and every org I know in Victoria, I landed there (here!) - Victoria - my new home. And it feels strange, me of all people, I'm the one unattached to place, to house, I've always found a sense of home in my heart (I've even wrote previous blogs about it), but I found myself in the last 4 months really craving a sense of place different then I can find when I'm in motion. 

I've had such an overwhelming amount of opportunities in the past 21 months of adventure, since I packed up my little home in Ottawa and headed to the East Coast of Canada. I'm so grateful for my east coast solo bicycle trip, my time on farm in Quebec, my journey to British Columbia, my time being overwhelmed in Mexico, my permaculture course in Ecuador, my facilitation experience in Southeast Asia, my family time in the autumn, and my yoga teacher training back in Ecuador. I've finally explored (a bit) of Latin America. I've become a yoga teacher, a more skilled facilitator. I've learned a ton more about growing food and wild edible plants. I've searched my soul, I've searched for couchsurfing addresses, I've searched for good food, I've searched for that feeling....I've met amazing people, had some intense connections, and learned so so so much about the universe...

some of the coastline close to my current home

And here I am fulfilling this sensation that I first had in the summer months in Souteast Asia. A sensation of desire to root. And if not to root, to at least grow little rootlets, that will grab hold of some nourishing soil to make way for sustainable, supportive friends and community. I crave another meaningful job, I crave a home space with friends who are welcoming to community gatherings, and who like to cook and garden. It seems I've been successful on a couple of those fronts in just 2 weeks!

Notes from Peru

View from my high altitude hike in the Cordillera Blanco in Peru ~5000masl

high altitude mountain glacial lakes - Peru

awestruck

Huanchaco, Peru

I recently spent some time in another new country to me: Peru. Newly minted a certified yoga teacher, I left the comforts of my beautiful friends' farm for the traveller's adventure once more. Making my first stop at the west coast of Peru, after 100's of kilometres in the dusty expanse of the desert, where life exists only beside the oases that tiny river valleys provide, life seeming inhospitable even in these narrow spaces where the flash of green has a welcome cooling affect on the otherwise squinting eyes over the bright beige sand dunes... The coastal town of Huanchaco boasts great surfing, amazing food, and a scene of local fishers who paddle out in homemade reed boats. 

The town was dusty; as were the towering dunes at the east end of the town, forcing any growth north an south only along the ocean shore. And I realized a traveler's curse after just a couple hours exploring this beach town...I've been spoiled by other, more beautiful beaches. And in this state of privilege, I've also been able to develop a sense of satisfaction with any place for what it is, appreciating the place for what it does allow, what it does have. And while the grey sand, stray dogs, bigggg waves, and floating plastic didn't call me to come swimming at every moment, I did appreciate the length of the beach which allowed for great runs, hidden spots to practice yoga, and cheery artisans selling their unique jewels. And I was able to process even more of what was happening in my life, cook my own food, and socialize with interesting people. 

Of course, as I anticipated, I was keen for a change of scene after 3 days at the beach, and so headed for the mountains on time for my 29th birthday. 

And mountains they certainly were. 

These were no mini mountains, no Gatineau hills. They happened to be the highest mountains in South America, the tallest towering to 6100 masl. I signed up for a three day program of sorts. So I spent my first day in the Huaraz area for a good chunk of time in a mini van, winding my way slowly over stunning high Andes mountain vistas, painfully sitting in an unchangeable upright seat, over pot hole laden dirt tracks to a small community that has some very interesting and ancient Incan ruins. It was no Machu Picchu, and not being a history buff, I had concern that I would be disappointed with the site, that the word 'boredom' might approach my consciousness. But as our Spanish speaking guide took us about the site of Chavin, I became more and more intrigued about how this ancient culture was connected to Pachamama, how they practice ceremony and ritual. 

As I attempted to comprehend all the (Spanish) information that was directed my way, My mind began to connect the similarities of spirituality that different people practice all over this world. Historically, there were cultures all over this world, a long time ago, all doing similar spiritual practices, around the same times without ever communicating with one another!  (Some folks may position that they were in fact communicating with one bother through the stars, the earth or other spirits). Incas, Chinese, First Nations of Canada, aboriginals of Australia, they all worshiped the constellations, used plants as medicine, whether hallucinogenic to further their exploration of the darkness or for a bruise on one's leg. They had and have special ceremony for gratitude, in fact every moment of life seems to be an offering of gratitude in these cultures, especially indigenous ones. For the Incas, the maize plant, serpent, feline, and condor reigned supreme as figures in their spiritual worship. The First Nations of Canada, the eagle, corn, beans, squash, and turtle characterize many of their traditional stories. Land and environment in these cultures are so important, so intertwined with there lives, there is no separation.

After a day in history, I spent the next two exploring glacial lakes and hiking to heights of 5100 masl. In a way I was still spending days in history, as you can see the track that glaciers take as they slowly retreat, hear the eerie echo of a glacier calving, as nothing in nature ever is unchanging. With my head slightly throbbing, elevation seeming to grab tightly and squeeze, I journeyed to Laguna 69 as well. A high mountain glacial lake, it has unique turquoise colours and beautiful waterfalls pouring down into it from ice above. But it was more so the journey there that was impressive. Moving up slowly, passing by other equally impressive lagunas, we crossed through alpine forests, marched past cascading waterfalls, jumped over sloppy cow paddies, and stripped off our shoes for some seriously icey river crossings. With vanishing waterfalls, hiding mountains and the tallest mountain in Peru as a backdrop, yes, it was the journey that was super special, worthwhile. But then again, isn't that always the way it goes? The journey is truely the most rewarding part of this life....

And journey on friends, I'm now writing from Guatemala, where I'm on the road facilitating another Operation Groudswell program. Once again, I feel affirmation that facilitating the learning and exploring of young adults is a type of work I really do feel is natural and meaningful. And the support that a group can offer is just fantastic, it's one of my favourite things in life. The uniqueness of community connection... in these group travel experiences, it's so wonderful to feel supported, and to see participants supporting one another.

Abrazos y besos, beautiful people...