In the land down under.

How you going?

I'm starting to pick up on this Aussie lingo.

I've now been here for two full weeks! I've been spending my days exploring Sydney: going to Bondi Beach, cycling the busy streets of Newtown, discovering community gardens, finding and volunteering at the Alfalfa Food Co-operative, joining a great yoga studio, doing work trades at the vegan cafe that is in the yoga studio, cycling around the botanical gardens, gathering and leafing through many books from the public library, and following the bicycle paths on my "push bike" (as they call bicycles here).

Though speaking of my bike, it took a little while for me to be comfortable taking Poppy out in this city. I've never been quite so intimidated with riding my bicycle in a city. Maybe it was the warnings people gave me about Sydneysiders driving recklessly, or about how Sydney isn't as bicycle oriented as alot of other cities. I think it was just the apprehension around riding my bicycle on the left side of the road!

But alas, of course I jumped on, after getting a glimpse into the fears of those people who say "It's too scary to ride a bike in a city". And my fears are gone - though I do find Sydney drivers less aware of cyclists, and there does seem to be less cyclists on the road here, compared with North American cities I have recently visited. There is a fairly good network of separated cycle paths and bicycle signage on roads, but you still must stay quite aware of vehicle traffic around you. I'm missing the days of cycling in the same gear for an hour and never unclipping my shoes or putting on my breaks; soon enough I'll embark on another cycle tour...

So Sydney - a metropolitan, gorgeous, clean, wealthy city. That's my view of it so far. I'm probably making generalizations, yes, but that's the way it feels. I'm adjusting to city life, and to the expense of it all, especially in Oz, where prices are much higher then in North America for food at the grocery and food at restaurants. I'm getting used to being sedentary, I mean, having a place to come to each night, knowing where I will lay my head. My how that is easier on the brain (albeit a wee bit less exciting). And I am getting used to Krista and Tua, loving how I spend my evenings cooking and eating with them in their home, baking treats for them while they are at work, discussing plans for their upcoming wedding celebration, and meeting all of their wonderful friends here.

I feel a lot like I'm in a land where nothing is familiar, even though Australia is a commonwealth country that has been subjected to globalization like any other... The plants look different, people are slightly hard to understand, independent cafes and restaurants spill onto every street, where I ride my bike on the left, and where it feels nothing like a traditional Christmas. The weather is warm, the Christmas decorations and carols quite sparse, and the farmers markets have spring and early summer produce in bounty! My internal seasonal clock is confused...as I welcome an afternoon sitting in the sunshine outside, rather then cozy by a fireplace indoors or baking up a Christmas cookie storm! I'm even going camping this December weekend to celebrate the fact that I'm a hitting a quarter century in age. I'm going to have to crank the carols and bake some gingerbread cookies if I want to simulate some kind of Christmas 'round here...

I've been practicing yoga almost every day here, and have been setting intentions at the beginning of each session. Things to meditate on, positive affirmations, or manifestations. As I struggle with my flying across the entire Pacific ocean after living a rather simple carbon friendly life for the past number of months, I keep returning to what my good friend Sean told me as we parted in San Fransisco. He told me I could offset my carbon emissions with love! So, I've been energetically infusing love into all you folks who have helped me get to where I am today. I invite you to do the same. Take a quiet moment or two to concentrate on one person, and send them love through your heart. Show love outwardly by greeting a stranger in the street with a smile, telling someone they're beautiful, letting your partner that you appreciate them. Show love to your garden or your pets or show love to mama earth by committing to change one enviro action today. Most of all, don't forget to love and take care of your own spirit, so that you are ever more able and prepared to share with others around you.

finally some photos!

Finally I've uploaded a few of my photos, my impatience with doing these things means I randomly selected some photos from Otesha - and into my month in the U.S. Otesha with our bodies, My otesha team, superhero cycling day, Tricia and Kayla playing, The Redwoods, The portland farmers market abundance, Kayla and Melissa on Vancouver Island, Sean Kayla Emily, Me and my bike on the golden gate!

in san fran. on a bike.

So many feelings, experiences, and things happen over the days of cycle touring. So many friendly conversations, so many emotions as you pedal up a hill or hoot and hollar as you whip down a massive mountain you just passed over.

Since I last wrote, I experienced more of the wild, surprising beauty of the Californian environment, people, and places.

After a welcomed rest day in Arcata, wandering around and exploring the super transient spliff smoking culture of the town, we bid farewell to our wondrous host Ashley, and cycled into the very brisk northern Cali morning. And onwards we went, into the thick dense redwoods. Along the splendidly indescribable Avenue of the Giants. A quiet road through amazingly silent but powerfully present trees. Indescribable these giants are, as they sit ever so close to the road, moist and still in the dense old growth forest. A super special place to cycle, I was so grateful to be there! Even when the cold rain came. After a soggy, but warm night camping beneath these trees, the three of us cycled further into the redwoods - watching the sunshine twinkle and try to peak through the dense giants, as crystal droplets of moisture fell ever so slowly to the land below. We cycled up into Garberville, and beyond, staying one more night camping out in the beautiful redwoods, and gaining another cycling friend, John from Huston, who's been on the road for 13 months, just him and his bike. Our threesome was now a foursome.

Onwards we went in the wee early hours of the day cycling up some steep hills, and down into epic valleys, eventually cycling into the town of Laytonville, where I gladly warmed my toes, and we began to think about where we may find a place to camp for the evening. And then Sean saw it: "Don't forget the magic" embossed on the side of a trinket-laden, but tidy looking shed - we thought we just can't pass such a place without asking if we could pitch our tent and have a campfire on this person's property. The jolly old eccentric man welcomed us kindly, and invited us to come in and warm ourselves by his wood stove before setting up camp in the fading afternoon light. We had a yummy campfire meal among some pine trees that night and crawled into our tents with blissfully full bellies and tired bodies as it started to pour a cold rain.

The next morning we awoke to more pouring rain, and Sean called his friends in Lake County telling them that we were en route to their house that day. Wendall, our soon to be cowboy, veteran, susty livin family man host at Burnt Buggie Ranch, gladly volunteered himself to drive the hour long ride from their place to come pick us up on that cold day. We accepted this lovely offerring...

Burnt Buggie Ranch became our home for the next 3 nights, as we explored their acreage, went on a horseback ride in the rugged, wild rolling, but desert mountains of Lake county, and sipped plenty a cups of warm tea, and warmed our toes by their wood stove. Wendall, Carlene, and Ashley were such generous hosts - giving their food, showers, beds, washer, and spiritual spaces generously to us to use. We also shared a lovely thanksgiving meal with them and all of their friends, a long table of 14 folks, an eclectic mix of cowboys, raw foodies, astrologists, local wine lovers, musicians and war vets. The meal was traditional and delicious in its fare aside from my lentil sweet potato creation, and Susan's raw gluten free cashew pie. As the off the electrical grid house went quiet, we each took time to express what we were grateful for this thanksgiving. Then the music jam began, and much singing and bopping and digesting occurred!

It was hard to say goodbye to Burnt Buggie Ranch, and our beautiful hosts, but we cycled onwards the next morning, into the grape laden Napa Valley, up and over and then back down Mt St Helenas (possibly the most hilariously FUN downhill I have ever experienced - I could not stop laughing at the thrill of it!) We found a secluded camp spot in between the grape laden fields and huge homes and winery buildings for the evening, and saw clearly oodles of stars through the mysteriously bare but mossy trees as we creeped closer and closer to the bay area. After one more night at a warm showers host in Pinole, talking about their adventures from Alaska all the way down to Argentina, Sean, Emily and I rode into San Francisco! We had made it!

After inspiring and being inspired at the Occupy San Fran movement, we unloaded our gear into Sean's friends tiny downtown apartment, were we cozied up for the evening. The next day we cycled a huge loop around the city, and the weather was clear and beautiful as we met new folks, duked it out with the San Fran hills, crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, and generally had a ball. We explored Oakland the next day, with a close friend of mine, and he introduced us to his sparkly friends where we slept for the next two evenings, and to another group of friends who are living in an inspiring way, a collective space where they strive to live lightly, build community within and between themselves and the somewhat troubled East Oakland community, live simply, and grow their own food (figs included - mmm). Some beautiful music was made, food shared, work in the garden done, and connections made with the folks of this special collective.

As I've said before, it's tricky to express in words what an experience has meant to you, to your soul, to your heart, to your growth. And, as Sean wisely put it, I still have plenty of growing into myself to do, but these past months of bicycle adventuring has really been inspiring, challenging, special, wild, and beautiful. I've connected with some really great souls, that I am so lucky and grateful to have come into connection with, and can't wait to cross paths with again. And as I giddily held my bicycle above my head for Emily to take my photo on the Golden Gate bridge, I was especially thankful for her and Sean, who made this journey possible and reminded me of the beautiful universe that was protecting and lovin' us the whole while long.

May the wind be at your back and the air be in your tires Sean and Emily, as you cycle onwards during your ride for peace!

Next stop for Poppy and I: Australia! Southern hemisphere, here I come!

California dreams

The Oregon Coast is wet. The Northern Californian Coast is also wet. Fancy that the Pacific Coast is wet and cold in November eh?

Well, have I had adventures since I last wrote from Eugene. I cycled and camped one long day alone, but it was quite neat actually. To see how my thoughts changed, how my mental moods shifted, how I went within and sent pedal strokes to different folks all across the country, and how I took good time to really think about why I am on this adventure of the bicycle, and adventure of the heart.

After just one 60 mile day alone, in a campground with sky high sand dunes (amazzzzing) I met up with Sean and Emily! Two familiar faces who I met during September's Otesha training week, who embarked on the concurrent Otesha tour across the Kootenay Mountains, and had been working their way down the Pacific Coast while I crossed Washington and most of Oregon inland. Perfect timing, and we were off, now a threesome, to ride further south. Passing through touristy towns with RV parks everywhere, finding a place in Coos Bay to pitch our (wet) tents. Next, riding through super moist, super mystical mossy forest, cycling up and up and down and down the "seven devils" and landing just as night fall came at a community hall type place in the boonies, just outside Port Orford. Really a wonderful spot to camp out, and lovely to have dry weather to cook our dinner and create a toasty campfire! The next day down the coast brought mind numbing, finger and toe numbing rainy weather, and it's been real rainy ever since. Luckily, we have happened upon warm indoor spaces thus far, bumping into friendly church groups who offered warm stew, fellow cyclists who shared their rented beach cottage with us in Gold Beach, and staying at a wonderful warm shower's hosts (mmm, cornbread and black bean soup, green salad and apple crisp - so grateful to lay our heads in a warm welcoming safe space!) in Cresent City. During the days, especially when we aren't sure where we will lay our heads, it is a constant mental battle to stay strong and warm, and enjoy the stunning scenery that we have been around. The southern part of the Oregon Coast was majestic, sea stacks everywhere, an gnarly ocean ripping away, the odd flash of a blue sky. Upon entering California, we entered the Redwoods - stunningly huge ancient trees that towered over us as we road up and up a multi-summit pass through Redwoods State Park yesterday. Our day ended with some wild adventures - daylight is super short, and my flat tires were many - let's just say we made it to Arcata, safe and soaked to the bone, and connected with a lovely woman who has welcomed us into her home, and is treating us like gold. And so we take a day off here, to get warm sipping tea, and to check out this quirky, seriously pot loving town. As Sean sung to me when I swore as I got another flat as the daylight was fading fast yesterday on the highway way out of any town, "every little thing, is gonna be alright". Everything was indeed alright.

Emily and Sean have been wonderfully positive, easy flow, accepting mates to tour with. I am so excited that they are as excited as me about their bicycles, even when it is nearly freezing out, and the rains are prevalent. We keep each other motivated and warm, singing songs up the mountains, speaking to the redwoods and to the ocean, reveling in the privilege that we have to be cycle touring, and trusting that the universe and the generous folks that are out there will help keep us safe and warm!

There were times when I doubted I would cycle into San Fran, but Sean and Emily have made it certain that we will get there, on our bicycles, perhaps with help along the way. We are but 320 miles away! And we have some of the most beautiful, most rugged landscape ahead of us, as we will journey through the avenue of the giants, and the lost coast highway. I do it with excitement, but also with apprehension. The weather makes me feel less confident and safe in my abilities.

As we flew down a summit yesterday, out of the redwoods and back to ocean level, and found ourselves at a positively breathtaking viewpoint of sea stacks on this rugged, wild northern Californian coast, Emily gave Sean and I a smiley huge hug, and I read aloud the poem she had scribbled on her arm when she stopped for the scene halfway down the summit:

crystal blue

water

down below me

faint fair clouds

sty turns to ocean

foggy

the redwood trees

are my angels

peace and love to you all dear friends, family and readers.

food carts, funky farms, and college.

I could sum up our Portland visit with mostly one adjective and a couple nouns: good food, good cycling, good host and good yoga. Tricia, Hannah and I ate our way through (part) of Portland, and jeepers, Portland really does do cycling right.

While in Portland I had multiple treats and loafs of beautifully multi grain teff, or sourdough bread, a piece of delectable vegan gf pumpkin pecan pie, a pint of locally brewed gluten free beer at one of the hundreds of craft breweries in Portland. There is a serious cart food culture in Portland - and you're probably thinking, oh yeah, carts selling hot dogs and hamburgers - nope. These were full on, artisan, variable food trucks, stands, stalls that were permanently located around sets of picnic benches on different city street blocks. The first set of carts we visited, I got a gluten free vegan lemon sugar crepe. And could have also chose to have loaded french fries (with even something as strange as pb and j), Indian food, Venezuelan arepas (which i had for lunch the following day, while Tricia had rice and beans in a waffle cone and Hannah had a yum looking homemade savoury mushroom pie). These carts amazed us! Real food, made fast, with fresh sometimes healthful, sometimes local ingredients, all definitely independently owned. How neat! Small spaces are continuously winning my heart over!

And then there was the Portland farmers market - vendor after vendor selling their organic local harvest veggies, their cheese, wine, apples, bread, mint, mushrooms, preserves, fresh hot food, meat, etc etc etc. We were in wonder as we wandered, tried samples, and had lovely conversations with these farmers! We followed our farmers market visit with a really inspiring talk with the authors of the feminist mag BUST, who just printed a rockin' DIY guide to life! So fun to look at and get ideas for future projects from. Over the next days in Portland we cruised the bike lanes all over the city, checkin out nook's and crannies, visiting the food co-op, checking out the unique niche cafes and restaurants and shops on Alberta ave, and attending a couple yoga classes. Good times Portland was...

As I mentioned in my last post, I've committed to buying nothing new for a whole year, to re-examine my consumption, to reuse, and to get creative about what I use and how I come to use it. My first challenge arose in Portland when I went to put on my helmet and the plastic head casing bit broke in two. Jeez. Can you buy a used helmet? Will it be as effective at protecting your noggin? Is there anyway to repair it? These were questions I pondered as my broken helmet refused to stay on my head. In the end, Tricia and I agreed that our commitment to buy nothing new would not compromise our ability to remain safe, so I purchased a new helmet from the bicycle co-op and left my old one there, with a volunteer promising that they have folks who recycle all the bits of old helmets. hmph. On a positive buy-nothing-note, I have avoided buying new toothpaste - did I tell you that? Made my own with baking soda, eucalyptus oil, peppermint oil, a pinch of salt and water. It's as easy as that.

And as fast as the daylight is disappearing, so did our time in Portland, we set back the clocks and two mornings later Tricia and I woke super early and rode 68 miles down to a farm just south of Salem, where we were connecting with a friend of mine who has recently moved onto his family's land to see what he can create with it there. We arrived in the rain, and unloaded our bicycles into his old, cozy work in progress, heritage homestead. And, he had more delicious food for us - a warm croc pot full with vegetably lentily goodness. It was a welcomed meal after our 60+ mile ride. We chatted and snacked into the night, played some cards, and shared dreams of what living a simple farming life could look like. We dreamed about communities creating sustainable homes and lives on the land. We visited his goats, picked some figs and grapes, and cozied up in our sleeping bags for a solid sleep in this mystical old farm house. The next day we got up and out early enough to ride another 64 miles before darkness falls during these shortened fall days. And, we safely made it to Eugene, OR.

We were warmly welcomed, once again, by an Otesha Olumni on her University of Oregon Campus, where we would be sharing her dorm with her, and living the American university life for the next few days. We did a fun presentation last night about Otesha and about cycle touring to 6 interested students, attending a class with Jessica on media, cycled along the very well cycled paths of the university here, and we heard and saw many a sterotypical American university quality while on campus. Football competition reigns high, students go 60 thousand dollars in debt just to finish college as fast as they can, and sororities and fraternities are prevalent.

And now, here I am. Sitting with my wonderful host for one last warm night before I head out again on my bicycle tomorrow, in the rain no doubt. Hannah headed back to Canada from Portland, and Tricia headed back northbound this evening. Now, I'm heading to the wild wet coast to catch up with two other familiar cyclists. Feels real funny embarking on this next leg without my team mates at my side. Soon enough I'll have other cycling buddies, but the solo travelling butterflies (as Tricia so perfectly described them tonight) have come into my belly, and I know now that my Otesha experience has really come to an end, and this adventure, is now my own. Scary, exciting, exhilarating.

Cheers to confidence and Independence. To warm nights and to safety. Cheers to cycling buddie reliance and google map reading. Cheers to warm hosts and cool nights. Cheers to the privilege to choose to embark on this adventure. To being out of my comfort zone, in a healthy way. Cheers to this strange, wonderful life.

Beyond Canada

Hannah, Tricia and I arrived safely in Portland last night! After 5 days and 5 adventurous nights cycling southbound through Washington, we find ourselves in another state, and in some ways, another world.

We started our adventure last Saturday, as we cycled for the last time through Victoria, being sure to stop off at the Origins Bakery so I could grab a loaf of fresh GF bread before heading to the ferry over to Port Angeles. We were all stocked up and ready to camp that evening, and so, after perusing our first American farmers market, and managing to also bump into a celebration at a delightful wee 100-mile food shop, we took to the Washington bike path, and found ourselves at a beautiful state park on the water, where there are special hiker-biker camp sites that are uber cheap,and even have bicycle racks! Along with the state park we stayed at the next night, we were the only ones at the campground - fall is truly and fully upon us in Washington and Oregon. We cycled southbound, surrounding, but not on the I-5 through some wacky and weird small American towns, bumping into some really very curious, and interesting folks along the way. My personal favourite was the stop that we made at one of the hundreds of drive through espresso shacks that we passed - a curious driver asked where we were headed, and our conversation progressed into a rant about liberalism, election time and witchcraft. whew! Another favourite was a wonderful farmer who we bought some veggies from (after realizing that the "grocery store" in that town was nothing more of a gas station, we back tracked a mile to come back to her veggies!) brought us out some delicious homemade pesto and bread!

And then there was Olympia - a very neat city indeed - the capital of Washington, with a old city vibe, but starting to bust at the seam with new age funk that the new-ish college brings to this city. We had our first experience with warm showers there, an Internet site that hooks up cycle tourists with other cycling enthusiasts who have a floor, couch or space to offer up. After a thorough visit to the Olympia food co-op, we arrived at our host's place as he was preparing a delicious, nutritious meal for us all! We were fully stoked, after two really quite chilly nights of camping and cooking over the camp stove. Our hosts were amazing - conversation came easy with these enviro minded farmers/teachers/activist. And we were overjoying the morning when our oatmeal was replaced by homemade gluten free blueberry pancakes, and our host guided us out of the city and onto our path further south!

On our way again, we felt more and more chilly, even as we rode, but continued to give great thanks to mama earth for not raining down on us! We had plotted to stay at another state campground, only to arrive at it in the cold fading sunlight and realize that it was closed. We didn't feel we had enough daylight to get to the next town - so we guerrilla camped, filled up every water vessel we had at a neighbouring home, and set up camp under a picnic shelter in the park. We even managed to make a little fire, and as we huddled around it and ate our lentil-millet-brocoflower dinner, we shared stories with one another about what our families ate growing up, and what our traditions were in our different home worlds.

When we awoke the next morning, we found frost everywhere, and our toes and fingers were quite chilly - we ate our oats fast and cycled our buns off into the next little all-American town - Toledo. There was a moment on that ride that I will certainly remember. As I tried desperately to bring my toes alive, I looked over the sleepy agricultural field to the east, and I saw the sun - trying to bring us warmth, and the field absolutely frozen in time and silence. The frost looked like snow as I gazed at it through my breath as we cycled along. It truly was a beautiful scene, and made me forget my chilly toes in a hurry; I knew Toledo was only 6 miles away.

After some more wild small town Washington stops, and after one more wonderful warm shower stay in Longview, we arrived yesterday in Portland, went out to a yummy pub with our hosts here, and met a number of other die-hard cycle enthusiasts. My next move is yet to be written. The last few days were a test in my ability to keep my ayurveda vata body warm! I am still so eager to cycle the pacific coast, but since leaving Victoria just 5 days ago, the weather has seemed to get significantly colder, and my confidence to deal with the elements is becoming less strong. So, I'll adventure this weekend in Portland, and re-assess my plans.

I must offer gratitude in this blog post. For the ability to choose to have this adventure. For our warm shower hosts who made us food, who gave us beds (!) to sleep on, and who were generally so keen to share and learn with us. For my tent that kept me warm(ish) while camping. For my 14 Otesha team-mates who Hannah, Tricia and I continually remembered while we were doing our daily "bike touring tasks" and especially for Tricia and Hannah, for being such wonderful companions, on this very different portion of our cycling journey. I hope you are somewhere warm dear friend.

Love Kayla

Last Otesha Days

Ooooooh Otesha. You once again have captured my heart and soul.

One last performance, one last cycle ride. As we completed our finale performance the the UVic Campus, we were flying high in the sky with the delightful energy that last performance brought us, that riding the hills of the sunshine coast, and Vancouver island has brought us. And it wasn't only the hills that were challenging; it was the early mornings, it was the flu, it was the rain, it was the challenge of living in a large group, it was the simple life, it was living in close quarters. It was going outside of our comfort zone, and putting ourselves out there in a way that many of us had never imagined we'd ever do. But we sure did do it, and quite successfully too. On our last evening together, we giggled our way together to our dinner spot post performance, with blinking lights in the setting fall sun, and high vis vests galore, we dinged our bells and sang down the streets of Victoria, shouting words of bicycle love to other cyclists along the way. It was a joyous ride, because as a group of strong female individuals, we had come together as one solid team, to take on this challenging two month adventure. Each of us will always remember the delicious food, the early mornings, the feeling of breathing out with excitement when you see all your other teammates arriving at a destination after a long cycling day. We will always remember the folks that we met who are doing amazing work in their communities, the activist swimmers, the keen inspiring environmental clubs, the farmer students, our sacred circle dancing friends, the open farmers, the stores who were generous, and the students who told us the play captured their attention and inspired them to act.

Forever we have forged friendships with one another that we will never forget, and forever we will remember these days as fun and challenging ones, and forever we will bring this inspiration that Otesha has brought us into our lives and our communities. As a whole slew of sustainability projects are being proposed, schemed and committed to, one other tour member and I are going to challenge ourselves more: to buy NOTHING NEW FOR A YEAR. We've yet to work out the details - figuring out what all will be included or not in our buying nothing new, but either way, we'll be getting real creative over the next year to shop second hand, make our own, or barter things with others. Here goes!

It is with great fairy ferry sparkle dust that I write this message - to everyone that my team and I have come across. We have great hope that we have planted a seed in many, so that positive action, positive projects continue to evolve in communities across Canada...

Stay tuned for many more posts as Tricia, Hannah and I continue our adventures southbound, leaving Victoria for Port Angeles, WA on Saturday!

the gulf islands of hope.

Ah, the gulf islands. Where alternative liberal culture seems mainstream, where free organic apples populate the road side, and where life seems just blissful. I'm currently on Salt Spring Island. Hilly, yes, beautiful, check, delicious vegetables, a definite. All in all, it's quite a magical place to visit, to reaffirm that these liberal haven's do exist, and to visit it with my new friends who share the same excitement as me for all these things, makes it all the better.

After a picnic in the warm fall sunshine beside the famous farmers market in Ganges, following continuous mmmmmm's from all of us as we devoured local peppers, tomaotes, kale, tapanade, sprouts, we cycled up the hills en route back to our host's plot of land. About halfway through the 12km, we stopped at a beautiful freshwater lake and myself and two other team-mates tore off our clothes, and jumped into the water. We sure did hoot and holler, as the cool water shocked our warm bodies to attention. As we scrambled up the doc, and sat in the warm sun, we reveled in the privilege that we all share to be surrounded by such abundance and beauty, and to be able to partake in this wondrous journey.

Sending you some of my love.

No one said it would be easy

Life in a group is, well, challenging. Especially when you have a large group with a very diverse set of needs, energy and attention levels, and then you throw in some unique scenarios, like pouring rain, flus and colds, and still expectations from the outside world to perform.

Let's rewind a couple days to our absolutely lovely mid-tour retreat at Linnea Farm on quiet gunflint lake on Cortes Island, where we had a cozy space warmed by a wood stove for debriefing, rehearsing and cooking. The farm itself is set in a super unique eco-tone where there is fresh water, bluffs, and small flat valleys for farming in. There are many neat things about this place, but one that was of particular interest to me was the farm school program that they offer for 8 months. Students learn everything from vegetable farming to wildcrafting, permaculture, animal husbandry, welding, carpentry, and biodynamics. We had the wonderful opportunity to have a potluck with a number of the 11 people who are part of the program, and it turned out that they were all young women, much like the women on our team, and conversation and inspiration ensued about each other's adventures with learning! I warned our host that they might just see an application from a certain Kayla someday down the road for this unique program...

As we adventured onward the cold that was running through our group worsened, I caught it, and a few others were starting to have the flu. We were heading out of Campbell River, post performance, down to settle in Royston at an organic strawberry farm, where we'd be camping out while in the Comox Valley. The land and our hosts were beautiful, gracious and warm, but the weather certainly was not. Those in the group that were feeling the cold and flu, were in less then excited moods at the prospect of staying outside for a few days in rudimentary facilities, away from tow in the chilly pouring rain. So, we sought indoor space. Luckily some of my other contacts here set us up at the community centre where we now have warm space to sleep.

But it really made me reflect on just how very very lucky we are to have warm indoor spaces, and how I feel so selfish and spoiled when I even consider the fact that I might feel hungry, or cold. There are so many folks out there who deal with such feelings in a chronic way, who am I to acknowledge these feelings? To consider that even though our bellies were full, we had tents and camp stoves but the group still wasn't satisfied really made me sad.

In an effort to keep our group harmonious, healthy and happy I moved into town, tried to show as much gratitude to the folks at the strawberry farm as possible, and smiled at the generosity of our new hosts. But I really still crave the simplicity of the farm. I like experiencing some discomforts, so that I might feel a little closer to those folks who don't always feel warm, safe and cozy. Uncomfortable situations are some of the best opportunities to learn about yourself, and to learn about your group...and learn I have.

Flash forward to today, a visit, with just five from my team who felt they had the energy to get on our bicycles and cycle 20km out to a family operated woodlot. Harold Macy, who wrote an amazing book that I am so excited to read entitled "The Four Storey Forest; As Grow the trees, so too the Heart" was a great inspiration to us five who visited the sustainably forested woodlot, and did a walk around with him on his land. He takes such time and care in the forest, and truly respects Mother Nature's power and force and unique ability to tell a story that we will never quite understand.

A part of Harold's epilogue reads:

"I have learned to recognize the pragmatism of the forest and not dwell on the unchangeable, but to get over it and move on."

A good lesson beyond the forest too, eh?

"The trees have a way of welcoming us, nurturing us, and subtly allowing us to grow, even as they do. I encourage you to walk in the forest, to work among the trees with tools in hand, and to allow time for the subtle voices to tell you their stories. You will be rewarded."

A good lesson indeed.

Cycling my way into beautiful people.

Hello from Campbell River. I write to you again, as my 14 other team mates are mostly asleep in thier bags on the school gym floor, and I somehow find myself still awake and not quite exhausted - yet. We had a lovely (but early) day today, up at 5:45 to catch the 7am ferry over to Vancouver Island, after spending the last number of days in Coastal Powell River. Then, we cycled, along the ocean side, beside farms, and the sun was shining, the air super crisp. After my bike buddie blew a pretty good flat and we finally got her bicycle going again, we stopped for a marvelous lunch at Oyster Bay. Stunning scenery of blue mountains looming on other islands in the distance, with clouds no where in the sky except around those seemingly distant mountains. When we hit the road for the last 20km of the day, my bike buddie promptly had another flat, so we unpacked her bike again, patched the tube once more, and realized her whole tire was in need of replacement! Since this isn't something we carry on ourselves, we did the $5 bill trick, where you slip it in the tire before the tube (credit to the cyclist passin' by).

Needless to say, we eventually got here, and our team mates already had some yummy supper on the stove, and the angel of a custodian was fixing us up with anything and everything that we might need to make the school cozy for us. Whew. People are just. so. great. Over and over again we are meeting people who are open and willing to help out. Like the couple with the beautiful garden yesterday, whose door I promptly knocked on when I saw they had a composter, and I stood with near dripping food waste bags, asking if we could deposit our food scraps on their land. As my two bike buddies for the day curiously looked on, we got nothing but a jolly response from the man in who answered the door, as he told me stories of their fig tree, their hazelnut tree, and their bay leaf bush! my oh my...

I also keep bumping into this woman who is just sweet to talk to, saw her on our ferry ride to Saltry Bay, again at the Powell River Fall fair, and then again today on the ferry to Comox! She was just so curious and interested in what we were doing, so genuine. And when she shared what she is doing, volunteering with a group of youth advocating against drug and alcohol abuse, I was so excited that she was excited about her work. Inspiring she was...

I can't wait until tomorrow - when I might meet another curious soul, inspiring soul, helpful soul.

Goodnight my dear loved ones.

Patience and Tolerance

Patience. A most necessary attribute that you need to fully submit and live as a collective group. I am constantly reminded that I have plenty more work to do in this area, that I have heaps more growing and learning to do to become a more patient person. Whether this means being patient at the beginning of a group meeting, being present and aware of your surroundings, or whether patience means cheering on your cycling buddie as they slowly creep to the top of the hill, but all you want to do is cycle fassssst. Patience is listening to each persons thoughts, opinions and comments, and actively, presently absorbing what they are saying, and taking it into consideration. Patience is recognizing that every task, when being done by or with a group of 15 will take heaps of time, but that same task probably couldn't be done on your own either.

Tolerance. This is another attribute that I am finding really important during an intense group living experience. You need to recognize that everyone is coming from entirely different life experiences, and each with their own strengths and weaknesses. These things have to be accepted and tolerated.

<br I'm writing from the dark corner of the basement of the Rockwood centre in Sechelt, BC. Were staying in a church youth space. My team has settled down for the evening, and the lights are out, but the glow from this computer in the corner may be bright enough to disrupt. We had a hilly but pleasant ride today, it was sunny,and the air was fresh beside the sea. The three trailers that the team is pulling are proving to be quite challenging. There are certainly some stronger and some weaker cyclists that are on our team, so we are trying to equitably spread out the work of carrying the trailers, and not necessarily have equal sharing of them. But my, I've done alot of cycle touring in the past, and these trailers are heavy up these sunshine coast hills! So heavy that sometimes my touring baby, Poppy, can't make it to the top unless I stand and pedal real hard. I'm afraid my back is tiring, but my overall energy levels certainly aren't. The place we are staying right now has showers - though i still feel like I could do okay for a few more days, I am welcoming of this shower I will take right now - but you can count on the fact that I will be staggering it (google it if you're not sure what I mean :)

Thinking of all of you and sending big hugs from afar.

Vancouver days

Performing is the name of our Otesha tour at this point in time. We've already performed our play to a number of students here in Vancouver, and though it's been well received, we are dying for some down time to spend tweaking it, honing it, and making it our own. Were excited to make it more comedic and more hopeful, as all too often students are inundated with negative facts and scenarios in their education. Otesha has prided itself in the past on being this hopeful inspiration for youth, and I'm stoked to continue to carry on this fun, hopeful message... Life on tour is, well, busy. If your really curious about a play by play, here goes...wake up song sung by the time wolf at 6am. If it's your cooking squad's turn to craft up a delicious breakfast, you get into the kitchen, or light up those camps stoves asap. Sizzling Sockies (my cooking crew!) was up this morning, so we made two pots of hot cereal, both with some rescued apples added in. Top that with some local honey, and all 15 bellies are full. Pack up the kitchen things after everyone has packed up their lunches (crafted the night before) and get ready to rock and roll, cause you have to be outta the school gym that you cozily slept in by 8am. Head on over by bike to a learning opportunity at the local bicycle co-op (Our Community Bikes, and PEDAL) and do some tweaking on your bike after learning about this community driven organization that enables folks from all walks of life to feel good about their ride. Then, cycle on towards North Vancouver, 25km over the bridge, along some hilly roads, and arrive at your performance venue for 1pm. Eat your lunch when you arrive, and then jump around on stage for a while. Discuss with students and teachers important issues during the Q and A period, and then breath out. Connect with a few really excited students one on one, and feel yourself getting inspired by them simply, caring. It's time to head back and get supper on! And then, time for the evening meeting! Maybe we'll do a play rehearsal? Or maybe talk more about refining the groups food mandate? We'll definitely go over the day's logistics for tomorrow, and refresh everyones mind about what role they are (vibe watcher, host friend, compost crusader, performance set up, navigator etc, etc....) Maybe a silly game or two fits its way in there, and maybe an emotional check in too...whew...roll out your sleeping bag, and crawl in...it'll feel oh so great. Goodnight.

Like Roots

I love living with Otesha folks. Giant tasks seem mundane, delicious nutritious vegan food gets created in massive pots over camp stoves, love is spread in a hurry, hugs and tears and anger and rawness are expressed so openly and honestly, as a safe space is created for these emotions to be heard.

It's so interesting, embarking for a second time on an Otesha cycling and performing tour. It's an experience that already is and will continue to be entirely different then my last, though there is one similarity. The intentions of folks who show up are generally the same.

People who sign up for Otesha are interested in experimenting in group living, in dedicating endless hours towards living in harmony, in riding their bikes for 8 hours at a time, in compromising and consenting to try new diets, to live in weird places, push their comfort boundaries, reach out to youth, and be totally silly. It's wonderful to see all of these characters come together, and, not knowing one another, determine how we are going to live, day in, day out with one another, how we'll do all the work that needs to be done, while, at the same time performing a play day in day out to hundreds of students, experimenting with our sustainable mobile community.

But were not necessarily a unique breed. Anyone can do these things, and there are hundreds others that are. One quality such people do share is that we all have intention. We all have desire.

As I go forward into this journey, I do so with some nervousness about what these next months will hold. But mostly, after just one week with my new wee family, I go forward with the knowledge that no matter what comes up for us over the next months, I am surrounded by loving support structures, like roots, that run deep deep into the ground.

We have a few more days here in Vancouver, when we'll put on our first few performances, see our audiences reactions, engage in some dialogue with them, and get to know exactly how this is all going to work. Then onwards towards Gibsons, Roberts Creek, and Sechelt. I hope you all are doing well, I think about each of you heaps, wishing that each of you feel the same level of love and support that I find myself feeling in this small Otesha community, forming here in Vancouver. I send some of this positive loving support your way...wherever you are.

reflections into the pool of discovery

Here I go again. As I jump into the pool of discovery once more, I do so with great anticipation, giddy excitement, fear and nervousness, lots of strong love, and glorious joy.

Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end. A quotation that in my life I continuously return to. I know you've heard it before, but I can't help but say it again, nothing can quite be fully known in life other then the fact that things will change...often.

As I embark on this next set of travels, I find myself reflecting on the past months. Working for Otesha has brought some wonderful people into my life, and granted me some experiences that I am super grateful for. I will have great memories of slow movements with a purple cast, crutch fall counts, co-op lunch's, potluck picnics, silly wedding showers, swing dancing in the halls, summitting mountains, secret handshakes and generally having a ball while getting a heck of a lot of work done at the same time. Yes, it's possible! I'm so excited to have gained experience working for a non-profit, and learning about some of the details. And now I get to embark on my second Otesha cycling and performing tour to top this awesome job off - living with 14 other people in a sustainable mobile community, eating, sleeping, performing, making decisions with them every day for two months. It's going to be an amazing ride...

I've had the chance to move into a beautiful home here in Ottawa, and connect with lovely people over food, gardening, and common interests. I've felt so at home and welcome here since the day I moved in. The garden has yielded a beautiful bounty, and once I was back on the bike, Ottawa was a good deal of fun to explore. Beyond Ottawa, since moving from Toronto, I still kept connections in Toronto strong, visiting often, and constantly being reminded how amazing the communities I'm part of in Toronto really are. Close passionate friends flowing with positive projects, creativity and alternative ways of living - so real, so inspiring.

As this month draws to a close, I can hardly believe how quickly my time went here. I'm so thrilled for my next adventures, but leaving Ontario has also meant saying goodbye to loved ones for a little while, and reflection again about why I'm adventuring, how blessed I am to be a part of some seriously supportive communities, what special people I have in my life, and how to really really enjoy where I am at in life at the present moment.

There's a lot of unknowns in life, mysteries of the universe that we can't really predict or understand. I am continually reminded of these mysteries, and I imagine that some quiet time on the bus in the coming days will help me understand why things are happening the way they are.

I'll leave you with a portion of this new song that I'm really lovin' right now...

Break some bread
The nights been blessed
With an never-endingness
But nonetheless
End come too soon

Love, kayla

Gardening is so much easier without a cast on your leg!

I've been playing in the dirt a lot these past weeks, checking in each day to see what's popped it's tender leaves out from beneath the soil.

It's wonderful what simple things can nourish such beautiful plants. Though things seem small now, it is such an amazement with the earth that I have - the process of nurturing a plant form seed all the way until it produces nourishing fruits for you to enjoy! The thrill of picking that fruit after watching and taking care of a plant for so long is a great feeling. You can taste the energy you've put into growing that food. I promise.

It's been great to move around the garden these day's without the cast on my leg. I feel like I've been making leaps and bounds, and my physical self is really healing well. My muscle certainly still has some growing to do, but it will happen, I'm confident for a full recovery, and have been plotting heaps of later day summer cycling adventures!

Back to the dirt. Today I helped some friends in their allotment garden, and tomorrow, I will be working in my own backyard, transplanting more of the tomato seedlings that I likely haven't hardened off well enough (read - gotten the plant used to the harsher outside world) and though many gardeners stress the importance of this step, I always seem to slack a little on this one. I just get excited for my little babies to lay out roots in the earth, rather in those restricting pots.

Now that I am back cycling, I've been able to explore Ottawa a bit more, the bike paths are beauty - covered with deciduous trees, fresh, and full o' bugs that lovingly fly right into your mouth as you speedily sing cycle your way beside the river. Ah, the joy of a bicycle.

Happy summertime strolls, rides, gardens, edibles, and swims to you!

a new city, a broken ankle, missin' my bicycles, and springtime!

The day I moved into my new home in Ottawa, my roommate had her home all ready for me to make it my home too. The first day at work, I was sung to in choir like fashion by my 7 "friend-leagues". It was nice to feel this welcoming attitude from both the home and work front, as I moved to this new city and job all with a broken ankle.

I'm grateful for the folks that have welcomed me with open arms since moving here to Ottawa. Yet, it still hasn't been easy. It's strange for me, normally buzzing with energy, going from work, to volunteering, to social event, to house meeting, to cooking a delicious meal, to go back and forth from work on the same short bus route, not having every night filled with commitments. But even without commitments, I've managed to go to a couple social outings, and have had some wonderful friends and family visit me!

I've been trying to take it slow. Move slowly, relax lots, stretch some, read books, cook simple meals, stopping on benches for breaks while walking. It's different then what I'm used to, but it's definitely what my body is in need of right now.

Might I mention the feeling of solidarity.

Being on crutches has opened my eyes more to life with a disability. Though this disability is temporary and very minor in comparison to others, it has been interesting to see what it feels like to have to call on people for help (all the time), to feel eyes on you all the time, faces frowning with pity, to just feel so slow compared to others that march past you in their rushed way. I can't claim to know what it is like to have a permanent disability, but I can at least claim to know a little bit what it feels like to be set apart as a minority - something I have not often felt before as a privileged, able bodied, white person. And the solidarity I've felt and experienced with folks with canes or in wheelchairs, as we board the lowered bus and sit in the front seats, and they send a knowing smile my way, expressing solidarity. Makes me feel understood, makes them feel understood, even if just a bit.

And now an ode to my bicycles.

Dear poppy. I miss your fast slick ways, your shiny red look, the way we become one when I clip into your pedals. I miss the feeling of power and speed that I have as I ride you across the city... And Bernice. You are just such a hard core beast of a beautiful bicycle. I appreciate all the snowy rides we had this past winter, and I'm sorry for all the oil I just keep throwing on you, but it was better then the sting of salt right? I hope your breaks are okay after this hard winter... I am looking forward to when I can finally explore this new city with you both...feel the wind in my hair (below my helmet of course) the freedom of coming and going when I please when I have you to depend on...I'll show you both the beautiful river paths of Ottawa Poppy and Bernice; soon, real soon!

Spring is finally feeling like it might be here in Ottawa. I'm still planning to garden a bunch this summer, the home that I've moved into has wonderful garden space. I have oodles of tomato plants on my windowsill, some eggplant, some spagetti squash! I've already planted some greens outside (they can withstand cooler temperatures) and just planted out some peas this evening (after an exhilirating paddle on the Rideau river - I went with my roommate, her partner, and another of their friends! I'm so glad I live with people - instant friends!) And, I bought fiddleheads today! A sure sign of new life in spring...

One big thing I've learned from this broken ankle, this move to a new city: although I really don't like to take things slow, and not do very much, it's okay to.

Reflections on change

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end."

The quote that I assigned as the slogan for my blog back in University has many times before and after that come to mind as a descriptive reality for me. Once again, as I launch into a new chapter of my life by moving on from my life and work in Toronto for now, I am reflecting on the wonderful things that I am going to be infused less regularly with in Ottawa; favourite places in my neighbourhood, lovely gatherings and events with my community of people, the farmers market where I recognize friends in the hood, volunteering for a wonderfully fun organization, and gardening another season in my way productive Toronto back yard. Though some of the locations and events I'll be missing, I definitely know that the relationships that I've had the opportunity to nourish over the past 19 months in Toronto will live on well into the future. Those people are too special to ever forget, too easy to make time for, and just plain wonderful. I'll be having some fun hosting in Ottawa, and visiting Toronto this summer, that's for certain.

The new beginning that I'll be moving on to is very exciting as well, I'll be working with a fun, silly, dedicated group of people for an organization I deeply identify with.

It's just unfortunate that I'm a little less excited for this move now that I'm down a functional leg. I'm having to learn what it means to have a small disability. It will be harder then normal to garden, to socialize and to explore a new city without riding my beautiful bicycle around town. But alas. Things could be far worse. I could be incapacitated all together. I keep reminding myself of this. I'm keeping things in perspective - I will heal, and will heal by June if all goes as the doctor has said. In time for major cycling and camping and gardening season! All the same, it will be a challenging move for me...but perhaps I've been given this challenge for a reason, perhaps I'm meant to slow a bit, meant to feel lucky, meant to feel greatful for all the wonderful health I've had so far in my life, greatful for all the wonderful people and things I have in my life.

For the health I've had, the experiences I've had, for the people in my life I love most. I love you, I'm greatful for you, you are special.

Where is the most sustainable place to live: a big city? spread suburbia? farming country?

I often question where the most sustainable life can be lived in Canada. Maybe in the centre of an urban city, what about suburbia, or in the country living off the land? In my opinion, I'd rank suburban life at the bottom of the sustainability potential, as it is usually a life of large homes, spread out utility services, dependency on cars, shopping, dining, and entertainment predominantly happens at big box, big-business multi-national venues. Living in a big city means that there are many people, with many different interests. Because there is groups large enough interested in unique things, that wouldn't likely survive in a suburban environment, stores, shop owners, and community centres cater to these unique niche groups of desires. This means that farmers markets abound, a celebration of local food and community that just wouldn't be as feasible in every suburban neighbourhood as people are more spread out, and so, less people per area would show up to the markets. Living in a city means that almost everywhere (and I can speak here for Toronto only...) you are a walk away from little shops and restaurants that are often locally owned. Further, living in Toronto means that it's often more of a hassle to drive then to take transit, walk or cycle. But of course, there is a whole other group of city dwellers who don't see these things I'm speaking of, and instead live the city life quite differently... And then there's the thought of living in the country, where you can potentially live off the land completely. I've never lived in the country, so am unsure just how sustainable it actually can be, but have always been interested to try it out, farming and living in harmony with the land. So, where can the most sustainable life be led? I don't know. But I do know that there are tons of choices that we can make every day, no matter where we live our lives, that can contribute towards environmental conservation, local economies, political and social justice. You just have to make that choice. Cities are often a place where something happens for everyone in a big way. That means that where there is one person interested in gardening, there will be many (like for instance - Seedy Sunday that I attended today, which so many other folks in Toronto also attended to exchange seeds, to talk about seedlings, garden plans, worm poop, and growing yummy food in community spaces, backyards, or appartment balconies!) But it's also a place where some people seem always to be consuming - food, culture, music, art, sport, material goods. Sometimes in a healthy way, other times, not. And so I wonder...where can the sustainable life be truely lived in practice?

Wintertime warmth - memories from summer - dried

It is a chilly one out there today, and it will likely be chilly again tomorrow. Oh winter. As much as I really try to love this time of year - when things get blanketed in white, when kids dress up in rolly polly snowsuits to go out and play, when baking something in the oven just seems like a must, and tumbling down a hill on a toboggan seems an ageless kidish delight - I still struggle with winter. I miss going outside for a quick walk because it's too hot inside, riding my bike without suiting up in layers. Though there is a homey, cozy feeling that I grow to love in winter, I think my favourite part of winter, is seeing winter melt away to spring. I do love the transition of the seasons. But were not there quite yet!

And so, I drink tea. Warming right to the core, I love breathing in the hot mist of a warm cuppa something refreshing, something soothing, something delicious, something healthful, something healing. Most of all, I love enjoying tea from the garden. Herbs and flowers that seem to be out of control in the height of summertime (oh that creepy mint!) I am so very thankful come January when I am able to enjoy them.

During the spring planting of my backyard garden in Toronto, one of my roommates who shortly after moved out, planted a tea garden! I was excited at this prospect, and loved seeing the chamomile, orange mint, lemon balm, calendula and lavender get planted (oh and the sunflowers, which got amazingly tall and attracted such beautiful bumbly bees!) The tea garden looked beautiful as it grew and grew. Pretty soon, it was time to start harvesting, and hanging the herbs to dry for teas.

On a dry day, preferably not the day after a rainstorm, I'd cut the herb or flower or stem at a reasonable spot at the base of the stem, never taking the whole plant, and tie a small bunch together with some twine. I'd hang it upside down in our sunroom from nails that I tacked into the wall (any dryish spot should work, garages and closed in porches seem to be good). Because I knew where the plants were coming from and what was put on it (i.e. no herbicides, but maybe some unknown raccoon pee? eek!) I've never bothered washing my herbs before hanging to dry. I let the herb dry until it's completely crispy, and then I take it outside and crush it off of it's stem with my hands, and store it in a jar until it's tea time! My most abundantly dried herbs this past summer for tea were mint (which has a tendency to be invasive, so it was great to cut it back on a regular basis), raspberry leaf, and sage. Yum!

It's been fun to have a few herbs to mix together to find a flavour and feeling that suits my mood.

My favourite tea mix thus far from the garden:

-peppermint (calms the stomach and helps with gas and bloating, a source of magnesium, folate, calcium, iron, B2)

-lemon balm (known digestive aid, relaxing and calming, anti-oxidant rich herb)

-stinging nettle (this one I got from one of my farmers at the market, I haven't gone out to harvest this one from places around the city, as it is commonly found. I'm still a little scared of the stinging bit... it's rich in vitamins A, C, iron, potassium, manganese and calcium, and is often used to soothe sore muscles and joints, and urinary tract issues)

-raspberry leaf (rich in vitamins C, A, E, B complex, calcium and phosphorus; known for settling nauseated stomachs, diarrhea, menstrual cramps)

Break up and Mix herbs in equal ratios, pack tightly into a tea ball or other loose leaf tea contraption, and let steep for as long as you can, I always leave my tea ball in as I drink. Play with the ratios for different tastes, health benefits, and moods.

Other things that I dried from my backyard garden this past summer for teas were dandelion root, sage, chamomile, and lavender. I also dried some thyme, rosemary, hot peppers, onion and bean seeds quite successfully. Next summer I want to wander to some places in and around the city with my Newcomb's flower guide and hunt for some burdock (quite common and easily found - you may know the plant as containing pesky burs, it's best harvested in the fall time for it's root that has many health benefits), rose petals, rosehips, cedar tips and stinging nettle for tea purposes. Ohhh wild drinkables (and wild edibles...more to come on that later) how I love thee. Do you dry anything from your neighbourhood or garden for tea?

Tea is wonderful when it's cold outside, and I want to stay warm, to the core, to the soul. There's nothing like a big mug of garden tea, and a blanket to make winter feel a lot warmer, as dreams of summer sunshine come flowing back to me.

Intentions

I can't even count the number of times that I considered, even committed to putting energy into this blog again. But until this moment, I just haven't had quite the determination, I haven't been making the time to write. I used to say that it was because I didn't have anything interesting to write about in comparison to my blogging from Inuvik, Otesha, SE Asia and Greece. But that is so far from the truth.

I moved to Toronto in September 2009, slowly, and sadly. Soon though as I connected, discovered, explored, experienced, I realized that I have had so much to share. For some reason, I thought readers wouldn't care. I've concluded that maybe I don't care if readers don't care. I'm hopeful that you'll read, hopeful that you'll learn something, and hopeful that you enjoy the words, pictures, stories, and information, and inspiration that I will post on this blog. Regardless, this blog will be an outlet, a venue without a set audience where I can freely share what excites me, potentially create action, discussion or inspiration, and have fun while doing it. Dear readers, I hope you absorb what you may read on this blog. I am committing to writing at least twice a month. I will endeavor for four. I'll share with you a new thing I learned or saw, an issue I'm interested in, a recipe that's delicious, an adventure I had, or a gardening experience I had.

Perhaps you'll share in my excitement, but perhaps you won't. Whatever the case I hope that you will read this blog when the time suits, and let me know what you think, comment or email and let me know what you think.

I'm ending with an intention for my day; it was the intention that was set by the fine people at the Move dance gathering last night (described as a meditative, playful, transformative, and ecstatic dance event, created for the sheer love of dance) and I want to live it again today: Feel.