tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81620752806401430462024-03-13T03:28:24.341-07:00Deeper Into the WorldStephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07973396521617673418noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-10514799892014316922017-10-02T14:15:00.000-07:002017-10-02T14:15:06.199-07:00New Chapter, Old Manure<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="79qv9" data-offset-key="ci2om-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: -0.12px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ci2om-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfmss7_6RSosHzBCI52yRDPgbaT9uYH_IaoRsCVQrPLx6tOYuyrSC_gw7amkCyeZa3mVBjZ2bkcPTA0Lcbj6DFLDr1NrFPtdZyS0rfTaPDJgxLqG-0uFrNir9TTPDOUKAEAtAhQl0a8wY/s1600/2017-09-29+10.27.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfmss7_6RSosHzBCI52yRDPgbaT9uYH_IaoRsCVQrPLx6tOYuyrSC_gw7amkCyeZa3mVBjZ2bkcPTA0Lcbj6DFLDr1NrFPtdZyS0rfTaPDJgxLqG-0uFrNir9TTPDOUKAEAtAhQl0a8wY/s400/2017-09-29+10.27.54.jpg" width="400" /></a><span data-offset-key="ci2om-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">There are so many photos I could start with for posting on this new chapter... so why not start with an image that represents the decay and renewal of life? Behold- COMPOST. 4-year-old composted manure gold one story high. Patiently waiting for the field. This pile sits on the land we're renting, lovingly collected by the sweet landlady who grew up on the property, on Haudenosaunee territory in Niagara. It's the result of the love and care she lavishes on her sweet llamas, alpacas, and teensy horses. Organic and healthy and vibrant. I am in no way a farmer and would never pretend I am, but I aspire to learn and grow along with our tiny plot on this farm, my sweat and most likely my blood offered up in service to the plants, which are being grown for my community to eat, to make medicines, and to beautify life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.12px;">I have always been told and appreciate that it's best to grow your own </span>plants/food,<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.12px;"> and make your own medicines. It's a lovely sentiment and we can do that in a multitude of ways from a pot sitting in the light on a sill, wildcrafting ethically, or joining a community garden. I have reached this point in my life- right now- where access to this land and this lifeway is a privilege I need to acknowledge. I want to, and aim to, facilitate this connection for those who don't have:</span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="79qv9" data-offset-key="aq465-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: -0.12px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="aq465-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;">
<ul>
<li>the time (because they work 2 jobs to keep marginally healthy food on the table,) </li>
<li>space (because they live in an area where they don't have access to clean/healthy land,) </li>
<li>energy (because they give so much of themselves and serve their community in other ways,) </li>
<li>or assets (be they financial or otherwise, because learning this knowledge and accessing the space/time/energy/knowledge to learn and grow sometimes cost a pretty penny.)</li>
</ul>
<div>
I'm doing this in a few ways- first, I'll be starting a small-scale organic farm using traditional Indigenous agricultural methods (some might call this "Permaculture" and "Biodynamics") this spring to grow medicines for my community, my own practice that serves my community, and to support a few small local/bioregional medicine makers and healers who don't have access to or time for medicine growing/making because they're so busy serving our communities. Second, I am co-developing a mobile herbal clinic to provide access to herbal medicine to underserved communities in the Niagara/Hamilton region. Third, I am dedicating a portion of the farm's production to the Niagara Farm Project, a local organic collective of urban farmers who produce food for the Niagara community (who I am also writing a manual on herbal gardening for in the coming months.) There's so much more coming on the Ethnobotany/Anthropology side, but that's for another post. For now, this will do. It's a start!</div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16329669972784752273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-86714896738528843422015-12-14T19:16:00.001-08:002015-12-14T19:16:30.038-08:00Annual Catch-upIt's been almost a year since my last post, which should say something about the way life has been going lately. Breakneck speed mixed with bouts of freedom, revelations, and tons of change.I've interwoven some photos here from Life this year.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrheRW1b5fGpF-TsMZ2uRRSPaKbL560CDUmAuKoEDMrLr79KIVNG1EFA8Odq-duz9IHzNDfTI2eXsAEbkShJuNT-mZdydZOGPOmKuLYspHf2hI9yMt3f0TbLN88s9YYgjVhqjWxUgN-DQ/s1600/2015-05-23+16.03.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrheRW1b5fGpF-TsMZ2uRRSPaKbL560CDUmAuKoEDMrLr79KIVNG1EFA8Odq-duz9IHzNDfTI2eXsAEbkShJuNT-mZdydZOGPOmKuLYspHf2hI9yMt3f0TbLN88s9YYgjVhqjWxUgN-DQ/s400/2015-05-23+16.03.14.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traditional Medicine training- field school.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Noel and I hit a really tough spot last winter just as I
was starting to really get into running. We've been through the gamut
and after some amazing therapy (individual) and honest, nothing-to-lose
talk, compromises, and recommittments, we are stronger than ever in a
REAL way. I'm sitting next to him right now and am feeling blessed to
have him in my life.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDubo1ihqyGsh5flsspsW7v0kDqNL1TEHatXatgLqXr0HBEkb2ozGxglqHk1TYNRAf75UP2aXW5oZi7NXZpd6eD8vfUjdL3g0s3laoK19aD44ExxDjj9DCPNnB4fna27ENELi__E_IcQs/s1600/2015-12-08+20.37.28.mp4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDubo1ihqyGsh5flsspsW7v0kDqNL1TEHatXatgLqXr0HBEkb2ozGxglqHk1TYNRAf75UP2aXW5oZi7NXZpd6eD8vfUjdL3g0s3laoK19aD44ExxDjj9DCPNnB4fna27ENELi__E_IcQs/s640/2015-12-08+20.37.28.mp4" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doing the Duck Dance at the 2015 Indigenous Studies program Social.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVO3yrEdiSnER8ZKATT3DnxL3ZAd4337oFpRKRyLlt3A2XlSOVYvN-F5gTAU6rPu8FU223iqUnO367QAKlxEcjZJrq7osP8GGGRTCuGtnUl6dc44JCijnrtIL4jJlNVloryalrRDe5das/s1600/2015-11-22+09.55.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVO3yrEdiSnER8ZKATT3DnxL3ZAd4337oFpRKRyLlt3A2XlSOVYvN-F5gTAU6rPu8FU223iqUnO367QAKlxEcjZJrq7osP8GGGRTCuGtnUl6dc44JCijnrtIL4jJlNVloryalrRDe5das/s400/2015-11-22+09.55.43.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My messy living room.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I stopped running in the spring when my Achilles became too strained to
withstand a short run. RICE'ing it doesn't help. I never completed my No
BS Run Club half marathon and feel like a failure. But I know I'm not,
I'm just like every other person who became enchanted with running in
the honeymoon phase but didn't make it a sustainable part of my life.
Now I'm dealing with some really intense chronic pain, major
fibromyalgia flare ups, and two injured knees (more on that in a bit)
that has me really rethinking what exercise looks like, and has proven
to me how important movement is to a healthy body. I'm starting physio
as soon as exams are over.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpds83DJkYM28FeihuxgQbLfn-nhjNN7sgH-3_k36kET9b8g1NtC-tyRqcX0hlsuIwJqG4sc3oJK2Lk-lHsEyz8Ss6x2xdecohaFe_Oanw_hYrqBqRDWi-WZca6PXj1EU0iQ9Mp7jfYUA/s1600/2015-11-16+13.30.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpds83DJkYM28FeihuxgQbLfn-nhjNN7sgH-3_k36kET9b8g1NtC-tyRqcX0hlsuIwJqG4sc3oJK2Lk-lHsEyz8Ss6x2xdecohaFe_Oanw_hYrqBqRDWi-WZca6PXj1EU0iQ9Mp7jfYUA/s400/2015-11-16+13.30.45.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Aunts.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgTCwcya215AjbzlYUhwI-IJKmWG3NlABoREAG5-R4glRIYC8ZU0s_JJxvvjTzooiwr4Aj0zPSWXsMyL-rN7T8j4ZD44yN5bS5ifhbYTb1QsP5kwriXo_eaz0rqqoa1N4ehwnWIKvSog/s1600/2015-10-28+17.38.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgTCwcya215AjbzlYUhwI-IJKmWG3NlABoREAG5-R4glRIYC8ZU0s_JJxvvjTzooiwr4Aj0zPSWXsMyL-rN7T8j4ZD44yN5bS5ifhbYTb1QsP5kwriXo_eaz0rqqoa1N4ehwnWIKvSog/s400/2015-10-28+17.38.08.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite tree on my running route- I imagine I'm passing under a dinosaur.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"Exams?", you say? Yes. Exams. After finishing my Chartered Herbalist
diploma in June (yay!) and my first year of Traditional Medicine
training (double yay!) I decided to try out other avenues of
edumacation. So I enrolled at McMaster University for a summer
Anthropology class and fell in love. I researched and fought hard to get
my financial life in alignment with full time school, and on September
8th I left a full time working life for full time school. It's been the
hardest transition of my life outside of, well, the last hardest
transition in my life. Pick one, they've all been hard. There are no
easy transitions, usually. But then, if they were easy, they'd be kind
of boring, innit?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihX54_htNwsy12BzCXltWfLbuvP9sFqwPnvTKLKxVMX1PCelBJsu0o32idXMCOu__xqvyxs0bzWA-orHDjBFI7acQ-5Zpegxp9Uyyjk2IZp9A_VufsIQiRl7IgFDFjIpcqSNhaXsMVxeI/s1600/2015-10-24+19.38.59.mp4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihX54_htNwsy12BzCXltWfLbuvP9sFqwPnvTKLKxVMX1PCelBJsu0o32idXMCOu__xqvyxs0bzWA-orHDjBFI7acQ-5Zpegxp9Uyyjk2IZp9A_VufsIQiRl7IgFDFjIpcqSNhaXsMVxeI/s640/2015-10-24+19.38.59.mp4" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emmadog at Dundas Valley.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggB8V8_U1g4EryHEghJZ9oAJYNvdYHCeL40x-z9_Eu3uEbELTM0cW0-B1y6yyT3U83Ml-2dtoGwYi00yXdymuv32JDdn5KZFiTWmuIxLSIhhsXAtCO86DBtyBiMCttJhnIHjNE0_jHR6s/s1600/2015-10-16+18.18.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggB8V8_U1g4EryHEghJZ9oAJYNvdYHCeL40x-z9_Eu3uEbELTM0cW0-B1y6yyT3U83Ml-2dtoGwYi00yXdymuv32JDdn5KZFiTWmuIxLSIhhsXAtCO86DBtyBiMCttJhnIHjNE0_jHR6s/s400/2015-10-16+18.18.52.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruby.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Amidst the beginning of school, on Day 2 actually, life took an
unexpected turn. I hurt my knee at school, bad enough to have to go to
the hospital (hence the two injured knees) and Noel raced home on his
bike to pick up our car and drive to the bus stop to come get me. On his
way there he felt sort of odd, arm tingling, chest-tighteningly odd.
Heart attack odd. Basically, Noel stole my knee thunder with a mild
myocardial infarction. He was a trooper through the whole ordeal, and is
now on the road to better health with no need for surgery, thankfully. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaM44jD8ij_vEkz-tXgrQKb_rMX_9yZAY8oJN1SAyV3dmrhf4QhshgXoZyQ4RhVL784N6j795yOtzf5Sk8NIgcRPhwN5m1U2uQnPd2VSyYWQ81biu6mrzb17cGSViymbQETTOELlneK24/s1600/2015-10-16+18.16.57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaM44jD8ij_vEkz-tXgrQKb_rMX_9yZAY8oJN1SAyV3dmrhf4QhshgXoZyQ4RhVL784N6j795yOtzf5Sk8NIgcRPhwN5m1U2uQnPd2VSyYWQ81biu6mrzb17cGSViymbQETTOELlneK24/s400/2015-10-16+18.16.57.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desmond.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIjmDwBU0J5OLsr-K7JrNzOAn4ObDy-I5dXW3OuKoRshAN2ha9A3VhNvI4BpUDaltYaSSwxw0VtAhmuKNdnUntIlk06nhyphenhyphenszy-LEsOUwFZ66gRGWtF3gamXyV3SkiUzmPkg006E3n7Go/s1600/2015-10-16+18.18.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIjmDwBU0J5OLsr-K7JrNzOAn4ObDy-I5dXW3OuKoRshAN2ha9A3VhNvI4BpUDaltYaSSwxw0VtAhmuKNdnUntIlk06nhyphenhyphenszy-LEsOUwFZ66gRGWtF3gamXyV3SkiUzmPkg006E3n7Go/s400/2015-10-16+18.18.30.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loki.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's now December and I'm in the throes of writing exams. I'm pretty
much procrastinating by writing this post, but what the hell? It's been
almost a year and I can't leave this blog empty for an entire year! I
know no one reads this, it's mostly my own accountability to myself and
sort of a fun expression to get out my thinkythoughts, so I don't feel
bad. Sometimes it's nice to see who I was a year or two ago and see how
much I've changed, what's important in life at that moment, and how
things evolve.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PID_y-7GQdd__I2lFeiQ-bzXzIv6QzRJ6te7e3513J9dokYoyZDqF0JiLdAYlS9qdwKTFOCr9d9pIK9R5JlKJ_Npwyw0af7U2pOtr-cv9dQhUzVvIfYJzOo0lYYmZN8Kxq0SFDAjgvE/s1600/2015-10-16+18.12.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PID_y-7GQdd__I2lFeiQ-bzXzIv6QzRJ6te7e3513J9dokYoyZDqF0JiLdAYlS9qdwKTFOCr9d9pIK9R5JlKJ_Npwyw0af7U2pOtr-cv9dQhUzVvIfYJzOo0lYYmZN8Kxq0SFDAjgvE/s400/2015-10-16+18.12.35.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emmadog cursing me for my impulse purchase. She's totally giving me #slightsideeye</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjugOO1OXe2adxMq32fE_jo5uOoJ3KR4kyB4aP8FJ2xOe1PQtGhQoOb8OGph29pmHUc-PiRmfkJxX3p4TkHCNGqCQ2styqNyW3Hh4mckPQLbFqxBlf8jKJoxBdF8X3SgYsloNGK7PQC57A/s1600/2015-10-10+12.45.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjugOO1OXe2adxMq32fE_jo5uOoJ3KR4kyB4aP8FJ2xOe1PQtGhQoOb8OGph29pmHUc-PiRmfkJxX3p4TkHCNGqCQ2styqNyW3Hh4mckPQLbFqxBlf8jKJoxBdF8X3SgYsloNGK7PQC57A/s640/2015-10-10+12.45.17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where I spent most of my spring, summer, and fall this year. My favourite back yard.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_JUoz9VH91tS1E76ykdiIrd3a6HKlONGsmJel0g_9evIVnUamV86midJA7bTEnsoV15igqsGyq8WdxtTDNE4RVmGM_bZj6FnOvocVQx0IgJOcYOA0CV3sJBbfVAnukpxwsYf4id6e7ys/s1600/2015-10-10+20.09.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_JUoz9VH91tS1E76ykdiIrd3a6HKlONGsmJel0g_9evIVnUamV86midJA7bTEnsoV15igqsGyq8WdxtTDNE4RVmGM_bZj6FnOvocVQx0IgJOcYOA0CV3sJBbfVAnukpxwsYf4id6e7ys/s400/2015-10-10+20.09.22.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lillers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXk3ykTY54E121jHu-lDyS-iscaixEeQCQRONZ2xCOhrXZeUMnaNtOnpL1mUO8hjmblCU1KbD0pV_rhpzeSGRZUxPQFPmqSWsxXgpxmRTZdDQ9AcXxewHbbfZrQpzEgWgVEJaClnSovk/s1600/2015-09-10+16.01.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXk3ykTY54E121jHu-lDyS-iscaixEeQCQRONZ2xCOhrXZeUMnaNtOnpL1mUO8hjmblCU1KbD0pV_rhpzeSGRZUxPQFPmqSWsxXgpxmRTZdDQ9AcXxewHbbfZrQpzEgWgVEJaClnSovk/s400/2015-09-10+16.01.26.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Aunts visiting Noel in the Cardic unit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQnmufjAD8vwRCFRbHAwx1y-1fOhnkzYQNcTVMsxzuHKabJsRoDYTk4FT_2AyTgZ_GrGVNhyphenhyphen93wTK26ySJWn9IhAtlVoXk7H-Paaxlax3fepz7euGPVlp_bed5VDlI5mgN0f7IErSicw/s1600/2015-09-05+13.31.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQnmufjAD8vwRCFRbHAwx1y-1fOhnkzYQNcTVMsxzuHKabJsRoDYTk4FT_2AyTgZ_GrGVNhyphenhyphen93wTK26ySJWn9IhAtlVoXk7H-Paaxlax3fepz7euGPVlp_bed5VDlI5mgN0f7IErSicw/s400/2015-09-05+13.31.06.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My life for the past 3.5 months.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtKSWbfbZgT8ho4ZdIGOkZWv-t84QGotR0oKJvepkMklN0XXJa-OmEk8nluBuuxvXSckGwVfX_ZcHWIpUKfVSIehH6yenQOJpIUIGCs2QEPhrZNmOyDdCIz8wGghr_rHnBcNU1BnTjx8/s1600/2015-08-29+21.55.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtKSWbfbZgT8ho4ZdIGOkZWv-t84QGotR0oKJvepkMklN0XXJa-OmEk8nluBuuxvXSckGwVfX_ZcHWIpUKfVSIehH6yenQOJpIUIGCs2QEPhrZNmOyDdCIz8wGghr_rHnBcNU1BnTjx8/s640/2015-08-29+21.55.41.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Light painting at Turkey in the Woods.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuAvAK72DTSRHEnsvOOleLvQlA7ZWq56DsuN8wqLaVm2wByG7zMnL_5ceqI5QZ3_hV9rZJi03RWq859-ebPMIEim_WoCOmb5x7nXnhUxjhY2ncLsGtH25Rv_evPm-wZwsQTPatpoNx5OQ/s1600/2015-08-29+21.15.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuAvAK72DTSRHEnsvOOleLvQlA7ZWq56DsuN8wqLaVm2wByG7zMnL_5ceqI5QZ3_hV9rZJi03RWq859-ebPMIEim_WoCOmb5x7nXnhUxjhY2ncLsGtH25Rv_evPm-wZwsQTPatpoNx5OQ/s400/2015-08-29+21.15.26.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Epic bonfire at TITW.</b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><b>I have a few hopes for 2016. </b></i><br />
<br />
<b>Hope #1</b>: I recently decided to reduce my courseload to part time
and take another full time job, mainly because I love my home and don't
want to lose it. That, and I am totally BROKE and need to make more than
nothing, which is what I'm making right now. I shouldn't say that, I do
get funding through my band (Oneida, SixNay all the way!) and it's
super helpful, but it's not enough to pay the bills. I just accepted a
position with a cancer hospital as their first ever Aboriginal Community
Outreach coordinator. It pays well, has benefits, and most importantly-
they want to support my education, so I can still move towards that
end. It's an important decision for me. This is the only position I
would have said yes to- mainly because it deals with cancer and ethnic
disparities in health. I hope that the work I do prevents what happened
to my mother and my family to some other family. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVEnMxwZomdT5h0mVH31ldwFElMEn9vr1qsACLW3SLjtlh3u0cGtVFdaNG4F7A4DKZ_x6ZAy8_SZSuHAu9Za0zJqn6mKGD5f1qcCJaBLSq58_BBaRodXjLH8YNzEpMr5B9pC-1zw-c6c/s1600/2015-08-15+11.04.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVEnMxwZomdT5h0mVH31ldwFElMEn9vr1qsACLW3SLjtlh3u0cGtVFdaNG4F7A4DKZ_x6ZAy8_SZSuHAu9Za0zJqn6mKGD5f1qcCJaBLSq58_BBaRodXjLH8YNzEpMr5B9pC-1zw-c6c/s640/2015-08-15+11.04.34.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite tiny store in Vermont- the East Warren Community Market, just down the road from our old place.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Hope #2</b>: When I lived in the Red Light District in downtown
Hamilton I became familiar with several Ladies of the Night. I saw them
come and go, do the Crack Dance on the corner for more hours than anyone
should have to work, and disappear altogether to an unknown, uncertain,
and most likely dangerous future. I want to give back to these women.
They may be damaged, they may be shells of themselves, but they deserve
love and compassion, just like every other human being. It's so easy to
write them off, slut-shame them, and believe that we're somehow better
than them. My hope is to bring them a small spark of peace and
gratitude. I'm enrolling to volunteer to being clean needles, water,
condoms, and food to these women, and to be armed with compassion and
resources for safe space and respite. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwlktPI_QLTAghwik56caNcvksQuqTUnuvBA5BEezJhQFvOGIiqroDC585TUQccrrShtBZf7z2KHGy67_eIrsidFh7BQ0wxP-4NCe9KHtP7Bsx-rJduTc9YXLdyrGEDwrDk_2rhK7ESxc/s1600/2015-08-12+16.37.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwlktPI_QLTAghwik56caNcvksQuqTUnuvBA5BEezJhQFvOGIiqroDC585TUQccrrShtBZf7z2KHGy67_eIrsidFh7BQ0wxP-4NCe9KHtP7Bsx-rJduTc9YXLdyrGEDwrDk_2rhK7ESxc/s640/2015-08-12+16.37.45.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FUNdy Bay summer vaycay.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Hope #3</b>: I'm 40 years old and have thought about
the idea of children for, well, pretty much my entire life. I had 3
miscarriages with my ex and decided that was enough and that I would
stay childless by choice. Since we split up I have thought about the
potential for Noel and I to raise a family, but he's been snipped, so I
sort of gave up on it again. I finally have a job that offers benefits,
IVF included, and we're seriously considering it. Or adoption. I want to
try IVF first, but we might end up adopting anyway. My hope is that by
the end of 2016 I have made a decision and followed through on making it
happen (or not). <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Mabcy1OlfTkeQWaJDpGbM2ck6QrRwAxpBsWsEA3xUKFOHmRKgzLhxD9oqIkr6ZvNFWGm-0e4xNoyuzRxksV3YD4YhOy1HlUuZNc2YRotDgPtn5DskgpX0u7BtffGmCPhC_gF4BMjQGg/s1600/2015-08-12+12.12.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Mabcy1OlfTkeQWaJDpGbM2ck6QrRwAxpBsWsEA3xUKFOHmRKgzLhxD9oqIkr6ZvNFWGm-0e4xNoyuzRxksV3YD4YhOy1HlUuZNc2YRotDgPtn5DskgpX0u7BtffGmCPhC_gF4BMjQGg/s640/2015-08-12+12.12.49.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shrooms (or something!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA4dWLRzRnf4n0sqGIzYIGIAMVM0mp9kxtvuxqJlqRc7wUA9u0p1QWeJflSDvJ5pZz9ImZM7b5dIFR0N_Th84kg3F890qVJ_-_1LQ9mhvkcrEctxo1jwF1V1SG-O85LeLS7A_6cWDboMY/s1600/2015-08-11+10.47.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA4dWLRzRnf4n0sqGIzYIGIAMVM0mp9kxtvuxqJlqRc7wUA9u0p1QWeJflSDvJ5pZz9ImZM7b5dIFR0N_Th84kg3F890qVJ_-_1LQ9mhvkcrEctxo1jwF1V1SG-O85LeLS7A_6cWDboMY/s640/2015-08-11+10.47.55.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emmadog being all Continental in Old Quebec City.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQZZjujHJA9C4mdD32-I-J62nBkb-DjBNqXJOZQ9MmFUqcG1po26Adtqe32ZfzEONNABvb6z6sfv97ofF4OLE_NLkiSr-fkJppmsu9ZDuBQKOJIw76vKOvf5NZccBwBMbsVsWW-HPeS04/s1600/2015-11-14+15.24.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQZZjujHJA9C4mdD32-I-J62nBkb-DjBNqXJOZQ9MmFUqcG1po26Adtqe32ZfzEONNABvb6z6sfv97ofF4OLE_NLkiSr-fkJppmsu9ZDuBQKOJIw76vKOvf5NZccBwBMbsVsWW-HPeS04/s640/2015-11-14+15.24.23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magoose- those LIPS!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8qVBG-tbJS0WAwxHyBV-LWSJg9IJVe9y2j_t388GvRc1gi9UN3XewZeGGVPiPMVAMa_AmSF2tGD3r0ZOZsa30vpKdSAFaBLHWpIUn3e-SGMbdKNYmPnECEsebEr3tc2PqKFTnSNubbo/s1600/2015-10-24+15.20.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8qVBG-tbJS0WAwxHyBV-LWSJg9IJVe9y2j_t388GvRc1gi9UN3XewZeGGVPiPMVAMa_AmSF2tGD3r0ZOZsa30vpKdSAFaBLHWpIUn3e-SGMbdKNYmPnECEsebEr3tc2PqKFTnSNubbo/s400/2015-10-24+15.20.49.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I played with purple a lot this year.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
That's about it. I've procrastinated long enough. Happy solstice, happy Christmas, happy Hannukah, and Happy New Year!</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16329669972784752273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-45401072037842420172015-01-07T19:09:00.001-08:002015-01-07T19:09:49.279-08:00Yep, That's Pretty Much What It Looked Like.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwh_SQgRJwayXC2jPmuH7eJ7Wr59534vUqkUkkUjUHFVp4TuzJ9fNzH3hzInvKzenPYf9FnPOOV-2pj6Tv2tEkITdlnkfAnEdJoxkxxLK2w9cwNSdUfDGmPWhyphenhyphenQeB3dq-5zldDF1ihVE/s1600/Randy-Snow-Suit-A-Christmas-Story.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwh_SQgRJwayXC2jPmuH7eJ7Wr59534vUqkUkkUjUHFVp4TuzJ9fNzH3hzInvKzenPYf9FnPOOV-2pj6Tv2tEkITdlnkfAnEdJoxkxxLK2w9cwNSdUfDGmPWhyphenhyphenQeB3dq-5zldDF1ihVE/s1600/Randy-Snow-Suit-A-Christmas-Story.jpg" height="400" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This is definitely a winter running Don't.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's -18C out there right now, which results to about -1F. A Polar Vortex (stop being dirty) has descended upon us in Southern Ontario. -1F equates to something I like to call "PFC": Pretty Fucking Cold. This has led to a deeply uncomfortable quandry, something I've always resisted, like going to the dentist, or hugging my ex mother in law: running in snow. What I've learned is it's best approached these things head on and as fast as possible, like ripping off a bandaid. I know, I know, I keep going on about running lately, but it's definitely the one thing I'm most consistent with in my life right now, aside from being consistently inconsistent. So, I give you: Running in PFC Weather.<br />
<br />
I've never run in weather this cold before, and used to judge anyone I saw traipsing along the darkened deep-winter city streets, be it alone or in packs, as deeply disturbed individuals (or, packs of crazy people running the streets in search of havoc to wreak). Nicole and Ryan, my running coaches for my 13.1 program, offered us a great group call last week during which we lamented the cold, making up all sorts of challenges and barriers to get out of it. They bravely and confidently volleyed each one with Awesome Solutions. Too icy? Wear Yax Trax! Too windy? Remember your balaclava! Snow too deep? There's always the treadmill! What I got out of it was: YOU CAN'T GET OUT OF IT, SO DON'T BOTHER TRYING. I didn't shell out cash and sign up for this to get out of it, so Monday morning I suited up in waaaay too many layers and stood bravely at the door, firmly believing that once opened, the wind and snow would suck me right outside.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOnxyEhL0dJwou7z_l9pRsmVg8TVxSwURaav5wKItWzErRoZp6UW9rfJIqWw39fAqfPR9_W_8zWEGzizKA06u39D2uQGzEejjyNKsqtlzuqqY63o2hkQxb4NQ7MPQUcIvKfvTj2-efg8/s1600/komedi_1420681915737_983.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOnxyEhL0dJwou7z_l9pRsmVg8TVxSwURaav5wKItWzErRoZp6UW9rfJIqWw39fAqfPR9_W_8zWEGzizKA06u39D2uQGzEejjyNKsqtlzuqqY63o2hkQxb4NQ7MPQUcIvKfvTj2-efg8/s1600/komedi_1420681915737_983.gif" height="326" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yep, that's pretty much what it looked like.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
5 minutes into it I realized I was dressed way too warm. Lesson 1 from Coach Ryan: dress like it's 15 degrees warmer than it actually is. I guess because I never run in 15 degree weather I wasn't sure what that looked like, but now I know!<br />
<br />
Some other winter running tips:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li><b>Where to run:</b> Run on the street as it's most likely plowed, unlike the inconsistently shoveled sidewalks of your lazy neighbors.</li>
<li><b>There Will Be Snot: </b>There is a hand signal that runners give to one another while out there on any day under 5 degrees Farenheit. It looks somewhat like doing a snot rocket. Or maybe that was just because that dude in the park forgot his tissues. Remember your tissues! (Now that I think of it, what was he running from, anyway?)</li>
<li><b>Wicked!</b> Wear wicking layers, like soft merino wool and synthetics, covered by a warm wind breaking shell.</li>
<li><b>Dry Them Bitches Up: </b>Your running shoes may get wet and slushy, freezing your feet into blocks of soggy ice. Be warned! You may feel compelled to dry your shoes over a heater, or a crackling fire, or a forced-air vent, but apparently that will fuck your shit up, so just crumple up some newspaper and put it right in the foot holes. That'll dry them bitches up.</li>
</ol>
<div>
I'm sure I'll learn more as the winter goes on, but for now, them's the tips. Maybe by the end of the season, after I've expended all my expendable income on new running gear, I'll do a fancy graphic-against-a-white-background thing and offer something of real value. I mainly wrote this post to use the new meme generator I found and to somehow involve my very favorite scene from National Lampoon's Summer Vacation. In my defense, it was crazy,</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16329669972784752273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-8509222140899111682015-01-01T21:24:00.000-08:002015-01-01T21:57:43.726-08:00EndorphineFunkCelebration<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg29Xp3d_rp0-ZSatyMHIMcjCkmX3hu2EADMfBYIIm9l4GSTvPQ0QAn7YupPr7jgw3MISADDRs9DY9Z5vnTH4L4KPiRgkK1bLBUUbd796V8cxLQ0wDjIGV5ryO00j4ra38JyW_xE6lvJnA/s1600/10882312_10153437488647678_5998183138454427341_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg29Xp3d_rp0-ZSatyMHIMcjCkmX3hu2EADMfBYIIm9l4GSTvPQ0QAn7YupPr7jgw3MISADDRs9DY9Z5vnTH4L4KPiRgkK1bLBUUbd796V8cxLQ0wDjIGV5ryO00j4ra38JyW_xE6lvJnA/s1600/10882312_10153437488647678_5998183138454427341_n.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Out with the old, in with the new.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I alluded to this in my last post, but I will say it out loud and proud right now: I'm riding the Crazy Train, and it's 13.1 miles of fucked up track. What that cryptic statement translates to is: I'm on week 4 of a 24 week training program which will culminate in my weary ass collectively running 13.1 miles with many other passengers on said Crazy Train- better known as a Half Marathon. Why, you may ask, would I put myself through the rigours of 6 workouts a week, for 24 weeks, only to run along side several other folks who are crazy enough to push themselves to collectively run from point A to point B thirteen point one miles away with absolutely no promise of a bag of fifties waiting for them at the end?<br />
<br />
Well, for lots of reasons, none of which are exciting or new. Personal demons, personal challenges, the proverbial Bucket List. Yada yada yada. <i>Deeper Into the World, right?</i> Basically, I feel called to do this, so here I am, a month into Doing It. I didn't wait for any special time, didn't wait for the New Year, I'm doing it one small step at a time. I've been learning a lot about making small forward progress.<br />
<br />
I think this will be the year of coming to terms with the Non Exciting Not So New Gently Used and Unspecial Life- and being OK with that. It's the year that I run along side many others, all running towards a somewhat meaningless goal of a finish line, all for our own reasons. Something in me feels that if I can even get through this training that I've won. Every time I complete a workout, fuck, every time I even break through the brick wall of apathy and get out of my head enough to get out there I. HAVE. WON.<br />
<br />
There's all this talk in the group that I'm training with (with the awesome Nicole Antoinette of a <a href="https://www.lifelessbullshit.com/half-marathon/" target="_blank">Life Less Bullshit</a>, many thanks to <a href="http://runportiarun.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Portia</a>) about music or no music? Music, for me, pushes me further. It constantly repeats in my ear to keep going, own that shit, be in my Self in that moment and celebrate the vibrant, dynamic, fluidity of my 39 year old body. Music is my own little cheering section and I've broken through many an obstacle because of the right mix. I, for one, will be listening to music (in a safe way) for most of my runs. I don't really care about etiquette or how it might affect my performance as an athlete- for me, music gets It done.<br />
<br />
Lately I've been using <a href="http://www.djsteveboy.com/mixes.html" target="_blank">Podrunner</a> mixes along with a celebration song at the end to reward myself for completing my workouts. My Celebration Song has always been just for me, and I let myself choose whatever the hell I want to hear in that moment. Since I've been doing this training I keep coming back to the same song to celebrate with: Michael Jackson's "You Can't Win" from the Super Soul musical The Wiz. I know the movie was kind of a bust, but it's been embedded in my life since I was a child and the music was catchy and fun. This song, mixed with the endorphin high of a good run, and the projection of my personal story onto it's lyrics, is a cocktail so strong that it aligns all the planets of my being, opening the fifth dimension of Don't Fuck With Me I'm A Glowing Ray of Light and Power. Hearing that song at the culmination of a workout gets me so pumped up that I'm dancing like a fool down the street saying Fuck Yes! to life, ready for any mountain lion or ninja hiding in the bushes to challenge me. They would most certainly would run from my sheer force of EndorphineFunkCelebration.<br />
<br />
It might sound strange that a song about <i>not </i>winning would loft my spirits so much. Well, I identify with Scarecrow at this moment. Meta picture: Scarecrow, the representation of apathy, restrained by his own insecurity, slowly breaks away from his shackles of fear. He's forced to sing, by the Crows (his demons, addictions, Inner Critics) the same old song, over and over, until it becomes a mantra that holds no meaning, like words that lose all meaning once repeated over and over. It's at that moment that he starts to beak free. The lyrics are not his words, they're an anthem to a state of being that he is waking up from. He's hovering on the edge, he's reached the precipice, and is just about to realize that he <i>can win</i>. My mother would tell me I'm thinking too much, that sometimes a Werewolf in London is literally just that, but I like the story I made up better.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/mPVpMxVn6mk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>You can't win<br />You can't break even<br />And you can't get out of the game<br />People keep sayin'<br />Things are gonna change<br />But they look just like<br />You're stayin' the same<br />You get in<br />way over your head<br />And you only got yourself to blame<br />You can't win Child<br />You can't break even<br />And you can't get out of the game<br />You can't win<br />The world keeps movin'<br />And you're standin' far behind<br />People keep sayin'<br />Things'll get better<br />(Just to ease your state of mind)<br />(So you lean back, and you smoke that smoke)<br />(And you drink your glass of wine)<br />Say you can't win, Child<br />You can't break even<br />And you can't get out of the game<br />You can't win, you can't win no way<br />If your story stays the same<br />(You ain't winnin'),<br />No, no,<br />(But it's nice to see you)<br />(I'm awfully glad you came)<br />(Better cool it 'cause<br />It ain't about losin')<br />And the world has got no shame<br />You can't win, Child<br />You can't break even<br />You can't get out of the game<br />You can't win<br />You can't break even<br />Ain't the way it's supposed to be<br />(You'll be spendin'),<br />No, no<br />(Your little bit of money)<br />While someone else rides for free<br />(Learn your lesson), ooh,<br />(Refuel your mind)<br />(Before some turkey blows out your flame)<br />You can't win, Child<br />You can't break even<br />You can't get out of the game</i></blockquote>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16329669972784752273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-74360758118871060142014-12-17T12:32:00.000-08:002014-12-17T12:45:43.706-08:00Swan Song to Mary Jane<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"MS 明朝";
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:128;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:fixed;
mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:"MS 明朝";
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:128;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:fixed;
mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-ansi-language:EN-US;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-ansi-language:EN-US;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:35.4pt;
mso-footer-margin:35.4pt;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, remember when I was all "<a href="http://deeperintotheworld.blogspot.ca/2013/12/ember.html">I'm ready to get my ass in gear</a>" last year? Well, it didn't happen too
quickly, but it did finally happen. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I'm
happy to report that my ass is now in full gear. Full-Geared-Ass has
commenced! I have the muscle pain and an earlier alarm set on my phone
to prove it. I'm on the road of few words, lots of action. I will say, however, that the road I'm taking is on foot- and it's 13.1 miles long. More- lots more- on this in the months to come. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I've been making small steps toward
something better, something that seemed so far away from my life that it felt like a distant galaxy. But I've been mired in apathy, stuck in the proverbial rut,
the deceptively enticing quicksand of stuckness has been sucking me down. That rut I was in felt cozy, though. The apathy draped around
my shoulders like a nice, warm, cashmere throw. I think for awhile I was
confusing the quicksand for a Vichy mudbath. What I'm saying here, people, is
that the low-grade depression and unmotivated greyness that clung around my
life like a misty fog served me somehow. Or, maybe <i>I</i> served <i>It</i>. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, before I move any further down this
path of action, I have to say thank you and goodbye to someone very special
to me. Her name is Mary Jane. You might know Her by other names: weed, green,
pot- you get the picture. I need to say thank you and farewell to my old
companion Tetrahydrocannabinol, good ole’ C21H30O2. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I remember the initial spark of
discomfort, a seed that was planted one late spring evening while scrolling
mindlessly through social media. A friend I met in Vermont, a <a href="http://womboflight.com/about/">lovely woman</a> who
helps others come into healing, had posted an <a href="http://www.elephantjournal.com/2012/08/dear-marijuana-a-goodbye-letter-alexandra-moga/">article</a> in Elephant Journal. I always pay attention to her posts because they're usually very poignant and insightful. I was smoking my evening
bowl, unwinding from my stressful day, happy for the lengthening days and
warmed concrete under my bare feet. The title of the article piqued my
interest: “<a href="http://www.elephantjournal.com/2012/08/dear-marijuana-a-goodbye-letter-alexandra-moga/">Dear Marijuana</a>” by Alexandra Moga. Oh, yes, dear, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dear</i>
marijuana. I sing your praises and pray at your altar almost religiously. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Click.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was expecting an article lauding
the benefits of weed, another piece of research affirming my choices, adding a
layer of cashmere to my self-inflicted shroud of apathy. What I got was a love
letter- a goodbye letter- to my dear friend. I almost closed the page, feeling tricked, judging it as right-wing propaganda, but chose to read it. It hit me like a brick wall. I cried. This woman
could be me. I could finish most of her sentences. Change the name, some of the basic info, she is me. I am she! </span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"</span>I know that you heal. And I know that you enlighten. You are of <span style="color: #ff6600;"><span style="color: black;">M</span></span>other Earth and you ease the pain that life can bring in a <del></del>beautiful way. But the truth needs to be stated: using you is, ultimately, cheating...</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>...It’s cheating myself and the road that I have to walk through
life—through pain, foolishness, discomfort and the work I need to do on
that tendency toward not-always-healthy escapism I harbor. You’re the
fast lane to the highs above the lows of life. <a href="http://www.elephantjournal.com/2011/09/moment-of-the-day-marijuana-melted-my-mind/" title="Moment of the Day: Marijuana Melted My Mind.">You’ve helped me understand some grand truths...</a></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i>...I mean, here I am right now, living a life around yoga, wholeheartedly
trying to dedicate myself to helping myself and others access a direct
connection to that elevated, deeply integrated state you so cheaply
(though dang—you can cost a lot!) and easily endow with zero work or
digging. It’s not true. It’s not honest. ‘Cause as much as I love you, <a href="http://www.elephantjournal.com/2010/06/why-not-to-smoke-pot-from-a-buddhist-point-of-view/" title="Why not to smoke pot from a Buddhist point of view.">I’ve gotta learn how to love and stay connected to the unadulterated</a>,
direct line, the line of and through myself, my soul, the only tool I
was born with for that exact purpose—to connect in order get high and
deep as f***!"</i> </span></blockquote>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There was only one big difference between me and that woman: she was on the other side. I sat there. Judging. Mocking. Silently simmering
inside. Hating that mirror. I wasn’t ready.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bookmark.
</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The seed was planted. I went on with my life. Working, planting and tending my garden, moving, learning my herbs and medicines, working some more, and, of course, smoking. In the back of my mind I kept that seed hidden in the deep, loamy soil of my heart, it's potential slowly germinating in me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A little while later I received an email from
an <a href="http://shamanaflora.com/darcey-blue/">herbalist</a> whom I admire. She was sharing a book review of the book <a href="http://planthealerbookstore.com/"><i>The Enchanted Healer: A Guidebook for Finding Your True Medicine</i></a> by Jesse Hardin. A quote stood out to me:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“It is crucial for healers to not become
complacent, inured, or for any reason get in the habit of feeling less and
numbing out more. The efficacy of our lives and practices hinges on our sensitivities,
our innate and developed senses, our ability to notice, feel, and respond.” –
Jesse Hardin</i></span></blockquote>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As an herbalist, student, and
apprentice, my heart sunk. I know this, yet <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i>
is exactly what I’ve been guilty of. My training in Traditional Medicine had
just started and the rule has always been that I can’t touch any intoxicating
substance for four days prior to touching a medicine. I've been taught that I need to stay sharp and aware. That complicated my fun
time. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">About a week later I got an email from a dear friend. She wanted to give me some feedback on a recent visit we had. She held that mirror right up to my face and told me that the last time we saw each other that I did nothing but talk about me. We both were pretty high during our visit and that equates to a loquaciousness like no other for me. Holy fucking hell. There was no backing away from this now. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My priorities were placed squarely in front of me.
I had to make a choice- a week later I was in the chair across from an awesome
therapist. A week after that I decided to not smoke pot for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one</i> night. Then another, and another.
One night at a time. One bowl at a time. This wasn’t the grand farewell I imagined
it would be. This wasn’t the way I pictured my departure from Greenland. I
didn’t sneak away, I just clicked and It shut off.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I haven’t smoked in a couple months. I
wasn’t sure how this would affect my life, but the rewards have so far
outweighed the occasional cravings I have, usually at night when I’m done with
my day, or when I have major period cramps or arthritis flare ups, or when I
have an especially stressful or emotional day, or when I’m in a social
situation where I want to vibe with everyone else. I’m seeing the holes that
weed filled for me, how it lubricated discomfort and coddled me, or when I was bored. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was always lamenting not having enough time to achieve the things I want to achieve in my life- to be creative and productive and healthy, but my intense lack of motivation was purely chemically-induced, a leftover coping mechanism. I realized that my habit started during the trauma of my
mid thirties when my life dramatically shifted. It helped me cope with the
death and grief that surrounded me. It eased me into a new life after I left my
ex. I celebrated my freedom by sparking up. I had amazing, mind-blowing
psychedelic realizations. And then things just sort of flatlined and went numb.
I stopped running. I stopped creating. I stopped doing anything that wasn't in my lexicon of self-preservation. The initial chrysalis of mind-altering benefits wore off and never opened, devoid of energy or motivation. I just kept sleeping, thinking that the longer I stay in that cozy cocoon the more prepared I'd be for the next big shift. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I know I don't need to say this, but I would like to acknowledge all the weed smokers out there. This is not a judgement on you or your relationship with pot. We all have our own shit to deal with and this is completely mine. I have been in many situations since I made this shift where people have been confused and self-conscious around me and offered to leave the room, or ask me if I am offended in some way. I'm not. Keep on keepin' on! This is my choice around my issues. I know nothing of your issues and make no judgements, no should I. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, this is my farewell. My swan song
to Mary Jane. I wholeheartedly thank you for all the good you do for so many
who benefit from your potent Earth Medicine. I apologize for abusing you,
taking you for granted, and misusing you for my own dysfunction. I will always
advocate for your freedom. I will always honor your deep wisdom. If I ever see you again, I will most certainly look you in the eye and we will both acknowledge the awesome times we shared together and how you changed me. But it's over now. We both need to move on and be the best we can be for others. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s
not you- it’s me.</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16329669972784752273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-28778421762360752522014-08-11T12:34:00.001-07:002014-08-11T12:34:58.777-07:00Catching upOK, OK, I know. It's been 9 months since my last post. Enough time to birth a damned baby! Well, I guess I've kind of been carrying something to term, although we're still childless by choice (unless you count our furry family members!), but more on that later.<br />
<br />
To play a little bit of catchup- we moved out of our awesome apartment/horrible neighborhood in Hamilton, Ontario on April 1st. We weren't planning a move, but the location and constant fear for my life, lack of greenspace, constant parking tickets (there were only metered spaces anywhere near our building), and just general depressing energy of that neighborhood finally got to us. When we found a rental in our favorite town in the GHA we jumped on it and broke our lease. We ended up in a sweet 1.5 bedroom with a great yard in Dundas, a posh little British'y town about 15 minutes outside of the city. The Bruce Trail picks up at the end of our street. My CSA share is a block away. There's an amazing butcher a block from us. We live next to a chiropractic office that closes before we even get home, with a privacy-fenced back yard, so we can walk around in our skivvies with nary a thought. We've been in domestic bliss for the last 4+ months.<br />
<br />
The entire first night Emma slept outside. I realized that night just how depressed she had gotten with no access to the outdoors, even with twice daily walks or the almost daily outings to the dog park. Emma, more than any of us, needs access to be outside, followed by her mama. I sat outside wrapped in a blanket every night until the weather got warm enough to let the warm air swirl around my toes. Noel actually slept an entire night in the hammock on top of a sheepskin and under a down duvet! We put in a great lasagna garden (it's a type of gardening, not that you couldn't make a lasagna out of the harvest!), some medicinal herbs (especially catnip to keep our babies close to home) and sit outside every night while we let the day wind down. I've always been a nature loving girl, but I just now realized how desperately I had missed being able to take in fresh air!<br />
<br />
Other than just getting unpacked our lives have been relatively stable. Working, hiking, visiting family in Buffalo, chilling. That's about it. We came into a bit of cash from from tax returns we finally filed, so we took a holiday to one of our favorite places and one new place (for Noel, at least): Vermont and California. We spent 5 blissful days in Vermont with our friends Denise and Brian. Five days was just enough time to remind me why we love it so much there. It was kind of painful to go back, visit all of our old haunts and say hi to old friends. I felt like I had to float on top of the experience lest it pull me into the vortex of green, mountainous vistas, amazingly fresh farm-to-table culture, rooted, down-to-earth people and abundance of Subarus. When we left, we felt like we were leaving home again.<br />
<br />
The second half of our trip was dedicated to exploring as much of California as we could in 9 short days. Definitely not enough to do it justice, but we still had a great time. We met up and stayed with friends in Sebastopol, Santa Barbara and San Diego and had one lovely and completely naked 24 hours in Orr Hot Springs. We had a great time in California. It was wonderful to see so many old friends at once, eat awesome Mexican food, explore the ocean and forests, gratefully accepting the doting hospitality of our hosts, and basically just letting our hair down and letting the days flow into one another. <br />
<br />
On the third day of our trip, my landlord emailed me that he needed to speak with us ASAP. I called him and he broke the news- he's getting a divorce and needs us to move out October 1st.<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
Fuck.<br />
<br />
At first I experienced a great sadness, mourning the sweet little nest we were still creating for ourselves. Then anger came up- how could he? Doesn't he know how much our home means to us? Then bargaining- couldn't he take pity and give us a few more months? Finally, acceptance kicked in, because we are, unfortunately, only mere renters, and his drama trumps our life. I forgave myself for being an unsympathetic asshole and grew a pair (of boobs!) So, we started looking around. And talking. And looking. And realizing...<br />
<br />
Pet owners are seriously discriminated against when it comes to renting.<br />
<br />
But, aside from that, we really started thinking- why are we staying in Ontario? <br />
<br />
We were immediately pulled out of the sleepy lull of our vacation and went into self-preservation mode. We drove right by the Pacific ocean and barely saw it's splendor. We felt out of control, powerless and frustrated. So, we made a conscious choice to not let it get us down, to enjoy our vacation and deal with the mess when we touched down and recovered from our trip. About twice a day for the rest of the trip these waves of anxiety and sadness flowed through us. We acknowledged it and let it pass and dissipate. I think the beautiful surroundings and the awesome friends had something to do with that!<br />
<br />
So, we're at the crux of some major decision-making right now. Where to go from here?<br />
<br />
I can't answer that right at the moment, but I can share a few of my favorite photos from at least the VT leg of our trip. Enjoy, and if anyone has any wisdom on this front, please share!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSHTXnTw6Lz63HMDM9EyyMeRYsmP3O2dE2WmWHe8F8UMIskuPFaZ14RU1bnwOT9rRN995GPa_YGngc_oCpPxN0A9_hNj0IbowzQS-3UjqJLZb8iWq3KnZhUlvBA_UEC6cQAPOZMIOhQLU/s1600/45161_10153022985107678_674635372480299940_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSHTXnTw6Lz63HMDM9EyyMeRYsmP3O2dE2WmWHe8F8UMIskuPFaZ14RU1bnwOT9rRN995GPa_YGngc_oCpPxN0A9_hNj0IbowzQS-3UjqJLZb8iWq3KnZhUlvBA_UEC6cQAPOZMIOhQLU/s1600/45161_10153022985107678_674635372480299940_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noel at Granville Gulch, VT.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKRMUPmQ_pczz4o8VN5fy6J3PNG0j7kE9-nk68MO9RE2Ax1Xlrq8I4286LxObwPGGlr4yorrkzntG4_Lq30MflBeg14MGfeP6iJj2UiwPrALga9C8ErbAyCD2ELN9sI3lLCc667p1CYI/s1600/59609_10153014253247678_4382569059461767801_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKRMUPmQ_pczz4o8VN5fy6J3PNG0j7kE9-nk68MO9RE2Ax1Xlrq8I4286LxObwPGGlr4yorrkzntG4_Lq30MflBeg14MGfeP6iJj2UiwPrALga9C8ErbAyCD2ELN9sI3lLCc667p1CYI/s1600/59609_10153014253247678_4382569059461767801_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our friend's beautiful home in Johnson, VT.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVz8QmsVzqioJOCbLDHqhP_BtooVztsgGoaR89OfGyOrwC2xiesSKWR6A35ydF1iSuR6lP8QSlP_ESIgMX3SGOgrqSw6lhecF6S8HBjhggQNiQabknuyEpJr1AP_tegXwNT0NQoMjN6k/s1600/10177932_10153014255182678_6017236605805242612_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVz8QmsVzqioJOCbLDHqhP_BtooVztsgGoaR89OfGyOrwC2xiesSKWR6A35ydF1iSuR6lP8QSlP_ESIgMX3SGOgrqSw6lhecF6S8HBjhggQNiQabknuyEpJr1AP_tegXwNT0NQoMjN6k/s1600/10177932_10153014255182678_6017236605805242612_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from Mt. Mansfield, VT.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxX0tn4xLDBEUegOTgoqdpdNe6UxQrsWOVtFkCUsaWQu6UmoDd2Mgbf5o3HXmRPNjW_BYE2jtDMQKowLtTwhsZELHF_P8BCtC1dsnUPeHo8kmzlbrbNKEfqxWJvY821hBEjX4Bm_lESCY/s1600/10350987_10153022986247678_5692696187650947372_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxX0tn4xLDBEUegOTgoqdpdNe6UxQrsWOVtFkCUsaWQu6UmoDd2Mgbf5o3HXmRPNjW_BYE2jtDMQKowLtTwhsZELHF_P8BCtC1dsnUPeHo8kmzlbrbNKEfqxWJvY821hBEjX4Bm_lESCY/s1600/10350987_10153022986247678_5692696187650947372_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noel enjoying the water at Granville Gulch, VT.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTIdGe4T0LQudDu-kB7NivKRAitHQWKc1d9s1KIRu__Dz8WMd8EG547R-buolg16bnGCAOQU38KAwNRthzMCFzr-7BN3Bpr80TGtBA9ib5VfLWsIOa5lnIkxEQH5PpbGxmtC8uolk0xjo/s1600/10410171_10153022978837678_4509541107894442268_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTIdGe4T0LQudDu-kB7NivKRAitHQWKc1d9s1KIRu__Dz8WMd8EG547R-buolg16bnGCAOQU38KAwNRthzMCFzr-7BN3Bpr80TGtBA9ib5VfLWsIOa5lnIkxEQH5PpbGxmtC8uolk0xjo/s1600/10410171_10153022978837678_4509541107894442268_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirWeHaiXvTmwSTiTJ9BUhR-8gRssTCsf7weUrpoW5-jr0dz3ofhgLxRyiLscnT3NY-_ZuD_Btv9flK66AQ-OW3o9oHQ8QanT9B27ZQL9p7YWiQkPJIh6OjmCi1s6QDat0uVSzKyt_V5Ek/s1600/10410984_10153022939717678_5213510367459802168_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirWeHaiXvTmwSTiTJ9BUhR-8gRssTCsf7weUrpoW5-jr0dz3ofhgLxRyiLscnT3NY-_ZuD_Btv9flK66AQ-OW3o9oHQ8QanT9B27ZQL9p7YWiQkPJIh6OjmCi1s6QDat0uVSzKyt_V5Ek/s1600/10410984_10153022939717678_5213510367459802168_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite goatygoat who lives behind our friends in Johnson, VT.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihO4AoHwjF83ooeo5fkZYoiftFA6rO1yZC3Zbfy45kB0jbl0oUXqHE7rkO-XWeSa9R93ABF4Rnl4OhOxLSw-1mEI9EZuTCW9VW95EogC5RyOooG59Hde894A93mWE1jeoLw8TjIB1vHyk/s1600/10480979_10153022942182678_3852318053170949820_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihO4AoHwjF83ooeo5fkZYoiftFA6rO1yZC3Zbfy45kB0jbl0oUXqHE7rkO-XWeSa9R93ABF4Rnl4OhOxLSw-1mEI9EZuTCW9VW95EogC5RyOooG59Hde894A93mWE1jeoLw8TjIB1vHyk/s1600/10480979_10153022942182678_3852318053170949820_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dG5yMOXw9eLmttLPD7lf_6UYO_rjydsH9D5xmFfVSp5hW5uQXORWPVePxNAIJr3jWbYNpvC2MWUM6mhGaQW7sJw3Y2YvSHuQ6SmK8-EPjiBew0-rJh_dWq0wcqkVT301OlYQuLoBhws/s1600/10489888_10153014259027678_5705130016060575636_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dG5yMOXw9eLmttLPD7lf_6UYO_rjydsH9D5xmFfVSp5hW5uQXORWPVePxNAIJr3jWbYNpvC2MWUM6mhGaQW7sJw3Y2YvSHuQ6SmK8-EPjiBew0-rJh_dWq0wcqkVT301OlYQuLoBhws/s1600/10489888_10153014259027678_5705130016060575636_n.jpg" height="640" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Mansfield, VT</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_HTz723G9f7rW5UBJy3GiO-0MOweYAT73nCecxNUcy9Yb3GJPKEa9Jx49fBmI3oE8jstft_e15j1-YsZh-VrR7G1zwl6G0CFIEpq4bzLlwrsDYUhBAmZLtU8vYTCxWfogYGZtUQoipM/s1600/10511278_10153014256877678_5089680659792044189_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_HTz723G9f7rW5UBJy3GiO-0MOweYAT73nCecxNUcy9Yb3GJPKEa9Jx49fBmI3oE8jstft_e15j1-YsZh-VrR7G1zwl6G0CFIEpq4bzLlwrsDYUhBAmZLtU8vYTCxWfogYGZtUQoipM/s1600/10511278_10153014256877678_5089680659792044189_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVWQSJY05uNYbsEdmD39RhZ3iDzpPvzSsKlQNXMovZ4fTurLGY3nG-g5WRbScBQ4UeDMT8SEp3DpVOh7aA8apvndYNQb8w5QDQ4j0yS1b8tKCONQtztRKo_uoo0uRCbr0tXtMpM_6U18/s1600/10537423_10153022995002678_112282808776541378_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVWQSJY05uNYbsEdmD39RhZ3iDzpPvzSsKlQNXMovZ4fTurLGY3nG-g5WRbScBQ4UeDMT8SEp3DpVOh7aA8apvndYNQb8w5QDQ4j0yS1b8tKCONQtztRKo_uoo0uRCbr0tXtMpM_6U18/s1600/10537423_10153022995002678_112282808776541378_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hi there.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2BEJsXy_dB1DJtORp6_2b_FS3awNNFLmtSZ9LjYiaT87KzUmL2vD-yELlW_QoQUFcFYI2lS5IHZATmZCZlUcqlU2CWtjQH_Rp9VmG1YFMwUtyxZxiFH77uHqx5L6YgHMGKZM981Q2tFk/s1600/10559663_10153022990187678_7089495840870815429_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2BEJsXy_dB1DJtORp6_2b_FS3awNNFLmtSZ9LjYiaT87KzUmL2vD-yELlW_QoQUFcFYI2lS5IHZATmZCZlUcqlU2CWtjQH_Rp9VmG1YFMwUtyxZxiFH77uHqx5L6YgHMGKZM981Q2tFk/s1600/10559663_10153022990187678_7089495840870815429_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Granville Gulch, VT.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpj72mjffjT4-f6kOJWVJ5t-HCfAC0-aqT0p1wF1R3vTlCSoNLwy2K2KaiQH3f_HDpDZs54XEC3eXUNUIwobrdkc28BYelEh3PsMPr0Rj7fBNf9VqFQ_-trSpRsTauFKTKNX8EcD11RGk/s1600/10574291_10153022984572678_2932639032505307725_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpj72mjffjT4-f6kOJWVJ5t-HCfAC0-aqT0p1wF1R3vTlCSoNLwy2K2KaiQH3f_HDpDZs54XEC3eXUNUIwobrdkc28BYelEh3PsMPr0Rj7fBNf9VqFQ_-trSpRsTauFKTKNX8EcD11RGk/s1600/10574291_10153022984572678_2932639032505307725_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bus stop near Prickly Mountain in East Warren, VT.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16329669972784752273noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-52073772549480426932013-12-01T17:25:00.001-08:002015-12-15T22:22:48.430-08:00Ember<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>“Sometimes the one who is running from the Life/Death/Life nature
insists on thinking of love as a boon only. Yet love in its fullest form
is a series of deaths and rebirths. We let go of one phase, one aspect
of love, and enter another. Passion dies and is brought back. Pain is
chased away and surfaces another time. To love means to embrace and at
the same time to withstand many endings, and many many beginnings- all
in the same relationship.”
</i><br />
―
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/901977.Clarissa_Pinkola_Est_s">Clarissa Pinkola Estés</a>,
<i>
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/981745">Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype</a> </i></blockquote>
<br />
I feel like I've been focusing too much on death lately. Why do I say this? Well, because for some reason I almost capitalized the word "death" as I was tippity-tapping this out. Ugh. death can take a flying leap (for now) off a tall cliff... but that would just give it what it needs, eh? Well, how about distracting it for awhile with my awesome lab results!<br />
<br />
Oh, did I not share with you all my recent health fears? I've been putting it off and putting it off, but finally went and had many vials of blood sucked from my veins to take a snapshot of what is happening inside this glorious body of mine. I'm sure that even the healthiest person in the world has this little nagging fear in the back of their minds that they have some sort of incurable illness. If you take that fear and magnify it by, oh, say, twelve thousand, then you'd have a teensy peek into my (mild) hypochondriac brain. Everything, for me, is WORST. CASE. SCENARIO. ZOMBIE. APOCALYPSE. ENCROACHING. <br />
<br />
So, I'm pleased to share that neither zombies nor any manner of apocalypse will be encroaching on my ass anytime soon. In fact, my blood glucose level, creatinine-albumin ratio, thyroid, CA125, lipid profile and all other unpronounceables are perfectly balanced and in rather good spirits, actually! (Hmmmm, I wonder if there's a test for Zombie Apocalypse Syndrome?)<br />
<br />
This is a lovely thing for me to hear- it alleviated so many fears that have been building up in me for the past year. Every year I go to my annual physical weighted with the worst case scenario on my shoulders, making promises to myself, "from THIS DAY FORWARD I will take care of myself better and develop a taste for kefir, Bikram yoga and colon cleanses." So far, every year, I come out happy and relieved. Then I bring home a pizza and dial up the Netflix, right after that run I convinced myself out of. This is no way to live! <br />
<br />
Between 2008 and 2009 I had transformed myself from depressed, overweight and apathetic to a new, healthy and happy woman. I lost 70 lbs, was running every day, was eating whole and healthy food. I was consistently doing yoga, pilates and exploring other modes of being kind to my body and spirit. It showed. I was glowing. I felt amazing! A positive momentum was building in my life and bled into all parts of it. I started walking my talk on all levels. I was an active member in a community that accepted and loved me. With their support, I took pleasure in producing events that felt soulful and enriching. I finally found myself in a place where I felt strong enough to face my life. I started identifying my weaknesses and coming to terms with many deeply-embedded issues.<br />
<br />
I was strengthening my body
and spirit. In retrospect, I feel I should have been prepared for the tidal wave. I
was ripe and cracking open on all fronts. I guess I never thought I was strengthening it for <i>something</i> <i>specific</i>. Then the tidal wave hit my life.<br />
<br />
My father, diagnosed with lung
cancer, was deemed terminal. I left my husband of 11 years, something long overdue. A few months later my mother unexpectedly died without a
moment to even make sense out of it or really say goodbye. I took a job in Ontario and moved from Buffalo, NY to Ontario to be with Noel.<br />
<br />
My family unraveled under the
stress of taking care of my dying father and dealing with the sudden
loss of our mother. Her death was a
huge shock. We had been focusing all our
energy on taking care of my dad, who passed away on June 5th, 2010, 2 months to the day from my
mother's death. The tragedy in both of these deaths, aside from the
horrific sadness of watching my dying father have to see my mother die
so suddenly, was that my sisters were both pregnant with their first
children, 3 months apart. Neither of my parents lived to see their first grandchildren be
born. My niece Lily looked so much like my father during her first
month. <br />
<br />
2010 was a year of living, dying and love. Life was pared down to the base essentials of humanity. Since then I've spent the better part of 3 years protecting myself and picking up the random pieces of rooftop and brick and broken glass shattered and thrown by the hurricane that brushed by my life. <br />
<br />
Loss made me recoil into a shell of instant gratification and comfort. Food and pot and movies.... although a lovely way to live if you're 20 and on summer break, is not the right prescription for a 34 year old woman who has just come out of a personal crisis. Night by night all work I pushed through in 2008-2009 slowly became undone. I remember running through the forest, at my beloved Spraguebrook Park, liberated and full of light and sweating and pushing through the pain of an hour and a half trail run, saying to myself "Never again, I'll never have to hurt and work like this again", promising myself that I made positive changes for good. Funny how massive stress can act like quicksand. I just got stuck. Mired. On the outside I was doing fine, moving along and keeping myself afloat amidst an ever-changing sea of stress and depression. I got promotions, better and better jobs, was blissfully in love, got married, moved to Vermont, moved back... On the inside I started making excuses for every day I stayed dormant. I was protecting myself, I thought. I was holding the last little shreds of my energy close to me, I thought. Finally, I caught up with grieving and the wound across my heart has gone from gaping and raw to a scar. I imagine that scar in the form of a lightning bolt.<br />
<br />
So here I am, on the other side. Actually, where I am is on the hard slug back up that hill, if I really want to be accurate. My labs were fine. This time. But I know that the longer I go on treating my body like a Bacchanalian temple the less likely those labs will keep coming back normal. The hard work is again set before me. I've come to realize that changing my unhealthy patterns isn't a temporary commitment. It has to be permanent. I'm a little older, a little wiser, and a little richer for having lived through the past few years. It doesn't make the work in front of me any easier, but the ember of a healthy, motivated, whole woman sits inside of me. I've been breathing a little onto that ember lately, hoping a flame will lick up and set my world on fire again. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16329669972784752273noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-84290604507451244502013-11-17T19:13:00.001-08:002013-11-17T19:13:42.835-08:00And then there were 6...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVmouUTzRQET5mpgc_g-c0aS6eHGor0fpX1KRnyc6hYvpglpGK1oQX3CJuiK7aix4CiRscULAtvFM5igvRf2tdXEKjB2jGai6oRxP5p076icR9xamSOHA44PMACYYAogJc_uNm88ZzZk/s1600/IMG_0301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVmouUTzRQET5mpgc_g-c0aS6eHGor0fpX1KRnyc6hYvpglpGK1oQX3CJuiK7aix4CiRscULAtvFM5igvRf2tdXEKjB2jGai6oRxP5p076icR9xamSOHA44PMACYYAogJc_uNm88ZzZk/s1600/IMG_0301.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ginger taking his rest on Noel's lap.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The Morningstar household has suffered the loss of yet another furry companion, our Guinea Pig, Ginger, died suddenly in Noel's arms the other night. He was a sweet little guy with (believe it or not) a real personality. His gentle and quiet nature was sharply contrasted next to his brother Stinker's in-your-face Guinea Pig style. Stinker is alone now, but adjusted very quickly. Once Ginger passed away, Stinker came up to him, snuffled him, tried to wake him by pulling at his foot, did a weird little dance on him and that was it. His mourning was over. It was hard not to laugh, for the sheer strangeness of the rites of Guinea Pigs, but the sadness of watching that poor little bugger suffer and die so quickly overshadowed any silliness, at least for a little while. What was wrong with him? I have no clue. One minute he was eating his favorite, cucumber, the next day we noticed he had no energy, no drive, no squeak. His eyes were crusty and his nose was snotty. He was cold to the touch and didn't want any food. Within an hour and a half of noticing this he was gone. I gave him aconite 30c when I noticed he was sick, and then some Hepar Sulph, but I could tell it was too late. I gave him to Noel who warmed him by holding his little body close to his own chest. Ginger nuzzled in. Then he made a strange "eeee!!!!" sound and flopped over onto his side in a strangely dramatic fashion. He did that a few more times, in between gasping a bit, and then nothing. His little soul melted into the One, or was enfolded in the wings of the Goddess, or went to Guinea Pig Heaven (whatever you believe happens when you die, it matters not in the big picture). <br />
<br />
This death came suddenly and it reminded me that Death has no rhyme or reason in its timing. It also reminded me of the animals that I've shared my life with and lost in the past few years. I have always been an animal lover but never fully expressed that during my life until the past few years. Just in the past year alone we lost our sweet DaphneCat and then Penelope, neither of whom were properly eulogized. So, since lists seem to soothe me, I thought I'd make up an indulgent little list of the sweet furry friends that I've said goodbye to in the past few years. I've had so many animals in my life, I hope this doesn't make me look like the Black Widow of the Domesticated Animal Kingdom!<br />
<br />
(Chronologically listed- I won't play favorities!)<br />
<br />
1. 2009-November 2013: Ginger the Guinea Pig. Inherited (as most Guinea Pigs are, I swear the same 10 Guinea Pigs just circulate the earth being given away from home to home!) Loved for his gentle nature and propensity for squeaking as soon as he heard the fridge door open. Taken by something that seemed like an aggressive upper respiratory infection.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_ETrIcZJo_d1Vo-E7bJu-a9YWNnIobDpgioSd4MjYekZgVv_SZMV8qPdTtCcONnrxKnro706Ev9KnJmG1CUqokurIjXiO7QzvsGG0X9L0_Hz2vB-qFqsrvQoM79jdUacwhp54SaLQy4/s1600/IMG_3120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_ETrIcZJo_d1Vo-E7bJu-a9YWNnIobDpgioSd4MjYekZgVv_SZMV8qPdTtCcONnrxKnro706Ev9KnJmG1CUqokurIjXiO7QzvsGG0X9L0_Hz2vB-qFqsrvQoM79jdUacwhp54SaLQy4/s1600/IMG_3120.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
2. July 2008-February 2013: Penelope the Great Dane. Purchased from a back-woods breeder in Chaffee, NY right before the end of my previous marriage. Loved for her goofy ways, her sweet and gentle disposition and her preference to sit on your lap despite her 115 pounds. Loved to stalk the cats. Loved to find her Fish. I took great joy in teaching Penny to swim the summer before she died. Taken by Osteosarcoma. She thoroughly enjoyed her life right up until the moment that she left us. She died peacefully with my words "Carry only love" being sung to her.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDV1sjnYWBm3H9Wk4TOHgEJnTCEiaz_Uci2W8QwHlLKGEw3884TvMKquQikHnQlIeq9Crogjqluv40gaHyyPYD0edAlq0N_eWuyFUGXaIeOpW70IgEUvuc-YH4ivPPBKsjvurcznN_CM/s1600/IMG_0349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDV1sjnYWBm3H9Wk4TOHgEJnTCEiaz_Uci2W8QwHlLKGEw3884TvMKquQikHnQlIeq9Crogjqluv40gaHyyPYD0edAlq0N_eWuyFUGXaIeOpW70IgEUvuc-YH4ivPPBKsjvurcznN_CM/s1600/IMG_0349.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAuxNY1pCnX4oZXL6ivg19IZpI3JwV9qmEM_IpOX8V1xvWtiHoQc8XTiu5BQkWVwEXYsiSdSgBnZE8Hvo1s5zhVi7bWXSoU2xUWycHohzZG80RRvvK2kIL8pcLjeIu8_eSBrMY2UjfKVY/s1600/IMG_0316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAuxNY1pCnX4oZXL6ivg19IZpI3JwV9qmEM_IpOX8V1xvWtiHoQc8XTiu5BQkWVwEXYsiSdSgBnZE8Hvo1s5zhVi7bWXSoU2xUWycHohzZG80RRvvK2kIL8pcLjeIu8_eSBrMY2UjfKVY/s1600/IMG_0316.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
3. 2005-September 2012: DaphneCat (aka Tikey Bee). Found in a tree in the middle of a thick wood when she was just a teensy baby. John, my ex, stood on all fours so that I could climb on top of his back to rescue her from the tree limb she was perilously perched on. She cried and cried (howled, really) even as she gulped down her food that first day. Well known for her adeptness at tricks, Tikey enjoyed sitting up, giving her paw, laying down and high-fiving for treats. She was taken too soon by a car on Route 100 in Hancock, VT. I found her on the side of the road as I was driving to work. She's now buried behind our first VT home, the Gathering Inn, next to some lovely comfrey.<br />
<br />
4. ?- 2011: SanJambs the Ball Python. SanJambs also came to us as an inherited pet. He was the most gentle and sweet snake I've met (aside from our Maizie Snake). He loved to sit wrapped around my shoulders while I did dishes and slither up to the water. He loved to swim. He loved to lay along the length of me while I laid on the couch. SanJay burrowed himself down under his substrate and suffered burns to his abdomen from the heating pad. Note to anyone who uses heating pads- don't use heating pads! He just wouldn't eat after that and after many days in the care of the Herpetologist he came home. He died in my arms.<br />
<br />
5. ?- 2011: Butterwood Bakery Parking Lot Cat (aka: Butter). We found Butter in the parking lot of, as his name suggests, Butterwood Bakery in West Falls, NY. He was a stray (confirmed by the bakery) and was the most easy-going cat I've ever met. He just sat there in the car, no need for a carrier. He immediately adjusted into our home like he had always lived there and was probably the most affectionate cat I've had the pleasure to share space with. Noel found him dead on the floor of our living room after work one day. We have no idea what happened. He is sorely missed, especially when eating pancakes or corn on the cob.<br />
<br />
6. ?- 2010: Mellow the Cat. Inherited from my sister Meghan, Mellow was a sweet little thing that we only had for a few months. She grew on us and loved to play in the bathroom while we sat on the toilet. (We all have our thing, don't we?) She was diagnosed with Fatty Liver disease and died shortly after.<br />
<br />
7. 1998-2006: Sophie, the Greatest Dane of them all. John, my ex, gave Sophie to me as a Christmas gift the first year we were married. Loved for her astute emotions and fierce loyalty. Sophie was my first real pet as an adult. She had 8 wonderful years and died at the end of a long battle with Cardiomyopathy. I laid with her the night before she died- right on the floor next to her. I dreamt that we were in an airport together that night, and that she got on the plane without me. She's buried at John's house, in her favorite place, The Plateau.<br />
<br />
Wow. That's a ton of pets. I've been questioned as to why I share my life with so many animals. I can't really tell you why aside from the fact that each one of their spirits spoke to mine and I opened my heart and home to them. There's something about connecting with an animal that transcends the trappings of human emotions. There's no pettiness, no jealously, and believe it or not, no problems with communication. They say what they mean. They don't need words to say anything. I don't know if I need to do some work on that myself or if I'm surrounding myself with pets to make up for lost time or if I just like having an illegitimate petting zoo in my home, all I can tell you is that I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm by no means the Angelina Jolie of domesticated animals, especially because we've decided not to replace any of our pets as they leave us. I'm enjoying the company of the remaining Fur Family: Desmond, Loki and Ruby (our cats), Emmadog, Stinker (the remaining Guinea Pig) and MaizieSnake. They will all have their own eulogies, but for now, I'm celebrating their lives.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16329669972784752273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-78290425159510234322013-10-29T08:45:00.001-07:002013-10-29T08:45:21.411-07:00Moving, Nesting, Running, Living and DyingTwo months have come and gone and it feels like it's been about 2 days since my last post. Time and life are flying by. What's new? Lots, and nothing. Lots of nothing? I feel the need for a list welling up from deep within... it's like that rumble in the pit of my stomach that signifies something is coming out of me whether I (or you) like it or not... So, in no particular order of importance (my subconscious might argue with that), here is my update for the last 2 months:<br />
<br />
<b>1. Moving and Nesting</b>: I love our apartment- it has great bones and is just small enough (1 very large bedroom, a living room, a teensy bathroom, and a nice sized kitchen) to manage cleaning without feeling totally overwhelming. Having a dog and 3 cats makes life, well, lets just say, vacuum-worthy.<br />
<br />
The architectural detail of the building (it's an old stone heritage building that used to be a bank) keeps us there despite the neighborhood's less-than-desirable location. Although we love the apartment, we have kept searching for either a house or large apartment to rent that offers access to the outside world- that's really the only thing this place lacks. It's a little miserable to have no outdoor access aside from our front stoop- upon which I have found (on more than one occasion) a used condom, used needle, half-eaten pizza slice, too many cigarette butts to count, and the occasional hobo, misanthrope or prostitute.<br />
<br />
There are also good things about our neighborhood that give it that rough-around-the-edges inner-city charm, like the sweet little old Eastern European ladies wearing babushkas, Emma's favorite prostitute who always loves to give her lots of love and petting, and the constant entertainment of the various modes of transport (e-bikes are the standard followed closely by those old-people scooters and bikes with hacked shopping carts as trailers). So, we're sort of half-searching for a new place, but reluctantly, as I firmly believe we would be total shoe-ins for the 2014 Apartment Therapy Small Cool contest! My goal is to settle on something, whether it's this place or something else, by early Spring 2014 so that I can know which community garden to join.<br />
<br />
<b>2. Work</b>: I had trepidations about my current position as the office manager/Girl Friday for the physician and Traditional Healer that I work for- mainly due to funding issues, but since my last post (and after some job searching, interviews and offers) I decided to tough out the storm of uncertainty and stick with the job knowing I may not know how long it will last. I couldn't bear the thought of working anywhere else. Nowhere else in my life have I ever felt so valued as an employee, a person, an herbalist, and a woman. I totally believe in the work that we're doing and feel that I'm a part of it, even in my limited administrative role. My bosses (who I feel honored to call my friends) are patient, respectful and encouraging. I decided that was worth more than more money, more benefits, or a closer commute. The day after I decided to stay for the long haul my employer handed me my paycheck with a significant raise- like almost twice what I was making- along with a hug. I don't think I've ever glowed at work, but this was as close to that as I've ever come.<br />
<br />
In addition to my position at the clinic, I was just offered a contract position as an Archivist for the Indigenous Knowledge Centre on Six Nations. It's part time for 5 months and will not only give me the extra cash I need to dig myself out of debt, it will afford Noel and I the money that we need to pay for his vasectomy reversal surgery. It doesn't hurt that I have access to this amazing cache of Indigenous Knowledge- a cache that I'm now charged with making some sort of sense out of!<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>3. Noel's Update:</b> Noel doesn't seem to come here as much as I do, I guess that's up to him to share if he wants. Basically, Noel decided to forego school this year and stick to working at the Coaster company that hired him on shortly after returning to Ontario. It's similar grudgery to his last schleppy warehousing job, but he has a cool benefit- awesome coasters. Sounds crazy, right? I never realized what a great design vehicle coasters are for interesting art! I'll have to scan some and share. <br />
<br />
<b>Other things:</b><br />
Well, basically we've been unpacking more, settling into the area and getting to know Hamilton in all it's Steeltown glory. It's a wonderfully multicultural city with tons of greenspace (it's saving grace) and a funky-weird vibe, not good or bad, just funky and weird.<br />
<br />
I keep pining away for Vermont, but know that all in good time we will be back to visit our favorite state. For now, we've decided it's best to put down roots in a place that will allow us to thrive and build up our skill sets.<br />
<br />
I'm starting school in January and Noel is trying to figure out where and when and what he wants to learn. My intention right now is to finish my Bachelors and move into a health-based field- maybe finish my Master Herbalist diploma or possibly apply to Naturopathic school. I usually set all these lofty goals for years down the line without really allowing life to unfold the way it's supposed to, so this time I'm trying to take each day, week and month as a sort of fluid progression that naturally evolves from choice to the next. <br />
<br />
Life keeps throwing curve balls at us, but we're making progress and don't feel half as vulnerable and freaked out as we did in December. I've started running again and am planning to take a 6 month yoga teacher training at <a href="http://www.dharmadoor.com/" target="_blank">Dharma Door</a> retreat beginning in April. I promised myself I would give the training to myself as a gift after a solid 6 months of running and yoga, so it's still tentative, but I feel confident that I can get through 6 months without backing into my sedentary self again. <br />
<br />
<b>Rest In Peace, Layne Redmond:</b><br />
One more important thing that really merits it's own post- <a href="http://www.layneredmond.com/Home.html" target="_blank">Layne Redmond</a>, a wonderful frame drummer who I had the pleasure to work with at Kripalu Center (her Bee Priestess Training) passed on yesterday from a lengthy illness. I'll write more about it, I'm sure, but wanted to note that we have lost a wonderful woman who inspired a whole community of percussionists to explore rhythm as an integral part of their expression of spirit. She lived her life to it's absolute fullest until she let go, working on the revised edition of her now famous book "When the Drummers Were Women" during her last days. She will be sorely missed, but her work is being carried on by those she acted as mentor to- many many MANY women (and some men!) who are now teaching their own frame drum techniques based on Layne's work.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZReo9-nCKEQW5U-BOqHx075DECGoGouuzWTyOCBcEEaumGFJssOO_eJnhcYG0p26gN5efEb3PCJAvlZ6F0sJgznsz3GCo-1quvDmktdo7v6KgG7lJ35odfhXd2U1zP5Y3t-_DX0KBKm9w/s1600/photo-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZReo9-nCKEQW5U-BOqHx075DECGoGouuzWTyOCBcEEaumGFJssOO_eJnhcYG0p26gN5efEb3PCJAvlZ6F0sJgznsz3GCo-1quvDmktdo7v6KgG7lJ35odfhXd2U1zP5Y3t-_DX0KBKm9w/s640/photo-2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emma and I enjoying Little Rock City.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQLomVfQvqOh6a2tTCfJHCY_-3NfookrYT6dkgt-jKpmm0bBPaW4-lmtHU5BFbW-QgSAkyHOre1IAtJgTH6MrsvCvZWWghOdHfY4ccMR0B_QJroZKa5s9cwUItm1b7HzYn-Ys0Z9E9CJw/s1600/photo-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQLomVfQvqOh6a2tTCfJHCY_-3NfookrYT6dkgt-jKpmm0bBPaW4-lmtHU5BFbW-QgSAkyHOre1IAtJgTH6MrsvCvZWWghOdHfY4ccMR0B_QJroZKa5s9cwUItm1b7HzYn-Ys0Z9E9CJw/s400/photo-1.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brilliant autumn <3</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyWWa3V8M8WSXofniQi1b5cv0OCeOX7ZGTWBVjG97RaKVAtXEjiwxq-lQnHnAOka-HSYgNbMtMDL_HcmPz4sGAAs-p4PgnKpcNGYLhvxCZtH9rrHF0c5DEfXEtv31bQ5AvuY3Dsxd1kixy/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyWWa3V8M8WSXofniQi1b5cv0OCeOX7ZGTWBVjG97RaKVAtXEjiwxq-lQnHnAOka-HSYgNbMtMDL_HcmPz4sGAAs-p4PgnKpcNGYLhvxCZtH9rrHF0c5DEfXEtv31bQ5AvuY3Dsxd1kixy/s400/photo.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey there :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07973396521617673418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-70067772919849333462013-08-14T09:13:00.000-07:002013-08-14T09:13:56.266-07:00Massively overdue<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkEg_0UR0PgOU_FfxLt7AEgZ9v3FcpAcsDNLvUbVTcoLqx2tu4_MyEu5EOdVobS3r-6mpZhUr8Yq2A6I_AJnNN2boctfNQmK70zw57acsXjZ-IL_n_VgPPAyN8V96AIJE2XqvI6mRB7-a6/s1600/image_4.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkEg_0UR0PgOU_FfxLt7AEgZ9v3FcpAcsDNLvUbVTcoLqx2tu4_MyEu5EOdVobS3r-6mpZhUr8Yq2A6I_AJnNN2boctfNQmK70zw57acsXjZ-IL_n_VgPPAyN8V96AIJE2XqvI6mRB7-a6/s320/image_4.jpeg" width="320" /></a>Thought I had abandoned this little gem in the sea of the blogiverse, didja? Nooooo... just very busy living life and, to be honest, I haven't really known what to share and what to keep to myself. Noel and I have been figuring our shit out and I'm finally ready to give an update, in lovely numbered-list-style!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3ZvHAmKWWjlEtcIXMxP7NoV2KCq7xQ6UAk8pJvR0zMluM7r9KhtjP6bCVsE7l3KyttkZqYQz6tThzG2x5ofGB97oaXJ4Q0__hs68-_onH9xBY-1YD3GCf5sBFXrdfQeCQUSv4AR9pbE-/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3ZvHAmKWWjlEtcIXMxP7NoV2KCq7xQ6UAk8pJvR0zMluM7r9KhtjP6bCVsE7l3KyttkZqYQz6tThzG2x5ofGB97oaXJ4Q0__hs68-_onH9xBY-1YD3GCf5sBFXrdfQeCQUSv4AR9pbE-/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying Japanese treats in our new pad.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>1. Home</b>: After several months of taking refuge with my boss/friend/landlord on the Rez we decided that we were ready to emerge from our feathery nest and take flight into the "real" world. It was easier said than done. I'm not sure why my experience of searching for apartments in Vermont didn't kick in and remind me that it's extremely difficult to rent anything outside of a barn with the small illegitimate petting zoo that we call a family, but it didn't. I idealistically logged onto Craigslist and Kijiji and started my search, finding all sorts of lovely little apartments nestled on the tree-lined streets of Hamilton. "Do you take pets?" was my question each time, and each time the answer was a resoundingly loud "Hellz NO!" or some similar unsympathetic rejection. We finally found a place after several missteps, refusals, botched lease signings and disappointments.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhHwSV1Pj-drmyvcbBdw0HqCdZekZYCPu17ZOlr9aQaoajnmPLPGLHBY2VH61-y72fkz_4BIJfOLWd8ke4nlvewiFsXtfzZl5c30ElH28_RnDOVpHkPm41b_84pXzxDC8tBkxu0roXt4J/s1600/photo3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhHwSV1Pj-drmyvcbBdw0HqCdZekZYCPu17ZOlr9aQaoajnmPLPGLHBY2VH61-y72fkz_4BIJfOLWd8ke4nlvewiFsXtfzZl5c30ElH28_RnDOVpHkPm41b_84pXzxDC8tBkxu0roXt4J/s320/photo3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Red Light District" (view from our kitchen window)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'll share more about our new place as time goes on, but for now what I'll mention is that we have landed in the north east end of Hamilton, which, for all you Hamiltonians out there will immediately serve as a mental picture of our new home and for all you Buffalonians out there, to give you a comparison, is very similar to the East side of Buffalo. Extremely economically depressed neighborhood in the oldest part of the city. Wonderful old steel-soot covered buildings mixed with a potpourri of horrid 70's architecture, a bedraggled lady of the night on many of the corners, and crack houses situated next to the homes of tidy old Italian and Polish grandmas. It's home, for now, and we're finding it better than we hoped. We're so close to so much. We're finding that Hamilton is a vibrant and interesting city similar to Buffalo in that it's an old steel town going through a bit of a Renaissance right now. So, we've been delving deeper into that world and will report on our experiences as they unfold.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMVSv869JbMxO291CnfOz_lO8249ITIV44gj4DALfbaMz3O8pCUkKG1KvbgMXvNauCIigDFQ7MklB1OS-8fQi73P-rzJXca1hpemFaXNGpsATAvLopzrxPeCJLcCXmy7Vb6Gl0wbGYaYZ/s1600/image_7.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMVSv869JbMxO291CnfOz_lO8249ITIV44gj4DALfbaMz3O8pCUkKG1KvbgMXvNauCIigDFQ7MklB1OS-8fQi73P-rzJXca1hpemFaXNGpsATAvLopzrxPeCJLcCXmy7Vb6Gl0wbGYaYZ/s320/image_7.jpeg" width="320" /></a>2.<b> Love</b>: Noel and I celebrated our 2nd wedding anniversary a couple weekends ago on July 20th. I'm grateful for having such a lovely partner who compliments me in so many ways yet still has his own thing going on. I'm grateful for our ups and downs, our willingness to work on them, our open and honest communication and our mutual love of this world. As Noel would say, we're "hitch hiking our way through the galaxy together"... I mustn't forget my towel!!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
3. <b>Job</b>: I'm still working at the clinic as a practice administrator to my boss/friend the MD and the Traditional Healer. It's been really interesting and not too stressful now that we're up and running. What my experience at that job has made me realize is that my interests really lie in the exploration and use of natural medicines to heal and help. As a western herbalist for the past decade or so I thought I had a decent amount of knowledge about herbs and their uses in a practical, take-care-of-your-family, kind of sense. Having been introduced to Haudenosaunee medicine has given me a gift of insight into another world of healing. I'm grateful for how I was brought here and definitely feel I'm being guided in an interesting direction. I'm sure I'll elaborate on this as life happens.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKmPquePK_xnPbRGI_EOP54bD7O-hGA-wKyDDOZJp_QEbrtOmrC_TaaJrtipMu5Fn-U61pqUPtzeyyOUvAsWDgaMCKUKDpz1JYdorDkuYkohXbhlTGzdlcLzZdUbAuN3UwH7Ls3Xsex7p7/s1600/photo2.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKmPquePK_xnPbRGI_EOP54bD7O-hGA-wKyDDOZJp_QEbrtOmrC_TaaJrtipMu5Fn-U61pqUPtzeyyOUvAsWDgaMCKUKDpz1JYdorDkuYkohXbhlTGzdlcLzZdUbAuN3UwH7Ls3Xsex7p7/s320/photo2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, sweetie, it'll all become clear soon!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
4.<b> Noel</b>: Well, I should let Noel post for himself, but will at least share that Noel continues to wrestle with the decision of whether starting school this fall is right for him. He's taken a job working for a coaster company in Dundas and is feeling the weight of realizing he's 43 and still hasn't found his work in this world. He was accepted to a local college's woodworking program and is trying to make it work financially. I love the idea of Noel going to school. I don't love the idea that we're living on the edge financially, and that his much needed education might push us over that edge, but I also want to be supportive and totally know he needs to do this. So, I'm trusting him to make it work if/when he goes. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfOB-AJx7CyTfP18Yl1rvffnQN9XplRCz9Ih3rWUvfwlHHMsuwqHXSn_-mdfGcYH_VaTGbPmjQOVADzG-aGHFbJSg6KwB8mTd0yfSJeNoI0uu9tmh27s7yD1ZKchQBdZ-keGRHxlS0lHXj/s1600/image_3.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfOB-AJx7CyTfP18Yl1rvffnQN9XplRCz9Ih3rWUvfwlHHMsuwqHXSn_-mdfGcYH_VaTGbPmjQOVADzG-aGHFbJSg6KwB8mTd0yfSJeNoI0uu9tmh27s7yD1ZKchQBdZ-keGRHxlS0lHXj/s400/image_3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luci & Lily chillin at Time Beach in Bee Eff Ell Oh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
5. <b>Friends & Family</b>: I haven't had much time or money for trips to Buffalo, but try to get there when I can. After about a month I start going through niece-withdrawal and need to get my Luci & Lily fix. It's always a lovely time hanging out with my sisters and aunt and brothers-in-law when I can get there. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8rqXzRsYJQcXO04JfcFsM02YuzgodY9l8a-n5HPCfDnsYdvkGcbb7orjUIc35veFadmPKYVO1dxPVHo1T9e1AiTqr28HY2hlvRU51uOJl27wpuI_zx9f77Born5rHmfRs5J-qBdgbt3J/s1600/image_1.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8rqXzRsYJQcXO04JfcFsM02YuzgodY9l8a-n5HPCfDnsYdvkGcbb7orjUIc35veFadmPKYVO1dxPVHo1T9e1AiTqr28HY2hlvRU51uOJl27wpuI_zx9f77Born5rHmfRs5J-qBdgbt3J/s400/image_1.jpeg" width="298" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQvBVbMJWNxZC0zCm51cpEw7PnNZRf5kz-sYl_CAHZYYxST7MtOqrteJurE2Meaf9O6YebRi9iRKwF6ujMBtnyZm20IFj0cIFgL8-uwftr3SqD7ro1nx65eLbX-NAFppJ6x8lav_AGWZ-/s1600/image_2.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a> <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I had a chance to stop by my friend Marian's home and amazing herbal center, Cat's Tail Farm Herbal Center. That was a true treat! Aside from seeing Marian again, I ran into some other dear friends, Joan and her husband Russ, and had a wonderful time learning about Marian's work with the Green Nations. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQvBVbMJWNxZC0zCm51cpEw7PnNZRf5kz-sYl_CAHZYYxST7MtOqrteJurE2Meaf9O6YebRi9iRKwF6ujMBtnyZm20IFj0cIFgL8-uwftr3SqD7ro1nx65eLbX-NAFppJ6x8lav_AGWZ-/s1600/image_2.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>The same weekend my friend Sundari who moved to northern Cali last year came back for her first visit. It was like she never left. We just kind of picked up where we left off, walking in the woods, drumming in circle together, and generally being the lovely supportive friends that we've been to one another since we started hanging out almost a decade ago. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSA34q0qO_8mWpYoDEIHZeZDJg6DjmhxTP_kuxK8fL4vzVKylnUVVtBfERPD83faxM4D_1AKuHmFHmRVjWH5AKIDRPGqgIGIxHRweauNWJgUgwNpzzuVEtoXxkJhhuuH5FDyjpwbxP5LyI/s1600/image_6.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSA34q0qO_8mWpYoDEIHZeZDJg6DjmhxTP_kuxK8fL4vzVKylnUVVtBfERPD83faxM4D_1AKuHmFHmRVjWH5AKIDRPGqgIGIxHRweauNWJgUgwNpzzuVEtoXxkJhhuuH5FDyjpwbxP5LyI/s320/image_6.jpeg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A couple weekends ago we had our first visitor to our new place. The woman who I just realized is my oldest friend, a girl I started hanging out with when our combined ages would equal less than the age of 20, the lovely, talented and ridiculously talented Jocelyn came to visit. I can still remember playing Dirty Barbies with her in her two bedroom walk up in Blasdell. We flitted off to our separate social circles in High School, but always remained friendly. We found each other through the social network and have been enjoying a pleasant reconnection.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Cd7AL5xRoe6koBl6t9JcfxyqaOX7n0MjP1B5olYMhiD9_vrsC2vqOL01gUBw0KsG3IbBfNGJQCUOXlu1bL1c6wPNd_KSHm4FA0vB713X40_4QDiQh4GxHs_Uqi0nHX6zY04tcsCKBzht/s1600/image_5.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Cd7AL5xRoe6koBl6t9JcfxyqaOX7n0MjP1B5olYMhiD9_vrsC2vqOL01gUBw0KsG3IbBfNGJQCUOXlu1bL1c6wPNd_KSHm4FA0vB713X40_4QDiQh4GxHs_Uqi0nHX6zY04tcsCKBzht/s320/image_5.jpeg" width="320" /></a>So, that's life in a nutshell. Extremely lifey, huh? Work and love and food and money and pets and friends and herbs and steeltown blues. I make no promises about when I'll post next, but now that my life is almost unpacked and we're feeling safe enough to put some roots down for at least a year, I'm sure that my next post will be a little sooner than my last!Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07973396521617673418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-70291225346434303832013-02-19T10:56:00.003-08:002013-02-19T10:56:35.211-08:00Of Mice and Men and all that comes with themIt's been too long since my last post. A week turned into two, which turned into a month, then another... I kept meaning to share everything that had happened in Vermont as it was occurring, but you know what they say about "best laid plans of mice and men..."- they seem to go awry. Life became massively overwhelming in Vermont- a survival game, really. By the end of the day I was so exhausted from my crazy stressful job that I hardly found time to make myself dinner, snuggle with my family and collapse. I've had this black cloud of worry sitting over my life- for many reasons- money, health, the health of our beasts, green cards (and the not-having of them), fraud, our physical and psychological safety- so many worries. <br />
<br />
It seems like a whole lifetime has happened in the short time between moving to Vermont, trying to make it work there, moving back from Vermont and finding a life here in Ontario again. Part of me feels like we failed at our mission, and then part feels like we were thrust into that experience to bring back something to share with this area, which is in such need of a more sustainable way of life. One thing is for sure- we are not through with Vermont! We definitely feel like our time there was well spent. A "Recon" mission in a way. We're back in Ontario because that's where the Universe dropped us, and we're grateful for where we landed, but we still feel the ache to breathe the fresh air of the Green Mountains and <i>that</i> is a very hard elixir to find freedom from.<br />
<br />
So, that leads to the question- where did we end up? Where did the constant tornado of our life drop us this time? Well, in some ways, we moved to another country entirely- again: we moved to the <a href="http://www.sixnations.ca/" target="_blank">Six Nations</a> of the Grand River Territory in Ohsweken, Ontario. Technically, we live in Caledonia, which borders the reservation, because Noel is not Native and that's only allowed with major exceptions for those who have contributed significantly to the community and who commit to allying themselves with the Onkwehonwe (Original People.) Maybe one day- the intention is good- but for now, we're living close enough to literally throw a baseball across the street to the Rez.<br />
<br />
My life has taken on some massive shifts. Before I left for Vermont, I worked for a local university as their "Aboriginal Communications & Liaison Officer"- a job that I loved well and knew I would miss. When entertaining the move the major impetus was a massively negative political situation at work that smacked of workplace bullying, really. I loved that job, and the people I worked with, and for. My biggest regret about leaving that job was that I was leaving behind a community that I had just started to really get to know. It was (is) a community that is embedded in my blood- my grandparents and their parents grew up there. I had very little contact with the "Rez" during my formative years. I was raised in a suburb of Buffalo, NY with few visits to Canada aside from our weekly Chinese food outing on Sundays just over the border in Ft. Erie and very occasional visits to Six Nations to celebrate weddings and funerals. <br />
<br />
Now we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of a whole different life. I work for a physician who has partnered with a Traditional Healer to bring a collaborative medical practice to the community. My other part time job is consulting as a Communications Officer for an Indigenous Knowledge Centre- I'm supporting a grant project whose focus is on translating Haudenosaunee ceremonies from the archives of the Smithsonian into "The Language" as it's called here. Mohawk, Cayuga, Oneida and Tuscarora mainly.<br />
<br />
So, I'm surrounded by my own culture- It's literally everywhere I go. I see it, hear it and feel it in a real way for the first time in my life. I feel like I'm just seeing the tip of a very large iceberg of another way to live. My dreams have been so intense since I started living here- full of animals (especially the bear) and mythical beings. My mom has been in a few of them, and most recently my (white) father, who I never dream of. I feel intimidated- by the intensity of the mistrust here, of me, of my husband, of our intentions- we're so new here in this tight knit and simultaneously intensely fractured community. I'm intimidated because I don't know the language, the social roles, the jokes, the judgements. I'm intimidated because, in some ways, I don't feel "Indian" enough. But what the hell does that even mean? I bleed the same blood as many here who have a white father. I think what I'm feeling is residual guilt- for not getting here sooner, not contributing sooner, not knowing that every one of us here who can manifest a "Good Mind" is absolutely needed to heal this culture, these people- MY people.<br />
<br />
I'll continue to post my experiences here- at least what I can of them. I've been welcomed hesitantly by the Traditional Healer that we share the practice with, by the Physician that I not only work for, but live with, and by some of my old colleagues. I've been learning of distant family connections who still live here (we don't all call each other "Cuz" for no reason!) and attended my first Longhouse ceremony (Midwinters!). I'm finding my way here- in a real way, my <i>own </i>way. I don't know where this will lead, but I'm willing to wait and listen, and for probably the first time in my life, I'm willing to be OK with not knowing, not having a plan, and trusting that IT will happen, whatever IT is.<br />
<br />
There's so much to post, but I feel like I needed to get this out of the way before I could move on to the events that have happened since I started this post last month. Not the least of which is the loss of our dear Penelope, who deserves a whole post all her own.<br />
<br />
Thanks for listening and empathizing with me. Feel free to comment and share anything you want! We want to hear from you! Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07973396521617673418noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-21081423123518203642013-02-19T07:59:00.000-08:002013-02-19T07:59:36.619-08:00Penny Penny Penny!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3uhuoPOzZFO5yrqbJJTNOrTvC7MJaTtBy-0JxKCmBijtcq97KwEgZcFZ5H3GXbkTaiAh6onsfCKUwf777gOIODCSq_Fi9rFBzslC5VgirCCTCuZpAfXIutEbSMFQ4KMft_kgOklY5FJI/s1600/97A2C937-1C98-4D20-B7C1-056DECBC34B7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3uhuoPOzZFO5yrqbJJTNOrTvC7MJaTtBy-0JxKCmBijtcq97KwEgZcFZ5H3GXbkTaiAh6onsfCKUwf777gOIODCSq_Fi9rFBzslC5VgirCCTCuZpAfXIutEbSMFQ4KMft_kgOklY5FJI/s640/97A2C937-1C98-4D20-B7C1-056DECBC34B7.JPG" width="476" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Penelope Morningstar!!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Very Great Dane.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Many readers no doubt know that our darling Great Dane Penelope, unfortunately developed bone cancer in September of 2012. As a result of seeing a clear lung x-ray, Stephanie and I elected to have the affected leg removed completely.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The transformation was remarkable. She went from a limping and listless dog, who was obviously in a great deal of discomfort, to a three-legged dog who rediscovered the urge to play and run around with other canines once more.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's not easy to put into words, just how attached one can be to a sweet creature like a dog. For those of you in the know, it needs no explanation. Every time she would pass between either of our legs, like the willing little horse she was, we couldn't help but scratch those sweet, floppy ears. Even as a three legged dog, she could not resist the urge to try to sit on either of our laps.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Here was a dog that was not unlike other dogs in her desire to be with her people (which included cats and guinea pigs). Penny wanted to be part of the action; to come along and be part of any adventure we undertook. She spent time in the mountains of Vermont and loved it just as much as romping at the Rockton Fairgrounds.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Penny was the gentlest and sweetest dog I've ever known. She was famously able to cuddle said guinea pigs quite appropriately. She played with little dogs as well as big dogs equally.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Just last week, our sweet dog began to show signs of being less lively than usual. We brought her to the veterinarian and much to our dismay (though unfortunately not to our surprise), we discovered that her cancer had returned and her time left with us became incredibly shortened. Just last Sunday, the 17th of February, we had the miserable task of taking our dear doggie, on her last car ride. We made sure stop for Timbits along the way.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After five vibrantly renewed months of life, it became time to take off her collar and so we sat on the floor at the emergency vet clinic and stroked our silky dog's ears and face, as she drifted off so peacefully to sleep the sleep she so greatly needed. Stephanie and I stayed with her for a while longer and we cried our eyes out.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's now a few days later and the house seems palpably emptier and it's going to take time to adjust to the fact that Penny isn't just sleeping on the furniture in the other room. She doesn't need her dog dish any more and she won't need me to bring her outside. That really hurts! I can't change that though.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I know we did the right thing; she was so uncomfortable right at the end. I don't think she was in pain, but she seemed so ready to rest.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Penny, if you're reading this somewhere, off in the great beyond, I want to thank you for being our dog-and oh what a great dog you were. I want to you to know that Emma and all the other animals really miss you; especially Emma though. I want to encourage your doggy spirit to come and visit us whenever you feel like you want your ears scratched.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We love you sweet dog...may you rest in peace...after you've had a good run in the fields of the great beyond!!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15024804524778120696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-85632786477423438952012-12-21T11:40:00.001-08:002012-12-21T11:40:39.811-08:00The End of DesireWell, the darkest day of the year is upon us and I am feeling it literally and figuratively. Noel and I have been struggling since we arrived in Vermont. There's a definitive difference between being a visitor here and making a year-round home here. Those of us who have been enchanted by the gentle, rocky folds and furrows of the Green Mountains are easily beckoned here, but living here in the winter isn't for the faint of heart. You have to be prepared- you need a job that's close to if not <i>in</i> your own home, you need a small, super heat efficient home, you need a ton of wood, solar panels help, and a car with good snows and all wheel drive. Oh, and did I mention that legally being able to work in the country would be a good way to prepare? Yeah.<br />
<br />
We have some of those things, but definitely not all. I have to say that in the middle of the summer, laying on a warm rock next to a spring-fed pond, staring up at the stars, belly full of organic veggies, raw milk and honey, Vermont seemed like the perfect place to be- and it was. On the other side of the Winter Solstice, we're learning a huge lesson: be prepared- <i>over</i> prepared. Be self sufficient. Own your own land and home. Live close to it. Save like that proverbial squirrel. Take out pet insurance. Don't trust strangers- even innocuous elderly strangers who seem like they couldn't hurt a fly.<br />
<br />
There's an undertone to that first paragraph- of regret, of lessons learned too late, of idealization-turned-realization. Let's just say we were schooled here in Vermont and tonight, the shift from the growing weight of the dark to the glowing light of the growing sun, we are moving onto our next phase. Yes, we're moving- again. To safe, dry, warm and welcoming pastures- complete with free healthcare and jobs for all: Ontario. We're heading back home. We're calling this time here a "recon mission" so that we don't feel like absolute failures. I know, I know. We're not failures. Things happen, <i>life happens</i>. We feel chewed up and spit out, but humbly wiser.<br />
<br />
One of the reasons that we decided to move on was because we lost one of our housemates- a 67 year old woman who shall remain nameless (because I can't be sure that the name she gave was even her real one, although I think it is based on a Google search.) Let's call her "Debra Jones". We made friends with Debra while wwoofing at the retreat center we were slated to take over caretaking in northern VT. She had been aggressively emailing our friends, the current caretakers, in response to a help wanted ad for an assistant to the master gardener. I remember our friend Denise talking about this woman who wanted the job, an academe from New Hampshire who was "on sabbatical" from her disability law job at a New England college and wanted a simpler life. Apparently she was so aggressive about interviewing for the position that one day, she just showed up, with the remainder of her life in the back of her Honda CRV.<br />
<br />
Debra got the job- due to no small effort on her part- and quickly unpacked her belongings into a tiny 300 square foot cottage. She and Noel quickly made friends and I followed soon after, once we had established that we were both sick of our highly political university jobs. She came across as an oenophile, world traveler, educated and quick witted woman at the end of her career looking for simplicity and quiet. We bonded over bottles of good Oregonian wine (where she supposedly has a house, vineyard and llama farm), stories of our travels throughout the world, philosophy, and eventually the weird drama that usually ensues at a retreat center where all sorts of folks stop through on their way to their next free ride.<br />
<br />
Noel and I left for Ontario after a lovely 2 week stay feeling we had gained a friend. We kept in touch over the summer and shared our plans to move to Vermont. As the day grew closer for us to move, we spoke with Debra about her next steps after the gardening gig was over in the autumn. She said that she was most likely going to move on, but would like to stay near her mother, a Jewish woman born in France (exactly like our friend Denise's mother, conveniently) who was currently living in Montreal. We mentioned how it would be nice to share a living space with her since she and we had become close, and she concurred.<br />
<br />
Do you see what I'm getting at here? "Supposedly", "Conveniently", "Apparently"- these are all adverbs that foreshadow impending untruth. I won't bore you with the whole story, but let's just say that there was a woman living in our home that we realized we knew nothing about.<br />
<br />
Ok, I'll bore you- just a <i>little</i>, for posterity. <br />
<br />
I felt red flags pop up from time to time during wine-soaked conversations in which she would slip up and tell a story two, sometimes three different ways. First her mother lived in California and played a round of golf every day, then she lived in Montreal and wintered in Hawaii. She had three PhD's and later it was five. She was a Francophone but that quickly developed into speaking five languages fluently, including Cantonese. At the beginning of our friendship she had a "partner" and was a graduate of Berkley, then she was married to a Senegalese Thoracic surgeon who she met while attending Yale. Then her story shifted and she didn't meet her husband until much later in life while living in Oregon.<br />
<br />
She moved in to our apartment and left the very next day to visit a friend in an ashram, saying she'd be back three days later with the rent money she still owed us. Seven days later we wondered where she was and became worried. Finally she sent a cryptic email that simply said "Sorry for not being in touch sooner- death in the family. Be back soon." Apparently, her Senegalese Thoracic Surgeon of a husband was working in the Sudan for Medecins Sans Frontieres and was killed while transporting a patient. Something didn't sit right in me with this. How could we ask a grieving woman for rent money? It was too convenient.<br />
<br />
She told us so many stories that it was hard to remember them all, and we chalked our hesitancy to believe her on our own bad memories, or maybe we hadn't listened to her closely enough, or maybe it was the wine...<br />
<br />
Almost a month had gone by, no rent to speak of and Noel and I feeling the fear of impropriety of asking a grieving woman for rent money wane. She became a recluse, a shadow of her former self, haunting our home like a spectre, rarely coming down from her room aside from getting the occasional item from the fridge. Her money was "tied up in Paris" where she and her husband shared an apartment. She said that until she could get to France to collect his remains and unfreeze their bank accounts she wouldn't have any cash. That was the last straw. The Google search ensued. I found nothing with a PhD after her name but did confirm that she worked for a college in New Hampshire, not as the high-level Director she said she was, but as the last wrung on the org structure of her department (no shame in that, but also not the truth.) No husband, no one by his name working for Medecins Sans Frontieres, no llama farm. Nothing. I found very little else about her, and still couldn't be totally sure that her name was "Debra Jones" until I added the word "Oregon" to the Google search. That's when the final nail in her coffin was hammered home for me. An obituary. Her mother- complete with a photo of a woman who looked exactly like her but 30 years older. She was neither alive nor in Montreal, nor was she Jewish. Not only had she not been born in France, her obituary proudly stated that she had never even stepped foot out of Oregon.<br />
<br />
There were a period of days where Noel and I were dumbfounded and to be honest, a little afraid. There was a person living in our home, rent free, who we realized that not only did we know nothing about, but who had been actively and very creatively lying to us. What could she be capable of? Was she going to steal from us? Hurt us or our animals? Kill us in our sleep? When the mystery of someone's intentions becomes a blank slate, anything is possible. We finally confronted her- in the early morning. I think she must have known, I feel like she listened in on a phone conversation I had with our common friend Denise, because that morning she got up at 4am and chanted for about 2 hours. Very loudly. She lied through the whole thing. It was like peeling off layers of lies. She would come clean about certain things but play dumb on others. She absolutely denied that her mother lived in Oregon, that she had just visited her in Montreal that weekend, but when it came down to it, she relinquished her false grip on reality and admitted that she had dug herself deep into a hole of lies with many people and was simply a 67 year old woman who "still can't get her shit together."<br />
<br />
She left about a month ago. We continued to struggle- with the stress of a job that is completely not right for me, with the sadness and stress of Penelope's health crisis, with the loss our our sweet DaphneCat and the additional loss of a great deal of money due to a technical glitch. All roads were pointing home to Ontario, but we tried like hell to figure it out. I found another job, but it was far away from where we lived and couldn't find housing. I lost my job here in Waitsfield. Time is ticking away for Noel as a Canadian visitor and the funds we saved to apply for his green card were long gone, spent on vet bills. I've never been so broke in my life.<br />
<br />
A friend, an old colleague really, from my previous position at McMaster, called the other night and offered me a job managing a new traditional healing center she's opening on the Rez up on Six Nations. Not only did she offer me a job, she offered me a pet-friendly home with all utilities and rent paid for. It may not be Vermont, but we'll take it! So, we're heading back to Ontario, to our community, to regroup and save. Noel is going back to school there and I'll probably join him in the fall. If there's one thing I've learned about being Native- we take care of each other. My mother and grandparents always made room at our dinner table, or in our basement, for someone in need. No questions asked, no stories told. I felt horrible about Debra, knowing that she needed a safe place to stay warm. She ultimately made the choice to leave, not us. The weight of her lies was too heavy - it thickened the air to the point where no one in our house could breathe. I'm not blaming her for our departure- I feel that was already written in the stars for us- but I do take a huge lesson from this experience. Unfortunately, it's one of trust and not meting it out without care and consideration.<br />
<br />
I think I needed to get through this dark part of our story to feel the light that's coming today. The Debra thing is and will always be a mystery to us and I kind of like it that way. We can make up our own story about her. If you've read this far, I thank you for listening and not judging. If I know you, I appreciate your compassion and support. If I don't know you I thank you just the same. This experience, this time here in the Green Mountains, it's been magical and beautiful and a lesson that everything is a little weirder in Vermont. People can be themselves here more than other places- which is why so many crazies as well as real, authentic folks like us feel called here. We're taking that home with us- that authenticity. We'll find raw milk and organic veggies and sustainable building techniques in Ontario- it might not be as easy to find as here, but it's there if we want it. It's everywhere- we just need to create it. What I've learned is that if we want our world to feel more whole, more green, more conscious, then we need to become more whole, more green and more conscious. Like the wisdom that I've shared so many other times from the Charge of the Goddess: <i>"... you who seek to know Me, know that the seeking and yearning will
avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek,
you find not within yourself, you will never find it without. For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am That which is attained at the end of desire."</i>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07973396521617673418noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-59535590584481240912012-11-28T08:55:00.000-08:002012-11-28T09:10:47.304-08:00Strange Waters<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Strange Waters</u></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I've seen a high cairn kissed by holy wind
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Seen a mirror pool cut by golden fins
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Seen alleys where they hide the truth of cities
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The mad whose blessing you must accept without pity
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
I've stood in airports guarded glass and chrome
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Walked rifled roads and landmined loam
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Seen a forest in flames right down to the road
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Burned in love till I've seen my heart explode
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You've been leading me
Beside strange waters
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Across the concrete fields of man
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sun ray like a camera pans
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Some will run and some will stand
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Everything is bullshit but the open hand
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You've been leading me
Beside strange waters
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Streams of beautiful lights in the night
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But where is my pastureland in these dark valleys?
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
If I loose my grip, will I take flight?
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You've been leading me
Beside strange waters
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Streams of beautiful lights in the night
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But where is my pastureland in these dark valleys?
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
If I loose my grip, will I take flight?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bruce Cockburn</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/nPDKWnA54fQ?rel=0" width="480"></iframe><br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm not sure why I'm posting a blog based on this song. I guess it's because it's both musically and lyrically SO evocative; brooding and yet somehow hopeful.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I think that's me lately: brooding and yet somehow hopeful.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We have dealt with so much since coming here and it has really tested me at times.</div>
<ul>
<li>The move was punctuated by the fervently unhappy sound of felines and hills that threatened to stall our vehicle.</li>
<li>We lost one of our family members, our sweet Daphne cat, to the uncaring Highway 100. </li>
<li>Our big dog Penelope ended up being worse off than we thought and needed to have her leg removed to stop the cancer. I'm so glad she is well now.</li>
<li>We've had such tight times with money.</li>
<li>I've wrestled with my sense of identity and purpose and self-worth.</li>
<li>We are having to deal with a housemate that has a largely fictitious sense of reality. We are striving to make her come back and remove all her things.</li>
<li>We have sought and sought for places that allow people with pets to rent.</li>
</ul>
I was talking to Stephanie last night and wondering if this is what pioneers feel like?<br />
<br />
<br />
Bruce recounts all the things he's seen and asks where his pastureland is, amidst the dark valleys. He wonders if he should loosen his grip, will he take flight? Will he be swept away?<br />
<br />
I guess I wonder the same thing at times.<br />
<br />
I recall a picture I saw online somewhere. Here, let me share it:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSeeKE3uubj2eWbueSp1rJVZ1FRShjaaMWM8cTZcZxUNFCpc5gz4eNyb99XNwgj5M2oyF0ZRrSHh14DtCmKlPASbY3XAZ-Iw5j0nZFjd6nX2-JBGoVp-42TuKYq41HVeTyqxF6dzzP5uw/s1600/Untitled-1175.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSeeKE3uubj2eWbueSp1rJVZ1FRShjaaMWM8cTZcZxUNFCpc5gz4eNyb99XNwgj5M2oyF0ZRrSHh14DtCmKlPASbY3XAZ-Iw5j0nZFjd6nX2-JBGoVp-42TuKYq41HVeTyqxF6dzzP5uw/s320/Untitled-1175.png" width="238" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
...well, I DO believe that.<br />
<br />
<br />
Before this adventure, I knew that it was going to be an adventure and it's been that for sure.<br />
I have to remember that adventures are by their very nature, often frightening things. The adventurer sets off after something and along the way is caused to suffer at times and break open. How else can the caterpillar emerge as the butterfly if it doesn't undergo this transformation?<br />
<br />
I find myself wrung out and feeling spent at times and know only that if I don't keep treading water and/or swimming, then I will surely sink.<br />
I will have none of that.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I feel like I need to hold on tight to something...anything, to try and retain my sense of security at the uncertain times.<br />
This reminds me of how fruitless it is to be grasping. Buddhists speak of not grasping, trying to hold onto ANYTHING because EVERYTHING is impermanent.<br />
<br />
So, I see now why I gravitate toward this song right now. I am amazed and in awe of all the things I have seen and experienced thus far in my life; all the things that have led me to where I am right now.<br />
I see myself grasping and trying to hold on in this flurry of circumstances and I ask myself, if I loose my grip, will I take flight?<br />
<br />
<br />
Isn't that what I want...to emerge from my constraining chrysalis, spread my wings, loose my grip and take flight?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMdCy272jABHTjLj03dhaot3L4y0pYLvkDOwizrN4-3KTPpa-E_20rCtBrz9iBmqV8mfoVq8MXslPhBeeo09tlfNjvz6oAwgbWGQnCg_2e6OA5RUtmWufqHpFVQPkrtJp0BzfPjbmBTDU/s1600/monarch-butterfly-transparent-background-0350-10008.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMdCy272jABHTjLj03dhaot3L4y0pYLvkDOwizrN4-3KTPpa-E_20rCtBrz9iBmqV8mfoVq8MXslPhBeeo09tlfNjvz6oAwgbWGQnCg_2e6OA5RUtmWufqHpFVQPkrtJp0BzfPjbmBTDU/s320/monarch-butterfly-transparent-background-0350-10008.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15024804524778120696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-50783940209128144262012-11-15T13:17:00.002-08:002012-11-15T13:17:48.130-08:00DragonflyI want to share this amazing music with you guys. I met <a href="http://mirandarondeau.com/" target="_blank">Miranda Rondeau</a> when she performed a beautiful song for us on her 18" snared frame drum as a part of the opening ceremony of the <a href="http://www.gaiafestival.com/" target="_blank">Gaia Festival</a>, a labor of love that my dear friend <a href="http://www.mythicrhythm.com/" target="_blank">Kris</a> and I partnered on back in 2007 & 2008. Miranda is a gentle, quiet and compassionate woman who transforms into a sumptuous, grounded, flowing and powerfully decisive Goddess when she picks up her frame drum and finds her voice. I remember sharing our stories of how we found the frame drum that weekend in California. We both were inspired by the same woman, <a href="http://layneredmond.com/Home.html" target="_blank">Layne Redmond</a>, to begin learning and working with the frame drum. Miranda had taken one of Layne's workshops some years earlier and I took Layne's "Bee Priestess Frame Drum Training" at the Kripalu Institute- and both of our worlds were opened. Miranda, of course, has excelled from a student to a teacher. I'm still learning. Enjoy.<br />
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="100" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/v=2/track=1213516826/size=venti/bgcol=FFFFFF/linkcol=4285BB/" style="display: block; height: 100px; position: relative; width: 400px;" width="400"><a href="http://theluvampproject.bandcamp.com/track/dragonfly">Dragonfly by Miranda Rondeau</a></iframe>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07973396521617673418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-65505841757610007362012-11-02T14:31:00.001-07:002012-11-02T14:31:45.211-07:00Life: It Gets in the Way. Life has been moving faster than I can keep up with lately. I'm being pulled, pushed, scrunched and squished into making decisions and just plan "dealing" with stuff because of massive deadlines and emergent issues. As of my last post, we had lost our housing with no viable alternative with an exit date in our current place of November 1st; and had just dealt with the immediate and necessary amputation of our dog's leg to save her life.<br />
<br />
Fast forward a week. If you could see my life fast forwarded in Guy-Ritchie-esque mode right now, you would see something like this: chop! ouch! tears... scary haunted house! ooooh nice house but too expensive... batten down hatches for Hurricane Sandy... tears... oh, that was a big bust (for us)... asshole landlord didn't like cats... tears... housemates now an option! perfect house! infection... crazy dreams... tears... TODAY.<br />
<br />
So, basically, we found a house, lost the house, found another (really haunted) house, decided we'd rather live in our car than have to live in that house, found another house that was the perfect fit, but when we went to put a deposit down on the house the landlord acted like a total dick and professed his absolute loathing hatred of cats (we have 3) so we were back to square one. All this with ONE day to go.<br />
<br />
Luckily, a wonderful woman reached out and extended the offer to rent a lovely condo unit in a community called Prickly Mountain. It's a community full of crazy houses designed by crazier people. Perfect. It's expensive, so we're sharing it with two friends. I'm sure that at some point I'll share more on the experience, but so far we've all gotten along and have discussed boundaries and responsibilities. It wasn't something I envisioned, sharing a home with people I don't feel comfortable walking around naked in front of, but hey- at least it's not haunted!<br />
<br />
Penelope is bouncing back pretty quickly. She went from being depressed and not eating to jumping up when she hears food being dished out and wants to sit smack dab in our laps again. She has a surface infection that hopefully will go away with antibiotics and frequent ice packs, but other than that our grrrl's life expectancy has increased from 3 painful months to possible multiple pain-free years.<br />
<br />
I keep meaning to write more about my experience of living here in the Mad River Valley, but life keeps getting in the way. Maybe that's what I need to write about. Maybe the name of this blog should be "Life: It Gets in the Way." It's not that I didn't realize that being a tourist in a place is very different from living in that area, but a part of me thought I'd have more time to actually enjoy the amazingly beautiful land and community we're surrounded by. I do have some photos and experiences that I will share more on as things settle down. I don't want this blog to serve as a venting tool only. <br />
<br />
The one thing this week that has really touched me and made me realize that we're all in this together- that we are not alone- is the amazing generosity of the friends, family and friends of friends and family who have given to Penny's vet bills fund. I didn't expect such an outpouring of heartfelt generosity from people! Someone I don't even know gave a huge gift! And some friends that I absolutely know have no money gave what they felt they could afford. That touched me more than I can articulate in a blog post right now. If I could give a huge hug to each one of you that's contributed, re-posted on your Facebook pages, forwarded emails, called, stopped by the house, I would. Maybe one day. But for now, you'll have to take my virtual love.Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07973396521617673418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-73752416061323144742012-10-26T17:49:00.001-07:002012-10-26T17:55:11.225-07:00Eye of the StormSo, it's been a crazy week. I've been trying to find the time to stay sane during the tsunami of changes that have occurred since I last posted. I'm absolutely exhausted, but feel the need to vent- and share- what has been pulling me away from finding the time to not only blog, but eat, shower, hell, even just laugh.<br />
<br />
We moved here last month on a wing and a prayer- sold most of our stuff, I quit my cushy job in academia, left a country that offers free health care to stay in Vermont and get an education in Sustainable living. Noel planned on going to <a href="http://www.yestermorrow.org/" target="_blank">Yestermorrow Design Build School</a> and I planned on learning by proxy.<br />
<br />
Well, you know what They say about "best laid plans" and all...<br />
<br />
We landed at a sweet little apartment in Hancock, VT. Tiny, but sufficient for our needs. Then our dog Penelope started limping. She had a little strange limp in Ontario but it went away after the vet gave her some meds and all our plans went back on schedule. We made a 2 day journey with a U-haul, fleabag motel stopover in bumblef%$# nowhere, and got here relatively unscathed. Then the limp came back. We went to a wonderful vet here in VT- <a href="http://www.vtintegrativevet.com/" target="_blank">Vermont Integrative Veterinary Associates</a> (VIVA) who combine Holistic and Western medicine. They concurred with the previous vet's findings that Penny had a ligament injury that would need a LONG time to heal. They suggested- almost insisted- that we find a place on a first floor since Penny hadn't been able to use her leg to help her up the stairs. So, we started searching for a place.<br />
<br />
Do you know how hard it is to rent an apartment or house with 2 dogs, 4 cats, 2 guinea pigs and a snake? Of course you don't, because you're probably not bat shit crazy like we are.<br />
<br />
We eventually found a place that seemed like it would work out for us- nothing special, but closer to my job and in a woodsy area. Hands were shaken, promises were made, money and dates were discussed. Notice was given to our current landlords who rented our apartment out immediately to some local folks.<br />
<br />
When Noel went to meet our new landlord, he was met with a less-than-lovely surprise. Apparently, he was less than comfortable with the idea of cats and had a change of heart. "Too many cats.." he said as he shook his head. But... we gave notice! We're supposed to be out November 1st! No matter- he didn't care. Noel sent me an IM to let me know the bad news and went off to the vet to have Penny's leg X-ray done.<br />
<br />
Three hours later, he came to get me from work and broke the news- she has Osteosarcoma. The hunch I had about her leg not healing right was more than a hunch. She has the C-word. (<i>cancer</i>) I whisper it- this word has impacted my life and taken too many of my loved ones from me in the past 3 years. First my mother, so unexpectedly and heartbreakingly in April of 2009. My dad followed her almost 2 months to the day- in June 2009. Our cat Butter, too. Noel has his own cancer dealings, too- his dad in 2008. Hell, we ALL have someone we know who has either battled, fought and survived or someone who valiantly fell. It's a constant fear for everyone, and a reality for too many people.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzIrn1AtRNzftQP0CxH5JMcjB_cR_ZhPdePZeVNU3FaY_YnSNGHpsy-7eUG48wEVXZgtB5lnJVrydDAmQ18ozTxByBlYaN6VlfPYhZWBzidYhfwWuBCj6OhnXlmzb7FvPre7pIhadkxi2/s1600/680537_10151460744217678_2125401785_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzIrn1AtRNzftQP0CxH5JMcjB_cR_ZhPdePZeVNU3FaY_YnSNGHpsy-7eUG48wEVXZgtB5lnJVrydDAmQ18ozTxByBlYaN6VlfPYhZWBzidYhfwWuBCj6OhnXlmzb7FvPre7pIhadkxi2/s1600/680537_10151460744217678_2125401785_o.jpg" width="320" /></a>This week has been one of the most challenging weeks I've had since my parents passed away. The idea that we have less than a week to find shelter, well, that was enough. When Noel took Penny in for her lung x-ray today (to find out if the cancer had spread to her lungs) the challenge-ometer registered Tidal Wave proportions, at least for what I'm used to. They recommended immediate amputation. Not "let's get this scheduled for sometime next week" or even "we should do this in the next few days"... TODAY. To save her life, this sweet, dopy, gorgeous dog that wakes me up every morning with a kiss, we have to cut off her LEG- <i>TODAY</i>. We only had a few moments to let it sink in. What was I going to do? How can we even come up with the money? The vet was so kind- he is letting us pay over 4 months. It's still an unmanageable debt for us, but at least we have 4 months to come up with a way to raise the money. Freelance work, extra job, selling bath salts, maybe male stripping- it would all be worth saving our sweet grrrl.<br />
<br />
So, as I type this a Tripawd doggie lays next to me, sleepily and painfully getting used to the missing leg that once caused her so much pain. A friend suggested I start a <a href="http://www.giveforward.com/penelopemorningstar" target="_blank">crowdfunding campaign, which I've done</a> and shared all over. I have to say, this has made me really appreciate community, and made me so grateful for what I DO have. I have a loving and amazing partner in life, I have loving and amazing family, awesome friends, a job that I appreciate more than I can tell you. But do you know what I really appreciate more than anything right now? That big old tongue waking me up in the morning...Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07973396521617673418noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-90168522738636844412012-10-22T09:50:00.000-07:002012-10-22T09:50:20.185-07:00Just a little bit...<span style="font-family: inherit;">This isn't going to be a long blog entry.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't feel like I have a lot to say today. I guess I should be finishing dishes and putting away clothes and entertaining animals and such things. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am. I will again soon, I am just taking a small break.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today I feel kind of vulnerable and a little bit lonely.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't have a lot of daily routine these days and I know that that's a lot of why I feel this way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't expect anybody to 'make things all better for me' or anything like that. I know I need to find more productive and more fulfilling ways to use my time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm a bit bored and a bit blue feeling today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I want to be perfectly clear that I'm not writing this to garner sympathy and I'm not feeling sorry for myself per se.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My wife is a busy woman and a very hard worker. I love her dearly. She is a source of comfort for me lately. She is necessarily gone all day and it's a long day.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our living situation is not yet finalised. It should be soon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">These things make me feel uncertain and lonely sometimes; there's a fair feeling of uncertainty in me lately and I just happened to remember that I'm part of a blog wherein I can record my thoughts and feelings and know I need no approval-I'll not be judged. For that, I am grateful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you self, for taking the time to record my thoughts and feelings. Thank you reader(s?) for reading my words.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now back to our regularly scheduled program.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15024804524778120696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-68797047036022708472012-10-17T18:13:00.000-07:002012-10-17T18:13:09.427-07:00Passing Through the Iris of the WorldThat's what I'm listening to right now as I sit and type this after a long couple of weeks. <a href="http://youtu.be/fGn67XdaxgA" target="_blank">"The Iris of the World"</a> by Bruce Cockburn. My husband Noel introduced me to Bruce Cockburn, who I had never really heard of, aside from being the dude from the 80's that made the Bare Naked Ladies famous. Noel has introduced me to more interesting music in the past three years than anyone I've thus far had the pleasure to know. He isn't loyal to any specific genre or era, rather, he sees beauty and skilled craftsmanship in things that, until now, I had only listened to with closed ears. (ie: I've never been a fan of classic rock and had completely written off Pink Floyd until watching the Dark Side of Oz with him.) He hears music for music and he's helped me listen to music like it's something that was just created yesterday.<br />
<br />
Music shaped him. It shaped us separately and as a couple. It has worn a meandering and deeply-carved path through our lives as they've continued to entwine over the years. When we lived apart, in 2 different countries, during the hot, passionate, longing, newly-formed-star of our relationship, Noel would send me lyrics. I knew that he was trying to say something that he couldn't articulate any other way. I gratefully received those words and felt this thread in my core pulling me into loving him. To being in love <i>with</i> him.<br />
<br />
His musical taste was (and still is) confusing and totally different than what I'm used to. We have some overlap with similar likes and dislikes, but his taste goes far and wide where mine is pretty linear and defined. I have a long-running and deep-seeded relationship with Jazz but also have a complex relationship with the indie hipster world of "new music." We're both percussionists, which connected us at first. When I first met him I totally misjudged him by his eccentric appearance and age and grouped him in with the Hipsters. Now that I know him I know that Slim Gaillard's <a href="http://youtu.be/BiN9Wv61FJE" target="_blank">"Chicken Rhythm"</a> impresses him more than Pavement's "Shady Lane." One day he'd send me the lyrics to some <a href="http://www.cockburnproject.net/songs&music/lnotw.html" target="_blank">mysterious, deep song</a> and the next day it would be <a href="http://www.lyricsdepot.com/bjork/venus-as-a-boy.html" target="_blank">"Venus as a Boy"</a>- such a playful and sexy song! My heart skipped a proverbial and literal beat. My knees went weak. My pulse raced. I would drive and drive and listen to Kurt Elling's homage to John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman, <a href="http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=33197#.UH9G3RgWUZ0" target="_blank">"Dedicated to You"</a>, and let the sheer force of new love fill me, leaving no room for the pain and sadness that formed the undercurrent of my life during those first days.<br />
<br />
I feel like I wasted a lot of my life trying to keep myself in
this confined understanding of what the world is or should be. To
listen through my judgement and stay open to an experience, that was
something that came with growing up. I once worked with a guy who said
that he never listened to music for emotional impetus. It seemed like
such a foreign and grown-up thing to say. I never fully understood that.
Now that I'm an adult I gather that he was most likely using the mask
of postmodern detachment to protect himself from being hurt. <br />
<br />
What I love about Noel's love of music is that it has paved the way for my ears to open up to the present. He finds deep joy in music and loves listening to joyous music. It's a liberating feeling to allow one's self to experience joy! I grew up in the jaded Goth/Grunge days when the more demotivated and bored you were, the cooler you were. Joy isn't something I felt comfortable with. It seemed too sappy, too gluttonous, too naive. Siouxsie Sioux wasn't happy, and dammit, neither was I. As I've aged, grown wiser, gotten happier, I've let the joy start to seep into the cracks in my life. Music is a great vehicle for that. EnJOY!!!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/PLqb64Pb9So" width="420"></iframe>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07973396521617673418noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-23564325187586146032012-10-08T05:52:00.001-07:002012-10-08T05:55:11.421-07:00What's In A Handshake?<br />
I can't vote here in the United States, although if I could, I'd think about voting for Emily Peyton.<br />
<br />
Who is she? She's a gubernatorial candidate in Vermont. Here is the link to her website:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.emilypeyton.org/">http://www.emilypeyton.org/</a><br />
<br />
Take a moment and have a look at it. Especially, notice the sparkles radiating from her right hand.<br />
Pretty fancy, eh?<br />
<br />
I met her on the weekend ever so briefly. She must have been out campaigning and showed up to talk to the innkeepers here. I got introduced to her.<br />
<br />
Here is a woman who I heard on Vermont Public Radio (VPR). She has notions that I think might be considered radical by some, but by others they might seem like notions that are long overdue.<br />
Particularly, she is very much about causing a resurgence in the use of industrial hemp as an alternative to oil. In fact, fossil oil was once the alternative to hemp and flax seed oils.<br />
<br />
Here is a list of links that she has on her site and they include GMO labelling; global warming; Ford's hemp car.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.emilypeyton.org/#/links/4569317517">http://www.emilypeyton.org/#/links/4569317517</a><br />
<br />
I think that sometimes people propose ideas that others might find scary or think unusual just because these ideas don't conform to what many of us have become used to thinking. Her thoughts on hemp and cannabis probably scare those who are not informed at all about this plant's benefits. I think Vermont would be a place that could truly benefit from such thinking and could bear the torch and lead the way for others.<br />
<br />
Well, I got to shake her hand. I extended my right arm and she extended her right arm (you know, the one with the sparkles emanating from it on her website) and our hands came together in a nice, conventional seeming handshake. That's where I thought it would end. The old ONE STAGE clasping of hands and a shake. Imagine my surprise when, as I went to conclude the handshake, she proceeded to the SECOND AND THIRD stages of the 'cool' kind of handshake.<br />
<br />
If you don't know this one, it doesn't necessarily mean you aren't cool. The complete shake goes like this:<br />
<br />
1) begins with usual hand shake grip<br />
2) both hands then sort of swing downward so that the fingers are now grasping the back of each others thumbs<br />
3) then as the shake concludes, the fingers sort of slide along each others hands toward the fingertips as if to say, 'Yeah, you're cool man! I can dig it!'<br />
<br />
Like I say, if you know this handshake, you'll recognise it immediately and appreciate it like I did.<br />
<br />
I told Stephanie about our introduction and handshake and then actually did the handshake with her and Stephanie grinned and said she thought that was really cool.<br />
<br />
I showed my neighbour and he said he wished that had happened to him.<br />
<br />
I'm not really that political but I can see when someone wants to affect a change and has progressive ideas and I think this woman is someone like that. I can't vote here in the United States, although if I could, I'd think about voting for Emily Peyton.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15024804524778120696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-85904965032832982992012-10-03T11:48:00.002-07:002015-12-15T22:24:10.792-08:00The Journey<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitqt_DRZ6QbM8OqsM07cQsP9-mf5Xzc6J6v_0khBASd6Gcy6yXU03l0aMmQn-p3MPr-dwIsOlBRwECUCeUBq6d3RSHBgGtq9CeHZteBo3ROZxnPlSWGk9vbzYtFYiugTgEiUMBH6zfaMwC/s1600/Fall1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitqt_DRZ6QbM8OqsM07cQsP9-mf5Xzc6J6v_0khBASd6Gcy6yXU03l0aMmQn-p3MPr-dwIsOlBRwECUCeUBq6d3RSHBgGtq9CeHZteBo3ROZxnPlSWGk9vbzYtFYiugTgEiUMBH6zfaMwC/s200/Fall1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Autumn in the Mad River Valley, Vermont.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This is my first post, the first of many posts, on this new blog. It's a work in progress I share with my husband Noel, a wonderful Canadian man, whose astute vibrancy and gentle spirit can't be contained by mere mortals (nor should it be)!!! We decided to put together something that could serve as a document of our lives and experiences as two people who are constantly surrendering, learning, growing, loving and, yes, eating! Come here if you want to read all about our lives, what we love, what fills our souls, what we're afraid of, what makes us happy, what brings tears of love and confusion to our eyes, our hopes, our dreams, our pasts and what we learned from them, all sorts of lists of what fills our minds, hearts and hands. There's no formula for this process, no concept or deliverable we need to fulfill. It's a creative outlet, a way to share a bit of our life.<br />
<br />
I put a lot of my own time and effort into designing this, as I did with my other, now-defunct, blog. I take such pleasure in the design process, from the planning and visualization to the collaboration of my aesthetic with Noel's, to the final curseword-filled coding process. Anyone who reads this for more than a season will notice the constant shifts and changes of the visual structure of this site. It's a mirror for our lives, an amalgamation of both Noel's as well as my own visual "branding", so I want it to look like it! Never the same, never static, always changing, but with integrity and wholeness.<br />
<br />
Sharing a blog with someone is a new experience. Noel has his voice and I have my voice. I'm sure it will take some time to get into the groove of writing for a public ear again, but we both thought it would be a great way to share all these amazing experiences we've been having with our friends, families and like-hearted people out there who might appreciate the journey we've been on and continue to walk together, hand in hand.<br />
<br />
The name of the blog, "Deeper Into the World", comes from a poem by <a href="http://maryoliver.beacon.org/" target="_blank">Mary Oliver</a> (a poet introduced to me by my dear friend <a href="http://www.unweavingthenest.com/" target="_blank">Kateri</a>) entitled "The Journey." It speaks to the sometimes-uncomfortable catalyst from which growth and change occur, and that final ripping-off-of-the-bandaid of life, when you start living for the sake of living versus living for the sake of what others might think of or need from you. There was a moment for both of us when we finally knew that we needed to stop listening to everyone else and start listening within. We needed to stop treading water. I have craved to live a fully-authentic life (as much of a catch-phrase as that has become, it's still a valid need!) for most of my existence. I kept this poem in and around me for years, wondering who these people were who could fully live their lives, never dreaming that it could be me! Enjoy the poem, and enjoy sharing in our journey- delving deeper and deeper into the world.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The Journey </b></div>
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"MS 明朝";
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:128;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:fixed;
mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Verdana;
panose-1:2 11 6 4 3 5 4 4 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Verdana;
panose-1:2 11 6 4 3 5 4 4 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>One day you finally knew<br />
what you had to do, and began,<br />
though the voices around you<br />
kept shouting<br />
their bad advice --<br />
though the whole house<br />
began to tremble<br />
and you felt the old tug<br />
at your ankles.<br />
"Mend my life!"<br />
each voice cried.<br />
But you didn't stop.<br />
You knew what you had to do,<br />
though the wind pried<br />
with its stiff fingers<br />
at the very foundations,<br />
though their melancholy<br />
was terrible.<br />
It was already late<br />
enough, and a wild night,<br />
and the road full of fallen<br />
branches and stones.<br />
But little by little,<br />
as you left their voices behind,<br />
the stars began to burn<br />
through the sheets of clouds,<br />
and there was a new voice<br />
which you slowly<br />
recognized as your own,<br />
that kept you company<br />
as you strode deeper and deeper<br />
into the world,<br />
determined to do<br />
the only thing you could do --<br />
determined to save<br />
the only life you could save. </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>- Mary Oliver </i><span style="font-family: "verdana";"></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07973396521617673418noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8162075280640143046.post-81891492990848041972012-10-03T10:04:00.002-07:002012-10-03T10:07:33.095-07:00So, here I am-over here now.For any readers who have never lived somewhere else other than where they were born and raised, these musings might seem odd to you or kind of abstract to understand.<br />
<br />
Here I find myself in the US-of-A as of late and I'm discovering that being here is more of a change than I thought it would be. Let me explain. In so many ways, the USA and Canada are quite similar (both are primarily yet not exclusively anglophone nations; both drive on the right-hand side of the road). In other ways they are quite different (health care seems to jump quite often to the top of this list; proliferation of firearms-that sort of thing).<br />
<br />
These things are quite easy to notice and are certainly valid, but aren't the sorts of things I'm talking about right now. I'm speaking of the feeling I get if I go for a short walk to the post office to mail something and find myself walking down a roadway that I only barely know and since only recently. I pass by houses that just seem to give off a different feeling than houses I am more used to seeing. I speak with people who sometimes just want to say hello to me and that's such a refreshing thing.<br />
<br />
Verily, I could travel to other provinces in Canada and visit <i>those places, </i>and while there would still be a similar feeling of novelty in my surroundings, I'd still be in a place that was by and large, like many to most of the kinds of folks I've grown up knowing. What I love about being in this environment is that this is a subtle feeling. <b>Let's see a show of hands for all of you who like and appreciate subtlety?</b><br />
<br />
I firmly believe that on some great and fundamental level, that all humans are more or less the same-it's in our genetic diversity (which recent studies seem to suggest isn't actually all <i> that diverse</i> anyhow). Culturally, we start to see the differences. These could be shocking and maybe difficult to accept in some case, or as in my case, very subtle.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I think of myself with the label 'Canadian abroad' and that turns up the volume on the pleasure I get savoUring all these differences. Other times, it never even occurs to me to do this.<br />
<br />
Every day is a joy and every day is filled with new things to appreciate and sometimes new hurdles over which to leap. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: orange;">L</span></b><b><span style="color: red;">E</span></b><b><span style="color: #6aa84f;">A</span></b></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: yellow;">P!</span></b></span></span></div>
<br />
Did I say leap or leaf? Speaking of which, the leaves around here are just gorgeous right now and I'm so glad to be alive!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading. I'll talk to you again.<br />
<br />
NoelAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15024804524778120696noreply@blogger.com1