A Better Democracy

I'm pairing my vote! An exciting way to vote either strategically or with your conscience. You can too - find out how:
http://www.votepair.ca/

Don't Mess With a Cranky Darth

While walking through Amsterdam during the last day of my European vacation I decided to film a performance artist since Darth Vadar is one of my neices' favourites... unfortunately, THIS is no Darth to share with four year-olds...

Motorcycle Maintenance

I have been very much enjoying the thrilling experience of riding on a BMW motorcycle. I had no idea that I could be so afraid and so joyous simultaneously (is this love?)! My father, who was never one to enforce rules on me as a young girl, had one rule when dating boys: never get on the back of a motorcycle.

Yet here I am, riding with Joe as often as I can. He's even got me addicted to The Long Way Around. I'm watching Ewan and Charlie fight the difficulties of traveling through Mongolia and Siberia on motorcycle, and I can't help but wonder: some people are just born ridiculously beautiful, even six weeks into a wild camping adventure - Ewan McGregor is one of them. But then, so is Charlie.

(I know. It's an old show that was produced in 2004... but this is the brilliance of today's TV -- watch what you want when you want. Rent the series on DVD, find it on Surf the Channel or stream on the show's site...)

I love the grounded personalities of these men. Funny how I find them "grounded" when they are traveling around the world on motorcycle leaving their wives and children behind. What does that say about me? Their ups and downs, their desire at times to quit (and that producer David who I wrote off at the beginning as a wank, actually reigned Ewan back in - he's much more of a mother figure than I ever would have imagined), their delight at seeing a black bear for the first time (wait til they get to Alaska!) Oh, it's great fun for me. More than I can even admit to Joe and my father though they will likely read this...

My father, when he met Joe, pulled out his motorcycle for him. And get this! When Joe sat on it, my father took photographs of him! Then he wordlessly allowed me to get on the back of his steed and allowed this new man in his daughter's life to take her off to the wineries of Prince Edward County.

What does that say about my father? About Joe? About all of us? How I will like to know what my father thinks of this TV series.

One more thing: unbelievable how MUCH Siberia looks like British Columbia and how much the truck drivers look like BC loggers. Even Ewan and Charlie become Mountain Men.

I marvel at how small this world can feel sometimes. And at the same time so infinite.

garb-you-radar

Noun: garb-you-radar (pronounced garburator)

Usage: Cdn

1. A method for determining the presence and location of an object of apparel by measuring the time for the echo of a style wave to return from it and the direction from which it returns.

2. A means or sense of awareness or perception: shoppers working under the style radar.

3. An approach used by style-, socially- and ecoligically-minded individuals to clothing.

I've been told that I have a particular style that is born out of a sixth sense. This is of course my wording - my friends have been far more flattering in ways that I cannot adequately accept with grace.

ANYWAYS>>>> some of you have asked me over the years to shop with you - take you to my favourite haunts, help you pick out the diamond in the rough at the local second-hand-shop.
I've finally decided to take your direction and start a little Self-Style 101 course of sorts.
I see it as a Sunday afternoon in Kensington Market doing the rounds.

The goals are:
- Finding your own style (and then owning it)
- ECO-nomic (a second-hand dress costs $30; and second-hand cowboy boots $40)
- ECO-logical (keeps small children out of the sweatshops; re-uses what's already out there)
- Funness! (I'll make you try things on you'd never have picked out for yourself; we'll stop for tea mid-way through and show each other our outfits over cocktails at the end of the afternoon)
- a whole outfit (from boots/shoes/purse to dress/top to scarft/bracelets)

This idea is obviously in its infancy. I would like you to help me develop it by participating in any way - come with me this Sunday or send me your feedback. I'm going to Kensington on Saturday to map out the route and meet the store-owners.

Eventually I want to charge a fee for this service, but this Sunday will be free.

EAST VILLAGE, NYC

The theme this Sunday is to find the perfect EAST VILLAGE outfit for you! (and me!)
I just returned from NYC (where I now share a basement apartment with my boyfriend Joe) and I did a LOT of studying of fashion while I was there. Believe me, I have totally figured out the East Village look - not only is it sexy and hip, it's also super comfortable.

Let me GARB-YOU! And eventually you'll have your own RADAR for pulling together your own unique street style.

Sunday June 8th, 2pm-4pm (I'm keeping this first foray SHORT and SWEET)

Praise Where Praise is Due

If you scroll down the comments for this Bright Eyes video you'll see that I became miffed when viewers started disparaging Conor Oberst for being TALENTED! Such a shame...

Relationship Advice From Cary Tennis

WOW! Is it Spring or is it that myself and my peers are thinking seriously about finding our right mates... Feels like relationships is the number one topic of our conversations these days.

It's all a process of self-discovery and communication isn't it? And then it's so painful and disappointing when the rocky moments hit. Love can be both heart-rending and heart-mending. It's give and take while being true to ourselves. Sometimes we grow together, other times we grow apart. What to do then? I've known for years now that standing in the fire is so very painful and difficult but the only way to truth.

Cary Tennis agrees. Here's some up front good advice for anyone going through painful moments in relationships:
http://www.salon.com/mwt/col/tenn/2008/04/30/husband_wants_divorce/index.html
For those of us who embrace the artists' approach to life, this advice will be particulary keen.

If you're thinking of doing some writing for personal exploration (according to Cary, all writing is personal exploration) http://www.carytennis.com/workshops.html

Reading Cary's column, which sometimes I LOVE and sometimes hits me the wrong way, has been a great boon in my personal growth over the past year. Through my own meditation, writing and reading his column, I came up with my mantras that I have shared with you already:

CONFIDENCE
INTEGRITY
LOVE IN YOUR HEART
FAITH

SEPARATE THE EGO FROM THE PRACTICE

And with my mantras in mind and heart, I thank you for taking the time to read this.

An Exciting Speech

Obama sent shivers up my spine with this speech. It's long, but it's really worth listening to all thr way through.

The speech is called "A More Perfect Union" in case this link dissolves:

http://my.barackobama.com/page/content/hisownwords/

peace

Path of the Monarch

To me, a monarch butterfly is pure inspiration. It is as delicate as an onion skin, yet as strong and determined as an orca whale. I see them tumble and waver through the sky at the edge of my parents' beach on Lake Ontario at the tail end of summer before they take a last deep breath to cross south.

Their migration spans the three great nations of North America. They know no boundaries set by humans. They don't recognize our systems and ways, yet we are making it increasingly difficult for them to survive.

"...researchers are greatly concerned that the entire monarch butterfly migration and overwintering phenomenon in eastern North America may collapse in the near future if the Mexican government does not fully enforce the logging ban."

I read about clear-cutting in Mexico in The New York Times today. The article led me to this NASA website that contains disheartening photographs:

http://earthobservatory.nasa.gov/Newsroom/NewImages/images.php3?img_id=17943

In November 2000 the Mexican president declared this "core zone" for southern overwintering a protected space. Unfortunately the illegal logging persists. And get this: the loggers sometimes go in armed! I can just see them aiming at the fluttering orange targets. Silly men with guns. Don't they know how hard it is to shoot a butterfly?

Notes on the Fire on Queen Street

(pics courtesy of torontoist.com)

Notes from the Fire on Queen Street

MORNING
Chopper chopping the news
Copter hovering above like
A dragonfly suspended

Bulked up firemen; an older one is
Smoking a classic wooden pipe
“My feet are cold” he says
They climb into the idling
Red truck

At least a dozen trucks at
Intersection. These firefighters
Have been here for hours.
The younger ones are the
Grunts lifting canisters of
Oxygen

A slope of kindling across the
Sidewalk; the remains of what was
Once – and before that –
Behind it a steady
Fall of water – five hoses aimed
At the base, one from a tower

Pedestrians on cell phones
Some had heard the news
& came prepared with cameras
We’re all stepping over the
Police tape

The water from the crane
Hose is a solid tube of
Froth a good foot in
Diameter

It’s frigid. My hands are
Cracking from the cold

A beautiful sunny day

The mood is quiet &
Pensive

Axe chopping ice at the sewer drain

Thick boa constrictors of
Fire hoses on the pavement
Lying, some empty, like
Discarded skins & others
Full of water rats
In the middle
Of the city’s busiest intersection
Now transformed

Smoke fallout traveling
East. It will be a stinky walk
To work today

Five more trucks on Richmond
A man knocks at homes
To evacuate?

There will be homeless

EVENING
Two crane ladders

Still pumping streams

Street now lit up like
The film set of a
Horror pic
Haunted Fun House gone
Wrong

Facades iced in cake
Trees and wires hung heavy
With gaudy icicles

Crowds of people
With cell phones &
Cameras
Some smiling; excited
Others grim-faced

Bits of ash floating down
Or is it snow?

Rocky Mountain Wisdom

Two days of snowboarding with this view - my body aches and I feel as though the mountains worked me good.

I thought that by going out West and being in different scenery - namely the grand Rocky Mountains - I could open up my heart and mind and let the cool, clear wind pass through and blow away any detritus. I expected that once cleared, the mountains could provide me with the answers I would use to fill them up again. What does my past mean? And what does my future hold?

I said once I got to the peak: I'm an empty vessel, Mountains. I am ready for the wisdom that you can impart.

I waited.

Alas, all I heard and felt was the cool wind.

Driving back through the Rockies towards Calgary, sitting beside Heidi during long silent passages of time save for her iPod on shuffle, I got an answer I didn't expect. I realized that I should and could be present wherever I am.

Heidi and I have not spent this much time together in years. Yet we could be silent and contemplative together. We could also sing horribly together! But what fun.

I have recently made a move to live alone again and I have to re-learn to be silent (or sing horribly!) and contemplative in my own company and at any given moment be truly present. A process that I already know is vastly rewarding.

My Rocky Mountain experiences serve to anchor me. Serve to remind me that I am but a speck on this planet. But that I have work to do to pull my own weight.

I have a strong vision and purpose.

I am excited about my own future.

I am happy.

May you also feel the joy of being present in your self.

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for

and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.

I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool

for love

for your dream

for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...

I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow

if you have been opened by life’s betrayals

or have become shrivelled and closed

from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain

mine or your own

without moving to hide it

or fade itor fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy

mine or your own

if you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes

without cautioning us

to be careful

to be realistic

to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true.

I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal

and not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithless

and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not prettyevery day.

And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure

yours and mine

and still stand at the edge of the lake

and shout to the silver of the full moon,“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me

to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up

after the night of grief and despair

weary and bruised to the bone

and do what needs to be doneto feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know

or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

in the centre of the fire

with me

and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom

you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you

from the inside

when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself

and if you truly like the company you keep

in the empty moments.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Until One is Committed

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back-- Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.

Goethe

Culture Shock Replacement

I've been thinking non-stop about a suitable replacement for culture-shock which my friend Hilary finds is an unfriendly and repressive term. She asked me yesterday, “can we come up with, right now, a replacement for that term?” But she was in transit and we didn’t have more than ten seconds to ponder a replacement.

Hilary’s on her way to the Middle East for the first time and everyone seems to be warning her that being thrown into a new culture and feeling disoriented is a “bad” thing. Can it not be a “good” thing?

I've come up with so far:

culture-stir

culture-birth

culture-awakening

I like the idea of birthing, of awakening when we are thrown into new surroundings. I also like Hilary’s summation: the opportunity of being in new surroundings is a time for standing back, taking in, for observing and respecting and remaining quiet.

And then when ready, I think, ask questions.

Here is the Oxford Dictionary definition of awakening:

A rising from sleep, or (in modern use, more commonly) from sloth, inaction, or indifference.

I love the notion of rousing or quickening to a new culture, and new sights, new sounds. Truly you are asleep to the whats, wheres and whoms you don’t know. This process of being born into a new life, essentially, is disorienting, and scary for sure. But it also affords us, in time, recognition of a community once unknown to us. And that can only better our understanding of our common human experience.

Traveling, truly traveling and leaving the prescribed routes, is a shock, certainly. But those of us who are fortunate enough to have traveled to cultures previously unknown to us respect the fear caused by disorientation. We celebrate our newly gained knowledge. The enlightenment that we achieve is what we are able to share with others and vitalizes the whats, wheres and whoms of our collective consciousness.