Today, in the year 278 A.D., the holy Roman Priest Saint Valentine, was beheaded. During the days of Emperor Claudius the II, Rome was campaigning and waring constantly, however Claudius' soldiers became to tired of the deadly escapades that they grew unwilling to join the army because they didn't want to leave their wives and families. As a quick fix, Claudius banned all marriages and engagements. That is where our dear Saint Valentine came in. He married young lovers in secret, until he was discovered and the order was given that he should be arrested, dragged through the streets, beaten with clubs, and beheaded. The date was February the 14th; a day which has become one for carrying on Saint Valentine's understanding that love is just as important as all other things in life, and should be recognized and celebrated as such.
Today, we celebrate by giving gifts. The usual are chocolates, roses, jewellery, baked goods, and home made cards. However, there are those of us who decide not to participate in what has become a very commercial holiday. It is our principals that keep us from recognizing this day as separate from all the other days in the year. We tell ourselves and our loved ones that we don't need society telling us that today of all days we need to show our love. We say that if we love you, we will show you every day and we don't need a socially acceptable holiday in which to do so. While this is fair, since commercialism generally does take over anything good and exploits it to a degree where it seems that holiday has thrown up all over everything, everywhere, what is wrong with setting a day aside to do something extra special for someone in your life? Just because February 14th is a socially sanctioned zoo of pink and red, does that mean we have to succumb to the madness? Does it also mean that we need to boycott it on principal? If we say NO to valentines day, are we not in part a little bit like Claudius? I challenge you, this Valentines day to think about Saint Valentine. He loved love and understood that it is important to celebrate that love, share it, and recognize it. If you still can't accept Valentines day as a legitimate way of showing you care, perhaps think about creating your own super secret special day, hour, or moment, just for you and your love. For its not February 14th itself that is important, it's setting aside time and commitment to formally and outwardly recognize and celebrate those you love. So write poem, send a letter, bake a cake, clean out the fridge, or let your loved one choose the movie for once! Whether it is on this day, or your own secret day. Happy Valentines Day! Lots of Love. Saint Valentine Info Credit: http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/st-valentine-beheaded
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Merry Christmas to those near and far.
During the tail end of my yoga class last week, when we were supposed to be holding poses and focussin on our breath, I was imagining myself singing "Olde Lange Syne" in a dark and moody jazz club. Smoke billowed and candles quivered in old time blue and reg glass holders, dimly lighting the baby grand paino where I leaned in my black sequin dress. Silver and white balloons draped the room, and confetti had blown up everywhere. If you've ever actually listened to the words in "Olde Lange Syne", you may find that it is a song about old friends who have come and gone from your life. It tells of how you wish to let them know just how they touched your heart, whether they were around for a brief or enduring period of time. Considering the words in "Olde Lange Syne" and became reather sentimental (as one tends to do around the holidays). I reminisced about all the friends I've met along my travels and life chapters. What little time we may have had, or how much space has come between us, each one of you was enchanting then, and dearly thought of now. I believe everything a person does, and everything they become, is in some way influenced by those who have come in and our of their life. I have been so incredibly rich in meeting and knowing all of you over the years, and as a result have lived quite a large life so far. Thank you for being a guiding presence, a hefty influence, and an inspiration in my life, dear friends. To old friends, travel partners, kindres spirits, and light hears, for Old Lange syne, a toast to you and the year ahead. Merry Christmas. In my more recent history, I have returned to the place where I grew up. After many years of wandering, searching, failing, and learning, the time came when I needed to refresh my perspective, and so I went back to the beginning; I went back to my roots.
Since being close to my family and the place where it all began, I have taken time to consider the place where it all began. How has my childhood influenced my choices, and my direction in life; how has the way I've grown up helped me to be who I am today? They say it takes a village to raise a child. And that is exactly what I had. A village raised me. My street, on Sumas Mountain in Abbotsford, began when the area was divided into five acre and two acre lots. People slowly began buying and building, my parent's included. It was then, in the mid '80s, when our village began. With each person that came onto the street, a new perspective was added. Some stuck, knowing that the good of the street was at the heart of what we all needed, while others came and went. If a person wanted a community that supported each other, contributed in each other's lives, and wished the good upon everyone involved (even if it meant sacrificing a little ), then they belonged. If they had other intentions, then they were phased out. This didn't happen intentionally of course- it was simply a natural progression. Like minded people came and stayed, and others went in search of minds like theirs. When I was raised, not only did I have my family to watch out for me, but I had those like minded neighbour families as well. Local gatherings, birthday parties, holidays, and all manner of events unfolded on these streets. Everything from soapbox derbies and potato sack races, to trick or treating and Christmas parties, all went down at someone's house each year. And in between times, street wide hide and seek or water balloon fights brought everyone out together. When someone was doing something they weren't supposed to, there was someone else there to steer them in the right direction. When one of us wavered, more than our family arrived to help us stand up straight. We were a village, and it takes a village to raise a child. My village raised me, and I'm proud to have returned so that perhaps some day I can contribute to a village of the next generation. A few months ago I wrote about a dream that had come to me in the night. I recalled visions of myself walking through a wooded forest alongside a white timber wolf, and then floating down a river allowing peace to wash over me. In one moment I would become the wolf looking to myself, and then I would be myself looking at the wolf. We were one in the same being, inhabiting two distinctly separate forms. See that story here: downstream.html The dream helped me to understand that I was on the right path; that I was looking out for me and everything would be okay. I had finally accepted my ability to recognize the strength, wisdom, and poise that existed within myself. The form of the white timber wolf was simply my way of visually expressing those qualities to my own consciousness. Since then, I have been flowing downstream, have returned to the roots that held me up throughout my life, and have taken steps toward building a positive, blissful, and rewarding existence. A few nights ago, the wolf returned to my dreamworld. This time, however, I wasn't walking or floating downstream; I wasn't checking in with myself as a wolf, I was being watched over by an entire pack. In my dream, I woke up from a deep slumber and was drawn to look out my bedroom window. There, perched on a hill, were seven wolves. Their coats were a myriad of browns, whites and greys. They did nothing but watch me with their heads level and they bodies stoic. Instead of feeling fear at the presence of these wild dogs, I understood that they were me and I was them. It were as if all the different parts of my consciousness were sitting on that hill, participating in each other, and letting me know that I am there to continue leading me down the path I am on.
Through the many forms of "me", "I", and "my" that seem to be ever present in this blog, it is important to understand that a person's journey is that person's alone. They may share it with others and draw strength from friends and family, but they can also find strength within the multiple entities of themselves. While we may at times need confidants and shoulders to cry on, as well as partners and companions, I believe it is of the utmost importance that we also remember the different parts of ourselves. We must never loose sight of all that we are, and all of the strength, wisdom, and poise that exists within each of us. In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly, Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the dead; short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe! To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high! If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. ... no matter if we are young or old, and regardless whether we personally knew or are connected to any person who participated in a war of any kind, we are still joined by the result of those conflicts. Wars may be fought for money or power, and they may have begun in pursuit of a truth that their engineer believed to be an important necessity to inflict upon others, however in the end wars cost lives. These lives were given in the name of freedom and independence, and basic human rights to living lives that are safe and secure. It is because of the men and women who either fought, nursed, or waited, that we are able to be the people we are today. On November 11th, let us remember those who fell, and those who returned. Let us remember those who suffered, and those who rejoiced. Let us remember the great sacrifice. Let us never put to shame, those who fought for future generations- our generation, and those still yet to come. Image Credit: www.readersdigest.ca/features/heart/story-behind-flanders-fields/ To the speakers, readers, writers, and members of the human race: we must always remember to be patient with our words. Give them time to sit and grow. Give them time to steal the show. Give them time to sink in. And give them time to help our minds blow. Great words don't always pop up instantaneously. Don't dismay. Be patient with your words.
I recently attended the long awaited nuptials of my cousin, Mike, and his new bride, Miriam, at the picturesque and exquisitely located Fernie Alpine Resort. Aside from visiting family, meeting new people, witnessing the perfect ceremony, and dancing the night away, I got a chance to see why so many people love coming to Fernie. It really is spectacular.
There are many resorts all around the world, and many ski resorts right here in Canada, and they are all naturally beautiful in their own way; Fernie is certainly no slouch. Nestled amidst jaw dropping mountain ranges, tumbling rivers, mountain lakes, and a real small town hospitality, Fernie really is the place to be during any season of the year. In the winter, there is of course skiing, boarding, and all manner of snow driven sports. In the spring, summer, and fall, the fun doesn't stop when you jump on a bike, go for a hike, fish or boat down the river, or even walk through the town just to get a feel for the place. While in Fernie, we stayed at the Lizard Creek Lodge right in the the ski village. Oh-my-goodness; we were blown away. The professionalism of the staff, clean and luxurious rooms (at a reasonable price), easy to get to location, and the above all positive energy exuding from every fissure of the buildings, was absolutely outstanding. Thank you to Mike and Miriam for inviting us to your special day, and for choosing such a splendid place to share your commitment with all of us. I think it goes without saying that we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves- it will be a weekend to remember. "Be our guest! Be our Guest! Put our service to the test! Tie a napkin 'round your neck, cherie and we provide the rest!" Beauty and the Beast, one of Disney's greatest and most magical fairy tales has been coming to life for outdoor theatre goers all summer long. In Stanley Park's Malkin Bowl, after dinner at the Stanley Park Pavillion, we rendezvoused for our annual visit to the Theatre Under the Stars. We were enchanted by Chip and Mrs. Potts, romanced by Lumiere, awed by the Beast, and delighted by Belle. Cogsworth became more tightly wound as the evening wore on, and Gaston and Lefou were hilariously self involved. The entire musical was captivating and wonderfully whimsical. Emotions were high, and we were enjoying every minute of it when during the tail end of "Be our guest", a bright red and white ball of fire streaked across the sky just above the peak of the Malkin Bowl stage. The Perseid Meteor Shower had begun, adding a bewitching bouquet of magic to an already stupendous show. Each year, somewhere between July 17 and August 24th, Earth crosses the orbital path of a comet called Swift Tuttle. The comet has a nucleus of 26 kilometres wide and, according to NASA, is the largest solar system object to repeatedly pass close to Earth. For years this massive rock has been viewed as a hazardous object, with the belief that it might in 2126, enter our atmosphere and come crashing in Earth, causing irreversible damage to the planet. However, and thank goodness, in 1992 astronomers took more precise measurements and calculated that we would be safe from an impact for many thousands of years. Swift Tuttle is, like all comets, a ball of dust, ice, rock, and dark organic material. As it travels through space, and comes to pass Earth at incredible speeds, some of the dust and sand-sized debris that comes off the comet creates what we saw above the Malkin Bowl stage last night, the Perseid meter shower- which is basically dust, travelling at 59 kilometres per second, burning up in Earth's atmosphere. Although the comet only passes earth every 133 years, this particular meteor shower can be seen every year when Earth moves through the trail of the Swift Tuttle's orbit. NASA has dubbed the Perseid shower as the "fireball champion" of yearly meteor showers due to it's record breaking number of extra-bright meteors, called fireballs. You can even see the brightest ones in light-polluted areas, allowing city goers and out door theatre enthusiasts to enjoy the star show. This year, the meteor shower is more impressive than usual because it will reach, at it's peak, 200 meteors an hour (approximately 3.3 per minute). This is what is called an irregular outburst because such high quantities of meteors is rather unusual; apparently Jupiter has something to do with it. If you missed last nights light show, you can still catch it tonight (August 12). In most locations, to counter the brightness of the waxing moon during the shower's peak, it might be better to set up camp for a 12:00-1:00 am showing. Grab a hot chocolate and spike it, bundle yourself in a blanket, lay out on the grass, and watch as dusty Perseid passes us by. It all began one sunny Saturday afternoon. I was sitting on the grass, reading a book, when I thought "I don't want to sit on the grass and read, I want to sit on a bench." So I looked around and saw two benches. The first was horrendously uncomfortable. It was so bad that whoever designed it should find another day job. The second belonged to our dog. When I tried to sit on it, she looked at me with such disgust that I felt shamed. I stood up and walked away, looking for another place to sit. That's when it came to me. If I don't have a bench, I'll build one instead. I gathered the following materials: hammer, nails, screws, electric screwdriver, table saw, measuring tape, leveller, paper, pencil, and master carpenter for consultation. I began to think of how I would go about building something I had never built before, using tools I had never used before. How would I accomplish this? Ta da! Nearly finished! Step 9: Now you may start putting the back on your bench. This is another great opportunity to find some help.
Congratulations! You have now completed the build of your first bench! What a marvellous job! All it needs is a coat of paint and a shady tree to sit under. Well done builder! You may have heard the term "boomerang" used to describe children who have moved away from home, only to return later on. Sometimes these adult children come crawling home after only a few months, stay a while and then leave again; others stay away for years, wander around a life they attempt to build, falter somewhat, and return to reset. I fall under the latter group. Before you can know the story of my return, you must first learn of the meanderings that occupied these past several years. Seven years ago, after graduating from the University of the Fraser Valley, I dove into a life that would allow me to experience as much as I would allow.. My first step was making the leap from my family's quiet acreage on Sumas Mountain in Abbotsford B.C., to the big bad bustling city of Vancouver. Admittedly, to anyone who has lived in or visited cities other than Vancouver, what I call big, bad, and bustling, is in fact generally quiet and sleepy. However, for an innocent and quiet mountain girl it was sensationally hectic. I first lived with a friend in the Marpole area of South Vancouver, and quickly migrated to the little Greek neighbourhood by the beach- Kitsilano. After a time living in Kits with another room mate who has since escaped to Toronto, met the love of her life, and begun anew, I moved to Coquitlam and attended Simon Fraser University. Before my third year away from Sumas Mountain came to an end, I had completed a second degree and made plans to move to China. Year four of my launching adventure, found me in the heart of China- Chonqing (chong-ching). I was employed by Maple Leaf Education Systems, which is a British Columbia off-shore private school operation. There are many schools under the Maple Leaf branch, running throughout China and most of their students are Chinese youth working towards their Dogwood diploma. Among the locals there are also Canadian expats, Americans, and Europeans who attend the school for various reasons. Following my time in China, after travel throughout Asia and Europe, I returned to Canada only to move to southeastern BC to the little border town of Invermere. Here, while working as a teacher on call then battling the government during the teacher strike, I mostly ski'd and played in the rockies. And later, I moved north to Bella Coola, B.C. Bella Coola- an isolated coastal community in the heart of the Great Bear Rainforest, this place is small in population and large in heart. The Nuxalk first nations people in this area, Norweigen settler descendants, and those who have wandered and landed, taught me a lifetime of lessons in such a limited number of days. I had never before been so in touch with who I was, what I wanted, what I needed, and what the earth and its people wanted and needed from me. Bella Coola changed the way I conceived of myself and my place in the world, and although this kind of transformation is never really ending in ones lifetime- its simply up to us how far down the transformative road we choose to go- I really feel that without this pivotal place I would would have followed either the same path with a different mind, or a different path altogether. But then again, we can only speculate can't we; after all, unless we exist in a film or novel that explores the space time continuum, we never will realize the existence of any other path than the one we follow. At Christmas time, I flew home for the holidays and in a last minute visit to a ski hill I became re-acquainted with an hold high school friend. And when I returned to Bella Coola in the new year, I brought a vision of this fella along with me. When July rolled around I moved to Vancouver to join him, eager to live out the remainder of 2015 and the foreseeable future in what promised to be an equal and rewarding partnership. As my past ventures in the love department so often turned out to be unfulfilling, detrimental, and quite frankly- disappointing, so too did this experience unfold with a similar conclusion. Moving on from another failed relationship I found alternate lodgings in Vancouver. After a time I came to feel claustrophobic, irritable, ill at ease, anxious, and without purpose. I knew, it was time to return to the valley, to the place of my birth; my home and centre. It was time, to start a life; to build something worth living for. And so, I came home. I moved into the lower level bedroom in my parent's house on Sumas Mountain. I have since repaired and painted fences, tamed stinging nettle, weeded and tended gardens, and among other property necessary tasks, I imagined this place as a new age "estate" of sorts. It would be a place where family members could live together, work together, and pass down the land and its amenities through generations. All of a sudden I am a part of something. Thus begins another fold in the design and creation of my life. Each place I went, person I met, or moment I experienced, throughout the many wanderings of these past years, have each led me from one place to another. Without one, I could not have the next moment, and without each consecutive trial and error, I wouldn't know what I know, I wouldn't have seen what I've seen, and I wouldn't be exactly who I am in this moment. I could have had a traditional life and stayed where I grew up, built a life right from the beginning, and I would be ahead in many ways that I am not currently. However had Id one that, I would be so very far behind in all the other ways that I feel are intrinsically important. Therefore, in spite of my disappointment with having to return to where it all began and essentially hit the reset button, and though I am farther behind in some ways than those who stayed, I would not trade the years I've had gallavanting all over the world in search of a greater meaning and a greater life experience than saying in one place could offer. |