There is a womyn named Angela who I barely know, but who I call my friend. We met through an online parenting community some years ago, when I was first having wee ones. I will sheepishly admit that I am not even sure which one it was. This is when I lived deep in the north, where my parenting practices were not understood, and often times not even accepted. My life line to empathy, understanding and friendship came through these online communities. It was an eye opener to me, to meet womyn from all over the world who were parenting consciously. How we could had so much in common and yet sill have such vast differences. I met womyn with 8 children! Womyn who had lived in urban settings their whole lives! Womyn who were devout to a religion whose rules had me reeling! And yet there were things we all shared. A belief that parenting was a conscious endeavour. That children did well when cared for by their parents, that birth was meant to be an honoured sacred event, that breastmilk was babies #1 superfood, and that breastfeeding was ok anywhere and any time. I know one thing we also often had in common was as sense of isolation, each of us for different reasons.
Angela recently told me she wanted to participate in this experiment. She decided to read every blog entry from its conception and commented on most of them. It was a serious example of dedication. I think it took her a whole day! Maybe more. She tells me it fed her soul. I want you to know Angela that it fed mine too. Certainly part of this was the comments, where you spoke of your personal isolation, what you were experiencing, how you were coping...and not coping. What fed me most of all though Angela, is how you showed me that you believe in me, in this project. You showed me that you loved me. This is why I saved Angela’s question till the end. It has become something of a place of honour. I like to end each commitment in a special way.
The question she sent for 12 days journal #57 is, "How do you help yourself to find the spiritual and/or divine in the mundane tasks of life?". This question, coupled with the remembering of how we met, reminded me of those early days of motherhood. Looking at motherhood as a spiritual calling was what got me through it. Being a mom is the toughest job I have EVER had, it is mentally, physically and spiritually exhausting, well I should say it WAS. Now that my kids are grown up a little mothering is easier. I get to sleep, my body is no longer a source of nourishment so I am physically stronger and less depleted. I am not constantly redirecting and explaining “why”, so mentally I am clearer. I don’t regret ANY of it, in fact I am PROUD AS HELL of the way I choose to raise my children, but I do admit that there were times it was “mundane”. I can tell you that I consider a day at the playground to be a special form of torture, complete with parental politics, and the constant “will you push me”. I look at mothers with small children now and wonder how did I make the mundane spiritual. The answer is love.
Love of anything takes it from the mundane to meditation. I have no doubt that, despite the nausea which accompanies the idea of having another child, when the little critter began squirming round my belly and kicking me in the ribs, I would once again rise to the occasion with gratitude. Love is absolutely transformative. I know because I have seen this in my life and the lives of others, time and time again. This project, though on a grand scheme is very exciting, can be mundane. Writing EVERYDAY can be mundane. Making journals is most DEFINITELY mundane! It is the love that I get from people who tell me what a difference I am making, it is the love I feel from Angela who is so excited by what I am doing, it is the love of watching the look in someone’s eye when being given a journal which makes this a year long mystical meditation. The project is my baby, I nourish it, I nurture it and oh how I love it, even when it keeps me up at night screaming to be fed!
Showing posts with label asking for help. Show all posts
Showing posts with label asking for help. Show all posts
June 9, 2009
June 8, 2009
Day 11 Asking for Help- Doppleganger
“What enables a person to move from experience to experience while still staying true to who they are?” this question, which comes to me from my friend Paul, and which will be included in 12 days journal #56, has me stumped! Truly I think it is the first question which I really have no idea how to answer. Maybe I am tired, or all “inspirationed” out from the last entry, but I sat here and pondered this, and couldn’t come up with anything. From a psychological standpoint, we are born with a personality, then nurture takes over and we are shaped. This personality might be the constant, the ballast which keeps everything congruent. But I suspect it is more than this. I also began to wonder if I DO indeed stay true to who I am? I wonder if I am the same person when I am dancing my way round beautiful California, as I am when I am baking cookies for a school potluck (Ok you got me, I almost never bake, but you get the idea). It is hard for me to gauge how consistent I am, because I am the one playing the role. For a good long while last year I felt as though my two lives were completely dis-integrated. I was a double agent. I know that at the core I was the same person, but there were times I wondered if it weren’t some cosmic trick, if I was actually two different people!
Paul didn’t give me an answer, had he have I may have been able to pull from it, but for right now, I am stumped. All I can say is personality plays a role, the other roles are players which are a mystery to me. Perhaps my doppleganger knows the answer?!
Paul didn’t give me an answer, had he have I may have been able to pull from it, but for right now, I am stumped. All I can say is personality plays a role, the other roles are players which are a mystery to me. Perhaps my doppleganger knows the answer?!
June 7, 2009
Day 10 Asking For Help- Angel
Another entry written one day late! This is it though , I AM going to write 2 today and get caught up. No more howling at the moon, time to be responsible. Which brings me to the question sent to me for today. It was sent by my eldest daughter Ayla. An unimaginable blessing who found me about 15 years ago. She circled me from beyond for a little under a year before choosing to be born. I was a feisty 20 year old who was travelling the world and was “never going to have kids!”. I know now it is not us, the parents, who do the choosing. I felt her coming, started looking at babies on the bus and imagining how I would mother. I started trying on clothes, turning to the side to see how they would look if I were pregnant. This was not conscious, when the conscious thought of becoming a parent crept in I would react out of hand with many a rote and cliché statement,
“I am too selfish to have kids”
“I wouldn’t bring a child into this world the way it is”
“There are too many children in the world without parents, when I am ready I will adopt”
Not that these aren’t valid statements, they just ceased being valid for me the day I came to find I had a baby growing in my belly. I discovered I was pregnant in a McDonald's bathroom in the bad part of Melbourne, Australia. I was scared out of my mind. While I loved her father, I knew we couldn’t be together. I wanted to go home. I wanted to know what I was suppose to do. I wanted the world to stop so I could breathe, figure out how I was going to do this, be a mom at 21. I was caught up in a typhoon, I felt like I didn’t know anything. Well that is not exactly true, I knew one thing for sure. That this baby chose me, that she would change my life forever, and that I would do ANYTHING for her. Ok technically that may be three things, but you know it was a knowing of all three all rolled up into one.
Sweet Ayla Bayla Boo was born, August 19th, 1995. On this same day I went from being a girl to being a mother...the womyn part came later, with much help from her. I often wonder between the two of us who is the parent. She is ultra responsible, insightful, and giving. She has taken care of me countless times. To be honest she may very well have saved my life. She woke me up, and insisted, in her gentle way, that I choose to live consciously. You can imagine when she handed me my computer, for me to read the following, how the tears welled. She is just such a brilliant being, my amazing angel.
“Dear Magdelen ,
Hi momma Its me and I am ready to give you a question. The question is inspired by how much you care for me and how much you give me. I got to thinking about what I give back. And so the question is "How are you a parent to your parents?" I love you momma with all my heart! <3
Love A"
She didn't send an answer, she didn't have to, I KNOW how she parents me, how she looks out for me, how she cares for me, how she forgives me, how she accepts me, because as far as mothers go there are times I can be a handful!
I lesser than 3 you my sweet Ayla! Thank you so much for choosing me. When I get home I will be giving 12 days journal #55 to Ayla Gabriella with the question "How are you a parent to you parents?" written in the front cover. I can't wait for this journal to come back home!!
“I am too selfish to have kids”
“I wouldn’t bring a child into this world the way it is”
“There are too many children in the world without parents, when I am ready I will adopt”
Not that these aren’t valid statements, they just ceased being valid for me the day I came to find I had a baby growing in my belly. I discovered I was pregnant in a McDonald's bathroom in the bad part of Melbourne, Australia. I was scared out of my mind. While I loved her father, I knew we couldn’t be together. I wanted to go home. I wanted to know what I was suppose to do. I wanted the world to stop so I could breathe, figure out how I was going to do this, be a mom at 21. I was caught up in a typhoon, I felt like I didn’t know anything. Well that is not exactly true, I knew one thing for sure. That this baby chose me, that she would change my life forever, and that I would do ANYTHING for her. Ok technically that may be three things, but you know it was a knowing of all three all rolled up into one.
Sweet Ayla Bayla Boo was born, August 19th, 1995. On this same day I went from being a girl to being a mother...the womyn part came later, with much help from her. I often wonder between the two of us who is the parent. She is ultra responsible, insightful, and giving. She has taken care of me countless times. To be honest she may very well have saved my life. She woke me up, and insisted, in her gentle way, that I choose to live consciously. You can imagine when she handed me my computer, for me to read the following, how the tears welled. She is just such a brilliant being, my amazing angel.
“Dear Magdelen ,
Hi momma Its me and I am ready to give you a question. The question is inspired by how much you care for me and how much you give me. I got to thinking about what I give back. And so the question is "How are you a parent to your parents?" I love you momma with all my heart! <3
Love A"
She didn't send an answer, she didn't have to, I KNOW how she parents me, how she looks out for me, how she cares for me, how she forgives me, how she accepts me, because as far as mothers go there are times I can be a handful!
I lesser than 3 you my sweet Ayla! Thank you so much for choosing me. When I get home I will be giving 12 days journal #55 to Ayla Gabriella with the question "How are you a parent to you parents?" written in the front cover. I can't wait for this journal to come back home!!
June 6, 2009
Day 9 Asking For Help- What is Love?
ACK!! I am falling behind. For two days in a row I am writing yesterday’s entry today. I have no problem what so ever in blaming this on the full moon. I felt her pull well over a week ago. KNEW, that this one was going to be life changing.
I have hardly slept since Thursday. Because of this I set myself a very strict guideline last night, that I must go home as soon as the sun began to rise. I had to get at least a few hours before the kids woke up! I danced in the living room of a home that was opened to the community for an all night full moon celebration. I did sleep a bit, 20 feet from where the DJ was mixing, intertwined and snuggled up on a couch, bass bumping through my dreams. I was surrounded by so many loving friends, some I knew, some I didn’t, some old, some very very new. I drove home at 4:00 a.m. listening to the birds waking, taunting me with there full nights sleep, and to country music, it was the only station I could find. Twang works as good as anything else to keep one awake!
I was given the question for today (yesterday?) by the bass, entering my sub conscious mind, by the encouragement of friends who conspire towards my success, by the gentle absentminded touch of a friend on a couch. This question did not come by email, it came, as my friend Philip would say, by T-mail. Telepathic mail indeed. I got the message from you all, you light beings so filled with love. That what you want to know, what you want answered, what you wanted discussed, pondered, laid out in the light for all to caress, is the question, “What is love?”.
I have heard an argument that love is merely a chemically induced reaction to increase chances of survival, to live long enough to propagate our species. While not wildly romantic, it does make logical sense. Love is chemicals...this would explain the popularity of chemical drugs. While I can concede that chemicals play a role, I KNOW that there is more to it than this. I have heard it said that God is Love, pure and simple. That our source, what makes us all one, is Love. THIS I believe. Still though it does not help me to understand that deep feeling when sometimes despite all logic or rational thought I KNOW I love someone. Especially that deep intense feeling of romantic love, or the feeling of deep love when a baby is born. It doesn’t make me understand love at first sigh, how in one glance I can feel love. At first glance today’s question may seem like a simple one, but I wonder if it won’t be one of the hardest to answer. I looked up love in the dictionary. Random House has 14 hits on “Love” in its usage as a noun alone!
Love –noun
1.a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2.a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3.sexual passion or desire.
4.a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5.(used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6.a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7.sexual intercourse; copulation.
8.(initial capital letter) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.
9.affectionate concern for the well-being of others: the love of one's neighbor.
10.strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything: her love of books.
11.the object or thing so liked: The theater was her great love.
12.the benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.
13.Chiefly Tennis. a score of zero; nothing.
14.a word formerly used in communications to represent the letter L.
“The object or thing so liked” Sigh.... I love this one, so poetic. I am reminded of the quote “I don’t know art but I know what I like”. I can’t tell you definitively what love is, but I know when I am in it.
Since this question came in from the masses, it needs to be sent out the same way. I will take 12 days journal #54 next time I go to a party or event where many of my lovely friends will be. I will give it to someone that I love. I may not be able to tell them what this love is exactly, but I will KNOW that I love them....this is enough.
I have hardly slept since Thursday. Because of this I set myself a very strict guideline last night, that I must go home as soon as the sun began to rise. I had to get at least a few hours before the kids woke up! I danced in the living room of a home that was opened to the community for an all night full moon celebration. I did sleep a bit, 20 feet from where the DJ was mixing, intertwined and snuggled up on a couch, bass bumping through my dreams. I was surrounded by so many loving friends, some I knew, some I didn’t, some old, some very very new. I drove home at 4:00 a.m. listening to the birds waking, taunting me with there full nights sleep, and to country music, it was the only station I could find. Twang works as good as anything else to keep one awake!
I was given the question for today (yesterday?) by the bass, entering my sub conscious mind, by the encouragement of friends who conspire towards my success, by the gentle absentminded touch of a friend on a couch. This question did not come by email, it came, as my friend Philip would say, by T-mail. Telepathic mail indeed. I got the message from you all, you light beings so filled with love. That what you want to know, what you want answered, what you wanted discussed, pondered, laid out in the light for all to caress, is the question, “What is love?”.
I have heard an argument that love is merely a chemically induced reaction to increase chances of survival, to live long enough to propagate our species. While not wildly romantic, it does make logical sense. Love is chemicals...this would explain the popularity of chemical drugs. While I can concede that chemicals play a role, I KNOW that there is more to it than this. I have heard it said that God is Love, pure and simple. That our source, what makes us all one, is Love. THIS I believe. Still though it does not help me to understand that deep feeling when sometimes despite all logic or rational thought I KNOW I love someone. Especially that deep intense feeling of romantic love, or the feeling of deep love when a baby is born. It doesn’t make me understand love at first sigh, how in one glance I can feel love. At first glance today’s question may seem like a simple one, but I wonder if it won’t be one of the hardest to answer. I looked up love in the dictionary. Random House has 14 hits on “Love” in its usage as a noun alone!
Love –noun
1.a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2.a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3.sexual passion or desire.
4.a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5.(used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6.a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7.sexual intercourse; copulation.
8.(initial capital letter) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.
9.affectionate concern for the well-being of others: the love of one's neighbor.
10.strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything: her love of books.
11.the object or thing so liked: The theater was her great love.
12.the benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.
13.Chiefly Tennis. a score of zero; nothing.
14.a word formerly used in communications to represent the letter L.
“The object or thing so liked” Sigh.... I love this one, so poetic. I am reminded of the quote “I don’t know art but I know what I like”. I can’t tell you definitively what love is, but I know when I am in it.
Since this question came in from the masses, it needs to be sent out the same way. I will take 12 days journal #54 next time I go to a party or event where many of my lovely friends will be. I will give it to someone that I love. I may not be able to tell them what this love is exactly, but I will KNOW that I love them....this is enough.
June 5, 2009
Day 8 Asking For Help- Waiting Game
I don’t even know where to begin. Writing seems next to impossible as I float ‘round this bliss bubble. I danced with The L.O.V.E Collective last night. They managed to create a safe container in which to explore a variety of emotions, including some not generally accepted on a dance floor. We danced filled with joy, then screamed out in anger. There were moments of confusion and moments of cohesive group movement. All this was created without a leader, no one dictating movements or choreographed steps. The collective created an atmosphere, guided and held space seamlessly. Their love, trust, and honouring of each other was palpable. Having not experienced a full buffet of dance tribe members in nearly a month, it was a gift to be caught up in movement, in a room filled with community, feeling safe in pushing boundaries... it was a pretty gosh darn good time.
I spoke afterwards with the groups big brother member. A co-creator who rejects the label “leader”, acknowledging that this group is far greater than the sum of its talented,visionary,compassionate parts. He gave me the question “What do you want?” for 12 days journal #53. A broad question with a medley of possibilities, an invitation for juicy and rich answers. His answer were spoken to me, not emailed, so I will have to repeat them as best as I can. It went something like:
“I made a list, a literal list, had a friend write it out for me. I asked for a connection, a deep soul connection with a partner, who understands my capacity for limitless love. I want to connect with a womyn who is not afraid to stand in her own power, who is ready to take on motherhood. I want to find a community, a family who accepts my non traditional ideas. I want communication to take a lead role in this community. A community who is passionate about empathy...“
The list went on.
I have heard arguments both for and against ”the list“. Some say it is too narrow minded, others say it is imperative to be specific when asking the universe to fulfill your desires. I was not entering into this debate. I was too rapt, enthralled by a man who speaks passionately about calling in the love he desires, unabashed, no apologies. Committed to commitment, to finding a family that fits him rather than fitting himself into the popular notion of family. A man who was willing to ask ”what do you want?“ and would accept any answer, whether it was on a metta level or an answer regarding what I wanted in my coffee.
So what did I want last night? I wanted the conversation to last forever. I had sent out a sort of list. Not on paper, but I asked God for someone to have a deep soul connection with, someone to talk to who would understand my mother tongue. I asked for a dancer. I felt him circling all day, got the familiar head ache which often accompanies shifts in my life. This new friend, is someone who I bonded with the minute I walked into the dance space. I had no idea he was part of the collective, I just saw him and knew we would be friends. We spoke for hours after the dance, and today sat close at coffee with my children. Rose asked if I had known him a long time. I explained to her that he was part of the extended ecstatic dance tribe, that when we meet each other there is a knowing, a language spoken with the body through movement. Yes she is 6, and maybe didn’t ”get“ this in it’s totality, but understood it well enough. Michael is leaving tomorrow, the L.O.V.E collective is on their way to Alberta, and is touring ‘round for the summer. Thank you all for what you brought to our community.
I will see you soon Michael.
Picture of our crew at coffee this morning. There were three journal recipients at the table. Anthony with #50, Michael with #21 (I hadn’t made #53 for this entry yet so instead I gave him the journal I sent to myself from California), and Dan with #52.
I spoke afterwards with the groups big brother member. A co-creator who rejects the label “leader”, acknowledging that this group is far greater than the sum of its talented,visionary,compassionate parts. He gave me the question “What do you want?” for 12 days journal #53. A broad question with a medley of possibilities, an invitation for juicy and rich answers. His answer were spoken to me, not emailed, so I will have to repeat them as best as I can. It went something like:
“I made a list, a literal list, had a friend write it out for me. I asked for a connection, a deep soul connection with a partner, who understands my capacity for limitless love. I want to connect with a womyn who is not afraid to stand in her own power, who is ready to take on motherhood. I want to find a community, a family who accepts my non traditional ideas. I want communication to take a lead role in this community. A community who is passionate about empathy...“
The list went on.
I have heard arguments both for and against ”the list“. Some say it is too narrow minded, others say it is imperative to be specific when asking the universe to fulfill your desires. I was not entering into this debate. I was too rapt, enthralled by a man who speaks passionately about calling in the love he desires, unabashed, no apologies. Committed to commitment, to finding a family that fits him rather than fitting himself into the popular notion of family. A man who was willing to ask ”what do you want?“ and would accept any answer, whether it was on a metta level or an answer regarding what I wanted in my coffee.
So what did I want last night? I wanted the conversation to last forever. I had sent out a sort of list. Not on paper, but I asked God for someone to have a deep soul connection with, someone to talk to who would understand my mother tongue. I asked for a dancer. I felt him circling all day, got the familiar head ache which often accompanies shifts in my life. This new friend, is someone who I bonded with the minute I walked into the dance space. I had no idea he was part of the collective, I just saw him and knew we would be friends. We spoke for hours after the dance, and today sat close at coffee with my children. Rose asked if I had known him a long time. I explained to her that he was part of the extended ecstatic dance tribe, that when we meet each other there is a knowing, a language spoken with the body through movement. Yes she is 6, and maybe didn’t ”get“ this in it’s totality, but understood it well enough. Michael is leaving tomorrow, the L.O.V.E collective is on their way to Alberta, and is touring ‘round for the summer. Thank you all for what you brought to our community.
I will see you soon Michael.
Picture of our crew at coffee this morning. There were three journal recipients at the table. Anthony with #50, Michael with #21 (I hadn’t made #53 for this entry yet so instead I gave him the journal I sent to myself from California), and Dan with #52.
June 4, 2009
Day 7 Asking For Help- It's a Wonderful Life
Sent to me a couple of days ago:
“How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?”
361.9 cubic centimeters of wood every day
Or, maybe more applicable.
“What is a challenge you have with friends?”
A challenge I have with friends is telling them what I need. For example, I wonder if I make a positive difference in the lives of people around me. It would be nice if I had the courage to ask. Sometimes I wish I had an "Its a Wonderful Life" moment where I can see the impact I have on those around me. However, I myself have been known to forget/neglect to tell people what a difference they make in my life. I am also sometimes afraid of telling people how they have made a positive impact on my life.
Does the question and answer make sense? The answer was much easier than the question. Well, not really. There were heavy revisions to get it to make sense.
Karl.”
Well “Karl”. Let me tell you what a difference you make in MY life. When you play with my kids because you can see I have something going on and want to give me the space to work through it, it makes a difference! When you chop wood to heat my house it makes a difference. When you tell me I look beautiful, or notice when I am having a hard day, it makes a difference. You are one hell of a friend! I am not exactly sure what a “It’s a Wonderful Life” moment would look like, I have never seen the show, but if it means me dressing up in a 50’s get up and dawning a bee hive I will do it! My kids adore you, which means to me that your heart is pure, they are wonderfully intuitive human beings, THEY know what a difference you make. Every family should be so lucky as to have a “Karl” show up and help out like you do. Thank you for all you do. I hope that when you recieve 12 days journal #52, that you can now modify your answer to the question, “What is a challenge you have with friends?”. Perhaps your new answer can be “She stays in her room the whole time I am visiting, writing in her gosh darn blog! I never get to talk to her any more!”
“How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?”
361.9 cubic centimeters of wood every day
Or, maybe more applicable.
“What is a challenge you have with friends?”
A challenge I have with friends is telling them what I need. For example, I wonder if I make a positive difference in the lives of people around me. It would be nice if I had the courage to ask. Sometimes I wish I had an "Its a Wonderful Life" moment where I can see the impact I have on those around me. However, I myself have been known to forget/neglect to tell people what a difference they make in my life. I am also sometimes afraid of telling people how they have made a positive impact on my life.
Does the question and answer make sense? The answer was much easier than the question. Well, not really. There were heavy revisions to get it to make sense.
Karl.”
Well “Karl”. Let me tell you what a difference you make in MY life. When you play with my kids because you can see I have something going on and want to give me the space to work through it, it makes a difference! When you chop wood to heat my house it makes a difference. When you tell me I look beautiful, or notice when I am having a hard day, it makes a difference. You are one hell of a friend! I am not exactly sure what a “It’s a Wonderful Life” moment would look like, I have never seen the show, but if it means me dressing up in a 50’s get up and dawning a bee hive I will do it! My kids adore you, which means to me that your heart is pure, they are wonderfully intuitive human beings, THEY know what a difference you make. Every family should be so lucky as to have a “Karl” show up and help out like you do. Thank you for all you do. I hope that when you recieve 12 days journal #52, that you can now modify your answer to the question, “What is a challenge you have with friends?”. Perhaps your new answer can be “She stays in her room the whole time I am visiting, writing in her gosh darn blog! I never get to talk to her any more!”
June 3, 2009
Day 6 Asking For Help- Ask and You Shall Receive!
Today I have received so much help that I won’t even be writing my own entry! The following diatribe comes to me from my friend Kevin. I don’t know that he actually asked a question but he sure as hell gave me an answer! So I will provide the question which will grace the inside cover of 12 days journal #51, the question I believe Kevin was trying to answer is “How do you encourage others to question the status quo?”
A little back ground on my friend Kevin. He is a bit of a mans man. Wears your standard jeans and button up nearly everyday, along with a worn and stained baseball cap with a bottle opener in the brim. Some might even say he looks a little like a redneck. He is married, and has two children from a previous union. He has a suit and tie job which has him travelling round a fair bit. He dabbles in photography, and delivers pizzas for a buddy when his delivery boy can’t make it in. He is a a regular guy who now and then shaves down his entire body, puts on make up, hose and a pair of artificial breast to make an appearance as Traci Taboo, our local celebrity cross-dresser. Bet you didn’t see that coming!
Here is a note he sent to me via facebook after a conversation over coffee where I explained this project to him :
“Traci sent you a message.
--------------------
Subject: 12 days 2 inspire
.. like 12 days of the Migraine... my god !!!!
Ok.. so ponderment has occurred thanks to your well placed seed of inquisition.
A sprout has grown forth from this kernel. A small conception, a bud, an ovum. Far from a plantation of flowing words and whispering thoughts.
Much of my inner energy guides me to the Traci topic as a contribution for fodder. My willingness to batter society with unorthodox views and corkscrew conclusions is really the fuel that pushed the Traci creature to its position today, and small opportunities to do such.
The "Shock Value" as I called it.
Heavy underlining of "tolerance" - not so much acceptance, but not to beat things to death you don't understand. It escalates for some to fear and that's where violence enters the painting of life around us.
My biggest puzzle is how.. or perhaps why? has Traci been regarded with seemingly friendly arms.
I am not speaking of the assumptions one might make about being gay, a drag queens etc. therefore accepted.
I believe there is a society program or knee jerk reaction if you will, that many first draw upon meeting me. Must be gay! This is a natural conclusion to draw without any thought process behind what you see. Asking NO questions. But, the inquiring mind might pose a different conclusion A conclusion without the proper answers or worse, provides more puzzling questions and drawing confusion.
The world is coming to grips that there is homosexuality and the battle against it is futile as no-one can change anyone. So with that said, how can I incorporate a question about this alter-ego without sounding egotistical.
Why am I so popular?
I understand that Traci Taboo is known. I have worked to be known and hopefully is associated with positive things in life and produces laughter and smiles.
My personal reward has been meeting many, many interesting and great people, some of which have become friends *you included*. Could I have met so many without wearing a skirt and heels? Doubtful !
Traci is not so much a political or media statement to get everyone to understand that life is rich in depth and it takes many things to make the world go round. But, if a situation occurred that was drastic enough, I think Traci could be used to draw attention to a large issue. Then, one day, I may feel compelled to step up and say HEY!!!
It really is all about fun and being yourself. Those perhaps are shallow or simple thoughts but profound none the less. Keep life simple, it ain't complicated shit.
Society reactions for me has been the most entertaining and educational. Having fake nails, lovely and rather blatantly womanizing has been a definite surprise to many who catch me wearing them. Why? Cause Im a man? This reaction would not run parallel if I wear a woman. I might even get compliments from strangers on my nails.
Or having painted toes for example is a "lesser feminine" gesture and therefore; a gay man would only do such a thing? Utterly Ridiculous! Most gay men have done neither to my understanding.
So, I recognize a gap between reality and societies belief.
So, my exposure to many (mostly gentlemen) who actively crossdress(CD) has taught me that society maybe more willing to accept, not embrace, but to drop the calumny, mockery and consternation that one could easily see occur 10+ years ago. But, the women in the lives of these CD's are for the most part struggling with the concept of why men have this urge. I can’t say I understand either. No where near could I fathom this inner drive and passion to dress feminine as often as possible. I just simple tolerate and have graduated to acceptance as many of these men are decent people. Their choice of clothing is different than mine. In turn, it has been curious that I am misunderstood and more deeply, "not" understood by those in the CD community. I am the puzzle to them as much as they are to me, yet we are both men dressed as women. There is comedy there I know it...
Many of these men who feel the need to CD, are a puzzle to me. All women's clothes, beyond knee socks and Lululemon I guess, are for the most part torture devices to wear. The perpetual vanity of makeup, the art of looking hot, my god what a pain in the arse it is.
Don't women crossdress all the time? Pants? Suits? Is there a defined criteria for women wearing men's clothes? Is that OMG !crossdressing or it just cute/sexy/sassy?
These men who CD have a monstrous and crippling fear to be out in public, yet ! ...the urge to enter the public arena in full drag is incredibly strong. Much like a bug to a light, or the bug-zapper light, might be a nice metaphor to have. Being "caught" would be like death to these men.
So, would it be an interesting question then :
Is there a measurable acceptance in society for a man to wear a skirt, heels and makeup out for dinner at a restaurant, to a movie, a coffee shop or just a stroll down the street?
Or maybe reword the question as to- Why is it opposed?
Are you(men) scared to dress as a woman for a day? weekend? a week?
Scared ? Really?? Why do so many dress as women for Halloween??
If so, why are you scared? Who is it harming? or is it the backlash from a society that creates harm to the individual?
Is this Taboo?? Anyways...
Now I want to hit a mall or city and try to gauge reactions of the public on a non-comical approach. LOL !! The evil side of me...HA! Trying to get Traci hired would be an interesting exercise. Would I ever get an interview? Seriously? Would I?
Is there something here?
Is this getting interesting?”
Very interesting Kevin, very interesting!
A little back ground on my friend Kevin. He is a bit of a mans man. Wears your standard jeans and button up nearly everyday, along with a worn and stained baseball cap with a bottle opener in the brim. Some might even say he looks a little like a redneck. He is married, and has two children from a previous union. He has a suit and tie job which has him travelling round a fair bit. He dabbles in photography, and delivers pizzas for a buddy when his delivery boy can’t make it in. He is a a regular guy who now and then shaves down his entire body, puts on make up, hose and a pair of artificial breast to make an appearance as Traci Taboo, our local celebrity cross-dresser. Bet you didn’t see that coming!
Here is a note he sent to me via facebook after a conversation over coffee where I explained this project to him :
“Traci sent you a message.
--------------------
Subject: 12 days 2 inspire
.. like 12 days of the Migraine... my god !!!!
Ok.. so ponderment has occurred thanks to your well placed seed of inquisition.
A sprout has grown forth from this kernel. A small conception, a bud, an ovum. Far from a plantation of flowing words and whispering thoughts.
Much of my inner energy guides me to the Traci topic as a contribution for fodder. My willingness to batter society with unorthodox views and corkscrew conclusions is really the fuel that pushed the Traci creature to its position today, and small opportunities to do such.
The "Shock Value" as I called it.
Heavy underlining of "tolerance" - not so much acceptance, but not to beat things to death you don't understand. It escalates for some to fear and that's where violence enters the painting of life around us.
My biggest puzzle is how.. or perhaps why? has Traci been regarded with seemingly friendly arms.
I am not speaking of the assumptions one might make about being gay, a drag queens etc. therefore accepted.
I believe there is a society program or knee jerk reaction if you will, that many first draw upon meeting me. Must be gay! This is a natural conclusion to draw without any thought process behind what you see. Asking NO questions. But, the inquiring mind might pose a different conclusion A conclusion without the proper answers or worse, provides more puzzling questions and drawing confusion.
The world is coming to grips that there is homosexuality and the battle against it is futile as no-one can change anyone. So with that said, how can I incorporate a question about this alter-ego without sounding egotistical.
Why am I so popular?
I understand that Traci Taboo is known. I have worked to be known and hopefully is associated with positive things in life and produces laughter and smiles.
My personal reward has been meeting many, many interesting and great people, some of which have become friends *you included*. Could I have met so many without wearing a skirt and heels? Doubtful !
Traci is not so much a political or media statement to get everyone to understand that life is rich in depth and it takes many things to make the world go round. But, if a situation occurred that was drastic enough, I think Traci could be used to draw attention to a large issue. Then, one day, I may feel compelled to step up and say HEY!!!
It really is all about fun and being yourself. Those perhaps are shallow or simple thoughts but profound none the less. Keep life simple, it ain't complicated shit.
Society reactions for me has been the most entertaining and educational. Having fake nails, lovely and rather blatantly womanizing has been a definite surprise to many who catch me wearing them. Why? Cause Im a man? This reaction would not run parallel if I wear a woman. I might even get compliments from strangers on my nails.
Or having painted toes for example is a "lesser feminine" gesture and therefore; a gay man would only do such a thing? Utterly Ridiculous! Most gay men have done neither to my understanding.
So, I recognize a gap between reality and societies belief.
So, my exposure to many (mostly gentlemen) who actively crossdress(CD) has taught me that society maybe more willing to accept, not embrace, but to drop the calumny, mockery and consternation that one could easily see occur 10+ years ago. But, the women in the lives of these CD's are for the most part struggling with the concept of why men have this urge. I can’t say I understand either. No where near could I fathom this inner drive and passion to dress feminine as often as possible. I just simple tolerate and have graduated to acceptance as many of these men are decent people. Their choice of clothing is different than mine. In turn, it has been curious that I am misunderstood and more deeply, "not" understood by those in the CD community. I am the puzzle to them as much as they are to me, yet we are both men dressed as women. There is comedy there I know it...
Many of these men who feel the need to CD, are a puzzle to me. All women's clothes, beyond knee socks and Lululemon I guess, are for the most part torture devices to wear. The perpetual vanity of makeup, the art of looking hot, my god what a pain in the arse it is.
Don't women crossdress all the time? Pants? Suits? Is there a defined criteria for women wearing men's clothes? Is that OMG !crossdressing or it just cute/sexy/sassy?
These men who CD have a monstrous and crippling fear to be out in public, yet ! ...the urge to enter the public arena in full drag is incredibly strong. Much like a bug to a light, or the bug-zapper light, might be a nice metaphor to have. Being "caught" would be like death to these men.
So, would it be an interesting question then :
Is there a measurable acceptance in society for a man to wear a skirt, heels and makeup out for dinner at a restaurant, to a movie, a coffee shop or just a stroll down the street?
Or maybe reword the question as to- Why is it opposed?
Are you(men) scared to dress as a woman for a day? weekend? a week?
Scared ? Really?? Why do so many dress as women for Halloween??
If so, why are you scared? Who is it harming? or is it the backlash from a society that creates harm to the individual?
Is this Taboo?? Anyways...
Now I want to hit a mall or city and try to gauge reactions of the public on a non-comical approach. LOL !! The evil side of me...HA! Trying to get Traci hired would be an interesting exercise. Would I ever get an interview? Seriously? Would I?
Is there something here?
Is this getting interesting?”
Very interesting Kevin, very interesting!
June 2, 2009
Day 5 Asking For Help- Out With the Old
My family and I are packing up most of our belongings, we are renovating our home. I partially write this as the first line of this entry, to convince myself that it is actually going to happen. I have a very specific system for packing. I go through a section or a pile, getting rid of any thing I no longer need. My goal is to maintain a cut-throat standard. I can’t stand clutter which, if you know my home, means I live in a constant state of either irritation or denial. The next step is to decide if I need any of the stuff which made the cut, in the next two months. If not it gets packed away until the reno is done. I just went through my clothes, I believe I got rid of a good 1/4 of what I had, and then packed away another third. My closet is so nice and empty, the space is delicious and crisp, and screams for me to go find some funky new (or used) article to celebrate with. I have long fantasized about living in a tiny yurt with almost no belongings, just a stove, a rug and an old iron pot. Of course I also love having a fantastic and eclectic wardrobe, so I would need a second yurt as a closet. But two of the many incongruent desires which makes me so very very me.
I love the feeling of letting go. Not just of clothes and knickknacks but other changes too, moving forward, saying good-bye. There is a sadness, a definite hole, but inevitably there are new things, experiences that show up, as room is cleared for them, and the hole is soon filled. Not that there aren’t things which should be kept. Today I carefully placed items from my personal altar into a box for safe keeping. There was a smooth cameo shaped rock from a river beyond the Arctic circle. It was given to me by a dear friend right before our friendship unexpectedly ended. Also two felted lady bugs made especially for me by my lil uns , probably for a birthday or mothers day, or maybe just because they love me. There was a seed pod found in the Hills of Woodacre. I was being silly on a walk with a friend, I shook the seed pod all over the ground and said they were little seeds of him. That when he returned after I had left there would be a whole field of “mini me’s” sprouting up from the soil. As I put the pod into the packing box, a seed fell out. I smiled, and thought about planting it in my garden, growing a hardy Canadian version of him. In an old wallet I found a tiny photo which had been cut off an old drivers licence. It is of Chris and I swear he can’t be older than 19, the same age I was when I met him. Why do you think we do this? Keep old tiny pictures, seed pods and rocks? Sentimentality is a curious thing. I wonder what I have sent out into the world which is still held in reverence? I remember making a book once for a boyfriend, a beautiful sweet man, who went away to the East for University. It was bound with string and had a character named “kitty” who was modelled after me. I wonder when he goes through his things, when renovation time comes round and he takes it in his hands, will it make the cut? And what of other things like the seed pod, that may not have been given by someone, but are representative of them all the same. Is there a seed pod, or a rock, or a marble or a shoelace out there which represents me? Which reminds someone of a warm and loving time? I like to think so. Funny isn’t it? That the most profound things we have brought to others lives may be things we are completely unaware of, that our greatest gifts to the world could be something we never even knew about or that happened without us noticing.
Today's question comes from Anthony. I will give him 12 days journal #50 tomorrow, inside is written, “What is your unique gift to the world?”. He answered:
“I think my unique gift to the world has yet to be realized and what I think it might be is a song or songs that will make a big difference in people's lives, as in inspire them to do great things or awaken them. Up 'til now though I cannot define what it is, except to say that I have a way of communicating what I see as the truth, as we all do. And my way is with humour and tolerance and occasionally passion. ”
I would agree Anthony, and would add that you fight for the many. I for one appreciate all the work you have put into saving our wonderful beach. Despite Nelson’s carefree liberal ways, Red Sands is the only beach in town where it is Kosher to swim sans suit. I adore swimming naked and have this luxury partially because of your “unique gift”. Thank you.
I love the feeling of letting go. Not just of clothes and knickknacks but other changes too, moving forward, saying good-bye. There is a sadness, a definite hole, but inevitably there are new things, experiences that show up, as room is cleared for them, and the hole is soon filled. Not that there aren’t things which should be kept. Today I carefully placed items from my personal altar into a box for safe keeping. There was a smooth cameo shaped rock from a river beyond the Arctic circle. It was given to me by a dear friend right before our friendship unexpectedly ended. Also two felted lady bugs made especially for me by my lil uns , probably for a birthday or mothers day, or maybe just because they love me. There was a seed pod found in the Hills of Woodacre. I was being silly on a walk with a friend, I shook the seed pod all over the ground and said they were little seeds of him. That when he returned after I had left there would be a whole field of “mini me’s” sprouting up from the soil. As I put the pod into the packing box, a seed fell out. I smiled, and thought about planting it in my garden, growing a hardy Canadian version of him. In an old wallet I found a tiny photo which had been cut off an old drivers licence. It is of Chris and I swear he can’t be older than 19, the same age I was when I met him. Why do you think we do this? Keep old tiny pictures, seed pods and rocks? Sentimentality is a curious thing. I wonder what I have sent out into the world which is still held in reverence? I remember making a book once for a boyfriend, a beautiful sweet man, who went away to the East for University. It was bound with string and had a character named “kitty” who was modelled after me. I wonder when he goes through his things, when renovation time comes round and he takes it in his hands, will it make the cut? And what of other things like the seed pod, that may not have been given by someone, but are representative of them all the same. Is there a seed pod, or a rock, or a marble or a shoelace out there which represents me? Which reminds someone of a warm and loving time? I like to think so. Funny isn’t it? That the most profound things we have brought to others lives may be things we are completely unaware of, that our greatest gifts to the world could be something we never even knew about or that happened without us noticing.
Today's question comes from Anthony. I will give him 12 days journal #50 tomorrow, inside is written, “What is your unique gift to the world?”. He answered:
“I think my unique gift to the world has yet to be realized and what I think it might be is a song or songs that will make a big difference in people's lives, as in inspire them to do great things or awaken them. Up 'til now though I cannot define what it is, except to say that I have a way of communicating what I see as the truth, as we all do. And my way is with humour and tolerance and occasionally passion. ”
I would agree Anthony, and would add that you fight for the many. I for one appreciate all the work you have put into saving our wonderful beach. Despite Nelson’s carefree liberal ways, Red Sands is the only beach in town where it is Kosher to swim sans suit. I adore swimming naked and have this luxury partially because of your “unique gift”. Thank you.
June 1, 2009
Day 4 Asking For Help- Time Machine
“If you could go back in time, is there something you would change?” Is the question sent to me by Miss Fi. It will be put inside 12 days journal #49, which I will take it to her when we have coffee, this week...right Fi?
Fi’s answer was:
“I think I would try to explain the devastating impact that vehicles have had on the air quality and challenge people to build better cars. This seems good. hmm. I'd probably approach a somewhat influential and feminist minded gentleman with ideas and factual information to get the ball rolling in the right direction.”
Such a lofty aspiration! I admit when I read it I was thinking personal gain, and admittedly my initial thoughts were motivated by vanity. ’Hmmmm...if I could take back every dime I ever spent on sugary junk, my immune system would be in better shape, as would my thighs, and think of the huge pile of cash I would have!’ Here Fi uses her genie in a bottle for the well being of the planet while I use mine as a self deprecating money making venture. You're making me look bad lady!
Honestly though I am one of those “I would never change a single thing” folk. I was told once by a man who had no legs that this was a crock! I didn’t disagree with him. At the time I didn’t know how to have this debate with a man who lacked the ability to dance in the way I do. Or to walk the way I do. Who has likely never skied or hiked, at least not in the way I have. Telling him that “everything happens for a reason” seemed ...well to say “trite” would be a gross understatement. It didn’t seem like the time to take a stand...quite the choice of words. I can not say beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I were to lose my legs, I would eventually come out the other end with my ideas around never changing the past, intact. I fully appreciate that there are things that could happen that might change my stance (isn’t it interesting how many leg metaphors are popping up?!) . But this life, with this past, is all I have to go on. To change any of it might alter who I am in this moment. I have faith in the me who sits here click click clicking on these keys. That in the grand scheme this is exactly where I am meant to be. That if I want to change things, THIS is the moment to do so, not in some imaginary time machine . I completely understand where my leg-less friend is coming from , and I am not saying he is wrong. I am also not saying miss Fi is wrong in wanting our air to be clean, our resources intact. Not at all, I would like to live in that world! I think it is ok to have both kinds of people in the world, the “wouldn’t change a thing-ers" and the “what I would do with my three wishes” types. We balance each other...no?
Oh and before I go I want to make a public apology to my thighs. I love you thighs! You are strong and sexy and I promise I will never wish you away!
Fi’s answer was:
“I think I would try to explain the devastating impact that vehicles have had on the air quality and challenge people to build better cars. This seems good. hmm. I'd probably approach a somewhat influential and feminist minded gentleman with ideas and factual information to get the ball rolling in the right direction.”
Such a lofty aspiration! I admit when I read it I was thinking personal gain, and admittedly my initial thoughts were motivated by vanity. ’Hmmmm...if I could take back every dime I ever spent on sugary junk, my immune system would be in better shape, as would my thighs, and think of the huge pile of cash I would have!’ Here Fi uses her genie in a bottle for the well being of the planet while I use mine as a self deprecating money making venture. You're making me look bad lady!
Honestly though I am one of those “I would never change a single thing” folk. I was told once by a man who had no legs that this was a crock! I didn’t disagree with him. At the time I didn’t know how to have this debate with a man who lacked the ability to dance in the way I do. Or to walk the way I do. Who has likely never skied or hiked, at least not in the way I have. Telling him that “everything happens for a reason” seemed ...well to say “trite” would be a gross understatement. It didn’t seem like the time to take a stand...quite the choice of words. I can not say beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I were to lose my legs, I would eventually come out the other end with my ideas around never changing the past, intact. I fully appreciate that there are things that could happen that might change my stance (isn’t it interesting how many leg metaphors are popping up?!) . But this life, with this past, is all I have to go on. To change any of it might alter who I am in this moment. I have faith in the me who sits here click click clicking on these keys. That in the grand scheme this is exactly where I am meant to be. That if I want to change things, THIS is the moment to do so, not in some imaginary time machine . I completely understand where my leg-less friend is coming from , and I am not saying he is wrong. I am also not saying miss Fi is wrong in wanting our air to be clean, our resources intact. Not at all, I would like to live in that world! I think it is ok to have both kinds of people in the world, the “wouldn’t change a thing-ers" and the “what I would do with my three wishes” types. We balance each other...no?
Oh and before I go I want to make a public apology to my thighs. I love you thighs! You are strong and sexy and I promise I will never wish you away!
May 31, 2009
Day 3 Asking For Help- Passion
My dear friend Vita, from across the planet, sent me the question; “How do you live your passion?” for 12 days journal # 48, along with this answer:
“I dance every day. i listen to shells on the beach when they talk to me. i smile at strangers. i dress like the sexy copperflame that i am. i salute all living animate and inanimate objects, believing that everything has a consciousness. i laugh with the magpies and flirt with the sun. I insist on the best, in food, company, friends, lovers, surroundings and thoughts....to name a few.
i live to love.
oink”
Vita is most definitely a sexy copperflame! I am not surprised that she would ask a question about passion. It seems to me that passion is her passion. We have this in common. Passion is my passion. In order to live my passion, I love passionately and I write passionately.
Usually that is. Today I feel dried up. I have sat with this damn computer on my lap for hours now, trying to come up with something entertaining? Poignant? Humorous? Vaguely interesting? I feel empty and uncomfortable. I have been eating sugar to try and dumb down the discomfort. Now I have a swollen, painful belly along with my original discomfort.
So if I live my passion, which is passion, by living passionately, does this mean I completely disappear when my passion disappears? I should write THAT question in a journal!
My friend Kelly assures me it is not a lack of passion that is preventing me from writing, it is an overabundance, a bottleneck. I can see this. So what do I do with this over abundance? Where do I put it if I can’t get it onto the page? If I can’t put this passion in the places it so badly wants to live? What happens when the way I want to express my passion, the way I want to feel passion, is no longer an option?
Yes, I think Kelly is right, there is no lack of passion, just a bottleneck, which is slowing the flow to a drip drip drip and creating an uncomfortable bloat. Which it is threatening to explode. Hopefully all over the page so that I have something to share with you tomorrow.
“I dance every day. i listen to shells on the beach when they talk to me. i smile at strangers. i dress like the sexy copperflame that i am. i salute all living animate and inanimate objects, believing that everything has a consciousness. i laugh with the magpies and flirt with the sun. I insist on the best, in food, company, friends, lovers, surroundings and thoughts....to name a few.
i live to love.
oink”
Vita is most definitely a sexy copperflame! I am not surprised that she would ask a question about passion. It seems to me that passion is her passion. We have this in common. Passion is my passion. In order to live my passion, I love passionately and I write passionately.
Usually that is. Today I feel dried up. I have sat with this damn computer on my lap for hours now, trying to come up with something entertaining? Poignant? Humorous? Vaguely interesting? I feel empty and uncomfortable. I have been eating sugar to try and dumb down the discomfort. Now I have a swollen, painful belly along with my original discomfort.
So if I live my passion, which is passion, by living passionately, does this mean I completely disappear when my passion disappears? I should write THAT question in a journal!
My friend Kelly assures me it is not a lack of passion that is preventing me from writing, it is an overabundance, a bottleneck. I can see this. So what do I do with this over abundance? Where do I put it if I can’t get it onto the page? If I can’t put this passion in the places it so badly wants to live? What happens when the way I want to express my passion, the way I want to feel passion, is no longer an option?
Yes, I think Kelly is right, there is no lack of passion, just a bottleneck, which is slowing the flow to a drip drip drip and creating an uncomfortable bloat. Which it is threatening to explode. Hopefully all over the page so that I have something to share with you tomorrow.
May 30, 2009
Day 2 Asking For Help- School Days
So my help today came from a couple of smart, handsome, intelligent 13 year old boys. Two boys who are likely going to be ticked at me for writing that last sentence. But they are all those things so I am going to leave it in! They sent me a whole SLEW of questions but the one that I am going to choose for 12 days journal #47 is “What do you remember from your days in school?”. I chose this one because I spent the morning at The Nelson Waldorf Kinderhouse where my youngest daughter goes to school celebrating their annual May Fest.
School was a challenge for me as a child. I was tiny, had a funny name and was the youngest in my class, bad combination. I struggled, and have come to understand that although I felt alone, I certainly wasn’t, that many others had a similar experience in school. I have a vivid memory that comes to mind, I was in grade 8. I was walking to science class, which was held in the basement of my jr. high school. I remember rounding a corner and seeing the blank cinder block walls, painted eggshell white. In a moment of clarity and wisdom beyond my years I thought to myself “How can I be inspired to learn in such an uninspired building?”. I believe that there were a lot of factors which contributed to me not being fond of school, but the building, it's surroundings and it's complete lack of soul played a significant role. Even outside it was just cows and wheat fields for miles. I knew back then I would choose something different for my children.
We have made lots of educational choices for our kids. The eldest two were homeschooled until they went to a Waldorf school in Whistler, BC. Rosy is our first child to ever go to Kindergarten. Far from being made of cinder block, her Kinderhouse is a strawbale building with much soul and natural flow. All materials used in today's crafts were natural: flowers, pine cones, beeswax, feathers. The shortcake and cookies served were wholesome and homemade. The puppet show was low key, the children watched with focused concentration as two teachers used hand felted puppets to tell a delightful story of an orange that the forest folk mistook for a sun seed. Finally we went up to dance round the May pole, a structure made from delicately coloured ribbons, driftwood and real flowers. The whole day was a celebration of what nature has to offer. This is what I would have liked to have been surrounded with when I was in school, but that was not meant to be... and I trust that. I am so deeply happy that my children will have memories of being educated in a organic, nurturing environment.
Like my science class room in Grade 8, this part of the Kinderhouse is actually partially underground, but look at what a difference the big sunshine windows make! This is me singing with the Waldorf choir.
Rosy Made this all by herself, isn’t it beautiful?
A friend with his beautiful daughter. Notice the beauty of this interior, with its womb like colours, soft textiles, and so many windows.
Round the Maypole, a timeless ancient ritual. In the background notice the mountains, trees and the rest of the school which is lovely and organic as well. Yes my children’s school is a beautiful place. this makes me, and I think them, happy.
School was a challenge for me as a child. I was tiny, had a funny name and was the youngest in my class, bad combination. I struggled, and have come to understand that although I felt alone, I certainly wasn’t, that many others had a similar experience in school. I have a vivid memory that comes to mind, I was in grade 8. I was walking to science class, which was held in the basement of my jr. high school. I remember rounding a corner and seeing the blank cinder block walls, painted eggshell white. In a moment of clarity and wisdom beyond my years I thought to myself “How can I be inspired to learn in such an uninspired building?”. I believe that there were a lot of factors which contributed to me not being fond of school, but the building, it's surroundings and it's complete lack of soul played a significant role. Even outside it was just cows and wheat fields for miles. I knew back then I would choose something different for my children.
We have made lots of educational choices for our kids. The eldest two were homeschooled until they went to a Waldorf school in Whistler, BC. Rosy is our first child to ever go to Kindergarten. Far from being made of cinder block, her Kinderhouse is a strawbale building with much soul and natural flow. All materials used in today's crafts were natural: flowers, pine cones, beeswax, feathers. The shortcake and cookies served were wholesome and homemade. The puppet show was low key, the children watched with focused concentration as two teachers used hand felted puppets to tell a delightful story of an orange that the forest folk mistook for a sun seed. Finally we went up to dance round the May pole, a structure made from delicately coloured ribbons, driftwood and real flowers. The whole day was a celebration of what nature has to offer. This is what I would have liked to have been surrounded with when I was in school, but that was not meant to be... and I trust that. I am so deeply happy that my children will have memories of being educated in a organic, nurturing environment.
Like my science class room in Grade 8, this part of the Kinderhouse is actually partially underground, but look at what a difference the big sunshine windows make! This is me singing with the Waldorf choir.
Rosy Made this all by herself, isn’t it beautiful?
A friend with his beautiful daughter. Notice the beauty of this interior, with its womb like colours, soft textiles, and so many windows.
Round the Maypole, a timeless ancient ritual. In the background notice the mountains, trees and the rest of the school which is lovely and organic as well. Yes my children’s school is a beautiful place. this makes me, and I think them, happy.
May 29, 2009
Day 1 Asking For Help- What do you do anyway?
Ok I admit it I am overwhelmed! I was thinking the other day that some who read this might be thinking "Doesn’t this womyn have a job?!" Well it feels like THIS is my job! This experiment, this project, this blog, these commitments.
When we moved to Nelson I had planned to look for part time work having left my job at the Whistler Waldorf school as the handwork teacher. I worked there only part time as my Rosy was just little and still needed her mama a lot. Chris was working 50-60 hours a week, so even working part time was hard. Our family home-schooled for many years. Always having at least one of us parents around was the way we did things, it was what we believe was right for our family. Since Chris had other commitments this meant I was the “go to” parent the vast majority of the time.
Then Chris had his accident and our whole lives changed.... in MANY ways. There were the hard parts, there is no doubt about this! But there was a whole other side to the injury that was unexpected and, to be honest, quite wonderful. I suddenly had so much more time than I used to, or at least a different kind of time than I used to. Chris was put on a strict protocol for healing which included a regimented schedule. He took over waking the kids up in the morning, taking them to school, picking them up, making dinner and putting them to bed. While he had always helped with these things, they were now his responsibility as a prescription towards wellness. You may be able to imagine the freedom this gave me! Not right in the beginning. It was MORE work at first, I had to hold his hand a lot, keeping him on track. The injury really messed with his memory and ability to multitask. But by 9 months into it he didn’t really need me any more. So I did something I hadn’t done in 13 years. I went back to school.
I attend the Tamalpa Institute in Marin county California. I fly down there for one week every month. I go to school, I dance and I spend time with the many friends I have made. After 12 years of hard core parenting, much of it on my own, I felt like I had been reborn. In many ways I was, ask anyone who knew me from before! When I am at home in Nelson I take distance courses through Thomspon River University. I am earning the degree I stopped 15 years ago, when I instead journeyed into motherhood.
I have hated the question “So what do you do?” my whole life. Mostly because my answer was never simple and it rarely involved much of a pay cheque. My ventures have always been holistic and artistic in nature. The answers I had to the much dreaded “what do you do” often didn’t even make sense to the person who asked. In this area I have always felt somewhat marginalized. Technically I am a student at the moment, so I have an easy answer. Of course now I would have to answer “I WAS a student”, because since I began this project I haven’t done any school work! I am thinking that I might have to take the rest of the year off to complete this! Which my logical mind tell me is a crazy thing to do. But this experiment is too good to give up, and it is not in me to do it half assed. So today when someone asked me, “What do you do?” I said . “I am writing and doing a research project”. Funny thing, it was just official enough that the asker nodded and was content with the answer. Who would have thought?! Now I wonder what I will say when I am finished this whole thing in 312 days?
I received this question and answer, from an anonymous follower, for 12 days journal #46.
“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”
“In ten years I see myself in a very good place. I see myself surrounded by the people I love. I have a wonderful relationship with my children and my wife and I have a lot of love in my life. I see myself financially abundant and living in a beautiful house full of lovely art, some created by me, some created by my family and some purchased to support local artists. I see myself travelling the world in environmentally respectful and adventuresome ways. I see myself as a published author who writes books that become best sellers and I give talks to audiences full of people. I see myself as having had to travel a tough road for a time that opened up many, many new possibilities and opportunities in my life. Yeah!!!”
Wow. Can I just borrow your answer? It sounds pretty gosh darn good!
Before I give today’s journal to my friend, I will include an answer to his question. I am going to keep most of what I write a secret, but I can tell you it will include that within the next ten years I will have a concrete answer to to the question “What do you do?”
When we moved to Nelson I had planned to look for part time work having left my job at the Whistler Waldorf school as the handwork teacher. I worked there only part time as my Rosy was just little and still needed her mama a lot. Chris was working 50-60 hours a week, so even working part time was hard. Our family home-schooled for many years. Always having at least one of us parents around was the way we did things, it was what we believe was right for our family. Since Chris had other commitments this meant I was the “go to” parent the vast majority of the time.
Then Chris had his accident and our whole lives changed.... in MANY ways. There were the hard parts, there is no doubt about this! But there was a whole other side to the injury that was unexpected and, to be honest, quite wonderful. I suddenly had so much more time than I used to, or at least a different kind of time than I used to. Chris was put on a strict protocol for healing which included a regimented schedule. He took over waking the kids up in the morning, taking them to school, picking them up, making dinner and putting them to bed. While he had always helped with these things, they were now his responsibility as a prescription towards wellness. You may be able to imagine the freedom this gave me! Not right in the beginning. It was MORE work at first, I had to hold his hand a lot, keeping him on track. The injury really messed with his memory and ability to multitask. But by 9 months into it he didn’t really need me any more. So I did something I hadn’t done in 13 years. I went back to school.
I attend the Tamalpa Institute in Marin county California. I fly down there for one week every month. I go to school, I dance and I spend time with the many friends I have made. After 12 years of hard core parenting, much of it on my own, I felt like I had been reborn. In many ways I was, ask anyone who knew me from before! When I am at home in Nelson I take distance courses through Thomspon River University. I am earning the degree I stopped 15 years ago, when I instead journeyed into motherhood.
I have hated the question “So what do you do?” my whole life. Mostly because my answer was never simple and it rarely involved much of a pay cheque. My ventures have always been holistic and artistic in nature. The answers I had to the much dreaded “what do you do” often didn’t even make sense to the person who asked. In this area I have always felt somewhat marginalized. Technically I am a student at the moment, so I have an easy answer. Of course now I would have to answer “I WAS a student”, because since I began this project I haven’t done any school work! I am thinking that I might have to take the rest of the year off to complete this! Which my logical mind tell me is a crazy thing to do. But this experiment is too good to give up, and it is not in me to do it half assed. So today when someone asked me, “What do you do?” I said . “I am writing and doing a research project”. Funny thing, it was just official enough that the asker nodded and was content with the answer. Who would have thought?! Now I wonder what I will say when I am finished this whole thing in 312 days?
I received this question and answer, from an anonymous follower, for 12 days journal #46.
“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”
“In ten years I see myself in a very good place. I see myself surrounded by the people I love. I have a wonderful relationship with my children and my wife and I have a lot of love in my life. I see myself financially abundant and living in a beautiful house full of lovely art, some created by me, some created by my family and some purchased to support local artists. I see myself travelling the world in environmentally respectful and adventuresome ways. I see myself as a published author who writes books that become best sellers and I give talks to audiences full of people. I see myself as having had to travel a tough road for a time that opened up many, many new possibilities and opportunities in my life. Yeah!!!”
Wow. Can I just borrow your answer? It sounds pretty gosh darn good!
Before I give today’s journal to my friend, I will include an answer to his question. I am going to keep most of what I write a secret, but I can tell you it will include that within the next ten years I will have a concrete answer to to the question “What do you do?”
Latest Commitment! Asking for Help- Ya I mean you!
Ok I am overwhelmed! This project has taken over my life! There are commitments to complete, journals to make, blogs to write, emails to answer. Don’t get me wrong, I am loving it! It is one of the best things I have ever done. But I need help! I was thinking about the anniversary story I wrote two entries ago. Thinking about how much easier my life became when I was willing to ask for help, how I struggle with it still, and how I watch so many others do the same. So this brings me to my commitment for the next 12 days.
For the next 12 days I am committed to asking for help. I am asking YOU! You who is reading this right now. My friends, those who follow this blog, you who is reading this for the first time, even those who have already received or written in a journal, to email me a question for the journal of the day. If you feel inspired (and I SO hope you do!) please also send me an answer to the question. Email me at 12days2inspire@gmail.com, and include your address if you live far away. This way I can send YOU the 12 days journal of the day, for you to send out into the world.
How does this help me? It gives me a break. I will post your question (and answer, if you send one) to the blog. This can be done anonymously or with your first name, just let me know what you would prefer. I will write something in response to the question. I will still write everyday, but with less pressure to climb a mountain, find a stranger, go to an event, etc. I need some time to build up energy for the next two 12 day commitments, which will be done mostly in the United States. In mid June I am going to Esalen, then returning to school, going to dance camp and then finally my family and I will road trip home through California, Utah and Washington. With the help of this 12 days commitment of asking for help, I will be able to take care of all I need to before embarking on this exciting journey. A journey where I will get to connect with you all while on the road.
I want to say THANK YOU!! in advance. If you get to this point in this post, and are thinking any of the following;
“I can’t come up with a good question”
“She doesn’t mean me”
“She probably has enough responses already”
or anything even remotely similar I can tell you this, YOU ARE WRONG! and I don’t say that very often. If you get to this sentence right here and have even the slightest interest in participating in this experiment then click here ----> 12days2inspire@gmail.com and send me a question! SERIOUSLY!
For the next 12 days I am committed to asking for help. I am asking YOU! You who is reading this right now. My friends, those who follow this blog, you who is reading this for the first time, even those who have already received or written in a journal, to email me a question for the journal of the day. If you feel inspired (and I SO hope you do!) please also send me an answer to the question. Email me at 12days2inspire@gmail.com, and include your address if you live far away. This way I can send YOU the 12 days journal of the day, for you to send out into the world.
How does this help me? It gives me a break. I will post your question (and answer, if you send one) to the blog. This can be done anonymously or with your first name, just let me know what you would prefer. I will write something in response to the question. I will still write everyday, but with less pressure to climb a mountain, find a stranger, go to an event, etc. I need some time to build up energy for the next two 12 day commitments, which will be done mostly in the United States. In mid June I am going to Esalen, then returning to school, going to dance camp and then finally my family and I will road trip home through California, Utah and Washington. With the help of this 12 days commitment of asking for help, I will be able to take care of all I need to before embarking on this exciting journey. A journey where I will get to connect with you all while on the road.
I want to say THANK YOU!! in advance. If you get to this point in this post, and are thinking any of the following;
“I can’t come up with a good question”
“She doesn’t mean me”
“She probably has enough responses already”
or anything even remotely similar I can tell you this, YOU ARE WRONG! and I don’t say that very often. If you get to this sentence right here and have even the slightest interest in participating in this experiment then click here ----> 12days2inspire@gmail.com and send me a question! SERIOUSLY!
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