Yesterday I found the church in Nanaimo that felt just right to me. That is saying something. My favourite cathedral is nature. A church has to feel pretty special if it's going to lure me indoors when I could be walking outside.
On and off, since I'd arrived in Nanaimo, I'd tried a few different churches. Then, when I was at a social function on Friday night, someone praised St Andrews United Church, and I decided to try it on Sunday.
After just one visit, I knew this was it.
Ironically, I'd already been in the adjacent church hall. That is where my Everybody Sings group gets together on Thursday mornings. But, for some reason, it had not occurred to me before this to attend a service at St Andy's.
Another irony is that the other churches that I'd tried all had been further afield. Now that I no longer have a vehicle, any one of those other churches would involve a much longer walk, a bicycle ride or a bus ride. St Andrews, on the other hand, is within easy walking distance of home.
What a walk it is too. All the way, there are glimpses of the water, nearby islands and, behind them, snow capped mountains.
Oh ....... my ....... goodness .......
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Walkabout
When I lived in Melbourne, white people used the term "walkabout" quite frequently. For example, when I phoned my friend, Jean, her husband, Piet, answered and said, "She's gone walkabout." All he meant was that she was away on some unspecified errand, and he didn't know exactly when to expect her back.
But, while I was in Australia , I learned that Aboriginal people attached a more significant meaning to "walkabout." To them, dropping everything and "going walkabout" meant answering a call to go on a spiritual quest.
I don't know exactly what Aboriginal people do when they go walkabout. I gather they go into the bush for a while, re-establish their connection with nature, and feel spiritually replenished. I dare say the experience is unique to each person who undertakes it.
Today it occurred to me that the ultimate joy would be to feel as if I had gone walkabout (in the Aboriginal sense of the word), but without having to leave home to access that experience.
Then I reflected on the life that I had created in Nanaimo, with people in and out of my cohousing community, and realized that that was exactly what I had accomplished!
Oh ....... my ....... goodness .......
But, while I was in Australia , I learned that Aboriginal people attached a more significant meaning to "walkabout." To them, dropping everything and "going walkabout" meant answering a call to go on a spiritual quest.
I don't know exactly what Aboriginal people do when they go walkabout. I gather they go into the bush for a while, re-establish their connection with nature, and feel spiritually replenished. I dare say the experience is unique to each person who undertakes it.
Today it occurred to me that the ultimate joy would be to feel as if I had gone walkabout (in the Aboriginal sense of the word), but without having to leave home to access that experience.
Then I reflected on the life that I had created in Nanaimo, with people in and out of my cohousing community, and realized that that was exactly what I had accomplished!
Oh ....... my ....... goodness .......
Friday, February 13, 2009
Tribal Dancing
Last night Fierce Light by Velcrow Ripper was screened at Vancouver Island University. Notwithstanding the fact that I was fascinated by the topic, I decided to get the Coles Notes version from several of my fellow cohos who, I knew, were attending.
Instead I went to a tribal dancing session at which Voodoo Dave, amongst others, was drumming. Oh my goodness, what fun that was! Just what the doctor ordered.
I'll be back for more.
Instead I went to a tribal dancing session at which Voodoo Dave, amongst others, was drumming. Oh my goodness, what fun that was! Just what the doctor ordered.
I'll be back for more.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The stone stops here
For much of my life, I have been a rolling stone. I have lived in ten places, in five countries, on three continents.
Because I did not have a geographical anchor, I used to get a sense of identity from my circle of family, friends and acquaintances around the world. I used to feel that being known by that group of people was what confirmed my existence. I had a low grade fear of dropping off their radar screens. I used to put effort into staying in touch with them, sending Christmas letters and that sort of thing.
That changed when I followed my bliss and moved to Nanaimo, British Columbia last autumn. Although I had never lived on Vancouver Island, relocating here felt to me like arriving home. Since I have settled on the island, it has felt insignificant to me whether or not there are people around the planet who know me.
I put this down to the fact that I am basking in the warm glow of a friendly and caring community whose ethos is compatible with my values. I am referring of course to Pacific Gardens Cohousing Community, which constitutes my home base in Nanaimo.
Ironically, at the very time at which I no longer needed them, I received a cascade of e-mails and Facebook messages from former classmates from my Johannesburg high school. These developments had been triggered by a classmate who had done some detective work and had found out where many of us lived. In most cases it had been forty years since we’d been in contact with each other.
It has been tremendous fun for us to catch up. Happily, I will be able to see some of them in the United Kingdom and South Africa when I travel to my mother’s eightieth birthday celebration in Swaziland later this year. We’ve also discovered that a handful of us live on the west coast of North American, all the way from Vancouver down to Los Angeles. This contingent is planning a mini reunion in Vancouver.
I may have confused you when I said that I didn’t need my former classmates and yet was enjoying hooking up with them. Well, yes, that’s exactly what feels so delightful. It is cool to communicate with friends from a former life. Yet, because I really do have a life, I don’t need them. I hope for their sakes that they can say the same.
Because I did not have a geographical anchor, I used to get a sense of identity from my circle of family, friends and acquaintances around the world. I used to feel that being known by that group of people was what confirmed my existence. I had a low grade fear of dropping off their radar screens. I used to put effort into staying in touch with them, sending Christmas letters and that sort of thing.
That changed when I followed my bliss and moved to Nanaimo, British Columbia last autumn. Although I had never lived on Vancouver Island, relocating here felt to me like arriving home. Since I have settled on the island, it has felt insignificant to me whether or not there are people around the planet who know me.
I put this down to the fact that I am basking in the warm glow of a friendly and caring community whose ethos is compatible with my values. I am referring of course to Pacific Gardens Cohousing Community, which constitutes my home base in Nanaimo.
Ironically, at the very time at which I no longer needed them, I received a cascade of e-mails and Facebook messages from former classmates from my Johannesburg high school. These developments had been triggered by a classmate who had done some detective work and had found out where many of us lived. In most cases it had been forty years since we’d been in contact with each other.
It has been tremendous fun for us to catch up. Happily, I will be able to see some of them in the United Kingdom and South Africa when I travel to my mother’s eightieth birthday celebration in Swaziland later this year. We’ve also discovered that a handful of us live on the west coast of North American, all the way from Vancouver down to Los Angeles. This contingent is planning a mini reunion in Vancouver.
I may have confused you when I said that I didn’t need my former classmates and yet was enjoying hooking up with them. Well, yes, that’s exactly what feels so delightful. It is cool to communicate with friends from a former life. Yet, because I really do have a life, I don’t need them. I hope for their sakes that they can say the same.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Living the dream 24/7
Last night I returned home from an awesome visit to Calgary, where I had lived for a cumulated total of 27 years prior to moving to Nanaimo, British Columbia in September 2008.
I saw my two sons, who are in their twenties, and a handful of long standing friends. It was lovely to catch up with them all. It was a special treat to spend some time with my older son, whom I had last seen in September. (My younger son, in contrast, had visited me in Nanaimo just the previous weekend.)
But the very best part of the trip was the sense of resolution that my ex husband and I achieved.
When we'd separated in August 2008, exactly a month short of our 35th wedding anniversary, we had been determined to be civilized about it. We definitely wanted to avoid what I would describe as a divorce from hell, which was a phenomenon we'd witnessed a couple of times amongst our friends.
We both were extremely polite. My husband was kind enough to help me pack the belongings that I wanted to ship to Nanaimo.
He really went above and beyond the call of duty when he gave me his water colour painting of our sons. It portrays them on a lakeside vacation in BC's Okanagan Valley at the ages of approximately eight and five. I was very touched by that gesture.
Nonetheless, the courtesy between my husband and me was stilted.
The strain in our politeness haunted me as I got increasingly involved in consensus decision making, compassionate communication and conflict resolution both inside and outside of my cohousing community in Nanaimo.
I felt like a fake, because I did not believe I had achieved a state of peace in all areas of my life. I really wanted to walk my talk. As long as I was feeling so guarded and defensive in my very few communications with my ex husband, it did not feel to me as if I was living up to the standards that I claimed.
Then a few things happened. I had planned to visit Calgary for Christmas, but extreme weather had prevented me from doing so. After that, I still wanted to see my sons. That wish partly was fulfilled when my younger son visited Nanaimo, but I also wanted to see my older son.
Then a friend passed away, and I wanted to attend his memorial service in Calgary. I timed my trip to coincide with the planned memorial service. For complicated reasons, the date of the service was changed. As it turned out, I did not manage to attend it. But when I committed to the trip, it was one of my motivations.
Finally, I wanted to sell my vehicle, my ex husband offered to buy it, and I offered to deliver it to Calgary. I discussed that in my previous blog post entitled, "Molly's Farewell Tour."
As I headed to Calgary, I dreaded interacting with my ex husband. He later shared that he too had been nervous about my visit.
But, once we saw each other, our fears melted away. We discussed many issues, we gained clarity on a lot of points, we reminisced, we laughed and we cried.
We confirmed our original decision to separate. We agreed that, in some fundamentally important areas, our values were sharply different. We had very distinct ideas about the ways in which we wanted to spend our remaining time on this planet.
We felt that, as long as we had been in more of a "survival mode," our busyness had masked our disagreements. But, once our kids had left home and we had had more spare time on our hands, our differences had become more apparent.
By the time of my visit to Calgary, my ex husband and I had had a five-month break, and we weren't driving each other bonkers any more. We both were cheerful and relaxed. We got to see each other in a favourable light again. Each of us thought, "Wow, you really are a nice person."
That radically changed the atmosphere in which we parted this time around. We felt goodwill towards each other. When my ex husband dropped me off at Calgary Airport late yesterday afternoon, he gave me a card in which he had written a beautiful message wishing me the very best for the future.
The sense of closure that I now have is indescribable.
I saw my two sons, who are in their twenties, and a handful of long standing friends. It was lovely to catch up with them all. It was a special treat to spend some time with my older son, whom I had last seen in September. (My younger son, in contrast, had visited me in Nanaimo just the previous weekend.)
But the very best part of the trip was the sense of resolution that my ex husband and I achieved.
When we'd separated in August 2008, exactly a month short of our 35th wedding anniversary, we had been determined to be civilized about it. We definitely wanted to avoid what I would describe as a divorce from hell, which was a phenomenon we'd witnessed a couple of times amongst our friends.
We both were extremely polite. My husband was kind enough to help me pack the belongings that I wanted to ship to Nanaimo.
He really went above and beyond the call of duty when he gave me his water colour painting of our sons. It portrays them on a lakeside vacation in BC's Okanagan Valley at the ages of approximately eight and five. I was very touched by that gesture.
Nonetheless, the courtesy between my husband and me was stilted.
The strain in our politeness haunted me as I got increasingly involved in consensus decision making, compassionate communication and conflict resolution both inside and outside of my cohousing community in Nanaimo.
I felt like a fake, because I did not believe I had achieved a state of peace in all areas of my life. I really wanted to walk my talk. As long as I was feeling so guarded and defensive in my very few communications with my ex husband, it did not feel to me as if I was living up to the standards that I claimed.
Then a few things happened. I had planned to visit Calgary for Christmas, but extreme weather had prevented me from doing so. After that, I still wanted to see my sons. That wish partly was fulfilled when my younger son visited Nanaimo, but I also wanted to see my older son.
Then a friend passed away, and I wanted to attend his memorial service in Calgary. I timed my trip to coincide with the planned memorial service. For complicated reasons, the date of the service was changed. As it turned out, I did not manage to attend it. But when I committed to the trip, it was one of my motivations.
Finally, I wanted to sell my vehicle, my ex husband offered to buy it, and I offered to deliver it to Calgary. I discussed that in my previous blog post entitled, "Molly's Farewell Tour."
As I headed to Calgary, I dreaded interacting with my ex husband. He later shared that he too had been nervous about my visit.
But, once we saw each other, our fears melted away. We discussed many issues, we gained clarity on a lot of points, we reminisced, we laughed and we cried.
We confirmed our original decision to separate. We agreed that, in some fundamentally important areas, our values were sharply different. We had very distinct ideas about the ways in which we wanted to spend our remaining time on this planet.
We felt that, as long as we had been in more of a "survival mode," our busyness had masked our disagreements. But, once our kids had left home and we had had more spare time on our hands, our differences had become more apparent.
By the time of my visit to Calgary, my ex husband and I had had a five-month break, and we weren't driving each other bonkers any more. We both were cheerful and relaxed. We got to see each other in a favourable light again. Each of us thought, "Wow, you really are a nice person."
That radically changed the atmosphere in which we parted this time around. We felt goodwill towards each other. When my ex husband dropped me off at Calgary Airport late yesterday afternoon, he gave me a card in which he had written a beautiful message wishing me the very best for the future.
The sense of closure that I now have is indescribable.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Molly's Farewell Tour
I am on a visit to Calgary, Alberta.
Although I had snow tires and and tire chains, I lucked into a window of glorious weather for my winter drive. Over two days, I drove amongst snow-covered mountains, on good roads, through light traffic, in brilliant sunshine. Life doesn't get much better than that.
I was reminded, once again, of my failure to find the ugly route from Vancouver to Calgary (or vice versa). That statement tends to puzzle my friends. They ask, "Why would you want to do that?"
My joke stems from the several requests for travel advice that I've received from overseas family members and friends when they've been preparing for trips to Western Canada. They ask, "Should I take this highway or that highway?" I say, "Throw a dart at a map, and choose the route on which the dart lands."
No, I don't really leave them dangling without any more information. I do share with them what I consider to be the advantages of each route. But I also tell them that, after three decades, I have discovered it's impossible to design a bad itinerary in British Columbia and Western Alberta.
Anyway, that stunning drive was a high note on which to end my relationship with my vehicle, which I had named Molly. My ex husband is buying Molly from me. We are about to leave for the registry office, where I will transfer ownership to him.
After visiting with my ex husband, our two adult sons, and a handful of long standing Calgary friends, I will fly back home to Nanaimo, British Columbia on Sunday evening. That will be the start of my car-free lifestyle.
Part of me is going, "Eek!" But mostly I am excited at the prospect of reducing my annual carbon emissions by 1.2 tonnes and discovering how resourceful I can be in implementing this change to my lifestyle.
I will be walking, catching the bus, riding a bicycle, car-pooling with friends, and joining a car sharing club called the Co-operative Auto Network for those occasional trips and errands that really do require a car.
Yes, I'm sure there will be a few frustrating moments. For example, about ten days ago I set out to walk a route that I had planned from my map of Nanaimo. A street that the map showed and that I intended to take wasn't there in real life. Aaaaaaargh! That necessitated a time consuming detour.
Friends later told me that maps of Nanaimo show streets that are planned, not necessarily streets that exist. What's up with that?!? Grrrrrrr!
Yes, a little glitch in Paradise. But onwards and upwards, eh?
Although I had snow tires and and tire chains, I lucked into a window of glorious weather for my winter drive. Over two days, I drove amongst snow-covered mountains, on good roads, through light traffic, in brilliant sunshine. Life doesn't get much better than that.
I was reminded, once again, of my failure to find the ugly route from Vancouver to Calgary (or vice versa). That statement tends to puzzle my friends. They ask, "Why would you want to do that?"
My joke stems from the several requests for travel advice that I've received from overseas family members and friends when they've been preparing for trips to Western Canada. They ask, "Should I take this highway or that highway?" I say, "Throw a dart at a map, and choose the route on which the dart lands."
No, I don't really leave them dangling without any more information. I do share with them what I consider to be the advantages of each route. But I also tell them that, after three decades, I have discovered it's impossible to design a bad itinerary in British Columbia and Western Alberta.
Anyway, that stunning drive was a high note on which to end my relationship with my vehicle, which I had named Molly. My ex husband is buying Molly from me. We are about to leave for the registry office, where I will transfer ownership to him.
After visiting with my ex husband, our two adult sons, and a handful of long standing Calgary friends, I will fly back home to Nanaimo, British Columbia on Sunday evening. That will be the start of my car-free lifestyle.
Part of me is going, "Eek!" But mostly I am excited at the prospect of reducing my annual carbon emissions by 1.2 tonnes and discovering how resourceful I can be in implementing this change to my lifestyle.
I will be walking, catching the bus, riding a bicycle, car-pooling with friends, and joining a car sharing club called the Co-operative Auto Network for those occasional trips and errands that really do require a car.
Yes, I'm sure there will be a few frustrating moments. For example, about ten days ago I set out to walk a route that I had planned from my map of Nanaimo. A street that the map showed and that I intended to take wasn't there in real life. Aaaaaaargh! That necessitated a time consuming detour.
Friends later told me that maps of Nanaimo show streets that are planned, not necessarily streets that exist. What's up with that?!? Grrrrrrr!
Yes, a little glitch in Paradise. But onwards and upwards, eh?
Sunday, February 1, 2009
My beloved son in whom I am well pleased
This past weekend, one of my sons visited Nanaimo from Calgary. We had a terrific time together, and I enjoyed showing him my world. He loved this area, and said he could totally understand why I had moved here and why I had bought into a cohousing community.
Spending time in his company is a real treat for me. For a second I thought, "Wouldn't it be fun to live in the same place, so we could see more of each other?" But it was just a fleeting idea. The answer was a resounding, "No."
For his masters degree in a subject about which he is passionate, he needs to be exactly where he is. For my personal growth and for my exploration of cohousing, to which I am so ardently committed, I need to be exactly where I am. We love each other enough to give each other that space.
But chatting with that young adult, who is not just a family member but now a friend on an equal footing, was a most agreeable experience.
Spending time in his company is a real treat for me. For a second I thought, "Wouldn't it be fun to live in the same place, so we could see more of each other?" But it was just a fleeting idea. The answer was a resounding, "No."
For his masters degree in a subject about which he is passionate, he needs to be exactly where he is. For my personal growth and for my exploration of cohousing, to which I am so ardently committed, I need to be exactly where I am. We love each other enough to give each other that space.
But chatting with that young adult, who is not just a family member but now a friend on an equal footing, was a most agreeable experience.
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