Sunday words

 I've been a little stuck for words lately. Particularly the written ones. Hell I can't even speak what's on my mind the way it appears. Sometimes I feel like maybe I shouldn't say a damn thing. I worry what'll happen if I do. But then.. what'll happen if I don't?

Anyways.

So 2021 eh. It's been interesting so far, I guess.. it's raining. Last day of January and it's only snowed that once since the solstice. I finally ran out of medical leave monies and had to go back to work last week. I ended up right back on the same site I left, 10 months before to the very day.

Not much has changed on the homefront since the farm sold. Did i mention that? A physician owns our farm. I mean, it's a lot more peaceful. Doctor farmer doesn't come around much in winter. He says we're nice people. We're only just doing what we do. Watch over the land, fix things when they break, make sure nothing gets taken. He's been here a few times. Bought a new tractor. Asks questions here and there. Drives here to pick up rent instead of me going all the way to the city. He's nice.


I'm still working on my health. It's not like I didn't already know I wasn't going to get any help with it. Pandemic or not, our medical system has no interest in healing chronic illness. Suppose I just felt I should go through the motions to further prove a point. Even doctor farmer says he goes to India when he needs medical help.. and he's a doctor!

I'm back where I started. Only I feel a little better for having let go of the notion that I could potentially find help outside of myself. For a minute there, I thought I'd wasted time taking leave, stressing about not being at work, having a nice long moment to myself. Alas, the time itself was what I needed, and would never have had otherwise. I had time to observe, notice subtleties and changes in my health depending on input and environment. I would have never in any other circumstances had so much time to just.. do that. Thanks, pandemic.


I'm not out of the woods yet. But I feel like I've begun to forge a path out of its darkest places. I know a long term fix won't be an easy one. I need to simultaneously make small but impactful steps on all facets of my health, not just the physical. I can't run this off, or diet it away. I'm also working on the headspace. And the spirit. A very slow and steady process.

Making very slow.... but steady progress.

I can do this. I mean, I have to, or I die slowly and uncomfortably for the rest of my life. I'm not into that. Happy suNday.

 

6 years out here.

 6 years ago today I woke up on the West Coast after a three and a half day bus ride. I can still remember how I felt to walk out the door of my friend's house and into my brand new world. I spent a week hiking around the city and the provincial parks that surround it. Massive trees fascinate me, and I Revel in their company. I could feel presence again. I remembered what it was like to be in the moment, to feel every breath.

I had no direction, no real plan. All I knew is that I had arrived, I was home... And my destination would be in every single step to come. I tripped around the mainland for a week before venturing to the island. I spent time there with a good friend to reflect and adventure. I prepared myself to find temporary employment until I figured out my footings.

Temporary employment, a few temporary places, and time had passed.. I even ventured back east in the middle of winter to empty out my locker. I returned to find jobs I enjoyed, gardening by the ocean and on the mountainside. The more time I spent in the city immersed in it's happenings, the more I wanted out of it. I was drawn to the forest, the mountains, the water.. it's what I came for. My quest took be back to nature. Fate forced me into it..

Halloween night 2015- the rain burst through the ceiling in my rental house, straight into my bedroom. I took my rent money the next day and bought a pickup truck. It was my home for half a year, at the base of a mountain down by the river. I learned a lot about myself that winter. My limits, my ability to love unconditionally, my ability to change. The evolution from truck to tent to couch to van to farmhouse was a slow and eventful one.

I remember the day J and I drove all the way out here in sub zero temperatures to look at the house. Small, drafty, but that view... I couldn't get over it, I was instantly smitten. It has a yard, room for a garden. Just enough space to live, and a full kitchen. I had to make this place my home. And I did.. boy did I ever.

Our first year we started as soon as the ground thawed. We built one garden bed, and then another, and another... we were blessed with an abundance to share. Year two brought the animals. Rabbits, goats, and then chickens... year three was the year of the pigs. The year of spiraling outward from our tiny home base. Exploring other land use options in our area. Becoming further integrated into the community. Building real connections with our neighbours.

I woke up this morning, in our fourth year in the valley... 6 years after that first morning I woke up on the coast. Today I had that same sense of presence as I walked out the door to let out the ducks and chickens. I felt a strange wave of accomplishment wash over me as I pulled hay from the loft for the goats. Sometimes I still can't believe it... I brought my hobby farming- homesteading dreams to this great big place and somehow made it happen.


Today I go to bed thankful. My freezer and pantry are full of abundance. My dehydrator has been running for days. The kitchen is loaded with stacks of totes of harvest waiting it's turn to be processed and packed away. Who knew I'd make it this far. Tomorrow is a new day.

Home and back- and a Health Crisis

It's been a crazy year. More big changes and intense happenings than I can count. I haven't been writing, and it bothers me. I suppose a part of the problem is I never know where to begin. Another being it's often hard to find the right words. And time management, and anxiety, and the list goes on. I'm taken aback but how quickly this year has passed. Time needs to slow down for just a minute.

I flew home on the 13th of September, Friday... A full moon. The entire Journey from take off- flight- and arrival, to departure and every moment in between was so critical in a shift that needed to happen within for me to find peace. Every person I got the chance to connect with reminded me exactly why I'm here and what I need to do to continue my journey. Thank you for that. So here's where I'm at...

It's no mystery that I've been struggling with my health. For those of you who have known me for a number of years probably remember the incredible health transformation I had made in my final years in Ontario. I was having next to no autoimmune flare ups, and I lost all the weight. All. Every unnecessary pound. I actually felt great most of the time, even my Endo was giving me a break. I blogged about it. I did well. I didn't eat a single crumb of bread. I made a green juice everyday, and after a year or so actually enjoyed them.

And then came a series of unfortunate happenings. Some really incredible ones too, but I experienced some dark times. I fell back onto old eating patterns because cheap (or free) available foods that kept well was all I could manage for a while. I was in a rough place financially, had just uprooted to a far off province, and of course.. lost my mother. Soon after uprooting, the house that I was staying in had a major mold problem (triggering my autoimmune shit) making me sick and homeless at the start of winter. The house was soon after condemned.

The intense spiral continued and I found myself under constant stress and frequent moments of anxiety. My body responded as it does. Sickness, inflammation and weight gain. I thought I had found my out when I found the little house in the country. After two years of not having a place to call home, I thought I'd struck gold. And I did in many ways. The community is amazing, and I couldn't have asked for better neighbours. And did I mention that million dollar view? At least a thousand times by now..

Unfortunately, the stress did not subside. Moving to the country in the middle of a harsh winter and not knowing anyone was a gamble. Still freshly self employed, every day of snow meant jobsite shutdown which meant no money. It snowed and snowed. The anxiety rocked me. Then not three months in to our tenancy in the little farm house, the landlord started with his threats. He had a problem with every little thing we did. This trend continued over the almost three years we lived there. Not being able to afford anything else (and loving everything about being there besides the owner), we decided to stick it out. Between his ignorance and constant use of poisons (without notice as he's supposed to before spraying), my stress levels and associated illness ran rampant.

But I was in denial. How could we find such a seemingly perfect place to be and yet have so many problems? It's a thing. I woke up every day for months with intense gut aches. It became my new normal. I continued with my challenge to find health. I started jogging in the evenings after work, I bought a juicer, I went to bed early. It seemed like I'd get somewhere for a little while, and then the struggle would intensify. I lost my energy. The daily aches and chronic fatigue caught up with me. I drowned it all out with distractions like farming and animals and volunteering for our local market.

This past summer I hit my Tipping Point. The truck had major problems. It cost a bunch of money to fix, but still not enough for it to be worth it to sell her. Having to take out a loan meant I would be getting short paychecks for a while, missing a few days lost me enough money that everything I had saved to fly home I had spent, and my folks ended up buying me the tickets to fly home. I was grateful for the wonderful gift, but at the same time horrendously anxious about leaving the farm and my job for that length of time with literally no money to spare.

It was almost a month to the day before I was supposed to fly to Ontario, when my landlord decided that evicting me was the best course of action for something we disagreed on. I was given 30 days notice, the day I was to vacate the premises was the day I was to land in Ontario. That was it. That was the straw that broke me. I was overwhelmed with sickness from the stress of the situation. I was absolutely devastated. On top of that, not three days later our Back-up Plan fell through and our friend was also evicted from the 5-acre property we had been slowly moving our farm to. By that point I was already in shock, and there wasn't much that would surprise me.

Going home was my saving grace. It couldn't have happened at a better time. My spirits have been uplifted. Spending time with my family was a good start in the healing process. Though I wasn't fully aware of what lied ahead in my journey to health, I'm 111% sure that I wouldn't have found the same kind of motivation elsewhere. I'm still tired. Everything still hurts. But you all reminded me that I will make it. That this journey is just another of my crazy adventures, and I'll figure it out. That under the pain and sickness, I'm still me.. Sadie Sea.

Stay tuned...

Vagabond-ish.

Once a vagabond, always a vagabond. In mind and in spirit, and occasionally in body too. Though I've had a pretty solid home base for 8 months, it's hard not to feel like a squatter. I am, after all, on someone else's farmland. My partner and I both feel this way. You just never know where life will take us, where we may have to move to find work, or what might happen to this ever-changing landscape. We have planted seeds and established roots here, and have even planned our layout for next year's crops. But that doesn't mean we aren't ready to move on if we have to.

The nature of our work keeps us on the road most days. We usually make it home to sleep, but keep a bit of camping gear in the van just in case. And we always have a tote of food and water, a portable kitchen, and a change of clothes too. What a change from living out of a rucksack. I can carry a lot more things. I try my best to keep it minimal. Last summer I would drag my rucksack with me to work, if I didn't have time to make it to my storage locker in the morning. I'd be the one getting changed and brushing my teeth in the staff bathroom.

People get a kick out of us at lunch time when we bring out the stove top to cook. We have been asked on more than one occasion if we just live in our van, a question to which we never really have a straight answer. Last winter before we'd found this place, we had organized ourselves in such a way that we would essentially be camping at our jobsites. We were prepared to use the resources we had access to such as the electricity to keep us warm and charge our wares, and on some more remote sites using scrap lumber to build a fire. Every town has a laundromat, every gas station has a washroom we could use to get clean.

As ready as we were, I'm glad we found our little farm house in the valley. It's our piece of paradise. We fit in well here, and quite enjoy the country life. If we do decide to move on, I refuse to do so unless we find something just like what we have, only better. Garden space, a river out front, mountain views, and we're allowed to have our smoker and fire pit too.. we're kind of spoiled. A home base that satiates our vagabond-ish needs. It's kind of like camping, with a roof and power and ruining water.

Winter is making it's way back again as quickly as it left, and we are preparing. Totes need stocking with food and water, firewood needs collecting, and seeds need to be stored. We must look into purchasing some warmer wares and repairing what we have. The generator is good to go. The garden is winding down, the freezer is almost full.

Wherever I am, I am home.

Whether it's here in this farmhouse in the valley, or on a patch of gravel in my van down by the river, no matter where I find myself, I am home.

3 years later...

Ah man I'm bad at this. It's been an eventful summer that's for sure. The garden exploded, and we've literally been feeding the town with it. We use our produce in barter and trade, and the freezer chest is full. Loads of it are just given away. It's a beautiful garden, my best one yet. It's a fair bit of work to maintain, but it's more than worth it.

It's been a long, hot season. It's rained sparsely twice in the past 3 months, and this is the worst season for wildfires yet. We had a few days of relief from the smoke, but as I drove home today I could see a thick haze on the horizon. We're enveloped once again.

We find relief from the heat out on the water. My partner reclaimed a boat he had stashed in a barn. It took us a bit to get it up and running again, but it's been well used since. We are surrounded by lakes and waterways and blessed with beautiful places to fish. Our season started out well, we caught 7 rainbow trout in a few hours on our first lake run. Only half the luck since, and now we're waiting for the salmon. And the rain.

Work has been ...interesting. I have learned a lot in the 8 months I've been working with metal. I am learning from the best. Our team is highly sought after in the valley. Contract work can be unpredictable at times though when it comes to lining up jobs (and getting paid for them). We've had a couple nerve racking lulls, but then a week later we're turning down work because we're booked solid. It's kind of funny that we live in a tiny little farm house, and work in 4-8,000 square foot homes worth millions. And some with unbelievable views. BC stands for bring cash, and man do they ever.

I wish they'd share the wealth... though our schedule is full, our budget is still hella tight. We just barely made rent on time for the first of the month, and with so many bills coming up [and a couple weeks before we can expect any more pay] everything is on the line. My wheels, my phone, and ultimately our home. If only we could pay rent with vegetables...


It makes me think about the perception of wealth. If produce was currency, I'd be rich. Therefore, I suppose I am. It's reassuring to know that if the economy went for a dump, at least we can produce our own food, and lots of it. We need to get a bigger fire safe for our seed collection.

Besides going to work and our occasional trips to town, we live a very simple, localized lifestyle. It's very old timey and laid-back. As I was saying about the barter and trade, it's a part of life out here for 'people of the valley'. Most of our food came from somewhere in this community, trading zucchini and squash for farm fresh eggs, and our tomatoes and seeds for the sweetest corn on the cob I've ever tasted. It's such a contrast from city life, out here in the country.

Which by the way, was always a dream of mine. It's been 3 years now since I landed here. 3 years ago I stepped off that greyhound bus. I had no real plan.. If you would have asked me right then and there where I'd have seen myself three years later, I wouldn't know what to tell you. I could have ended up anywhere, or continuously traveled.. I could have gone back east, back to the land from which I came. but I'm still here.. I somehow passed the test of time that comes with east-coast peeps moving west. many go back in the first year and a half. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it more than once. 


 It wasn't the easiest choice to make, nor the easiest ride to take when i decided to stay. I've faced almost as much adversity the past three years as I had in the 29 years before that, but also experienced some of the most beautiful, priceless moments of my life. I would never take it back for anything. the places that I've been, the people that I've met.. it's just incredible. Even if I had to lose everything once or twice to get there. Even if I had to miss everyone back home so much to make these new connections, I would never wish it hadn't happened. 

If someone would have approached me that day I stepped off the bus and told me where I'd be in a few years and what I'd be doing, my response would probably be something along the lines of 'I wish...' and that's the craziest part of all. I wouldn't have believed it. Couldn't have even dreamt it... at the same time now that I'm here, I couldn't have imagined it any other way. Although I have these memories of my mother speculating how my life might end up if I moved out west, and it's almost creepy how spot on she was. I didn't really believe her either. But if I remember correctly, I'm pretty sure I did say 'I wish'. If I could only tell her, and hear her say 'I told you so...'. But I do. 

I do.

Just when you think it's alright...

Suddenly, it isn't. I mean it's not the end of the world or anything, it just feels like it in this moment. I suppose it's a good thing I have a hard time getting comfortable in life situations, because in a moment (especially when you least expect it), everything can change.

Sometimes my anxiety gets the best of me, but sometimes it saves my ass. It's too soon to tell which way things will go, but I'm doing what I can right now to be ready for anything.

As I was saying the last time I wrote, this past year has been one of the best in my life. I've made so much progress on a personal level, overcoming my fear of driving, building on a career learning a new trade, and finally establishing a real home base. Having a partner at my side through it all that doesn't give up is a real plus. It all seemed 'too good to be true'. Maybe I was right.

But maybe it's just a bump in the road. Maybe we'll get it all sorted out. Maybe we can find work in time before we lose out on our place. The feeling of potential imminent loss has made me realize how much I truly do appreciate where I've gotten. But isn't that always how it goes.

...

We took a chance venturing out on our own as subcontractors in a trade that's greatly sought after. We had so much work, we hadn't taken a weekend in months. We were exhausted, but finally getting to a point where we could get ahead. A couple more weeks of plugging away, and we'd afford our vacation.

When we showed up for work a couple days ago, there was no material on site. When it finally arrived, so did a cheaper, inexperienced crew to install it. Which was all fine and good, as we were about to jump ship for another company that offered us full time work and an array of new tools. As we'd prepared to do so, we learned that it's not an option until spring.

So here we sit, broke and confused. What just happened? How did we go from too much work to no work at all? Is this because I asked for a day off?! Be careful what you wish for, I suppose.

...

With little else to do but think, we chose not to. We took to the lakes and rivers to calm our minds. We paced the garden picking produce from the vines. This morning I spent making calls out for potential work, with no leads as of yet. And now I sit here folding laundry, catching up on chores around the house we've been too busy working to get around to, wondering what the hell we're gonna do to keep it all. Or what the next step might be if we can't.

I'm prepared for the possibility that I could end up on this journey on my own, once again. But I'm hopeful that won't be the case. Flying solo has its advantages, but happiness is so much better when it's shared. Struggles are a little easier too. Just in case, my anxious mind is listing what to do if everything falls through.

Looking around the house, I'm taking inventory of all the things I need to keep, stuff we can get rid of, and what all could go to storage if need be. Preparing myself to once again be mobile, living in my van. Mapping out the towns that might be best to bum around in.

...


It's been a long day. I ended up at the beach, in the quiet. No sound but the waves of the approaching tide. The sun is setting and the heat of the day finally wanes. I'm thankful for these places I can tuck myself away. I'm glad that despite my ever changing situation I can find peace in the chaos. I'm grateful for all that I have, if only for today.


x

4/20

I never thought today would be so hard. 14 years ago today was my first day in the field rocking my film SLR capturing the 420 scenes, celebrations and marches for freedom with the crew. Matt if you're reading this, thank you times a million for bringing me along. It's also my 14 year friendiversary with everyone's good homie Clay, and his amazing family. Today is the first year since that I haven't talked to him on this day. I miss him. We all do.

Three years ago was the first Toronto march since that I did not attend. It also happened to be Easter Sunday that day, and my mama didn't want to be alone. She invited me over for Chinese food Easter/birthday dinner. It was the first time in years I'd seen her smile (with teeth!), and the last time I ever hugged her goodbye. If only I had known it'd be the last time I'd see her face to face.

...

Yet as I stand here in this garden, they are with me. My mother lives on in the sunlight that shines bright through the rain. Our brother is heard in the excitement in our voices as we rejoice the emergence of new life. I believe it to be true that we live on in the hearts and minds of those who love us.

Today I am thankful for these memories. Today I am grateful to have my bare feet in the soil, watching my garden grow. For my life and everyone who has been a part of it, I am blessed. 

Reflect-ions... and moving forward.

The papers are signed, and about a week from now the keys will be in my hand. Though I've been doing everything I can to prepare for this coming move, it's all so suddenly hit me. Not just what's coming, but the entire journey up to this point.. starting on the coast having no idea what I'd do or where I'd end up. Taking life one day at a time has taken me on some incredible journeys, unlike anything I could have planned for if I tried. And I like it.

I'm so glad I kept this blog. Moments are fleeting, and having something to look back on revives the feelings from those moments so that I can better appreciate the triumphs and struggles along the way. It hasn't always been easy.. in fact it probably hasn't ever been easy, but well worth every second, every step. I wouldn't take any of it back. It's hard to believe at times, like it's all been one long-ass crazy dream that I have yet to wake up from.

A house. A home. For real this time. Not just a room in a place, or a couch or a mat on someone's living room floor, not an apartment or a basement suite, not a tent or a truck bed or the back of a van. A real, tiny little house. On farm land, in the mountains, down by the river. Not that I never appreciated any of those other forms of shelter.. this is just.. different. It's still hard to fathom, to imagine my impending reality. I've waited what seems like forever for a chance like this. Even if only for a little while, I will enjoy it thoroughly.

It's pretty well off the grid. We're lucky to have electricity, the only service run out that far. The water is from a well, and there's no sewer. We will have no cable TV, no curbside pickup, no fast food on the corner. I'm stoked and kind of nervous all at once. It's a commitment, to keep a steady income in our unpredictable situation, to keep a reliable vehicle on the road, to one another. We'll be essentially stuck out there together, alone.

I can't wait.

This week I know will fly by fast. We're doing all that we can to prepare, but the biggest thing right now is collecting pay for all the work we've been doing. Contract work only pays when the work is done, and when you're waiting on other contractors to finish their part so you can finish yours, it gets a little nerve racking. It's hard to 'save up' for anything in a place where the cost of living is barely achievable, hence the decision to move somewhere cheaper. We have to get there first.

Next step will be finding a bed, and stocking the cupboards as best we can. Baking goods, rice, canned vegetables and soups will be our first trip, to augment fresh foods we collect along the way. It will be like going back in time almost a century, which in my opinion, is exactly where we belong. Our fishing rods will always be readied for a catch, and acquiring hunting licenses is on the list of to-dos.

The most exciting part for me will be building garden beds. The land owner agreed that I can do as I wish in those regards, as long as what I use is all organic. No problems there! Once the trust is established, I get a key to the gate to watch over the fields. I'll have access to the back end of the farm, to keep an eye on the irrigation and collect some of those sweet blueberries if I please. If this is just a dream, don't bother waking me...

time to fly.

 
eleven hours from now i'll be at the airport. i wasn't really expecting to be going home any time soon. the circumstances i'm still having a hard time believing. the loss of such an amazing friend, father, brother to so many.. and husband to an equally amazing, loving wife. the two of them are one of a kind. i guess it was his time to fly. so i'm flying home to say goodbye.


or see ya later..

i'm at a loss for words really. what can i say? there's not enough words, or the right ones.. he was a gentle hearted fella with a warrior spirit. his love for life and his kids and his wife was always apparent and abundant. more than just a give you the shirt off his back kinda guy, the help you move with his minivan in a heartbeat kinda man [even if he could barely move himself].. he truly was a brother and a good friend to many hearts.

i'm often reminded of a conversation we had a good many years ago. i was telling him about how frequent and crazy vivid my deja vu experiences are. and how on the odd occasion i'd know something already that i could have never known before that deja vu moment. i asked him what it meant. i knew he'd have the kind of answer i was looking for.


he: so basically, those moments are significant somehow. a sort of sign that you're on the right path.
me: even when shit's fucked up?
he: *chuckles* even when shit's fucked up. i hate to say the old cliche, 'everything happens for a reason' but..
me: everything happens in it's time.
he: exactly.


i had a really strange and fleeting deja vu moment while talking with a friend about the garden and when i realized it, i recited the above conversation. i found out about an hour later he was gone.

so many incredible people have been taken from us in the past short span. it's hard to try and find the reason, or believe it was their time. but we are bluntly reminded not to take our days for granted. to love and live like any one of 'em could be our last. celebrate the small things. don't sweat the big ones. smile. have cake for breakfast every once in a while. enjoy all the good stuff this crazy life is made of.

rest easy papa Clay. we're gonna miss you man. we already do.
lots of love.

xo

thank you to everyone who has extended a hand to get me home. thank you to all the kind folks who have sent funds to help support his family and take care of things in this time of incredible loss. your kindness is a blessing.

sorry. thanks, too..

i don't even know where to start.

to all you amazing people who have been putting up with my ass while i fell to bits the last couple years, giving zero shits.. i'm sorry. and thanks. you know what for, you know who you are. i fucked up huge, i let myself slip.. emotionally, mentally, physically, financially.. i've been in pretty rough shape. well up to me neck in what-the-fucks. i'm sorry for losing my head. i'm still working on getting it back. sorry to the friends and fams i kinda stopped talking to, i felt i had nothing good to say. sorry for pissing and moaning about the inevitable given my choices. thanks for listening. sorry i've been a real fucking tool the past little while. thanks for loving me anyways.

now about that getting back to the better me. or moving forward rather..
i have one hell of a long path to wander.
but i'm on my way.

i know letting go is a big part of this. letting go of people on several levels, places, things... all the things. oh and the feels too. it ain't easy. especially when those people hold big chunks of your heart. especially when those places are/were the worldly homes of those people. especially when those things belong(ed) to them. and fuck the feels. there's that one thing i have no idea how i should feel about.. the truck. miss Sally.

when i used that there trust for the first time in a while, mixed with a little credit (no, a lot).. things got messy. go team. on one hand i know it was stupid to register my vehicle in someone else's name. i had given it away right then and there. on the other hand even if i didn't, i wouldn't be able to take it back just the same. i do have a heart, obviously. this way i have no choice. i let it go. what else can i do? same as the friendship with the person driving her. and the credit that bought her.. an all around unfortunate set of losses. i fucked up. or did i? guess i'll never know.

i had a hard time with my mother's ashes. i know it's just ash but.. i liked having that physical representation of carrying her. as i did all my life. i wanted to take her to the sea shore below the mountains and set her to the wind this past mother's day. two years that weekend. i lost my shit when i couldn't get at her ashes. i lost my shit even harder when i got my things back and found they were gone. i was off in the head for a bit over that one.

and the slanty shanty too. i miss that house. it was the first place i called 'home' here on this transplanting to the west coast. i squatted there a few times before i finally got a room of my own. unfortunately the friend who lived in there previously had passed on shortly after giving me the place. and that was a hard pill to swallow. so was being forced to leave, when it finally became [beyond] uninhabitable. a couple seasons of camping out and the odd couch it took before i could accept the possibility of a place to call mine. here i am, still sort of adjusting.

speaking of which, thanks to the lovely lady who took me in. an angel, in the flesh. for real. she truly lives up to her name. by supposed random coincidence, she saved the day. and i am so incredibly grateful. i have a home base. still do a lot of camping, by choice instead of necessity. kinda nicer that way.

anyhoo.. i owe a pretty big apology to myself too. dah.. i worked sooo freakin hard to get my health back before i moved out west. it's been on a steady down hill slide since shortly after i got here. i became complacent, i got lazy. i stopped giving a shit, really. i'm pretty sure i found about thirty of the eighty pounds i lost, my kidneys ache constantly and my digestive system refuses to move in the right direction at times. it's time to pay better attention to what i'm putting in me, and take better care of myself. again.

somewhere along the line i stopped believing i was worth it. more like i'm just passing time instead of serving a purpose so i just kinda said fuck it. i felt not so worthy of good things, good feelings... not like me i know. i'm sorry to me for feeling that way. time to pull up me socks and get on with it. i still have a panic attack every now and then, slightly less symptomatic of the PTSD the past month or so, most likely due to far less environmental triggers. having a home base helps immensely, even if it's just a shared flat. i feel like i can finally start to get back on my feet. and i'm taking full advantage of what i've got. i will find my health again. i will get my sexy back. i will not only survive this shit, i will thrive. i will not give up.

i'm thankful for this second [or fifth or sixth] chance at making it out here. in a lot of ways i'm not doing all too well, but in the most important ways right now, i'm doing a lot better. shit gets rough but i'm still in love with life. it never ceases to trip me right the hell out, and bless me with the presence of some crazy rad people. hella sweet views too. and i am eternally blessed to finally find some balance... or rather have the balance find me. thank you. so much.



xo

careful wishes...

i can't even count how many times i've said it the past couple years...
careful what you wish for. it's like manifesting shit right outta the universe, so be careful how you word it, or of your intent.. something like that. anyways..

it was my birthday a couple few weeks ago. i received a generous giftcard in the mail to grab up some food and supplies for the weekend in the bush, and it was insisted that i grab a cake. candles a must too. birthday wishes, it's a thing.

so i did. the day was almost over, one hour til midnight before we finally sparked it up. i was procrastinating. what do i wish? what would i change?

i wished for a do-over. not completely, i never regret a thing, just.. some sort of fresh start knowing what i know. begin again from the beginning with the acquired wisdom of the past couple years out west.

suddenly, everything changed.

and i am truly blessed.

day 22

well that went quick. sometimes. other moments lasted a day themselves. i'm a pretty firm believer that everything happens in it's time, and i'm glad i took this time to just be. i'm so grateful that i was able to spend an hour almost every morning this month slowly pacing the garden, picking snacks, harvesting lunch and care packages. it feels so much more natural waking with the sun to toil in the garden or work for food than to get up by alarm and miss the day while inside hustling the best hours away.

it takes time to learn the value of a dollar. it takes wisdom to learn the value of time, of days and of moments. to me right now, nothing means more than taking my time. at any moment it could be over, and i'm particularly sensitive these days about not wasting any more time.

every day since i decided to opt out of the common north american lifestyle has been a blessing. i don't regret opting in in the first place. having lived both domesticated and not, i have a good idea of the balance i can achieve to have some sort of stability with the freedom i need to move around. i learned a lot about myself and the world, and now have a better idea of what i want to do with myself, a greater sense of purpose. the basis of my purpose being to get the most out of life while helping others do the same. and to give back, always giving back.

finally i've had time to give back to the people in my life who have helped to make it the epic experience that it has been. walking around the hometown i've taken for granted with the loved ones i never had time for, and traveling to other towns and cities in the peninsula to hit up friends and family for more laughs and moments. i'm especially grateful for this time after years of 40 hour work weeks and having weekends to juggle relaxation and recuperation with getting chores done and maybe, just maybe visiting friends. i like this better. the sacrifices i have to make to sustain this mode a while are well worth it.

i leave for the west coast tuesday. i've been living out of a pile in the corner that will be all i am bringing with me. i prepared my packs a couple weeks ago so that i can get a feel for what i'm bringing, and have time to swap things out that i may not need as much as other things. i haven't really been home much except to sleep which was out in the tent most of the summer.

today i'm mostly catching up, doing some laundry, maybe another trip to the garage, and sorting out my funds. soon come mountains, soon come ocean, soon come one long-ass bus ride. but first, a few more slightly less long bus journeys to visit more homies before i go. tomorrow, KW.

Happy Mother's Day Mom.

 it doesn't feel quite as apocalyptic as it did 42 hours ago, but i can tell you it's been the longest weekend of my life. you were always so sick, my brother and i had been preparing to get that call for over a decade now.. it's just... it finally came in the moment we least expected. well, it's nice to know you gave it your all in the last six months of your life. i'm glad as your children we could give you the motivation you needed to start turning your life around.

when i heard you tell me that for the first time in as long as you could remember you were finally happy, i felt as though the clouds for miles and centuries had finally parted to let in a little light. my heart was filled with hope that you would make it through and it would be a lovely summer. knowing you were happy and doing fine, Dan and i didn't feel the need to constantly check in on you to make sure you were still kicking. you had your best friend there with you finally, and we had a moment to plan a super awesome mother's day surprise.

Danno got his full license monday morning, and we rented a truck the very next day to haul some dirt and mulch and sheep shit back home to the garden. we were talking about how we could get you out of the house now, and take you to all the places you couldn't get to on your own. we would pick you up for mother's day, and take you to your favourite restaurant for all you can eat, and bring a great big basket of all your favourite fruits you were missing out on. now that you had your smile back [both your happiness AND your teeth] it'd be a good time getting in some practice.

so anyways, back to the garden. i spent the week laying it down, and working in a nice, soft, golden cedar path for you to walk on. all i could think was how your brand new little red scooter was good enough for the ride to get you here and back all by yourself. it's gonna be huge this year, i was so proud to think that i finally had the 'farm' in the works for you to come enjoy. fresh toasted tomato sammiches for days.

i had a hard time sleeping thursday night.

i'm not sure if it was because i knew it was the last night i didn't have to set an alarm to wake up on my vacation, or if i was just super excited to get the seeds in the ground. i felt a little strange as the clock turned closer to four a.m. and i was still awake here waiting for the sunrise. maybe i had a feeling it was the final hour of your life. when i realized the time i laid down for a couple hours of shut-eye.

when i opened the door to the outside, the warm breeze brought the smell of summer. after so many long frigid days and dark and frosty nights it was nice to finally step out into the suN. i prepared what i needed slowly, and carefully. the seeds i was most excited for was the mammoth sunflowers. they would tower over us one day soon. a few more finishing touches and i could call to let you know you'd see it Sunday afternoon.

...

it was 4:19 when the phone rang.

Dan was on the line. did you get a strange call from the police station just now? i said no why what's going on? "they said it was about our mother and they can't tell me anything over the phone." he told me he was on his way to the station and he'd call me back as soon as he knew the situation. i hung up the phone. 4:20p.m.

4:21... i opened my tear filled eyes. the sky covered over quickly. suddenly we'd lost the suN. the wind picked up, i thought.. i'd better get the tools inside before they turn into wind-born projectiles. i made it back inside the doorway as the clouds opened up. i stood there with my arms outstretched to feel the rain. i knew that you were gone.

...

every single moment since has passed like an eternity. there's a sort of silence i can't fully describe. it takes what feels like years to fall asleep, and it hurts like hell to know that i can't call you when i wake up. i kept looking at my phone waiting for the next "Mom" text to arrive.

i called your best friend as soon as i found his number. we went to visit him and made sure he's okay. it's one thing to lose your mother, but to no longer have the partner you dedicated your life to, i couldn't imagine the pain. i call him every morning, afternoon and night. he shares your happy stories with me, i think he'll be alright.

...

i know you always hated mother's day. you felt like you didn't deserve it, like you weren't entitled to a celebration. no matter how much we told you that we forgave you, you could never forgive yourself. you lost your mother when she was young too, and you never did seem to let it go. you missed her so much. we told you we just wouldn't be us if it wasn't for everything we'd lived through, and we owed our strength to you. i hope you finally realized how amazing you are, for loving us the way you did through everything. maybe you didn't know exactly how to 'be a mother' just yet, but you were always very proud.

Happy Mother's Day Mom. it feels so sad to say, but it was a little easier to be with you this way. it broke our hearts to watch you suffer. i wish you didn't spend so many years of your life sick and in pain. physically, emotionally.. and spiritually drained. you cried, and you worried, and you smoked your life away. and i miss you more each passing moment. but i know you have found peace.

...

we met up at your building extra early. when we called the superintendent he finally answered and said, sorry we'll be at church for the day, i was a little disappointed that we wouldn't get into your place. but it was okay. we sat in the park to look through the photos in my rucksack in the shade. it was a beautiful day, all the trees had blossoms. we picked through happy memories together.

the super called us back. him and his family decided they'd come home early, and would be there to let us in right away. we looked gently around your apartment. underneath the dust and nicotine was a perfectly preserved story of a mother's love. all the pictures on the walls were family, but for the most part every wall was us. and your art.. i loved it when you painted. you kept every christmas greeting, and each handwritten note in a big brown envelope. every rock, every postcard, every silly little gift from the dollar store. you didn't have much, but you held on to what was important. your children... your love.

...

oh and i wanted to let you know that i wished aunt Sue a Happy Mother's Day too. i told her i was sorry that it'd been so long since we last spoke, and that i was grateful for her always being there for you and me and Dan when we were younger. she too is a mother, and a proud one just like you. i made her a collage of a few photos:

the first one one in the corner is a photo you took of her and your mom. she's got that silly aunt Sue smile on, and Monna is smiling at you too. next to that one in the middle is a picture of you by the lake. anywhere with your fishing rod was always a happy place. then there's a photo of you in the driver's seat with your leather cowboy hat on. and that sunny smile... it was your first rocky mountain road trip and you savoured every moment's last drop. below that is a photo of me and my baby brother, cuddling in style. you always love it that we loved each other. and the last one there in frame is the photo of your silhouette against the sunset. it was your favourite photo of you, and how you always liked to remember yourself.


...


we love you mom, and we miss you very much. we promise to carry on your legacy of patience, acceptance, tolerance, and unconditional love. your story will transcend intolerance and indifference and inspire mothers and fathers and children and lovers to take care of one another and themselves. we will spend our sundays together and listen to all the music you left us with, and sing along with you. we won't waste any time sweating the small stuff, we'll do what we want, and we'll remember to take our time.


-xoxo

...where did all this stuff come from?

i have always naturally been interested in living a minimal lifestyle. now that i'm housed it has become more of a challenge, one that i feel is time to get serious about right away. these things especially come to mind this time of year, when people feel the need to go out and spend money on things to give one another that we may or may not even need. personally i've never really been huge on the idea, i'd rather spend time than money on the people that i love. the smiles and memories long outlast plastic gadgets and trendy do-dads and toys.

you would think that a person who has spent a considerable amount of time living out of a rucksack may not own a lot of things, but in my case it seems this rolling stone did pick up an abundance of moss along the way. i had become so resourceful in the craft of living sans address that i had several different places to store my things and lost track of what i had already owned.

finally in the last move, all of my [and matthew's] possessions are together under one roof.. err, in a tiny basement apartment that we share. he had recently spent his share of time floating around surfing couches and crashing where he could, which means his stuff was scattered all about as well. now that it's all together in one place, it has come a bit of a chore to deal with. we spent the majority of our year after moving here gardening, working, traveling and generally being outdoors. now that hibernation time is upon us, the piles of stuff we spent a few seasons pushing aside is now our current task.

having all of my stuff split up made it seem like i had a lot less than i actually do, and it also means that a lot of what i own consists of clothing and gear. most of the clothes are second hand or hand-me-downs that i acquired over many years of being thrifty and requiring layers to survive. i even had stashed away in my dad's basement totes of things from my early childhood like artwork and stuffed animals, namely beanie babies. in a friend's closet i had three totes of art supplies, two of photos and albums, a small tote of camera gear. in my main storage a selection of camping gear, blankets, rucksacks and various footwear to coordinate with the seasons.

oh, and books. lots and lots of books. between the two of us, we have our own personal library right here in our apartment. everything from anime to health and nutrition, fiction and philosophy, gardening and textbooks and a bunch of stuff in between. put it all together with a mishmash of random junk that has snuck into the boxes and bags and totes and you've got way too much stuff.

phew! see, it even took a bunch of paragraphs to explain all the stuff we already have, and we don't need any more. this season we are taking the time to go through the things that we already have and making use of them, donating what we don't need and organizing our inventory so that it is more accessible. we've already made some great finds on our mission of living a more minimalist low-impact lifestyle. one of these key finds; old journals from my rucksack days. at that point in my life i lived with so little that i was profoundly more grateful for every little thing.

this sense of gratitude i find kept me fulfilled and i rarely longed for more than i had. the memories from this mentality reminded me of this, and how important it is to acknowledge the 'sacredness' of every little thing in our lives, material and not. and at the same time how to let go of things that i once held so sacred. it's a delicate balance that if not well maintained will result in ditching things i never meant to, or hording things for the fact that i don't want them to go to waste.

i'm not sure where i'm going with this post, i guess i just didn't want to forget all that. random thoughts that came to mind when i was asked what i wanted for 'christmas'. you know what i want for christmas? ...less stuff.

life after: winter sun

i promised myself i'd write more about my past, i don't see it at all as something to be ashamed of, but something to celebrate in many ways. first off, i survived.. and some would say that some of those years were the best years of my life.

living outside was once my preferred lifestyle. at first i had little choice in the matter, but once i got used to it, it wasn't easy to go back to being housed. i am still reminded in my everyday life what it was like to be on the outside, and i cherish those moments.. for those are the moments that people seek to achieve and have a hard time doing so, living 'in the now'.. being 'present'. it's one of those things that people in this rush and go society barely know, but out there.. every hour of every day is made up of moments. it's hard not to be present when every thing you do and every choice you make has an impact on the reality of your survival.

i still have my cart, the one i used to load up from my storage on laundry day so that i could wash everything i own at once. i also used it a lot when moving from place to place, from one storage room to another.. once of course i learned that it is possible to hang onto more than just what one can carry on one's back. anyway, i still use that cart for my laundry. i don't think i've ever had the luxury of owning a washer and dryer, but the low-impact mentality in me doesn't mind.

it was a pretty winter day, the first real snow had fallen, and the sun was out. it would also be the first day of the season i'd have to drag that cart out through the snow to wash our clothes. i did so with a grin on my face. i was well bundled, looked more like an urban gypsy than a girl going to do some laundry. after putting our clothes in the machine i hung my coat and went to sit out front to get some of that sun on my face while i had the chance.

there weren't any clouds in the way, the air was still and crisp.. when i closed my eyes and settled into the plastic lawn chair i was brought back.. i remember those moments, those breaks in the cold. when the sun was warm enough to peel back some of the layers and embrace it's rays. as if the goddess herself had sent a personal message to remind me that the cold never lasts forever.

my alarm startled me a little. i must have drifted off into the sun, into the stillness. i felt truly at rest. i remember now, the best time to get some sleep [out there] was times just like this. i would spend the coldest nights wandering to stay warm, and make up for the missed sleep when the sun would come around to watch over me.

i tucked my folded clothes back into the cart and started back towards home just as the sun was setting in my eyes. i didn't mind the glare. i knew the cold was coming back for the evening. with each step towards the house i recited my gratitudes, for the clean clothes i carry behind me, for the warm bed i have to go home to, for the food in my fridge, and the fridge for my food.. for the shelter and the company. i am blessed.

like one of those...

working in a customer service environment, i tend to meet a lot of interesting people. some of them love to tell their story. so today i'm doing my inventory thing in the razor aisle, and this woman comes up to me to ask me where to find something [naturally]. after i tell her where to go, she picks up a shaver and starts to tell me a story about her young son.

she explains how she's trying to get him to take better care of his personal hygiene, and so chooses to purchase him the most trendy smells and gels and products to use. but the one thing he doesn't like to do is shave his face. she tells me that she insisted he scrapes that scraggly little beard off of his face, and leans in to say to me jokingly, "wouldn't want him looking like one of those homeless bums on the street". heh.

nope, wouldn't want that i said.

i wasn't sure how to feel at first, but i'm guessing my tone suggested i may have been a little annoyed by her comment. the first response that came to my mind was 'yea, cause i know when i was homeless, i preferred the bums that shaved over the ones that didn't'.. but i held my tongue. i don't know, maybe i wasn't offended. i think i was just shocked a little. it's almost as if to say something like "i tell my son to wear extra sunscreen because i wouldn't want him looking like one of those black guys."

i mean, i know she didn't mean any harm by it, and i didn't even take personal offense to it, it just seems like one of those things you just don't say. maybe it's not even the words she said that stunned me, but the way she said them. the look on her face.. for a split second her lip curled and her nose scrunched and her eyes squinted and she actually looked disgusted at the idea of a homeless bum on the street.

yeah, that's it. that's what it is that bothers me. the idea that this person may have been disgusted at the thought of a homeless person. maybe that's because my thoughts towards a homeless person are totally opposite of what i assume hers are. she's simply ignorant to the whole situation, and i'm not. it's one of those moments where you wish you had all day to open someones mind on something that you're very passionate about, but you just can't because, well.. that just won't fly on the clock.

...

winter is when i remember best to express my gratitudes.. i'm reminded every time i shudder in the cold, feel the winter wind whip my face or get soaked in freezing rain how amazing it is that i have a house to go home to. i feel so grateful thinking about that bed and all those blankets and clean clothes to change into after a hot shower.. and fresh food waiting to be prepared. i love our little home. being housed wasn't always my preferred lifestyle, i've changed. i still enjoy some quality time on the outside whenever i can get it, but i'm glad i have what i have. and i share whenever i get the chance.

soft

i was pacing back and forth out front of the laundromat today, the wind had picked up and the billowing dark clouds carried in sure signs of winter's approach. i could feel myself shiver and clench my teeth a little.. damn, i've gotten soft i thought. it's been a good few years since i was 'homeless' or spent any good amount of time outside on purpose. i felt weak in that moment thinking, i'm not sure i'd be able to handle it again.

but then again.. back in those days the thought of being a domesticated creature racked me. i could have never seen myself pursuing a 'career' of any sort, or having the desire to settle, be contained by four walls, own anything or marry.. my how i've changed.

or have i?

every once in a while i'm overtaken by anxiety.. i think to myself, what in the hell have i gotten myself into? i rent a place, i work full time, i have this stuff and did those things that i now have to pay for.. i'm locked in. stuck.. imprisoned by the very lifestyle i swore against long ago..

or am i?

nah. i'm not stuck. if i really wanted out bad enough, i'd have left already. it's not all that bad. in this moment i am content sitting at my laptop with some candles going and a bowl of pomegranate seeds to snack on. i have bills to pay and a job to wake up early for tomorrow and a hubby that lights up my world with joy.

the experiences in my past have definitely changed the way i live out my life as a housed person, maybe for the better. i'm not the biggest 'minimalist' i've ever met, but i habitually live with fewer things than most people in my general societal filing. can't afford much more than what i've got so i suppose it's a good thing that i'm happy to have a litte as opposed to a lot.

but back to the softness..

sometimes my mind wanders back and wonders what would happen if i found myself suddenly in that situation again, if i would have the energy and resourcefulness i'd need to be a happy streetkid. firstly, i'm not a kid anymore, and a lot of my old resources no longer exist. especially my favourite hiding spots.. city improvements and rural development have killed them off almost completely. i'd have to go back to wandering with my rucksack, and hit the highway for another place to be.

but that's no longer me. maybe a little part that shines through every once in a while, i keep it fed with weekend excursions and vacations as often as i can to a faraway land. maybe it's not that i've gotten soft but other parts of me are hardened.. the callouses that once covered my feet from beating pavement have migrated to my hands from turning earth. i'd rather build a home than find one, and plant my food than dive a dumpster for it or get in line.

today, that is.

just today..

a strange sense of panic washed over me

when i realized,

the closest place to find firewood

is at the store.

the weekend blogger

apparently i only post on the weekends.. i scrolled the last half dozen posts or so and i think five of them were specifically sunday. interesting.. well, that's about to change. my schedule at work is finally changing. i have been lucky enough to have weekends off for.. well the better part of the past three years actually, don't know how i managed to swing that, but i did. half of it was on the graveyard shift but still, weekends off!! it's one of those 'unheard-of'' things at my workplace, unless you've worked there forever, or you have a strictly office-hours-only role. i've played the latter a couple times now, and the former is starting to apply... but no less, i am monday to friday no more.

in fact, i will actually have to start writing my schedule down again.. and setting a separate alarm for waking up each day, even my start time is varying! strange. but what is even more strange is that this is the change.. that i have become used to having routines and an appearance of normalcy in my life. when in fact, i feel like an alien here a lot of the time, i feel.. strange. my existence once relied on the nowness of not knowing, i kept my cool in a life of uncertainty, i found peace in chaos.

sometimes i miss living in a tent. sometimes i wish i didn't have a home, a mattress, a place to store all of my stuff, and a bunch of stuff to store. but i take a deep breath and look around, and realize everything i have to be grateful for. living a 'normal' life isn't living a boring or meaningless one, it's just living a different one. the only constant in life is change, and i know it won't be this way forever. i never know exactly what direction my life will take [who does?] but i do know no matter which way it goes, i'm ready.

and also, i know there is always, always something to be grateful for. and that's why i want to start blogging more.. i want to share my gratitudes with anyone that will listen. that's why i started blogging in the first place. i have always kept a journal, kept a book of some sort recording keynote moments in my life, my biggest challenges and life's kindest gifts.. the people i've met, the lessons i've learned, and my reactions to them. well this is it now, these strands of writing posted publicly on the internet.

what's great about it is i don't have to carry it around. i just have to find access to the interwebs and voila! recorded and stored. cool huh? that's probably one of the biggest reasons i am grateful for the virtual world we have created, to have recordings of our lives not only to read back on and reflect, but also to share. what's the point of recording experiences if you never intend to share them?

one day when we're dead and gone our journals will be found and our histories uncovered. at least this way we can witness their uncoverings.. i always wonder if people would think i was crazy if they ever found my writings. this is a more likely way to find out.. ha. anyway, i learn a lot about myself if ever i have a chance to look back in time through the things i have written.. to see how far i have come, how much i grow and change as time passes, and interestingly, if i stick to my word. it seems a lot of the time i do manage to pull off all the crazy stuff i write down, and to fast forward and see that i have accomplished those things is a big motivator in the present.

five years.

five years ago todayish.. i stepped off a bus out in the canadian prairies and stuck out my thumb. i didn't have a plan, any idea where i'd end up, or any home to go back to. just a tent, a rucksack and a little company. i walked away from a full time job, a nicely furnished apartment.. a sane, regular life that i had become bored of. i felt useless, stuck.. like i could do better for myself. so i cashed out my stocks, sold all my stuff and took off to find where i belong.

and i took my time doing it. time was all i had really, and enough loot to float by for a while. i didn't bother with a phone. back then there wasn't plans like there are today, and a calling card was enough for when i came across a telephone. random use of computers at libraries and internet cafes was my connection to the world. each day was slow and steady. every moment counted, everything was so brand new. i was wide open for whatever the wide open country would bring to me.

eventually, it brought me right back to where i started, but in a different place in my mind. though i had an amazing time wandering and camping and working crazy cool temp jobs on either coast of the country, i had a greater appreciation for all that i had at home. 

it's usually about this time each year that i get restless, yearn for the roadlife once again. this year i got to move to a new place right at the beginning of may, with a friend.. we start a new journey together now, finding our way and the balance between adventure and stability. it's usually a lot harder to resist that urge to just ditch out with a rucksack. this time i'm so excited for every new day and all of the work [and play] lined up for the season that escaping is far out of the question. and it feels good.