Movin' Up-Island

Left Laurie and Jackie's at noon today and took a bus to Campbell River, about three hours up-island. Then I caught two ferries and came to Cortes Island, on the edge of Desolation Sound.

I am at a place called Hollyhock for a few days, a very cosmic retreat centre. Check out the website at www.hollyhock.ca



There are workshops going on here -- one is a yoga workshop, the other on improvisational sound and the other on Wise Women stuff. I am just hanging out, reading, watching the sunsets and lounging around in the hot-tub and beach (which are clothing-optional .. quite a nice feature of the place)

I will try to get up for morning yoga and meditation. I thought I'd have an internet holiday but there is high speed access even up here so, yes I will check my email. Wish I could upload pictures but the computer doesn't have a USB port to connect my camera. So I'll post a whole bunch when I get back to Vancouver.

It is really peaceful, restful and beautiful here. I'm glad I came.

On the farm

I am at my friends Jackie and Laurie's. They bought a 20 acre farm near Nanaimo and invited me to come over and see it. J&L are two of the funnest people I know, so I knew it would be a good time.

I also knew I'd be following them around talking to them as they worked. I lived at their place in Ottawa for a few months so was always having conversations with them as they drywalled the crawl space, unfroze the pipes, fixed the fence .. and the experience of doing that has now doubled, tripled and quadrupled. Following them around 20 acres of farm is an even bigger job.

This morning it was out to the pond to watch Laurie trying to save the pump and himself from sliding into the slippery muddy bank of the pump (he saved the pump from going in, but not himself). Their B&B is still a work in progress and will be opening next year. Even now it is truly lovely even if the bathrooms aren't entirely operational yet. But hell, it's a 20 acre farm with lots of bushes.

This morning I am off to Cortes Island to splurge on a few days at a place called Hollyhock Retreat. Hot tub with an ocean view, gorgeous vegetarian meals, yoga and meditation to start the morning .. check it out at www.hollyhock.ca

Other than feeling like I deserve an experience of pure luxury, I also want to check it out because this is the kind of place I want to start in Nova Scotia. So my trip is even tax deductible. Got a new journal with me, lots of ideas and it will be a wonderful time, I am sure.

Back to Vancouver on Sept 5, then on SEpt 10 I'm going to Seattle for a few days. It's been quite a summer and just a warmup for the Asia trip.

I'll post pictures when I get back to a fast internet connection.


Jackie (not Laurie) almost falling into the pond.

Om

So when things get busy, time to do yoga and meditate. My little friend is Yuli. Her father is Chris, who I worked with at CBC a long time ago. I was very happy to see that his life has improved greatly with the addition of his new partner Charlotte and Yuli, who is four. They even went all the way to China to get her. Chris was a confirmed bachelor for years and I just never thought I would ever see the day ...

Getting Yuli to meditate and do yoga is a pretty tall order. Getting her to sit still is even harder than getting me to sit still. But we did it, and as you can see by the look of concentration on her face, she was intensely into the experience (Yuli tends to be intensely into every experience ... nothing mellow about this little gal) She is also intensely fun.

Hippie Heaven part 2

Still having a great time here on Gabriola. Went for a long, long walk this morning, hung out at the beach about an hour's walk from Ken and Donna's. Meditated, did yoga, read ... what a wonderful way to spend a summer day.

Walked on the tideflats looking at rocks on the shore .. this island has some really unusual rock formations that are like caves in the rock. I walked out onto the tide flats until I realized I was sinking ... Splashed mud up and down my legs. It was a messy business but the mud felt really good squishing between my toes.

Also started shooting a kind of impressionistic video poem on the theme of starfish clinging to rocks waiting for the tide to come in. It takes a long time for the tide to come in, and starfish don't do much while they wait. So that was a really meditative experience too. Maybe I should design a course on video-based meditation (I am only half kidding about this. You learn all about movement and being still when you're behind a video camera, Pretty intense body work) Audio is so much more flexible .. physical discipline is required there too, but the positioning of the mike doesn't often have to be as precise a the positioning of the camera.

Then again, I've had times when I've needed to hold a mike as close to the waterline as I could without getting the mike wet. This DOES require great precision. Less risky if I put a condom (unlubricated, of course) on the mike. Unprotected miking can be a dangerous thing, so it's good practice to have one in the mike kit. Quick movements and losing your footing are even more dangerous as all of your gear and you go tumbling into the water. (hasn't happened yet, though)

Generally, that's pretty good all round advice .. move slowly, don't lose your footing and always be prepared!

Life in Hippie Heaven

I am on the road for a few days visiting my friends Ken and Donna on spectacular Gabriola Island. Gabriola Island is one of the gulf islands, between the mainland and Vancouver Island, where a lot of hippies went in the '70's and decided never to return to civilization.

Ken is working on starting a community radio station here. And wherever two or three are gathered in the name of community radio, there I also am.

I will have some great pictures to post once I get back to the mainland. Today I went into the village with Donna and met 5 Alpacas being led down the street. Sort of a little Alpaca parade (my mom told me a couple of years ago that she wanted an alpaca for a pet. I can see why. They are so cute, cute, cute. For those who have never met an Alpaca, they are mini llamas.

Ken is cleaning out the truck and we are about to set out to see the sights of the island. Tomorrow I'll go off hiking by myself, hang out at a few beaches, read and have a real nice time exploring. Friday we head back to Vancouver, stopping first at many Value Villages along the way and making a side trip to the (sadly) infamous Squamish Oil slick. (Ken is a fervent environmentalist so we're going on a fact finding mission). Hard stuff to look at. I have my video camera with me so I'm sure I'll do some documenting.

As far as what I'm going to do with it, I don't really know yet. Right now, I"m just getting used to the art of doing work with moving pictures so it won't be anything ambitious. Maybe I'll do my first video podcast.

Must go .. the tour bus is waiting. Pictures in a couple of days. Sooner if uploading from Ken's computer isn't a big deal ...

Tree Hugger

From the Top of the World

My friend Sara and I decided to take a trip to Whistler. "What do you want to go to Whistler for?" everybody was asking us. "It's just a ski town with no snow."

ya, but it's a ski lodge with no snow where the 2010 Olympics are going to be held. If nothing else, going there will mean we can say nonchalantly "oh yes, the last time I was in Whistler .."

So we went. The ski village is just that. A ski village. Pleasant enough, lots of restaurants. Had lunch. It was nice.

And then we figured that since we've come all this way, we had to go up the mountain. And up we went. Twenty-five minute ride in a covered gondola, and then up another ten minutes on an open ski lift.

And I've got to say I am so glad we did this. To be up there, close to the clouds, to the snowy mountain peaks was a sense of the eternal in one quick little trip. I didn't want to come back down.

Next time I do this, I am going to spend the whole day up there, 7100 feet in the clouds. There is a trail down to the next set of chairlifts that takes an hour and a half to walk down. And trails on the summit so you can walk around.

There is snow up there, little rivulets of water that are probably huge rivers in spring, little alpine flowers, no trees, lots of rock of all shades of grey and brown. Cold? You bet, considering I was wearing shorts and a skimpy top. The cold was energizing, and brisk and just made me feel totally alive.

What a trip. I'm so glad we did it. (travel tip -- if you go there and want to have lunch, don't eat in the village. Take the covered gondolas up to the first level and have lunch looking at one of the most spectacular views you'll see anywhere).

Makes me even more excited about my upcoming trip into the Himalayas.

Don't Drop Your Shoes!

On the way back down from the summit, I was finally brave enough to take out my camera and take some pictures.

Not that I'm afraid of heights, but I am afraid of dropping my camera. I chanced it. Camera arrived at the bottom intact.

I didn't chance losing my $80 Birkenstocks, though. So I put them in my knapsack on the way down. And in doing so, got to bring back some of the dusty mountain soil back with me.

What a fabulous trip. I have never ever been closer to the sky. (being in an airplane doesn't count).

Here's a view from the very top -- 7100 feet up. Glorious.


A View from the Summit

Living Organically

I've been experimenting with a new way of life. One that has been gradually evolving over the past few years, even though I didn't know it was happening.

It's about letting life evolve naturally, trusting my intuition, believing that things are going to get done without having to resort to timetables, to-do lists and day planners.

Back when I first started working totally independently, I would structure my day to begin at 9 am, stop for lunch precisely at 12 .. you get the idea. It was like I needed to punch my own time clock in order to stay on track.

A lot of this was born from the need to get things done and be "productive". How I measured productivity was by the number of words written, number of phone calls made, number of minutes of sound and documentaries composed. You get the idea. That's the way I used to define productivity.

Well, in the last couple of years in particular, I have not been able to define myself strictly by that criteria. My life had changed in a way that I was needing to define myself by other values. And ya, it was a struggle (and still is) to redefine myself in a way that doesn't rely on the merely quantifiable or definable to determine what has and hasn't been a successful day.

These days, I get up when I want to get up. I eat when I am hungry. I go for a walk when I want to. I play the piano. I go to the computer to send out emails when I want to and I "work" when I want to.

And do you know what? Things get done. The money has come in, I have food on the table and everything I need.

I still have a hard time trusting that following my own schedule and intuition will get me to a really good place. I want to fall back on that old tendency to run headfirst into my work with singleminded determination to achieve "results". The concept of "surrender" is something I still have a great deal of trouble with, yet when I run headlong into something, it has often turned out to be a wall (ouch). And I usually don't have a helmet on, either.

It's not that I haven't been "working" lately. Far from it -- in many ways, these past few years have been some of the hardest work of my life. Getting to the place where I am now has required great amounts of focus, trust and a firm idea of what I want. I don't even know if I even should use the term "work" .. it just doesn't seem to apply to the way I do things anymore.

And where am I right now? I am in a place and in a space I am really liking to be, doing things that really resonate with my soul. I am becoming the person I want to be, rather than the person I thought everybody else wanted. It's not been easy getting here, and I am sometimes (often, even now) really sad at what I've had to surrender up to be where I am now.

Yes, it's been hard work. But yet, the good things in my life haven't happened through any great design of my own ... I've often said to my friends that I've been living my life most recently on grace, luck and skill ... in that order. And much of the time it hasn't felt like my success has had very much to do with my skill, either. Things just evolved and took their own time. And no, I sure didn't often trust that I was headed in the right direction.

Still don't sometimes. I still want to fall back on my To-Do list and plan everything within a minute of next week. But the thing I've learned that is more powerful is that if we trust ourselves, trust the people around us, trust the universe, god, goddess or whoever, our To-Do list will take care of itself.

And there will be much more rich things when we review what we've accomplished than if we'd written everything done and done everything on the list in our usual singular, too-focussed compulsive way.

Because many of the best things that happen to us won't even appear on our list at all ...

Oh My God! It's the God Truck!

I remember saying to a friend before I came out here, "But is the God Truck still around?". And today I found it.

This one is probably more accurately called Son of God-Truck. Because it's not exactly the same. The old God-Truck was like a .. say, probably a three ton truck. The signs on it were made of wood and it was mounted on the bed of the truck like an A-frame. It looked like a cross between a sandwich board and an evangelistic little camper. You could take it into the rainforest and sleep in it when you're done proselytizing.

Son of God Truck looks like a camper van from one angle, and a monster truck from another (puny little monster truck, but the monster truck all the same). Stylistically the two are very similar -- if it's not the God Truck guy himself with an updated image, it might be his kid. To paraphrase a friend of mine .. "this is not indeed the God-Truck, but the God-Truckness cannot be denied".

The message has changed. No words about Jesus Christ coming to earth. Lots of political rambles, including the question "are you a sheeple?" Much railing about the evil media, evil oil, evil George Bush and a quote by (I forget his first name) Wolfewitz.

Guess these days he figures we don't have to talk directly about Satan ...

Good to see that quirky expression still exists in Vancouver. And that the spirit of the God-Truck is still alive and travellin' around.

Hangin' Out at the Beach

Just got back from spending a few days in the Okanagan Valley with my in-laws. The first picture is me, of course, about to dunk because the rock I was standing on was slippery.

The other picture is Crystal, Tyler and Kathy. Kathy is Barry's sister and Tyler and Crystal are her two kids (who aren't really kids anymore. Crystal is an ol' married lady now who just found out she's pregnant, which will make me a GREAT-aunt. I told her I wasn't old enough. And certainly her mother, who is only a few months older than me is not old enough to be a grandmother. Scary for those of us who aren't old enough, but real nice for Crystal and her husband Joel who are really excited).

I had a really wonderful time, possibly one of the nicest times I've ever had with all of them. As usual, Barry's mom and I were a (good) bad influence on each other, eating chocolate for breakfast, spending too much money, talking about all the relatives (especially Barry).

What was wonderful is how the whole Rueger clan have made a big effort to make sure I stick around. They have all gone out of their way to keep in touch and make sure I stay a member of the family, even if Barry and I aren't together anymore. Makes me feel really appreciated.

It was fun. And boy, was it hot. The water was wonderful. And so was the whole trip in general (saw a bald eagle on the way back home. Bonus. This is such gorgeous country.)

Ah, Vancouver Part 2

I always liked those sulphur piles. Don't know much about them or why they're there, but they always looked really dramatic against the blue of the water, the gray of the mountains and the blue of the sky.

I took this picture while crossing the Burrard Inlet on the Seabus. Nice little 12 minute trip from the City of Vancouver to North Vancouver. I've been doing a lot of exploring and re-exploring over the past week since I arrived. A lot of the places that I used to haunt are still around .. including the old apartment building where Barry and I lived for five years. It's only ten blocks or so from where I am staying. It's a very old building with a very large green space behind it, which is why I am surprised that it is still there. The owner could make a lot more money by tearing down and building up.

Still, for the sake of my memories I'm glad it's still there.

It is a very exciting city, though, and I am glad to be here even if it's only for the summer. I am finding more energy in myself than I have for a lot of years. I am now exactly twice the age I was when I moved out here the first time -- and I've got to say that of all the different incarnations that I have gone through, my time in Vancouver was the part of my life when I liked myself the most.

And a lot of that same energy has come back to me. It's like my younger self met me at the airport. She and I (younger Victoria and older Victoria) been having a really good time connecting with each other again.

I am also gradually reconnecting with friends of olde .. there are quite a few of them still around, so it will be really good to connect with them.

I've got all summer. That's real good.

Thank you for listening to me

It is now day 3 of the World Urban Forum. So far I've done 2 interviews with another one scheduled for later this afternoon.

The interviews have been good, but the most value is learning a lot more about all the issues I'll be covering with Green Planet Monitor. Specifically, I've been to several sessions about post-tsunami reconstruction and I think I have a better handle on what needs to be covered as part of this very huge story.

One of the big things I am learning has nothing to do with issues, though. It has more to do with how the first and the third world relate to each other. A phrase comes up continuously at the end of panel discussions -- "thank you for listening to me". Granted, first world people also usually end their talks with the obligatory thank you as well. But there's something different about the way it's phrased when .. for lack of a better term ... we Anglos say it.

For us, it's more a matter of formality. I get the impression that there's no real heart in it ... I'm sure it's meant on some level but it seems to be more like a habit.

The people I have heard from the third world have a gentler way of saying it. "Thank you for listening to me". As though they are surprised. There's also a real expression of gratitude .. like they have no expectation that being listened to is a right and are really happy for the chance.

From now on, I am going to try to say "thank you for listening to me" more often. Because, in this world, we are given a gift when people listen to us. And by saying thank you I am acknowledging the gift.

I also believe that being listened to is also a right .. but if we all said thank you to each other we wouldn't have to demand our rights. We would give AND receive the gratitude we all need.

Voiceless in Radioland

I have my voice back again. I got a really nasty bout of almost bronchitis and had to really concentrate on not losing my voice so I could speak at the National Campus and Community Radio Conference yesterday. Tough work, being at a radio conference and trying not to talk.

As most of you probably figured out, I didn't totally manage to be mute all week. But I did cut back on the use of my vocal chords and the two workshops and soundwalk I did yesterday went really well.

I am in Ottawa, by the way, in case you've lost track (I lose track of myself on a daily basis, so quite understandable if you do too).

I really like this city. If I was going to live anywhere in Ontario, this would be it. Having a really good time getting together with friends I haven't seen since I lived here five or six years ago. This city is so pretty. And so polite ... not much Windsorness or Hamilton-ness to it at all (though I do appreciate the realness of both those cities -- Ottawa has a lot of smoke and mirrors -- there is a lot of pretending done here)


There is an upside to living out of a backpack and not needing to be any place at any particular time.

Keep in touch, y'all ... FYI - I am back in Hamilton on Tuesday and Wednesday, heading Toronto way on Thursday, then flying out to Vancouver on Friday (the 16th). Yee haw.

Not a career option

It always helps to know where you stand when a chance for a job comes up .. do I apply or not? Would I be happy doing this kind of work?

Here is a no-brainer. I got an email from the "Defense Talent Network" inviting me (and likely hundreds of thousands of others) to apply for a job as a proposal writer. Ya, a job I could do, but is "Defense Talent Network" what I think it is.

Sure enough. How anybody managed to get me on a list to imvite to do work involving missile defence systems and ICBMs is a question .. obviously they don't know anything about the people they're spamming. Because if they did any research at all, they sure wouldn't ask ME.

fyi -- still on the road, heading up to Ottawa for a week. Back to Hamilton/T.O. on June 12, out to Vancouver on the 16th.

The Sound of One Train Colliding

It was an eventful trip. I caught the Northlander for South River this morning.

I was sitting in the first car behind the engines. This particular engineer blew his whistle a lot. Thinking that I could use a good train whistle in my sound collection, I took out my mike and stood in the vestibule between the engine and the first car.

I had been recording for about 3 minutes when the train came to a stop. In retrospect, I can remember bracing myself just a bit .. the train must have put its brakes on quickly, but it was still a very smooth stop. I kept recording until the train came to a complete stop and got the thumping of one car on another and (I think) some squealy brake sounds.

I went back to my seat. A minute or so later, one of the crew came on the P.A. and said we would be delayed because there had been an accident. That was a little spooky -- the only five minutes I recorded on the train would have captured the changing sounds of the train as the impact was happening.

I haven't listened back to the recording yet -- I am wondering if the engineer was blowing the whistle even more than usual in that space and time. I wonder if I can detect the moment of impact.

I am also wondering if I will be able to listen to that bit of recording and use it in sound pieces without conjuring up the associations of having been in an accident. I'm sure it will sound different to me than it will to anyone else listening .. I know the larger context and they don't. (Which is true of any recording we make -- for the person who created the recording, there are many different associations which wouldn't be there for other people.)

And then of course I went into journalistic mode, and got the story from the train crew. Seems that the person in the car is okay -- the train either clipped the front or the back of the car, sending it flipping over. But he's alive. Good thing his timing wasn't a split section off or he would have been right in the path of the train. And the story wouldn't have had a happy ending.

It was a long train trip. The crew was all shook up so in addition to waiting while the police investigated at the scene of the accident, we had to wait in Bracebridge while Ontario Northland brought in a new crew from North Bay. The new conductor told me that there is always a crew change as soon as possible after an accident. This is a good thing .. I can't imagine what it must be like to be an engineer and know you're going to hit a car. And not being able to do anything about it.

I'm glad everybody's alright.

The technological universe expands!

This is my first audioblog post. Had to try it out to see if it works. So if you want to hear my voice, just hit the Play arrow.

Now I have to think of creative audio I can post over the telephone. Maybe I'll read a poem next time.

The Birds

Hi friends -- I am in Toronto this week. Had a good though challenging time in Hamilton last week .. in the end, the good times outweighed the challenges.

This week I am in Toronto doing a guest Radio Art deejay stint at the Radio without Boundaries conference. This morning I was at my sister Di's place and went for a walk in High Park. A couple of people along the edge of the pond warned me to watch out for the red-winged blackbirds because they were dive-bombing people. The guess is that this is a critical day in nesting season and they are trying to warn us away. What they'd do is swoop down on people's heads, grazing their hair as they did it. One came after me but I was able to duck.

And speaking of ducks, I saw eight adorable little ducklings. It was a good day for birdwatching. I didn't have my camera with me so couldn't take any pictures but I will try to upload some visuals when I am in South River next week. The Blackfly festival has started .. oh joy. Oh well, it's still awfully nice up there, blackflies notwithstanding.

Packing and Unpacking

Well, time for the official "on the road" part of my blog to come back. I tell all my friends, this is the best way to keep up with where I'm going to be when. And I can also refer back to it myself when I find myself asking "so where am I going today?" Or even "where I am I right now?"

I have left Windsor. Might be going back .. they'd like me to teach 2 courses next January. Radio Broadcasting and also Sound Design. Which is cool -- sound design means I get to teach some composition, which is the whole artistic side of things. but that's not until January and there are a lot of miles to go before I get to that point.

I am at my friend Ellen's in Hamilton until Friday. Ellen is a poet and has also graciously allowed me to keep my stuff in her attic. So every time I come to visit Ellen, I get to visit my stuff.

And also unload more of my stuff that I just can't carry around. I'm taking off for Toronto, South River, Ottawa for brief visits and then for Vancouver for the next few months. I am living out of a backpack -- and the backpack is still too full.

So I'm trying to figure out what I really need, rather than what would just be nice. Do I really need to bring all of my long dresses ... sorry, the hats will get crushed ... two pair of jeans really are necessary because what if I fall in the water .. that cute little black dress can come with me because it's little and very versatile. A couple of pair of earrings don't take up much space and they dress things up. Three week supply of underwear is a little excessive. And I've recently started wearing makeup again .. I am starting to acquire enough face paint to be a supermodel. I'm in radio, I remind myself. This is not necessary.

There's an art to travelling light in this world .. I'm still getting the hang of it.

Write to me! Helps keep me company on the road!

The Second Cull

Once again begins the ritual which is becoming all too familiar.

Last August it was the garage sale, where I watched as accumulated possessions from 21 years of marriage went to new homes. You know, it wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. I look at it now as a redistribution of wealth. We gave away a lot of our stuff. And now it's a wonderful thing to go to friends' places and see bits of my past life in their house. It's not hard any more. It's comforting.

When it comes right down to it, I did keep a lot of stuff for that faroff day when I might have something resembling a home again. My favourite pieces of furniture are at my sister's place until I need them. And I kept about 30 boxes of my favourite things -- mostly books, CDs, my pottery, favourite dishes and kitchen things. And artworks of course.

I brought a carload of stuff down with me to Windsor. Now I'm going through all that stuff again (and the few bits that I've acquired) to see what I really want to keep and what I don't.

Through it all, I am always thinking about stuff .. what we need, what we don't. What we have that enhances our life and how much we have that bogs us down. And even though I enjoy what I have, I do think about how much easier it would be if I could just throw everything in a backpack and get on the plane.

Many times in my life, I have sold just about everything and done that. And just as many times, I've packed up more than I needed and moved it many more miles than it needed to go. Only to look at some of it and ask "why did I move that 2,000 miles"? (I'm travelling a bit lighter now, having sold the baby grand piano that moved all the way from Vancouver to Toronto with us in 1987. Beautiful instrument. I sold it in 1990 after deciding it was too heavy a load to carry. I miss it, but don't miss having to have it moved)

In material terms, I have lost a lot this past year. In moments when I am tempted to yell like Job, "what more do you want from me?" I wonder if I'm headed for the cloister to pray and make cheese or something. I don't think so .. I wouldn't fit in well in a religious setting ... Even the Moonies didn't want me because I was too independent a thinker. They didn't tell me to shut up in indoctrination classes but I could tell they wished I would.

Nonetheless, renunciation has its good points too. Makes it easier to let go. And it's easier to see things clearly without all that clutter.

See you in the cloister.

Delaurier House

Further to my previous post, this is what Delaurier House looks like. The front part isn't historically accurate -- Ed Delaurier, who died in the 1960's, loved plants. So he built a greenhouse on the front.

If you look at the house from the back, half of it is log cabin and the other half is board and batten. I think the front is all board and batten -- don't know why the back half is different than the front.

My grandmother's books say that it was also an inn at one point. Looked awfully small to me to be an inn, but I guess houses were smaller in those days. The family also ran a tavern and general store at the turn of the 20th century next to the house pictured above.

My great grandfather Fred Delaurier also ran a saloon in Leamington 'round about the same time. My aunt says that when my grandfather died, my grandmother gathered the whole family and made them uncork and drain every bottle of whisky. Except for one bottle which was saved for the christening of the first grandson.

Hmm.. lots of stories there ...

Looking for Grandmere et Grandpere Delaurier

On Easter Monday, Lori (my sister), Elizabeth and Emily (my nieces) and I went to Point Pelee. I had told Emily and Elizabeth that there was a museum at the Point which was the original home of our great-great-great-great (?) grandparents, John Baptiste Delaurier and his wife Julia Hazel Delaurier.

I had not been there in many, many years. I can remember going there with my grandmother, Madeline Delaurier Wallace, to visit her great uncle Ed. I was six, great-great (?) Uncle Ed looked like he was 251. I can remember being just a little spooked by the place.

My grandmother had said in her memoirs that she tried to get Uncle Ed to leave the house to Park (as in Point Pelee National Park) when he was alive. No go, Uncle Ed said. Well, somebody changed their mind because the home is now a museum.

And it's still spooky. The museum wasn't open, but we looked in the windows. The house was as I remembered it -- really dark. It's still dark, only now they have mannequins of three of the Delaurier family in the living room. One is sitting on a rocking chair with a fiddle on his knee. The other has a sheet over him and is hunched over the stove (they were fishermen by trade, so he probably just got in from the Lake). And right beside the window, there was a person in bed.

Emily and Elizabeth though it was, on one hand, pretty scary. On the other hand, to have a museum named after someone from your family, and have other people come see it, is pretty neat.

Our trip inspired me to do some digging, to remind myself who all these people were. My grandmother has written many volumes, all typewritten, of the history of the area. Our own family tree has been well documented but I didn't remember much of it. Here's what I found out:

The Delaurier homestead was built in 1839, by John Baptiste Delaurier (it is interesting that all the history books refer to him as John, rather than Jean)
He and Julia had ten children. The girls were sent away to be educated in a convent in Amherstburg.
My great-great grandfather was their youngest son Gilbert. He moved to Leamington and had two wives. Seventeen children altogether. Most of them moved back to the U.S.
My great-grandfather, Fred, stayed in Leamington and was a fisherman. He married Euphemia Foster. My grandmother was their daughter, Madeline Delaurier Wallace.

I read an interview in the library that was done with my grandmother about ten years before she died. She says they didn't get out to the Point much because Leamington was ten miles away and you didn't go that far in those days.

I'm glad to be reading the information that my grandmother worked so hard putting together for forty years of her life. And it's been really good to be back here where our roots run so deep -- every branch of our family has been in this county since 1830.

In a sense, it's home even if I don't plan to put down any more roots here myself .. I guess I don't have to because my roots are already here.

Inauspicious Addresses

Well, things in the clans Fenner/White are still sad, but we're starting to get our senses of humour back .. at least a little bit.

I am consoling myself by thinking about Nova Scotia and getting back there again and opening up my arts retreat/media institute. And giving Cindy a job working with me. Tony's studying Library Science and we're going to need a media librarian too. And we're going to raise chickens and puppies. And a horse or two. (No rabbits, though. They're pretty dumb. So are chickens but eggs are good.)

Got it all figured out how we're going to have a happy future. So I've been doing what I usually do every day, which is combing www.mls.ca (the online real estate site). There are some funny things to be found there.

Like, how's "0 Victory Road" for an address?

Don't think I'll move there. Or Lake Despair either (actually that's one in Northern Ontario -- Barry and I encountered that one when we were in a big 25 foot yellow Ryder truck with all of our possessions in the back. Right about the time we were convinced we were lost in the bush. That was the same trip we went 20 miles offroad in Manitoba, also in our 25 foot big yellow truck, because somebody told us there were buffalo back there.)

Ah, the sadness of life is oft offset by the absurdity ...

Our Baby From the Sea - in Memorium

As quickly he came into our lives, he left us.

Less than a month ago, my sister Cindy phoned from Nova Scotia to say that she and her partner Tony were having a baby. Surprised, yes we were. So were they. And as initial shock turned into happy anticipation, she came home to Ontario to have the baby here.

He didn't even breathe his first breath. His name is William Adam Fenner White. He was born and died early in the morning on April 6, 2006. A fully formed, beautiful little boy.

Before now, I had no idea how intensely someone who isn't even in this world can grip a heart so tightly. And to think of those tiny fingers that will never grip his mother's hand, or mine either for that matter .. is too heartbreaking for words.

Goodbye, sweet Adam. The baby I knew and didn't know ...


****************************

A couple of days later, after the shock has dulled .. but only a bit. A lot of going back and forth .. Tony was in Nova Scotia. He's now here. The baby will be buried at Bow's Cemetery on the shore of Eagle Lake. We can see the cemetery from across the lake.

The best I can do at time like this is write. So I wrote this for Adam

You were conceived of salt water
ripening Annapolis shiny red apples,
from fertile farmland
stretching to the bay,
Of lobster claws and sea shells,
seaweed and fine sand

The rough salt breeze
absorbed into your mother's skin
Your mother danced on the beach
Your father watched, he knows.
he understands the breath of the sea.

You were born not there, not on the ocean.
You were born in your mother's water-world,
the scent of pine trees,
no smell of salt ..
rather, the fresh water aroma of algae and hidden trout
a tiny protected lake
ever filling up from eternal underground springs

Sweet baby,
We will sing you to sleep on the shore.

We will bring you both of your worlds
two worlds that live in your bones, your eyes, your feet

Here by this fresh water shore,
we will bring you scallop shells,
we will pour salt sea water
mixed with salt water tears
onto your tiny place
protected by the rock and shield.
You are home here.

Sweet Adam,
the scent of the pine trees
travels on the winds
all the way to your other home
To the tall pine tree outside your grandfather's house.

and the Maritime breath
of your grandparents, cousins,
aunts and uncles
will travel on the wind to the place you sleep

Sleep gently, sleep peacefully
In the arms of our love
In the arms of the earth

Our baby from the sea, our baby of the lake.



Cyndy and Tony say goodbye ..

Moths to Flames

This from my friend Roxanne --

"a writer is a device for turning alcohol into words."

How true -- some days more than others. Reminds me of yet another quote from my friends Sarah and Kevin in the upcoming podcast, upon reflecting that most of their songs contain references to alcohol, because they say "alcohol contains the best metaphors". It's like moth to the flame, they say, and the piper always needs to be paid.

Maybe I like these ideas because I want to identify with Dorothy Parker.

Curious.

Gathering No Moss

Well, time to move on again. It's been a very good winter .. got some new things under my belt -- teaching university, modelling for art classes (which I'm almost out the door to do today), some new radio programs and sound pieces, lots of reading, lots of blogging, connecting with old friends ... it's been a full few months.

And now I'm starting to pack up and move out of Windsor ... boxing up things to take back to store at my friend Ellen's place in Hamilton. I'll be back and forth a few times in April and May. Come mid-June I'll be going out to housesit for my friends Hildi and Peter in Vancouver.

Two months on the Pacific coast ... those glorious mountains and salt sea breezes off of English Bay. Takes me back to my mid-twenties, arriving with practically no money and waiting and waiting and waiting for my UI cheques. And every day walking to the UI office to see if my money has arrived, frustrated, yet looking up at those mountains and saying to myself, thank god I'm here.

And ya, it's bound to hurt that this is where Barry lived the first part of our lives together. But I'd been there for a while before I met him, and there was a me out there that was not him. There have been very few places since where I can honestly say I've experienced my separate self and been so happy with her.

And I've got lots of friends to visit in really wonderful places all up and down the coast. And then in the fall, over to India, Sri Lanka and Thailand for an undetermined amount of time. I don't have to be anywhere at any particular time.

You know, my life would be darn near perfect right now if my heart wasn't still so sore. You think you're getting over it, and then it comes back to land another punch in the gut yet one more time.

To put it in some kind of perspective -- my friends Sarah and Kevin have this song that Kevin wrote (I'm working on a podcast right now with a conversation with them and five of their really great songs ... the CD will be out in the summer.)

The chorus of this song goes:

And the preacher is preaching salvation
And the judge and the hangman agree
But the point of this whole sad narration
Is the pain that will set us all free

And then there's the Epilogue, which sums it all up

And the preacher is playing piano
And the hangman is drinking the gin
And the judge is in bed with a barmaid named Fred
Too busy to save us from sin

So ultimately I guess that means we can experience our pain without fear of judgement ... because everybody's all wrapped in their own lives. There's something good in that.

You really have to hear the whole song, and all the others. Great album. (I'll let you know when the podcast is posted) Inspires me to start writing songs again too. I'll have a piano all summer in Vancouver. It really is all good.

Even the painful stuff -- it will set us all free.

Happy Birthday Dad

Seventy three years. He was born in 1934. Thankfully, too late to get shipped off to World War 2 -- he was too young. And early enough to enjoy the southern Ontario booming economy -- after many long years of a secure job (balanced with running a 124 acre farm), both he and my mom have a good pension and have a wonderful life living on the shores of Eagle Lake near South River, Ontario.

On April 9th, mom and dad .. Helen 'n Bill .. will be celebrating their 51st wedding anniversary. There are five of us in the next generation .. Marianne, Dianne, me, Lori and Cindy (yup, five girls). Two grandchildren so far, Emily and Elizabeth (yup, two more girls) and another one on the way the end of June (surprise!)-- THIS JUST IN -- IT'S NOT THE END OF JUNE. IT'S THE END OF APRIL.

One night, Barry and I were having a bottle of wine with my mom looking out over the lake late at night in the old cottage (the one where they spent summers before the new house was built). And I asked my mom what attracted her to him way back when. And what has kept them together all these years.

"Because a nicer man never walked the face of the earth" was her response. Amen to that.

The Next Digital Frontier - part 1

I went out and bought an MP3 player yesterday. I figured I'd better get some personal experience with this method of content delivery to expand my knowledge of podcast and internet audio delivery.

I am discovering a whole new world in the process. And yes, I am looking/listening to my work much differently just in the 24 hours that I've owned this little gadget. It's a whole new world out there. There's a lot I could say about the medium being the message and how I need to change the way I work to adapt to the new universe. But let's start with the practicalities and discuss buying an MP3 player.

First discoveries: There are so many players available with so many features that it's hard to choose. And there's a big difference in models, probably based on price point, I would guess. First of all, I chose the RCA Lyra because it had a line-in jack. Which I hoped was compatible with a condenser mike (they sometimes are, but not always, worth a try) so I could hopefully use it as a recording device too. Well, no, got it home and found out that the line in jack is not a standard line in jack. So it will only work with the cable they provide. (Which works fine for some applications, but what happens if you lose the special little cable?) I was thinking about keeping it anyway, but I figure it's not a good thing that it seized up many times and I needed to remove the battery to reset it. Nope, not good.

And no manual. I am starting to make a lot of purchasing decisions based on whether or not there's a manual included. In this case, I had to go to a website, use up a whole bunch of paper and ink to print it out, and now I have a manual I don't need.

So I took it back, and got an IRiver. Which I like. I had to make the difficult choice between a model without a radio, but which had a line-in jack (right size this time). They didn't have a model with both. Since I already have a bunch of recording devices I chose the 1 GB T10 Model.

I'm glad I exchanged the Lyra for the IRiver. The difference in sound quality is truly amazing. Truly a pleasure to listen to. And it came with a manual. And it's heftier and sportier -- a pretty blue and it comes with handy things like an armband so you can wear it. You can also look at photos on it (if you really need to look at a postage-stamp sized picture).

Downside -- no line-in. I really wanted that line-in. And it is so tiny that the controls are hard to work with adult sized hands. But that's true of all of them. Cramped hand muscles are the price we pay for the tiny size of the thing. And it was about $40 more than the Lyra, but worth it for the improved quality.

Oh, the other downside. IRiver is solidly in bed with Microsoft, so the only software that will synch to it is Windows Media Player. More about software tomorrow after I accept the reality that WMP is what it's going to be -- I wouldn't mind so much if the software was as easy to use as the software that came with the Lyra. And WMP has a lot of built in features that constantly link to the internet to sell me music I don't want. It's very intrusive.

More about that tomorrow ...

Oh heck, here's one more

Victoria and Arleen Swimming with Frogs 

I've been going through my pictures and I just can't quit. This is another cool place at Au Grand Bois -- known as "The Spa" -- bathing suits optional (why bother, eh?).

Of Coffee and Compromises

Breakfast at Au Grand Bois 

Further to my post yesterday about the beauties of Au Grand Bois, here is another favourite story of mine. (By the way, the picture above is Doug, Darren and Lorne waiting for their morning coffee)

Arleen and Lenny, who are the stewards ("owners", for those of you who prefer the more familiar Western capitalistic jargon) of Au Grand Bois, came to me with a really funny dilemma after we'd all been camping there for a day. The problem was coffee. Serious problem.

Arleen and Lenny are not coffee drinkers. Arleen had made the choice to go with Fair Trade coffee. I drink fair trade coffee almost all the time myself, so this was a decision I supported wholeheartedly (wish Tim Hortons would pay more attention to this issue).

So, about a day into our week, Arleen was running out of coffee. She was absolutely astounded at the amount of coffee we were going through. Not only that, the amount of talk about coffee was something else she had never experienced.

So, what to do .. she had only budgeted for two cups a day per person. No, no, no, this would not do ... these are media people .. and one thing you don't do is limit the supply of coffee to a media person. I mean, how are we going to meet deadline? And even out here in the bush, we had deadlines to meet.

Arleen's first choice was to have me encourage all of us to drink less coffee. Not just for economic reasons, but because she sincerely believes that caffeine is an addiction that we can all kick with a little loving encouragement. Not gonna happen, Arleen. They'll shoot me at dawn. After they've had their coffee, that is.

Or she could buy more Fair Trade coffee and send the bill to us. But I was the organizer and budget-keeper, so I made the typical decision which is made in the hard-hearted North American economy. No extra financial cost.

My compromise -- we will stay in integrity for the morning, I told Arleen, and drink Fair Trade Coffee. I would go out and buy the ethically-compromised coffee for the afternoon. At least we can start the day with a sincere effort to support the impoverished coffee growers of the world.

I reassured her that I would take full moral responsibility for the decision. So to mitigate my on-going guilt about my decision having possibly harmed the Workers of the World, here's a word to all of you -- think of the farmers who grow your coffee. Buy Fair Trade.

And it has the added benefit of being shade-grown, which means they aren't clear cutting the forest to build mono-cropped plantations of coffee plants (trees? Can't remember if coffee is a tree or a shrub). And it's organically grown, so no nasty chemicals. And just about all the Fair Trade coffee I've had has been wonderfully good.

Yes, better than Tim Horton's. Even if it doesn't come with a Roll Up the Rim cup. That new car would just cause more pollution anyway. (note to my puzzled American friends -- you gotta be Canadian to understand that reference).

Reconnecting

Au Grand Bois in the morning 

Had a wonderful day yesterday full of connections from my recent and not-so recent past.

My first connection was a long phone call with Lenny and Arleen Proust, of Au Grand Bois in the Pontiac Region of Quebec (on the Quebec side of the Ottawa River close to Ottawa). I love the Pontiac -- it's where we had the audio art camp in 2002, and it was a fabulous time. They own 545 acres of woods - owning that much pristine land is pretty close to heaven on earth these days.

Lenny and Arleen used to run a children's camp until they decided they just didn't have the energy for 600 kids every summer anymore. Now they are looking for a new purpose, and they are thinking that they want to develop an eco-village. Which is a nother way of saying sustainable living, cohousing, people living together gently upon this earth. I like the term Intentional Community. I think that sums it up nicely. With 545 acres, there's a lot of room to spread out.

In recent years, I have thought many times that living in community is the way I want to live my life. It makes so much more sense from a lot of perspectives -- economically, socially, environmentally .. after all, we humans are pack animals. I don't think we were intended to live in our own little cages in high rise buildings made of concrete. Even if we do have a balcony garden and a great view.

Whether it's at Au Grand Bois, or in Nova Scotia or wherever, there's something calling out to me.

Oh, I need to get back to the woods ...

Waiting for the Ships

I don't see one yet ... 

The St. Lawrence Seaway opened this week. Ursalla and I took a long snowy walk this morning to see if we could spot our first freighter. Having driven a long way down the seaway, all the way to Riviere de Loup, I'm liking this big bit of water even more. I've always wanted to hop on a freighter and go all the way from the Gulf all the way to the Lakehead.

No boats today, but I know they're down there somewhere. My sister Lori called me from the middle of the Ambassador Bridge yesterday to tell me she'd seen her first one. I'll just have to go for more walks.

The riverfront is one of the best things about being in Windsor. I used to have an apartment right across from Dieppe Park where the Hilton Hotel now stands. It was a really colourful place -- home not just to me, but also a whole bunch of drug dealers, hookers and cockroaches of many shapes and sizes. At 20, I wanted to live where life was really happening, you know, not in some comfortable suburban building where everything is so ordinary. I needed to gather material to be a real writer. I needed to get down there in the gutters of humanity and experience that life was more than watching the soybeans shrivel up and turn brown in the bucolic farmland of Essex County. Yes, there are many stories from my days in the Alvin Apartments.

Je digress .. my point was going to be that I had a fabulous view of the river in that apartment. Best view in the city for $115 a month (lots of onshore entertainment in the apartment building too for no extra charge).

Back to the boats -- focus on the main story, Vic.

The ships were so close you could read the names on the bow. Windsor is the only place I've lived where you get to see a steady parade of ships going somewhere. In Vancouver, they sat in the Harbour. In Hamilton, only a small percentage of the traffic even entered the harbour. I've always felt energized by going places. If I can't go, I still get a real kick out of watching trains, boats and places even if I'm not on them.

And back in those days, I could look at a Canada Steamship Lines boat (which is just about all of them these days) without going, yuck, Paul Martin. Whoops. I forgot. He sold them to his sons when he became Prime Minister. Blind trust and all that.

I'm getting a tad cynical here. Back to thinking about pure pleasure, about sitting on a blanket next to the river reading a book, and seeing if I can decipher what country the ship is from.

I'm probably shipping out from Windsor myself the beginning of June. So I'm hoping we'll have a sunny May and that the trees leaf out real fast. That's another nice thing about Windsor, it's summer down here before the leaves have barely budded in Ottawa.

I'm going to enjoy the last couple of months here.

Car-free living

Wow, those cognitive distortion busting and anxiety management lessons I've spent so much time on are really coming in handy this morning.

I'm just laughing. There's nothing else to do about it (except for political action, more on that later). My insurance broker got back to me and told me they would insure me but would raise my rate from $77 a month to $425 a month.

I laughed at my broker when she told me. And laughed and laughed. The idea that I would give an insurance company $425 a month when I don't have to is just absurd. And said, I guess I'm going to be living in the city then and bike and bus and take cabs and rent cars when I want to get out of town. And then I gave her a lecture on how not having a car was going to keep us alive longer anyway. And how the insurance companies wouldn't be able to get away with this if more of us decided to give up our cars.

I was nice to her, though. Really I was. It's important to depersonalize these things a lot of the time.

And then I told her that, since I won't be driving anywhere I'll have lots of time to lobby for public auto insurance.

I'm just glad I have the choice in this.

The larger picture does bother me, though. My insurance agent is in South River, an area not known for availability of public transit. And an area where many, many people are barely scraping by just to support their families. One accident (and a minor one at that) has the potential to impoverish a family.

When visiting South River, I have heard many people refer to South River as the "welfare capital of the north". Well, hell if people can't afford to go to work, what choice do they have? I know, this isn't a problem that's limited to South River -- I am only using them as an example. And I'm not picking on my insurance agent because their only control over this is to go into another line of work .. But this was also heavy Mike Harris/Ernie Eves territory, and we know that neither Harris or Eves really cared all that much about the plight of the welfare mother who can't get auto insurance. And somebody voted them in. So in that sense all the South Rivers in the province and the people who voted for them are responsible.

As for me, I am fortunate that I have the choice. Maybe I'll move to Halifax and just rent a car every now and again to get out to the shore. Or maybe I'll move to Ottawa which is a cool city with great bike paths. I have options .. if I do decide to go further with this, it will be mostly for the benefit of those people who don't.

And of course to blow off some steam in a socially productive way.

Nationalize the Buggers!

I haven't done a political rant in a long time. So please indulge me.

I've been looking at my various options, figuring out where I want to live for the next little while. Still want to go to Nova Scotia and live a life of rural bliss. I may end up in the city, which I'm not totally adverse to as long as it's a liveable city. Rural Nova Scotia would be my first choice.

Here's the obstacle -- I schmucked my car in December. My fault, I admit it. But nobody was hurt (except the insurance company's bottom line, that is) The other woman's car only had a paint smear on her pretty white SUV. My passenger doors got punched in (the picture in on a previous blog entry here). They wrote me a cheque and said "your first accident won't have that big an effect".

Well, I'm not so sure. My own insurance company isn't even getting back to me. And on-line quotes are ranging anywhere from $2200 a year to $5700.

Well, I will be damned if I am going to allow myself to be held hostage to these thieves. One accident. And not even a big one. Come on.

On the other hand, this hands me an opportunity to put into practice one of my beliefs -- that if more people found alternative ways of living, like going car-free, we would have a cleaner, more sustainable environment. And a car is also a very expensive habit, both in terms of money and our health (so much healthier to be biking and walking)

And if more of us said "No, that's fuck YOU" to our insurance companies and said, hey, we can live without you, maybe they couldn't continue these extortionate rates.

Well, that felt better. I'm now going to walk the dog .. it's a beautiful day. And then I'm going to call my MPP to ask "hey, time to put public auto insurance back on the table".. (no high hopes here .. my MPP is an NDP, but the NDP did wuss out on public insurance when they were in government, so ...) But at the very least, taking political action does make me feel less powerless.

oh, ya, another thing. The accident will come off my record in ten years. But then they'll continue to be able to charge exhorbitant rates because I haven't had insurance for ten years. Under the current system I can see no immediate way to win this one. So I'm going to have to look long term and do some political action if I want to see any changes.

The State of the Airwaves

This is a repost of a message I put on Airdaily, the listserve of the Association for (of?) Independents in Radio in the States. This is a good read for anybody who is interested in radio, music and/or cultural nationalism.

******************************************

Hey folks -- if you're interested in finding out how commercial radio is faring in Canada, the latest submission by the Canadian Association of Broadcasters is a fascinating read.

"That Was Then .. This is Now" can be found here.

Even if you're not specifically interested in Canadian broadcasting, the summary of how all the different kinds of audio delivery are affecting commercial radio can be applied to other national contexts as well.

In terms of the language of this report, you will find a lot of similarities to the position and tone of the NAB (National Association of Broadcasters, the lobby group for the commercial stations in the States). I am very thankful that up here in Canada, the CAB and commercial radio does not have a lock on the airwaves like they do in the US. They're still trying, though.

The CAB's position papers always start with the premise "the sky is falling". And if it's not already falling, well then, it's about to fall. And of course they resist any kind of regulation .. unless of course it's to their advantage and then hey, save us Big Mommy Government.

Fascinating reading, even if the whiny tone is real annoying ...

Vive la Canadienne,
Victoria

Soft Focus

Self Portrait 

Some would say this isn't focussed clearly but I really like this picture ...

Lots of snow

Snowy days in South River 

This is my dad. My mom took this picture to try to entice us to come up to visit them. It's the snowiest year since they moved up there in 1992.

I love snow and snowmobiling, so this is a good idea. They've got a nice place that's almost like a resort up there on the lake and it's really beautiful. And I can let the dog off the leash and she really likes that too.

Hope it doesn't get mild before I get up there.

Looking Upriver 

Dog and Ice Floes 

Becoming an Eye Person

Learning to See 

For years I have resisted working with visual images. I've always believed that it is too optimistic to think we can do everything well. I've been hesitant about venturing outside of audio expression because if I spend time on the pictures, will I still be able to do audio just as well?

I've had a change of heart ... I figure I've been doing audio now for over 20 years, so if I spend a little time learning something else, it won't detract from my sound work.

And so last summer I went out and bought a video camera. And yesterday I got a cute little Canon still digital camera. It's probably very simple by professional standards but to me it has gazillions of features and makes me ask "where do I start?"

And I answer, like I would tell anybody asking me how to get started in audio, you just go out there and do it. You learn by doing.

That's what I did today. I took pictures of tree bark (as you can see above), shards of ice piling up on each other, some of the historic buildings in Olde Sandwich Towne.

I even have a little 30 second video mode on my still camera and was able to get a sheet of ice on the river scraping the edges of another sheet of ice. The sound was also remarkable ... I am inspired to go down there again and get some more ice floe images.

It's a whole new experience -- I know what kinds of sounds I am drawn to because of all the years I've spent sound gathering. I've always used my microphone to try to hear beyond the obvious. To really work my eyes and see beyond the obvious is the next step.

And yes, there is a film in the works. It will likely take me about five years but it is happening. It's a theme I started working on back in 1999 as an audio documentary. The images are so stunning and startling that to do it in sound alone will only tell part of the story.

That, I think, is an important idea -- if you don't need pictures, don't use them. If you do, it doesn't honour the story to tell it halfway by leaving them out.

It's energizing to be exploring new ways of telling the story ... however it wants to be told.

Cheering on the Team

Do they look like me? 

These are my two adorable nieces Emily (the little one) and Elizabeth (the almost-a-teenager one).

My brother in law Mikey sent this picture and a note:

"In anticipation of the gold medal for hockey later today, my girls are pumped!!"

Maybe next year we'll get Elizabeth and Emily on the ice!

Go Canadian women, big and little!

The Language of Aggression

Oh no. I'm a warmonger.

After my last post about militarism and peaceful protest, this is a really ironic thing that I'm writing about.

For the past few weeks I have often caught myself using militaristic language. When I'm in a situation requiring me to be large and in charge, my language changes. Examples of recent turns of phrase that I've used -- "I'll just blow it out of the water", "subtle as a hand grenade", "pinging off problems one by one like ducks in a shooting gallery".

Hardly peacemaking and gentle words. I am trying to notice when I do this because it does reflect when I'm preparing to go to battle over something. They're very little battles, mind you. But my language shows when I am in a "power over" , rather than a "power with" mindset (these are phrases used by Starhawk , who is a really wonderful witch (pardon me, that's "Wiccan") from California who does really great social change work)

Fascinating. Good example of personal change through linguistic awareness. Goes to show how our mind affects our words and our words affect our mind ..

Why I'm Holding an Anti-War Sign

What good does it do? 


I went to a vigil a couple of nights ago. That's the soft word for a protest.

I don't do this an awful lot. My last public demonstration was in the volatile days of the Mike Harris Reformatories. (The Hamilton Protest was amazing .. the best in the province).

Partly my participation was about the need to do something, anything .. because the road ahead looked very scary (it was). And I had also hoped that large numbers of people would send a message that the the government had to listen to. (They didn't -- they just dismissed us as saying we were all little bad union members who were the puppets of our big bad union bosses.)

So, okay, back to Friday night and the picture above. And what were we protesting. Or vigilling. What we were doing. I didn't know. There was a military conference happening inside the Windsor Armouries. So we were there.

Now, I'm not usually a fuzzy thinker about these things and there I was anyway. Even though I wasn't clear on the agenda -- was it an anti-war conference? Or one of those funny ones where everybody says they're against war but then start talking about how we can stop war by giving more money to our armed forces and finally buy those new helicopters or whatever the army wants today ...

I didn't know. And I didn't spend the time to find out. Because, in the end, it wasn't about the conference and its agenda. It's about our agenda. And I think the the reasons why I went say a lot about my beliefs about why we go to demonstrations, and their value.

See, what happened was this -- Ann, a friend who organized the vigil, felt really strongly that there needed to be a presence at this event. She was getting a really lukewarm reception from others and whether or not we should be there. The reason why I went was because the thought of her standing outside in the snow, one person with a picket sign was brave. And committed. (And kinda sad too). So I went to stand with her.

I needn't have worried -- twelve other people came through. Maybe because they (unlike me) understood the agenda of the conference and felt the need to be there. or maybe, like me, they were there to support Ann. Or both.

I don't think it matters. Do the people we are trying to reach really care that we are standing out there with our "no war" signs and candles? Probably not. What protesting, or vigilling, or demonstrating, or whatever you want to call it, does is give us space to be with each other. And to support each other in the struggle.

Maybe we are just small voices calling out in the wilderness. But remember -- it's an old premise of the social empowerment movement that our voices get stronger when we put them all together. And being with people working together for a common goal helps make it easier when we get up in the morning all by ourselves and work yet another day for the good of the world and its inhabitants. The people around us who support us make it possible for us to keep on going, especially when we are tempted to say what the point?

So that's why I was carrying an anti-war sign. Even if I wasn't clear about what was going on at the conference itself.

(By the way, the picture above is me, and my friends Shawn Hupka and Mary Atkinson.)

Happy Valentine's Day everybody -- for those of you without sweeties out there, your best sweetie is yourself anyway. Go buy yourself some chocolates. Or whatever you want to do to show yourself how much in love you are with the person you are.

A Passage to India

I have been burying my nose in travel books and web sites trying to get a handle on my itinerary. My good buddy, Dave Kattenburg of Earth Chronicle Productions has just scored another grant. We've worked together lots of times before and last fall he asked me if I wanted to be part of his project. This time, he said, he'd really like me to do some of the international travel to gather material. In the past, it's been me doing a lot of the domestically focussed research and he's the one who's gone overseas.

I told him I thought I'd like to go to Asia. Part of the reason is that India has just now opened up the airwaves and I really want to meet some people who are trying to put community radio stations on the air. Also, because there are a lot of good environmental stories, especially in the Himalayas.

We just got the word last week that the application was successful. So it looks like I am going. Not until the fall -- my teaching gig isn't up until the end of April, and that's when the hot, hot summer starts in Southeast Asia. Followed by the monsoons. So it will likely be September or October before I shove off.

This will be a much different than any other experience I've had before. I've been to England alone, Holland alone, out to BC, to many of the States -- I think I am a more seasoned traveller than some. Anybody who has ever travelled to India has told me that none of the rules of the rest of the world apply there. They often invoke words like "overwhelming" and "chaotic".

While checking out hotel prices, I've noticed a few selling points that are unusual for North America -- cold AND hot running water, bacteria-free filtered water, a choice of air conditioned and air cooled rooms .. have to check out what the difference is.

I have also been told that despite the difficult conditions, there is also a vitality, energy and spiritual base that we just can't match here in North America. I have been told that there are 330,000 Hindu gods and goddesses. Even though India is a big country, that's still a lot of gods and goddesses per square mile.

And so my research continues. I have to start lining up some stories before I know for sure where and when I'm going. I hope to do some stories in Sri Lanka and Thailand too.

Some of this will also depend on what I have going on over here. If I don't have much happening, maybe I'll end up staying for a few months. I can write and edit just as easily from over there as I can from here.

Ah, yes, this nomadic lifestyle has it charms and its challenges. Overall, it's very cool.

It could have been much worse

Okay, so waking up to Stephen Harper's smiling face isn't exactly my idea of a great way to start the day.

But hey, I can live with it and hope that the next couple of years gives Canada a really good look at what Reform/Conservatism/Republicanism could do for this country (as in DESTROY it). Sure, there's always the possibility that Mr. Grumpypants is going to become Mr. Happyface until he gets his majority and then the moral majority will settle in forever. But we do have to hang to every shred of hope we can find in the political landscape, at least for the time being.

Myself, I don't see how we could have returned the Liberals for yet another dysfunctional minority government. And we really didn't have anybody else waiting in the wings to replace them, did we? (I refuse to call them Conservatives. They're still the Reform Party.)

And, on the really positive side, it is wonderful to see all the little orange markers on the Globe and Mail website showing where the NDP got in -- even though the popular vote didn't increase for the NDP, the number of seats did.

And yay Hamilton for going orange again. It was especially fine to see labour guy Wayne Marston stomp Tony Valeri into the industrial dirt of Hamilton East. (My bets are that Sheila Copps was in there somewhere helping Marston. after what Valeri did to her, I hope she got her revenge). And my riding in Windsor West returned a solid NDP candidate, as well as Joe Comartin in Windsor/Tecumseh(I especially like Joe because he let me sublet his apartment in Ottawa a few years back).

All in all, a very good day. I spent election day being a Deputy Returning Officer for a poll in Windsor West that most had people in it from "The Projects" (aka, social assistance housing), which is not usually known for high voter turnout. Our poll, poll 56, had one of the highest voter turnouts in the area. We had a lot of new voter registrations, especially from new Canadians. This is a very good thing.

I also got to know the place where I'm living a lot better. My poll clerk, Carol, knows a lot of people from the projects because she lives over by Glengarry, which is one of the other project zones in Windsor. And a lot of her former neighbours now live in our poll.

I found out a lot of interesting stuff about our neighbourhood, like:

- there are about 160 prisoners in the Windsor jail just down the road from where I live
- you don't want to live on Peter Street (I used to live there)
- there's still quite a bit of racism out there, most of it aimed at Muslims - there were more than a few comments bandied about that were pretty tough to listen to (still don't know how to respond to racist comments -- sometimes I challenge them and other times I just shut up and say what's the point of saying anything?)
- people just want to provide for their families and have a good life. None of us are different from each other in that regards. Where we differ is our various versions of what that means.
- this neighbourhood is very much like the Stinson neighbourhood in Hamilton, from whence I just moved. And that I would rather live in a mixed income and lifestyle neighbourhood with all its complexities, than a place where everybody tries to be the same as the next person.

A fascinating day. It's going to be a fascinating couple of years. Or six months. Or four years. However this silly political situation plays out.

What is it about cars?

Goodbye, faithful friend 


The salvage company is coming to take away my car today.

Sigh ... funny how attached we get to our cars. We've gone a lot of miles together, often just the car and I. From Ottawa to Kentucky. And back again. And yet another time from Ottawa to Kentucky. Many more times after that. Down to Nova Scotia this summer.

We've had a lot of good times. So I was really surprised when all it took was a not-very-violent collision at a slow speed in a parking lot to do her in. I figured it would only be a couple thousand bucks damage.

I sure don't know much about car repairs .. the bill would have been over $6000. So, the insurance company says, we'll write you a cheque. Got to admit the settlement amount was more than I expected. And Barry is the real winner here -- my original plan (before the accident) to pay him for half and keep the car. Only I told him I wasn't going to give him a penny more than half of $4000. So he's got a whole lot of reasons to be happy right now. And I could have told him that the insurance company only gave me $4500. But I didn't.

I am not going to get another car right away. I can go without one for the next few months until I get a more solid revenue stream happening. Then I'll probably lease something new. Or, if my friends Sarah and Shawn go to Korea, I'll buy their 1992 Volvo -- it's a kick ass car (in a Volvo kind of way .. isn't that something like referring to something from Ikea as "kick-ass"?)

What I mean is it's Swedish cool. Which is a whole bunch different from North America cool.

Oh, and by the way, I am alright. Nothing damaged except my ego. 'Cause it was my fault. Can't believe it -- I've driven thousands and thousands of miles all over this continent and the first time I get into an accident it's in a big-box mall parking lot going 20 kph.

I think I can still say I'm a good driver -- one accident in over 25 years of driving isn't a bad record. Even if I got a ticket for failing to yield. Would have been worse except I put my head down on the steering wheel and cried after it happened. The cop was real nice .. the tears did not hurt even if they were unintentional.

Time for another ramble ...

My friend Lil sent me an email and told me that she checks here every now and again to see how I am doing. Reminded me that I haven't done an update in a while, and that people sometimes do go here if they haven't heard from me in a while. So I should keep this up.

It's a quiet Sunday evening and I am listening to some Beethoven sonatas, and it feels like a good time to say more than "ya, hi, I'm okay".

I'm better than okay, actually. I'm doing really well. Having a small bout of "but what am I going to be doing in May?" but doing a good job of telling myself that May is a long way off (got a gig until the end of April). And that things have worked out really well thus far, which should give me every reason to believe that this trend will continue. So I opened up a bottle of wine and I think I'm getting past the momentary little bit of fear. And looking at Nova Scotia real estate ads and seeing that one of the houses I like has dropped to $59,000!

I am amazed at how well things are going. I started teaching my radio broadcasting course (better be careful here .. I have my blog address on the bottom of all my emails, accessible to any student who wants to have a look). Not that I'd say anything different if they weren't reading anyway. I think the funniest thing is being called "Professor" .. I'm just not used to it yet. It's shaping up to be a really good group, and it's really good to be able to share all this knowledge that has accumulated over the years. I have been looking over all the radio handouts I've written over the years and realizing that I've got a lot of my material written already. Maybe I should write a book.

Jobs have been falling into my lap ever since I arrived here. I haven't even had to look. The latest job offer is to model for digital animation classes at St. Clair College. Because it's animation, the poses change fairly quickly, with no more than ten minutes per pose. So it's not like I have to sit there, or stand there, or lie there, or stand on one leg for hours and hours at a time. I think it will be a good exercise in keeping still, and keeping quiet. (Some of you will think this is very funny). My friend Sarah is the one who passed along my name -- she says she just goes into meditation when she's doing it, and the discipline is very helpful in terms of getting grounded and centred.

At this point, I have no idea how long I will be in Windsor. It has the reputation of being "Velcro City" .. because arriving here is like backing into a piece of Velcro -- hard to tear yourself away.

That's okay for now. I have changed a lot in the past few months -- I don't have "goals" any more. I do have hopes and dreams, and things I am working towards. The difference, the way I see it, is that goals are things one is going to accomplish come hell or high water. Hopes and dreams are a lot more fluid .. things that would be good to do if that's the direction that life takes us. I remember somebody saying (quite) a few years ago that plans are good, but even the Soviets only had five year plans. So I have started to think it's a lot better to let things evolve, rather than try to force them. (Haven't entirely broken myself of the habit of needing to bulldoze things through, but I am making progress).

More later.

Happy New Year everybody!

Just a quick post so you know I'm still out here.

Life is good. Still having fun.

Hope you are too.

More on yesterday's thought ..

I've been doing some more research on this whole area of media and the relationship to self. There is not much work being done, except for a bit on post-traumatic stress and war journalists.

I thought this quote summed up why I think this is an important area of study.

"Good journalism depends on healthy journalists. For the general public to be kept abreast of important world events, it is essential that the news not be filtered through the emotional distress of the men and women recording history."

Reporting Under Fire: Understanding Psychopathology of War Journalists
By Omar Ghaffar, M.D., M.Sc., and Anthony Feinstein, M.D., Ph.D., M.Phil.

For those of you wanting to go further into this, the article can be found here.

Also interesting findings -- which is pretty consistent with what I've seen -- we're drinkers but not heavily into hard drugs. Bit of pot. Bit of cocaine. Lots of scotch.

It's an interesting read, especially for those in this biz.

Merry Almost Christmas

I can hardly believe it. It looks like we're going to be having a white Christmas in Windsor. This hardly ever happens -- if Christmas isn't brown down here, it's a slush Christmas.

But no. It's cold. It's snowy. And it's lovely.

My Christmas season is pretty relaxing so far, and I like it that way. I'm working at a modest pace, putting together radio shows and getting ready for the radio broadcasting course I'm teaching at the University in January. This is probably the most exciting development -- I really do like teaching and I really do love teaching radio in particular, so it's a good thing to do.

More than several people have said "so, are you going to do your doctorate?" Well, I'd have to do a Masters' first, but it's an idea I'm kicking around. There are a few areas of research I'm interested in. One of the main things that intrigues me is the role of the self in contemporary media. The dominant idea that I am developing (informally thus far) is that we are not allowed to even HAVE a self. This is rooted in the dogma of objectivity. And because we are encouraged to remove the self from our work, our work also becomes divorced from all the other selves we are writing about, and are writing too. And that's one of the reasons why we have such weak programming on the air.

Okay, I'll save the rest for my thesis.

I'm training myself to go easy on myself and not to need to accomplish everything I want to in two hours. I'm in a comfortable place right now and really happy I have everything I need for the next little while -- good friends, a good place to live, enough to live on, interesting work and a mind and body that works really well.

I am happy. I don't have a clear map of the road ahead, but I am finally learning how to live with the mystery.

Love
Victoria

Quick Update

Well, things are moving ahead really nicely down here. My art installation "Mixing Addictions" is going together really well and I actually have the self-discipline now to work on it in both a systemic and spontaneous way (this is one of my biggest challenges).

AND ...

I have been offered a sessional instructor job teaching radio broadcasting at the University of Windsor. I am still pretty amazed .. I've done some teaching before but not at the university level. This is a very good thing. Maybe I'll even start to think about doing a master's ... not sure where all this is going but it's a good direction.

More later. Got to get to the studio.