New Life Begins.....

The lemon yellow room with the white bunk beds looked out over the tall trees.  I loved the way the late afternoon sun made it almost glow, and the vantage point it provided for admiring the setting sun.  But those white beds, with their cheery, almost nautical theme, also served as a reminder of a very sad and painful time indeed.
Standing empty in front of the walls that had been insulated by my husband and painted by me in preparation for the adopted Ethiopian girls whose arrival was written on our hearts but was apparently not meant to be, they spoke volumes in the quiet. And the noise created by that quiet was so deafening that, for a time, I could not visit that room.
Then, some light.  My niece and nephew stayed in that lemony space, filling it with laughter.  Little Charlotte, in our city with her parents for a year while we were abroad, made the lemon room her own, declaring it home.  Her baby brother Kiva, almost born in the house itself, also spent time there, growing big and strong.
Yesterday, a moving van arrived to take our white bunk beds to one of the first Syrian refugee families arriving in Canada, whose little girls, 4 and 7, had to leave beds and toys and everything else behind when they fled Syria with the family after the first bombs fell.  We haven't met them, but are glad to know their new life will be made just a bit easier because of those beds.  For what is more important than a safe place to lay your head.
Today, we fashioned a new little reading and writing room out of that glowing lemony space, with a pull-out bed for visitors, just in case.  Curled up on the couch, books in hand, with the setting sun illuminating everything, we sense new life all round.

Beginning with Gratitude

A few weeks back in our home city, I was wrestling with the mundane challenges of my return to regular life.  The beautiful vistas of Moorea and Bora Bora had been replaced with traffic jams on the 401, the grime and routine of daily urban living, and the still palpable grief of losing my beloved Father-in-Law.  And I was struggling to maintain the healthy habits I had started on our year away, and felt overwhelmed with doubt about my capacity to successfully return to work.  Then, something surprising happened as I was struggling with the fog of "re-entry": the teachers and teachings I needed to help me navigate this return to the familiar appeared in front of me, just as I needed them.

Oprah Winfrey and Deepak Chopra launched a glorious new 21 day meditation challenge focused on gratitude, and I cried thankful tears at the many extraordinary blessings in my life.  Kris Carr focused her wonderful blog on editing our massive personal "to do" lists, just as I needed to hear that message.  And I suddenly realized that the blue sky, seen through the magnificent maple trees in our very own Christie Pits Park, is just as blue as in other glorious ports we visited over the past year, and there is other beauty, such as the community garden, to discover there as well.  In short, I discovered that grace, and beauty, can be located readily with an open heart in the stillness anywhere.    

Eckhart Tolle said: "Acknowledging the good that you already have in your life is the foundation for all abundance." And the wonderful Mary Oliver, who has made an art of seeing and being grateful, said: "Hello, sun in my face/Hello you, who made the morning/Watch, now, how I start the day/in happiness, in kindness."

Here's to starting and ending the day in gratitude, which is, it seems, the perfect place both to begin, and begin again.

The Start of A New Journey

I am sitting, not in a beautiful Polynesian bungalow, but in the less dramatic (but still beautiful) sitting room of our home in Toronto, contemplating one key question: Can I take what I learned from our extraordinary journey, and apply it to my life, in ways that help me to live a healthy and happy life?  Can I even survive, (let alone thrive), in this new/old world -- (the world I left just one year ago, but which now feels so foreign, and mainly unwelcome?)  And, with insomnia and fuzzy headedness and back pain already "back" -- (before I have even formally returned to work!) -- can I live that "old life" in new ways, with new tools, that allow me to not only survive (as I just barely did, one year ago) but hopefully to actually thrive?  I don't know the answers to these questions yet, but am going to try to find out.

The end of our journey was marked first by great joy, and (a surprising!) feeling of both great love, and protection; followed by great sadness and vulnerability (more on both of those, later).  Despite the dizzying swing between those two seemingly opposite states, when I found a moment to breathe and finally take it all in, I decided that the one, singular conclusion of the journey remains true, (at least for me), namely -- that we must make our way delicately, but with great purpose, and with a deep respect for the world and all that is in it; and, (especially), with great Love, which is, in the end, all that is.

My sister gave me a card with a (beautiful!) poem by William Stafford, that says: "Starting here, what do you want to remember?/How sunlight creeps across a shining floor?/What scent of old wood hovers, what softened sound from outside fills the air?/....Will you ever bring a greater gift for the world/than the breathing respect that you carry/wherever you go, right now?/What can anyone give you greater than now, starting here, in this room, when you turn around?"

Here's to starting a new journey, that brings fresh insights and sees with new eyes; that carries a breathing respect for the world, and lives fully (and joyfully!) in each moment; that recognizes that there is no greater gift than now, starting right here, in this room, when we turn around.

Reflections on a Ten Month Journey

I was sitting in my little Polynesian bungalow at the Hotel Kaveka, watching a slow-burning sunset after an afternoon of heavy rain, contemplating the pending conclusion of our more than ten month travel adventure, thinking: "Have I changed, as a result of all this?; Have place, and people, as P.K. Page asked, changed me?" And the answer, from a new, quiet, but knowing place, deep inside, that I discovered, (or perhaps rediscovered) while away, was "yes".

The hard-driving, Type A woman, who used to measure the day's success by the completed column on her to-do list, (and woke up one day on an ambulance gurney, as a result), had left the building; in her place was someone who was, and is, straining at a much deeper "to do" and, (especially) "to be".

The woman who felt an expanding sense of fear both for and about the world now has a heightened sense of the fragility of this world, but also a greater confidence in the unseen force guiding it, and the strength of the shared bond of love between us -- the "one love, one heart", as Bob Marley so aptly said.  And she has a renewed sense of beauty -- both the astonishing physical beauty that is all around us, but also the quiet beauty in each life, or "the light that can shine out of a life", as Mary Oliver so beautifully phrased it.

Thinking about that beautiful light, and the bonds of love that seem not only intact but growing stronger, while gazing out across Cook's Bay, was almost too much to bear. So I will just say this: We are all in it together in this beautiful, fragile world; we must make our way delicately, but with great purpose; with a deep, breathing respect for the world and all that is in it, and, (especially) with great Love, which in the end, is all there is.

Bora Bora: The Pearl of the Pacific

Bora Bora, the Pearl of the Pacific, is perhaps the bluest, truest dream of all.  On arriving at her small island airport, you are greeted by a most beautiful and unearthly site: the perfectly clear and, in places, milky aquamarine lagoon; and, just beyond, majestic, blue-green Mount Otemanu and Mount Pahia rising up to the sky; a scene that is so other-worldly that it feels, truly, like a waking dream.

Having heard of the tourist excess for which Bora Bora has also become known, I wondered what was to come.  But, with most of the tourists ensconced in over-water bungalows, and being blessed to stay at a small, family owned and operated hotel at which I was generally 1 of just 2 or 3 guests -- the lovely Hotel Eden Beach -- I experienced the Bora Bora of my dreams: peaceful, serene and exquisitely beautiful. I spent hours watching the changing colours of the magnificent lagoon, and radiant moon above the palms at night; and was overjoyed to one night see bioluminescent plankton throwing a slashing electric light along the shore as the waves rolled in.  But despite all this beauty, which was itself almost more than the heart could bear, it was once again the protective, lovingkindness of people and even animals that added love as well as beauty to my stay.

I was moved and astonished to have a couple celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary take me under their wing, and have the family dog stand guard outside my suite, all night, and thought: Who am I to deserve such lovingkindness?  And then, (thinking of my morning meditation): You are one of the "spiritual beings having a human experience", who is both worthy of such kindness, and capable of also extending it, in the same way, to others.  And wouldn't the world be a kinder and more loving place if we could all find ways to do that?  Here's to the extraordinarily beautiful places in the world that give us a glimpse of the love that created this world; and the lovingkindness and generosity that bring that beauty, and love, alive in our hearts.

Moorea: Heaven Must Look Like This

I was utterly entranced by beautiful Moorea: it is the place where I rediscovered joy, and felt the grace of genuine lovingkindness.

From the moment I arrived at the Hotel Kaveka, and gazed out, from beneath the palm fronds, across Cook's Bay at majestic Mount Rotui, I thought: "heaven must look like this"; the tropical fish swimming in the lagoon below only added to the magic.  When I got on one of the hotel bikes and started touring around the island -- into charming Maharepa, and then back the other way, past the magnificent lookout at Paopao and the Bali Hai Club -- I felt a free and easy joy that I haven't felt (in great measure) since childhood.

But it was once again the blessed blend of wildly beautiful place and gentle people that cemented my love for this new "home".  An American couple, there celebrating their 10th anniversary, noticed me on my own, (with my husband now home to spend time with his Dad and me to follow); and decided to take me under their wings, including me in some magical adventures, and cementing a new, deep and lovely friendship.  We hiked up past the magnificent lookout at the Belvedere (with one of the men who built the trail!), did an amazing snorkelling and paddling tour, and beautiful sunset tour through Cook and Opunohu Bays, and spent time visiting, talking and dining together.

I was blessed to meet many other lovely people in Moorea, and felt a kind of grace, and special, protective lovingkindness from all.  Here's to the magical places and loving people who bring us joy, and the moments of pure grace, whenever and wherever we find them.

French Polynesia: A Bluetrue Dream Awake

Though I'd never visited before and had only seen pictures and heard some of the legends, the 7-year-old boy adventurer still alive and well in me had sights firmly set on the final destination of the voyage: French Polynesia. And these spectacular islands, archipelagos and coral-reef fringed islets ("motu") in the beautiful South Pacific did not disappoint; instead, they were the culmination of all that I had dreamed about and hoped for, for the voyage: a bluetrue dream, awake.

We started our French Polynesian adventure as almost everyone does: in Tahiti. And, though Tahiti is the largest and most urbanized of the Society Islands -- indelible, unique images of French Polynesian life and culture were already, everywhere evident.  Women, young and old, really do wear flowers in their hair; hibiscus and other blossoms are abundant; the island's interior mountains are deep green, covered in tall palms and ferns; and beautiful black sand beaches, and the blue Pacific beyond, seem to encircle everything.

The Tahitian people we met were extraordinarily kind, and proud of their paradise; and seemed, at least to us, to live their lives more closely focused on the natural beauty that surrounds them.  So I thought: why can't I find ways of more regularly seeking out and savouring the beauty in my corner of the world, even if I don't live in beautiful Tahiti?

You've not seen greens and blues like this before/A canopy of palms, a riot of greens/splay upwards, faces open to the sun and blue blue sky beyond/Above them, a frothy white meringue of clouds spiral lazily upwards/The endless blue day.  Here's to seeking out and appreciating the world's beauty, wherever we can find it; and to finding, and savouring, the endless blue day.

New Zealand: Going Home to Middle Earth

Kiwis and Canadians who have travelled to each other's countries will tell you there is something vaguely familiar about each place for the other.  And so it was with us: going to New Zealand felt like going home -- (to a new, semi-tropical home, with better weather, the Tui's reed-flute song, and a heart-rending view of Wellington Harbour and the beautiful Korokoro Hills!)

Aspects of New Zealand's stunning, diverse landscapes -- her rolling hills, and deep blue lakes, and mountain fjords -- felt both familiar, and, at the same time, brand new. And we benefited from two other elements that make a place a home: meeting dear new friends (who reintroduced us to our old loves, music and poetry) and visiting with much-loved family.

We were blessed to see almost all of both the stunning North and South Islands, and do most of that ambitious journey with my 78-year-old Mom, (who awed us, once again, with her spirit, energy and vitality); and enjoyed a 2nd visit with family, and two children that hold a special place in our hearts.  We toured (gorgeous) Bay of Islands, took the Northern Explorer train from Auckland to Wellington, took the ferry from Wellington across Cook Strait to Picton, and visited Christchurch, Queenstown, Milford Sound, Fox Glacier and Nelson -- all in 1 epic road trip.  Mom navigated the trip with grace, good humour, and her always inspiring joie de vivre, despite the fact she spent most of it sitting cramped in the back seat of our little car, (so that I, with my fuzzy head, could ride shotgun, in the front). I thought: even now, she is still both inspiring me, and "taking care of me".  And then: what a blessing, to experience beautiful places like this with dear friends and family.

We will never forget our trip home, to Middle Earth. Here's to the beautiful places in this well-made world, and to the friends and family whose love and presence makes them "home", where the heart is.

New Caledonia's Bluetrue Marine World

New Caledonia is a place of astonishing physical beauty and marine beauty; but, for me, will always be "the place where we saw the tiger shark."  A stunningly pretty blue-green archipelago, it is situated on the largest coral reef lagoon in the world, that was in 2008 designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

But that mattered little when we saw the tiger shark.  We had been snorkelling in a large group with three guides from a local agency.  As I had battled vertigo after my seizure and concussion, I was using a "noodle" (a decidedly uncool snorkelling accessory) to try to keep water out of my ears, a losing battle given the relatively high waves.

My husband saw him first, deep below us, and called to me to look; and then I saw him too, and felt my heart almost stop.  About 4 feet long, with the tiger markings that juveniles wear, he was searching for prey that fortunately did not seem to include us. For one brief moment, I felt calm, and proud of my calm.  Then, when we suddenly got caught in a large school of small fish, and I thought about the shark's likely preferred diet -- some ancient preservation system kicked in, and I frantically splashed my way back to the boat, noodle in tow and almost hyperventilating, as though propelled by a large motor.

My awe, amazement (and fear) kept me from participating in the next round of snorkelling, which was even more awe-inspiring (and likely safer -- involving only gentle, black-tipped reef sharks).  Still, the encounter left an indelible memory, as all such encounters with nature, truly raw and wild, do.  Here's to the wild beauty and amazing creatures of this remarkable world, to protecting and preserving them, and finding moments, when we can, to (safely) see, and be amazed.

Hawaii's Aloha Spirit and Beauty

When we set off on our voyage, we were tired, in need of rest and healing, and hungering for both wild places and gentle people.  So we said prayers of thanks, every day, that we were able to spend time in places like magnificent Hawaii.

Hawaii's wild beauty is well-known and indisputable.  We drove the length of Kona's gorgeous coast, and marvelled at the black and green sand beaches, miles and miles of black lava fields, and awe-inspiring volcanoes in Volcano National Park, which were actively erupting as we arrived -- nature, in all her raw, powerful magnificence.

After Kona, we moved on to beautiful Kauai, which presented an entirely different kind of wild, including the lush greens of Hanalei Bay, the ancient steppes of Waimea Canyon and the serene, sculpted beauty of the Napali Coast -- heaven.

But it was the combination of this wild beauty and Hawaii's gentle "aloha spirit" that was particularly alluring.  Everywhere we went, we met people for whom the aloha spirit is not simply a greeting, or term of affection, or even a cultural tradition; but rather an active and sacred way of life, that has a much deeper meaning, related to experiencing people at the soul or spirit level, and honouring that.

I thought: how much kinder and more loving the world would be if we could all bring a little aloha spirit into our way of being in the world.

Here's to Hawaii's wild beauty and aloha, and the wild places that soothe our spirits, and gentle people who see them, wherever they may be.

St Thomas US Virgin Islands: A New Way Forward for Island Paradises?

We arrived in St. Thomas US Virgin Islands in the middle of the night in early December, after months of rain in beautiful Brazil, lacking both sleep and luggage.  In the morning, gazing out at the clam-shaped white sand beach and hundreds of miles of perfectly clear but also brilliantly turquoise Caribbean Sea, we found ourselves unable to do more than gaze at the beauty all around.

Finally, we ventured in to Charlotte Amalie; and, though some of locals pledge gratitude for the cruise ships and role they play in sustaining the local economy, were disturbed by the grotesque ways in which they have shaped the fabric of the city -- turning it into a kind of a luxury goods outlet mall for those voracious floating cities -- (a pattern, sadly, that we subsequently saw replicated in many other islands we visited).  Knowing they often now carry more than 5,000 passengers, generate 50 swimming pools of waste per week, dump that waste just 3 miles offshore (destroying precious marine life in the process); sometimes hit, damage or even destroy the coral reefs they should be seeking to protect, and are shaping local island environments, economies and culture in ways that benefit the tourists they serve but not necessarily the communities they exploit and transform -- we were concerned to hear that St Thomas was considering expanding its port to allow more ships, and even bigger ships (grotesque "mega ships") into port.  So we were relieved to hear that in March of this year, the West Indian Company suspended plans for Long Bay Pier, the proposed new $65 million cruise ship pier in St Thomas Harbour, citing "potential negative impacts on the quality of life of Virgin Islanders". We hope this decision will mark the first of many similar such decisions, that put the environments of these pristine and ecologically important parts of the world, and quality of life of their local residents first.

Here's to travelling lightly and with respect in this world, and to such new beginnings for the world's islands, and her plants, animals and people.

Brazil: O Pais Do Amor e Magia

Brazil is, truly, a dazzling beauty.  With 60% of the Amazon rainforest, 1/3 of the world's unique species, more than 2,000 beaches and iconic natural and man-made wonders such as Iguazu Falls, the magnificent statue of Christ the Redeemer, exuberant Carnival, sultry boss nova, the iconic Copacabana, Ipanema and hundreds of other beaches, and endless other wonders, Brazil's beauty and diversity surprises and delights.

We were blessed to spend time in Florianopolis, and were awed by its more than 40 beautiful beaches, and the serene beauty of Campeche beach, ("our beach"), during "the blue hour".  In Curitiba, we enjoyed the beautiful gardens and extraordinary art in the Oscar Niemeyer Museum.  In Salvador, the centre of Afro-Brazilian culture in Bahia state, we wandered the cobblestone streets of Pelhourinho, stood slack-jawed in the baroque beauty of  Convento Sao Francisco, and absorbed the pulsing energy of the batuque drums on "Music Tuesday".  And in beautiful Rio, we gazed in awe at the statue of Christ the Redeemer, the sun and life of Copacabana and Ipanema, and the heart-rending view of the city beneath a pink-blue-mauve mist from our perch on Sugarloaf Mountain.

In Brazilian Journal, the memoir of her time in Brazil, poet P.K. Page asked: "Does place alter person?  Its like falling in love -- with the country itself."  And Designer Francisco Costa said: "Brazil is not what you see, but what you feel."  For us, Brazil's most dazzling beauty was this: the lovingkindness shown to us by wonderful Brazilian people who welcomed us warmly, generously shared their homes and life with us, and are now cherished friends, who we "feel with our hearts".

Here's to appreciating and savouring beauty, wherever we are blessed to find it, and treasuring the greatest beauty of all: love, and "the dissolving boundaries of our narrow human self."

Buenos Aires: El Tango, La Vida

In Buenos Aires "poetry came in search of us".  We fell in love with our serene pied-a-terre in the heart of Recoleta, and spent hours strolling the tree-lined streets, wandering among the beautiful tombs and walkways of Recoleta Cemetary, and watching the world go by from cozy cafés.  But it was the inimitable tango -- the pulse of Buenos Aires itself -- that taught us the lessons that Buenos Aires had to teach.

One rainy evening, we took a tango lesson at El Beso, and later learned that our beautiful and very patient instructor was none other than the marvellous Maria Plazaola, final partner of the late, great Carlos Gavita.  That experience was a lesson in grace, awe and humility.  But another tango experience had even more significant lessons to teach.

On a blustery Sunday, on our way up the stairs to the tango matinee at the famed tango dance hall La Confiteria Ideal, we paused out of respect behind an elderly gentleman struggling to walk up the stairs, and then gasped in amazement to see him glide with ease across the dance floor when the music began; a lesson in both passion and perseverance.  But life in Buenos Aires -- where to live is to tango, and tango just might save your life -- is like that.

Martha Graham once said: "Dance is the hidden language of the soul"; and, in the late-night milongas still active all over Buenos Aires, portenos wear their souls on their sleeves.

In honour of Buenos Aires, here's to living, really living, to discovering the hidden language of our souls, and to dancing, even when we don't think we can.

Chasing Neruda: Chile's Pure Poetry

Stretched between the Andes and blue Pacific, Chile is a country of soaring contrasts.  From the faded elegance and history of Santiago to Valparaiso's candy colours and shipping-container corrugated metal; from the salt plains of the Atacama Desert to the lush vineyards of Vina Del Mar and astonishing beauty of Patagonia -- at times, it seems as though "it is all here".

For us, Chile was, first and foremost, the birthplace and home of Pablo Neruda -- the land of "kisses and volcanos"-- the country that (eventually) loved its poet, whose poet loved it.

No trip to Chile would for us be complete without making a pilgrimage to Neruda's Santiago, Valparaiso and country homes; so, making the pilgrimage to La Chascona, La Sebastiana and Isla Negra we went.  And, though Neruda's homes, more than most, reflect the peculiarities and eccentricities of their owner, they also contain much that reflects Chile itself -- unique treasures, contrasting settings, shapes and styles, and a peaceful, eternal reference to and reflection of the sea.

Neruda famously said that "poetry came in search of him"; recognizing the poetry in these places, with Isla Nedra his favourite, he said: “Bury me at Isla Negra/in front of the sea I know, in front of every wrinkled place/of rocks and waves that my lost eyes/will never see again.”

Here's to having poetry come in search of us; and, whether that be the case, or not, to find it -- in ourselves, in the people we love, and in our cherished corners of this beautiful world.

Costa Rica's Pura Vida

We were blessed to travel to Costa Rica earlier this year, and were thrilled to do so -- because of what we understood about both the country's singular beauty, and it's record of environmental protection.  After all, Costa Rica is the birthplace of both modern eco-tourism and the "pura vida" lifestyle and approach, right?

The country's extraordinary natural beauty -- green parakeets flying from tree to tree, a whole family of howler monkeys warning us to keep away from baby, and climbing up into the tall trees, and two green turtles mating in the big blue Pacific -- was indeed both humbling and inspiring.  Sadly, beginning on the plane ride home and since, troubling details about CR's environmental stewardship (or lack of same) have started to emerge:

-- A new documentary film appears to provide troubling evidence of shark finning organizations operating with impunity in the country;
-- A report in today's "Tico Times" raises concern about the Government's decision to green-light the export of hammerhead shark fin (a species on the Red List of Endangered Species) to Hong Kong;
-- More troubling still, a report in today's Guardian indicates that in May 2013, 26-year-old environmental activist Jairo Mora was murdered; and, since 1989, the murder of 10 environmental activists have gone unsolved. 

Margaret Mead once said: "We won't have a society if we destroy the  environment."  It's not fair to ask Costa Rica to do more than its fair share, but is hard to imagine a country whose economy is more closely connected to and dependent on, the fate of this beautiful planet and its unique marine and land species.   And, as home to six per cent of the world's biodiversity, Costa Rica's environmental stewardship is something on which we all depend.

We are indeed all interconnected, to each other, and to every other living thing; now, more than ever, we need leadership based on that critical fact.  Here's to recognizing our inter-connectedness and the fragile state of our ailing planet, and finding ways to support each other to save the planet, and save ourselves.

Time To Heal and Create

I am way behind on the "documenting and reporting on places and travel" that I had intended when I started this blog.  But some mysterious force keeps pulling me in and down to some previously unknowable place -- even as I look out, with amazement, at this magnificent world.

When we embarked on this journey, I had a deep hunger for time for healing, time for prayer for people and this world in need of healing, and time to create.  And each day, I am seeing the very close, even intimate connection between these three.

In "The Artist's Way", Julia Cameron says; "Art may be the finest form of prayer....In the art of creation, the Creator reveals himself to us, and we too are revealed to ourselves as something of the divine...The heart of creativity is an experience of the mystical union."

In her iconic poem "Summer Day", Mary Oliver suggests that even the act of taking note, of marvelling at this fascinating world, is a form of prayer: " I do not know exactly what a prayer is/But I do know how to pay attention/How to fall down in the grass/How to kneel in the grass/How to be idle and blessed/Tell me, what else should I have done?/Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

I am deeply moved by these comments, and by the experience of finally starting to create; and am hoping the act of doing so may serve as my prayer and offering for the world.

So here's to finding time to take note of this beautiful world, to falling down in the grass, to being idle and blessed, to being fully present in this wild and precious life, and seeing the spark of the divine in it, and in all of creation.

Bluetrue Baja

We spent the first weeks of our journey (outside of Canada) in a place that we love and have been dreaming about for years: beautiful Baja.

Baja is the blue true dream -- the place where electric blue sky meets aquamarine Sea of Cortez, which marries the brilliant blue Pacific at El Arco ("Land's End").  It is "La Frontera" to the locals, "the world's aquarium" according to Jacques Costeau, and one of Dr. Sylvia Earle's top "hope spots" -- critical to the health of the ocean, "Earth's blue heart".

Baja is the place where, with limited means but great heart Francisco Mayoral ("Pachico"), managed to protect the magnificent gray whales and San Ignacio Lagoon by reaching out to fellow fishermen and to poet and environmentalist Homero Aridjis.

It is the place that inspired John Steinbeck to say, in "Journal of the Sea of Cortez: "....all things are one thing and one thing is all things -- plankton, a shimmering phosphorescence on the sea and the spinning planet and an expanding universe -- all bound together by the elastic string of time."

We left Baja in August with full hearts, and some concern about the fragile state of its oceans, and developing communities.  Two days ago, we were heartbroken to learn that a violent hurricane tore up the peninsula, leaving devastation in its path.

We know two wonderful organizations whose work will be critical to Baja's healing and regeneration.  The Todos Santos Palapa Society (www.palapasociety.org) believes the future of the pueblo resides in the education and welfare of children, and provides scholarship, educational, medical and environmental programs for local children and families.  Mission Blue (www.mission-blue.org) is working to save the world's oceans by creating "Hope Zones", a network of protected marine areas similar to our land-based National Parks, starting with zones in The Sea of Cortez.

So this is our love letter to and prayer for beautiful Baja -- that we will work together to help her to heal and rebuild, by supporting the good work of these and other wonderful organizations, and that she will recover fully, and be a blue true dream, Earth's blue heart, for generations to come.

Muskoka's Bluetrue Dream

We started our great travel adventure on sacred territory: with family in our beloved Muskoka.

We first traveled to Muskoka seventeen years ago, when a tornado whipped through our campsite in Algonquin and the town of Huntsville -- taking power lines, roof tops and treetops with it, wherever it went; chastened by that experience, we stayed away for ten years.  Then we were called back to the woods, and decided to "stake a claim" on a little 1/10th ownership in a family owned cottage and small family resort on Lake of Bays: we have not looked back since.

For even ten years later, Muskoka is the place where white pine, willow, balsam fir, red maple and tamarack grow with abandon -- feeding the dreams of would-be Group of Seven artists and regular cottagers alike.  It is the place where you can spend whole days paddling its beautiful lakes, and feel the wind in your face.   And it is the place where, running with my sis round Lake of Bays in July, we were able to feel as through we two were alone in the woods -- with just green trees, blue sky and the occasional bird to keep us company.

Muskoka is the kind of place that must have inspired the e.e. cummings poem which inspires the title of this blog: "I thank you God for most this amazing/day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees/and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything/which is natural which is infinite which is yes/ (i who have died am alive again today,/and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth/day of life and of love and wings; and of the gay/great happening illimitably earth)/how should tasting touching hearing seeing/breathing any-lifted for the no/of all nothing-human merely being/doubt unimaginable You?/(now the ears of my ears awake and/now the eyes of my eyes are opened).

This is for the leaping, greenly, spirits of trees, all over this big, beautiful world; and for us, that we might find them, and protect them, and appreciate them for the sacred gifts they are.

The Hero's Journey

I am aware that this trip we are embarking upon is really two journeys, one outward and one inward; all of the books that are coming my way are reinforcing this duality.

I had the opportunity to witness Oprah's interview with the remarkable Jean Houston, author of "The Wizard of Us: Transformational Lessons From Oz", and decided it would be the first book to accompany me on the journey. 

Houston suggests that the increased inter-connectivity of the world means we are living in a unique time, that calls on us to draw on the best of ourselves, and posits that the "Hero's Journey" in The Wizard of Oz can contribute to our thinking about this possibility.  By reflecting on our own "Hero's Journey", we can find new reserves of inner strength and passion for the possible: "What you see in The Wizard of Oz is not only myth but also a powerful initiatory drama of the Hero's Journey...Dorothy goes home to Kansas, but not before she grows up in Oz.  Not before she discovers her own world of sufficiency and abundance....Oz...teaches her about discovering the riches and uses of one's full intelligence, friendship and compassion.   She....learns about the genius of working in partnership with others and how the committed community can do almost anything.  Finally, she learns about the magic, the wizardry, the sacred potency that lies within each one of us...

We are all on a Hero's Journey.  We have all experienced a Call to Adventure.  We have all lived through a Belly of the Whale experience. You don't have to be Hercules or Achilles, Odysseus or Perseus to be a hero. Consider the power you exercise right here, right now.  You have the capacity to do some good in the world, to do brilliant, beautiful things. However, you may not know this, or you may forget what you are capable of during the stress of the everyday world...The Wizard of Oz provides a template that allows us to open ourselves to the hidden capacities we had forgotten we had; the creative potentials we didn't know how to use; and the deeper knowing that transcends past, present and future....."

To realize our own, full potential, and tap in to the creative potential of our "Hero's Journey", we have to reflect on what we want to let go of from our outmoded past or present, and what we would like to draw to us, and/or reflect, in a world of infinite possibilities.  

So here's to doing so: to both letting go, and letting in, to embarking on our own Hero's Journey; to finding and claiming the best that lies within, and bringing back the best of ourselves, the most important things we have and are able to contribute, to Kansas, or wherever calls us home....

Wherever You Go

A friend who radiates with a special kind of beauty both inside and out gave me a book on mindfulness ("Wherever You Go There You Are", by Jon Kabat-Zinn).

As someone who inhales sharply at the first glimpse of blue mountains over the rise of the hill, or ribbons of pink in the evening sky, I pride myself on being mindful.  But like everyone I know, I find the idea of "non doing", even when I have the opportunity to indulge, an alien and anxiety-inducing concept.  And I am "mindful" of the times my anxious  mind has prevented me from sleeping, even a wink; a year ago, after a sunny morning flight to Halifax, I awoke to find myself on a gurney en route to the hospital after a seizure in the airport, my mind, at least momentarily, having seemingly exploded.  So, perhaps there might be something for me in this book.

At first, my restless mind flits about -- lighting on, celebrating and then rejecting several key passages, all at once.   Then certain segments float to the surface, asserting themselves.

I am reminded that Henry David Thoreau's Walden experience was, above all else, a personal exercise in mindfulness.

I pause at the quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes, which once again seems to signal the benefits of "going inside": "What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."  And I am struck by the serendipity of reading this just as I have been reflecting on the nature of home; it would seem, from this passage, that home is here, wherever we are, in each moment.

I reject the idea of non-attachment, and feel what could only be described as pride at my passionate attachments: to the people I love, to values I hold dear, to the work I love, to this big, beautiful world, to life itself.   But the idea of finding a few moments of stillness in each day, of observing, of being both fully aware and intentional, resonates deeply.

This exhortation, by author Jon Kabat Zinn is most resonant of all:  "Can we be in touch with our own life unfolding?  Can we rise to the occasion of our own humanity?  Can we take on the challenges we meet, even seeking them out to test ourselves, to grow, to act in a principled way, to be true to ourselves, to find our own way and ultimately not only have it, but, more importantly, live it?.....The beauty of meditative work is that it keeps us on the path, even in the darkest of moments.....It is a guide to human development, a roadmap to our radiant selves...."

So this is my ode to mindfulness:  Here's to rising to the occasion of our own humanity, to taking on the challenges we face, as best we can, and really living; to being fully aware of the beauty of each passing moment, of our radiant selves, and of the friends who send books our way, just as we need to read them.