Red Cedar

I haven’t moved yet, but the prospect of moving in two weeks time has got me distracted from everything else. I am finishing old projects that have turned up, organizing my belongings, and getting rid of garbage one bag at a time. We have packers coming to do the big work of boxing it all up, but I’ve still got to sort out what needs to be taken, and what should be given away, recycled, composted, or trashed. 

While I feel that I have the moving part under control, I have to admit that I occasionally get a bit scared about moving to Gabriola. I’ve been pretty committed to urban living for a long time, and there’s a part of me that worries that I am not ready to go back to the country just yet. On the other hand, whenever we go out to our cabin in the woods (which we just did for five amazing days this past weekend) – I never want to leave, and re-entering the city feels like a big drag. And then when I imagine living steps from the sea, I get really excited. So – really, I’m feeling all the feelings. I have loved my home and my neighbourhood for a long time, I am also ready to move on from this house, but I don’t want to leave because leaving is change and change is who knows what next?

Right? Right. Moving residence is a thing I haven’t done for awhile – not since I came back from the Sunshine Coast nine years ago – and I am provoked by the reality of it. The hugeness of the undertaking. The smallness of its importance to anyone else but me.

I’m not sure if I’ll get to post much in the next couple of weeks – we’ll see. But if I don’t, rest assured that I am just gently freaking out as the days tick by and pretty soon it will all be done.

Nitobe garden at UBC – so glorious right now (at least it was on Sunday when I took this picture during a break from meditation). I’ve been soaring on good feelings for the last couple of days, though as of this moment, I have nothing important to say – so enjoy this beautiful spot where I laid down and looked at the water.

I’m learning how to record and edit myself for the purposes of podcasting. Last night after lots of ums, ahs, false starts, and the telephone ringing (the phone never rings around here normally!) I dropped into a bit of a reflection about the sound of my own voice. A little editing in GarageBand and it’s a nice little vignette (if I do say so myself). Interested in hearing four minutes of me? Press play below (and I won’t be offended if you don’t).

And yes, I could speak a bit slower – but the truth is, I probably won’t learn how to do it now after forty-three years – so let’s all try to listen a little faster, shall we?

On the weekend I went to Victoria to see my family and took a hundred photographs of blooming flowers in Playfair Park – a place my mother lived next door to in the 1940s, and where a house my grandfather helped build still stands (his family did not live in the house, the lived in the apartment building of the landlord who was building the house). It’s quite a remarkable place at this time of year – in the 1950s, there was a significant volunteer effort which resulted in one of the most amazing rhododendron (aster, camelia, etc)  gardens you can see anywhere in BC. It’s all in full bloom right now, so if you are near there – go and take a walk. I promise you won’t be sorry about it – there are many places where you are literally canopied by flowers – and it smells as good as it looks!

The spring weather and our impending move have me restless at the moment – to the degree that I am experiencing anxiety (the real kind) about all things. It doesn’t help that I find it hard to meditate in this state, which further compounds the anxious feeling, along with the fact that we are spending money on things for the move (something that triggers all sorts of weird feelings that stem from childhood about the ‘badness’ of spending money). I have a two day retreat with Norman Fischer coming up this weekend, and I’m curious about how it will be to sit still and focus on my breathing for two days in the midst of these heightened feelings of insecurity. Meditation retreats present differently each and every time (so says me who started doing retreats only a year ago!) – and are so influenced by the context in which we take them. I’ve just blocked off work time for two more (longer) retreats – one this summer, and one in November – as I am committed to practicing with my zen community when possible, even though I am moving off the mainland.

Despite this buzzing feeling (or perhaps because of it), I am ready for new creative projects. I’ve been putting thought into a new website for our home, music and podcast. I’ve started learning about podcast recording and editing, thinking about story structure, and all the like of that. Brian and I are well into planning two parties, one for the cabin (May work party) and our housewarming (August long weekend). And I’ve got six lengths of dress fabric sitting out on the ironing board waiting to be turned into tank tops, shirts and cycling tunics for summer. I’ve got just shy of six weeks until we move – five really until pack-up – and I intend to have all this sewn up before we go. I hope that’s really possible, but given the simplicity of the base pattern I am using, I think it is. Since I’m desperately in need of some new tops I’m feeling pretty motivated (this has the added bonus of being a procrastination maneuver).

And just in June I’ve got a full calendar already, a loom that wants refurbishing, a new home to organize, a meeting in Ottawa, and a wedding in Bella Coola to attend.

On the other hand, there is so much energy in this season that everything seems possible, colourful, and light.