Red Cedar

(Feature photo today is not mine – I swiped it off the VanCityBuzz post about cherry blossoms from a couple of years ago – but this is pretty much what Vancouver looks like at the moment.)

Yesterday was an okay day at work. In fact, this whole week has been okkkkkaaaay…. but on the other hand I’ve been feeling old/fat/tired-looking and everything else that comes to mind when I look in the mirror. Everything in my life is just *fine* but sometimes I feel bad about things anyways.

Anyhow, as I was saying – yesterday was an okay day, except at the end of it, I went to get my bike out and because our bike lock-up is full on sunny days in the spring, someone had locked their bike in a way that made mine almost impossible to unlock. It was almost as though this person had intentionally locked their bike in such a way as to impede me from removing mine – so ridiculously intertwined were the pedals/spokes and the handlebars – not to mention that their wheel blocked my u-lock in such a way that I had to wedge my arm into a two inch space while holding the key to get it out.

Okay – so fine. I wrestled the bike out and only said fsck once (though it was in front of a somewhat gentle and conservative co-worker so that wasn’t so great).

Got on the bike, rode through a crosswalk which is not a spot where bikes are required to stop, but is a yield to pedestrians spot. A woman crossing, who was about ten feet away from me said “you have a red light” as I crossed – which was not in fact true, and if she had been any closer to me – I would have yielded but there was no danger of running into anyone. Trust me, I cycle slow (downtown especially) *and* I follow all the road rules. Basically, this person was angry that I cycled near her (and was likely also grumpy from something that had happened in her day).

So then I was cycling home, and I was fuming – about the bike lockup and the crabby woman, and how I’m old/fat/tired these days and blah blah blah. It’s of course the most beautiful day in the world, and the cherry blossoms in East Van make riding the most glorious experience right now (I mean, this is hella good riding time, you almost cry from the beauty of the dark clouds and the pink blossoms sometimes, not to mention the view of Mount Baker through the condos on the clear days and, and, and)…. but instead of taking it all in, I’m in a mad loop about all the things that are wrong.

Somewhere around Clark and Adanac the phrase “all my twisted karma” popped into my head. Which is a zen phrase that is used to think about difficulties and our response to difficulties – that our lives are the result of all our ancient, twisted karma. This sound superstitious and magical – but really, it’s a way of saying that we inherit a lot of things that become ours to work with. Perhaps we inherit crappy (fat) genes, or we are descendants of colonial settlers, or we have a history of mental illness in our family that impacted our upbringing – all of these things are the karma into which we are born, and thus must address in our lifetime (and even if we can’t fix or change them, we might atone for or repent them in various ways by doing good).

That phrase itself is chanted as part of the Zen Buddhist Repentance chant which goes:

“All my ancient, twisted karma
from beginningless greed, hate, and delusion
borne of body, speech, and mind
I now fully avow.”

As soon as the first phrase of the repentance popped into my head, so too did the lines that followed – and I found myself crossing Clark on the light with the beginning of the chant building in me. By the time I was one block towards the big hill, I  was whispering the chant to myself in time with my pedaling, and by the time the hill began to build I was chanting these lines outloud to myself over and over (though lowering my voice when I got close to anyone else). As I crossed Commercial Drive (where the hill starts to get steep) and slowed down, so I also slowed down the chanting – allowing the words and the remembering of them to in some way “power” me into joy. I was both pushing myself physically and laughing at the ridiculousness of chanting the repentance outloud while cycling uphill, and the sun was shining, and I had released the negativity from the first half of my ride, and by the time I crested the steepest part of Adanac Hill I realized that I had gone all the way up in nothing less than third gear (until yesterday I have granny geared near the top to make it through).

And from there I sailed home, chanting under my breath the whole way – and came into the house laughing, transformed.

Which is all to say that so much of what we think matters doesn’t, and it’s just a matter of remembering that.

Now that the flurry of activity around house selling and buying has subsided, I’m finding myself obsessed with weaving again – though because I don’t have access to a working loom at the moment (I had to return my rented table loom and the floor loom needs some work that I’m not able to do until we move) – I am confined to reading articles on the Internet, and thinking about building a pin loom to play with in the meantime.

Over a weekend meditation retreat, I had some strong thoughts about using my meditation skills in a more applied way when approaching weaving, community building, and generosity practice – which are tied into the move and having access to a larger studio space in which to work and host people. Without saying too much at the moment, this is part of my shifting orientation, also known as “the perfect life I am going to lead in the new house” which is so much the delusion of moving (that somehow it makes us a better person automatically). But delusion or no, it’s also where inspirations come from – so I am allowing full play to my creative living ideas at the moment.

I have two knitting projects on the go, and I’ve started on my first attempt to sew the perfect summer dress that I can wear while cycling and also in the office (this will be constituted of a knit/stretch fabric with a flared skirt, no waistline, and no or short sleeves – something that I can dress up with a cardigan and a pair of tights or wear sleeveless and with cycling shorts). I’m on dress version number one (made with grey bamboo fabric) which so far is working out pretty well except for some gaping at the neckline. I’m going to finish this one as best I can, alter the pattern and then move onto a more colourful fabric that I picked up last week. If that one works out, then I’ve got the model for my perfect wardrobe (layered with simple, easy-to-wear dresses as the foundation). Photos of those projects soon.

Moving and thinking about setting up house is definitely sparking my aesthetic creativity right now. I had forgotten how much a change of scenery (or a proposed one at this point) can do that. Right now I just want to get all the *hard* stuff (like moving) out of the way so I can bust out the loom and warping board – on the other hand, the delayed gratification is helping me finish some other projects (like the dresses, and a quilt for my niece) which I would like to get done before summer. It’s delicious, this desire to create. I had forgotten about it a bit in March, what with sickness and houses on the brain – I feel like it’s back in full flower again.

The last couple of mornings have involved flights – yesterday I cycled to work in the dark, parked my bike, and walked over to the float plane dock to catch the 7:10 to Comox. This morning I woke up in Courtenay, cabbed back to Comox Harbour and flew back to go to work. It’s a crazy thing to do, but during weeks of back to back meetings and other commitments, sometimes it’s the only way (1 hour of flying versus 4-5 hours of car and ferry travel each way). I’m fortunate that someone is willing to pay me to do that (my union) so I can enjoy the efficiency without paying the full cost (though, if you break it down, flying is not much more expensive than the ferry/car option).

I’m close to finishing work for the day, and then I will get back on my bicycle to meet an old friend for dinner at my favourite restaurant in town – not one with a patio – but the guacamole is to die for.

I’m feeling ridiculously privileged right about now (and the little trauma victim in me is wondering what bad thing is going to happen to make me pay for this but fortunately I’m old enough now that I can mostly ignore that voice) – it’s really the best time of year on the coast with the flowers, the onset of nice weather, the sheer picturesque beauty of it all. I made the mistake of mentioning it on a phone call with my Ottawa co-workers this afternoon, only to be met with groans since they are expecting more snow.

Some days the high cost of living in this city seems to make more sense than others.

I think that I am finally recovered from my illness – the one that started a month ago with really bad exhaustion/aches and had me in bed for a week, then turned into a head cold – then just continued to produce swollen glands and exhaustion for a couple of weeks…. it seems to have pretty much left me with the dawning of spring. Hurrah!

This photo of an ornamental quince was taken last night just before a meditation sit in the backyard studio at the Urban Crow. It pretty much expresses how much more alive I am feeling post-illness, in the full flower of the season.

We signed the paperwork yesterday to remove the subjects on our Gabriola Island real estate purchase and we are now officially on the hook come June 9th to transfer the money over. Got the movers booked already and we’re now counting down until our move date. I’m feeling all the feelings right now – including a tiny little bit of anxiety. But I’m pretty sure that will pass soon. Onward!