Tag: Red chair

Ride vs. race

 

Last Sunday I was pumped and pooped. I finished my longest bike ride – 227km – as part of the The Ride to Conquer Cancer. I knew this was going to be a physical challenge, and it turned out to be a mental challenge that started before I even signed up for The Ride.

In April, my brother signed up for The Ride and invited me to join him. My first reaction was, “no way, I am not good at fundraising, I would have to buy a bike, I would have to train a lot.” But he had planted a seed that started to grow because I was looking for a new physical challenge, a goal for the summer’s physical activity. I said yes.

Scarcity-thinking was entrenched within me; I fussed about having enough time to train, I fussed about figuring out how fast we could go so we could finish in a respectable time, I fussed about the chunks of time when training would be impossible. My brother told me not to worry – we were going for a bike ride, not a race. How fast we finished didn’t matter.

But deep inside, I wanted to race.

Then, as I took this exploration of scarcity and abundance with me on a wilderness quest this spring, I received the gift of discerning chronos and kairos time.

*****

Chronos = time. The passage of time. The measurement of time. Related words: chronology, chronometer, chronic, anachronism, chronicle.  Quantitative.  A specific amount of time. An day. An hour. A minute.  (Link to Wikipedia.)

Kairos = the right, or opportune moment in time. The supreme moment.  Qualitative. A moment. A season.  Crises that bring opportunity. The crucial time.  (Link to Wikipedia.)

*****

I learned I was choosing to race with time.

A race is in chronos time; how fast I finish matters. A ride is in kairos time; I move from moment to moment, taking in the experience, shifting and adjusting, learning. In race mode, where I place matters. How I compare to others matters. In ride mode, I notice my accomplishment. I notice the physical challenge of cycling 112km one day, then 115 the next, when the most ground I have covered in a day is 60km. I notice the hum of 1700 cyclists and volunteers who raised $7.9M for cancer research. I notice the fellow I followed for a while, with this note on his back:

I ride for my brother, Henrik. 54 years old.
February 1950 to May 2014

This fellow just lost his brother.

I notice how wonderful it is to be healthy and ride with my healthy brother. I choose to notice what I have, not what I don’t have.

IMG-20140810-00482
Here we are at the finish line.
Photo: Angella Vertzaya

 

Cascading synchronicity

 

There is synchronicity in synchronicity.

Three days ago the words wild synchronicity were front and center in my being; today the words are “cascading synchronicity”.  And it all has to do with walks in the wilderness.

_____

Cascade – Noun

  1. A small waterfall, typically one of several that fall in stages down a steep rocky slope
    • A mass of something that falls or hangs in copious quantities
    • A large number or amount of something occurring at the same time
  2. A process whereby something, typically information or knowledge, is successively passed on
    • A succession of devices or stages in a process, each of which triggers or initiates the next

Cascade – Verb

  1. (Of water) pour downwards rapidly and in large quantities
    • Fall or hang in copious quantities
  2. Pass (something) on to a succession of others
  3. Arrange (a number of devices or objects) in a series or sequence

Origin

  • Mid 17th century from French, from Italian cascara, from cascare “to fall”, based on Latin casus.

(Note – above from Oxford Dictionary)

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Three weeks ago I left Washington’s Cascade Mountains, where I went on a wilderness quest, with the support and guidance of Ann Linnea, Christina Baldwin and Deborah Greene-Jacobi (and apprentice guide LeAnn Blackert).  I walked up the meadow of the Smith Canyon Valley, and up the valley to the right to set up a camp on the flank of the Sacred Mountain for 48 hours of solo time, alone in the wild.

The valley
Photo credit: Ann Linnea

Since my return home, having turned my back on the Sacred Mountian, writing has been one of the ways I listen to myself, to integrate and incorporate the experience of the wilderness quest. Much of the writing has surfaced in blog posts:

  1. I went to rewire the reptilian in me
  2. I found myself face to face with the ways Chronos + Kairos time show up in my life
  3. I realized the quest was also about Earth gazing from Earth
  4. I received an invitation to explore  my soul hungers
  5. I noticed wild synchronicity around me

_____

While sitting in the living room this week, I noticed a map my husband left on the coffee table. “Lake Minnewanka,” just north of Banff jumped out at me, and I recalled a walk along the shores of the lake almost seven years ago. I was in the middle of an intense learning experience and our hosts wisely gave us the gift of time that afternoon to integrate what we were learning, and decompress. We had a few choices, one of which was a guided walk in Canada’s Rocky Mountains with Rosemary.

I have to confess that Rosemary drove me nuts. I was hungry to get moving and do something physical after two and half days of sitting and concentration. I was alive to be outside, on the move. And Rosemary kept stopping. And talking. And we hardly moved at all.

I had a conversation with myself about how to handle my frustration. I could just bolt and do my own thing, but since we were a group, my hosts would get in trouble; to bring a group into Banff National Park, you must have a guide. I could just play along. I chose to surrender, to listen to what she was saying. I didn’t give up – I surrendered to Rosemary and her wisdom.

And what I heard was remarkable.

How nature – the wilderness – works is, of course, very similar to how humans work.

Upon returning to the formal part of learning experience, we were asked to write, in free flow, to let out what was in us. Rosemary’s wise words, as I received them, came through:

 

firestorm

eagle nest
beaver dam
broken and whole
sawdust
 
conversation
 
self and selfless
ice and snow
grass and green
onion shoots
 
conversation
 
evidence of animals
not seen
fire and rebirth
not destruction
 
conversation
 
the flames are on
the lee side
when the wind 
blows strong
 
amid the firestorm

 

I recognize this experience with Rosemary at Lake Minnewanka as THE point in my life where I learned to listen.

And then, in my living room, I noticed the name of a river that feeds the lake:

Cascade.

______

These two wilderness experiences have provided me with space into which I can expand into myself, and in so doing I expand my capacity to listen to the world within and around me, and to listen to me within me, and around me.  One experience was quick, the other longer in duration; both significant.

______

Synchronicity.

  1. The simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection.

(Note  – above from Oxford Dictionary)

______

Noticing synchronicity is an invitation to explore a non-linear world. Noticing synchronicity is noticing a portal into deeper understanding of self, and our relationship with others and our places. It isn’t about explanation, but it is about understanding.

The synchronicity – having the word “cascade” pop into my consciousness as it did – invited me into a conversation with myself about the meaning of the word “cascade” in my life. The result of this conversation with myself is this post. I can see that the wilderness quest naturally flowed from my experience with Rosemary. Even though it was years later, I can see the trajectory; I can see a series of cascading events. The synchronicity is in how I happened upon the word “cascade” on the random map on the coffee table.

I’m betting that these synchronicities, the wild and the cascading, will be foundations for more synchronicities.

What synchronicities are you noticing in your life? How do you explore them?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wild synchronicity

 

Synchronicity is the Universe tapping you on the shoulder, inviting you to notice what resonates with you. It’s a portal into your deeper self.

Three things are tapping me on the shoulder:

  1. Three weeks ago I was in the middle of a wilderness quest; two days and two nights in the wild with no food. I am in the process of integrating this experience into my life – mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically. 
  2. As I fell asleep, for several nights after the wilderness quest, I could see clear images on my eyelids. A friend named this phenomenon: hypnagaia. With a little research, I found the acronym WILD. Wake Induced Lucid Dreams.
  3. While listening to David Whyte’s What to Remember While Waking, he speaks of the revelations we have where we no longer recognize ourselves, and the wilderness skills we need because we don’t recognize “home”.

As I weave these threads together, I see that the wilderness quest was a way to wake myself up – to me. I knew heading in to this experience that I wanted to crack myself open. I thought the crack would let light in, and what I would see would shake me up. I wanted to see what would come of it.

The wilderness quest crack is not only about letting light in – it is as much about letting my light out. It is about seeing things I have never seen before, and welcoming and integrating them into my very being. It is about waking up, everyday, any time of day. Being awake in every moment.

 

 

Earth gazing from Earth

 

A week ago today, I emerged from the wilderness at dawn after two days, two nights alone and fasting on a vision quest (see Rewire the reptilian, and Chronos + Kairos). It occurs to me today that this was a form of Earth gazing at many scales, from Earth rather than from space. I contemplated my self, my Higher Self and the nature of me and nature around me. I see today that I was contemplating my planet and my relationship with it.

*****

Earth gazing
 
Overview
a look at ourselves
a glance
at the dancing light of stardust
integrating interconnectedness
in space
already

This is a wee poem I caught while watching the Planetary Collective‘s trailer about the Overview Effect – humanity’s recent ability to see ourselves from a cosmic perspective. We have an emerging big picture view of ourselves. We live on a planet, and there are implications of this understanding for life on Earth.

The big change is that we now can see a unity of life that we could not see previously. Space travellers see a form of unity of life, of coherence. A oneness of consciousness. A delicate oasis in infinity. This understanding is crucial because who we are, our existence, is at stake. Our choices are made in a delicate balance that is destructive or sustainable. Says Apollo astronaut Edgar Mitchell:

We humans are responsible for ourselves.

*****

This little film tells us that much of astronauts’ spare time, while in space, is doing what they call Earth gazing. Not quite a meditation, but quiet time in awe.

We can’t all go into space – yet. But we can explore the wonder of our planet and open ourselves to a more full relationship with the fullness of our world.

How do you Earth gaze from Earth?

 

 

Let the pollen dust you

 

Let the pollen dust you

 

Don’t let incorporation fly away

let the pollen dust you, every day

with spouses, children, singing

singing full of gratitude

of land, of holding this way

deep in your heart, returning

celebrating home and her guides

her 108 ways of making space

in the extraordinary endless gifts

of life, hosted by nature

nurtured grief, receiving

the work of real people

flowing with Earth, as we ask

with purity of heart, with life

showing sacred life in life

overflowing, spirit guiding

growing the honour of listening

to readiness inherited

known and unknown

as we reach out for Earth

to do most of the work

 

what kind of tribe has no place?

 

the wanderers with stars in their eyes

and full hearts

 

the grouse dancer

the spirit leader

the irreverent ukulele lady

the nest maker

the deeply rooted

the cosmic life force

the freedom climber

the star traveler

the courageous heart of the sun saluter

the journeying medicine man

the spirit steward, of this land

 

 

** Caught at the closing circle, Cascadia Quest 2014

 

 

Chronos + Kairos

 

A quest begins before the quest itself.

Over the course of last week, I was tucked into the Eastern slopes of the Cascade Mountains in Washington, USA on a Wilderness Quest, with the support of Ann Linnea, Christina Baldwin and Deborah Greene-Jacobi. My intention was to rewire the reptilian in me, to awaken my whole being to what scarcity looks and feels like, so I could more fully see and appreciate – and embody – the abundance in life.

My drive to the Cascade Mountains was full of scarcity, and so began my learning journey.

Here’s what I did.

I wake Thursday morning to have breakfast with my husband and kids as they head off to work and school, then jump in my car to begin the 15 hour drive (the route: Edmonton, Crowsnest Pass, Fernie, Eastpoint border crossing, Spokane, Cascade Mountains).  At this end of the drive, I can move quickly and efficiently.  I can drive faster than 100km/hour, which means that I when I factor in the odd stop I can still travel on average 100km/hour. This was the case for the first 5 hours of my trip, on open highway.

As soon as I entered the Rocky Mountains at Crowsnest Pass, the highway goes through a series of towns and I am forced to drive slower. Once through the towns, I am forced to travel the speed of the slowest driver. When there is an opportunity to pass, I take it. I have a long drive ahead of me and I have to make best use of time. Moreover, I am keeping track of how much time I am ahead of my 100km/hour schedule. I am also noticing how I am losing time.  I hit a construction zone and have to sit for a while. I open my windows and enjoy the smell of the ponderosa forest, but truly, I am anxious about how long I will have to sit. I am losing time.

The hardest part was exactly where I knew it would be – in Idaho, north of Coeur d’Alene where there are traffic lights on the highway every mile. Then where the highway is in the middle of an urban area and the traffic crawls. I find myself appreciating all the transportation officials I have worked with in Alberta and Manitoba who limit the number of roads that have access to highways, allowing the free-flow movement of vehicles. I think to myself, if you are going to build a highway, let it be a highway.

It takes me 11.25 hours to cover 945km and reach Spokane, my stop for the night. Much less than my 100km/hour average that is my goal, or the 10.75 hours it should have taken according to Google. But I have arrived, found my hotel and the gym. I find some supper and go to the gym. I have a schedule to adhere to here too – I am training for a 200km bike ride in 2 months and I have been unable to train due to illness. I am at last well enough to get some time in on a bike. I find myself back on the treadmill for another 32 km.

Then back on the treadmill in the morning, for another 20 km, then a 4 hour drive to meet up with my fellow questers and guides.

And after all the rushing, and watching the clock, I find myself in beautiful Skalitude, nestled in green, lush mountains, longing to go for a walk and explore, but I don’t have the energy.  And during our free time the next day, I set up my tent for a nap in the warm sun; the perfect antidote to rushing in chronos time.

*****

Chronos = time. The passage of time. The measurement of time. Related words: chronology, chronometer, chronic, anachronism, chronicle.  Quantitative.  A specific amount of time. An day. An hour. A minute.  (Link to Wikipedia.)

Kairos = the right, or opportune moment in time. The supreme moment.  Qualitative. A moment. A season.  Crises that bring opportunity. The crucial time.  (Link to Wikipedia.)

*****

And in my exploration of chronos and kairos in Wikipedia, I come across Madeleine L’Engle, author of a book I read at about 12 years old that still resonates with me: A Wrinkle In Time. (A 1962 Newbery Medal winner that was rejected by publishers 30 times.) Her works are divided into chronos and kairos frameworks. The chronos stories take place in primarily realistic settings; the kairos books in realistic and magical settings. They are not separate worlds, for the characters travel in between…

*****

As I drive home, I find myself receiving the gift of time, of many, many moments, to simply be with myself.  The time the drive will take is the time the drive will take. And there is so much to notice along the way. Notice the conversations I have with myself. Notice when I feel like singing. Notice the birds that are shepherding me northwards, to home: the hawks, the raven on the Crowsnest Pass sign, the crows on fence posts, the pelicans on the lake where I had a picnic, the eagles all over the prairies. Notice all the little things that remind me of the people I explored the wilderness with for a week.

I camp by the Moyie River between the border and Cranbrook on my way home.  A swollen slumber. I get up in the morning, and after so much stillness, it is hard to move fast.

I settle in to travel in both chronos and kairos time, enjoying the abundance of moments.

The quest continues after the quest.

 

 

My neighbourhood speaks to me

 

Earlier this week, in Writing from the red chair, I relayed how I have found a bench along Edmonton’s river valley on which to sit and write.  The view is fantastic:

 

As I sit here I can hear the city and nature as well.  In the bottom of the valley, slightly to the left, I can see the river flowing through the city.  I feel the air float by and I can hear bird’s wings as they fly overhead.

Yesterday was a wet day in contract to today’s sun, but the power of sitting here at the edge of the city right in the middle of the city is remarkable.  It is as though the city just wants to tell me all about itself.

When I first came upon this bench I stepped in front of it to enjoy the view and very briefly read the inscription placed on it.

When I finished doing some morning stretching exercised (ITP Kata) and a little meditation on the edge of the bench, I sat in it and talked to myself.  I sorted out that I needed to be able to write here, not just talk.  I resolved to get a notebook a I stood up and prepared to leave.  Then I realized that I had read the inscription on the bench incorrectly.

Here is what it says:

Art is the expression of man’s delight in God’s work.  
 

I thought it said:

Art is the expression of God’s delight in man’s work.  
 

The game my mind played with the words made this little message jump out at me.  I have been musing about how I create the conditions for my creative self to flow freely. It may or may not be ‘art’ per se, but that doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter if I believe in God, a higher power, a Spirit, a Creator or the creative Essence of my Self.  These words are powerful.

Art is the expression of our delight in the world.

Art is the expression of our world’s delight in us.

The words are attributed to Bill Lumsden, 1928-1997.  I have neighbours with the surname Lumsden, and while I have no idea if they are related, I can’t imagine that they are not.  I felt as though my very neighbourhood was speaking to me, asking me to look at things and look again.  Take the meaning of something and see if there is even more meaning.

And take great delight in what I find.

And share what I find for your delight.

 

 

Writing from the red chair

I realized last night, as I was falling asleep at 12:05, that I had not posted a blog yesterday.  Since May 1, my commitment has been to post every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.  I have done that up until yesterday.

While I violated the specifics of my commitment, the intention was not broken.  I did write yesterday; I just wrote in a different place.  I think I just ended up outsmarting myself.

This last Sunday, while I was sitting on a bench overlooking the McKinnon Ravine in Edmonton, I made a decision to start writing to myself more.  As a way to talk to myself.  I also made a decision on Monday to go and get myself a little red notebook in which to do this.  A little red notebook that conjures a sacred red chair that I played in as a child under a big spruce tree.  A little red notebook in which I will write my Self’s wisdom to me.

Yesterday, I went to get this little notebook.  And last night I spent some time with it, following which I went to bed.  It completely threw me from my “blogging game”.  Totally, but meaningfully, distracted.

So I figure it is only fair to share with you what I was writing last night.

My little red notebook is when and where I choose to settle in and spend some time with myself, allowing the Essence of me to become more apparent to me.  My little red notebook is where I take the time to notice what I am noticing.  It is where I explore synchronicities and wonder at how the universe works.  Much of what pops up either in the little red notebook, or what I write in other places that are in the spirit of the little red notebook will show up in my blog.  I have made a decision to share more writing that is personal in nature, trusting that what I explore within me also has a place in the world outside me.

My intention is to more fully align my inner perspective with how I show up in the world.  The only way to do this is to very explicitly share my inner journey with the outside world, and writing here feels like a wonderful place to do this.  I trust that writing here, sharing what I write while I write it, will help me find others operating on the same ‘frequency’ so that we can join in our explorations together.

I will call this my writing from the red chair.