A short update on the life and times of myself. I’m in the last few frantic hours of getting everything ready to depart. As I type, the last load of laundry is washing, tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s lunch and dinner is on the stove, and I’m working on the last minute assignment things to get as much done as possible before leaving.
Tomorrow I’ll take the ferry over to Vancouver to stay the night before flying out just after noon on Thursday. We’re down to about 40 hours on the countdown!
…its Monday.
The question that I usually ask myself about now is “Where did the weekend go?”
It was stunningly gorgeous this weekend. I took a ferry to Vancouver Friday afternoon and basked in sunshine on the outer deck the entire way. My reading and enjoyment of the outdoors was momentarily interrupted by a whale sighting (“Attention passengers, we will be passing some killer whales on the starboard side” “Starboard side? Starboard side?!?! Where is the starboard side??” “Relax. You’re on the starboard side.” = Infestation of every single passenger on board, blocking my sunshine and view.). But, I did get a tan (I have sandal lines to prove it!) and I did enjoy my book.
Yesterday, enjoying the continuing sunshine (for part of the day), the fact that I had finished my paper for the week the previous day, and Victoria Harbour Ferries free rides all morning, I harbour ferry hopped and then wandered markets and shops. After obtaining a hot, soy mocha from one of my favourite coffee standards in the Cook Street Village, I sat on a bench over-looking the ocean and Olympic mountains, reading some more.
Today: it rained and was overcast and muggy. And it fit my mood: I had to work. Goodbye weekend.
What do the above have in common?
Nothing, actually, that I know of. I just encountered all today, in reverse order of the title.
The day began with a trip to the dentist. It was time for my annual check-up and I made sure the hygienist was aware of the molestation my gums have received in past visits. Result: I left without sore or bleeding gums, plus a new toothbrush and floss. She was new, which may account for her being a little easier on me, but apparently whatever I am doing is working because I got high praise all around and even managed to get in a plug for my favourite, natural toothpaste (no more chemicals for me, thanks, especially after reading stuff here.)
Then, it was coffee down near Cadboro Bay with a friend. The sun was shining, it was warm hot, and we sat outside. I only just managed to wait the requisite 30-45 minutes after fluoride for eating/drinking.
After a couple hours in the sunshine, it was a short bike ride to meet a new classmate. A girl in Victoria (who is friends with some friends of mine – small world!) just started my program, so we had tea and chatted about our backgrounds, what we want to do with our degrees, challenges of the program, and random other psych-geek stuff. It was pretty great.
Now, I’m at home. I’ve been at home for a few hours. I have not accomplished any homework. But, the sun is shining, the Habs are still in the playoffs, I’m going to Vancouver tomorrow for a birthday party, and I just drank a fruit smoothie: all is right with the world.
I ended up going to Vancouver this weekend. It was grey and overcast, misting here and there, so the crowds weren’t as huge as they could have been.
I loved walking around downtown Vancouver and seeing clusters of people around televisions in storefronts. At one point, we passed the Bell Pavilion and there were about 25 people standing outside watching the Gold Medal game for Women’s Curling. Canada scored a point and the crowed erupted.
I was outside watching the big screen with many others as Canada’s men beat the Slovaks and advance with the gold medal game. The skytrain stations were nuts – all you needed to do was yell “Go Canada” and the place would erupt.
This afternoon, I had symphony tickets for a concert that began before the Gold Medal Men’s Hockey game was over. I was late – I watched until the end of regulation time and decided I couldn’t deal with overtime so I went to the concert. At the intermission, an usher whispered to one person that Canada had won and soon everyone was clapping. I checked my phone, and sure enough, a text message: “Crosby scored in OT. We won.”
After intermission, the conductor walked on stage and, before he had even reached his podium to introduce the next piece, the percussion began to play. Soon the entire 40-piece symphony was standing and playing O Canada. The audience stood and sang along. Leaving the theatre, suddenly there were people on streets that had previously been empty. Car horns were honking and people were waving flags and shouting.
Suddenly, a country that is proud, but reserved and quiet, is not ashamed to show their pride in a real, in-your-face sort of way. Any statistic that can be shown to promote Canada and exclaim our brilliance has been promoted by CTV and other news. Canadians have taken to the streets en masse proclaiming their pride in their athletes and their countries. Humble national pride? No, now we are a loud and proud country. And we rule the hockey rink.
Oh, Canada.
I’m sitting at home, watching the Opening Ceremonies (reprised) on NBC – the CTV one is just re-starting and I don’t need to start at the very beginning and see all the athletes walk in again. (Amusing side note, on NBC, they show where each country is in relation to the USA… for the geographobes down there?)
Despite all of my reluctance to support the Olympics, I can’t help but feel that there is a party going on in Vancouver that I am missing – not that I (antisocial me) has ever had qualms about missing a party before. I’ve always liked to think that I take great opportunities when they present themselves. Will I regret not going to see some of the events if I hide on the Island for the next few weeks? Of course the opposite side of that is whether or not I will be so incredibly frustrated with the crowds that I don’t enjoy any time there. I don’t know. I guess I have a couple weeks to decide.
Christmas, New Westminster
So what if it is January 3 and it has taken me this long to write anything about the new year. Aside from a New Years Eve party that continued until 2am, it feels like the new year has entered with more of a fizzle than a pop; it seems no different than last week.
If anything, I’m more stressed than I was last week.
The next course starts tomorrow and I’ve already been doing readings in preparation for it. Gone are the days when I bought the text book a week or two into the course and read it the day before the final exam. I seem to be working more this week than I have in previous weeks and I have meetings. With the busy advent season over (does anyone else find it ironic that our two church seasons of slowing down and contemplation – advent and lent – seem to the be the busiest time in the church calendar?) meetings that were put on hold are starting up once again. Now is when I discover just how busy I will be with various committees and commitments.
Is it more helpful to look ahead or to dwell in the moment? Some would remind that looking ahead prepares one for what is to come. It can also cause undue anxiety. Others suggest that to dwell in the moment and live each day for what it offers without looking too far ahead (consider the lilies of the field…?) is the supreme way to live ones life. I find that a good balance of the two works well… usually…
What, then, am I looking forward to this year?
I had lofty ambitions, after being chastized by a friend for my lack of posting, to get right back into the swing of things. For good or for bad, I got used to not posting much this summer – a lack of Internet access in Kenya and on a boat will do that for you. No excuses! I am back on land and have free wireless at home and at every second coffee shop; there really is no excuse for me. I like to think that I am out of practice and need to get back into the habit of transcribing everyday occurrences for the general public to read. Because you are all interested in my eating habits and traveling adventures, right?
As I type this, I am sitting in a coffee shop on W 4th in Vancouver. Beside me is a stimulating Americano, my current poison of choice. I’m in Vancouver for the weekend to spend some time with good friends before school starts on Tuesday and to meet my boyfriend (HOLD ON, stop the train… boyfriend?!?… yes. More on that someday) as he returns tomorrow from a two and a half trip to the States.
Truth be told, I have had some interesting ideas for blogging lately; a rant on how my doctor prescribes medication, how my school begins next week, and so on. But, something else keeps coming up. Like school starting next week. I’ve been labouring under the false assumption for some time now that my course would begin when every other school in the country begins: after Labour Day. Last week, I discovered that no, it begins on September the first. Before school starts, I have six chapters from two different text books to read plus a multitude of online readings. Fortunately, I long ago mastered the art of the skim-read. I just assumed that everyone skim-read their text books, however a message from our prof for the first course indicates otherwise: “Because the work is intensive, and because you’re at a master’s level here, you won’t be able to read as you did in undergrad – reading every detail, preparing to memorize for exams. Here, you’ll have to read quickly, and you do that by skimming, stopping on what you don’t know – not reading & memorizing every detail, but rather grasping the gist of things so that you can apply it.” At least I already have practice.
So now that I am back at school, I suppose we can all look forward to more frequent posting as I sit for hours at a time at my computer and have the opportunity to practice my finest procrastination techniques. Until then, I am going to enjoy my last few days of “freedom” and get back to wandering W4th.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on the subject of community lately. The thoughts have been stimulated by life decisions I’ve had as of late, by conversations overheard and conversations with friends, books I’ve been reading, and observations of the world around me. Now that I have begun to think about it, I see references to community everywhere.
As some are aware, I had the opportunity to volunteer in Kenya for three months this summer. One of the (many) reasons for deciding against going was because of the community I am finally feeling a part of here and my reluctance to break away from that right now. After a number of years of transient life, I seem to be craving an integral part in a healthy land-based community.
What is it about community that compels us and draws us in? Over and over when I was living and working on the Pacific Grace we were confronted with trainees returning year after year to the program. One of the interesting things we found is that it was the community which drew them: crew changes on a regular basis, the boat itself isn’t enough of a draw (it is a hard life on the boat for many trainees – up early in the morning, doing dishes, no showers, no [shock, horror] Facebook…), but the consistent thread is the welcoming community rooted firmly in God. It is this community which draws trainees back year after year and gives then a sense of being loved and known.
This type of community, that which welcomes everyone regardless of physical or mental weakness and ascribes worth and value to each human, is the premise of Jean Vanier’s book Becoming Human which I just finished re-reading. If you haven’t gone out and read it yet, you should. [Aside: There have been two great posts on the blog Faith and Theology in the last week or so involving Vanier’s L’Arche communities here and here.]
Two weekends ago, I visited a good friend in Vancouver. We first met ten years ago in high school when her family moved to town for her mother to take up a teaching position at our school. As principal, Dad invited their family over for a bbq one evening and, as the daughter the same age as the new family’s daughter, I took her on a long bike ride through the coulees. She likes to relate this story and tell everyone that I tried to kill her. Not so. We have kept in touch, some times better than others, over the last decade. When she was tree planting up in northern BC, she would stay with us on days off. When I moved to Victoria I became friends with her best friend, not knowing they were friends. Somehow (and, I think, for good reason), life has kept us connected. Both of us have had a number of major life experiences in the last few years. Mine involved living in intense community on the boat for a period of time and then finding myself on shore without it and craving it. Hers involved a campervan pilgrimage around the east coast seeking to understand how others do community and interact with society around them. In the end we have both settled in BC in various types of communities. I had the privilege to step into hers for 24hrs.
The HOB is a house of five girls living in East Vancouver. They have a fantastic community house in which the care they have for each other is genuinely evident. I began to journal my thoughts on community while I was with them. They have community meals weekly and spend time praying with and for each other as well as holding each other accountable. Entering their community house, I immediately felt relaxed and welcomed, as though I had known all of the girls for years. (And they put me to work in the morning making pancakes as though I had known them for years…) It was a refreshing feeling and the resulting 24hrs was the precise downtime and recharge that I needed. All of our living spaces should be like that.
On a long public transit ride home two weeks ago, I was reading Jean Vanier while eavesdropping on a conversation going on between two people on the other side of the bus. The conversation began with them finding out why the other was on the long bus ride from downtown Vancouver out to the ferry. The guy was describing to the girl that he had come over to Vancouver for the weekend to meet with a Swami who was in town. He continued to tell the girl about some of his experiences with the Swami and yoga and life pertaining to the two. One thing they discussed was a farm he had spent time at where 18-30 year olds can go to spend time within an ” intentional community” – his phrase. After my weekend in Vancouver, this phrase made me perk up and listen all the more intently. This community he was so enthusiastic about was a Buddhist community but the phrasing he used and the ideas he was sharing about could have come out of the mouth of any Christian. It struck me, listening to them talk and get excited about that kind of lifestyle, that yearning for community is not restricted to any one faith or national group. Christians do not have a corner on the community market. After all, isn’t it this community aspect that draws people towards cults in the first place?
It seems that this desire for community is hardwired into us. It is, after all, how we have lived for thousands of years. It is the model we see in the life of Jesus and that of the early church (see, for example, Acts where the believes all live together and take care of each other). It strikes me, therefore, that this is an opportunity for us as Christians to excel and meet a real and expressed need in the world around us. People desire community. We have in our possession the ultimate model of what healthy community looks like so why are we not more front-and-centre in providing it? What an opportunity it could be to show the world that the teachings of Jesus actually work.
It also leads me to wonder at why, if so many seem so hungry for genuine, intentional community, are we not living like that? Are we so caught up in our Western way of life that we cannot break out of it into something we all yearn for? Have we suppressed our desire for so long that we no longer recognize it? It is entrenched; we are trapped in a cycle we cannot get out of and everyone is so caught that no one wants to make the first move. Or, we are so individualistic that we don’t even know anymore if anyone else thinks like us.
As usual, I have more thoughts and questions than answers on the subject. However, I do believe that Christians and the church can and should lead the way in the example of what real community looks like. By creating places of community that are open and welcoming to all, we not only provide the solution to a need the world has expressed, but we follow the life and model of Jesus, the one we are called to exemplify.
I’ve made it back to Victoria and it took a record 6 hours. I probably could have flown across the country in that time period.
gillian's island 