Spring and new life

A bright soul made her way quickly into the world on May 15. Claire Wooldridge was born on her due date, a healthy 7 lbs, 8 oz. Mom and baby are doing well. I haven't met her yet, knowing that Catherine needs time to adjust and there will be plenty of time to get to know Claire.

Colin's parents are in town, visiting with their newest grand daughter. I'm delighted to have a chance to visit with them as I'm hosting a BBQ they're attending. Its inevitable that during this time thoughts of Colin would be making themselves felt. I remind myself to keep breathing and accept that missing him so acutely will pass. It astounds me that living with grief can be so difficult at times that it takes my breath away. I take solace in the fact that as humans our capacity for grief and pain is also matched by our ability for joy, happiness and love. I try to remember those positive moments when sadness has me in its heavy grip. I hope that I can continue to integrate the growing awareness of the impermanence of it all.

New life is also growing in my garden, its gratifying to see the small shoots of radishes and spinach push their way up to greet the sun. My composter is happily composting, leaves from my lilac bushes are starting to appear. Sean loves working in the yard and its fun to be out there with him.

On a completely unrelated note I became enamoured with flat screen TVs and not because I particularly like watching TV. I've lived happily without cable for 7 years. Nope, my attitude changed dramatically one day when, by accident I noticed that Tom's flat screen TV had a small slot that took SD Memory cards, the kind you put in your camera. The kind that were sporting all my photos of Bhutan. I thought I was going to have to copy my Bhutan images over to his Mac so he could see them. Instead there we were looking at them in 42" of high definition Glory. Fucking amazing I have to say. Since that day a seed was born in my mind. Not unlike the new growth in my garden the idea of displaying photos on my own TV was germinating. One afternoon I walked into London Drugs to buy some photo paper, walking by all the TVs displaying the panoramic shows designed to take full advantage of their high definition capabilities. Normally I walk by without a second glance unless the show being displayed has mountains or something else I like to admire, being caught in the technicolour grasp for moments before continuing on my reason for being in the store in the first place. But this time I zero in on something else I love to see... a sale sign! Last year's model of Panasonic TVs were on sale. After humming and hawing, doing some research on the internet, bringing in my memory card to see what the photo quality was like, and more vacillating, I made the decision to buy a TV. Then I find that only the floor model was left of the 42". More head scratching, and considerations... they wouldn't drop the price but offered a longer warranty, but how many hours had this TV been operating? I opted for the next option, the same TV but in a whopping 50" format (and more money of course), which they did have in stock. Wholly mother of god, this TV is BIG. I'm an unabashedly proud gear junkie when it comes to climbing and outdoor gear but this interest hasn't extended to electronics that much. OK I do have a kick ass Mac computer that is damn sexy, but TVs haven't been on the list. In fact I could go so far to say that I've had an aggressive dislike of TV and all it represents in our culture. A drug that mollifies the masses with aggressive advertising to keep us compliant and relentless consumers. I've kept a TV to watch movies.

To find myself excited about bringing electronic equipment home felt weird in a way. I felt guilty to be dancing to the pied piper song of "Buy... buy...". My reticence evaporated when I saw my first photo on my new purchase. I love this quote by Groucho Marks "I have ethics, but if you don't like them I have others" I've sold my soul to the flat screen high definition Devil, he would look good on my TV too, the reds would be fantastic.

So now I'm grinning like an idiot looking at this 50" High Definition Plasma TV that is residing in my living room. I'm not the only happy camper, nephew Sean is doing the happy dance too. But my smile is from the fact that my Bhutan photos are even better than when I first saw them on Tom's TV. Speaking of Tom I also have a darn nice surround sound theatre speaker system too. He deemed my lack of audio equipment unacceptable when he lived with me and gifted me with the system. So here I am, a non TV watcher with a system that would make a technophile drool with envy. Well perhaps a lower to mid technophile since I've been shocked to discover the amount of money one can sink into a"home entertainment system" if you want the cutting edge technology.

I'm hosting a few slideshows of Bhutan and it will be awesome to show them on the new TV. As a designer I care about visuals and the wow factor when doing so - I ain't gonna lie!

I smile when I think of photos of Claire being shown large scale by her proud new aunty. The shots of her with food on her face, in the tub and perhaps when she grabs her first handhold on the bouldering wall. New life and high definition electronics working together, who would have thunk? :-)

Extreme Gardening

Who needs climbing, the challenge of the ascents, the mental toughness, the endurance? All I needed to do was stay in my backyard and garden, who would have thunk?

Last week I embarked on the task of getting my garden ready for planting. I didn't have a garden last year so that gave the plot time to fallow and it was patiently waiting to be the bringer of new life and scrumptious veggies for Lise. Or so I thought. In actual fact the area of dirt had an entire year to compact down into a cement like substance with weeds tougher than Clint Eastwood and the same bad attitude.  My nemesis by far was the Quack Grass. What the fuck is up with their root structure? Look, after 4 evenings and 1 full day on the weekend dealing with those weeds you'd swear too. I used to think dandelions were difficult... whatever. With 1 or 2 good digs of the shovel I was down to the simple roots of the dandelions. Quack grass had managed to infiltrate every edge around the garden including underneath my cement blocks in the front of garden and these very big, very heavy cement paving stones at the back that were already 1 foot into the dirt as a barrier between the garden and fence - to keep out weeds of course. Very big and very heavy cement blocks that I dug down to the base of. I managed to slide them over and sort of grab, push, pull, swear, try something different, swear some more and eventually get them out of their spots so I could dig for the Quack grass and pull on its roots till I found them extending almost the length of the garden and underneath the adjacent cement block. This was slow, manual labour getting me dirty, sweating, sore, tired. I want to go and buy all the gardening magazines that tout gardening as this *relaxing* activity, aligning with nature yada yada. I want to take all those mags and gleefully burn them for lying to the general public. 

However, under threats of raining skies I got the area ready for planting. At one point I realized I needed spinach in the garden. I would regret not planting spinach if I was too lazy to go get it. So dirty and disheveled I headed to Canadian Tire. I didn't even bother to clean the dirt off my knees and I was fairly certain I had dirt on my face. I had no time for trivialities, my objective was to have everything planted by the end of the day, I was racing against time dammit.

I cringe abit when I think that my approach to gardening wasn't at all Buddhist or Shamanic. I took way too much glee when I found the end of the roots on some quack grass. When I pulled up the roots I sometimes would raise up my hand like I just made a touch down or else I would voice my happiness to the plant; Die you suckah!!! This was Lise against the weeds Mano-eh-mano. I don't think I'm headed for enlightenment anytime soon.

But it was fun to be a gardener again. In my *previous life* when I was married I was an avid gardener. At the time it was all plants, annuals, perennials, grasses. I remember fondly when I would mull over gardening magazines wondering what paradise I could create outside.

Something changed all that. I swung an ice axe. That's the simplest way to explain it. Climbing caught me and never let go. Other pursuits like gardening and golf got dropped or I slowed down considerably. I did plant a garden one year, but other than that I haven't had much interest in some activities I used to love.

This summer I knew I wanted to have a garden and was prepared to devote the time to it. I did most of the digging after work and had dedicated the whole Sunday. "As long as it would take" I had told myself. 

My body and whiplash hasn't appreciated the digging and moving around with shovels full of dirt. But I figured it was worth some discomfort, that's what the Robaxasol and a glass of wine are for. I'm expecting my whiplash to fade as I get back into much better shape, along with plenty of visits to physio, massage and acupunture. I am surprised how long its taking although most people warned me it might take this long. I'm also aware that the stress of the last 6 months hasn't helped.

Once the garden was ready to be planted I do admit I got into it the whole process. Pulling these tiny seeds out of the package knowing they were going to feed me. With the feeling of the dirt under my hands, I placed them down and gave small prayers for fast growth, tastiness and my appreciation of their give-away to me in the future. The feeling of what I used to enjoy about gardening was present. I realized that as much as I love climbing I'm rediscovering other things that are giving me a different kind of pleasure (writing included) and I appreciate the balance.

Energy has shifted since Bhutan. It feels like I have more space inside, space to enjoy a variety of experiences. Since returning my relationships have changed, some ending and some starting. Today I found out that my work is changing dramatically with it being divided into two separate companies. All of us in corporate groups will have to go to one company or the other so I have no idea what will happen to me.  I'm taking everything in but I'm not that attached to the outcome which feels like an unfamiliar but good space to be in.

I get a shiver up spine as I realize that my intent and prayers in Bhutan are being felt. Incredibly quicker than I could have expected. I know that my shamanism the past 7 years has given me the ability to make changes in my life fairly quickly and I actively use that ability. From the outside I know it could look like I was lucky or one could site factors. But I know that I have some good shamanic mojo that works when you know what you're doing. Shamanism was around a hell of a lot longer than the movie "The Secret" (I didn't like the movie). However its still a shock when things start happening dramatically.

How does this relate to gardening? I'm not really sure but I enjoyed the tangent. :-) Oops maybe that celebratory wine and Robaxacol are having an effect........

I'm relieved that my garden is planted. I am getting such a kick knowing that life is growing out there even as I write this. Which makes me think of compost (don't ask me why)... for many years I had what I now consider an unhealthy relationship to composting. I loved it too much. I had 2 composters for more effectiveness and once it produced new dirt I felt like a proud mother. I was cruising Jugo Juice for what composters would consider "mana from the heavens", the used up vegetables and fruits. Since all the fruit and veggies are all ready mulched it turns into what I called "liquid gold" which turns into dirt far faster and is nutrient rich, oh ya baby!! The girl at the store would look me weird but hand over a big bag.  Apparently my love for compost is still alive and well since, when I remembered that I've had leaves and grass composting naturally for 2 years along the side of the fence, I started to get all excited. I pulled up the covering of old leaves to find cubic feet of pure virgin compost full of worms making the soil extra special. It was heaven when I dug into that and mixed it with my garden. And now I'm thinking about composting again, like I need to nurture 2 obsessions.

I will wrap up my gardening story since I could write plenty more about composting and that would get kind of weird. Suffice to say that I experienced my day on a couple levels and, I got a good workout in, I won a war with the weeds, and soon I'll have an organic salad to show for it!

A Bhutan Memory

I don't think of my trip to Bhutan in a chronological order of events, so instead I have experiences that are staying fresh in my memory which indicates to me that they should be written about.

I was on Day 10 of my trek through western Bhutan when we reached the remote village of Laya. I was starting to get into the rhythm of Bhutan and my trek. Breathing had grown easier at altitude, and my legs were accustomed to walking uphill. Our hike into Laya was supposed to be one of the easiest days with only 60m of elevation gain which one would think would be almost flat when that elevation gain is spread over the 10km distance. But as I had been finding, the guidebook description was not always my experience and this day was a good example. The day before had been technically our hardest day reaching the highest pass of 5003 metres and I had felt strong. This day I was finding the up and down of the trail tiring, it felt like we were trekking faster and I was ready for the hiking to be over for that day. Perhaps a bit of a lower key feeling after the euphoria and emotion of the day before. The work felt worth it though when I saw the village of Laya below me. It's nestled against the Himalayan mountains and as I was standing there on the trail I felt like I had been transported into a National Geographic documentary.

Sonam had told me that he had arranged for me to spend the night in a farmer's home. I had two feelings about this. One: that culturally this was an exciting opportunity and was feasible because I was travelling alone. And two: there could be a chance I would be sleeping in close proximatey with farm animals and this might be a rustic and sleepless experience. You just never know what to expect when travelling in a third world country. But in the spirit of adventure I was looking forward to it.

Walking around the village displayed that Laya may be remote but was quite prosperous and there was plenty of construction of new homes going on. The large three storie house where I was staying looked nice from the outside.

It was obvious that Sonam had a warm relationship with the farm couple. For his treks he hires the gentleman and his pack horses for our final 4 day journey. Once we got to the village we were ushered up the narrow stairs and into the kitchen of their home. This was my first time in a Bhutanese farm house, but based on other third world countries I had visited it was sort of what I thought it might be. Sparse, with a small wood stove in the centre of the room. The ceilings and sides of the wall were blackened with smoke although the stove did have a pipe venting out through the ceiling. The door of the stove was open so there was some smoke back drafting into the kitchen which gave it the smell of burning wood and made my eyes water. There were a few plastic chairs, a small table and open shelves that had food, house supplies, some dishes. I was reminded of how much excess we have in North America and how different the distribution of wealth was. I was offered butter tea and cookies. I had tried butter tea once while on my trek and had found it greasy and made me abit queezy. But that was at higher altitude when nothing tasted very good so I figured I would try it again as I didn't want to refuse the offer of hospitality. The worst case scenario was that I would choke it down. I still expected it to be far more palatable than the fermented horse milk I had drank while sitting in a ger in Mongolia or the pulpy banana beer sipped out of a communal bucket in Tanzania.

The tea was not as rich this time. The familiar taste of butter had a comforting effect although I was still aware that while my tastebuds didn't mind it, my stomach might, so I sipped slowly and declined a refill. As I surveyed the somewhat dark kitchen I was formulating a mental picture of where I would be sleeping. There were no animals meandering about so I decided this wouldn't be so bad afterall. The farm woman was amiable and gracious, her and Sonam struck up a lively conversation. I asked if I could take photos of her and she was delighted, and smiled when I showed her what I had taken. She shyly motioned if I wanted to buy her hat (a very interesting woven pointy hat that most of the Laya women wear), remembering that the Lonely Planet Guide cautioned against buying the hats if they were made with precious family beads and this one was, I declined, and she smiled again as if she didn't really expect me to buy it anyhow.

Namgay my cook was bringing up my bag. I cringed when I saw anyone struggling with my large awkward duffel bag. I hadn't given enough thought to being lightweight and compact as I knew horses would be carrying it. I failed to remember that people would have to carry the bag too. He was lugging the duffel up the narrow stairs and to the landing, the kitchen was on the left hand side and he veered right with me following behind him. As we walked through the door I was abit surprised, I was now in a living room. There were carved and lacquered side tables, photos of the king on the wall, and an area where people sat to listen to the radio. Family photos were interspersed with photos of Lamas and brightly coloured rugs covered a bench for sitting. It had a warm and friendly feel to it and I was pleasantly surprised as it looked like the obvious place where I would spend the night. However, Namgay wasn't slowing down and he pulled aside a brighly woven piece of cloth in front of an entryway and kept moving beyond this threshold. I was looking down to walk over the raised wood so was unaware initially of what I had stepped into.

Then I looked up and my breath stopped. I was in a sea of colour, tapestries, coloured flags, flowers, cakes, metal bowls, money, photos of the Dhali Lama and others. I was standing in a Buddhist Shrine. The transition from the dark and utilitarian kitchen to this sacred space had a disorienting effect on me. I looked at Namgay who had happily dropped my heavy bag and was leaving the room, on to more important things like preparing lunch. I was standing there wondering if there was a mistake of some sort. I couldn't be allowed to sleep in a shrine room could I? I had no idea that this space would be found in a farm house. I was standing there alone, trying to take in the visual sight and wondering what to do.

Sonam came in and I looked at him and said "Am I sleeping here?" He smiled and said yes and began to pull a couple mats and place some rugs over them for me. I think he was watching to see what my reaction would be, knowing the importance of this place. I sensed his pride that he could show this to an outsider, a special glimpse into his country. I looked around and said "does everyone have a room like this?" He looked at me like I had asked a very obvious question that could equate with "Does everyone in Canada have a TV and Telephone?" This culture shock was still bewildering me, that every home would have a space dedicated to worship. Not just a small area but an entire room. Given the look of the rest of the home I could tell that many of the items in the shrine would be expensive by Bhutan standards. I realized that if I hadn't seen this room my experience of the farm house and the family would have been much different. They choose to spend their monatery wealth in ways not readily apparent.

I was standing amidst the colour and gentle energy of the the shrine room with the gratitude that I was going to be able to sleep here. The opportunity to spend an evening in this sacred space felt like a gift. As the daylight began to fade I could see the flicker of light from the butter lamp casting movement on the ornate image of the Buddha. Soon the room was in complete darkness and I lay in my sleeping bag watching the dance of light.

I began to think about my last 10 days in Bhutan. How much I had been praying to the Buddha and the other boddhisatvas to show me a path that I could begin learn to transcend what I was carrying, my attachment to what was and my attachment to the fact that I desperately wanted my friend Colin back. There had been movement for sure, I had cried plenty of tears and began to feel that things stuck inside of me were beginning to move, shift and give space for peace and perhaps acceptance. I was grateful to feel this space, to know that while I wasn't able to stay there long, it was a place I could look forward to visiting again and one day take up permanent residence. It felt like the shrine room was giving me a physical experience of what peace and acceptance could look, smell and feel like. A mirroring of what could be found inside of myself. This isn't about a conversion to Buddhism but the feeling that there are benevolent forces at work. My prayers had been heard and it didn't matter if it was Buddha, Jesus or Great Spirit, I was just happy that someone or something was listening.

Before we left the next day I gave the farm woman some small gifts which I hoped she would appreciate. A small tin of Canadian maple syrup which I had to have Sonam translate what it was and what you would use it for. I'm not sure she understood but I hope that she at least tries it so it doesn't just sit on her shelf, that would be a waste of good syrup! I also gave her a small Canadian flag pin along with abit of money. The gifts seemed small compared the experience I had but I was happy that I could give back in a small way.

Bhutan is a rare country, not perfect by any standards, but continuing to operate on principles that much of the world has considered irrelevant. It has the ailments of most third world countries but there is pride in a country that has never been colonized or conquered. I sensed a inner steadiness of a people who base their happiness on buddhist values while still juggling the pressures of the outside world.

This memory feels like a precious gem that I can keep in my pocket and hold at any moment and I know that I'll find more. Bhutan was as I secretly hoped it would be.

Ticks and Leeches

Supposedly all of god's creatures have a purpose but really, do we need the Tick? And what about those leeches, I would like to know what their intrinsic value is. Yesterday I was climbing in the Bow Valley with Tom. We had an awesome day out, we caught up on our lives while we were approaching our climb. No one else was at the Crag and we had great fun taking turns leading sport climbs. We were back at his place and I was showing him photos of Bhutan. I started to scratch the back of my neck and felt something...... my heart sank because I knew what I was grabbing, a god damn TICK. They are really vile little insects that, given enough time will start to burrow into your skin and have a feast on you and maybe infect you with Lyme desease. They are very difficult to remove once they have imbedded into your skin. This little bastard was still crawling around but it gave me the heebeejeebees thinking about how long it had been crawling on my body.  I let Tom know right away "Jesus, I have a TICK on me!!" In a blink of an eye he was peeling his shirt and pants off! I was annoyed with myself that I have forgotten to do a Tick check once we got back to the car, tis the season for them.

I stayed over at his place and the next morning he says to me, "You'll never guess what I found this morning". Immediately I said "not a god damn Tick" it's really hard to even say the word Tick with using some sort of expletive. Sure enough in the morning he said he felt something behind his knee and there was a tick crawling around. He had already checked himself, had a shower in the evening when we got back to his place so we weren't sure where the tick came from. He wonders if the Tick was on his clothes and managed to crawl on the bed.... eeeeetbbblbllliiick!! Who knows, but it makes my skin crawl if I think about it too much.

So the other creature I will happily kill is the leech. My last night of camping on my Bhutan trek we were at a much lower elevation and it started to rain. My guide Sonam mentioned leeches which again, got the skin crawling. Namgay the cook was sprinkling salt around my tent but I was still weirded out as I knew at some point in the night I was going to have to leave the tent to pee. (I was completely done with peeing in a Nalgene bottle in the night)  It rained all night so I knew my ring of salt would be gone.

In the morning I was reading in my tent with most of the flaps open since it was warm and humid. (I kept the mesh portions zipped) when I noticed the leech attached to the inside of my vestibule. Leeches are connected to my childhood. I was terrified to stay in shallow water when we spent time at our cabin at the lake. I knew there were leeches in the water so I would usually run out into the lake and head for deeper water as fast as I could. Needless to say I was not happy when I saw the leech perched inside my vestibule. Like the Tick they are damn hard to kill but for different reasons. Ticks have an indestructable outer shell, yet leeches are all soft and squishy. How do you crush something that has no skeleton?

As much as I love the outdoors there are some of natures creatures I actively dislike. It wouldn't be so bad if they left me alone. Take spiders for instance. Many people don't like spiders but I'm fairly neutral to them. As long as they're not jumping on me I reckon, live and let live. And snakes, snakes rarely hurt people unless accidentally stepped on. Ticks and Leeches are both parasitic and will seek you out to have a lunch. yuk!