Exciting news… My ten answers to the famous Inside the Actors Studio questions have been posted, with a twist… inside the yoga studio.
Warning, these responses are not for the faint of heart! Or men named Dick. But they have been approved by the YogaBC moderator!
Fire is the element of the east, the direction of springtime. When I first sat in circle at the Wilderness Guides Council, on Monday, April 13, I deliberately sat in the east. This is a part of the wheel that I am least comfortable in. Magic happens here, and the unpredictable, for it is in this direction that old forms are broken down so that something new can emerge. It is the direction of creativity, death and rebirth, and has the gift of vision of the eagle flying high in the sky.
I am typically more comfortable in the west, the place of introspection and 
darkness. So it felt risky to take my place in the east and own this part of my spirit. There were about 25 guides sitting in the circle, and I listened as they discussed the business of our annual meeting. Things like the budget and who would be carrying on which duties in the year to come. They have a “mask of the ancestors,” and one of the duties is to be the keeper of the mask. It is made out of the pelvic bone of a large animal, and is decorated with feathers and beads. The meeting lasted a long time—about 5 hours—and about 4 hours into it one of the feathers blew off the mask and landed in my lap. It was an orange flicker feather—which I have written about previously in this blog. This was the first magical gift of the east. It seemed like a blessing and confirmation that I am a member of this group. The ancestors confirmed it. And my own heart did too—sitting listening to these people who care about each other, the earth, and the sacred ceremony of the vision fast, I felt my own desire to continue on through time with these people. The gift of the feather confirmed it. I put the feather in my emergency kit, which I always carry with me when I’m out on the land. May it keep all the fasters safe!
After the Wilderness Guides Council (of North America) gathering ended, we had about 24 hours to prepare the grounds for the International Wilderness Guides Gathering—a week-long gathering of guides from around the world. I helped out a little, setting up the garbage and recycling bins. But the main thing I had volunteered to do was to help with the campfires, to make sure they were put out safely at the end of the night. But somehow this turned into a new job—helping tend the fire for the women’s sweat lodge, which was going to take place the following Saturday. What an honour! I agreed to help, and thought I’d better get an idea of what was involved. So I went to the first sweat of the IWGG gathering, held on Tuesday, April 14th. This was the second gift of the east.
When I got to the place of the sweat lodge, located under the magnificent oak trees, 
beside a creek, I sat down with the others who were waiting, took off my shoes, and nestled my toes into the sand. I had not been in a sweat lodge since about 1993, and I was looking forward to seeing how the heat felt to me now. Munro Sickafoose, the netkeeper for the WGC, was pouring water for the sweat. This meant he was running everything that happened inside the sweat lodge (from the human incarnate end—spirit was really running what happened). A beautiful man named Dirk Johnston was the firekeeper, who ran what happened outside of the sweat, preparing the fire to heat the rocks, and transporting them into the sweat lodge. These heated rocks are called the grandfathers, and the firekeeper communes with these rocks and in a sense is responsible for how the sweat goes. It is a sacred and mysterious duty.
It turned out that I was the oldest woman at the sweat lodge, so Munro asked me to sit beside him in the lodge, since his wife wasn’t there, and to put cedar on each grandfather stone as it came into the lodge. I felt very honoured to do this. We were taught what to say as we entered the lodge: Aho matakwe-asin! All my relations! After entering we crawled on our hands and knees in a clockwise direction to take our places around the edges of the lodge. There was a pit in the middle, ready to receive the grandfathers. When we were all inside, Munro asked Dirk to bring in 9 grandfathers. Dirk brought in the first rock, glowing red and clearly visible in the darkness of the sweat lodge. He said “Aho, matakwe-asin! Grandfather, come on in!” Munro guided the pitchfork and placed the rock in the pit in the middle. Now it was my job to sprinkle a little bit of dried cedar leaves on the rock. The herb sparkled as it struck the heated red stone, and the scent began to tickle our noses, creating an immediate feeling that something sacred was happening.
So it went, as Dirk brought each grandfather in. “Aho, matakwe-asin! Grandfather, come on in!” As I sprinkled the herb on each one, I offered a blessing to it. And I fell in love with these glowing grandfather rocks, and with this sacred ceremony from the first peoples of this land.
Munro told us there would be four rounds. The first round was for calling in the ancestors and spirits. The second round was for praying. The third round was for healing. And the final round was the “going home” round. At the beginning of each round, more rocks would be brought in. During the round, Munro would pour water on the rocks to create steam, increasing the heat in the sweat lodge. To be continued…
The absolute best thing about Monkey Valley is running with the bears. (The worst thing is the cell reception, but I won’t go into that now.) It has not happened often that I’ve had the chance to run with bears here—only a few times in nine years—but it happened today.
I went for a nice, long Sunday run, heading out along the old dirt road, overgrown with grass, on the other side of the creek. I forded the swollen springtime creek by climbing along an old fence that has half fallen over, and followed the road up to the gate at the south-east edge of my property—a 20-minute run from the house to the gate, all on my own land!
This is one of the things that drew me to look for a remote property—the desire to run on trails where no cars were—breathing exhaust fumes while out for a run is the worst!
I climbed through the wooden rails of the gate, and followed the track up to Galena Creek Road. Along this stretch I thought about bears, wondering if they were finished hibernating. I realized it was a very warm May day—surely they were out of hibernation, and had been for a while!
At Galena Creek Road I headed north-east, going uphill past the 14K marker, and decided to go as far as the 15K marker. At that point I greeted the trees, offered Reiki to the land and all her creatures (as I usually do at the turn-around point of a run in the woods), and headed back.
On the way back I was watching out for a marshy section, which has been a 
breeding ground for mosquitoes. I’d found it on a medicine walk a few years ago, which had begun with a moose sighting, followed by a remarkable, magical encounter with a bear. So bear was really on my mind today, and looking ahead from the top of a hill, I saw a bear friend looking for greens in the clearing that led to my land!
I immediately stopped at the crest of the hill, and sat down in the middle of the road to watch the bear. He was some distance away—probably about 200 yards—but I had a good view from the top of the hill. I don’t think the bear noticed me. The wind was blowing from Missezula Lake to the bear and then to me. I could smell the lake smell, and I heard grouse drumming out their spring mating dance. In fact, I accidentally ran one off the road during this same run.
But now I was competely absorbed and fascinated by the bear. He was black, and looked quite small, perhaps because of the distance. I wondered if he might be a cub, but there didn’t seem to be any other bears around. He was browsing for new grass to eat—still a sparse commodity in this neck of the woods in May. After a minute or two he ambled east, crossing the road well ahead of me. He looked very thin in profile, and seemed to have a long tail. But what struck me the most was he looked like a human in a bear suit. The way he walked, with purpose and a sense of direction, conveyed the sense of him as an entity with his own business to attend to. Usually when I’ve seen bears they have been running away from me, which is very different from this one who was simply going about his business.
I watched until he was out of sight, and stayed there for a minute or two more, hoping he might wander back into view. How I longed for more time with the bear!
When he didn’t reappear I resumed my homeward run, looking for tracks or scat when I got to where the bear had been. I couldn’t see any signs, though my own tracks from running were plainly visible in the gravel of the logging road. The poor thing must have lost a lot of weight over the winter, to step so lightly that he left no tracks. I climbed a nearby hill on the side of the road where he’d disappeared, hoping for another glimpse, but didn’t see him. So I offered him some Reiki for protection, and the prayer that he would find lots to eat this spring.
Then I headed home, feeling blessed by this encounter with wildness.
We evolved together with the wild animals of the world, and I believe we need their company to feel complete. We are lonely without them.
There are so few of our wild friends left. Don’t hurt them! Stop hunting bears. Stop hunting the wild creatures.
I wasn’t always a happy camper at the 4th International Wilderness Guides Gathering, held in Arizona’s Chiricahua Mountains this April. Previous gatherings have been held in Germany, South Africa, and the UK. People from these countries attended, and many more besides. The gathering was hosted by the Wilderness Guides Council, a North American organization of which I am a member. It was wonderful to meet fellow guides, and to feel I belong to this group of people who are passionate about connecting with the earth and helping others undertake the rite of passage known as the vision fast or vision quest. However, there is a shadow side to every event, and any kind of learning and expansion frequently involves discomfort.
The next gathering, in 2012, will be in the Ukraine. It is wonderful to know that wilderness work is growing strong in many places around the world. The Ukrainians’ plea to host the next gathering was magical. Georgie drew the sign of the four directions in the earth, and it seemed obvious that the Ukraine is the place of the east, where the next gathering should be. Those present could clearly feel the strength of his desire to support wilderness work such as the vision quest to take root again in the Ukraine, where it has been virtually lost as a practice among the people there. It was very moving to witness the gathering of about 120 people sit in council together and reach the decision to meet in the Ukraine next time. Siberia is reputed to be the birthplace of shamanism, and my family has roots in the formerly German Mennonite community of Zaporojie, in the Ukraine, so I was especially moved to know that the guides of the world will gather there to help rebuild lost connections to the ways of the earth.
After the gathering, Tom Quinton (from Big Sur) offered a guides’ renewal fast, which I went to, and there the basecamp was also held by Gillian Wilton from South Africa, and Heorhiy (Georgie) Kushnir from the Ukraine. The nine guides fasting were from Canada, the UK, the US, the Ukraine, Germany, and Australia. Wow! Has such a thing ever happened before?
Over the next few weeks I will be writing about my experiences at the guides gathering and the renewal fast. I am going to begin with my first journal entry:
2009 April 12, after dark, everyone else asleep…
Here I am at the IWGG in a campground in the Chiricahua Mountains. At the moment I hate it. It’s very cold. There’s a bunch of people crowded into each campsite. Corinna is snoring away so I’ll have to wear earplugs. I just put them in but they haven’t fully expanded yet. Just as I was settling in I found a giant spider in my tent and had to remove it…
And thus the trip began with the discomfort that severance from the clean, familiar, and warm comforts of home always brings. This was the lesson I learned on one of the first medicine walks I ever did, and it continues to be something I forget and relearn. Spending time in nature, on uneven surfaces, with bugs and temperature fluctuations and prickly things, is UNCOMFORTABLE! Every time, I need to find a way to GET OVER IT! Afterwards I remember the beautiful connections with people and the land, the ceremonies, the animals, the inner growth. But at the time, I am mostly focused on the DISCOMFORT. I guess this is the way of the ego.
I seem to be a little reluctant to make the turn into spring. So here’s one last look at the winter of ’08. This is my sister Katherine, shoveling snow off the roof of her shed in Horsefly, BC. This picture was taken in March! That’s a lot of snow. That’s her dog, Sam, in the snow below.
I’m going to Arizona to meet with a gathering of wild folks who call themselves wilderness guides. The gathering is in the Chiricahua Mountains, in bear country! After the gathering I am staying to do a guides renewal fast. Four days and nights of fasting from human company, food, and built shelter. It feels like I have been going through the severance phase already, as I tied up all the loose ends here at home and prepared for the trip. Today after I dropped Donald off with friends who will be looking after him I noticed the sadness of leaving the familiar and comfortable behind. I missed my kitty!
Severance is an important step on the journey, because we have to let go of the familiar to leave an empty space for something new to emerge within us. But it is not a comfortable place to be in. Yet we must sever ourselves from our people to cross the threshold of the vision fast ceremony. We must leave the safety and comfort of the coccoon in order to grow, learn, and ultimately bring our gifts back to our people.
So I must sever from this blog until my return. Be well, dear readers, and may you blossom in the spring sunshine.
I just got back from Monkey Valley, where I had a chance to find out how the place fared for the winter. I found evidence of some horses (or so I thought) in the yard, and the corpse of a tiny shrew in the power room. Other than that, no signs of mayhem from the animal world. No mouse or rat invasions, and no insect invasions either. It must have been a quiet winter! I do feel sad about the poor little shrew, though.
There was the usual water damage due to freezing. In spite of my best precautions, which I have detailed elsewhere, there were a number of casualties to the plumbing system. After a day or two of seeming to operate correctly, the kitchen tap started spazzing out water in all directions. The upstairs toilet handle would not flush, though flushing by pulling on the mechanism inside the tank worked. One of the showers leaked ceaselessly on 
the first night I was there (with my Mom and sister Katherine), until, cursing, I attacked it with a screwdriver. For some reason loosening the plate around the handle caused the showerhead to stop dripping, even though I hadn’t got it open to fiddle with the workings of the thing. And, two small leaks in valves in the power room. I see another big plumbing bill in my near future. Aargh!
But this is life. As I’ve recently learned from two of my Diamond Approach teachers, these things happen to us no matter how realized we are. It is not my fault, not your fault. The only thing that changes on our journey of soul maturation is the way we experience the problems, and the way we handle them. I personally enjoy venting my frustration through swearing, but maybe there’s a different way… Such as sensing how I actually feel in my body, and expanding my awareness to know that I am a vast and regal being… Or whatever.
The good news is Monkey Valley made it through the winter, and the damages are actually pretty minor. Happy Spring!
I’ll tell you more about the “horses” next time.
At the STC Canada West Coast chapter’s March program meeting, Takuro Ishikawa gave a Pecha Kucha presentation on conflict resolution. Although most of us enjoy watching others engage in conflict (novels and movies wouldn’t hold our interest unless there was some kind of conflict that the characters struggled with, whether inner or outer), we usually shy away from situations involving conflict and ourselves.
I have observed this tendency in myself, though the people in my life might find it hard to believe! And one area where I have tended to avoid conflict is when I go to get a pedicure at the salon, or when I’m getting a massage. Experiences that I have designated as pleasurable! I don’t want to deal with conflict or argument when I am supposed to be enjoying myself. This means it’s hard to tell the masseuse or pedicurist when she does something that hurts me. She’s supposed to be an expert, perfectly attuned to me and my needs, wants, and bodily sensations: she’s supposed to be good mom!
Of course this rarely happens, and there’s almost always something that occurs during a session that hurts or is at the very least uncomfortable. I left my most recent pedicure session with two injuries on my feet because the pedicurist was too rough and I didn’t tell her. She scraped my heel raw, scrubbing at an area where people usually have callouses. I didn’t actually have a callous there, so she was scrubbing my tender skin. By the time she hit a nerve it was too late, the damage was done. So why bother telling her? It would only cause tension. Then she dug at the corner of my big toe nail with a sharp object. It is still hurting two days later. But again, too late to tell her after she’s already hurt me.
So what is the result? Pain, and frustration. I wanted a pleasurable experience, and came away with injuries. Perhaps the pedicurist wasn’t present and playing close enough attention to what she was doing. I’d certainly like to place all the blame on her! But I also had a responsibility to let her know how her actions affected me, and I didn’t do it. I didn’t want the conflict!
In addition, every time I go to the salon, any salon, the pedicurist doesn’t cut
my toenails short enough! EVERY TIME. They have been trained to do it a certain way, to a certain length. As a runner, I like to keep my nails very short. I explain this, but they think they know better than me. They argue about it. It will give me ingrown toenails if I cut them that short. NOT. It will cause callouses on the end of my toes without the nails to protect them. NOT. I have been doing it this way my whole life, and I know what I want! Basically, it is more difficult to do the pedicure if the nails are short. It is harder to file them, and it is harder to get the polish on without getting it on the skin as well. I wonder if this has anything to do with their reluctance to do what I ask. But it means every time I go, I have to have a discussion about it. And usually I have to ask them to cut them shorter, redoing their work. Or, I can avoid the conflict and leave without getting what I want. Which is what I sometimes do.
This last time, I cut my toenails before I went, so the pedicurist would just have to deal with what was there. This led to a 5-minute lecture on what was wrong with my nails being too short. Jesus christ, they’re my fucking toe nails!
This morning I called the salon owner to deal with the conflict once and for all. I told him about the injuries I sustained during my pedicure, and about the fact that every time I go I get an argument about doing what I ask with regards to toe nail length. He thanked me numerous times for giving him the feedback, said he would speak to his employees about doing what the “guest” asks for, and said next time I go I will get a free pedicure. This whole conversation took about 4 minutes, and was actually very pleasant.
I think the reason I go to the salon is because I enjoy the interactions with the owner! And maybe I’m repeating some kind of pattern of frustration where I keep hoping to have a “good mom” experience but don’t get it. I wonder what will happen next time! If it wasn’t for the offer of the free pedicure, I probably would just stay at home, enjoy my own company, and do it myself. Another way to avoid conflict!
In case any of you are interested in learning some new conflict resolution skills, Takuro will be giving a workshop for the STC in the fall. Keep an eye on the STC site for details.
Friday was the first day of spring: the tipping point when day and night are equal, and now the days are getting longer. More light brings warmth to the earth, helping new life to grow.
I went up into the mountains to check out the snow on my favourite running trail, and found that the trail is almost entirely clear! Even better, I started my run at 6:42 PM, and when I finished it was still light out. Ah, the relief of passing through another winter. We survived the long dark nights, and the trials of the cold time. The reward is longer days, the golden light of spring, and the beauty of spring flowers and budding trees.
Eagle is associated with the direction of the east, which is the direction of 
the spring time. Eagle symbolizes seeing with a new perspective. The eagle is known to fly the highest of the birds, and has symbolic significance in many cultures throughout history. It is hard to see in the dark, so the turning of the wheel into the light of spring brings an increase of vision, a wider perspective, and an opening into perceiving what is going on in the outer world outside the home. It is a time of transformation and new beginnings.
The element associated with spring is fire—the fire of the sun rise at dawn. The fire that burns away what is no longer needed, making room for new life, new growth, new expression. Meditate on this. What are you ready to burn away in your life? What new form wants to be born into the light? How will you bring your gifts into the world this year?
This week I had the great 
pleasure of giving a presentation on the vision fast to the Vancouver chapter of the Society for Technical Communication. Our March STC program was a Pecha Kucha event, in which speakers each discuss 20 slides for 20 seconds, making the presentations a short and informative 6 minutes and 40 seconds.
People are curious about the vision fast or vision quest, and intrigued by the idea of it. One of the things that deters people from trying it is fear of being alone in the wilderness, and particularly fear of wild animals. This is something I too had to face, and have since come to terms with, both as a participant and as a guide. I have had encounters with bears in the wilderness, and even saw a cougar in the distance once. As I have discussed elsewhere in this blog, I have come to realize that it is a rare privilege to encounter a magnificent wild animal like a cougar or a bear.
But, more importantly for the faster who has concerns about such encounters, these animals are very aware of humans and will avoid them if at all possible. The danger of attack from a wild animal is miniscule. My co-guide, Kim Ashley, and I thoroughly prepare fasters at Monkey Valley so that they know how to behave if an encounter happens. With some common sense and a little bit of advice it is easy to make sure an encounter with a wild animal is a blessing and not a danger. As guides, it is very important for us to make sure that each faster returns safely to her or his people. We are confident in our ability to teach you what you need to know to do that.
Another question people have about the vision fast is about the “no shelter” prohibition. The modern-day fast is adapted for city folks in a northern climate, and, again, making sure the faster returns safely is of primary importance. So the vision fast as taught by the School of Lost Borders and at Monkey Valley provides for temporary shelter in the form of a tarp, or even a tent if the faster feels this would be necessary. We teach tarp craft before the fasters go out, so that you learn how to put up a tarp that will keep out all the elements. Believe me, I have huddled under a tarp in the most frightening of storms and managed to stay warm and dry!
We also use a buddy system, in which each 
person leaves a sign at a buddy pile once a day, so that we know everyone is safe. If something should happen, help will be on the way in less than 24 hours. Much of the time in the first two days of preparation before the fast is spent in teaching fasters what they need to know to stay safe on their fasts, and during this time we teach the buddy system as well. We also provide materials to help you prepare when you register to do a fast at Monkey Valley. If you would like to read more about the vision fast and surviving alone for three days and three nights in the wilderness, I recommend The Trail to the Sacred Mountain—A Vision Fast Handbook for Adults. This is required reading before doing a fast at Monkey Valley.
I hope these photos of groups of people who have survived their fasts will inspire you to try it yourself! The Programs page has more information about the upcoming fasts at Monkey Valley. Check it out.
Winter is coming to an end. We’ve already begun Daylight Savings. The first day of spring is March 20. But there’s still a stinging bite of cold in the air in Vancouver, and we had snow a few days ago, which is still clinging to my back deck. At my sister’s place in Horsefly they still have five feet of snow on the ground!
So let’s celebrate some of the qualities of winter before it slips away. The colour for the winter (north) part of the wheel is white. And the element is air. Both of these make sense in northern climates, where a winter storm can turn the whole world into a mass of white, with no discernible difference between sky and land. It was like this at my new home overlooking the Burrard Inlet during the snow storm a few days ago. The entire inlet was filled with white clouds, totally blocking out the mountains across the way, and even the water of the harbour. Fat white flakes drifted lazily through the air, against the background of white. So it is easy to see the literal meaning of the white and air qualities associated with the north.
But there are deeper meanings to these qualities. In the Sufi teaching of the lataif, which are subtle centres in the body, the white aspect is located in the solar plexus, and is associated with will. Will can take on many flavours, but the essence of it is support. This can feel like the solid support of a snow-capped mountain, or the soft fluffy support of white clouds. When a person is in touch with this aspect of their being, it feels like there is no strain or effort required to sit up straight or stand tall. There is an ease to one’s experience of oneself and events. Connecting to will in a deeper way, one moves from the personal will to a sense of universal will, which can feel like a vast slow movement of air, space, water, or even of being on a vast spaceship travelling through the sky. The association with air is evident at the deepest experience of universal will, and in the more superficial experience of being supported by soft clouds, as if this substance of support is in the air all around one.
I recently moved to a new home that is surrounded by space, with open expanses in all directions, and with a fairly large body of water below. Being in this beautiful place, so close to nature, with seagulls and bald-headed eagles soaring outside my window, I have been feeling a sense of being part of the vast movement of universal will. It has carried me here to this new home. Its movements feel mysterious and purposeful. While the turning of the earth and the wheel feel circular, the movement of the universal will (wheel?) feels bigger to me, bigger than a planet. And the movement seems to be in a straight line, though maybe it is just so vast that there is no discernable turning to it.
The support of universal will manifests as a sense that this vast force is causing all manifestation to occur, so I don’t actually need to do anything but go along for the ride. It is quite a switch from feeling that I have to make everything happen! One small way I have let this affect me is to not “try” to create a parking space by asking the parking gods to have one ready for me at such-and-such location. Instead, I am just trusting that I will find a good spot. This seems like a very small thing, and I guess it is a small shift in my life. But I feel the difference. Instead of trying, and making an effort, I am saving that little bit of energy by trusting in the universe. And this brings a feeling of relaxation into my experience of parking.
The universal will has carried you through the events and passages of your life too, and here to this web site. Since you are here, maybe there’s a reason! I invite you to explore the energy of the north by going to an open place outside that is exposed to the wind. Let the wind blow over you and through you. Let it empty you. Revel in the cold and emptiness. This is a gift of the north.