A space to reflect on the university experience and the wider educational journey of life and love.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

New Beginnings and Transitions

Lately I have been happy.  It seems that all the energy I have been sending out into the universe for the last few months (not to sound too new age-y) has finally begun to return.  I am meeting people and discovering new beginnings and feeling optimistic about the future. Isn't it funny how when you are stuck in a rut, wallowing in self-pity, it seems the fog engulfing you will never recede?  And then one day you take a deep breath and realize the sky is clear.  This morning my curtains were illuminated by the morning sun and the beauty blew me away.  It reminded me of first year, seeing my blinds lit up every morning.  There is something beautiful about mornings.  Something beautiful about new beginnings.

I am learning that there is value in all experiences.  I went to a club for the first time a few weeks ago...(I seem to have missed the "party phase" in first year) and while it was not a completely enjoyable experience, it opened my eyes.  Sometimes I feel like I need to live a little.  So that's what I've been focussing on recently, being open to opportunities and friendships that I would have overlooked before.

I can feel Spring nudging her way into my life, in the gentle breeze and soft sunshine on my eyelids...I look up at the trees and see them emerging.  Buds are appearing.  I think the transition from Winter to Spring is perhaps my favorite transition of all.  I can feel the coldness inside me beginning to melt.  Summer is coming.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Words from the Ocean

I want to write well.
No I want to write good, so good, that you fall off your seat
So that the words snake around your heart, clench it tight in their grasp
And pull your insides out, because parts of you are dripping all over my
Paper.  And I want you to feel the inside of my hands as they dance across
The keyboard attempting to form places and people and passions
But sometimes it doesn’t work. I have tried.  Sometimes it is impossible
To try and coax that fish out of green blue waters and all you are left with
Are waves and ripples going out in every direction but landing no-where.
When all I want, more than anything, is for the waves to crash against
Your shore.  Meeting you and letting you go, but never leaving.
I want to write the kind of words people remember in their deep conversations,
“Oh yeah, I read this poem once and it totally described how I feel.”  I love
So much when you can reach into someone’s soul, your own, but it’s as if you
Scooped water from the collective ocean and the saltiness on your lips
Isn’t there because you had to bend down and drink.  It’s there because it is
In everyone and to me that is the sheer beauty of being able to write.  Of setting
This free on paper, or traveling through the wires to reach you wherever you are
I imagine this golden beam from my heart to yours at night sometimes,
It lights up the cities on the way, and when it finally reaches you, my magical energy
It warms up your heart so that you melt inside.  That is what I want, a strange sort of
Microwave from Mars that transmits light in all directions, a magical pen that
Pours love and heartache onto pages so that maybe one day, maybe one ordinary day
When everything else had crumbled to dust, scattered away,
The essence was still there, what I tried to portray
Made shadows on the sidewalk,
Imprints of what I had to say.

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Skydiving and (un)Broken Cities


 I sat on the edge of the plane struggling to breathe.  The freezing air was whipping in my face and the sheer terror of what I was about to do was finally beginning to sink in.  Then, I was falling, hurtling through space with my eyes wide open.   I could see the cerulean ocean, majestic mountains, patches of farms and blue lakes. When I sent in my application for Go Global I never anticipated seeing the world from such a unique perspective.  This is a story of how my exchange to New Zealand opened my eyes.

I was drawn to two little islands at the bottom of the Earth because of the outdoor opportunities, the kiwi accent, and an intangible voice that reached into my heart and insisted, “Pick me!”  I chose to live in Christchurch, the largest urban center on the South Island because it was centrally located for travelling and because I was interested in how the city was recovering from two massive earthquakes.  I was intrigued by stories of resilience.

On February 22, 2011 at 12:51pm a magnitude 6.3 earthquake struck Christchurch.  Over 180 people died and much of the city’s infrastructure was destroyed.  During my first week in New Zealand I visited Sumner, an oceanfront suburb of Christchurch severely affected by the earthquake.  On top of the cliffs I could see houses ripped in half, rooms and furniture taken down with the crumbling hills.  While exploring the city center I could feel an eerie silence filling empty lots of demolished buildings. Shipping containers held up buildings that were still collapsing.  In the residential red zone, remnants of family life lay scattered across ten thousand empty houses. 

Despite the destruction, the people of Christchurch demonstrated courage and resourcefulness. The University of Canterbury (where I studied abroad) is home to the world-famous Student Volunteer Army which mobilized thousands of students after the earthquakes to contribute to non-life threatening relief work.  A call center was set up and students shovelled tonnes of silt caused by liquefaction.  I took an inspiring class at UC called Christchurch 101 based around service learning.  We learned what kind of service is helpful, and our end of term project was establishing a community garden in a local neighbourhood.

Living in Christchurch taught me that a sense of community can be found in the most unlikely of places.  While attending a world music choir concert, I was spontaneously invited to a poetry slam.  In the sleepy suburb of New Brighton, everything was closed on a Saturday night except for a cafĂ© teeming with 80 ukulele players jamming to old classics.  One evening, after chatting with me for half an hour, a lovely older couple invited me to see their baby goats in the spring. 

I am moved by the generosity and kindness pervasive in New Zealand.  This country is probably one of the last places on Earth where you can hitchhike.  The airport loudspeaker warns you to not let your children play on the escalator.  So many people I met expressed a reverence for the outdoors and an environmental consciousness.

I spent the last two months of my trip travelling around both islands.  It was during this time that I decided to go skydiving.  I found myself continually stunned by magnificent landscapes.  I hiked in an active volcano zone.  I jumped into frigid cold waterfalls.  I went eel fishing.  But despite all of these adventures, the lessons of community and resilience I learned while living in Christchurch continue to resonate.  Living in a city struggling to find its pulse was difficult at times, but taught me about myself and about life.  

The impacts of Go Global are far-reaching - I value certain things in Canada more, I want to travel more, my concept of education has widened, and I developed strong friendships. Whether you are contemplating travelling to a new country for a while, or sitting on the edge of a plane, I hope you keep your eyes open as you leap head first into a new adventure.









New Buildings and Lost Views

I am watching the construction workers install the third floor of a building that is conveniently going up right in front of our apartment.  The crane is swinging in the air and I am cringing.  Before the new building was going up, every night I would fall asleep to a valley of lights.  We always left our living room curtains open so we could see the glimmering beacons in the distance.  Now all of that will be gone.

The new construction is reminding me of a few universal truths.  1) Change is the only thing that is certain.  2) We get easily attached to the way we want things to be.  There is nothing I can do as I stare out the window except be mopey and miserable.  Or I could not be mopey and miserable. I can't halt the construction.  So alas, it is better to surrender.  It is better to witness the change and flow with it instead of resisting.  I know this truth intellectually, yet a part of me still mourns for a loss. Yes I was lucky to have a view in the first place, yes, the mountains are still there...yes, I can find things to be grateful for.

On another note, I've missed teaching yoga lately.  I'm still struggling to establish my daily practice but I usually fit yoga in most days.  I've realized that it is a huge passion of mine.  Sometimes it takes distance for us to realize what we truly care about.

In other news, I had a lovely break with my family.  I am endlessly grateful for their unconditional love and support. My family has taught me what love means.

I wrote an article for the student newspaper about my trip to New Zealand, I will post it right after this one.  I am feeling everything come full circle these days. I am feeling content overall, even as buildings block the view....I guess we can choose what to focus on - the view that remains or the view that is gone.

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Yoga and Loneliness

This morning I went to yoga and as we practised I could see the snow lined tree branches outside scattering snowflakes in the wind.  All around me the mountains were dusted with white and I couldn't get over the fact that I live in such a stunningly beautiful place.  Every evening I fall asleep next to shimmering lights in the valley and every morning I see trees and mountains.

I think the natural environment has such an impact on us.  A friend of mine was telling me about a common plight facing many children today - Nature Deficit Disorder.  Do you think we are more or less connected to the Earth today than in the past?  I'm not sure, but I know I feel a million times better after a walk in the woods.

Lately I've been feeling lonely.  I know it is possible to be content in your own company, and most of the time I am.  Perhaps it is the fact that nearly all of my friends have significant others, and I do not.  Perhaps it is just insecurity.  Perhaps it is just loneliness, plain and simple.  Our society teaches us that it is necessary to be constantly stimulated and constantly surrounded by people.  It's another lie.  So is the belief that we need someone else to complete us.  My  head knows all of this, but my heart doesn't understand.

I also know that we are social creatures and my happiest days are ones where I am running into friends and feeling connected.  But is everything we need  within us?  Or do we need to look outside ourselves for wholeness?

Recently I painted a poem that is hanging up on my wall.  It seems to soothe my soul.  Here it is:

Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.


- Mary Oliver

Saturday, January 18, 2014

On Track

Hello dear readers,

There has been a cloak of fog enveloping the Okanagan the last few days and it feels like some sort of winter insulation.  I am back at school and slowly establishing a rhythm of study and life again.   First let me say, it is wonderful to be back.  It is wonderful to feel more like myself and happy again and to be reminded of how much I love this campus.  Recently, I was talking to someone in my class about the sense of community here, about how much I love the opportunities for connection. 

For example, we have a Collegia program here, which is basically a series of beautifully renovated living rooms on campus where commuter students (or any student) can study, nap, or socialize between classes.  I think our school is one of the very few in Canada that has a free program like this.  I think it is the responsibility of each student to take steps to get involved though...you can be offered all the opportunities in the world, but the important part is stepping up and saying yes.

My dear friend Makyla wrote me a letter about saying yes before I left for New Zealand.  It signified one of the biggest lessons I learned while I was there - embracing where you are.  Obviously you can't say yes to everything, there just isn't enough time in the day, but when you are open to the opportunities that present themselves life becomes so much more enriching. 

This semester I am taking some wicked classes - Sociology of Families, Cultural Studies Practices, Critical Theory, and Postcolonial Literature and Culture.  Each one has something valuable to offer and very often they overlap and complement each other.   For my extra curriculars I am swimming, dancing, kickboxing (maybe), guiding tours, doing yoga, and maybe volunteering at the daycare.

I am feeling good these days.  Happy about my decision to change majors and do Cultural Studies instead.  Settled in my new home with two incredible roommates and a mountain view.  Content with my activities.  Rejuvenated by my friendships.  Grateful for my family and the countless blessings around me.  I am feeling like I am on track, at last.

With much love,
Emmy

PS: Here are some photos of my (new) home:






Monday, December 30, 2013

Reflections of a Year

2013:

Winter. Woke up. Trudged to class, couldn't understand why everyone else was smiling.  Led tours. Taught yoga. Cried. Was quiet.  Skied. Depression settled silently in my bones.  Heaviness. Heaviness.  Painful memories. Belly danced to distract myself.  Painted for expression. Good conversations and comforting tea drinking with Camille. Tried to read. Couldn't concentrate.  Stopped, withdrew, decided to try something new. 

Spring. Came home.  Left school.  Learned about coffee and painting and yoga.  Had conversations at Connections and felt renewed.  The brainwaves started to move in a new direction.  Birthday on an island.  Delicious food.  Makyla visits and more wonderful yoga.  Portland.  Sebastopol.  Beautiful memories with Camille and Belen.  Sipping chai and savouring lovely friendship. Ashram life. Looking inwards.  Working in the garden. Hari Om. Exploring the Light. Quietness. Early nights and early mornings.

Winter (Summer). Magical plane ride with a dear old friend.  Landed in New Zealand, landed in paradise.  Hiking near golden sandy beaches and cerulean seas in the middle of winter.  There are still flowers in this magnificent country.  Devastated buildings.  Devastated Christchurch. Sadness.  Emptiness.  Doubt. Campervan trips and sparkly vibrant Dunedin. Sheep stations and wilderness trips.  Monday lunches with Leah.  Movies and mountains.  Rivers and running.  Crossing the Avon every morning and walking to class.  Yoga.  Dancing. Meditation.

Spring (Autumn).  Contentedness trickles back.  Depression lifts softly and silently, floating away back to the sky.  Marae visits and retreats with new friends.  Laughter and little children.  Wilderness beckons. Trekking. Navigating in the dark. School ends. Hiking in Fiordland. Sublime moments. Breathtaking landscapes.  1000 metres in elevation in 8 hours. Meeting North. A sweet week in Wellington. Seeing Avalanche City with Ellen. Bliss at Anahata Yoga Retreat. Seeing Golden Bay and forest and beautiful mornings.  Fire ceremony.  Biking to Pohara Beach. Bliss. Freedom.  Exams.

Summer (Winter).  Hiking near volcanoes.  Eel fishing by moonlight.  Jumping into waterfalls.  Leaping into waterfalls.  Leaping into...the abyss.  Embracing life's magnificence. Skydiving.  Bay of Islands.  Beautiful walks.  North.  Awe-inspiring trees. Weak in the knees. Alone and happy.  Alone and not alone.  New friends. Waiheke Island.  Parents come to visit.  Windy road anxiety.  Everything is going to be okay.  Everything is okay.  Fun times and kayak sailing and birds playing.  Australia for a week and home. Friends and familiarity.

It is a journey, healing happens when we open to the present moment and let go.  Thank you for all of the wonder and the love and the joy and the pain and the sorrow and all of it.  Thank you for every single beautiful soul I encountered and shared time with.  Thank you for the chance to live fully and deeply and to feel.  Thank you for life.  Thank you for life.  Thank you for life.