I've been thinking. For those of you who have been visiting here for a while, you know now is the time to roll your eyes and fetch a cup of tea (or possibly something stronger) to fortify yourself for where the randomness of my alleged thoughts might take us.
About three years ago I posted about a comma shaped rock I found on the road. I took it to be a sign from the universe that it was time for a pause, to take a breath. And I very much needed to do that. I don't know if I really feel it's time to get moving again, but yesterday I found another rock, a perfect egg shape. It says to me, "Everything is contained within." And, although I do recognise that tuning into the whispers of rocks might seem a little strange, I'm listening.
And, as it happens, I am moving, from this small wild island to another, bigger and less wild. In spite of having moved at least 40 times since I was a teenager, this particular move feels very hard to make. There is a community here that I really love, where I feel I have a place. It's not easy living here, remote, off-grid, sparsely populated. The shared experience, the pride of being able to get through a dark winter, of surviving a ferry ride in gale conditions, of generating your own power, of eating, dancing and making music together - has created a very special community. My friend Sophia says it's the best place to have a happy second childhood that she can think of. And she's right.
In a way, moving here was like taking a vow of poverty. I live on a very small income. But since there are no stores (except the Free Store), no fashion scene, and perhaps most importantly, no place to dump stuff when you don't want it anymore (except the Free Store), the cycle of consumerism is possible to step away from. I feel like I have had a very rich, full life here - I have shared spectacular pot luck dinners, made dear friends, and walked daily on some of the world's most glorious shorelines.
There have been so many awe-some moments - just the other day I was picking apples, and as I pulled one perfect red fruit from the tree I saw there was a tiny green tree frog perched on it. I held the apple close to a leaf so the little fellow could hop back to safety, and as he reached his tiny hand up, it was illuminated against the sun shining through the branches, and I felt so at peace and in love with the world.
Okay, maybe it is time to get back into the "real" world, and see if I can sustain some of what I have learned here. I'm going to help the chef write a cookbook, and almost without lifting a finger I have become involved in two knitting groups on Salt Spring - both of which knit for admirable charitable causes. I'm planning to join the Spinners and Weavers Guild and learn more about farming and who knows what else. I think that what is contained within is about to burst forth.
As always, it should be interesting.