The Next Move

My first week at my new job went very well. I've been meeting people; learning about the organization, the work it's done, and the context of the project on which I'm working; and even starting to get my hands dirty.

I've also been scouting potential living situations. Despite a very tempting offer to share a million-dollar home in a beautiful neighborhood for only a couple hundred dollars more than I had budgeted, I finally settled on moving into a house on Chestnut Street with Heather (28) and Willow (9 months).

The house is only a 20 minute walk from work, and a short bike ride to my sister's. It's situated between the canal and the river, so paths along both are readily accessible. It also has solar panels, radiant floor heat, and hang-dry laundry facilities, which equal ridiculously low utility costs in a city of old houses and high heating bills. And there's parking for both my Jeep and my bikes.

With these changes, my time horizon has gone from not being sure what was happening next week, to having some certainty about the next month -- still short, but much more manageable. My five months of camping and couch surfing is coming to an end.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Calmer Waters

I have a job! The Information & Communication Technology Council (ICTC) has offered me a 13-month contract as a research analyst starting on Monday, November 1.

My task will be to conduct a year-long project researching job competencies in the eHealth industry, and to prepare a report outlining the skills, knowledge, and experience people need to flourish in that field. Despite my initial reservations, it seems like a very good fit with my background in IT and organizational development, and my interest in the health care industry.

I've also been invited to joint the consultant roster of a local firm, Delta Partners. Although the work with ICTC will occupy most of my time for the next year, the association with Delta provides the opportunity to publish white papers and professional blog posts, and possibly to be involved peripherally in some projects. They also have consultants in Vancouver. :- )

I've had big bouts of anxiety this past week, especially while waiting days for the job offer to be confirmed. The gremlin taming exercises have been enormously helpful in managing that. In part, that's meant meditating daily again, something I've neglected badly over the past few months (when I needed it most, of course). Despite the anxiety, I've been much more grounded than in recent weeks.

Now that I have 1. Paid Work, I am starting to look for 2. My Own Home. (Well, it will probably be somewhere with roommates, but you know what I mean.)

As for 3. Community and Connection, well, I do have a friend here now, and I will soon have work colleagues. There are only 35 people at ICTC, so it will be easy to get to know everyone there. Plus, I've taken the last two weeks in November as a leave to get out of town and be with friends -- a little pre-winter break. As good as it is to be in contact with people virtually, nothing beats actually being in the some room together. I am soooo looking forward to that.

So, (cross my fingers) the storms of this move seem to be over and the water is getting calmer again. Happiness is back onboard, and I can see the possibility of enjoying my adventures here. Phew!

The photo for this blog is my 93-year old grandmother, the Queen Bee, in her Hallowe'en costume getting ready to party. It seemed appropriate. : )


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

The Rollercoaster

What emotion haven't I experienced this week? Happiness, fear, anger, sadness, deep remorse, contentment, anxiety, delight, calm, grief, fear, etc. The death throes of an emotional demon? PMS? Perimenopause? Just a typical emotional arc in this major life transition?

What I do know is how wrung out I feel. Also that when I finally sat down and worked through some of the Taming Your Gremlin exercises today, they helped immediately in getting more centred and grounded.

On the positive end of the spectrum, the job interview I had on Wednesday went very well. The recruiter called me the next day to tell me I was a strong candidate and that she would be checking my references. I hope to be discussing a start date, etc. tomorrow -- fingers crossed!

The job is a one-year contract to do competency modeling in the area of eHealth. I am excited about the project, and have felt daunted about making a one-year commitment to being here. But Friday while walking in the woods in Gatineau Park, I had the thought that a year from now I could be walking through these beautiful woods surrounded by the final colours of fall and preparing to return to the west coast for the winter. I realized I felt quite content with that possibility -- not panicked as I have been. I stopped to watch two hawks circling, feeling good to be there.

A friend (I now have one here to whom I'm not related!) and her boyfriend invited me to their house on Saturday evening! That I can even say that I now have a friend here makes me feel so happy. They made me a lovely dinner, plied me with drinks, and then took me to the Elmdale Tavern where the owner was celebrating his birthday with an ad hoc Rolling Stones cover band. $5 cover charge, and I have to say, I enjoyed it more than the real thing. The musicians were some of the most unlikely looking people to play the Stones, and they rocked it! One paunchy granddaddy maintained a completely cool demeanor while picking the hottest, fastest jaw-dropping lead riffs. A nerdy high school science teacher, black glasses and hunched shoulders, played some super-mean bottleneck slide. The stocky vocalist who stuttered during a breaktime chat had the Mick accent and attitude completely down. We lapped it up.

Also on the positive side, my sister and I are training for a 10k run on New Year's Eve. We had two training runs this weekend, a 3k and a 6k. Running is such a lift, even when I have to drag my butt out of bed after a late night and it's only a couple degrees above freezing. So worth it.

One of the principles I learned in coaching was that we often perpetuate the very things that we most dread or abhor in our lives. I've talked about that before in this blog, and I noticed it again this week as, beset by confusion, loneliness and fear, I aggressively pushed away a good friend. I have done my best to repair the damage, but damage was done and I still feel sick about that. Where did all my good LIOS training go? What happened to checking the other person's intention? That incident in itself has been a blight on the week.

As the incident above shows, amidst the good times, I've had unpredictable bouts of grief and fear. Another of those overwhelmed me today about an hour after the morning run, a time when I would typically be feeling clearer and calmer. When I got home, I dove into some of the Taming Your Gremlin exercises that I have been reading about but not yet doing. One of these was a long meditation focused on a loved one. I chose to do this thinking of my sister. After the exercise, I noticed how fear and loneliness put the focus on whether people care about me, a very self-absorbed and powerless place to be, while meditating on love shifts my focus to how I could be show more love and care to others -- much more productive. I suspect I already know many people who practice that.

I am feeling the talons of anxiety in my back again after writing this. I hope that the next couple days will bring more certainty about work, money, and plans for November. Whether or not that happens, though, I will keep up the gremlin taming and practicing love. One step at time.

P.S.
I did some more gremlin taming after writing this, and it works! :- ) I am definitely a fan.


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Here Comes the Sun

Good Morning!

And for a change, I really believe that it is. I think I've finally gotten around a turning point.

People sent me some very loving, thoughtful emails and comments yesterday, for which I am very, very grateful. A couple in particular sparked candles in me.

Jeca wondered whether I am still adjusting to and figuring out what life is like without my ex. Since moving here, I have indeed been struggling with how to value myself as a single person. That seems pretty crazy when I consider it in terms of any other human being in the world. It makes me realize how much of my self-worth was tied for many years to being someone else's partner. Not a very healthy situation. Definitely time for a change.

Cliff said that one day I would look back on this time and feel proud of myself. That was in such sharp contrast to where my head has been that it got me asking what I would need to be doing right now to actually feel proud of myself. It's been a very helpful question.

Last night my sister and I went to a bookstore to browse and have tea. The second book I picked up was one a former colleague, Darryl Kropp, casually recommended a year or so ago. Darryl has good taste in books, and the title, Taming Your Gremlin, was catchy, so I remembered it. Browsing through it last night I thought it might be just what I need. The subtitle is: A Surprisingly Simple Method for Getting Out of Your Own Way. I'll let you know how it works.

Maybe there was a shorter route to get to the place, or maybe I had to slog through the marshes and bogs, hear your encouragement ("I've been through that slough. You can do it!") and feel your friendship, love, and support to finally find this piece of solid ground. I have a real smile on my face -- not just the kind one puts on because someone else is looking. I am thinking about having fun and playing. I feel optimistic. I can't tell you how sweet this feels in contrast to where I've been lately.

I wanted to write this blog this morning because I want to remember, however the job interview goes tomorrow, that I felt this way even before I had a job or a home. I may still slip and fall, but I have this touchstone.

Thank you so much for holding me where I'm at, for sharing your responses, telling me where you're at and where you've been and what's been helpful to you on your journey, and for being willing to just hang in there with me.

Love,
Lynn


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Surrender

I've kept hoping that I'd gone as low as I was going to go emotionally, and that things would start picking up again, but this past week was even rougher than the previous ones. Frankly, it scared me. I was very, very lucky to have some amazing friends to whom to reach out. Thank you to each and every one of you.

Getting that down finally forced me to be willing to consider taking a job here that is longer term and less sexy than what I originally wanted. I have an interview this Wednesday, and will spend the next few days preparing.

Once I called the recruiter and told her I was interested in the job after all (she had proposed it to me shortly after I moved here), I was flooded with even more sadness. I suspect this is what I have been trying to avoid in my reluctance to commit to being here: Admitting that my life on the west coast as it was during the past year is Over. That was a tsunami of grief, and there are still a few waves of it rolling onto the beach now and then.

On the other side of the grief is the knowledge that the west coast is still there, and I am connected to people in ways that sometimes surprise me. You don't know how much it means to me to know you're all out there (wherever you are), to read your comments and emails, get a phone call, etc. It's like the salt in the water that's keeping me afloat.

Along with the grief, I was experiencing fear, mainly about the unpredictability of the future. In some ways that probably seems silly: The future is always unpredictable. But when our day-to-day lives are anchored in the familiar -- a home, a job, stable relationships with the people around us -- it's easier to lull oneself into thinking that the next day will be basically an extension of this one. There's a greater sense of control and ability to plan the future. I don't experience that much these days. On the good days, that seems like an adventure. On the tough days, not so much.

On Friday afternoon, I wandered into an Italian deli in the Bytown Market. The smells instantly transported me to Commercial Drive: olives, cheeses, sausages and pastramis. I wandered the aisles fondly recognizing the same boxes and jars and Mediterranean delicacies. It was comforting to be somewhere that familiar.

I feel some embarrassment that this transition has been so challenging for me. Other people have much, much tougher stuff happen to them and have the courage and resilience to get through. I'm pretty freaking lucky. At the same time, I recognize that I'm experiencing something very common and human, that almost all of us, at some time will have or have had our lives disrupted in ways that disorient us and cause us pain. I hope that I can learn well enough from this that I can be of good service to others at a similar or more difficult place in their journey. I hope that I can be as good a friend to them as all the friends who are supporting me.

Today I walked my first orienteering course. It seemed terribly appropriate to be wandering around in the bush with a map and a compass trying to find the next checkpoint. I was often slow and lost, but I finished!

I've come to accept that Ottawa is a chrysalis for me, and that I am, right now, a gooey, mucky ball of plasma in the midst of transforming from a caterpillar to (please!) something more beautiful. (I desperately hope that after all this I'm not going to be just a big, grey moth.) Although I may be feeling incredibly claustrophobic and desperate to get out, now is not the time. There's a lot more work ahead.

To close, here's a reminder that I received in my mailbox a couple days ago that has been helpful to me.

The capacity for love is within each of us and has been active all around us, pervading our world from the moment we were born. The claim that love pervades this world may not sound real to you but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Most of us just haven’t learned to pay much attention to the countless moments of love, kindness, and care that surround us each day: a child at the store reaching for a parent’s hand, an elder at the park who smiles upon a young family, a grocery clerk who beams at you as she hands you your change. - John Makransky

Wishing you all much love,
Lynn


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Thinking About Happiness

A year ago last July, I left my marriage because I wanted to create a happier life for myself. Ironically, in the last four weeks I have experienced the deepest unhappiness I can remember in the past twenty-six years. This is despite the fact that I am doing many, many things that I thought would make me happy. I'm exercising daily; getting outdoors for runs, hikes, and kayaks, playing guitar; I went swing dancing Friday night and plan to make that a weekly event; I'm physically closer to my sister and her family; living in a small, attractive, culturally rich and diverse city with easy access to the outdoors, getting out for social events. These are all good things, and some of them have been essential in keeping me afloat.

Three things are missing:

1. Paid Work: This would meet my needs for financial security, regular connections with people, and a sense of capability and contribution
2. My Own Home: This won't happen until I get paid work in place.
3. Connection and Community

I dearly hope that the first two gaps will be filled in the next few weeks. Connection and community are a much bigger gap.

Every social event I go to reminds me of how disconnected I am from the people I'm with, and how much time it takes to build a relationship with someone. Writing that, I judge myself. Why can't I be more like the Dalai Lama or some other enlightened being who travels all over meeting new people so open-heartedly? Then I remind myself that the Dalai Lama doesn't travel alone; he travels with helpers and companions who he has known and worked with for many, many years. And I think of the quote by Mother Theresa: "The greatest poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved."

It takes time and courage to cultivate intimacy with someone, to really know them and to be known. Generally, our culture does a lousy job of teaching us how to do that. Most of us, and I include myself in this number, are terrified of being that vulnerable, yet some part of us needs that deep connection. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that the majority of the people I know well are either on anti-depressants or are leaning heavily on alcohol or drugs. I wonder how much of that is the result of loneliness and fear. Those of us who are unable, for many reasons, to create and sustain intimate relationships perpetuate the cycle and even pass that loneliness on to the next generation despite our most loving intentions.

The richest aspect of my experience at LIOS were the lessons I learned about cultivating intimacy. In fact as I write that I see that cultivating richer connections with other people, whether in organizations, teams, families, couples, or with oneself, was what the entire program was about. Right now, I don't think there is anything more important than that.

I also see how easy it is to take our intimate relationships and experiences of community for granted. These become part of the backdrop of our busy lives, so easy to neglect when there are so many demands on our time, so many other places to focus attention. Even when I lived in Vancouver, I remember how difficult it often seemed to make a date with someone -- especially a group of people! -- or even to connect on the phone. It can be so easy to blame the people closest to us for little inconveniences and troubles instead of keeping our hearts open and acting with integrity.

I guess I had to be this alone to fully appreciate the communities I have -- those on the west coast, and my family here and in Alberta. I know many of you reading this already have that deep appreciation, and I respect you for that.

I'm learning much about the cost of tearing my life apart. I guess all I can do at this point is commit to doing a better job of putting it back together despite all my fears. I want to remember what I learned at LIOS and what I'm learning now. I want to stay awake enough to avoid the old patterns and ruts. I want to be brave enough to be a good sister, aunt, daughter, colleague, and friend.

I keep thinking that I'm going to write a lighter, happier blog, that these have gotten too heavy. I'll get there soon, I hope. In the meantime, thanks for hanging in with me.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Settling In

Since the last post, I've taken three concrete actions to get life on a more even keel.

Action #1: I had been thinking about how to create a reminder of my commitment to love and value myself, especially when I may be feeling most lonely and vulnerable. Last year I thought that if I ever got into another committed relationship, I would want to create a shared vision with my partner and do an annual retreat together to review and renew it. Now I decided to do that with myself, but to set the time frame at three months, which seems practical and manageable.

Thinking that far ahead and knowing that I eventually want to move back west, it was easy to imagine the kind of work, living situation, neighborhood, friendships, interactions with my family, and financial situation that I want by that time. I tacked that on my wall and made a date with myself in three months to renew it.

Action #2: Then I went to Byward Market and bought myself a $10 plain stainless steel ring that is now on my left hand -- a visual reminder of my love relationship with myself.

Action #3: My coach recommended an article by the Arbinger Institute on self-deception that I have found very, very helpful. In fact, after reading it I bought and read two of their books, Leadership and Self-Deception and The Anatomy of Peace. The ideas have not only helped keep me on a more even keel, but also gave me new perspectives on conflict and resistance in organizations.

Day to Day

Although I still get lost sometimes, I now know my way around a few main routes. This week I paid $11 for parking when, I later learned, parking a couple rows over was free. The next day I got a $45 ticket for parking where I shouldn't have -- expensive lessons, but I'm learning nonetheless, and most of my days this week have been dry-eyed.

Some highlights since my last blog:

1. A dear friend from Mississauga was in town a week ago, and I got see her and meet her husband. How incredibly sweet it was to be together and make plans to return the visit! To top it off, I have a date to see a Vancouver friend while she's visiting family here in early October. Ah, familiar faces: We take so much for granted day-to-day. Just to see someone I know is such an incredible treasure here. Skype and Gmail's new phone/video feature have given me much joy, too. It is so good to have friends.
2. Walks with my sister. :- )
3. I have a great guitar teacher, Peter Storzenecker -- so positive and encouraging!
4. Networking continues to go well, and there are three preliminary leads for work -- very preliminary, but it's a start.
5. I discovered that my sister's neighbor, Chris Breitner, jams with some other extremely talented blues and jazz musicians, and got on the guest list to see him perform bass with them Friday night -- what a treat! His collaborators include Anders Drerup and Diane White.
6. I finally buckled down and registered for French class, since that seems to be the entré for almost any work here. (I guess the highlight of that is that I remember more than I thought I did.)
7. I'm already getting excited about winter sports and have joined two clubs to get a) people to get out with and b) discounts to make it affordable. Now we just need snow. :- )

I've been here a day short of four weeks now, and it seems like four months -- August was such a very, very long time ago. One day at a time...

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Motoring or Sailing

I imagine that some people’s lives are like driving a motorboat. They have a destination in mind, they start their engines, and they set out towards it. They maneuver around obstacles, meet and surmount difficulties with relatively few diversions and a clear sense of direction.

Then there are people whose lives are more like sailing a ship. They, too, have a destination in mind, but in order to reach it they rely on elements over which they have no control, tacking and jibing, hoisting and reefing to wend their way closer and closer along an indirect and unpredetermined path, sometimes surprised by where their journey takes them. Their direction is governed by squalls of emotion and deep tidal currents they may struggle to read. But for the most part, if one attends to the wind and trims one's sails accordingly, the boat sings along.

This week for the first time since I landed in Ottawa I’m proud to say that I’ve had days when I have not cried. I’m finally able to find my way around on key routes and recognize landmarks – not easy in a city where roads change names and direction seemingly haphazardly. This growing familiarity means it takes me much less time to get things done. I have at times felt happy. Phew.

Then Friday morning I woke up and was overwhelmed by grief. I kept crying and crying and couldn’t feel a way out. I would get myself calm for a time, eat, take a business call, or meditate, but then the tears returned. Everything felt wrong. It was a beautiful fall day. I was supposed to go camping with my sister when she got home from work, but grief drowned any enthusiasm I would normally have for that. Deep mourning and confusion immersed me.

Just after noon, I finally forced myself to go for a run. How would I have gotten through this past year without running? I think of friends who are limited or debilitated by pain or illness and my heart goes out to them. Sometimes physical exertion is all that gets me through, the only thing that seems capable of shifting my mood or leading me to insight.

As I ran, the tears abated and the jumble of thoughts in my head finally fell into place. The day before two or three people told me that although they found moving to Ottawa difficult initially, they had now lived here for many years and loved it. They reassured me that whatever I might feel now, I would come to be at home here, too. At the time, I expressed relief and thanked them.

As I ran I realized that this was the source of my grief. I was having a violent reaction to the thought of making Ottawa home. Seeing this, I finally relaxed. “This is my life,” I thought, “and I don’t have to stay here. I can stay for nine months, a year, make the most of this time with Karen and her family, and then go back to the west coast.”

At this thought, I felt deeply comforted. I could now see the beauty of the day, appreciate everything good about Ottawa (and there is much of that). My enthusiasm for the camping trip returned. All was right in the world.

I guess I am not yet done with the west coast. I’m taken aback by the violence of emotion I have around that. I’ve navigated many changes in the past year, and I’m surprised that it is the idea of leaving the west coast permanently that seems the most intolerable. Yet when I honour that and think of this as a retreat rather than a permanent move, I am motivated to make the most of my time with my sister, nephew, niece and brother-in-law; to explore and appreciate Ottawa and environs and everything it has to offer. Things make sense again. I can ride this tack through Ottawa happily for a time, knowing my final port lies in another destination.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Strange Gifts

“This time alone on a little boat at sea in the middle of a wild storm and longing for company is like nothing else in my experience. I have leaned back from others, resenting their close breath upon me, imagining that the most important virtues are self-reliance and independence, fantasizing about post-apocalyptic survivalism (myself the only survivor). Into this resentful misanthropy intruded a frank and uncovered loneliness. This is why people venture out alone on mountains and little boats and across deserts – not because they can, but because they can’t. …

“It is true that we are ingenious and resourceful creatures and we can survive without espresso and poires belle Hélène, but we cannot last without companions. In cities we live badly with one another, and blame others – the pressure of their presence – for the vileness of our days. But the fault does not lie there.” – p. 280, The Water in Between, Kevin Patterson

Writing has a way of shifting things. Even if no one read these blog entries, writing them is very helpful to me. That you not only read them, but respond with such kindness, love, and understanding is a balm to my heart. Thank you.

After writing the last entry, I finally thought of volunteering as another way to connect with people here. I called a local organization to which I had been a long-time donor. While they weren’t taking volunteers, a woman named Sophie (another former Vancouverite) very generously gave me contact names for two organizations seeking group facilitators and offered to call them and let them know she had referred me. So that is in motion.

This weekend, I am registered in a workshop: two eleven-hour days in a hotel conference room learning techniques to free oneself from debilitating behaviours and disease. I heard that this program is being used in some areas of federal government leadership training and thought it might be a good connection. Although I had a rough night, I got up early Saturday – by far the earliest since I’ve been here – exercised, showered, and got to the conference by 8:35. I felt scared to be there – too raw and vulnerable, unwilling to open to these strangers. Through the early part of the morning the facilitator led a couple reflections and during these I noticed how my experience of loneliness was once again preventing me from fulfilling my intention of connecting with others. How could I get out of this vicious cycle? What was driving it?

Self-rejection. When that thought came two hours into the workshop, it fit like a key. The sadness lifted. It’s not a particular place or person or people from whom I am alienated; it’s myself.

I have been feeling it most sharply and hating myself most deeply lately because I finally accepted that someone who I want very much to want me simply doesn’t – at least not as much as I want him to. But when I look at the situation frankly, I see that I am abdicating responsibility and trying to get him to do something that I need to do for myself – and that he needs to do for himself much more than for anyone else. In that way, I’ve been trying to steal his energy.

I left the workshop at the noon break. It’s a beautiful day, and I decided to spend the rest of the weekend with myself outdoors. This seems like more important work right now than meeting anyone or learning someone else’s techniques. I’m writing this sitting on a log beside the Ottawa River. There are lily pads and sea grass and boats, and I saw a heron. My camping gear is in the back of the Jeep.

I’ve been resenting Ottawa, questioning my decision to come here, railing against fate and wanting things to be different. Right now, finally, I can see coming here and even not being wanted by someone as gifts: Just what I need in order to begin. I’ve talked about valuing and loving myself no matter what. Now I get to practice.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Loneliness and Home

“Which is … the redemption of the travelers and their compulsion to tell tales. Their stories, when they are meaningful, are certainly not about the solitary traveler. They are about home, and the travelers’ relationship with it.” - p. 278, The Water in Between, Kevin Patterson

This week has been lonelier and harder than the last. I have found it more difficult to accomplish the tasks on my self-care list. Things unravel quickly -- I stay up late; am reluctant to get out of bed; try to compensate by doing some of the look-for-work or prep-for-errands tasks on the computer and phone; skip exercise; eat late; finally force myself to dress and shower; get a couple things done; go out to a social event to try to connect with people; come home feeling lonely; stay up late trying to connect with people on the west coast who are busy or away, in the midst of their own lives and worries; stay up late; skip meditation, etc., etc.

I keep learning how patterns of behaviour unintentionally reinforce unwanted cycles of events. In this case, feeling lonely --> sad --> cry --> isolate myself --> pry myself out of isolation --> go to social event --> find it difficult to connect with others (not surprising, given that my energy is low and I feel sad) --> feel lonely --> call or email --> others busy / bad timing --> feel lonely --> sad --> cry --> isolate myself, etc. It's a tragic and ironic cycle. I'm sure there are many, many other people who just need to be held and to have a good cry, yet it seems so hard to melt the fears and distance and social barriers and do that.

There have been breaks: Hugs with my sister, second-hand shopping with my niece, a chat with my nephew. I know that if I keep chipping away, connections will happen. If nothing else, I am, I hope, cultivating compassion for other travelers and life-levelers. And I recognize that although I may feel stripped down, I still have many blessings: my sister and her family, their hospitality, my health, a working vehicle to get around with. These are not trivial things.

It may not look like I am still traveling, but until I arrive again in a place that feels like home I will still feel like a nomad. I imagine that many people are invisible travelers, having lost one home and not yet found another. In its absence, I am certainly discovering the value of home for me.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Greetings from Ottawa

Seattle was so good to me. It felt so easy to be back there with my classmates; so many people generously welcomed me into their homes and hearts again. My only regret was that my time at each place felt too short. Jolene and I explored birthday love signs and the U of W farmer's market; most of my graduating class congregated at Jessa's Vachon Island home Saturday for a barbecue and bonfire; Mary and Bruce swept me off to a rusticly beautiful bed and breakfast; Carol, Helen, Erica, Mary and I shared a great dinner Sunday night and then savoured Eat, Pray, Love together; Heather, Lauren, John and Brian spent a sweet and savoury evening at Katie and Tom's with me; Katie and I had some great conversations and spent a glorious afternoon hiking, swimming and sunbathing at beautiful Lake Twentytwo.

On my way back north to Vancouver, I stopped in South Surrey to spend a night with Joan Mara, a LIOS adjunct faculty member and fellow OD consultant. It was such a pleasure to relax, talk, and walk with her, meet two of her three sons, and get to know her better. I particularly appreciated her reading my Tarot cards by candlelight on her patio late in the evening. The images of the future, as murky as they were, felt comforting.

My time in Vancouver was very short. I wrapped up some business, had lunch with Craig, and -- finally! -- hiked the Grouse Grind. The Grind is a 2.9 km (1.8 mile) hike with 2,830 stairs up a 30 degree slope -- short but challenging! Although I was soaked with sweat and pushing myself to keep pace, when I saw the finish I got a burst of adrenaline and ran the last few metres. My friend and I reached the summit in 1:01:30 -- what a great feeling! And the view was astonishingly beautiful. I was so glad I did it before leaving the west coast.

After such a stellar August, it is perhaps not surprising that the return to Ottawa to finally set down roots has felt challenging. My sister, brother-in-law, nephew and niece have been super welcoming and very understanding of my moods. I'm very grateful to be staying with them; it would feel much harder if I were on my own. Other things that have been very helpful:

• my morning exercise routine, even on the days when I've practically had to whip myself to do it
• playing guitar
• lovingkindness meditations
• hugs (thank you, Aïsha!)
• having a cry when I need it
• making contact with people to whom I've been virtually introduced
• the two meetup.com outings I've been on: It's felt so good to get out, do something fun, and socialize with people.

Most of my attention this past week has been on getting somewhat settled and letting people know I'm here, interspersed with two great lunches with my sister. The theme of the coming week will be Finding Work. I'm sure it's also going to be a huge help to be employed again and focusing on something besides my little life. I am also going to start calling people on the west coast and doing a better job of keeping in touch.

I hope that you are all well and safe and happy. Please call or write anytime. If you don't have my new cell phone number, let me know and I'll send it to you.

Here's a quote I've been thinking of today. It's so far away from where I am right now, but nonetheless I find it helpful.

As a bee seeks nectar from all kind of flowers, seek teachings everywhere. Like a deer that finds a quiet place to graze, seek seclusion to digest all that you have gathered. Like a madman beyond all limits, go wherever you please and live like a lion completely free of all fear. - Ancient Tibetan text

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

August 20: Island Perspectives

Ah, border crossings. I’ve had some challenging ones in the past couple years – being asked to sit and wait on bench W without explanation and then accused of being a student for Pete’s sake; being asked one item at a time whether I was bringing guns, knives, bombs, apples, oranges, potatoes, drugs, gifts, merchandise, funds in excess of $10,000, or broken glass into the United States until I was teetering on the verge of sarcasm.

Today I was the last in a long line of bus passengers, having forgotten to complete my declaration form beforehand. I chatted with the young Norwegian couple in front of me finishing the final few days of their four-week Seattle-Vancouver adventure. The agricultural inspectors laughed and joked when I cheerfully declared my container of half-eaten hommous, and then to my surprise wished me a happy birthday. I’m now back on the rolling bus admiring a beautiful view of Mount Baker while listening to Boards of Canada’s “In a Beautiful Place in the Country”. Maybe this is my reward for earlier today praising Seattlites’ warmth, courtesy, and kind driving manners.

I have had such rich experiences on Vancouver and Salt Spring Islands the past three weeks, and want to say more about the happy side of those. At first wildlife sightings seemed rare, but when I tally them now the list is extensive: Hummingbirds, dippers, herons, eagles, ravens, harbour seals, sea stars, a bat star, mussels, oysters, crabs, moon and lion’s mane jellyfish, rockfish, salmon, sole, and two humpback whales flipping their tails out of the water across Muchalet Inlet. Kingfishers, chickadees, deer, goats on the roof and on a cheese farm (one of which I helped rescue from its entrapment between a fence and chickenwire pen), alpaca, a mink, many rabbits, raccoons, the sound of otters playing on the shore. Carolyn and Derek were even visited by a crying coyote one night, which seemed significant since we had been talking about the transgressive trickster earlier that evening.

I fell in love with Vancouver Island all over again. It was the first time I’d explored much of the interior, and I discovered lakes, hikes, caves, rivers, and tiny towns with curious histories that I would love to experience more of. Plus there were the wild western beaches that I’ve always loved, surprisingly warm-watered, windy inlets, and a short pilgrimage to my grandparents’ former home at Qualicum Bay. Carolyn and Derek were very persuasive in their display of Victoria’s attractions. They get farm-fresh eggs and produce at stands only a couple blocks from their townhouse, and showed me hikes and sunset panoramas on nearby Mount Doug. Whales and deer and an abundance of bunnies – Victoria is a pretty idyllic little city. I also understand what my aunt in Cowichan Bay means when she says that when she comes home she feels like she's on vacation.

Over the course of the three weeks, I’ve slept in sailboat berths and hammocks; couch-surfed at my step-daughter’s apartment; stayed in the guest wing of a mansion bungalow perched on a mountain top overlooking the southern Gulf Islands and Olympic peninsula; spent many happy nights in the back of a Jeep out in the middle of nowhere; stayed in a truly sleazy motel; and been put up in the guest rooms of two beautifully and creatively decorated homes (one with a secret passage to the master bedroom…)

I’ve also eaten extremely well: three pots of increasingly delicious seafood stew; oysters, salmon and asparagus barbecued on the stern of a sailing boat; Embe Bakery apple oat muffins; the best coconut cream pie I’ve ever had; vegan poutine; truffle goat cheese, halibut baked in herbed lemon mayonnaise with farm-fresh veggies; crab for dinner, breakfast, and dinner again (I’m not complaining!); Portuguese rice pudding; and many amazing and abundant breakfasts. Today I am very much noticing the effects on my waistline. Hmmm.

To top it all off, I’ve been very generously welcomed and hosted by loving, daring, dedicated, wise, wild, and provocative people, and have been connected to many others by phone and email. My heart is full. I hope the record has been set straight. Life is pretty damn good when I relax enough to just enjoy it.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Finally Checking In Again

A few of you recently reminded me that it’s been a few weeks since I last blogged, and you’re wondering where I am and what’s happening. I am flattered that you have enjoyed reading the blogs and care about me enough that you are prodding me, and very grateful to still be connected with you all through this transition.

Although my belongings are in Ottawa now, I am not. The first few days there, I enjoyed being stationary, caught up on sleep, and settled into being with family. I also had two wonderful meetings with a friend of a former client’s (thank you, Nicole!) and with a second cousin, both of whom have experienced big moves, think of Vancouver as a second home, and were very welcoming and informative about life and work in Ottawa. Those two meetings were lifelines to me in beginning to feel connected to this city.

After five days in Ottawa, my mom, sister, brother, nephew, nieces and I left for a whirlwind visit to New York. What can I say about the Big Apple? I grew up on a farm, I love being outdoors, and I sometimes find the hubbub of a strange city overwhelming – but I LOVED New York. There were so many wonderful sights, tastes, sounds, and experiences. Three days was just enough time to know what I would want to do when I return. You can see photos of our visit here: http://picasaweb.google.ca/thorsell.lm/NewYorkNewYork#

Back in Ottawa, cousins welcomed us to their farm near Carleton Place for a barbecue and tractor ride; one of my nieces and I spend a day at a nearby waterpark; the men (my brother in particular) gave my Jeep much tender, loving care; and we celebrated an anniversary and two birthdays. Then I jumped on a plane back to the west coast.

I came here was to fulfill a pact made last summer to spend an annual weekend with five of my luscious LIOS women friends. This year’s retreat was on Salt Spring Island at the beautiful home of one classmate’s parents. Great company, delicious food, silly antics, morning meditations, a kayak trip, and a beautiful island to explore – it was all I could ask for. Yet I felt a bit outside, not as happy and connected as I would have been even a few weeks before, one foot in another world.

That’s been a common experience the past couple months. I have felt unsettled with myself, emotionally distant, irritable, or just plain lost. I haven’t always been able to be a good friend to people who have been good to me. These aren’t all-the-time experiences, but frequent enough to be a trend, and disconcertingly unpredictable. I have been completely happy and at home cooking over a campfire at a remote lake on Vancouver Island, or sitting in a kayak anywhere, but prickly and uncomfortable in more familiar places.

My summer has continued to be nomadic – I began writing this on a bus and am finishing it on a sailboat. After leaving Salt Spring Island, I met a friend at Swartz Bay and spent ten wonderful days camping and exploring from Sombrio Beach to Campbell River to the Nootka Sound – places I’d never seen before. After we parted, I returned to Salt Spring for a sail with Ross and Gina, spent three nights in Victoria with Cait, Corey, Carolyn, and Derek, and am now savouring another short sail with Alan and Eduarda near Cowichan Bay.

Earlier this week, I called my brother in tears, saying how ironic it was that last year at this time, newly separated and about to lose the home I loved, I felt so happy and joyful, while this year, travelling, being with people dear to me, with good health and relatively few concerns, I am having crying jags and feeling so out of sorts. It was so helpful to hear him reflect back to me the limbo that I’m in, and his faith in my ability to ride this river of changes through to calmer waters.

I talked with a few other friends that day, too, who reminded me that sometimes there is nothing to do but go through the experience as mindfully as possible, that, although it may feel painful and I may not recognize it, there is a healing happening. From his extensive travelling experience, Derek talked about the tendency to cling to the people, places, and times that we associate with happiness, love, and connection, when what is required is to keep relinquishing each day’s experience, each chapter of life, and to move on to the next with faith and intention.

At times, I’ve questioned my decision to travel this month, wondering whether I shouldn’t instead be in Ottawa being responsible and putting down roots. After talking with Derek, I see these travels not just as recreation, but as a practice – a practice in moving through life’s changes with acceptance, expressiveness, and grace.

Since those conversations, connections, and tears I have felt much more peaceful and happy. At the moment, I am sitting in Tabinta’s cockpit anchored off Charlie’s Cove. The water is calm, there’s a gentle breeze, blue sky is breaking through the clouds. My uncle, who earlier made omelets with crab leftover from last night’s dinner, is lying reading in the hammock on the foredeck where I slept last night. In an hour or two, we’ll get in the kayaks and paddle to Genoa Bay.

To those of you who have been on the receiving end of my moods and disgruntledness, please accept my heartfelt apologies. I wish that I could have been with you differently, and don’t know even yet that I can. I’m still practicing.

May we all be safe from inner and outer harm. May our bodies serve us well. May we be happy and accept ourselves just as we are. May we take care of ourselves joyfully.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

July 12 and 13: Home Stretch

While I appreciated having a shower in a real bathroom and being able to charge all my electrical devices, I found that I much preferred sleeping in a tent to the motel. I woke partway through the night and, after lying in bed for an hour, got up and went for a walk along the dark, empty highway. Even though I was with my mom, tonight I felt lonely. I sat in the Jeep and meditated. As I finally returned to the motel room for a couple more hours of sleep, other guests were outside getting ready for an early departure.

When I did get up, I was committed to swimming in Lake Superior and doing some yoga before beginning our drive. I hadn't done any exercise the day before, and consequently found the time in the car more uncomfortable. An abandoned service station and a few cottages were across the highway from the motel. I trespassed through one unoccupied lot to find a big, beautiful stretch of sandy beach and the clean, clear waters of Lake Superior.

The sand under the water was rippled like the ocean shore. While the tidal action on Lake Superior and Lake Winnipeg is minute -- only a few centimetres -- seiches create larger ebbs and flows. Paddling deeper into the enormous lake, I had to keep reminding myself that the water was fresh, not salty. The swim felt glorious.

I returned to shore and began yoga practice. Ouch. Ouch. Little flies bit my legs. I tried batting them away, but it interfered too much with the yoga. I tried ignoring them, thinking that the little bites only hurt for a nanosecond. I tried moving into the shallow water to escape them. Aaaagh! Finally, I gave up and retreated to collect my things. Insect repellent is apparently a pre-requisite for enjoying Ontario's great outdoors. Days later, my legs still itch and look like I have a mild case of measles.

Mom and I breakfasted at the Voyageur Cookhouse and continued our drive. When we were at Lake Winnipeg, I was surprised to see American white pelicans flying to their nests in the evening. Mom saw a small black bear disappearing into the bush soon after we entered Ontario. Since then, we've seen other wildlife, too: Racoon, deer, skunk, porcupine, beaver -- all lying in a dilapidated state on the highway. This may explain the abundance of turkey vultures.

We stopped for a picnic lunch in a village by Lake Huron, where I swam again, then pushed on towards North Bay. Again, rain descended through the late afternoon and evening. When we reached North Bay, I hoped to grab a quick drive-through meal and then find a campsite. Surprisingly, we could see very few fast food options from the highway. We followed the signs to downtown, but could only find one restaurant and a couple pizza delivery store fronts. It was dark, I was tired and got lost trying to find the highway again. We stopped and asked directions at a senior's home.

Back at the highway, we decided to get a room at the Travelodge and ask there about eating options. They directed us to Don Cherry's Sportsbar in a small stripmall next door. Many tiny towns on the prairies and in Ontario had signs proudly proclaiming them to be the home of some young professional hockey player, and the cafés often had news stories about these local heroes. How fittingly Canadian that our last supper on the road was eaten surrounded by photos of hockey stars of the past. Gordie Howe beamed down at us.

Again, I slept poorly indoors. I got up very early and finally did yoga practice in the hot, humid pool room. Mom and I showered, then went downstairs to eat. When we checked in we were told there was a hot breakfast. Hmm. This apparently referred to the the toaster for the bagels. Not what I envisioned. I am feeling grumpy and tired.

I'm sure that we did not see the best side of North Bay in our very short sojourn there. The next stop was Ottawa, and like horses nearing the barn we were eager to go. More rain drenched the roads, sometimes so heavily that I couldn't see the vehicles ahead. Traffic became denser, then slower. We were entering the first city we had driven through since Calgary! (Sorry, Regina. Your traffic just doesn't compare.) At 1:35, we turned off the highway (yippee!) into a residential neighborhood (phew!) and up to Karen and Salah's front door (sigh.)

I wish that I could say I was overjoyed to finally be here. What I was was exhausted. It felt good to get out of the Jeep. I devoured some left-over crepes for lunch, then lay down for a nap and a cry. I was overcome with nostalgia for the False Creek apartment I'd left in February, the last place that truly felt like home.

Somewhat rested, I recruited Mom and Karen into moving the contents of the U-Haul into the backyard shed. Initially we planned to just move some of it and leave the rest until Salah and Zachary (my nephew) were home to help, but when Karen realized how little there actually was, we plowed through and had everything unloaded by the time Salah arrived.

Salah guided me to the nearby U-Haul depot were the manager unhooked the empty trailer. For the first time in twelve days, the Jeep was free! The sixteen year old vehicle had clocked 304,477 kilometres pulling everything I owned across Canada, and never missed a beat. What a trooper.

Now the next chapter of this adventure begins. I don't know whether this will be my permanent home. It seems premature to commit that deeply. Really, the city and I have just started dating, so I'm thinking of Ottawa as my winter retreat.

Yesterday I had tea with a friend of a former client's who moved here from Vancouver three years ago, and had moved to Vancouver from Nova Scotia. Then I had dinner with a second cousin who moved to Vancouver for a job with the Olympic Committee, and moved back to Ottawa less than a year later. Both empathized with the challenges of making such a big move, both had great advice, and both said that they still think of Vancouver as another home, one to which they might return.

The downtown here is so completely different from any other city I've been in. There's an extensive area where an enormous stone building dominates each block -- government, hotels, consulates; all rather severe and intimidating. Then suddenly the streets break into lively stretches of restaurants, bars, cafés, and small shops in a hodgepodge of old and new. The Ottawa River marks the north edge of the city, backing the parliament buildings and marking the border with Quebec. The Rideau River and Canal cut up through the middle of the city, perpendicular to their larger cousin.

After a couple days' rest, I am enjoying being here and so appreciating being with my family. The weather is hot and humid, cicadas whine through the day and evening, there's a pool in the backyard -- it really feels like summer. A friend sent me the link to a graphic designer's rants that has had me in stitches (http://www.27bslash6.com/ -- warning: some rudity), and last night we watched a campy Canadian film called Invasion (it's original title was Top of the Food Chain) that was equally strange and hilarious. Laughter is good medicine. I feel ready for the adventure of getting to know my new home.

Next week: New York City!


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

July 11: Lake Superior

Sunday morning dawned with the smells of baconny breakfasts and sounds of a few hungover or still-drunk young ‘uns. I postponed my planned morning yoga practice so that we could leave earlyish. Our goal today was Katherine Cove in Lake Superior National Park, at the opposite end of the lake from Thunder Bay. It was recommended as a lovely place to stop. Typically we hadn’t been arriving at campsites until 9:00 p.m. or later. Today I wanted to arrive early enough that we could enjoy the destination before bed.

Our drive took us around the top of Lake Superior and through a relatively mountainous (hilly?) area. The mountains here are much older than those on the west coast, and completely covered with, you guessed it, trees. In some places the highway cuts through banks of red rock, and there were many lovely views of Lake Superior, its islands and peninsulas.

As Lake Superior is the largest freshwater lake in the world at 12,100 km³ (2,900 cu mi), the drive took a long time. At 7:00 we finally saw the sign for Katherine Cove – and there was no campsite icon on it. Drat. We pulled over anyhow, and it’s true, the cove was lovely, the beach sandy. I went for a wade, we stretched our legs, and then it was back on the road to search for places to camp and eat. Rain was threatening.

Guided by a young woman at the visitor information centre a few kilometres down the road, we found the Voyageur Cookhouse at Bachawana Bay. It was such a treat. Log tables and chairs, old snowshoes and other outdoor paraphernalia, Hudson Bay blankets, maple syrup for sale. The menu featured traditional local fare: tortière, baked beans, bannock, pickerel, bison. Yes, it was touristy, and maybe we had just seen too many rundown cafés in tiny towns by this point, but I appreciated the bright, clean, entertaining atmosphere.

By now, the rain had more than threatened: It had poured down dramatically and persistently with both light and sound effects. We surrendered to Mother Nature, and checked into Smith’s Motel just ahead of a young couple from Vancouver Island cycling across Canada who had been on the road for a month.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

July 10: First Day in My New Province

Before we departed Falcon Lake, I did a morning run through the campsites, along the lake and waterway. One the way back, I took a break from running for a quick and refreshing swim. (Lake swim #2!) Then we packed up and headed into Ontario.

Many people had warned me that the roads in Ontario were windy and slow. Now that I was driving those roads, I realized that the people telling me that were all from the prairies. There were many curves here, but very few for which one had to slow down, and for the first time on the trip I was able to maintain the very reasonable speed limit of 90 km/hr. I was still the slowest vehicle on the road, but proud to be finally doing the maximum. The Jeep has been fabulous – strong, reliable and comfortable, everything I could ask for in a vehicle.

We stopped in Kenora for breakfast and my Internet fix, then in Dryden to get groceries for a picnic supper and a scoop of ice cream. Along the way, we saw signs for Red Lake, Balmertown, and Sioux Lookout, towns where my ex-husband and ex-in-laws once lived and often spoke of.

The Lake of the Woods area is classic Canadian scenery: small lakes surrounded by trees and rock, everywhere but the lakes thickly wooded or swampy -- the land of Farley Mowat, Margaret Atwood, and Timothy Findley. Unlike B.C., the trees are short and often spindly, but grow as thick as grass. The woods look impenetrable. Human habitations are almost completely restricted to the few towns along the highway. This is moose country. Turkey vultures now replaced the hawks of the prairies and the eagles of the west coast.

After Dryden, we drove through to Thunder Bay. It was a long day, and late by the time we started to look for a campsite. I was tired, happy to settle for the first site outside town, attractively named Thunder Falls Campsite. As we settled in and ate a very late picnic supper, loud music began playing at a neighboring site. I went over and asked them to turn it off, which they did, but it soon became apparent that other sites were also in party mode. Poor judgement on my part: I should have guessed that a campsite near town on a Saturday might be a haven for drunken teenagers. We put in earplugs and made the best of it.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

July 9: Manitoba

The morning was already hot by the time I woke. I began the day with some yoga, reflecting as I practiced on the yogic principle of ahimsa, or refraining from causing harm to others. I thoughtfully smacked a few mosquitoes.

Before getting on the road, Mom and I swam in Lake Winnipeg – our first lake swim of the trip. Lake Winnipeg is the eleventh largest fresh water lake in the world at 24,514 square kilometres (9,465 square miles), and although generally shallow was definitely refreshing.

There are just over one million people in all of Saskatchewan, and about 1.2 million in Manitoba. Despite the sparse populations, there is evidence of people everywhere in the form of cultivated fields, farm houses, and tiny towns. We stopped at a café in Warren, Manitoba for caffeine and directions. A sign on the wall proudly proclaimed “Finest Coffee Served Here”. Locals at the adjacent tables generously gave detailed instructions on how to get to Lower Fort Garry, as well as tips on campsites and traveling western Ontario.

Lower Fort Garry, a trade post in the 1800s, is now a national historical site with costumed university students representing the original inhabitants and hosting tours. We took a “behind the scenes” tour in which we were invited to explore closed buildings, cellars, the back of the storehouse, and the costume area, then watched an Iron Skillet Chef bread making competition (the cornbread won). The actor playing the governor took his role particularly seriously, prattling on about the qualities of each bread and generally having some fun with his role. When we finally left the Fort, he was lowering the flag and we joined in singing “God Save the Queen” as it lowered. It was good medicine for me to have a day off from the long drives, and to have such a fun and educational afternoon.

After leaving the Fort, we drove about four hours to Manitoba’s eastern border. We didn’t once get on the TransCanada, sticking to secondary highways and country roads – such a refreshing change. The prairies were made for cruise control – everything straight and flat. Red winged blackbirds flit across the roads from one ditch to another. Hawks wheel above the fields looking for gophers. As we neared the border, trees and rocks began to appear – the edge of the Canadian Shield, and the beginning of lake and cottage country. It was also the beginning of the weekend, and campsites were packed. We were turned away twice before landing at Falcon Lake.

Tomorrow, Ontario!

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

July 7 and 8: Things Fall Apart

Tuesday night Mom and I camped at Cavan Lake, a very small rural campsite a few kilometers from the highway. In the morning I went for a run down the gravel road past fields of curious cows, small ponds and wetlands, and many colourful ducks, savouring the smells of the swamps, farms, and grasslands. Even rain smells different on the prairies. The one farmer who passed in his tractor waved back at me. The day was off to a great start.

The lake was too mucky to swim in, so after the post-run stretch I just splashed my face and hair. Mom and I packed up and got back on the road. 

After a few kilometres, we crossed the border from Alberta to Saskatchewan. Through the previous night and this morning, we were traveling through many small, small towns: Taber, the corn capital of Canada; Burnett, the location of the first irrigation spigot in our country; and a tiny hamlet that, from the many signs, seemed to be called Premier Sausages (maybe a good place to find a man?)

We stopped in Swift Current so that I could check email and update the blog. Mom was very patient with the break. Our next stop was Moose Jaw where we toured two sets of tunnels and hidden passages, the first used by a local businessmen to hide indentured Chinese immigrant workers, and the second used by Al Capone and his gang to smuggle booze in the prohibition. Who knew Moose Jaw had such a rich and lurid history? If you are ever there, they are tours worth taking.

Then came the most exciting part of the day for me: seeing Rafael and his wife Sarah in Regina! Raf moved there from North Vancouver in February to take a job with SaskPower. Sarah joined him only four weeks ago. I was so thrilled to see Raf and meet Sarah in the midst of this journey. Our evening together felt much, much too short.

It was late when we all parted, so Mom and I got motel rooms for the night. Feelings of fear and loneliness had been encroaching on me through the afternoon, and I had been poor company for her. In the hotel room, grief and fear overwhelmed me. What the f* had I done? What was I doing out in the middle of nowhere feeling so deeply disconnected? I cried hard for an hour or more. I thought of going back (where?) If I had somewhere to go back to, maybe I would have.

This is the time of letting go of one trapeze and not yet having a hand on the other. Being here makes me appreciate much more deeply the challenges of other people’s lives. I think of friends dealing with trauma, prejudice, life-threatening diseases, death and other painful endings; of the Chinese immigrant workers described on the tour who lived under dangerous, lonely, and oppressive conditions. Life demands such courage. I have so much support and so many privileges, am doing this of my own choice, and still this move sometimes feels difficult. It’s a good exercise in me developing more backbone. “Everything is connected, nothing lasts, and you are not alone.” Somehow that quote from a Tricycle article comforted me in the end.

In terms of sleep, I didn’t get much for my money that night. My sister called in the morning, and we had a good talk. I got an email from my brother. Then I met Rafael for breakfast at the Hotel Saskatchewan. Connecting with them all helped me feel more stable and capable again.

Mom met me at the hotel, and we got ready to leave Regina. A creaking sound had been coming from the trailer or hitch. Before we left Calgary, my step-dad suggested that the hitch might not be strong enough for the load we were towing. Now I had visions of it breaking on the highway, and the trailer being stranded. I wanted to get it checked before we left town.

In order to turn around and head east again, I needed to drive around a few blocks. I turned down one street to find it was a dead-end. Rather than back the trailer up, I decided to pull through the entrance of a multilevel parking lot. As I swung the Jeep around, we heard a load scraping noise from the back. The parking attendant called to us, “I think your bikes just hit the roof.” I stopped the Jeep to check. Yes, it was true. If we didn’t take the bikes down, they would hit the roof again as we exited.

I got up on the trailer’s wheel wells to check the bikes. If I hadn’t had such a thorough cry the night before, I would have started now. The front fork of my Kona was ripped apart and some of the spokes on the front wheel torn out. One of the winch straps my step-dad had loaned me had been torn in two.

A man appeared and started to help us. At first I thought he worked for the parking lot, but eventually realized that he was from the Legion across the street (and from the smell of his breath had been getting an early start on the day). He helped me get the bikes off the top of the trailer. I moved the Jeep onto the street, and then he helped me strap the bikes back on. Throughout, he was calm and encouraging. When he heard where we were travelling, he gave us tips about driving through Ontario. Such an angel. I am repeatedly touched by how kind people are.

The good news: the trailer hitch got a clean bill of health. The creaking sound has diminished.

Back on the road, I plugged in my iPod to find that I had inadvertently erased all the music on it when I last synched it. There was one CD in the car, so I played Marty Robbins to saturation. (Somehow he seems appropriate for the prairies). The rest of the day went well. Later in the afternoon, we crossed the border into Manitoba. Tonight we are camped on the shore of Lake Winnipeg (in photo above) at St. Ambroise Provincial Park. I felt so happy to get off the highway and drive some country roads to get here. The lake is vast, the sunset was beautiful, the bugs are abundant. I hope to get a good night’s sleep.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Tuesday, July 6: Back on the Road

I was slow to start Tuesday morning, not up until 7:30 and then taking time to exercise, shower, and eat breakfast before helping to attach the storage pod to the roof rack and load the Jeep. Then I couldn't find my camera. Thorough searches of the house and the bags in the Jeep were fruitless. Finally, I looked on the roof -- yup, there it was. Good thing I waited.

Lyle helped me get the trailer back on the hitch, and Mom and I were finally on the road. Our main objective for the day was a tour of the Japanese garden in Lethbridge, advertised as the most authentic in North America. As we headed south on Highway 2, we started seeing signs for Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump. I once read a short newspaper story about this UNESCO heritage site, and have wanted to see it ever since. As we got closer, though, we realized that it would be a 32km detour from our already extended route. We decided not to delay ourselves further.

After some challenges with the GPS device, we found our way to the Nikko Yuko Garden in Lethbridge. Our walk began with a tour of a large teahouse. A very sweet young tour guide showed us through the rooms, talked to us about the architecture and learning to tie her kimono, and told us that she loved the way the untreated wooden beams aged. Then we wandered into and through the garden. It was very typical of an Alberta park: flat, lots of grass, a few trees. The main feature was a waterway with two short wooden walking bridges and some areas of flat rocks along the sides. To the side was an enormous beautiful brass bell with a log striker (which I struck, of course). We left feeling disappointed. The Japanese garden we had seen in Seattle a couple weeks before was much more complex and beautiful

After my experience in Lake Louise, I was reluctant to go through another day of the trip feeling dissatisfied. Even though it would now be a much longer detour, I decided to back track to Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump. We arrived as the visitor's centre was closing, but there were still trails to hike beneath the bluffs. Mom took a break while I explored. I felt so happy to be somewhere wild -- prairie grasses, wild flowers, gophers, hawks, a Western tanager. The bluffs over which the buffalo were driven were so distinctive compared to the surrounding prairie. My soul felt soothed.

That evening we ate dinner at a Thai restaurant in Medicine Hat. The Thai couple running it had moved there from Winnipeg a couple years before, wanting their children to grow up in a smaller, friendlier community. The husband gave us tips about driving from Winnipeg to Toronto. We set up camp late at Cavan Lake, nearing the Saskatchewan border.


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Pit Stop in Alberta

I am so lucky to have such a supportive family! The first thing I did after pulling into my folks' in Calgary was HAVE A SHOWER. I didn't even take anything out of the Jeep first. After a short rest, we piled into Mom and Lyle's truck and drove up to Red Deer through a rainstorm to see my Grandma (92), Auntie Pat, Uncle André, cousin Jan and her husband Ron. It was particularly sweet to spend time with Grandma.

On Monday, Lyle and Dave got to work on my Jeep, replacing the steering box, the power steering pump (whoops, a casualty of the other repair), and checking everything else over. Dave gave me a roof rack storage pod that he had lying around. I got to sleep in a real bed and had three showers in two days. And I got a visit with my seven-year-old neice, Makayla.

Tuesday morning, I was recharged and ready for the next leg of the journey. My Mom was ready to join me! It's going to be so rich to travel for a week together.

In case you wondered, "Stay on the Ride" is the name of a Patty Griffin song.

You can now see more road trip photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/thorsell.lm

More later...

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Saturday, July 3: Day Two

I love waking up in the middle of nowhere. After freshening up, the Jeep and I got back on the road. Wilf Carter on the iPod sang the praises of the Calgary Stampede. He makes me feel so happy.

The first stop of the day was at the Swan Lake Recreation Centre to visit my Aunt Shirley and Uncle Jim. They had just sold their house, and I was visiting them on their first full day living in their RV. Like me, they've been paring down their belongings. I was impressed to see how neatly they had fit everything they needed plus a few treasures and mementos into such a compact space.

Their RV is an amazing vehicle. For example, the cabinetry is Amish-built, all solid wood with some lovely decorative carvings. Electrical awnings, a sophisticated HVAC system, four armchairs and a couch -- they look like they will be very comfortable in their residential mobility.

After a tour of the RV and a great lunch, I got on the road again. My goal was to get to Lake Louise, Alberta as early in the day as possible, but this section of the trip was probably the most challenging of the drive: curvy and mountainous. I had to take it easy going uphill so as not to overtax the engine, and easy on the downhills, gearing down and staying within the range of the brakes. I came to appreciate having the trailer in my rear view mirror. I could drive down the highway relaxed, as if I was the only vehicle on the road, oblivious to the two-mile line of traffic building behind me.

At the top of Rogers Pass, I stopped to get gas (just in time) and to celebrate the Jeep's odometer rolling over to 300,000 km.

I finally reached Lake Louise at 7:00 p.m. Throughout my childhood, my family made annual pilgrimages through this area and across B.C. to visit my grandparents on Vancouver Island. Having been through so many times I thought that it should be familiar, but we had never done more than stop once to briefly look at the lake and then drive on. Really, it was all new to me.

I hiked up to a lookout point, against the flow of other tourists making their way back down. Except for a family of whiskeyjacks, I had the lookout to myself. It was beautiful. I stopped for a while to savour the view, and for the first time on my trip felt lonely. I hiked down and walked the promenade to the other side of the lake. There was a hike to Lake Agnes and a teahouse that I would have liked to have visited, but it was getting too late. The teahouse wouldn't open until 10:00 the next morning, and by then I needed to be on my way to Calgary. Why didn't I have more time?

The dining rooms at the Fairmont Chateau on the end of the lake had all closed when I returned, so I had a bowl of soup in the saloon downstairs, peering through the tables of families and couples at a peak-a-boo view of the lake. My short visit to Lake Louise left me wanting much more.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Friday, July 2: Day One on the Road

This morning was the moment of truth: Would all my stuff actually fit into that tiny U-Haul trailer? I met the two movers, Farrell and John, at the storage facility in North Delta at 9:30. We didn’t seem to be off to a great start. Farrell pulled me aside to tell me that if John seemed grumpy and unhelpful, it was because he hadn’t wanted to work today, but someone else had called in sick. Hmm. I was paying for two movers, wasn’t I? Then we opened the storage locker and John said, “Are you taking half of that?” “No,” I replied, “I’m hoping we can fit it all in.”

Just in case, I started by pulling to the side the things I would sacrifice if I had to. This was the third time I’d pared down, and it was getting tough. I strapped my second bicycle on the roof of the Jeep with the first one, resigned that neither would make it into the trailer.

Farrell took the lead at strategizing how to pack everything in as tightly as possible. John at least seemed to be willing, and more friendly than Farrell had suggested. I pitched in here and there, but after a while there was little I could do but get out of the way and watch. They were doing a great job. We started including some of the boxes I’d put on the side. Little by little, it was all squishing in. 

Success! There was just one box left, and I put it in the back of the Jeep. By 11:00, I was all packed.

Before getting on the highway, I took a detour to Gary’s Auto Wrecking in Maple Ridge to pick up a steering box for the Jeep. The mechanic shop had quoted me $725 to replace it. Gary’s got me a used part for $100 cash, no tax. (Maybe it helped that I was wearing their t-shirt). My brother Dave will swap it in, and I’ll save $600. Phew! Thanks, Dave.

At last I was on the road. Waiting to do something is so often harder than doing it. I left Vancouver happy that everything had gone so well, with no tears. (Okay, I had a cry in the shower in the morning, but I’m talking about after that.) The day was sunny and warm, and the Jeep was running beautifully. “Happy Trails” was playing in my head. (Thank you!) The mountains along the Coquihalla Highway were green and beautiful.

What to say about the drive? The iPod kept me entertained and awake. I listened to Reggie Ray’s dharma talks, then to Hank Williams III. There are always things to think about along the road, like how do you pronounce Pinaus Lake?

In Kamloops, I stopped to visit one of my classmates, Michelle McMaster. After so many sessions at the Doubletree Inn, it’s good to see people in their home environments; so interesting to see another side of them. Michelle made me tea and we each decompressed after our very different but busy days. We dined at a restaurant by the river, sitting on the patio and watching a couple kayakers launch from the dock. Then it was time to get back on the road. Michelle ensured that I got safely onto the right highway.

I decided to camp for the night closer to Vernon, where I would see my aunt and uncle the next morning. It was dark by the time I reached Falkland. I saw a promising side road and turned off in search of a quiet place to pull over and sleep. The road turned to gravel, which I took as a good sign that there would be little traffic here. A few miles up, I saw what I thought could be a promising treed area to pull up into. I started up a short hill only to find a locked gate. Drat. I would have to back up, something I avoid as much as possible with this pesky trailer. As I reversed down the short hill, I realized that my brakes were not as strong as the momentum of the loaded trailer. Park brake! Thank goodness the mechanic fixed that. Then came the task of trying to get the trailer on the right angle to get back onto the road instead of in the ditch, where it was headed. That meant the Jeep had to dip into the other ditch a bit. Thank goodness for 4x4! With adrenaline and some positive self talk, I managed to pull it off: A crash course in what not to do with a loaded trailer. Phew! I'm wondering how much of my stuff will be in one piece by the time I get to Ottawa.

I returned to a flat area on the side of the road 500 meters back and pulled over for the night, adventures for the day at an end.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.