Happiness--What's That? Simplicity, Courage and LOVE

Happiness--what's that? Is it found in having people in our lives who care for us and for whom we care about or is it found in having people who stroke our egos and whose egos we stroke in return? Is it found in having  decent shelter and warmth or is it found in having a nicer, newer, bigger home than our neighbours? Is it found in seeking for ourselves or sharing of ourselves?

In our uber competitive culture we see self-serving raised  up as the ultimate source of meaning and means of creating happiness in our lives. Who is this "self" that we so desperately seek to serve? And at what cost to the environment and to those whose competitive ability is not fully intact? (Not that intact competitive ability is something that should be prized, rather that in our culture it is something that social/economic survival largely depends upon.)

This brings me to my dear brother-in-law Andrew's MacCormack's first documentary called Searching for Simplicity which he made in his early twenties while on travels in South America with friends. For those people in S. America whom he encountered, happiness was not nearly as tied up in stuff and comparison as it is for many in N. America. Rather the root of their happiness lay in simplicity: in having basic needs met and living closely with family and friends. It wasn't tied up in excessive choice of goods and services either. Corporations would have us N. Americans believe that choice is a reward of capitalism but in reality many consumers are weary of choice overload.

Eco-localism is one response to such overload. Thanks to imports we have far more than we need as far as goods are concerned on this little island we call Prince Edward Island and still not everyone's basic needs are being met. And because of having access to far more choices than we need, we develop wants that we confuse with needs.  Our attempts to seek happiness through fulfillment of those wants reaffirms our dependence on a system which sees us degrading our natural environment. This  further ingrains an underdevelopment of the local culture and economy. (The very high cost, both actual and environmental, of imported goods reduces our food security on PEI as well.) 

So what is there for us to do in response to such challenging times? Plenty if we are courageous and thoughtful!

From Pema Chodron's heart strengthening book entitled Living Beautifully with Uncertainty and Change  come the following words of wisdom:

 "In their prophecy of 2000, the Hopi elders said that in order not to be torn apart by these turbulent times, we have to let go of the shore and stay in the middle of the river, in the unceasing flow of life. But they didn't say we have to do this alone. 'See who is there with you and celebrate,' they said. 'The time of the lone wolf is over.'"


As often occurs within the individual on a spiritual journey, I am inclined to believe that we as a society are entering a period of being stripped away. That perhaps the degradation of our environment and the social and economic crises are forcing a stripping away of comfort and security. What remains may not be pretty, but it will be real. And I for one would rather see real ugly than fake beauty. How we choose to respond to what remains may be where our greatest hope for beauty lies. 

 Pema Chodron would call us to be warriors in our response to the living of our lives:

" 'We are needed.' We make this journey for the sake of ourselves, our loved ones, our enemies, and everybody else. Since we all share the same planet, it's crazy to continue acting in ways that will destroy it." 

Perhaps the most radical response we could be making is towards increasing the breadth and depth of our COURAGE and LOVE for the world.  Maybe we could work on transforming our understanding of ourselves in relation to all other beings in the universe. Once we stop seeing ourselves as separate from the entirety of it all we will be free to realize our connections to each other and to the rest of nature. Is happiness found in this?---it is certainly blissful in my own personal experience.

In beauty,
Jill

A Culture of Awakening

Admittedly I am not your average person when it comes to sharing my desires for seeing the world recognize its own inherent magnificence. I want us all to love and care for each other and the environment as we would our own flesh and blood--because we are all thoughtfully interconnected, flesh and blood of this majestic Earth. Yet I am not alone in my desire. Anyone who cares about and reaches out to help others or acts on their concerns about the social and environmental fabric of our world lightens the load of caring people. And it is up to each of us to sort out an approach to life that meets our own needs for meaningful connections while helping each other and the world at large. Thankfully there are so many inspiring people whose trailblazing footsteps we can follow in and whose wisdom we can learn from along the way.

In our all too busy lives it is too easy to forget that we are

the spirit of the sky, 
the bones of mountains, 
the flesh of grass and trees ,
and the moist tongue of the sea 
as it speaks the love song of our names.

We are creatures of rhythm and beauty. We are meant to dwell in cycles and communion with each other and the natural world, not live beneath the crushing weight and pressures that society imposes upon us.

A culture of awakening is forming in the hearts of those around me. I feel it in my heart that goodness is eagerly awaiting our unearthing. Community mindedness is becoming more prevalent. People are no longer willing to sit idly and watch as the rich continue to get richer and the poor more displaced. Environmental stewardship is catching on. But continued pressure on government accountability is always needed. And a willingness on the part of ordinary people to be self reflective and consider possible changes we can make in our everyday lives towards more sustainable lifestyles is always helpful.

Joyfully yours,
Jill MacCormack

Indulgence

Sometimes the world I love makes me sad and I'm compelled to write depressing poems. It's not usually one single thing which gets me down, more likely a series of unfortunate events or worries I have let grow too large. 
So how do I navigate the inner turmoil of being a highly sensitive person in a noisy, fast paced world? Working towards a balance of mind and body is always a good preventive, but when that has failed to happen and I am sad, or over- tired or befuddled by my own seeming inconsistencies, I tend to curl up with a cup of tea and read or write. 
Yesterday I was feeling a little too sorry for myself and I indulged in writing a double cinquain on wallowing in self pity. Anyone who truly knows me knows that practicing gratitude is a cornerstone of my approach to living, but every now and them I am given to writing a sad poem.

Wallow--
The word makes me
think of weeping, lonely
as the high tide mark of sadness
is breached

and I
am slowly drowned
by a sorrow I could 
have saved myself from had I known
better.

Jill MacCormack

In truth, my surest way to escape myself is to get out for a walk in my favourite woods, or by the pond or muck about with heavy boots around the ditches. And as soon as wellness and weather conspire to allow this you'll find me doing just that.

Right to a Healthy Environment

"We now realize that the layer of arable soil is a thin hope on which to pin the fate of human culture. Yet we abuse this fragile layer terribly by using chemicals in agriculture and by dumping our toxic waste into it." 

excerpt from  Tree: A Life Story by David Suzuki and Wayne Grady

Dear Reader,   
  
You are a wondrous creature of the Earth. Beneath the layers of identity you have created, you are magnificent, you are wild. And as a creature of this world you are utterly dependent on the natural elements the world provides: clean air, clean water and nourishing soil. Yet shuttered up in human made structures you forget your umbilical connection to the natural world. You don't require hair products for survival, nor do you require the latest in gadgetry or craft supplies. You are already good enough without all of these. In fact, you are splendid. 

 But you, like the rest of human kind and a great many other fascinating species of this world, cannot survive without unpolluted air, water and nourishing soil. Far too many people, myself included, make lifestyle choices which are polluting those natural elements our very survival depends upon. And still far too many people do not have even their most basic needs met. It is high time for thoughtful people to  engage in conversation and take action towards environmental stewardship and social justice. Perhaps you are the thoughtful person I am referring to.

The right to clean air, clean water and clean soil is not recognized by our Canadian Constitution as a basic human right. Taking action towards legally enshrining our right to a healthy environment is a step in the right direction. Choosing to live more gently in the world by supporting local initiatives caring for nature as well as ensuring our human needs are met in the simplest, most sustainable ways possible is another good step. The future of a great many species, the human species included, depend upon the choices you make as you go about living your daily life. And as I go about living mine as well.

And to all of you who already live your lives with the deep and abiding knowledge that you are  magnificently complex creatures of the wild Earth, may I follow humbly in your footsteps.

In warmth, 

Jill MacCormack
Best wishes for 2015!  
                                             
I just finished reading a local library book I borrowed called Tree: A Life Story by David Suzuki and Wayne Grady and I loved the book so much I want to own it. Instead I am sharing it with you. Seek it out for yourself. It is one of the best books I've read in recent years. It is a brilliant and lyrical telling of the life cycle of the majestic Douglas Fir tree woven through the complex interconnections a single organism engages in over a lifetime. It is provocative, humbling and altogether beautiful--a compelling reminder that we are all intricately interconnected creatures of a magnificent webcycle called LIFE. Where does a tree end, and where do we begin?

 Learn more about our right to a clean environment

First Snow--The Woods Transformed

As I write this we are experiencing the first snowfall of the season.  My sister Julie, her sweet three month old baby, my kids and I have just returned from a delightful walk at MacPhail Woods in Orwell. It was raining when we arrived and the air had a welcome briskness to it that we expect in mid November on Prince Edward Island. We walked past the ever beautiful old MacPhail homestead which incidentally, was still open for lunch from noon until 1:30pm this late in their season. Down through the old roadway covered with a thick blanket of wet oak leaves we traipsed with Julie's puppy running ahead, excited as the rest of us to be walking in such a beautiful locale.

Past the two towering hauntingly ancient stone drive markers and across the dirt and gravel side road to the wooden stairs that lead to the trail of three wooden foot bridges we walked. By the time we made it down to the river's edge the rain had turned to large wet snowflakes adding to the magical appeal of the still mossy green and fern fragrant quiet of the woods. We walked further than usual along the riverbank with Julie leading the way beyond where we usually turn to a place where a small stream feeds into the larger river. We came upon a little waterfall chortling as it made its way over the debris which created it. The sound of rushing water amid the hush of the snowy wood lent itself to a tranquil pause for us.

There is something about the first snowfall that is utterly trans-formative to my kids and I. Walking along watching as big wet splotches of snow descend upon the forest floor already slick with fallen leaves is mesmerizing. It reminded me that those banks of snow in later winter months are composed entirely of millions and millions of accumulated individual flakes. Just as a lifetime is composed entirely of individual moments, breaths that accumulate into stories, years. With this first snow you can see the little flakes sitting lonely on the ground, some resting in wet clumps, many melting as soon as they hit the still warm soil. We are part of this story that is unfolding. This was my sweet little nephew's first snowfall.

As we walked along my sister and I talked about how grateful we are to live in a part of the world that bears witness to the changing of seasons. Yes, admittedly, November and March are seasons of complaint here on the Island with their dull, wet barrenness, but they are necessary to the changeover and without them we could not fully appreciate the shifting nature of the land as it moves into and out of its requisite seasons of slumber and rebirth. We thought about how much more appreciative we are of the fragile and ever changing beauty of what each season uniquely offers us. And despite witnessing the changeover for many years we never tire of the wonder the first snowfall provides while slooshing through the wet leaves underfoot and pausing to watch the flakes descend through the now bare canopy of deciduous trees along the river. 

Life is constantly unfolding, and impermanence is part of the circle as it cycles onward.

My kids and I needed this today. We are at home on the Island while their dear father is on another Island; Cape Breton to be precise. He is there to bid farewell to and bury his ninety- nine year old grandmother. She was born in Big Pond, Cape Breton at seven months gestation, 99 years ago last spring. Weighing only two pounds, she was not expected to live the night and was placed in a shoe box in the warming oven of the wood stove. A fighter, she survived against all odds and went on to have ten children and live a full and honest life in Sydney. All of her  children and a great many of her descendants are gathered there today to pay their respects. I can see her resemblance in my oldest daughter's eyes.

Time moves onward, people grow old and pass away, seasons change and in doing so share many gentle lessons for us if we are willing students.

Today we bathed in the healing power of a woods we love. We watched as it was transformed by the soft glitter of the first snow, and breathed deeply as it transformed us as well.

Looking out to the snow right now it is difficult to believe that  it was only yesterday that we planted bulbs in our front bed in hopes that they will offer up to us their flowers in the springtime when we are all feeling more winter weary than today.

We are all humble, wondrous creatures of this Earth and to the Earth we shall someday all return. In the meantime, may we all share in the joys and sorrows of this world, receiving each equally as they come our way. 

In warmth,
Jill

Dancing with Bats- Sunday June 25th, 1995--When Will We Dance Again?

In my late teens/early twenties my mother bought a push button accordion at an antique shop because she thought it was too beautiful to leave there. She didn't know how to play but over the course of many a summer's evening she taught herself the basics out on the back deck. Perhaps this was to the neighbour's chagrin, but certainly to my own delight. 


On warm evenings I would join her to sit in the dark and listen to the crooning of her accordion. It often matched how I felt--melodramatic and a little off key. We would sit and rock on the rocking bench and watch as the bats, beloved night sky dancers of my childhood, swooped swallow- like from tree to eave. There was a rhythm to those evenings of my late youth that I have yet to match in adulthood.

This morning, while sorting through old plastic bins in my garage to donate (for worm composters ) to a fantastic gardening research project my oldest daughter is involved in  I discovered an old journal with a brief entry about one such summer night.

The entry went like this:

Sunday June 25th /95

(Tonight) Just now I danced with the graceful bats to the melodious music of the wind in the trees. And not just any wind, but the warm wind of a beautiful June night.

At first I just sat and watched the bats, a glorious summer's eve pastime, but then I was beckoned to dance in the cool dew.

The dusky blue sky growing darker as I danced- such a perfect, perfect feeling- such a perfect, perfect evening. I know days and sights such as these are good for the soul but tonight I really truly felt it- in  my soul- 

Just run and dance with the bats and the wind but do not dance it away- no, please let these summer evening's stay alive in me forever.

I am trying to recall the last time I saw a bat in my parent's yard, or anywhere but I can't. It has been years. Little did I know when I wrote the entry in '95 that bats on the East Coast would soon become decimated by a fungal infection called  White Nose Syndrome. Nor did I know then that for  many years I would forget how to dance in the dew. 

This past summer, I for a fleeting instant thought I saw one of those dark angels flit across my path. I can only hope that we shall one day meet again and share another dance. In the meantime I will put up a bat box in my yard as a hopeful measure and I will try to pay attention when I feel beckoned by the wind to dance.

Jill

Why Stealing Tomorrow?
This morning in my living room my three kids (14, 11 and 9 years old) were figuring out together how to sing and  play this song on the guitar and piano. When I heard them it made me want to dance again barefoot in the dew.

Dear World: Inaction is Not an Option

Below is essentially what I said at the two Global Chorus book launches I was invited by book editor Todd MacLean to speak at earlier this week:

Since having my submission to Global Chorus accepted two years ago I've struggled with the thought  "is my contribution worthy?" given that a great many of the contributors are internationally known inspiring leaders in social and environmental change.

Perhaps that's part of the reason I've come to Global Chorus. Believing that our contributions are not  worthy or significant is a huge stumbling block in the process of change. With thoughts such as these we are defeated even before we have begun. And everyone here today knows that we are not living in an age where the word defeated should be part of our vocabulary. 

We also know that it is far easier to choose to avoid difficult situations than to face them head on. But that doesn't mean inaction is a good choice for our world either. The forces we are reckoning with both socially and environmentally are not small forces but they are driven by a human element. We are not without fault, nor are we without recourse so long as  we urgently act with thoughtful consideration. 

And although it is wonderful to know that there are a great many people considering the difficult question Todd has posed as the basis of this book, it doesn't let any of us off the hook from making important changes in how we live our lives. We are all utterly dependent on nature and each other for our survival. Moving towards lives of greater social connection and environmental awareness as well as working towards the reduction of our carbon footprint is a fantastic starting point.

I strongly urge you to consider changes you can make in your own life. Look to the voices of Todd's book for inspiration but also trust your own instincts. We all need to do our part to help bring this, our wonderful and complicated world, to a place of greater healing for all.

Thank you!                                                                        

Jill MacCormack