Small town-ism

The wheels are set in motion, literally and figuratively, and in a few short weeks I will be living small. In 200 sq ft to be exact. Lately I have reflected on what motivates me to live in such a small home, in large part to ascertain whether or not I am a) crazy or b) a genius (it turns out, both). But also, I wanted to understand how I grew into my current perspectives on space and stuff. Like all good thinking, it came together on a recent walk through the woods, when I realized that many of my choices to simplify life came from living in a small town. There is no Walmart, no Canadian Tire, no Starbucks, no Victoria Secret, and (happily for my wallet) no Whole Foods. Not having the opportunity to buy things has made me realize that I don't actually need them. I can eat simply and still be healthy, wear plain underwear and still feel sexy, and generally consume less of the things I never needed in the first place. The irony about this statement is that I have read it many times before, written by others, but until it is experienced, either by choice or force, it's only words and theories. (Irony police, if you still read this, I'm certain this is incorrect usage).

Less space: I remember thinking when I downsized from a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom house with ensuite bathroom and heated tile floors to a one room cabin with loft, how am I going to live without that bathroom?! But now, 11 months later, I have not thought of it once. Though at this exact moment I confess that it would be nice to have. A mistake I won't make during this next move - trying to fit all my furniture and things into a smaller space. Downsizing space requires a similar downsize of stuff and things.

Less stuff: I recall one fall when there was a pumpkin shortage in town. I felt a special wonder and awe that such a scenario was transpiring. 'You mean to suggest that there are no pumpkins for sale in town, anywhere?' With only 2 grocery stores, it doesn't take long to sort out the answer to the question. I also vaguely recall a similar banana shortage, though in hindsight there probably were bananas at the other grocery store. What this moment highlighted for me is that we are accustomed to having whatever we want, whenever we want it. Organic strawberries in December anyone? I get a similar tingling feeling of wonder and awe when the highways close and there is no way in or out of town. A pleasant note reminding us all that we're just humans, and that most things can wait until tomorrow (unless you're trying to catch a flight from Calgary).

Other factors that have influenced me over these last few months are two blogs I highly recommend; Raptitude and Mr. Money Moustache. Both Canadians (though one now lives in the US), they are always insightful and good reads.

Jet-lagged

At 4am, while I lie awake I think of all sorts of witty things to say. Now...a blank page stares at me. In case anyone is checking (hi mom, hi dad!), I will give a quick update.

My first two nights i spent in Konstanz at friends in southern Germany, a very cute town on a big lake. I received the requisite tour of the town, went to the lake, and generally relaxed and hung out...a great way to start any vacation. I then took a train to Davos, Switzerland, where I was very warmlz greated by folks at the SLF, and had some informative meetings. Then (because I am here to bike after all), I biked from Davos to Saint. Moritz, a cute resort town in the southern Alps. I spent two nights here, mostly because my legs needed a rest after a big alpine pass climb. Another smaller climb today, with what should be a fun down.

http://de.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Datei:Profil_Berninapass.png&filetimestamp=20051126175916

No photos unfortunately since I forgot a cable for my camera and the new blogger site doesnt work on my iPhone. Picture me, with snowy mountains in the background, eating cheese and landjagers.

I might try my luck at camping tonight, since I will be at lower elevation. Brr...wish me luck.

10 truths about Revelstoke

1. It snows a lot in Revelstoke, though not as much as it did 30 years ago, according to my old-timer neighbours. For this change we have the dam and climate change to thank.
2. Always valid conversation topics; your wood pile, how you heat your home, how much it sets you back financially.
3. You will be cold from October to April.
4. Once known as man-stoke, this name no longer applies.
5. Most, if not all, people in town love to ski as much as you do. So much so, that open mic nights often have multiple songs about 'snow', 'pow' and other forms of neige, to which the audience whoops and cheers.
6. It's cool to can.
7. Everyone really does know everyone, so be kind, honest, and accountable.
8. It is okay, in fact the norm, to show up to any and all events wearing mucks and a toque. How else can one walk through 2 feet of snow, wind, and slush, and arrive happy and dry.
9. The highway closes. A lot. Plan ahead.
10. Did I mention is snows a lot?

Get outside.

I have figured out the secret to overcoming writers' block; have a ton of stuff to do. Seriously. Procrastination appears to be the secret mojo. The more stuff I have to do, the more I want to do none of it and, instead, write. This clears up for me why I always seemed like such a keen writer while in school. Again, like now, there were more tasks than hours in the day, and I managed to fill it with a healthy dose of commentary on life's issue.

I have been reading a book lately (again, more procrastinating) on the loss of natural play in children's lives. Children now spend less time outside in nature, and more time indoors or in manufactured landscapes (playground, fields, etc). The result is a disconnection with nature and a host of social and psychological problems. The book cites studies that link ADHD with nature (time outdoors lessens symptoms), improved learning outcomes in children (children with more nature-based learning had higher test scores), and improved creativity and critical thinking (nature can be combined in infinite ways, while a manicured field of grass is limiting). The gist of the book is fairly simple, but speaks to a theme that is occurring in other areas of research as well. In health care, patients heal faster when provided views of natural settings. House prices increase in neighbourhoods with more green space. Crime decreases. It does seem obvious in hindsight. 'Oh you mean if my child spends more time outdoors than in front of the play station, she's likely to be better adjusted?' According to the book, yes.

When I was younger, being outdoors felt like the default option. I struggle to know how or why that is. I think it was a combination of our parents not having a ton of spare cash, liking to do cool things, and the good fortune of becoming horse and ski crazy at a young age. Winters were spent outside (the local ski hill was within walking distance), and so were the summers. I used to beg my parents to drive me out to the ranch at 8am each weekend morning, and would stay there all day. I'd come home for dinner, we'd have FB time (family bonding), then sleep and repeat. Cable was intermittent, depending on how my dad was feeling that month. Sometimes he'd declare TV the devil, and banish it from the household for months at a time. Instead we'd be forced to watch Planes, Trains, and Automobiles for the 74th time, or whatever was on channel 10. Being outside is still my default choice. Favourite summer-time moments are spent in a tent. Winter time, in a hut.

What am I really trying to say here? Get outside. Humans were not meant to live indoors, and we suffer the consequences of lives led inside of buildings in ways we cannot yet measure.

Are you doing what you love?

Some food for thought comes via a blog that I love to read and mull over.

http://www.raptitude.com/2011/11/why-do-you-do-what-you-dont-love/

Enjoy. Live your dreams.

Going to hell, in a run-down honda civic

What is it about living in small towns that creates a perceived license to drive big rigs, leave your behemoth running while at the grocery store, and generally treat the earth like your personal garbage bin? I don't know, but whatever it is, it's contagious, and I think I may be coming down with it. I have driven the 1.5 km to work more times than I care to admit, accepted plastic bags at the grocery store, and generally shown the environment the backside of my departing honda at every opportunity. I drive the dogs to our favourite walking spot (the one closer to me is not as 'pretty'), and have been actively seeking out the purchase of a gas-guzzling, polar-bear killing truck to ferry me, bikes, skis, and people up logging roads.

Last winter on my first trip to Revelstoke, I watched a couple get out of their truck, leave it running, and go into the store to buy something. We stood there staring in disbelief as they came back outside, realized we were gauking at them, and promptly explained that the truck doesn't restart reliably, so they have to leave it on. This occurred not 15 minutes after explaining to German visitors that yes, Canadians really care about the environment.

I am writing this blog post in an attempt to declare my sins, and my intentions, to snap out of it. I am but a shadow of my former bike-riding, pannier-wearing, walk-to-work self. It really is fascinating how quickly my motivations changed. Suddenly I am surrounded by vast natural beauty and clean(ish) air, so the urgency of what we are doing to the earth is diminished.

Out of sight, out of mind.

P.S. For the record, Revelstoke is a lovely blend of rednecks, hippies, mountain men and woman, and assorted people for which no category exists.

Truly Shocking

Paul Martin said it, and now Sheila Fraser has as well. Canada needs to move, and move quickly, on Aboriginal issues across the country. As a developed, wealthy nation it is ‘truly shocking’, according to Fraser, that First Nations communities around the country continue to live in poor, substandard conditions. While other Canadians experience improvements in their quality of lives, many First Nation communities continue to live in conditions that rival third-world countries. Water sources are undrinkable, housing is overcrowded or condemned due to mold, and all manner of social services from education to health care are underfunded. Some schools operate with limited or no running water, and allocated education funding is less for Aboriginal children than is it for other Canadians. Quality housing is hard to come by, and many First Nation communities have a significant number of homes requiring major repairs in order to remain habitable. Some families continue to live in homes that have been condemned, simply because there is no other choice. With the median income just $11,000 on-reserve, many residents are unable to service the debt that comes with owning a home, so instead rely on rental or social housing.

In a country with one of the highest standards of living, why do we continue to permit this country’s first inhabitants to live without clean water and safe homes? Equally as important, how do we go about fixing it? Some suggest that until Canadians care more about what is happening and demand action from Ottawa, the status-quo will continue. Others critique that we are imposing outside ‘fixes’ on a unique nation, and not relying on their traditional knowledge to guide the way. Lastly, some contend that we have created a culture of handouts; crippling communities from helping themselves. International aid organizations know from experience that providing financial handouts simply prolongs poverty and need, and does not get to the root of problems.

The causes are complex and multifaceted, and so too are the solutions. We need to seek creative alternatives that build capacity for First Nation communities, supporting them to help themselves without substituting our will for theirs. Aboriginal peoples have culture, knowledge, and relationships with each other and with nature that need to be the foundations of their future path, not relegated to museums of the past.