A fresh, cool breeze in the air as I sit outside this eve. Summer has arrived on the west coast - I’m already browned up, lean and sun freckled (a new gift from the menopause fairy). Feels good to be in my skin. Fall and Winter were trying. My body, mind and heart tested to the max. As always, the pillars in my life saw me through it: my loyal tribe, fierce love for my kid, feeding people and the good that always comes from deep kindness and wide open arms. The new year started off with the premiere of An Undeveloped Sound (Electric Company/PUSH Festival), a piece I’ve been with for 2 years. Strange, beautiful and mammoth. Such a kick ass team of artists - wildly talented, funny as fuck, and really good humans.
Farming season is in full swing now. Such a pleasure growing veggies and caring for my honeybees. My little CSA program is already feeding the families at Progress Lab, with weekly harvests of crispy greens and earthy roots. Strong necked alliums, brassicas and legumes are up next. The bees at The Cultch are busy making their dreamy sweet honey and the apiary medicinal garden is too amazing for words: Lavender, Poppies, Sage and Honeysuckle spilling everywhere like drunken teenagers. A new learning curve this year - cut flowers. Putting some time in at an organic flower farm on Westham Island to learn the ropes. Comes with the added perk of working the farmers market - which reminds me why I do this. I love the early morning set up, shooting the shit with other farmers and seeing smiles on people’s faces as they walk away with armloads of Icelandic Poppies, Ranunculus and meaty Peonies.
Right now, in my industry, we’re standing in solidarity with our writers, who are putting their livelihoods and families on the line to fight for fair compensation. It’s a haul, striking is never easy. But a life of activism has taught me that if we lean our strong shoulders up against weak foundations, eventually, they will topple.👊🏽
Summer will take me to the UK for 10 days to perform Robert McFarlane’s The Lost Words. This gorgeous collection of poems for women’s voices and an orchestra is McFarlane’s way of keeping words from the natural world alive. Somewhere along the way, some genius editor from the Webster’s Children’s Dictionary decided that kids no longer had any use for words like otter, kingfisher, ivy or raven (WTFFF?). They and others were purged to make room for words from social media in the new edition. The Lost Words, a book of spells, as he calls it, is McFarlane’s protest, and I’m honoured to be a part of it. Looking forward to exploring London on foot and bike, filling my boots with art and food. And of course, a couple of nerdy forays to connect with some local organic farmers and beekeepers.
I’ll hop in my trusty old 4x4 and head to Syilx/Secwepmc/Splatsin territory a couple times this summer. I can feel myself vibrating to be up in that country I know so well, true north. Cooking for folks at a fundraising event at The Caravan Farm Theatre, skinny dipping in the cool waters of lakes and rivers, hiking in thick green forests and dry scrub hills, feeling my body sigh under the blue skies and brilliantly starry nights. And just spending time with creative comrades and old pals who stand like trees in my forest.
As always, I’m inspired and humbled by the things that other storytellers and artists put out into the world. Music On Main has been programming some seriously good shit: Vicky Chow playing Phillip Glass’s Etudes (fuckwow), Carolyn Shaw & Vanessa Goodman’s mulitimedia installation piece Graveyards and Gardens (fearlessly analog), Gabriel Kahane’s solo concert Book of Travelers (a suite of songs written about the folks he met on a cross country train trip, during a year of no internet or cel phone). Amanda Sum’s live album concert @ The Cultch, New Age Attitudes, was also an amazing thing. She’s an artist to keep eyes and ears on. And I always appreciate a good prowl through Janaki Larsen’s open studio days. Good reads: Thomson Highway’s autobiography Permanent Astonishment, about his life growing up way north, is exactly that - astonishing. Michael Crummey’s The Innocents. Margaret Atwood’s Old Babe’s in the Woods. Torrey Peters’ Detransition, Baby. Natasha Brown’s Assembly. And Nina Simone and The Beastie Boys smokin’ up my turntable these days.
I’m reminded of something Mary Oliver said about paying attention, being astonished, and telling about it. I think that’s what it is to nurture life deeply. I’m all in.