The Great Thaw of 2014

I believe it was this past weekend, the weekend of May 2-4, that I was walking home from the subway station and the wind on that bridge over Highway 401 felt like it was trying to bore through my brain. I put my hand over my left ear because I was actually worried about my eardrum freezing. This prompted me to indulge in one of my occasional fits of swearing at the weather (we all do it, come on), followed by a couple choice words like "Come on Toronto, let's get with the program!!!"

But this post isn't about the weather. It's about the thawing of my O-Canadian life. On February 14, I got my Permanent Resident Visa papers in the mail. After a quick trip to Buffalo on the 22nd, I now have the right to work, drive and receive government healthcare in Canada. Of course, in immigration-time, "now" means in 6-10 weeks, but hey, it's still pretty awesome. I've made some big decisions about my career, including giving up the idea of working in the Communications Field. I'm now fully committed to my original and strongest passion, helping people along paths of mental, emotional and spiritual growth. And I've been practicing mindfulness with quite a bit more dedication, which is opening up worlds of inner resources that I'm excited to share with the world. You can read about these at my other blog, Pointing at the Moon.


Oddly, the more I become used to life in Canada, the less I have to say about it. Perhaps that's not surprising. I'm less like a fish out of water here, and more like, well, a fish... in water? You know what I mean. I'm less interested in what's different about Canada, and more interested in creating my life here. The past year has given me ample time to look over the past, land in the present, and prepare for the future. Along with doing lots of yoga and making friends with awesome people, I've also written some memoir, some of which I may post here. I'd particularly like to tell the stories of my time on the U.S. West Coast, and the 6 weeks of traveling the U.S. that brought me to California in 2002. Though I would often silently curse my travel companion, John, for keeping me so long away from regular hot showers and kitchen luxuries, he was right: It was the trip of a lifetime. And since I don't have kids, I need someone to tell it to! (hint, hint)

For now, adieu; I wander off into the land of pseudo-bilingualism, borderline Americanism, and quirky national traditions like "bacon" and "tuques". A land where Catholicism is still part of public school, where the lakes hold more water than any other place in the world; and where indigenous people fight not-so-distant battles for responsible oil production, collective health and environmental sanity. A city where I feel completely at home, no thanks to the slow transit system or 60-story condos, but thanks to people, and the spaces of love and community they create.