Category Archives: Lumos Project

The Common is Extraordinary

Spider webs. Yep. Spider webs. Why spider webs? Because spider webs are pretty much awesome. The thought that something as simple and common and ordinary as a spider web could actually be really impressive probably wouldn’t strike someone who didn’t know much about the subject unless they were accustomed to looking upon life in wonder, but it’s true. And I just happen to think that it is really cool, so you’re pretty much about to hear why Marvel decided to make Spiderman a thing. First off, the tensile strength (amount of stress the object can take before breaking) of the dragline(main-line) silk of a spider web is comparable to high-grade alloy steel and is about half as strong as Kevlar, which you’ve probably heard of because of its use in body armor. Also, due to its very low density, a given weight of spider silk is about five times as strong as the same weight of steel. These silks are also extremely ductile, with some able to stretch up to five times their relaxed length without breaking and the combination of such strength and ductility gives it a toughness which equals that of commercial polyaramid filaments, a.k.a. the benchmarks of modern polymer fiber technology. All brought to you by the itsy bitsy spider which crawled up the water spout.

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What’s really funny to me about all of this is that I was never one of those boys who was all about things that are stereotypically considered gross, disgusting, and creepy. I just didn’t really see the appeal or the point, so I left well enough alone. However, there is something worth noting here: maybe it might not seem like a big deal, maybe it might not seem noteworthy or impactful, and in fact may appear very ordinary and simple, but when you take a closer look, when you understand on a deeper level what is going on and why, a change in perspective takes place, and what once might have seemed common becomes extraordinary.

Matter of fact, that is pretty much the story of my life. If you had seen me as a child, you would have thought that I was just some poor Romanian boy with not much hope of a future. However, people invested in me along the way; people were willing to take a closer look at who I was and see in someone common something extraordinary. That’s pretty much why I am here and why I do what I do. This same vision is the foundation of Charis, which is why, today, I feel like you need to hear a little bit more about the people working backstage. So, as you well know, Charis has been around for more than 20 years, but it wasn’t always in the form that you see it today. In its beginnings, it was a farm. Mr. Dani Ciupe and a partner who passed soon after the completion of the project together started this as an orphanage. It was funded by a larger organization for a few years and then was able to stand on its feet and went forward from there. The project, in its original form, took in orphan boys that were thrown under the bus by the system in Romania and tried to raise them in a family structure, with the Ciupe family adopting the boys as a part of their family and raising them as such. Besides the immense benefits of such an environment for a growing child, they were also taught many useful skills growing up on a farm and being put in charge of many tasks around. These ranged from farming, to building, to trade, to cooking, to maintenance, and so on and so forth. All of that, together with the rest of those skills which would be learned just by being part of a family was huge for them, giving them a chance at life where they had none. The Charis Foundation had a farm of several acres, with a large assortment of plants and spices, with many animals (at one time even 250 pigs), and took in about 25 orphans at a time.

That was when crisis hit, and as a spider web stretches and yet holds when the winds change and blow upon its thin but sturdy strands, and as a spider web curves to take a different shape in a different direction, so Charis took a different course. A law was passed in Romania that changed the rules for the adoption and care of orphans. These rules were so prohibitive and costly that the Foundation simply couldn’t afford any longer to take care of the orphans without going deeply into debt and closing their doors. Thus, to finish well what they started, they took the newly imposed costs and raised the children until they all finished the program, but then officially declared that part of the program defunct. Yet that wasn’t the whole of the problem. Romania gained its independence in 1989. Charis began in 1991. However, soon after Charis’s formation and solidification, a new crisis hit Romanian farmers: the supermarket. Not that that would necessarily be a problem in and of itself, especially considering that the supermarkets oftentimes buy local produce, but there is also a sort of mafia involved in these sorts of these things in many places in the world, and it just so happens that the Charis Foundation’s small farm wasn’t in on it. There was no way that they could compete with industrialized farming and the system, so long story short, they also partially shut down the farm, keeping only those parts of the farm that were self-sustaining, or that incurred very small costs. So, their initial plan had taken some hard hits, but they didn’t give up and had also made some very important connections on their way.

Thus, they modified their vision to turn the farm into a recreational center, camp site, wedding spot, and classroom. The granary and storage room was remodeled and converted into rooms for camp-goers and a kitchen. Part of the land was turned into a volleyball and basketball court and a children’s play area. What was previously a greenhouse is being converted into an indoor multi-purpose room and another greenhouse was cut in half and is being turned into a covered parking lot. Part of the indoor space was also used for different adult classes over a period of time and used as a cafeteria. An ingenious idea was using the rustic appeal of the area and the property for weddings and having all of the costs which were paid to the Charis Foundation go to support the different projects that the Foundation now is involved in, which can be found in more detail on their website. These projects are all results of the many connections that they made both in their farm days, but also since, as they morphed into a response team for whatever problems may arise in the community and thus became my connection makers while here in Oradea. I tell you all of this background so that when I tell you in the future of all of the work that I do at the center, whether that be construction, maintenance, or camps and events, you may understand the important role that all of that plays and its place within the bigger picture.

Thus far while at the Center, the team has taken care of certain things already. 1) Plastering. It just so happens that everything on the great continent of Europe is plastered, because that is what you do. Due to the fact that the Charis Center is also on the great continent of Europe, it is plastered. However, it was plastered 20+ years ago, so the plaster wasn’t holding up very well. Thus, we replastered the entire house.

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2) Painting + Derusting. Outside of the necessary repaint of the entire house once everything was replastered, we also painted the structure of the greenhouse turned indoor multipurpose area, the structure of the parking lot, and the structure which holds up the grapevines. However, when I say that I painted all of that, it wasn’t just painting for the sake of things looking pretty: it was also a sort of maintenance. Due to the dependence of the Foundation on volunteers and the lack of volunteerism up until about two years ago when a law passed declaring volunteerism legal and recognizable in any and every setting, this is all very much needed because many things have been put on the backburner for a long time because of the lack of volunteers to take care of everything. Thus, the paint that I am using a lot of times is not just normal paint, but a special paint that is made to eat away the rust, thus cleaning the metal and taking care of how the structure looks. 3) Weeding, especially the gardens and sports courts. 4) Preparing siding. This not only means the painting of the siding, but also the sizing and placing of the same.

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5) Some of the roof, especially where some shingles have blown off in storms. 6) Caulking and rubber sealant, especially at the windows, because it has a tendency to freeze over the winter and crack. And so on and so forth. There is always a lot of work to do whenever I go to the Charis Center to help out.

Towards the beginning of the trip, I have been going there to the Center to help out a lot more, not just because they need help in getting the place ready for the summer and all of its activities, but also because the connection with the different groups of children was slow in solidifying. When working with people here in Romania, it’s just a simple fact of life that their timing is different than yours and you have to respect that. As they say in Romania, „vai de tine” or ”Woe unto you” if you don’t understand that. But its great and I’m really happy with how things are progressing. I’m getting to build relationships with the children both at Sinmartin and Tileagd, and things are just going really well. By the way, for those who knew something about my project, due to difficulties traveling to Ineu several times a week, the Foundation changed their minds and thought that it would be better to send me to Caminul Felix at Sinmartin, simply due to the fact that it is more accessible and there is also the same large need of help present.

I have also been doing lessons with Daniel, an orphan boy that went through Charis’s program before it went defunct, who is living on the property and is working on building his house there.

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Every day that we work, we talk about how to say things in English, from the tools of his trade, to colors and objects, to phrases, to phrasing, and thus strengthen his ability to speak English at the same time that we are working on building and maintaining the structure, both of the building, but also of the relationship, all one little part at the time, just like how a web is built: slowly but surely. And surely, the fitting parallels between the pace of Romanian society and the nature of the relationships that it is built on are rather incredible, but hey, I would much rather be the tortoise than the hare, because of the great good of slow perseverance with people in showing love and how to live. Also, because he won, but that’s more of a side note really, because with people, it’s not about winning or losing in the same sense: it’s about showing love and persevering in it. And in that sense you win if you are the tortoise. In that sense you win if you are the spider. In that sense you win if you are willing to take the time to invest in people, to see the bigger picture in the mundane and the extraordinary in the common. And that’s what I’m here to do. So, though I may be weeding and plastering, or though I may be teaching children in a one-on-one setting, everything is tied to everything else and all of it is necessary for any of it to be possible. A spider web is not really a spider web without all of the strands, and often the way that everything comes together can get complicated and involve a lot of connections, but it is beautiful.

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And that’s what’s really extraordinary, the whole, whether we are talking about people or projects or organizations or relationships, whatever it may be, because although the individual qualities are crucial, in the end, how everything works together towards a common purpose shows the value in a way that maybe isn’t obvious unless you take a closer look, a closer look which shows that the common is extraordinary.

 

~David Gal-Chiş

Caminul Felix

So, I’ve been feeling under the weather for the past few days here. The great thing about feeling under the weather though, is that you gain a new appreciation for things that you might not have noticed before. You don’t notice how nice it is to breathe without something holding you back. You don’t notice how nice it is to just chill or do things without being in pain. You don’t really realize how great it is to simply be whole and complete. But also, you gain a new appreciation for a smile when someone is feeling that way, the understanding that something has been touched that goes beyond the surface and the general “feeling bad” that is going on. You gain a new understanding of the meaningfulness of any show of love because when things are going bad for someone, that’s, a lot of times, when you are able to see who the person really is. But here’s the thing: I may have been feeling bad here for a few days, but are there are some people who suffer from more than just some sickness and whose deficiency goes far deeper than mine. There are some people who can’t breathe because they are being choked by memories, by their past, by loss, by insecurity, by instability. There are some people who can’t just chill or do things without being in pain, whether they have tried to numb themselves to it or tried to fix it by other means, because the issue is too fundamental. I have seen a lot of people like this: clarification – I have seen a lot of orphans like this. And until there is someone who pours into their lives to fill the gaps where something has been missing, that’s how things stay.

As I have looked at life, I have seen that pretty much every problem that a child has can be traced back to the family, specifically the parents. Every person needs love, and every child needs a family. State-run orphanages in Romania provide neither. I would tell you about some of the things that happen there and some of the stories of children who have been there but I don’t know if you would believe me. Let me put it the way that Mrs. Ciupe once stated it. Now, the Ciupe family has taken in many many orphans as a part of their family through the program over the years, and knows exactly the struggles of these children and what goes on there. She said, “The children that come out of there, aren’t normal kids.” However, there was something else to her statement: “but the kids that come out of Caminul Felix are.” What is Caminul Felix? Caminul Felix is a privately-run orphanage in Sinmartin funded by charity, an orphanage that Charis just happens to be connected with. The way that they operate is based on the family unit with the participating families living in a village-style community. So, two parents, with children or without, adopt several orphan children as their own, and raise them until they get older and leave. Each family has their own house and there are several such houses on the grounds. However, this process of adding new children to the family and raising them cycles for each family, with new children coming in for every one of those that leave, thus allowing as many children as possible to be a part of this program. Caminul Felix is also one of the orphanages that I will working with during my stay here in Romania! YAY!

I will be working specifically in Village 1 (Sinmartin), in House 1, with the lovely family of Loredana and Ovidiu Csoka. I will integrate myself into that family and be a tutor for the children there, working with them on their homework and lessons that they get when they go to school, whether that be English, Math, Romanian, Writing, History, helping them master the material. I will work to form relationships with the children individually, spending time with them, talking with them, encouraging them, playing with them, teaching them, and truly showing interest and investing in their lives. So, really, I’m not just being a tutor: I’m being a mentor and I’m being a friend through my capacity as a tutor. And here they are! 🙂

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You may not think that ten children would be a handful, but you would be wrong. In fact, the first day that I went there, I might have been just a little bit overwhelmed, but that’s ok. I wasn’t sure exactly how everything was going to function, how I was going to go about the things that I was doing, where I would be most useful and helpful and needed the most, and things of that nature, but everything worked out so perfectly, it could have been a crossword puzzle. The children all have taken really well to me and it’s actually kind of funny how all of them want to do their homework with me and play with me and have me show them how to play mandolin and show me their pet chicken or fish all at the same time. It’s very humbling, but at the same time, it’s also exhilarating and extremely hilarious. Maybe it’s just because I love children, but I can’t even express to you how sweet they are, how open they are to love and be loved, how much they just want a friend, the way that they smile and light up when you give them some attention and encouragement, and how much hope I have for the future of these children. I just love everything about what I am doing right now so much, it’s spectacular. It’s also really cool (and hilarious of course, because everything about children is just really funny and silly and great) for me to see the kids, who unreservedly, unabashedly, and unequivocally do not like school, get excited about homework and the things that they are learning because they get to do it with me and I’m so honored that I get to cultivate this friendship with them and help them in life through that. It might have made me cry several times privately already, but that too is ok. [sniffle, sniffle] Distract focus: and here are some of the kids and me working on homework together: Romanian, Writing, and Math in the first one and English, Math, and History in the second one.

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Between tutoring, music, playing soccer, pets, talking, and trying to organize everything so as to spend time with each child, I have been pretty busy, which is really wonderful, because I came here to help people and show them love, and that’s what I’m getting to do. So, this is all 100% spectacular!!! 🙂

There is so much to cover, even without going into excruciating detail, and I will try to cover as much of my work as I can as I go. However, I’m sure many of you were earnestly desiring to hear about jet lag and my ability to adapt and survive in life, so here goes. I went to sleep the first night with approximately zero problems getting to sleep, slept eight hours, and woke up the next morning feeling like 407 RON. I then proceeded to find out that people are the same everywhere in the world, just as I suspected, and continued living life and having a wonderful time with it. As I am doing right now. As you should be doing too, because life is too short to do otherwise. So, I swung by the city of Cluj this past weekend visiting my uncle Florin and we hit up the Festival of Lights from whence cometh this gloriously awesome-sauce candelabra.

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Really, it was only fitting considering life. And Lumos. And the pursuit of lightening up the world with hope and love. And yes, as usual, that was on purpose. So, with that: grace and peace all you Lumos peoples!! 🙂

~David Gal-Chiş

 

P.S. Charis has a new website that they launched this week! HOORAH! http://www.charisfoundationromania.org/

P.P.S. Caminul Felix has a website that was not launched this week but that is still really cool and you should check it out! HUZZAH! http://caminulfelix.org/

To Leave, Yet to Be Right at Home

WHOOHOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To think, soon, I’ll be headed off on a plane headed for a place that I call my home, but that I don’t really remember all that well. It’s been eight or nine years since I was last in Oradea. I’m sure a lot will have changed, that I will see a lot of new things, and probably a lot of old things and be surprised by the change. But I’m soooo excited for it!! Everyone tells me that it will be a huge transition, warns of culture shock and all the rest of it, but I’m not sure that I buy that. People are people wherever in the world they may reside and whatever way that they may think about life; which really serves well to lead me to my next point, namely, that people being people, they still have struggles, hardships, and need someone who will unconditionally love them, care about them, and sacrifice for them. I do too. Everyone does. That’s what home is.

That is why I find it so important to really start at home when it comes to giving and helping, and expand out from there, because really, if I go and help elsewhere without first taking care of the home front, then I am neglecting my greatest and most important responsibility that I, in fact, am meant to take care of and know to take care of better than anyone else. I have been blessed with many opportunities to lead and serve in Tennessee, from activities with my church or nearby churches, to those through school organizations or even that I have personally organized, and I have taken them because I realize that my primary responsibility is to love those around me, realized through the love that my God has first shown me. Some may think that this idea of responsibility is one that conveys burden, but that is a narrow, incomplete view of the grandeur of such a thing. There is also the idea of love, when that which one ought to do is performed not by obligation, but due to convictions grounded in the depths of man’s soul, an idea which contains within the fullest realization of propriety and morality in understanding that obligation by command is only the failure of obligation by love, the understanding that honoring commands in joy is truly the highest honor man can gain, making the desire to love written on my fiery coal of a heart shine forth as the brilliant manifestation of everything I should strive for. And that was a long sentence.

Confession: in writing, there are two things I like to do: 1) Write really long sentences and 2) Not paragraph. Yes, paragraph should be verb. I just have this theory that combining a lot of ideas into one sentence helps to convey a fullness and depth ensuing from the lack of any separation except for possibly breathing and moments of deep thought as one processes several things at once and so makes really fantabulous connections. I believe this theory. I also really want you to understand my trip as understand my life, and thus my trip as I experience it, and I can tell you: I don’t live in paragraphs. There is not a neat, nice, clean stop—ok guys, I walked into Starbucks, new paragraph—no. I walk into Starbucks pondering the wonder of the cool breeze, the destiny of man, what in the world that lady has in her hair, the new topic covered in Physics course, and everything in life, consecutively, of course. There is a beautiful mesh and continuum that is really a fuller understanding of the nature of the art of loving what you have been given and being content in life. I also understand, however, that people like paragraphs. I also realize, hurt my heart though it may, that not everyone loves British literature as much as I do, and thus not everyone likes long sentences either. I know, shocker. It’ll pass, with time. Drink some tea. One thing that you might notice if you <3 English grammar is also that I like to have fun with words as well as English grammar. Call it artistic license. Call it humor. Call it a fullness of expression in the careful, thoughtful transmission of the wee emotions to properly convey the complexity of the experience. I will probably agree with you on all counts. In fact, in efforts to even further agree with the collective experience of the ages, I will probably go back and paragraph.

Truly though, I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing this. I hope that you enjoy the heights of depth and the depths of the heights of my joy because what you read, and how you read it, and the way in which you understand how I have written this, will help you understand my journey. I have writing and pictures. Yet in these forms is an ocean of feelings, sights, sounds, smells, tastes, people, places, things, wonder, awe, respect, joy, love, and so many other things that I could never express to you if I had a million years to communicate with the express purpose of bringing you along with me. I also don’t want to overwhelm you too much. If I overwhelm you a little bit, that’s ok, because I am kind of overwhelmed as well by all of it, so you feel me. But check this, all of you wonderful Lumos people who in your kindness have condescended so to grace my blog: I know that you all get tired of reading and processing too, and you all have lives outside of this thread in the Internet world of flying photons, so I will probably, most likely, possibly, probably try to keep these at legible lengths. I really am, for your sakes. You know, most professors have a class dedicated to introducing the class, so consider that we are getting on the same page in today’s session on how to light up the world. By the way, smiles help. And I like puns. Beside the point, although we are talking about life.

I just thought that I should try to explain myself a little bit so you don’t feel like you are being thrown over the deep end, landing in the kiddie section and hurting yourself. I want you to feel like you are being thrown in the deep end with the full knowledge of how to swim so that you can truly experience the wonder of the light as it refracts off the surface and penetrates the medium while immersing yourself in the refreshing coolness of life. When I say things on this blog, I want you, reader, to understand that every word has had an immense amount of thought placed in its writing, and oftentimes is a metaphor for life. I also want you to understand that, excepting this past sentence, whenever I write things, especially those things about myself or related to me, I almost always am imagining it, not simply enunciated dramatically (and seriously: without sarcasm), but also in an accent as I am writing it. Just pick several: British, French, German, Italian, Russian, Southern, North African male, Indian, African-American lady, and many more—just make sure to have fun when you do it. One may disagree, but I think I am doing a better job of explaining the depths of myself in the depths of my joy and enthusiasm through this methodology of expression. It just spans cultures, sort of like what I am going to be doing here in Romania.

By knowing the Romanian language and culture, I will be able to love people in a way that they understand it, teach them English in a way that they comprehend it, help people in a way that they need it, and thus be of greatest use here where I am. Whether helping the orphan boy Daniel who lives at the Charis Foundation Center in Santion, Romania by helping him build a house for himself while teaching him English and just being his friend, by teaching English and music to children in an orphanage in Sanmartin and forming relationships with them over a period of 3 months, doing a similar work with a group of Romi children in Tileagd, assisting at one private nursing home in Dumbrava where one family takes care of 160 elderly in four houses by charity, the nursing home oftentimes being populated by residents kicked out of the state-run nursing homes because the state couldn’t afford to take care of them, and so on and so forth. There is a need here. For several years now I have taken care of needs at home in America, in Tennesse, where I grew up, but now I feel led to move on to my next home, and help there as well, because everyone needs love.

I don’t know what may lie ahead of me, though I’ve grown up on stories of place. It’s like I’m a dwarf from the Hobbit, looking towards the Misty Mountains, thinking deep deep deep thoughts of what hidden treasures may lie on the other side of this great mound of Earth. In fact, I am.

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Call it pre-travel travel, traveling to traveled places from a long time ago in a land far far away. Call it leaving home, only to go home. I will be with my family in America as well as in Romania. I will get to give and help and serve and love people in Romania just as I did in America and thus I will get to give back to my people from the motherland as well. Really, I’ll still be home because my home has always been where my heart is and my heart is everywhere, with several focal points, of course, but still everywhere because where I can live out love is somewhere that I’d want to be and somewhere where I’d belong. I’m home, going home, and waiting to go home. Riddle me that. I’m not even sure how to express this, I’m just so excited, so enthused, so happy and thankful and grateful to be where I am right now as well as for this wonderful opportunity, thanks to Lumos, to love people.

So, subtle tribute to them,

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and I am really looking forward to having you join me on this experience of a lifetime and hearing your thoughts as I overwhelm you with weird metaphors, abstract references, overly long sentences, and everything in life. Why? Because I find that the best things in life tend to be slightly overwhelming if you think about it a little. And this is pretty great. 🙂 So, grace and peace to you all, and here I come!!!

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~David Gal-Chiş

 

Why Kenya?

I graduated from college yesterday. In about one month I board a plane to Kenya. (I am also taking the GRE between now and then). I think about all these things and I have to laugh and cry and remind myself to breathe. Now that graduation is over, my real preparation begins.

On June 16th I leave for Muhuru Bay, Kenya, a small fishing village off the coast of Lake Victoria. I will live at an all-girls secondary school, WISER (the Women’s Institute for Secondary Education and Research.) My project is based on researching and documenting how the WISER model of education is creating an enabling environment for empowerment for young women (in hopes of the WISER model being replicated in other Kenyan communities).

Again and again, I have answered the question: “Why would you go to Kenya?” This question has has been asked in different forms and through different frames — sometimes out of genuine curiosity, sometimes out of deep concern,  and sometimes simply out of confusion.

I think I can better answer the “Why Kenya” question by answering this one: “Why are girls’ rights important to you?” This issue is important to me because it is important to our world. Girls having equal opportunities to choice, to education, and to resources provides better economic, social, and health outcomes for girls and boys, for men and women, for everyone. It is important because it is a human rights issue. Because every girl deserves to be seen, to be heard, and to be known. Because I am girl. Because I have been celebrated for being a girl from the moment I took my first breath.

I am privileged. My privilege is all over me. Irreversible, irremovable.  I wear it on my skin. I display it with my freedoms. I can hear it in my voice, my words. I carry it with the diploma I received yesterday. I live it with the choices I make for my life. Privilege is not the reality for most women and girls on this planet. Without change, without movement, and without support for education it never will be.

The best way to support me and to support this project is to tear down the political and geographic barriers that we often subconsciously put up when we think about global issues. Donate to WISER and educate yourself on girls’ rights around the world. Follow me, travel with me, and learn with me.

Happiness Loves Company Too

I boarded an international plane back to America nearly two and a half weeks ago, and if I was being 100% upfront, I was extremely torn. I returned to five pm sunsets and cloudy skies, to welcoming warmth and winter chill. I returned to Christmas bedlam and New Year fervor. I came home to the dawn before political back lash in 2012 and to the chaos of filling out job applications. How do you honestly pull yourself away from Beauty once you’ve seen and touched it? How do you remove yourself from a location that encompassed 24/7 of healthy living, where all you had to do was say “yes” and it was available?

My best friend in the States explains it better than I probably ever could. Here was our conversation, through online interaction, after my first few hours away from Marama…

December 13th at Rucksacker Backpackers in Christchurch. Me:   “So, I’m off the farm. I barely slept last night a part from Clyde coming to visit (she stayed with me the first night and the last night I was there). And this morning I stayed strong until I hugged Tina goodbye and got in the car. I’m assuming Giselle couldn’t see my tears because I was wearing sunglasses, and I held back most of them on the way to the bus stop in Gore – even when we passed the boundary sign on the way out (god that was hard to see). Then Giselle cried after my luggage was put under the bus. Then I lost it too.

And cried most of the way to Dunedin where I met Graham for lunch. You know how much I hate crying. The worst part is Dunedin is two hours by bus.

Things have been better since but my heart aches a lot. Now I know how you felt when you left your friends in England. We practically had a new family, pure and precious and unconditionally loving to us, and it’s almost like they were only there for an instant and suddenly yanked away. Neither of us have any idea if we will ever see any of them again. I only wish I had as much time with them as you had in Sunderland.

How long does this feeling last?”

Heather Cooprider:Stephanie, darling, first of all I am so sorry you have to go through this. It is without doubt one of the most weighted feelings you can experience from a life abroad.

With that said, it is also something that fundamentally moves you. It is my belief that you will now always have a life that goes on there, continuing to live and work and be with the farm. It won’t only be a memory. A piece of you will forevermore be there, watching sunsets from your window and laughing at the table with Giselle, Graham, and all of the beloved people you became a community with in New Zealand.

Of all the things I could say about our shared experience of loss in this, I want to say that I am glad we can share it. I can’t express to you in this message how crushing the moment was on the tracks to London, listening to Southbound Train, staring out the window, and crying silently, watching shadows of my experience and the people I loved flash past me over the summer fields. It would never come again the way it had been, who I was there could not be who I am now, because the train kept going, with or without my consent.

Yet, I knew then as I know now that I left a part of me back there in Sunderland, and that part would continue to walk the littered streets past the pubs full of people, it would stare out across the English channel while crossing the Wearmouth bridge, it would cook soups from scratch for beloved flatmates and friends, and it would smile and laugh with a freedom the part of me writing this message matches when I call out to its memory.

I am sorry, and yet not sorry, to tell you that the feeling never goes away. It fades, as you continue to live where you are and who you are now, but it will never leave you. The weight will hit you unexpectedly, when you’re walking, or talking, or about to sleep, and you will stare off for a moment, caught back up in the life you had, the community you were in. It will cause you to talk about it with people who will never fully understand, and after time they will understand less and less, as time departs farther from the moment you were at Marama. I am sorry that this may not be the news you wanted to hear, but I feel it is my duty as your best friend to tell you the truth.

Just remember, you are not alone. I deal with this as you do, and though it was a different place, a different experience, it is still a shared weight, and something we can hug, laugh, and cry over. You will be fine. It may be difficult to come back, hard to adjust, but as long as you know a part of you still lives on there in New Zealand, the weight will be a blessing.

I love you very, very much. And I am with you.”

I found myself persistently asking what will you remember the most? …the hard work and proving you could do it? Sure. …the lessons you needed to learn and the education of organic farming/gardening you acquired? Of course. …the sights, the smells, the raw liberty? Absolutely. However, now that I think on it, no tangible object or intellectual property could truly come close to the souls I’ve met and engaged with along my journey. So, I’d like to dedicate my last entry to those of you who became a part of the Lumos project too. Below are the moments and the once-strangers-now-friends who got me as close to earthly rapture unlike ever before.

Alec, from Scotland, & Martie, from Seattle – our “poo”losophy revelation planting pumpkin seeds; singing Akuna Matata in the spa pool; the pyro master; random facts; creating the recycling center; your love of whiskey and avocados; Peter, the neighbor, asking if you would trim his gross bushes since they were brought to the country from a Scotsman; crutching practice

Shelby, from San Francisco – laughing at my pronunciation of bible and key Southern phrases; finding Wally (New Zealand’s version of Waldo) on every page except the last one; ghetto mocha; making the best pizza I’ve eaten while abroad; your pride over weeding perfectly all around the strawberry plants; reading neurology articles out loud; acid jokes

Laura, from Tasmania – the Ted walk; the “ghostbusting queen of drenching”; you and I hiking to the river; the first person to ever get a song of mine stuck in their head; whipper snipper vs. weed wacker; perfecting rhubarb crumble; the lengthy debate over 1080 with Graham

Jana & Justus, from Bavaria – nicknaming you “doch & oder” and you nicknaming me “thingamajig”; the tailing marathon; 2 marbles left on your first try playing Solitaire; the other Germans and their world record of the shortest WWOOFer stay; missing Beau’s birth because we were tailing in the wool shed; watching the movie Babe and laughing our heads off at the scenes with the three mice; Spot’s death procession; potato salad masters; a record of 14 liters in one milking; illegal sweets/treats; playing games of Rummy; using your fascination with German breweries as a bribe to get me to come to Nuremberg

Agata, from Chicago – hugging me as I cried after finding out my dog in Tennessee was killed; watching the sun disappear from the airstrip and later star gazing in the spa pool on my 23rd birthday; photo session with putting sunglasses on Hatch; playing with the ‘flyshooter’ in the dining room; finding the giant wall painting in Gore; your incredible chilled, chocolate drinks; Tom’s high-pitched squeals as you tried getting him back into the pig pen; going to the river to cool off; your creation of a ‘tree obstacle’; the most hilarious chicken herding attempt I’ve witnessed

Dave – the “slacker” or earning every Speight’s you drank; our waves and salutes as we passed one another; bringing you sunscreen because of your lack of memory (and getting burned anyway); your soft-spoken voice and kindhearted nature; singing “It’s Not Easy (To Be Me)” by Five for Fighting after picking us up from the river; how I never beat you outside in the morning; Tina – “You naughty sheep!”; your beautiful and intelligent son; becoming champion herders for morning milking with Missy & Beauty; countless chuckles and timeless conversations over things that mattered and things that never would; having a theory for everything; your contagious smile and laugh; a day out in the paddocks on the quad bike; fencing (or our best attempt at it); my jealousy over your ability to tan; having the touch with animals; my ride to Gore and back; chocolate sprinkled cupcakes for my birthday; my kayaking partner

Giselle & Graham – the people who gave me the opportunity to change my life for the better; my new, adopted Kiwi relatives

Over the last three months together, we labored toward the future of Marama Organics and toward ourselves, just as those before us had and those to come will. We stood the test of time and nationality and cultural differences. Here’s a final, written toast to each of you and the permanent impressions you’ve marked within me. Here’s to your faces I shall never forget. But most of all, thank you for teaching me that our short and self-driven lives should never be concerted from behind the curtain, and rather, LOUD and proud and front of center stage. May the lives you lead be long, jolly and full of music.

You are all rockstars. Know that I was incredibly happy with your company.

Bon voyage,
~Stephanie Brake

 

“‘Well,’ said Pooh, ‘what I like best,’ and then he had to stop and think.  Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.”  ~A.A. Milne

My Organic Defense

Go ahead and cut to the chase, Stef. What’s the real harm in commercial farming?

For starters, it’s estimated the United States is at a 2% domestic production rate of what it was in 1930; the nation lost farm and ranch land 51% more in the 1990’s than in the 1980’s, according to the Huffington Post (search for “Vanishing Farmland: How It’s Destabilizing America’s Food Supply”), at about a million acres per year. In California alone, our Hail Mary of prime farming regions, 1 of every 6 developed acres since the Good Rush disappeared from paving between 1990 and 2004. The majority of American farmland today is used to grow corn stocks that feed CAFO’s (factory farms) of beef, poultry and pork OR eventually becomes high fructose corn syrup for nearly every processed item we buy in supermarkets (to assess what CAFO’s are about, try here: http://www.sustainabletable.org/issues/factoryfarming/ and for high fructose corn syrup, try here: http://www.princeton.edu/main/news/archive/S26/91/22K07/).

This all means for the last 7 decades, general efficiency, quality and sustainability of food security has shrunk so much and so fast that I doubt the long term repercussions have been entirely thought through by consumers, including me. The chances of accessing and providing proper vegetables, fruits and meats the human body craves and needs and all too often deprives itself of seem pretty bleak in the global food economy we help to reinforce and safeguard. Fields are turning rock solid, and we can forget about the giant, beautiful red barns and Little House on the Prairie. Think growth of large corporations. Think dependency on foreign imports. Our current industrialized path, once assumed to be an easy solution, is generating genuine and unnecessary damages.

So now I’m lead to two, frank inquiries.

  1. How many more people we love have to perish from cardiovascular diseases
    Or cancer
    Or stroke
    Or COPD/CLRD (chronic bronchitis and emphysema)
    – aka the 4 out of 5 leading causes of death in the U.S. (the other is unintentional accidents) –
    Before we realize a) something needs to change and b) that it’s primarily linked to physical wellness choices we individually make every day AND to environmental problems surrounding a highly corrupted food system?
  2. What can honestly be done?

If you are in disbelief from my claim within the first question, the answer for tackling the second provides some evidence to conclude it (taken from www.healthaliciousness.com):

To help prevent cardiovascular disease, one should…

  • fight high cholesterol by eating foods naturally lower in it and that naturally lower it
  •  fight high blood pressure by finding a form of activity which increases your heart rate and do 20 minutes daily
  • reduce intake of sodium/salt
  • fight insulin resistance by reducing intake of refined sugars and syrups, including brown sugar and evaporated cane juice
  • fight diabetes by watching sugar in-take as well as adopting a regular exercising schedule
  • sleep 7 to 9 hours nightly
  • find a medium to release negative stress
  • limit the amount of alcohol consumption

To help prevent cancer, one should…

  • fight a poor diet by eating more fiber, fruits and vegetables
  • exercise regularly
  • stop or reduce the habit of smoking
  • know your family history and develop alternate lifestyles
  • apply sunscreen to long period(s) of UV-ray exposure

To help prevent stroke, one should…

  • repeat all the steps for preventing cardiovascular disease
  • consume recommended daily amounts of water

To help prevent COPD/CLRD, one should…

  • avoid inhaling large amounts of dust
  • breathe sanitary air

Furthermore, another answer to the second question may be what I came across at Marama and what they do. It’s a fairly new understanding but certainly an old trick in the book. The applications of organic farming strictly limit or do not permit the use of pesticides, synthetic fertilizers, hormones, livestock antibiotics and genetically modified organisms (GMO’s are a whole other story in themselves) and does not interfere with the natural development of soil, plants, livestock and then of course, human beings too. This and that and so much more that would take me many more pages to jot down.

Marama’s organic certification

Enter the clincher. Nutrition is simply everything. What we put into our mouths has a direct correlation to our overall well being, and diet (and exercise), as we’ve been told since we learned the ABC’s, is a major factor in predicting and warding off most health issues likely to develop in our futures. Thus enter the basics. You and I cannot get good, clean and fair food without good, clean and fair animal health. And we cannot have good, clean and fair animal health without proper care of plants. And plants need nourishing soil, not an approach fostered in the opposite direction.

Organic farming precisely starts there: the dirt. Then builds up. And doesn’t disrupt a cycle intended to enrich the life of everything participating in it.

My open recommendation and organic defense, like Graham and Giselle once hinted to me, is to get extremely nosy about your bodies. I mean Curious George type crazy! I also encourage you to read on it (i.e. books like Eating Animals by Jonathon Safran Foer; Eat Right for Your Type by Peter D’Adamo; Animal, Vegatable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver; The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals by Michael Pollan; Fast Food Nation: The Dark Side of the All-American Meal by Eric Schlosser; The Way We Eat: Why Our Food Choices Matter by Peter Singer; On Food & Cooking: The Science & Lore of the Kitchen by Harold McGee), view it (i.e. films like One Man, One Cow, One Planet; Polyface Farm; The Real Dirt Behind Farmer John; Sicko; Ghost in Your Genes; Cancer, Nutrition & Health; Food, Inc.; King Corn; The Future of Food; Food Stamped; The Garden), and research some organizations and websites in order to determine for yourself. Or, if you’re feeling ultra revolutionary, find an organic farmer near your location and ask about the possibilities of coming to witness first-hand how they do things.

It just might make all the difference – at least it did for me.

 

“Imagine if we had a food system that actually produced wholesome food. Imagine if it produced that food in a way that restored the land. Imagine if we could eat every meal knowing these few simple things: What it is we’re eating. Where it came from. How it found its way to our table. And what it really cost. If that was the reality, then every meal would have the potential to be a perfect meal. We would not need to go hunting for our connection to our food and the web of life that produces it. We would no longer need any reminding that we eat by the grace of nature, not industry, and that what we’re eating is never anything more or less than the body of the world. I don’t want to have to forage every meal. Most people don’t want to learn to garden or hunt. But we can change the way we make and get our food so that it becomes food again—something that feeds our bodies and our souls. Imagine it: Every meal would connect us to the joy of living and the wonder of nature. Every meal would be like saying grace.”
~Michael Pollan, The Omnivore’s Dilemma

The Kiwi Puzzle

Most of you are probably wondering what New Zealanders eat, drink, listen to, watch and how they entertain themselves. What do they embrace to claim as their own? Allow me to put some pieces of their culture together. This is me trying to complete the Kiwi puzzle, as brief as possible.

1. The word kiwi; it could mean anything and everything. It’s a type of fruit, their native bird (nocturnal and flightless), nickname for citizens, the dollar of their stock exchange and simply used as an adjective for anything related to the country (i.e. Kiwi dance, Kiwi fashion, Kiwi territory, etc). Once this is understood, all other pieces can fall into place.

Stuffed kiwi in a window seal of a backpackers in Christchurch

2. Most of the population consists of English (white-Caucasian) and Maori (indigenous people) descendants. Thus the popular languages are also English and Maori, and though both communities have had their fair share of blood and hatred, the nation highly encourages the presence of each history and heritage to recognize and be proud of. I was fortunate enough to visit the War Memorial Museum in the Domain of Auckland two days ago where I first went on a private tour with two others, and our guide by the name of Barry clearly appeared to be a part of a British bloodline. Then, two hours later, I watched 7 Maori performers dance their hearts out to instrumentation and chants in native dialect. It was an incredible healthy experience of understanding the beauty of diversity from a Kiwi perspective.

Oh, I’ve also started a new Kiwi-to-American dictionary. Some terms you may already know.

quad bike = four-wheeler
rubbish = trash
pellock/wanker = censored name for someone you don’t particularly like
heaps = lots of
keen = set on something; sarcastic, goofy
“cheers” = slang for “thanks”; “see you later”
bum = buttocks
fine chap = good fellow
torch = flashlight
bathroom = a bathroom without a toilet
kia ora = famous kiwi greeting meaning welcome, hello and be well/healthy in Maori
mate = friend
chooks = chickens
number plate = license plate
fizz = soft drink
ute = pick-up truck
“choice” = slang for “sweet”; a good decision
egg = idiot or moron; mainly spoken by elementary children
bench = countertop
spa pool = hot tub
“ta” = thank you
biscuit = cookie
“sweet as” = slang for “cool”/“very good”
“pass” = I have no idea
“I can’t be bothered” = “I have no motivation” or “I do not want to”
chips = potato chips AND french fries
gutted = disgusted; disappointed
tea = that stuff you brew AND dinner/supper you make at home
“gidday” = “good day”
tyre = tire
brollie = umbrella

Of course there will be many, many more added to the list later.

3. It’s called rugby. Among its enthusiasts and counterparts alike, this high-energy, contact game has been deemed ‘the hooligan sport played by gentlemen’ – and with good reason. Imagine 30 players on a field dressed in skin tight soccer uniforms, without protection of any kind except for the optional headgear or knee pads, continuously tackling each other until their side got a penalty, a turnover, went out of bounds or scored either by a ‘drop kick’ or ‘try’ – as if they were playing gridiron like the non-stop energizer bunnies! After watching one test, my first thought was it made American football look like a civilized activity between friendly neighborhood kids. Just madness!

And boy, New Zealand has certainly been struck with a fever by it. Their team is the All Blacks, and little did I know when I arrived here, it just so happened to be in the middle of the World Rugby Cup 2011 frenzy – and hosted in New Zealand. The flights with Air New Zealand from then on out included fans of many colors, from various parts of the world and, to satisfy everyone’s humor, the safety videos before take-off ended with a blurred image of a streaking granny running down the aisle among cheering passengers. There were All Black flags, gossip, posters, rants, commercials and messages everywhere you went. Video streaming of the “haka”, a famous Maori war-dance the team performs in front of rival opponents prior to each match, had reached an all-time high (and if you haven’t seen it before, please do yourself a favor and watch this one before the semi-final with their arch rival, the Australian Wallabies: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GIS5iJqLyw). One man had even cut down a tree in his front yard to paint it entirely black with white letters of support. I call that commitment.

I struck more luck since I was able to see the conclusion of the tournament with 12 other people at the farm who came for a community dinner. The All Blacks defeated France 9-8 and earned the Webb-Ellis Cup. I celebrated with them! Newspaper headlines the next day printed only two words: “It’s ours.” Had The Cocks won, rumor has it all of New Zealand would still be in mourning. I actually wouldn’t doubt it…

Captain Richie McCaw shaking hands with Prime Minister John Key

4. Food and beverages. Here’s the goooooooooood stuff. For beer, I’d definitely say Speight’s (the Old Dark is my favorite), Steinlager, Tui (for the lighter drinkers) and DB Export are among the finest. Wines are an even bigger A+. Go with reds from Nelson, Canterbury and Hawke’s Bay and whites from Marlborough, Martinborough and Central Otago. Furthermore, the pub atmospheres are one step down from England’s but still a good notch to get out and enjoy. Teas are popular too. I’ve taken a liking to the taste of chamomile, lemon & ginger and red bush.

As for another, today I had an organic smoothie mix with kiwi, strawberry and gooseberry (all fruits that grow extremely well in NZ, of course), and I’d recommend it to anyone.

And goodness, have I been fed well! I’ll greatly miss having Clevedon Valley buffalo yoghurt (oh my, the lemon zest flavor), Jimmy’s pies, fish & chips, Glasseye Creek wild meat sauce, yams, leeks, pumpkin soup, Lisa’s hummus brand, whitebait, organic muesli, Marama lamb & beef sausages, garlic & herb cream cheese, home rolled sushi, oyster curry and hangi, a traditional Maori feast (you should see how this meal is prepared: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCjpHWpTYGA). Oh, and did I mention that since there are plenty of folk from Asia and the Pacific Islands that New Zealand has some fantastic Thai, Chinese, Japanese and Indian cuisine too? YUM.

Now to the really great part… chocolate… the winners, without any doubt, are Whittaker’s (milk, especially the berry & biscuit and kiwifruit ones), Cadbury (milk and white) and Old Gold (dark – LOVE the variety box that includes caramel, mint and espresso truffles). Trust me, dear readers, no other local brands can match these.

Ran into the makers at the La Cigale French Market in Auckland

5. Here’s some good music I’ve come across. Dave Dobbyn*, Margaret Ulrich*, Brooke Fraser, Tim Finn, The Feelers*, Hollie Smith, Bic Runga*, Avalanche City, Midnight Youth* and 2’s a Crowd.
Here’s some good literature I’ve come across. The Book of Fame by Lloyd Jones* and Whale Rider by Witi Ihimaera.
Here’s some good art work creators. Theo Schoon*, John Pule, Julia Morison*, Ruth Watson, Para Matchitt, Geoff Thornley, Charles F. Goldie, Kennett Watkins, Walter Wright, Frank Wright and John Perrett*
And
here are some good films. Boy*, Whale Rider*, Lord of the Rings trilogy*, In a Land of Plenty, The Last Samurai and Eagle vs. Shark.

6. Sheep. 60 million of them and nearly 5 million Kiwis, which would indicate a 12:1 sheep-to-person ratio. There are herds all over the North and South Islands, and Marama Organics alone currently has around 6,000 or so ewes. Heaps of wool! Heaps of meat!

7. There is a great sustainability push. More goooooooood stuff. Kiwis care about the natural environment and actively push themselves and their elected officials in government to ensure wildlife and landforms are preserved and protected. During a day of tailing with Graham’s neighbor Peter, I was thrown off guard when his partner Michelle yelled out, “Hey, who threw this potato chip bag on the ground?!” No one answered. She continued, “No littering in New Zealand!” Or reading about the reaction of the people when the MV Rena, an oil vessel, grounded on a reef off the coast of Tauranga and caused the worst maritime disaster in their history. They were outraged and ready to make a move.

Near the I-Site in Wanaka

8. Which brings me to my final point. I could not conclude without discussing the people’s character. Imagine an Aussie who’s less hyper and equally charming and full of humor and humility. That’s a Kiwi. I’d also say their accent was a cross between an Aussie and a Brit. They have wide, bold and quick eyes, as if they were lingering on your every word and experts at paying attention to their surroundings. They aren’t quiet or particularly reserved like their British ancestry; they’re not afraid to make the walls dance or let you know they are in the room. But perhaps the most important and celebratory bit about them, as I’ve hinted, is their strong sense of community. When the MV Rena caused its stir, volunteers rushed to the beaches, set up tents and waited for bird and sea life to come ashore for them to be rescued as well as for the oil clean-up. Or when the devastating earthquakes shook Christchurch earlier this year. People were on stand-by to clear the rubble to find anyone who could be stranded. People always seem to be on stand-by for each other.

Kiwis want happiness and joy. They want social equality. They want to feel alive and safe and free. The best kind of folk, if you ask me.

 The kid on the left has my vote.

 

“One man may hit the mark, another blunder; but heed not these distinctions. Only from the alliance of the one, working with and through the other, are great things brought to life.”

~Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Of Gardening & Rainbows

A part from the farm animals, much of where my time is spent is in the garden. Some of the basics this entails are the following: weed eating the property, watering the greenhouse, weeding the existing beds, creating seedlings, planting seedlings and sprouts directing into prepared ground, planting trees, making eggshell fertilizer, netting berry bushes and young trees, painting signs, forming teepees with stakes and string, throwing food scraps into the worm farm and fencing. Oh, here’s what’s currently growing or being eaten!

Tomato
Asparagus
Cucumber
Broad bean
Pak Choi
Snap pea
Pea
Gooseberry
Leek
Chamomile
Parsnip
Silverbeet
Florence fennel
Celery
Strawberry
Rhubarb
Garlic
Rosemary
Cauliflower
Lettuce
Cabbage
Beetroot
Parsley
Dill
Pumpkin
Courgette
Kale
Lemon
Spring onion
Cilantro
Spinach
Broccoli
and many more I’m probably forgetting

Compared to the soil I worked with in Tennessee, this rich stuff is soft and dark and chemical free. It’s easy to manipulate and shape. It hardens well in sunlight and filters rainfall with little to no water logs. I’d be lying if I said I loved doing anything more on the farm than putting my gloves on and using various garden tools, even if I haven’t expressed it as fully to the family. I’ll confess here accordingly. There’s something incredibly melodic about coming in for smoko or lunch and earning dirt stains on your trousers that weren’t there before breakfast. Or replacing your bandana after accidently dropping it in liquid manure. It’s a therapeutic act to use a water can for the greenhouse and to see several days later how the recipients grew a couple of inches.

Which brings me to ask, can you imagine a scenario where there wasn’t a need to go to a supermarket for most of our food needs? Where we simply walked into our backyards (or to community gardens for the city folk) and picked what you needed for dinner or had a local butcher package your meat? That we met and visited the farmer(s) who raised and supplied our produce?

Veggie garden (behind the WWOOFer cottage)

Greenhouse

Latest batch of seedlings

Bed to weed

Harvested rhubarb

I’ve been learning about the important components to a successful organic garden, and the elementary ingredients are 1) timing, 2) geography, 3) health of the soil, 4) the presence of worms and bees, 5) the H2O/sunlight/fertilizer relationship and my absolute LEAST favorite… 6) the annoying mood swings of Mother Nature.

Once upon a time I thought the frequent weather patterns in Nashville were bi-polar, but recent evidence would conclude that was an underestimation. It’s more dramatic in the Pacific. For example, from a hostel room in Te Anau, a town on the border of Fiordland, I witnessed and experienced a 24 hour forecast turn from sunshine (around 65 or so degrees) to snow (around 30 or so degrees) and to rain that caused the lake to fog over so much you couldn’t see the dominating mountains on the other side. Then I’d be at Marama walking maybe a dozen or so meters and in an instant, practically without warning, the unforgiving wind challenged me to stay on my feet. Temperatures staying in a small range can’t be counted on either; just because that bit of dirt is dry now doesn’t mean tomorrow won’t turn it into a mud bath or keep your fingers crossed, from moist earth to a frost the crops have to combat.

A clear, moon-lit night

The next morning at dawn

Mount Luxmore & Lake Te Anau

Same scene some hours later (that’s snow, by the way)

So with outdoor conditions like I’ve described, it’s a constant battle to work with and against them. But, when you fight them, continue to push yourself and finally win on a rare occasion, the reward is remarkable. Mother Nature might send you a rainbow to marvel at – when She’s cheery again.


“Triumphal arch, that fill’st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.”
~Thomas Campbell

Gateway to Aspiration

The end of the second week carried me to Wanaka, New Zealand. The city is known as the Gateway to Mount Aspiring National Park since the tracks leading to the peak the conservation is named after start there. Graham and Giselle wanted to give me room to breathe as well as send me on some health business.

I already imagined the next few days of holiday would be worthwhile simply from the bus ride. If the fact that the driver was Bono’s bald twin didn’t suffice, it was definitely the views from where I sat. The landscapes on the other side of the glass would change nearly every 15 minutes. And dramatically: hills like Marama to begin with, then canyons with cliffs I’ve never seen more rocky, then flatlands with rows of fruit trees and vineyards, then river dams and historic gold mines with caves, and finally… the mountains. My quiet traveling mates and I bid hello and farewell to Rae’s Junction, Roxburgh, Alexandra, Clyde and Cromwell through our pondering glances before we stopped at the I-Site location right off Lake Wanaka’s shores. I remember stepping off, throwing the duffle over my shoulder, walking out onto the dock and standing in awe until the sun went down.

Mount Apiring National Park from Eely Point

The health business mentioned above was an appointment with a naturopath highly recommended by my host family. Her name is Margaret Balogh, and her occupation aligns in the holistic movement. Though I’m still digging into what this is, from what research I’ve conducted, practitioners in this “medical” field generally don’t agree with mainstream physicians and scientists. These could include the acupuncturists, massage therapists, zen masters, yoga instructors, etc. They put nutrition and natural, human wellness at the forefront of their work as well as recognize that each person’s body is different.

Again, prejudice followed me into the waiting room that Friday afternoon. I was socialized by a system to accept the diagnostics of those in white coats. It never occurred to me that medicine usually attacks the symptom(s) but ultimately, not the problem(s) which created the symptom(s); or how prescriptions constantly fight against our immunity. It never occurred to me that genetics has been, time and time again, used as an excuse (i.e. “Oh, well since your mother has a bad fill-in-the-blank, then there’s nothing really you can do if you have it since it was passed down to you” or “He died of a heart attack at 50, but it ran in the family”); could it be that through DNA, our bodies are prone to certain conditions if we follow the diets and lifestyle trends as our parents and especially if we are raised in the same environments as they were? Could it be that if I started focusing my finances towards good groceries now, would I need to worry so much about the necessity of health insurance later on?

Marg came out of her office and invited me inside so our session could proceed. From first looks, she had the wisdom in her gaze of someone middle-aged but seemed, physically, at least 10 years younger. Her voice was gentle and encouraging, and she answered questions firmly and with grace. She performed a vegatest on me, which sent painless electric currents throughout my body to determine a) intolerances, b) deficiencies, c) acid levels and d) how organs were functioning. I held a metal rod and she poked at my big toe. Apparently, I was too acidic. The worst organs were my intestinal lining, liver and thyroid. I lacked zinc, magnesium, chromium and boron. I didn’t respond well to dairy, sugar, wheat and coffee. Her feedback would require me to change what I ate and how I moved, like exercising three to four times a week, adding meat again because my blood type was O positive, consuming six handfuls of veggies and three palms of protein a day, going gluten-free, and taking a dietary supplement, a multi-vitamin, B12, detox clay, high-concentrated fish oil and zinc powder; she supplied the last three.

I should pause here to confess that my results were not what surprised me the most nor did they have the biggest impact. It was actually our discussion beforehand, as she filled out my profile sheet. We got the generic health information out of the way when the more personal inquiry came – things like my sexual history, family background, childhood, what I wanted to be, and if I supposed any problems/fears associated in these areas might have contributed to unwanted weight gain. After a brief and painful story few people in my life know about, this was her response: “Yeah, we tend to do that, don’t we? We use food as a defense mechanism. So we don’t really have to face what hurts us.”

Aspiration is such a funny term; it could mean ambition, goal, objective, aim, target, hope, desire and wish. You need it to get off your butt. You need it before every step. You need it so you don’t throw your arms in the air and wave surrender. You even need it to forgive and to just let the crappy stuff go. When Marg said that, it was exactly what I knew had to be done. No one had previously pointed out the sheer importance of strong mental power in the equation or that success had a particularly higher probability if I entered the race with a clean slate. I had to clear up the baggage in my head before I took on her suggestions. Mind before matter.

Wanaka was my gateway to aspiration and believing that with a combination of carefully-guided support, emotional release and self direction, I could achieve virtually anything. If I was entirely truthful (with no offense intended towards education or religion), four days there and one meeting with Marg taught what four years of college and two decades of spirituality failed to confront or counsel. Wanaka empowered me to make the choice; it presented the evidence, gave me the tools and said I deserved happiness.

Sculpture at Lake Wanaka

Sculpture’s inscription

Let’s fast forward several weeks. If you knocked on the cottage at 8:30 am, you’d discover I was already gone getting things done – and at a much faster rate than before. My hair grew like a weed, and I’d brush my fingers through it to show how soft it was. You’d find my acne about cleared and my skin tan from all of the daily sun I got. We’d be at dinner in the evening and talk about ourselves, and you’d notice my confidence freely displaying itself.

Oh, and as of yesterday, I’ve thus far lost four belt holes around my waist. Something must be right about the weirdos, as Graham would say.

 

 “The chance is yours for the taking, and everything depends/ On this transient moment that could turn strangers into friends/ The possibilities fill the air like a song played from far away/ Full of stories, hopes, dreams/ And laced with insecurity, scars, and pain/ The possibilities float like ghosts/ And theyre haunting my every thought.” ~Foreverinmotion

Living Arrangements

It wasn’t only the countrysides and creatures I grew accustomed to. Coming to Marama asked for me to adapt to a whole new routine and way of life. I had to give a little and get a little.

On eating matters…

Over 90% of the food I’ve consumed since my arrival has been locally or organically grown or both, even the meats (more on this and why I gave up pescetarianism later on).
The water comes from a nearby creek and is pumped back to the farm through a piping system; it’s safe to drink on tap without the aid of a purifier.
My interest of unveiling the magic of tea has quadrupled.
I get my eggs from the chicken house.
I get my dairy products from Missy, which would include milk and learning how to make butter, yogurt and various cheeses from scratch.
Many of the veggies, along with herbs, come straight out of the garden and/or greenhouse.
On any given day, I cook my breakfast and dinner. “Smoko” (a term for morning tea known by Kiwi farmers) and lunches are shared together with Graham and Giselle.
We daily bake our own bread usually combining ingredients exempt of gluten. Sometimes we add a variety of nuts or dried fruits into the mixtures too.
Food scraps can go to one of the following areas: compost bucket, worm food bucket or fed to the chickens.

On lodging matters…

I live in a three bedroom cottage that can hold up to 6-8 occupants.
It is as tidy as the residents keep it.
It doesn’t have central heat or air. If I’m cold, I must make a fire by putting paper down, then pinecones, then dry kindling after the cones are ignited – in that exact order.
If I’m hot, I open a door/window.
Space is not an issue. I have everything one would ever need. Lots of book shelves.
No locks on the doors. Turns out the world is not out to get me after all.
There’s a compost toilet separate from the house; it does not have plumbing.
To be mindful of water, I give myself no more than 15 minutes for a shower. I’m hoping to get it down to 10.
Trash is burned daily in a drum bin.
We recycle or re-use as much as possible – glass, plastic containers, metal cans. Cardboard goes to the worms.

 WWOOFer House

Kitchen area

Living & dining area

My bedroom

My bedroom continued

Washroom

Entry to outhouse

Compost toilet (I’d be lost without those feet prints...)

Creative toiletry rules

First successful fire, after 100 or so repeated failures 

All the change has been equally challenging and rewarding. I had to come to terms that nature and I couldn’t be separated. I had to trust that others would not invade my privacy. Until I went on top of the roof and wrapped chicken wire around the chimney, I even had to rescue trapped birds in the furnace; the first one chased me throughout the whole house! But with the new cycle in motion, I also began to catch on to the fact that trifles are celebrated here. Things I would’ve normally ignored were now brought in full, uncensored swings to my conscious.

Like the budding of a flower or the flight of a colorful bird; neither goes unnoticed. Or how sensational supper tastes at the making of your own hands, even when you did not get the recipe entirely right. The softness of soil. Riding the quadbike and the wind brushing your hair. Rain right after you’ve put seeds in the ground. Bentley’s obnoxious morning calls when you forgot to set your alarm. Work gloves hanging out of your back pocket. Standing on top of a pumpkin patch and knowing you are the king of the hill. Turning your cell phone off. Constant chuckles during newspaper quizzes, a Marama tradition after lunch, always facilitated by Graham’s hilarious remarks. Silence when everyone in the same room is reading something different. Giselle’s winks when she catches your eye. Just when you begin to think you aren’t doing good enough, a compliment comes or a message from someone you miss. Playing an original song on an acoustic guitar outdoors and looking up to find you’ve gained an audience of cows and sheep lined up at the fence. Hatch’s obsession for you to pet her. Clyde’s cleverness to escape any catastrophic situation. Dave’s and Tina’s (the farm managers) short fuses and profanity as plans go wrong. Cozy, comfortable light one lonely lamp can produce.

This and that and so much more. Amazing to see what happens once I widened my eyes and paid attention.

 

“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.”  ~Leonardo da Vinci