With no credentials or income, not much to prove that declaration, except for the fact that saying those words brings tears to my eyes every time. It feels so scary and brave.
And so yesterday, as I was doing my morning fauxga on the hill by the Buddha of Unconditional Happiness, my phone rang. I was doing a naked downdog in the precious September sun – as KennyLa had gone off on a foray to Campbell River, and I had Dorje Ling all to my sweet self. Naked bliss notwithstanding, I was in the throes of a periodic (well ok, ongoing) existential crisis…wondering,Â in spite of myself – what next, what next. Oh Universe, take me now.
And then, my phone rang – my cel phone, which is weird enough, as I have come to regard that silly device as a handy meditation timer and clunky clock. No one ever calls me on my cel. And I answered the call. And it was Obi Nine, my favourite cyberninja! Inviting me on a mission to the Chilcotin watershed, to visit the site of a proposed copper mine which would contaminate a sacred lake with its toxic tailings. The First Nations bands of the area as well as the Assembly of First Nations have vowed to fight it, and it is coming down to the crunch.
This little expedition, to include a bunch of standout superheroes – Joe Foy (Wilderness Committee enviro star) and Mark Vonesch (Reel Youth guy from Cortes), and Mark Donovan (photog and mensch), and various First Nations activist leaders and regional Chiefs. And Obi Nine, of course. And…and…me. Me, as writer.
“I’m not really sure why you want me to come,” I said, “But it sounds like fun…” “What better reason than fun?” he asked, and I could hear the soft crinkle at the corners of his eyes.
And so I will bus to Vancouver tomorrow, and then fly to the north, to do I know not what. Armed only with my words, I offer myself in service to whatever the Universe requires.