The Day after my 59th Birthday

It was very sunny and warmed a little today. This is in steep contrast to the two previous days which were marked by blustery winds, 3 inches of snow and below freezing temperatures at night. As I went to bed last night we noticed that there were large strips of condensation on the ceiling and patches of moisture in some of the side wall cupboards. My supposition is that the outside skin of Avalanche is thin or there are seams in these places, creating an extra cold line or patch, thus encouraging moisture to condense just in these areas. These trailers are not really designed for winter use - all the more reason to get south as soon as possible. And, yes, as soon as feasible, Gabor or some other willing person will get on top of Avalanche and see if some extra sealant is required.

Speaking of willing helpers, there has been a gradual and significant “warming” to us and our needs on the part of Camphillers at Nottawasaga. At first we were treated very differently in the two communities, yet it seemed difficult in both to ask for much in either place.

People at Sophia Creek have always been very generous in many ways, and at the same time their capacity to offer direct personal support remains limited. This is not a complaint. People are enormously generous and at the same time everyone in both communities is networked into a complex set of tasks and relationships that ensure everyone can live interesting and valuable social and work lives. They are very busy indeed.

Camphill Nottawasaga is both a farming establishment and heavily overlaid with a structure for “serving” the “handicapped” which is typical of agencies receiving government funding. Unlike Sophia Creek people have more rigid job descriptions and reporting structures. It is worthy of exploration as to how the one group can be so much more flexible than the other!

Anyway, when we arrived in August many people in Camphill Nottawasaga just didn’t know where and how to fit us in. We were welcomed and along with this welcome came a request that is typical of institutionalized settings for me to affirm that Gabor had been police checked and CPR trained, and to give a date by which I would be leaving. It has been a continuous source of amusement and leverage for me to be both a “companion” and a “volunteer” – in Camphill parlance - making it impossible for forks to “peg” either Gabor or I and giving people a chance to truly meet us.

Within the last ten days or so people have been warming to us on a personal level. Basically this means it is much easier both to ask for and to give support. The warming process started with Leah and Christos, who in August were the first to visit the trailer, asking respectively to come to dinner and to share coffee. Now we have been invited to dinner and lunch several times in the houses, consulted on local issues, invited to evening ping pong and given considerable help in shopping and renovation, even some personal assistance. All this is wonderful for me, and for Gabor. I am certain it is also wonderful for community members, as we all find our way around the more rigid structures.

Yesterday’s birthday party was magical. Weather had been awful and many people sick in Camphill Sophia Creek. Ken had come up around noon, bringing Erin who could only stay less than a day. No other Toronto friends could come. It seemed like it would be a small party.

In the midst of shifting things around to make more room in Avalanche, to stabilize the bed and to create a small working office, Erin and I made rice pudding for the potluck and Gabor set up his sound system and mixer. When we returned to Novalis for dinner it had been transformed into a Halloween setting with candles and pumpkins. The dinner was sumptuous and many “companions” came dressed as bunnies, princesses, devils and ghosts. Speeches and presents flowed and I was warmly gifted and honoured.

Though many went on to another party that had been scheduled by their usual bowling league, a few stayed and as Gabor cranked up the mixer the dancing began. “Companions” dance in their own way, to an inner rhythm, as do I within the possibilities of a powerful wheelchair and a smooth floor in a large room with exceptional acoustics. The scene took on the presence that I have been longing for since my early years. Here I could dance in my own way, and be both the “normal” and “crippled” me, perfectly myself. Here I am home where the strange and usual are all appreciated.

Towards 8 pm there were only 3 of us left, and Ken, who had missed the potluck, showed up with his dog Max. Erin napped, Gabor mixed and Ken, Max and I danced.

Later I returned to Avalanche to find that Ken had transformed even the “smaller” details of my space. Together we hung decorations, hid wires and cleaned things up until, in the morning, when I awoke at 6:30 to Ken getting up to return to Toronto, my little trailer felt like my true, luxurious, travelling home.

As I lay awake for awhile longer I became aware of a strong sense of grief. Having been immersed now for several weeks in the intimate soup made of living closely with 26 “companions”, and the stress, disruptions and rearrangements coming from the three of us – Gabor, Erin and I – establishing our own relationships and leaving our homes, I looked to see if this sense of grief was truly my own or a reflection from others. It is mine.

I am not unhappy. I am present to the disconnection I have brought onto myself in order to follow a vision. I have given up the city that I thought would be my address for all my adult life. I have left the reliable connection of a home phone and stable internet. I have left my familiar assistants, and the back-up list of those I can count on, and the third layer of those I would reach out to when things got weird. I have left my aged father, in so many ways my friend, mentor and support, for at least six months and possibly forever. I have left the empowering discipline of regular assisting with the Landmark Wisdom City Team. And I have left so many friends who have wished me well in following my dream, and who, like Ken, in the last moment have shown in so many little and big ways that they want me in their lives.

This is a strange and lovely grief. It makes me feel very real and solid. It lets me know that I have a task ahead of me that I want to carry out well, so that the whole sacrifice - my own and so many others - will be worth the cost.

Judith