Shane's Report #1

Day 16 - On the Road in the Rain

Currently I'm in a van with the crew. We have a PA/driver, Cheech, who's about to fearlessly lead us through the Coastal Mountains to the interior where we do some more filming. We've called our driver Cheech because he told us a seminal story in his life. He came here from Toronto a few years ago and had a crisis. He was getting fat and he was concerned. He was used to going to the gym, but that just made him bulky. He just discovered yoga and he liked it. Should he do the new thing he didn't know much about or go down this new road in his physical fitness? So, he told us, when struck with this quandary he smoked a big bong and cleared his mind and came to grips with everything, and now he's all good. See, BC, what a place, when struck with a quandary, smoke a bong. It's all good. And now Cheech is behind the wheel driving us through the storm - but thank god he has his trusty harmonica with him that he plays a few notes on randomly for "mood".

This morning I took a shower in Vancouver, and if you're not following the news it's a curious time. It's been raining here forever and the reservoir over flowed and put mud and stuff into the tap water. So, there's no drinking from the tap or going to coffee shops - no water except bottled. So far it's been fine, just stick close to a washroom. I will say the Vancouver-ites are handling it well, it's all good, it's all fine. What I find interesting about the BC-laid back "naturalness" is that it's all laid back, all smoothed over with pot and fresh air and fitness and 100% natural foods and non-stop yoga classes. It's all good. It's like, if they stopped for 5 minutes in their non-stop "it's all good routine" they'd fucking loose it, what is just behind the surface would emerge. So, off to another class, "it's all good", when 30 days of rain non-stop is not "all-good", it's driving you fucking nuts, but big smiles you're all blissed out on yoga. See in the East, we don't fool ourselves. We go to yoga, but we're still angry at things, things still simmer at the surface. We're okay with that, and THAT seems more natural to me.

Since I'm hashing out the regional "I'm in Toronto, I'm better than you" vibe, let me move onto Edmonton. But before I do, if you're from Toronto you must have heard this before, "Oh, you're from Toronto, I hate Toronto." And we take it, say something like, "Yeah, its a tough city. But man, Port Alberni BC is real nice though, you're lucky." Why don't we say back, "You hate Toronto, I fucking love it. You know what I hate, these sleepy little butt-fuck small towns simmering with racism, and seething with boredom, isolation, unemployment, alcholism, small gene pools, and depression. But hey, good luck ever getting out of here!" It's not that I actually don't like the small town, I always dream of moving out "there" and living off the land and being at one, for sure, but I doubt when that time comes I'll tell people, "oh you live in this place, have a home, have a life, have friends and family there, well, yeah, I hate that place."

I hate Edmonton ... I don't, but I do find some things interesting about it. We were staying downtown and I realized Edmonton is the only downtown Centerville that still feels like the suburbs. That takes a lot of work to pull off. Box malls and broad thorough fare roads. Also, you know that band Nickleback? You know how they have the rock'n'roll meets heavy metal meets country bleached tipped hair thing going on? Um, well, that's the fashion of the city. Now I know why they sell a million records. I was lost there for a bit. I guess I just feel like if you work with horses and you're out there working on your farm and doing things with cow shit that you should wear a cowboy hat and boots and the whole deal. But if you live downtown and drive a 100 million pound pick up truck, wearing the garb is more like a Halloween costume (though I dig the frosted tips). [Please note: this is coming from a guy that while in Texas wore a cowboy hat, popularly worn by migrant labourers - I'm not one to judge, I'm just throwing stones here.]

The absolute best part of this trip has been meeting the people we have met. I can't tell you who we've met or why we met them or who we're working for as we meet them or if that Aboriginal company even exists. (I signed a non-disclosure clause when I took the job.) But I can say this: there are amazing people everywhere. When you get passed the dumb my weather is better than your weather and my geography is better than you're geography, you can be left with some amazing people. We have met some Elders and I love sitting and talking to Elders. They've been through it. They've been where we are, where we're going, where we been, and they're way over on the other side of things, in the twilight. And they inspire. They just tell it like it is now. Vanity is gone. Shame is gone. Judgment is gone. Nervous "not knowing so meddling with everything" is gone. They just sit, let it out, it is what it is. And when you combine that general sense of a life lived with people who have lived a true and amazing life, one where they really set out to understand and work with communities and make things better for people other than themselves, it is absolutely inspiring.

So far, this has been my favorite little nugget. "Native people know how to pray. Not in some pious religious way, I mean, they know how to just talk to spirit, unashamed, freely." I hear that so clearly because I find it hard myself to pray, in English, in words, in thought. What practice is there that can transcend that? For me it has always been music. But to be able to sink into that place in other ways, more "free" ways would be profound. I always think, that is ultimately what I'm going to need to find - the openness and practice to pray to the life of it all.

Anyway, I think I'm going to throw up. Not sure if it was the brown water I drank this morning in Vancouver, or the nausea from Cheech's lane swerving. Or is it his harmonica playing. I'm not sure anymore. It's only day 13 of 40. Pray for me.