Peace, love and moving by two wheels on the Left Coast

Another few weeks on the beautiful Left Coast, including cycling, hippies, protests and finger-sucking.

At the May Day Protest.  Down with the 1% Man!

On May Day, I went to a protest downtown where laborours, immigrants, anti-poverty activists and the Occupy movement joined together to recognize the massive change needed to protect workers' rights.  Later that day, I visited the Berkeley campus, heart of some of the more radical and noted thinkers of our time, including my personal favourite George Lakoff.  It's amazing to be immersed in this culture of innovation around change - the hopelessness I've felt in other activist events and movements doesn't so much exist here.  From Occupiers to academics, people are trying to change the work for the better.

I saw another version of this when I visited La Tierra, a commune in Sebastopol, north of San Francisco.  A friend had grown up there and she invited me to their May festival, where we (no one will be surprised by this): pot-lucked, played music, danced wildly and wove colourful ribbons around the Maypole. I also got to learn about the history of the commune, how people who lived there have developed "chosen" family members that, while not related to them by blood, are extremely important to them, and how people learned to communicate with each other and problem-solve. It's really quite brilliant - the relationships these people have with each other are WAY healthier than almost any others I've heard of.

At an "energizer station" with my new bike to work day bag in the Presidio, SF

I also celebrated Bike to Work Day with the awesome folks at the SF Bike Coalition.  Now, Bike to Work day is always fun, but in San Francisco, it's a massive celebration.  I'm talking 27 stations with refreshments and high fives, hundreds of volunteers, 10 of the eleven city councillors cycling to work, including the mayor (hear that, Ottawa?), prizes and an awesome bike-party.  I biked to work in heels and a skirt, got fed the entire day, won a sweet golden gate bridge cycling jersey (which now means I'll have to buy matching spandex pants, take 6-hour rides around the bay "just for fun" and nearly run tourists of the GG Bridge), and danced by bum off with three fabulous women I met at the Bike Party.

My friend Alana and I with our fabulous new hairstyles

Oh, and the finger-sucking?  That was at a cinco de mayo party at one of my fav places in San Francisco, El Rio, where I had my hair done for free in a 50s-style beehive, got Navajo fry bread from my buddy Rocky, watched charming burlesque, and met a fabulous gay Israeli man who extremely sensually (and very publicly) liked honey off my fingers.  One thing I'll say for SF - there is nowhere like it.

A Jew goes wandering in the desert...

....oh, you've heard this one before?  Well, this one is a little different.  A few weeks ago, I went to the Panamint Valley near Death Valley with Wilderness Torah for Passover in the Desert.  This was a five-day experience in a stark desert, surrounded by multicoloured mountains and sparsely decorated with scrub bush, pebbles and salt flats.  No shade, no cell service, no electricity, no noise, no skyscrapers, a quiet only defined by the tones of the wind and the occasional sound of a jet engine from a local military base.

I got involved with Wilderness Torah when I went to an event of theirs and was delighted to find a group of Jews who were motivated by their spiritual connection to the environment, social justice, and yes, patchouli.  Thinking I'd come into the office a few times a month and organize files, I was instead drawn into the Lev, or organizing committee, of the Passover in the Desert festival.  Through this, I got to help organize and carry out one of the most beautiful, emotional, quiet, and deep experiences I've had.

So what happens when a group of Jews go wandering in the desert?  Here's a summary:

• fierce, unrelenting winds and dust uninhibited by tall buildings and powerful warm rainstorms and snow which was evaporated by a hot desert sun the next day
• teams of just as unrelenting volunteers creating colourful, blanket-adorned shelters that welcome attendees into an otherwise naked landscape
• a loving kitchen team that filled our bellies with passover-kosher home-made pickles, massaged kale salads, vegan matzoh ball soups, stewed dried figs, matzoh brei, sweet and hearty quinoa, healing teas, matzah tiramisu, fresh and nourishing fruits and almond butters which kept us hydrated, joyful and able to immerse ourselves in the wonder of the desert
• a slow weaning away from time, schedules, emails, phones, where we were instead defined by drums and fire dancers, prayer and laughter, sharing feelings and emotion, more sharing, and more sharing (we are hippies after all), where we were called to meals by the blowing of the shofar (ram's horn) and greeted by guitar and dancing
• learning about passover, counting the olmert (don't ask me to explain it), LGBTQ issues in Judaism, the BDS movement of Jews in the US, and how to make Passover really, really tasty
• Hearing about Rock, the one resident in the Panamint Valley ghosttown of Balarat who sells beer for a dollar out of a cooler in his house and likely burned down a mining camp about 20 years ago for reasons unknown
• snakes, scorpions, birds, ants and packs of wild, wandering burros (don't mess with them)
• hugs, dancing, cuddle piles, singing, freestyle beatboxing (by yours truly), incredible new friends and connections and a team of inspirational leaders to work with in putting on this amazing festival.
• a stillness nearly impossible in the rush of the city and the race of our lives

I also, for the first time, experienced meditation of a sort.  The kind of meditation in which you think "okay, slow your breath, clear your mind.  Clearrrrr....yourrrr....miiiiind.  Hey, what's that bird doing?  He's so cute.  No wait, stop it!  Clear....your...ah, my leg itches.  I should have put on more sunscreen.  I wonder if those dates will be put out for dinner.  I liked the dates. With almond butter and...oh crap!  I have to clearrr....my....stupid overactive mind...I've got an hour more of this.  Oh screw it.  I'm taking a nap."  Although I felt I had failed at my meditation, a kind new friend explained to me that 90% of meditation is simply getting yourself to the cushion.  And so I've taken to doing an occasional 5 minute meditation which slows me down just enough to have a lasting effect throughout the day.


And so I returned from the timeless inspiration of the desert, changed not monumentally, but in small ways.  Am I more religious? Not so much.  But I do feel so very hopeful and inspired that there are Jews like me who believe strongly in our cultural tradition's connection to the land.  Thank you Panamint and thank you to the incredible families, elders, youth, teachers, students and organizers for what is one of my most memorable experiences.

Upon a rainy return...

Ah, so THIS is what a San Francisco winter is supposed to be. It's been raining/misting/spitting/generally being in a moist sort of way for the past three days. But it's a good thing - the ground is thirsty for it. It's actually the most rain I've seen in San Francisco since I arrived in October. I'd actually begun to believe this whole rain thing was a myth, especially when biking around in february in a t-shirt.

But as the rain comes, I am going back to Canada for a visit. I'm terrifically excited to see my friends and family. I got spoilt in Ottawa and Toronto - I've such deep, inspiring, emotional friendships that I got used to connecting easily. Here, I've really had to show the best of myself - I have to wait until I've hung out with someone at least three times before I get drunk and throw up on their shoes, lest I ruin an early friendship.

But I've still managed to connect to some of the amazing people here, including the awesome folks at swing dancing in Golden Gate Park, my former roommate Liah who quit her job as a computer programmer to make whimsical masks and earrings full time, and my friend Eric, who leads an incredible NGO called EMERGENCY USA, which helps build high-quality medical facilities in war-torn regions.

In fact, one of my new friends went with me to Lake Tahoe for skiiing. If you aren't familiar with Lake Tahoe, it's THE outdoor playground for pretty much everyone in San Francisco and area. And there's a good reason - it's astoundingly beautiful. Big ole snow-capped mountains that surround a rough blue lake, with a whole pile of ski resorts nearby. In the summer, people come to swim, sunbath (probably) hunt and (probably) get liquored up. Plus, lots of the small towns nearby easily and happily have started their own um, agricultural economies of a certain green plant. And if you get bored of all that, there's always the terrifically depressing gambling town of Reno to visit - what's not to like??

But back to the skiing. I hadn't been downhill skiing in about 12 years and imagined I'd look something like this. And, true to my prediction, I fell at least twice while getting off the ski lift before I was gently encouraged to lean forward when pushing off the seat. I did surprisingly well, having only one wipeout and even managed to go faster than some of the 5-year olds learning on the beginner hill beside me. I laughed heartily at them and then felt pretty good about myself.

I also did a gorgeous hike on Mount Tamalpais, about 45 minutes north of San Francisco. And this is the beauty of the coast - you can ski in one place, travel half a day south, and lie on the beach somewhere else.

I'll miss California while I'm gone, but I'm looking forward to giving hugs so big and fierce my arms threaten to fall off. Sayonara San Francisco - save me a piece of sourdough for when I get back.

Just a regular week in California....

This was my week:

I high-fived Jeff Bridges (aka "The Dude" from the Big Lebowski) and enjoyed an amazing cheese plate on Saturday night. I'm not sure what was better.

I stood within one foot (I use "feet" now that I'm in America, y'all) of the bike used in the movie "ET," saw the mechanical T-rex used in Jurassic Park (much smaller and cuter in real life than on the screen), and meditated at the sun-dappled Yoda fountain

I partied with drag queens, goths, bunnies and other creative types at a Burning Man pre-party.

And I started and finished the weekend in Golden Gate Park, whose ground was not covered in snow, but in new, tiny daisies.

Okay, this isn't really a regular week here, but it did give me great appreciation for what I'm able to experience here. Also, I really, really, really like being able to jog in a t-shirt and bike every single day without ski goggles, gloves, snow pants, coat, scarf, hat, ear muffs, boots, extra socks, balaclava....

But one of the best parts of the week? A friend from home is visiting today - hooray! And, call me crazy, but I'm going to Lake Tahoe on the weekend and I'm really excited to see my first snow of the winter! Hopefully my California sun-warmed skin will be able to handle it. I've grown to be SUCH a delicate flower.

The Great (Kosher) Outdoors

The past few weeks, my attention has been focused on the birds and the bees....and the water and the trees and the rocks and the desert and the forest. Yes, I've not forgotten that I'm an "environmentalist," out to "save the world" with the glow of organic produce in my cheeks and fashionable fair-trade hemp underwear covering my caboose.

These past few weeks I've been in touch with the natural world in a variety of ways. Last week, I enjoyed the company of some of the wonderful individuals at San Francisco Baykeeper, while we went out on the ocean checking for pollution, Danger Bay style. These guys do lots of excellent work in a watershed serving 10 million people and a whackload more aquatic, bird, plant and mammal life. And the sue the crap out of polluters - the american justice system at its finest.

It's funny - when you live the heart of the city, you almost forget that you are surrounded by water. And so yesterday, I took an easy bike ride through Golden Gate Park and ended up at Ocean Beach. Now I've not been at the ocean some time, and after struggling with my bike up a sandy embankment, I was faced with a breathtaking scene of white waves cresting long along a limitless, sandy shore. Shoes kicked off, I meandered down, lay my bike in the sand, and soaked my toes in the crisp surf of the ocean, letting myself wander back and forth according to the tide. Although I know this sounds like hippy-dippy silliness, you do get a sort of a primal pull to the water and to the earth when you step on the sand and into the ocean. It will knock you over if you aren't careful and will entice you deeper, only to surprise you with generous waves, one on top of the other, that confidently soak your pants (not that this happened to me. No, I was much too careful to come giggle and sopping wet out of the ocean).

I know I am one of many who recognizes the connection you get when facing the magnificence of nature. This week, I was introduced to an incredible organization based in Berkeley called Wilderness Torah. A little background: I'm one of those Jews who say I'm culturally Jewish (ie I'm kind of "meh" on the whole god thing but I love me a pile of steaming, golden crispy latkes and regularly kvetch about everything I can. Oy, the skirts girls wear these days!). Although I've been involved in Jewish organizations, and I do love that musty, old-person smell of the synagogue, I've never felt very connected to the spirituality of my religion. Wilderness Torah is working to connect Jews with the very present - but seemingly forgotten - connection to the natural world our religion has. It does this through educational programs with children and youth as well as providing pretty neat-o ways of celebrating holidays in places like the Red Wood forest or the Joshua Tree desert. I love this. I've always felt that the environmental aspect of Judaism has been largely ignored but is ever-present in the scriptures and I'm so pleased that this organization exists. I hope to volunteer with them, learn more, and who knows - maybe I'll find myself a nice vegan-socialist-fair-trade Jewish lawyer to marry.

Gaining and losing a home

Last week I celebrated American Thanksgiving (look closely - this turkey already has cooking utensils with it. How convenient!). This is a holiday that celebrates appreciation and thanks, and the historical trade in which indigenous people in what is now the U.S. showed settlers how to fish and hunt and in return were given the gift of whisky and syphilis.

But for most Americans, this holiday is about family (be it good friends, neighbours, family members) and home. I was fortunate enough to spend my thanksgiving with extended family near Sacramento.

I was worried a little bit because my expectation of this holiday was that I was going to eat until I could no longer move, and then pass out, pants undone and drooling in front of some American football (if the food didn't make me pass out, the football would). But then I was told that the people hosting tended to be "healthy" people, and I feared we would be given sprouted mung beans and a slice of apple for dessert. Not that these things aren't good, but really, I'm living in the fattest nation in the world, and I feel I should do my part to pack on as much poundage as possible while I'm here.

I needn't have worried. The overloaded table groaned with appetizers, rich bowls of potatoes, yams, gravy, beans, warm baskets of bread, a huge, tender turkey, cheesecake, fruit, pie, and fruit custard cake. It also happened that the host grew his own grapes and was an amateur wine maker. So, only to be polite, I threw back several glasses of very good wine. I recognized then and there that Thanksgiving could become one of my favorite holidays.

However, thanksgiving is also the day before the most horrific day in the United States - Black Friday, a massive consumer holiday where people push, shove, and pepper-spray each other to get the "best deals" so they can carp to their neighbours on how much money they saved. The irony of this being that in fact, they did not save money - they spent it. If you save $100 off a $400 his and hers matching chamber pots, you've still spent $300. On matching chamber pots.

This year especially, this massive consumeristic holiday is particularly disturbing. As a Canadian, I read about people losing their homes and their savings but it was never that tangible and being in San Francisco, I hadn't really thought too much about it. But over the few days I stayed with my relatives, they listed off five or six families who have had to move into apartments or friends' and families' homes because they lost their own in the recession. And the saddest part of this is that this group included a young family, a grandmother, and a couple in which one worked as a successful architect, and some of these folks had been in their homes for decades. It doesn't seem to matter who you are - one wrong turn and, because of a recession caused largely by corporate greed and irresponsible government, anyone could have ended up without a home, not just those who made poor financial decisions around new mortgages.

In an age in which people are not only losing their homes, but it is happening enough that almost everyone knows of several people who are desperately looking for a place to live, I find Black Friday not only troubling in of itself, but an affront to all the people who are now suffering through bankruptcy, homelessness, and shame.

But hey, at least we all have the God-given freedom to purchase as many Star Trek Pizza Cutters as we can get for 75% off at Wal Mart.

Tonight I had dinner with a Nobel Peace Prize laureate.

And she ate all the fried artichokes we ordered.

Last week, I chatted over tea with John Perkins, author of, among others, the best-selling Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. A few weeks ago, I shared a car ride with Vicki Robbin who, way ahead of her time, wrote Your Money or Your Life which questioned the assumption that one can actually choose a simpler life of almost complete happiness by rejecting the idea of insatiable wealth (what, you mean happiness doesn't come from having so much money that you can shower in Patron tequila every day, Festoon your pet ferret with diamonds and eat only endangered Siberian tigers because you can?).

In exchange for all of these experts sharing their well-conceived ideas andgroundbreaking concepts with me, I have, in return, and in their presence, babbled, rambled, got a bit drunk, possibly drooled, and giggled like a 13 year old girl in the presence of Justin Bieber. I think it was a fair exchange.

Holy eff - how did I end up here? In the past month, I've experienced several brain melts from incredible information and conversations with people eons more magnificently brilliant than me. My mind has blown more times than a mountaintop mine in West Virginia. I'd like to think that all the intelligence has in some form rubbed off on me, and I think it has. I feel thoughts are gelling in my head and ideas of what I want to do in the future are coming together (though it could be the pot. I've not even smoked it once you arrive in San Francisco, you become a pothead by default. Walking along the street you are automatically high. Even dogs get stoned when they go on a walk).

I've come to the conclusion that San Francisco is a magical place, more magical than unicorns and marshmallow trees and rainbow-laden three-tailed puppy dogs. Ergo, I expect all of you to come visit me and bask in the waves of progressive thought. Or at least eat Chinese food and smoke pot until you can no longer walk.