camp & camping

We are back home from a long weekend at the Inaugural South Island Life Learners Camp, the seed of which was gingerly planted back at the Open Space hui last July.
Whaa! We made it happen and it was good.

It was a weekend full of evening skipping, early morning yoga, giggley slide sessions, rhythmic candle dipping, papercraft marathons and unexpected magic at the Blackboard concert;  happy children and many happy parents relaxing into the encouragement and support of others.

The weekend was a co-creation of all who came to camp which means no-one had to shoulder the responsibility of the "success" of the event. Instead as the seed sowers, we might set the intention, set up a space and time and do a little prep. After that all that is left is "holding" the energy. Now I know that "holding the energy" might sound a little on the edge of Fairyland for some of you, but really it's  just gentle facilitation; checking-in with others on how things are, supporting people to step up (or step back), gently moving things forward and generally helping cultivate a culture of love, tolerance and curiosity.
Co-creation reminds us that nothing is really about "me" but that it's all about "us" and really, what better news is there?

With no rush to be home, the girls and I anchored the trip at either end with an overnight stay at a riverside DOC camping ground, collectively breathing in the natural rhythm of outside living, the gentle quiet of the stream and the golden hills of late Summer.

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More and more this Summer I have left the camera behind, leaving this space with fewer photos.  Although a camera can be a tool which brings people closer to their environment and the moment in which they find themselves, recently I have found it more and more a distraction for me and the girls . I became uneasy with the growing tension between being present with what is, and my desire to reach for the camera and try to capture (hold) the moment. And so more and more I have just chosen to leave it behind. I know, not great for a blog but a reflection of some of the things we are working with over here in real time;) 

digging into the life right at my feet.

I finally find myself back in front of the screen.

The rest of the family, as well as a couple of taggers-on (is that even a word :), have just leapt into the car heading to the wharf 5 minutes down the road, boogie boards in the back.  

I have missed writing here but truly life has been just been full with Summertime goodness this last 6 weeks.

Summer has turned out to be just the good medicine that we were all seeking.

After the desolation of my mother's death, then the flurry that is December with gift-making and Christmas with my step-father, we pushed against our habit of seeking new lands and instead wanted to sink into our own backyard and the beaches just beyond. I wanted to dig in to my own life, wake up to the wonder of each day and experience what "the lazy days of Summer" might feel like if I could just let each day unfold in front of me. 

Waking up to my own life is what I am on about this Summer and for inspiration listen to this podcast with Jon Kabat-Zinn. This is a radio show that I regularly tune in to, often while cooking; it stretches my thinking in new ways and inspires insight. Thanks Renee at FIMBY where I originally found the link.

And so for six weeks now, we have stayed put and have welcomed a steady stream of friends and family into our home.  With such superb weather and mostly outside living, our little bach has managed to hold all this fullness with grace. Tenting on the lawn, swingball down the driveway, grooming and exercising the horses, carving in the carport, trapezing and trampolining and a whole lot of fellowship.
Fellowship (an old word that I am newly playing with) is something I seek where ever I go. It's fundamental to how we want to live as a family and how we want to grow our children;  to grow in community, rich in loving friendship and possibility.
And here it was, right at our doorstep, all Summer long.
The cornerstone of each day though has been our trips to the water; mostly to the wharf, sometimes to a  beach. Sometimes a 5 minute dip and other times most of the day, with rock pools, kayaking, high jumping and general sand and water fun.
These daily swims is what I think I will remember most about this Summer.

So here I am back on the blog, somewhere that I do want to be, encouraging families to design the life they dream of living and figuring out how to do it, supporting them to slow down and honor their time with their children and shining some light on growing self-directed learners so that others may grow in confident and claim learning back into the heart of their family and our communities.
This is my passion and the work I attempt to live and I do love to share it, in fellowship.

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a day on the water

 * Thank goodness for friends who go to school and who don't mind taking a day off now and again to live a little ;)

* Thank goodness said friends have raft + gear + a papa who has raft guided more recently than 23 years ago. That is how long it has been for me : \ .

* Thank goodness for a warm, still, overcast day. Perfect rafting weather.

* Thank goodness I squeezed into my wetsuit, there certainly was quite a bit of doubt.

* Thank goodness for our family decision to say "yes" to interesting offers and/or new experiences no matter what else was planned or how long the "to do" list.

In my early adult years I spent a lot of time on the water, mostly in a kayak, sometimes in rafts.
These were very happy years, full of nature and friends and adventure on many levels.
I loved being back on the water today.
The splash of cool, freshwater on my face, the pull of the current, the slap of the waves.
The squeals and smiles on the girls faces were the bonuses.

We have arrived home and the girls have crashed.

I am about to join them.

helpers along the way

What a difference community can make.

For the past ten weeks I have deep in grief for my mum. 

Each day I have walked with her right next to me (figuritively speaking). 

Each day I have shed tears, full of deep sadness for her suffering, regret for decisions I have made and  feeling lost and cynical.

I have been making my way through the gulf of loss and doing exactly what I needed to be doing. 

At times I have had to remind myself that "doing something" with such uncomfortable feelings means not doing much but being present with them. 

"Doing something" means walking my days in deep acceptance of this moment in time.

This has been one of those times that doing nothing was exactly what would eventually move me forward in wellness.

My mum has died. I want to honour this time in my life.

Over the years a favourite poem of mine has been "SM" by Alice Walker, especially these two stanzas:

"I tell you, Chickadee

I am afraid of people

who cannot cry

Tears left unshed

 turn to poison

in the ducts 

Ask the next soldier you see

enjoying a massacre

if this is not so.

.....................

Violence does not work

except for the man

who pays your salary

Who knows

if you could still weep

you would not take the job.

So I'm ok with tears and the girls and I have cried and shared stories and remembered and asked questions. 

I have held my girls. The girls have held me.

It is a recipe for a healing tonic.

Ruby writes to her Grandma each evening telling her about the day and the girls have also worked on books of their own.

Ruby began hers one morning; a memoir of the weeks in Wellington after Grandma's death. Sky picked up on the idea and began one of her own. All I have done is provided encouragement and space to get them finished. 

As they write and draw, they make sense of this time for themselves.

The books are called "In Rememberance of Grandma." Such wee treasures.

And then there is the sewing the girls have been doing; gifts for cousins from Grandma's fabric stash.

Fabrics, which Grandma used to make dresses for my sisters and me (uh-hum, 40 years ago), are at long last seeing the light of day again and being sewn into gifts by and for her grandchildren.

As we sew, we have been weaving her qualities and gifts and love back into our lives and although we feel her absence, our hearts swell with her love.

 

And then there was the natural learning/unschooling camp last weekend.
At some point on Sunday I remember realising that I had hardly thought of mum. As I filled up on new connections and fun and beauty, the time I spent thinking of her had fleeting.

Until then, my head had been turned toward the past for ten weeks but hanging out with interesting and connected young people and their families inspired curiosity and rekindled my hope for the future. 

New ideas arose, fresh possibilities were planted and unexpectedly I found myself walking once again with the living.

Real community makes a difference.

That weekend something shifted. 

Unknowingly, the community held me and helped me trust once again that life is good.

filling the well

Last weekend was the first weekend camp with other Canterbury Unschooling families

(I am uncomfortable with the term "unschooling" but more on that later).

This idea of weekend gatherings was seeded at the Open Space I ran back in July. 

The intention of holding the Open Space was to explore ways to grow community with families on a similar path of life-learning as our own. Earlier this year as I was working on bringing into focus the vision for my family, I realised we needed to seek out other self-designing families who wanted to build deeper, long-term relationships with us. I have always been inspired by a vision of a shared community of families to grow our children up within. 

Disconnected nuclear families in the 'burbs seems to be a disease of modern life and not how we imagine humans thrive.

We are interested in thriving.

We connect with where we live, we have friends just down the road and at the same time we want a shared script with others who live without school and who trust their children's ability to learn. It's not that we don't want diversity and uniqueness; a spectrum is energising and healthy, but we need a shared story and a similar horizon  for a whole-hearted community to thrive. 

And that is what we found during the weekend.

For me, it was like drinking from a deep well.
My well had pretty much dried up over the last couple of months. Last weekend we tapped into a source of fresh connection, enough to fill the well.
We have returned tired and inspired.
I have returned with renewed hope after a couple of months where my faith in the goodness of life has been sorely tested.

It reminds me that the opportunity to grow community is always open to us and within community we can lean into the love and experience of others, sink into the ease of the common language and feel inspired by other's stories and gifts.
It reminds me that whatever we focus on thrives.
Thank you to those families that were there and are reading :)

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For those in the area, we are planning four of these gatherings next year. Email for details.
For those around Aotearoa, we also are in the planning stages of a South Island Unschooling Camp in February 2013.  Go here for details, register and get connected.

the spring fair

Yesterday we spent the day at our favourite Spring fair yesterday at the local Steiner School.  

I've been coming to this fair for many years. 

When I was at university I had good friends who had young children and we would sometimes go together and other times I would go by myself, sure to bump into friends there and just for the good vibe.

At that stage I didn't want to have children - I know, that's another story:) - but I always appreciated the feeling that here was a place that was a sort of sanctuary for children. This sense of a sanctuary wasn't a a precious, holier-than-thou feeling but was reflected in the gentleness of the activities, the homegrown creativity in the stalls and the warmth and openess of the people who were present.
Now, 20 years later, I find myself having come full circle, with young children of my own and still greatly appreciating these same qualities.

free resources: wire

We spend very little money on materials here at our place.

Our house has plenty of open-ended, raw materials and these are used most days and yet most have arrived freely at our doorstep.

Found objects in nature, gifted supplies from friends who are clearing out or upcycled, repurposed and rescued items all are welcome here. 





Engaging with the creative process doesn't need to be expensive or even, truth be told, part of your budget. 

You could spend a bomb - you know those shops full of prefabricated craft supplies and prepackaged "craft projects". They all cost money and apart from their questionable manufacturing and how far they have travelled to arrive on the shop shelf, the step-by-step style of many of them seems a bit of drain. 

Yep, go ahead and fill some time but don't expect to explore any new territory. 

Just saying.



Developing an eye for spotting possibilities takes time. Checking out my nana's fabric stash, repurposing cardboard packaging and regularly going through Gunter's wood scrap bin have been particularly fruitful places to forage. 

These free materials give us a sense of abundance that is necessary in exploring new ideas - if you are always saving the stuff for a "better, more important " project, nothing will get made. Trust me, I know, this was part of my childhood story.

All that said, clutter does nothng for my creative flow nor my peace of mind. 

With all this foraging of materials, I can't deny that I have had to become pretty proficient at knowing what to keep and what to move on out. We live small so it's grown into quite an art in itself :-)



A material we have only recently begun to explore has been electrical cabling. Who knew that cabling was an essential part of a studio? Not me. But I had read a few posts a while back (here, here and here) and been inspired and then a friend passed a pile of the stuff on to us. She had used it in some local floristry work, using the copper wire inside the plastic to bind wreaths and was clearing out.
And so the exploring has begun.

The colours, the different grades, tying options, mounting possibilities, combinations of materials are all areas being worked.
I have visions of floating ships through our living room but for now Ruby and Sky has other plans.
Perhaps I'll sit and explore some wire myself.

open space

Over the weekend I was preparing for the Open Space hui I'm facilitating in a few days. 

I'm excited. 

There are double the people coming that I had initially optimistically expected.

I'm looking forward to the conversations that arise and watching what manifests from these conversations.

(a recent day out tree planting)

I have attended a couple of Open Space hui before and immediately I resonated with the method of engagement and the values that underpin this method. As I have read more in preparation for Saturday I feel excited to have found a form which is organised around the interests and energy of the group, rather than controlled and manipulated by the organising group or facilitator.  

My main role as facilitator is to organise the actual event and then to hold the space for the duration of the gathering. Other than that, the work and energy comes from the people in the room; the power remains in their hands.

The agenda for the gathering is created from the issues and interests people bring - a comfortable fit for interest-led learners:) 

And there is one law- the law of two feet; essentially the law of self-responsibility.

As an example, let's say I'm in a group and I'm bored or disengaged then it is expected that I will get up and move to another group where I am interested and willing to contribute. The other option is to take a break. 

Again, the law of two feet seems a perfect fit for room full of self-directed learners.

On a loose page of scribbled notes and doodles is a quote I scrawled down while reading the book.
It's been blinking at me now and again as I check numbers and tick off tasks.
In the book it is referring to the important reason why participation is totally voluntary in an Open Space event.
Personally, the weight of the words has me thinking of our relationships with children and our modern education system:

"Forcing somebody to enter into an experience for which they are neither ready

nor willing is tantamount to a criminal act." - Harrison Owen.

today will be a good day...

  Yes, more crystals (here is what we did)

 On the way to the library we stopped at a favourite flower garden down the road.

We sat amongst the beauty and drew,

 And then brought it inside on our arrival home.

Some days are made up of just simple goodness.

We have a blackboard on a wall in the kitchen. At the top above the scribbles and lists and love hearts and "Wall Come" are the words "today will be a good day."

And so it was.

horse manure and the corporate agenda

It feels like Spring here. In between a touch of painting, writing letters to friends and making solutions for growing more crystals, the girls have been on the trampoline and the swing most of today. I think the trampoline has been transformed into a ship and right now I can't help but think of all the stuff that will need bringing in before dark.
But this will wait because we are about to head out to a few people in the neighbourhood, dropping off bags of horse manure for their gardens and composts.  This is a recent offer I made on our Timebank - we have a trailer, the shovelling is good for body and soul and between you and me, I get excited by horse manure and am keen to share a good thing.
But before I go I just really wanted to share this clip from the Economics of Happiness conference earlier this year. I have been putting a few links up over on the sidebar (now working by the way) but this one I want to share here because this speaks to my heart, my politics and informs how we live our daily life.
Watch it and let us know what you think about it.

our community garden

It was our day at the community garden today.

We have been going each week since Sky was just 2 - a wee one, never saying much, just trotting around finding things to be quietly fascinated with. Some things don't change much, although she does become chattier without her big sister about.

We lived just two doors up the street then and were down there most days at some point; tending the garden, passing through on our way to the village or meeting with others at the building on site.

Now we are further away and with other interests vying for our time I recently suggested we stop going for a while.

Ruby's jaw literally fell open and Sky exclaimed "What? Not go to the community garden?"

Immediately I was could see this wasn't, in fact, a possibility. 

Which I kind of knew already.

I was relieved.

Because it's not just the environment that we enjoy - being in the weather with the dirt and plants and insects.
Nor the questions and knowledge and new skills we take away, little by little, each week.
Nor the chance to work our bodies in ways that bodies have worked for millenia (ok, to be honest, I've done very little of this for a while now).
Nor all the new people that come through on their way to somewhere else, who we get to meet and chat with and learn from (I think this is Ruby's favourite part).
And not even just the food we get to raise and harvest and eat.

What it really is, is the relationships we have forged over those years.

Relationships that feel more like whanau - aunties and uncles and cousins. 

Relationships and a community that have blessed us with the feeling of belonging and loyalty and commitment and love.

Community I have looked for all my adult life; one that shares in dreaming and rethinking community, family and living with each other on this dear earth in general.

Friendships that stick around, with the garden as the home we return to.

Local friends

We have always been passionate about living locally: living our lives in the community in which we live (try saying that 5 times quickly:-)).  This has meant hanging out a lot right at our place and in the neighbourhood, getting involved with the local action, saying no to all sorts of "interesting opportunities" that would have us buzzing about in the car more and making friendships with children in the neighbourhood.

Local friends, what a blessing and an ever-increasingly rare treat in this very mobile, busy world.

Having local friends means freedom: freedom from cars, from organising in advance, from the hunger that comes from living in empty, lifeless communities and the freedom to roam the neighbourhood.

We also recognise our need to forge strong connnections with other children that are not defined by school. There is an ease and shared understanding in this special common ground.

The mix provides rich ground in which to grow.

A couple of nights ago, out of the blue 6 year old Sky looked up from her bed at the end of our night time story and asked when she was going to school. I was surprised and unsure of what she meant. Living her life free from institutions is how it has always been for her. She often exclaims out loud, "I love my life. I love homeschooling." I wondered where this question had come from.

She explained.

A very dear friend of hers who also goes to the local school had told her with great concern that she needed to go to school or else she would never learn anything. Nothing at all. I laughed out loud, relieved and amused. What ensued was rich conversation about what learning looks like and the fact that just because we don't catergorise and name all of our learning that certainly doesn't mean we aren't learning. 

Ruby was a step ahead and enjoyed deconstructing and playing with the myth that learning only happens in a classroom. She was having fun.

Sky looked excited and exclaimed, "Oh, yeah, kind of what we do every day. I can tell C. that," keen to reassure her friend.

Exactly. 

Thank goodness for friends.

a bit of this and that

Today it is storming. After such a settled and warm Autumn, it feels like one of those days where the season really turns the corner.

We have been slowing down and turning more inward as Autumn has progressed, gently our own rhythms reflecting the season. I am reading and crafting more now that the nights are longer and there is just less to do in the garden.

Can I share some words from others I have been reading recently to help me re-engage here in this space?

I'm on my third reading I think of  Dumbing Us Down by John Taylor Gatto and as always have been appreciating his clarity and vision of the bigger picture.

These are an example of the words that I drink in and feel nourished by:

" ..if we regained a hold on a philosophy that locates meaning where meaning is genuinely to be found - in families, in friends, in the passage of seasons, in nature, in simple ceremonies and rituals, in curiosity, generosity, compassion and service to others, in a decent independence and privacy, in all the free and inexpensive things out of which reall friends, and real communities are built - then we would be so self-sufficient we would not even need the material self-sufficiency which our global experts are so insistent we be concerned about."

It seems I just never tire of his words.

our community garden lunch 

Earlier this week I  also read this article, "We have Everything We Need Already: Community Control of Education" by Shilpa Jain, a learning activist with Shikshantar in India, an organisation  I have followed over the past few years. 

I want to share her words with you here simply because they resonate. 

If you have read here for a while you will know we are passionate about our local Timebank. Timebanks are perfect examples of how communities can access a deep well of skills and knowledge right in their own community; they are excellent examples of "having everything we need right now."

Just this week Ruby has been tutored in German by a neighbour, we have stacked firewood for another neighbour and we are about to contact an elderly gentleman this afternoon keen to share his love of classical music with the girls. Learning and sharing freely, multi-generational connections and a wealth of undiscovered gems right in your own neighbourhood. 

 On stage recently (nothing to do with barefoot running).

And then last night Gunter and I watched The Garbage Warrior again for I think the fourth time. 

Watch it if you haven't.  Mike Reynolds uplifts us. 

What has remained with me from this viewing is Mike criticising a culture in which "we have lost our freedom to fail" and about the necessity of both experimentation and failure to get us (as in individuals aswell as in humanity) to new places.  This was on my mind today.  

Gunter and I have been experimenting with barefoot running inspired by others in my community of bloggers. I might write about it sometime but anyway it is new and experimental and bringing unexpected discoveries. We went out in the rain today, slowly running in our barefeet. I thought about my freedom to experiment and fail as a woman passed us on the street. I felt my embarrassment as I imagined what she might be thinking and thought about how often it is that people don't try new things because of exactly this reason? As I let go and continued running in the rain along the muddy path in my barefeet, I embraced Mike's enthusiasm for experimentation, whatever the outcome. There is a feeling of freedom about it.

Thanks for allowing me to empty a bit of my brain out onto this page today. The house is finally warm and the girls have friends over - such a small house fills up fast. Gunter has begun preparing dinner and I'm off into the whirl of the pre-dinner clean up.

writing the story

Oh, the weekend.

These wild places are the places we want to be with the girls. 

We want these places to part of our family story; walking the vast landscapes and breathing in the big sky.  

We also want to learn what we can about the places that we go.

This weekend away for us was sandwiched between a trip to friends and a trip to family but sometimes you need to just say yes to opportunities and carve out the time that will help write that story.

Among other things (like the landscape and of the beauty and of the new species we met, all of which I find impossible to write about without a slightly ranting tone.) I'm excited all over again about The Kiwi Conservation Club (KCC) and the superb community resource for hands-on learning it provides to our families.

People sharing their knowledge and skills, organising activities, trips and speakers, chances to meet new families and everything with the barest cost attached.

Without this KCC trip, we might never have gone to these places nor have learnt all that we did about the place and those that live there in the streams, under rocks and in the air.

Building active learning communities depend on this culture of sharing and volunteering for the common good.

It feels good to be part of it.

Sunday morning Sky walked with me along the upper reaches of the Rangitata river. She was barefoot, her arms held out, palms upward. She looked at around and said;
"Now we are here we don't have to do anything. I just love being here and walking on the dirt and seeing everything. It's beautiful. Just reeeeeally beautiful"