musings of an aquarian age counterculturist


Becoming the Best We Can Be

“What if our ancestors got it wrong?”
Lyn White

Hello friends.  It’s been awhile.  All attempts at writing lately have ended before ever really starting.  Basically, I’ve been feeling flat and uninspired.

Until now.  I stumbled across a presentation called Becoming the Best We Can Be the other day.  Watching it set off firecrackers in my head and filled my heart to the brim. It is so good, so hopeful, so inspiring, so beautiful. So much so, I saw it twice.  It has awakened a part of me that has been quiet for awhile.  Suddenly I’m remembering all the things that matter most to me and why.  Things that too often get buried under the weight of the day-to-day distractions and to do lists.

Do yourself a favour.  Do the world a favour.  Press play.  The entire presentation is available to view online for free and is worth every second of your time.

More soon. I feel it.  xo

Full presentation available here:
Becoming the Best We Can Be

Lyn White


Spring Cleaning the Soul

I recently decided at the last minute to attend a yoga retreat in Northern California.  As it turns out, it was one of the better decisions I’ve made in quite some time.   It was truly a gift to myself.

The retreat center was located in the mountains in a gorgeous setting near Nevada City, California.  People came from all directions, from many different walks of life.  Our days were spent practising yoga, meditating, chanting, sharing divine vegetarian cuisine, and uncovering the mysteries of natural medicines through the sciences of aromatherapy and ayurveda.   Yep.  A hippie chick’s dream.

Spending time with so many other people on healing journeys brought home the idea that we are never really alone in our struggles.  Our stories may be different but our challenges and how we deal with them is often a common denominator of being human.

My heart was touched hearing how others were overcoming illness, loss, confusion and loneliness.  In that time and space we were connected to each other through compassion and caring and it was a beautiful thing.

There were a few people who I instantly connected with, and it feels as though we will stay in touch and remain in one another’s orbits for a while.  We shared great conversation, laughter and tears and I suspect we will see each other again in a similar setting in the not too distant future.  In my view, there really are no accidents.  We cross paths with certain people for a reason, and it is interesting to watch the lessons around such meetings unfold as the days pass.

This experience brought many emotions and thought patterns to the surface (as kundalini yoga frequently tends to do!) and it felt a lot like taking out the mental trash.  How wonderful to do it in a supportive environment where others totally get what’s going on because they are experiencing it too.

I will definitely be saving my pennies to embark on more journeys like this in the future.  Annual spring cleaning of the soul?  Sounds like a grand idea.


Three Little Pigs: A Redux

Strolling toward the crosswalk on Bloor West this afternoon, my mind was simultaneously distracted and engaged in that curious state of brain fog that unfailingly accompanies having a cell phone in hand.

And then I glanced up.

In the space of a moment I was brought abruptly to awareness of my surroundings by a sight so startling that all of my senses immediately woke up.

A man was walking ahead of me within arm’s reach with three pigs draped over his shoulder and hanging down his back.  Whole pigs.  Full bodied pigs.  Recently killed pigs.  Shaved hair, flopping ears, soft closed eyes and delicate pink mouths.

It took me a minute to register what I was seeing before I stopped in my tracks and said out loud, “oh my god”.  Other passersby observed the man and his cargo with varying expressions of curiosity, disgust, shock, pain, confusion and sadness.  Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.  I was transfixed.  Paralyzed.  And then I realized I was standing beside a van marked “xxx Ontario Fresh Meats”.  I watched the man cross to the other side of the street and enter a restaurant.  The last thing I saw was the detailed features on the faces of the pigs as they disappeared from view.  This visual will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Recognizing that I was seeing the pigs in their true, real, whole forms for the last time before they were to be torn apart and presented on dinner plates squeezed my heart to the point of physical pain.

The image of these helpless creatures so carelessly tossed over a man’s shoulder in full display on a city street shifted something inside me and brought to life a new level of consciousness.  The very existence of these beings mattered for their own sake — not for ours. Did the other observers see what I saw?  Feel what I felt?  Form an impression?  Make a connection?

These questions inspired me to begin writing publicly, here and there, about this and that.

I am vegan, forever and always.  And this is my first blog.

Peace to ALL.


Three Little Pigs