19 October 2007 – Gibsons, British Columbia, Canada

’cause I’ll drink to you, my baby
I’ll think to that, I’ll think to that.

We meet people where they are, and they are all over the place. Some of them have been looking at the world situation for decades. Others have only recently awakened. And for some, the issues discussed in What a Way to Go are almost brand new, at least at the level of conscious conversation. We meet people where they are, and they see what they see, taking in what they can and will, filtering our movie through what they already know and believe, moving through whatever spaces they can move through in the three or four hours we have together. We meet people where they are, disturbing the comfortable and comforting the disturbed. We meet people where they are, in their home communities, their churches, their schools, their homes, their lives. We meet people where they are, and it is an honor and privilege to do so.

We met the people at Elphinstone Secondary School in Gibsons, and they are sobered and thoughtful and wise and aware and willing and able to meet the present predicament with their hearts open and their minds engaged.

We had a day off. Breakfast until 1 PM. Hours of good conversation. Hot showers and cold rain and soup and bread and fruit. In the late afternoon we made our way south to White Rock for a great dinner with Meg and Phil. Then we put ourselves to bed early, in anticipation of our 6 AM alarms, in order to get us to breakfast and then the ferry from Horseshoe Bay to Gibsons. It all went off without a hitch. We said our goodbyes to Nic and Viv and boarded the boat for our quick trip across the sound. On the other side, Bob met us with his car and drove us to the home of Tim and Wendy, our next hosts and organizers.

This screening was part of a Professional Development Day for teachers in BC. We met in the high school library and started the program at 11:30 AM. Val, another organizer, had it all set up beautifully, with chairs and projector and screen and sound system all working very well. Almost fifty people filed in, teachers and students and parents and other local folk, filling most of the seats. Tim gave his introductions, followed by Sally and me. Val hit play and Sally and I watched and stretched and caught up on email and ate a lunch of sandwiches and fruit and cookies that Tim and Wendy had provided. It was a relaxing and rejuvenating time, for which we were quite ready after our early morning travels. The audience laughed heartily and often, which is always so gratifying, as it means to us that they’re letting it in.

The credits rolled, we made some announcements, then we took a short break to form a circle of chairs. Twenty-seven stayed for the circle, and it was warm and clear and full of heart. We spoke of our grief and our anger and our joy and our shame. We spoke of clarity and resolve and possibility. We spoke of the challenges for young people in this time, and of the responsibilities of elders. We spoke of action and response arising from some new paradigm, rather than from domination and control. We spoke with quiet acceptance and thoughtful questioning and reflection. The circle was a safe and sacred space into which we could place our lives. It was a joy to be there.

We said our goodbyes and made our way back to Tim and Wendy’s home, where we grabbed a bit of rain gear before heading down to the marina, where Tim took us across to Keats Island in his motorboat. On Keats, Tim showed us around the camp where his Sea to Sky Outdoor School has its programs. It was a lively and beautiful place, a place where you could feel the energy of education and youth, as if such things had soaked right into the floors. From the camp Tim led us into the woods, past huge cedars and Douglas firs, over rocks and under fallen trees and up a hill and then back down. The sky was heavy and gray and the woods were very dark, in that late afternoon. I worried at how much darker it would be on our way back, but just put my trust in Tim, who knew this place intimately, and followed along.

At last we found ourselves on Salmon Rock, on the southern tip of Keats Island. It was as moving and beautiful as Tim had promised. Tim suggested we take fifteen minutes of alone time, to sit with the life of the place, and with our selves, and demonstrated the wild call he would shout out when it was time to meet up again. I made my way to the edge of a rock cliff and sat, watching below as a harbor seal poked its head up a couple of times to check me out before moving on.

The rain started to fall, tapping on my raincoat and slowly soaking my jeans. The sky was dark, the clouds low, and gulls and cormorants flew above and below me. Tim called his wild call and we head back to the camp, this time along an old road that allowed us to walk safely, even in the dark and the rain. We got back into the motorboat and pushed back across the sound, toward the warm and promising lights of Gibsons. Tim drove us to his home in his SVO VW and we warmed ourselves with hot showers and dry clothes, with a fire in the fireplace and glasses of beer and wine, with the steady presence of Jag, the cat, and with delightful conversation with Tim and Wendy. We ate salmon and rice and salad and bread and talked of the school and the documentary and the world. At ten, we headed off to bed.

Morning game… 7 AM and it was time to rise and shower and have some coffee. We said goodbye to Wendy and Tim drove us to the landing, sharing with us on the way a great model he uses to teach young people about Earth systems. We boarded the ferry, crossed back to Horseshoe Bay, got on a bus that took us into Vancouver, got on another bus to take us to a certain hotel, got on a shuttle that would take us to Seattle, and settled in with a delightful and funny driver who promised us comfort and ease.

We sit here now on that shuttle. And as we do, I find myself thinking back over our trip so far. We’re half way through, and we’ve met so many good and generous souls. I’ll drink to you all, my friends. A toast to you who have taken us in and helped us do our work… a tip of the hat, a hug from afar, as I think to that. Something Vivienne said a few days ago resonates still. I was mistaken, when I spoke of Forrest Gump in a previous blog.

We ARE accumulating a crowd on our journey, just as Forrest did in his run across the US.

We are carrying you all in our hearts.

Our thanks to Tim and Wendy and Val and Bob and all of those who created and attended the Gibsons screening. Our best to you all as the future unfolds. We carry you with us now, on to Vashon Island, then Eugene, and on from there.

Touching the ground,

Tim