Home

A village can't be made from not wanting to be alone, but from service. A village person is a servant first, one who can, after great learning say, "These are my people. Here I am at Home."

Anon

This message hangs above the sink overlooking a garden woven into the land that slopes away from the outdoor kitchen. We are amongst villagers now, a group of people who have gathered at the O.U.R. Ecovillage in Shawnigan Lake to learn about all different aspects of sustainable living. The laughter and voices from a terrace below us comes from the group of adventurers hard at work building a bathhouse out of cob. The mixture of clay and straw has was the morning's work, and now the fun part has begun - moulding the walls of the new structure. At a sunny picnic table to one side sits a cluster of gardeners, discussing irrigation and the day's project - planting beets! The carefree swoop and sail of a swallow through the trees traces freedom through the blue sky.

Biking the Malahat out of Victoria Monday afternoon was like climbing out of a haze. The stress and chaos of moving, campaigning, and saying goodbye to a beautiful city all fades into the steady motion of the breath and the bikes. The smooth orange skin of the arbutus trees is brilliantly contrasted against the deep green moss dripping from cliffs on either side of the road. The great expanse of sea stretches away from us into the unknown, steady and mysterious, as the ocean always seems to be. Traveling this way, with aching quadriceps pulling a bike, a body, and everything needed for a month-long journey is mysteriously liberating. As a tiny unit of self-sustenance, home is everywhere and anywhere.

And now the villagers and travellers, wanderers and wonderers, gather for a shared lunch in the courtyard under the sun. They join hands in a circle around the long table laden with a feast - borscht, garden salad, casserole, and fresh cornbread - all prepared by the lovely Lara, kitchen magician. Traveling around the circle, each villager introduces himself and what he/she is grateful for on this day. Food tastes so much sweeter when it is blessed in gratitude and as we bike away from the peaceful village, we are fuelled by the kindness of strangers.

Today, we are grateful for freedom.