On March 24, 2020 Lee and I were riding around the fields of Central Alberta’s prairie’s. A big blue and open sky, deep snow blanketing the earth and a stillness of the world that cut into the forests, even.
That was the night of the new moon in Aries. That is when the seeds of intention were planted, the seeds that were harvested on the Aries Harvest Moon. The same moon I wrote about in the last post.
The world was in lockdown.
I had been in India when it started -- the lockdown, that is. You can read those early blog entries here.
After seven odd years of ensuring I was ready to step into the space of yoga “teacher”, I was in Rishikesh, India. Studying where, for literal thousands of years, others have studied before me.
Kundalini has risen throughout the world.
I believe I witnessed Kundalini cracking in the night skies in early March over the city of Rishikesh. The earth’s saddle of Kundalini. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen and then the world shut down.
Lightning every night when there was no rain. It was not the rainy season and very out of character for the season. Kundalini is described as a crack of thunder when it connects. It is electricity. And the city that has housed this old teaching was electric for weeks. It was wild...even my teachers said it.
Anyhow, I will try to write about that another time…for right now, I am focused on the Aries new moon that occurred ten days after the earth’s population contracted COVID-19. A virus of the mind.
The new moon, I cannot remember exactly. As in, I don't remember exactly what I felt like my intention was. I remember standing beside a particular tree that night and determining that I was open to whatever was to come.
It felt like the start. But I didn't really know of what.
It was around this point that I began to launch Ascend.
Much of the work had been done throughout the previous year. Slowly I had built the website between contracts and jobs that actually were paying me. Slowly, I mapped out the programs and retreat schedules. Client-support packages were pieced together. Redrafted. Edited. Polished.
Much of the skeleton existed by the time that the new moon rolled around.
It was the Aries new moon (or in and around) that Ascend moved from a hopeful dream that I had privately tended to, into a fully operating business that my peers, friends and others could engage with.
I am honoured to be here in this cabin. Arnie’s Hideaway is what the sign above the little green door reads.
It’s a classic cabin, exactly like what you would hope to find in an old storybook. Chinked log cab, a galvanized tin roof that used to be green, appliances from the 70’s and more flies that you know what to do with. It’s one open room with a divider wall (non-structural) that, arguably, makes a great home for mice.
Nym loves it here.
She hasn’t had the chance to kill a mouse since I was in Peru. Or maybe when she was homeless for a month one September a year or so ago.
I’m honoured to be here because it feels like a hug from the higher power that I do not have a name for.
I remember crying on the back of the little Bravo Skidoo that Lee and I escaped into the wild with during the first three weeks or so of global shut down.
The engine roared, Lee was focused on the drifts ahead and navigating us over fences and across fields to forests. I was numb in a lot of ways. The winter air whipped past my face -- the return trip from Rishikesh was like riding the undertow of a wave. Effortless.
You and I exist in a world made up of trillions upon trillions of cells.
There is a perpetual cycle of life and death occurring every moment within your body alone.
There are cells that die and there are cells that are born. There are cells that clean up the dead cells and there are cells that become toxic based on other cells that they have come in contact with. The hormones released in stress, joy, fear and love influence these cells.
I remember crying as the winter wind cut at my cheeks and the trees of forgotten gullies rushed past my eyes.
“I’m sick” I had told Lee on a video chat while I was waiting in the Delhi airport to fly home back to Canada from India. India was the first country to close its borders in the whole world.
I regret nothing about mine and Lee’s ability to anticipate the significance of India’s decision. I was on a flight back to Canada only fifteen hours prior to Delhi becoming a space of mass migration and confusion.
“I’m sick” I told him, my heart was breaking leaving India, “I have COVID.”
Lee laughed, but his eyes were the most empathetic mixture of heartbreak and endearment, “You’re not sick.” he told me, “Come on, where’s my woman? You don’t even believe in this. You told me you cannot get sick with this unless you accept it.”
He was right. But in that moment, I understood that the world had contracted the virus in the mindl. It would happen like a trickle of water from a snowed over rooftop.
Drip, drip, drip, drip
Drip, drop, drip, drip, drop, drip
And then, suddenly, it all lets go and a massive slide comes piling down.
The airport was empty. Unusually empty. I didn’t know that fifteen hours from that moment where I was sitting would house a wall of military personnel and a mob of Indians pushing the line to try and access the hundreds of ticket kiosks that line the great reception area of the airport in Delhi.
It felt like the pullback of the tide before a major wave comes crashing down. Much like the sounds of one of my realest fears — tsunamis. In that moment I didn’t realize just how accurate that feeling was.
In conclusion, for today’s post, I think it’s fair to talk about the podcast, Talk the Walk with Ascend, that I've been editing while here in the cabin. I have been working with Dr. Ron Brown regarding his publication in Cambridge University Press, “Public Health lessons learned in biases and miscalculations of the coronavirus morbidity estimations”.
I think I will simply say this…
We function as one. What the majority deems to be true through their repeated actions, performative norms and general dialogue becomes the effective Status Quo.
I offer this project not in an effort to be disruptive for the sake of being disruptive, but rather, because life unfolded in this way. I am not the driver. I have been setting intention for many years now to be shown where I can be of service to the greatest good.
It is perfect that I would find myself in a little cabin in the woods, with the trees and the silence -- just as I found myself in the wild, with the wind and the forests back when Aries was in it's new moon cycle. It is perfect that the new moon would see the beginning of the shutdown and that the full moon would see me editing the conversations he and I have had. It has taken him all this time to effectively put together evidence and get the document published.
I cannot say how this project will do in digital engagement and performance — but I must accept this task. I must have these conversations and share them because what Dr. Brown has identified disrupts the narrative of the status quo that is attempting to develop itself. This is a peer-reviewed, ivy league publication in the journal that is focused on understanding COVID-19.
This is a document that has yet to be academically refuted and yet, no media source is willing to run an article pertaining to the contrary evidence presented.
If he is right, then there never needed to be a lockdown. There was a serious mistake made in the calculation of anticipated deaths.
There need not be villains when we speak of the global condition. However, to silence a viewpoint out of fear will ensure that the masses march to the beat of the drum that is being blasted, uniformly, around the world.
Dialogue is the difference.
If we only listen to one viewpoint we will, eventually, come to accept it as truth. Even if we did not believe it to begin with. Look at all of this supporting clinical data.
Whatever happens, whichever way this new project goes, I know I will be without regret. Because I believe in a world where we have meaningful conversations that make us vulnerable. I believe in the transformation that comes when we face fears and use our voice — even when that means we risk isolation. Be it physical or social.
I am not alone, and I am not worried about “I”. I have accepted this project because I am worried about “us”.