Posts from January 2025

rainbow connection

January 21, 2025

No matter how many rainbows we see, they never stop being amazing. It’s almost impossible not to turn to whoever’s next to you, even a stranger on the bus, and share in the fleeting wonder of a sky awash with red and green, blue and orange, yellow and violet. Natural phenomenas kindle our sense of wonder and remind us of our humble place in the world. Volcanic eruptions, natural light shows, ice circles; very often, it’s the communality of the experience that is as affecting as the sight itself. Back in April, millions of people witnessed the ethereal spectacle of a total solar eclipse as it swept across North America. As I walked home from my studio that day, I felt a surreal connection with all the many people gathering in clusters under the darkening sky. There’s nothing like a natural phenomena to bring a city to standstill and to turn our attention to the sky, to each other, and to ourselves. Even ones as everyday as sunsets feel like an invitation from the universe to pause and pay attention. It was in this spirit that I joined the worldwide group meditation yesterday in honour of filmmaker, David Lynch’s legacy and 79th birthday. “Let us come together, wherever we are, to honor his legacy by spreading peace and love across the world,” wrote his children in a tribute on social media. “Please take this time to meditate, reflect, and send positivity into the universe.” I suck at meditating. And I’ve not watched any Lynch films. But he seemed like a celestial guy. And God knows the world could use a huge embrace right now. And I love the feeling of connectivity that emerges through communal experience. So I rolled out my mat, settled into lotus pose and for a few minutes turned my face towards the sun. A globe-wide mediation, much like the two minutes of silence observed on Remembrance Day, can encourage emotions not so dissimilar to ones we feel when we see a rainbow or a sunset. Gratitude. Awe. Hope. Humility. Connection. Even if there’s no one sitting beside you, you know that someone, somewhere is sharing in this moment, too.

tea time

January 13, 2025

One of the first things I purchased when I came to Canada was a glass Bodum teapot. I loved watching the water turn from translucent to a glimmering green. Like most Brits, I grew up drinking tea; always sugary and with lots of milk. At my Dad’s house we drank loose leaf Earl Grey poured through silver strainers into porcelain Wedgewood cups. At my Mum’s house, we dipped Digestives into mismatched mugs of boiling hot Tetley’s. My parents chose to live in very different worlds. Tea tasted wonderful in both. Once I settled in Toronto, I used to walk up to Summerhill to buy loose leaf Ceylon, Assam and Rooibos from the lovely Marisha at House of Tea. And when I started making friends I invited them over for a cuppa. My neighbour, Alison would often pop in with oat biscuits to dunk in the lemon ginger tea we both liked. There are few things more comforting then sharing a pot of tea with a friend. As my children got older and life got busier, teatime lost its sense of ritual. My Bodum teapot cracked and I stopped buying loose leaf teas. A few weeks ago, a friend popped in for an impromptu visit and all I had to offer her was a sad old chamomile tea bag. I didn’t even have decent honey to tart it up with. What kind of an Anglo-Greek has no tea and honey in the pantry? And then rather wonderfully a handmade, red clay teapot appeared under the tree from my husband this Christmas morning. With at least six or seven parts that all have to work together, the teapot poses all kinds of challenges for a potter. This one –– humble and refined –– is among the nicest I’ve ever seen. I’ve since stocked up on a variety of teas (from red rose to a fancy darjeeling) and teatime is starting to feel ceremeonious again. Of course, a pot of tea tastes best when shared so I hope you’ll visit soon. And bring biscuits.

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