For those who have done work in the realms of emotional intelligence and/or spiritual growth, I think that it is fairly well understood that the aspects of another person’s character that we most strongly react to serve as a mirror to one’s own weaknesses or character flaws. Put another way, those things that most irritate us in others, act as a reminder of either the person we don’t ever want to be, or that any strength overdone can be a weakness.

There are all kinds of reasons why individuals choose to volunteer – to enhance their resume, for free access to an event (or to gain something), to support an organization that they believe in, to feel important, to exert some sense of control over a thing (because they don’t feel like they have control in their day-to-day life), to feel a sense of belonging, or in the case of a music festival . . . because they simply love music.

One can only imagine that mixing a group of relative strangers with different personalities, life experiences, levels of education, belief systems, values and motivations is likely to present a multitude of “mirror moments” over the course of a four day festival.

As I reflect on the 2025 Ness Creek Music Festival, I am so grateful for every “mirror moment” that I experienced. I had an opportunity to reconnect with some extraordinary individuals, meet some new ones, hear some amazing music and groups, and photograph the fascinating “camps” and accommodations that festival goers called “home” for the weekend.

I continue to make progress on my 55 in 55 list (albeit that progress has slowed these last several months) . . . I have started a number of conversations with strangers (no. 10), stayed in bed one Sunday morning to read (no. 42), lit and sat around a campfire (no. 43), spent a night stargazing (no. 49), and spent 20+ hours volunteering over this past weekend (no. 18).

“The ache for home lives in all of us”
– Maya Angelou, American memoirist, poet, and civil rights activist

For the month of roughly April 15 to May 15, 2025, the wildbunch (two doggos and four barn cats) and I are making our ‘home’ on a rented acreage as American waterfowl hunters have settled into the Lodge. This ‘move’ marks #4 since 2018 (move #15 since 1990) and ironically enough, is just one kilometer from the first acreage that I rented for six months when I moved to this part of our beautiful province in 2020.

A couple of days ago, as I walked from the bedroom to the kitchen, I stopped on the landing to admire the sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating the living room and I couldn’t help but think, “what a homey room”.

I questioned myself in that moment as I felt like it was an odd thought to have crossed my mind given that this is a temporary space. As I stood there, in quiet reflection, thoughts of what ‘home’ truly means tickled my consciousness.

If I am being truly honest, I have likely been searching for a sense of ‘home’ since I left home – looking in vain for safety, security, stability, and peace within four walls and the hearts of men ill-equipped to protect me from myself, to absorb the restlessness that I feel and free me from it.

As I stood on that landing, for the first time in my life, I recognized that this restlessness often manifests as the creativity that leads to painting, decorating, renovations, and the countless Pinterest projects that I undertake. In the process of creating a space where I feel at home, I nest, and for a time-when these projects are complete-I am settled. But that feeling never seems to last long.

What is home? What does feeling at home really mean? Perhaps, like the concepts of peace and happiness, the more one chases, the more elusive they become . . . or maybe, it is pausing on the landing of a strange house, and realizing that I have truly loved every living room (and room), no matter how temporary, that I have created for myself in the last 10 years and that the common denominator in each space was not the furniture or art, not the stuff . . . not the who I shared the space with . . . but the common denominator was me. I am home.

As for progress on my 55 in 55 list . . . I have tried a couple new recipes (no. 6), read a couple of books (no. 8), visited my daughter and her family a couple of times (no. 14), treated myself to a couple of manicures and a pedicure (no. 51), donated a couple of books (no. 52), bought coffee for the car behind me in the Timmy’s line a couple of times (no. 53) and wrote a poem (no. 13).

A Short Poem About Coming Back to Life and Trying to Find Inspiration and Joy in Writing Poetry After Love and Loss and Other Stuff: What would I write?

If I decided to write again,
What would I write?
About a day?
About a night?
Perhaps my life?
Or a butter knife?
If I decided to write again . . .

The Promise of Today

The morning light speaks a quiet truth: today is filled with infinite possibility. The world is waiting for you—not for a perfect version of you, but for the real, beautiful, capable you.

Each sunrise is a reminder that life is a gift, a chance to create, to love, to grow. You have everything you need within you to make this day extraordinary. The small steps you take, the kindness you show, the dreams you chase—they all matter.

So, breathe deeply. Feel the energy of a fresh start. Today is yours. Step into it with courage, with joy, and with the unwavering belief that you are meant to shine.

-Etheric Echoes

The dawn of 2025 marks another trip around the sun for me! Twenty-five months in to my 55 in 55 list and I am happy to report that 12 of the 55 have been completed: try 55 new wines (no. 1); make a list of 55 things I am grateful for (n0. 4 – annual activity); recycle 55 items that I have been holding on to (no. 9); save $55/week (no. 11); read 55 poems (no. 12); give 55 pieces of clothing away (no. 17); volunteer for 55 hours (no. 18); spend 55 minutes by a lake or river (no. 28); spend 55 minutes walking the beach (no. 29); discover 55 new artists – music (no. 30); limit podcast list to 55 and spend half of my time driving listening to podcasts instead of the radio (no. 39); and start this blog (no. 55).

Those things on the list that I am taking a deep breath, embracing the energy of a new year as a fresh start, and stepping into with courage over the next twelve months are the more mental health and physical well-being focused activities: read 55 books (no. 8); lose 55 lbs (no. 19); write 55 letters (no. 21); walk for at least 55 minutes/week (no. 23); drink 55 cups of water/week (no. 24); make 55 phone calls to catch up with old friends (no. 25); colour 55 pictures in an adult colouring book (no. 34); and stay in bed 55 Sundays to read for at least 55 minutes (no. 42).

This new year, may happiness be at your door . . . may it knock early, stay late and bring with it the gifts of prosperity and great health . . . may love and light surround you and peace abound.

“Have you ever looked back and been glad your prayers weren’t answered because the path you took led to something far better? Wasp Spirit is a reminder to reflect on those times, for today’s sting may hurt, but something better awaits you.”⁠

This blog post is long past due. Just over a month after volunteering at the Ness Creek Music Festival, I embarked on another first, heading across the line to do some off-grid camping in, and around, Glacier National Park in Montana before making my way to my brother Len’s in British Columbia via Sandpoint, Idaho. Overall, the trip was pretty amazing with beautiful weather, scenic roads, and lots of time to breathe.

Things took a bit of a turn once I got back to Canada when I got not one, but four wasp stings . . . two of which landed me in hospital emergency rooms (one in Creston and one back in Regina). Remembering that Colette Baron Reid’s Animal Spirit oracle deck had a Wasp Spirit card, I just had to look it up. Was the universe trying to tell me something? What was the message that I seemed to be missing?

September 2023 brought some pretty big changes to my life, changes that I neither wanted, nor welcomed. Adjusting to those changes and my new reality has consumed the better part of the last year. As the one year anniversary approached, Wasp Spirit’s message couldn’t have come at a better time.

As for progress on my 55 in 55 list . . . my trip saw me visit some towns that I had never been in and drive so many roads that were new to me, including a bucket list drive on the Going-to-the-Sun road in Glacier National Park. Overall, this summer has been one of lots of time spent walking the shoreline of Fishing Lake at the Kuroki Fish and Game Beach (no. 29), sunrises (no. 32), sunsets (no. 33), a few campfires (no. 43), and I even caught a couple of fish (no. 53)!

Dear Mom, with Mother’s Day approaching, I thought that it was long past time to apologize for a few things that I may have been responsible for over the past 50+ years. Sorry Mom for being such a colicky baby that you couldn’t bask in the awe and wonder of your first child and that you weren’t able to pursue your teaching certificate. Sorry for wanting to be a boy so bad that I refused to trade my overalls for frilly dresses. Sorry you had to play nurse to brother Len when he got 15 stitches in his belly from the twisted fender on my bike (which had happened as a result of running into the barn, the grain truck and all manner of things in the course of learning to ride). Sorry for telling brother Tony to pet the mouse that I caught meaning that you had to drop everything that you were doing to take him to the doctor (did he ever get rabies shots, I don’t remember?) and while we are on the subject of Tony, sorry for daring him to ski off the top of the barn in the snow slider skates that we got for Christmas. Sorry for convincing the boys that tag on the top of the grain bins was so much more fun than tag on the lawn (I know that a couple of sprained ankles resulted). Sorry for wiping out every single motor bike that came on the farm causing you to pay for the mirrors and signal lights of my friends’ bikes (thankfully once I broke them off our bikes they were never replaced). Sorry for getting the motor bike impounded by the RCMP for being caught riding on the road near town. Sorry for putting a rubber shark in your bed the night you watched Jaws and for hiding a real stuffed crow in a shoebox in my closet to keep you from snooping through my stuff (I know that you are petrified of birds).

Sorry for wrecking your new microwave by trying to figure out how it worked with a knife in the latching mechanism , the door open and my finger holding the start button down (I think it short circuited, but you were so mad that I never really did find out exactly what I’d done). Sorry for wrecking the next microwave by thinking I could cook a hard-boiled egg in it – who knew the egg would blow up with such force that it would break the latch on the door. Sorry for putting liquid dish detergent in your new dishwasher instead of the powdered stuff you told me to use. Sorry for staining your ceiling trying to figure out how the blender worked by leaving the lid off of it and pressing the purée setting. And when you couldn’t be home to eat with us, sorry for ruining the supper that you left for us by putting the lasagna, jello salad and biscuits in the blender and serving it to the boys in glasses so that I wouldn’t have to do too many dishes. Sorry for never following your recipes and making you eat meatloaf for 4 years every way but the right way . . . your way. Sorry for thinking that garlic and cheerios would be good in scrambled eggs. Sorry for the supper I cooked and served on your best China for your 13th anniversary – I really thought that “1 pkg.” of yeast meant the can (I’d never seen yeast come any other way) and how do you know that you don’t like pizza made with ketchup, baloney and Kraft cheese slices until you have tried it once? Sorry for sneaking into the garden and pinching bits out of the zucchinis on the six zucchini plants you grew one year so that you thought you had the only chickens in the country that liked zucchini.

Sorry for spraying myself with Raid instead of Off. Sorry for accidentally drinking nail polish remover at camp. Sorry for the stink I caused about wearing a bra – I truly thought that if I wore my t-shirts tight enough and enough of them at the same time that those things in the front wouldn’t be able to grow. Sorry for running over the picnic table when I was learning to drive the car and for racing the car once I learned how to drive. Sorry for leaving the car idle too long in the winter causing it to overheat and blow a head gasket. Sorry for thinking that I could freeze dry my favorite blue jeans on the clothes line at 30 below and then for throwing a tantrum because I couldn’t thaw them in time to wear them (it was never your fault). Sorry for every time that I snuck back out my bedroom window at night after coming in on time for my curfew. Sorry for quitting university and running away to the mountains to work for a season (I knew you were worried about me). Sorry for bringing home every lost puppy (kitten, ferret and bunny) – real and metaphorical. Sorry for moving 14 times and being too cheap to hire professionals (thanks for never being too busy to help). Sorry for inviting you to tea one afternoon and almost having a baby in your car because I didn’t know that I had been in labour most of the day. Sorry for calling you to complain about the things that my kids had done and thank you for never saying, “I told you so” despite all the times that you wished that I would someday have children just like me.

I love you, Happy Mother’s Day, Your One and Only Baby Girl

A dream is a wish your heart makes . . .

I have always been intrigued with the idea of doing more with less; reducing, recycling, reusing, repurposing; being uber resourceful; living tiny and self-sufficient. Before it was ever trendy to homestead or live off-grid, I dreamed of living a more simple life. Even today, I make my own soap, candles, mead, yogurt, and my current sourdough starter has survived four moves with me. I sew and garden and pickle and can food (granted there have been times in my life that I have done more of that than I do now, living alone).

After doing my taxes and calculating the cost of the roof over my head (not including transportation, fuel, food for myself and my furbabies), I couldn’t help but wonder if there might be a better option for living and working for the next five to seven years. I have a vintage trailer that is built for Saskatchewan winters. I have a leased spot in the bush that I can get power to. I have the knowledge and skills to make living tiny a reality. I have a thirst for adventure and, at this point in my life, I still have the physical ability. With an early March storm brewing outside and a new batch of Viking Blood mead (sour cherry) brewing inside, a dream started to take shape . . . what would it cost to live an unconventional life . . . to build a carport over my trailer and add an addition – an insulated box if you like – with a wood-burning stove, sleeping nook, additional storage, and space for my wild bunch?

As for my list of 55 . . . I have visited my daughter (no. 14), made a call to reconnect with a friend (no. 25), lit a fire (no. 43), bought a coffee for a stranger in the Tim Horton’s drive-thru (no. 53), and have added four new crystals to my collection (no. 55).

February 2nd annually marks Groundhog Day. According to folklore, if the groundhog sees its shadow, it will return to its burrow and there will be six more weeks of winter. About the same time each year, the ancient Celtic fire festival of Imbolc celebrates the midpoint between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox, embodying the increasing daylight and the gradual return of warmth. Imbolc beckons us to witness the tender shoots pushing through the soil, mirroring the inner awakening that unfolds within ourselves (www.thornandclaw.com)

As I faced the reality of spending my first winter alone on the acreage, I jokingly said that I was going to hibernate and in many respects, I have done just that. I pulled back from socializing and pulled in. I monitored my spending from the perspective of: 1) money; 2) resources (natural gas and power); and 3) where I have chosen to spend my time – I started a gratitude and glimmer journal . . . I have spent more time reading, listening to music and podcasts than mindlessly watching TV, and I have embraced a healthier daily routine of both eating and exercise. Finally, I have started to plan for the day that I leave my full-time job and this land, and I have made progress on my 55 in 55 list . . .

I read three books (no. 8) and gave four away (no. 52); I wrote a poem (no. 13); I got a massage (no. 41), a manicure, and a pedicure (no. 51); I joined an online group which led me to starting a conversation with a stranger (no. 10) and subsequently meeting her for coffee (no. 3). I have reconnected with a couple of old friends through video wine chats (no. 25) and I have finally been successful in consistently drinking water (no. 24), walking at least 55 minutes three times a week (no. 23), and have lost almost half of the 55 lbs (no. 19) that is my goal. I continue to save $55/week (no. 11).

In Saskatchewan there can be a lot of winter take place in February and March but I feel like the darkest days are behind me and the promise of Spring is so much closer than it was on December 1st. With a trip to BC planned in mid-March to take my vintage trailer to my brother’s for repair, I, like the groundhog, will return to hibernation for another 6+ weeks and then emerge open to the possibility of all that 2024 has to offer.