Shared-Vision -

Camp Moomba: Friends Together Having Fun

admin — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 01:36:29 -0500

Sub-Title

Author

Sub-Title2

Content

Imagine growing up an HIV-positive child. Chances are you’re the only one in your community. Unfortunately, you live your life isolated and stigmatized, and can often lose your family and friends. This is the situation for many of the 120 children that join together each year at Camp Moomba. Camp Moomba supports children with HIV/AIDS through summer camp and programs throughout the year.

Camp Moomba offers a chance for these kids to come together in a camp community based on equality, friendship, and support. HIV, and its stigma and isolation, are incredible barriers for these children in their everyday lives. Unfortunately, many live in difficult socio-economic situations, which would otherwise prevent them from attending summer camp. Moomba is the only camp in Canada for children with HIV/AIDS, and every year our waitlist grows.

One camper, Sarah,¹ is an inspiration to everyone here on the Moomba team. Sarah, 12, lost her mother to AIDS and is herself HIV positive; she now lives with her father and brother. Sarah was introduced to Moomba several years ago. Back then she had no friends at school, and was isolated and in need of social contact with other girls her age.

Sarah registered for Camp Moomba, but on the first day of camp she never showed up. She was too shy and could not bear to be away from her father for a whole week, so she stayed home. The following year, she registered again and made it to the first day of camp, but ended up going home. The third year, with the help of her father, we convinced Sarah to stay at camp. And not only did she stay; she made a lifelong friend.

Sarah and her new friend were reunited at our Basketball program in October and continued where they’d left off. With our year-round programs we are creating opportunities for Sarah and others to keep friendships alive. Camp Moomba is a place where stigma does not exist; where kids can relax and spend time with friends.

Camp Moomba has grown from 19 to 109 children in just 11 years. In future we hope to be able to support even more children. This support comes at a cost of $2,500 per child for summer camp and a year of programs. Donations to Camp Moomba allow children like Sarah to have access to programs and support they might not otherwise have.

The sense of community, belonging, and fun we provide to our campers have lifelong benefits. Friendships are built, and these relationships are nurtured as campers reunite at our annual events. I would like to thank everyone involved in the Camp Moomba Yogathon & Blissfest—your fundraising efforts and community support help provide the much needed awareness and financial support to reduce the waitlists. Last year we really saw our camp motto, “Friends Together Having Fun,” materialize; we hope you will continue to help make our dreams a reality.

Luke Balson
Executive Director
WCPAS – Camp Moomba

¹Name has been changed

Header Icon

SVFeatures

Meditation or Margarita?

admin — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 01:33:45 -0500

Sub-Title

Yogi, surfer, and founder of the Camp Moomba Yogathon & Blissfest, Eoin Finn ruminates on love, bliss, and the importance of balancing your inner Vishnu with your inner Dionysus

Author

Sub-Title2

Content

You’re a “blissologist”—what the heck does that mean (and where do we sign up)?

Blissology is a term I came up with in university. The instant you become aware of the intentions behind your actions, you are on your way to becoming a blissologist. It is about taking the time to chart your course through the ocean of life and not just drifting with the currents of mediocrity that move so many in our world. It is about exploring the questions that will propel you towards consciously finding the balance between your own personal desires and concern for how your actions impact others.

What’s new in the world of Eoin Finn?

For me, what’s new is what’s old. What I mean is that my original goal in my late teens was to become a professor of the “philosophy of love.” Life took a series of twists and turns down various paths and now I find every year that I am getting closer and closer to that original goal lodged deep in my heart. I am writing now about love. My biggest desire now is to retreat from the world and write. When I do, so much flows out of me.

What is the secret to happiness?

The first thing that pops into mind is the love I received from my mother as a child. All parents have to be saluted for the love and sacrifice they make for their children. It is a simple but under-acknowledged gift to the world... Oh yeah, it’s [also] great to see your life as a comedy unfolding, to be able to step back and laugh at [your] imperfections. Humour is a gift.

When the going gets tough, what do you do to keep going?

Great question. Life doesn’t seem to have fewer challenges as we age. Sometimes I think about the first noble truth of Buddhism: “Life is full of suffering,” but I think they should add, “but you won’t really know this until you are 35”; when you break up, you really break up; when your parents are sick, they are really sick, etc.

I’ve been trying to develop the perspective that the glass is half full my whole life. In yoga we try and monitor body-mind feedback and learn how to breathe and stay relaxed when in challenging circumstances. I also have to get quiet in nature. No matter what’s going on in my life, I’m soon at peace with it when I sit by the ocean and simply observe.

OK, Eoin, fess up: at the end of a hard day—is it meditation, or margarita?

I have both tools in my arsenal and have to decide when it is best to apply each one. Meditation is amazing to improve our relationship with silence and to open our hearts. But in the spiritual pursuit, so many forget how to dance. In your pantheon of gods, it is great to have Vishnu, but don’t forget about Dionysus.

If Gandhi could see you now...
I think he would encourage me in my efforts to make a stand to keep the love movement economical. Why does every yoga studio have to become like a swank Beverly Hills spa with outrageous pricing? Why is organic food so expensive, when it was just normal food 70 years ago? Why does a hybrid car cost $35,000? How come recycled paper is more expensive than paper than comes directly from trees? It’s fundamentally wrong and I think that would be Gandhi’s perspective as well. Being the change you want to see in the world shouldn’t make you broke!

Are you satisfied with your life? Or do you want more?
Is a creative person ever satisfied? I remember thinking the other day that after I write my book, I could die and have a sense of completeness of my life mission, having made that offering. I am sure after I write it I will have the same feeling about something else.

It’s a great way to live, being so inspired. At the same time, there is a deep-seated contentment in me where I love the simple things that everyday life brings. The way I phrase this in [my] “Happy Map” is: “Aim for the stars, but stay grounded in simplicity.”

—interview conducted, condensed, and edited by SharedVISION editor Tamara Letkeman

Header Icon

SVFeatures

Laughing All the Way to the Mat

admin — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 19:58:10 -0500

Sub-Title

Canada’s first lady of yoga, Kareen Zebroff reflects on her journey from lonely, depressed housewife to national TV star and bestselling author

Author

by PAMELA POST

Sub-Title2

Content

I was wandering along West Fourth Avenue in Kitsilano recently. Once known for its peace ’n’ love hippie ways, tie-dye palaces, and macrobiotic eateries, I marvelled at how it’s become an enclave of million-dollar real estate, designer clothing stores, and yummy mummy boutiques.

At this most unlikely—and perfect—juncture, I encountered a woman who had changed my life for the better when I was a teenager, the child of a simpler, earthier Kitsilano.

Our chance meeting had all the hallmarks of a Kits-cosmic event.

A man was panhandling outside Duthie’s Books. I felt a strong urge to give him some money, but then I remembered I had no change in my wallet. I barely had time to feel a pang of disappointment before I saw a smiling woman approach the man, her hand outstretched with a generous donation. I felt a little burst of gratitude that the Universe had given me exactly what I wanted, without me having to do anything.

Then the Universe supplied a bonus. I recognized the woman as Kareen Zebroff, someone I had never met in person, but whose face still radiated the luminous life force that used to beam out of the TV set in my parent’s living room with the brown shag rug, back when I was a teenager. Back when yoga was weird.

“It’s weirder now, darling!” laughed Kareen, as we stood talking on West Fourth, the street people well outnumbered by the “Lulu-lemmings” herding past us, clutching their designer totes and Swarovski-crystal-encrusted cellphones.

It’s not often we get to thank the people who influenced or inspired us in our early lives—especially if we didn’t know them in person. I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

When I was 16—the same age my daughter is today—Kareen Zebroff helped steer a lost and stumbling girl (admittedly a bit of a wild child) toward a nobler path: the path of yoga. A path I was to lose again in the materialistic ’80s and ’90s, and return to in the new millennium when I came back to the mat, as it were, even completing my own yoga teacher training.

For a decade, from 1970 to 1980, Kareen hosted a national daytime show, Kareen’s Yoga, on CTV. She was like a lithe, spiritual Elke Sommer with her blonde hair, German accent, and awesome ability to bend into the full pantheon of yoga poses. She brought yoga, meditation, and whole food nutrition into the living rooms of ordinary Canadians. Folks with a penchant for Kraft Dinner and Hockey Night in Canada began doing headstands and eating whole grains. Depressed Canadian housewives got off their meds and started meditating.

It was a quiet revolution, but it made an impact. “I like to say we made more shows than M*A*S*H!” says the still vivacious, still blonde, and ebullient 66-year-old Kareen over lunch at her False Creek condo. “Over 1,100 shows! And we received over 200,000 letters from viewers and readers. It was incredible.”
Kareen is reluctant to blow her own horn, but her husband, Peter, who produced her TV show, is more forthcoming. “Many of the letters said, ‘you saved my life.’ They felt like Kareen was their friend. She came into their living rooms every day. They wrote about how she helped them get out of their funks, how she was instrumental in changing their lives.”

Kareen’s ascent to yoga superstardom in Canada was anything but contrived. She emigrated to Canada from Germany as a teen, attended UBC, became a teacher, and married Peter, a high school principal. By the late 1960s, she found herself living in the small community of Hudson’s Hope in northeastern B.C.—an isolated, overweight, and unhappy young mother of three little girls. Then she discovered yoga, which she taught herself from the one book she found on it in her small town. She went on to study with teachers including Indra Devi, Marcia Moore, and B.K.S. Iyengar, whose book Light on Yoga served as her bible.

“I took—immediately—such delight in these stretching movements; it was liberating! It took me out of my tense, slightly depressed, slightly overweight being, and it made me into this sylph-like, svelte thing. And the meditations came so easily to me, and I became liberated! My daughter, who was five and a half at the time, remembers me weeping. I had been depressed. I tried to do my crying after they went to bed, but I was not happy. Yoga brought me back to myself.”

Kareen went on to teach classes in yoga in church basements and community centres. Her classes had wait-lists. Translating a 5,000-year old Eastern practice and philosophy for a Western audience, it turns out, was Kareen’s great gift. After she did a guest spot on a Vancouver TV talk show (she and Peter had moved to Agassiz in 1968), BCTV asked her to submit a pilot of her own for a spot they wanted to fill with an exercise program. With the help of her husband, some friends, and a black feline named Mouffie who delighted viewers by demonstrating “cat pose” on demand, Kareen wowed the broadcaster.

But this was back in the day, remember, and yoga was still “weird.”

“We had to go to Vancouver City Hall and defend ourselves against charges that this was witchcraft,” Kareen recalls. “People didn’t know what yoga was. They called it ‘yoyo’ or ‘yogurt.’”

Yet her show was so popular that it went national, and eventually became part of Canadian TV history, along with The Friendly Giant and Mr. Dressup. And Kareen went on to write books about yoga, health, and nutrition that sold in the millions.

“I’ve been so lucky—so blessed. But I can’t take the credit,” Kareen says. “There was a readiness in the air for this. People wanted something more than ‘hup-two-three’ exercise. They were open to expanding into the stillness, healing themselves through the breath. Why did all this come to me? My gift, I think, is that I’m not hoity-toity. I didn’t talk the high esoteric talk, because people were not ready to hear that.”

Shortly after her show went off the air (it ran in reruns till 1986), Kareen had a disastrous fall that put a halt to her yoga teaching career. She went on to embrace holistic health, act (she appeared in episodes of The Beachcombers, Danger Bay, and MacGyver), lecture, and write more books. She’s now working on her 11th book, about yoga and sexuality, with her daughter Petra, who has a doctorate in human sexuality.

Now, Kareen’s yoga is walking. And she and her husband of 47 years practise the yoga of “loving relationship” as they walk the False Creek seawall, where for years Kareen has photographed and followed the fortunes of a pair of mating eagles. She also practises the yoga of “breathing fresh air—inspiration—being in spirit, and the yoga of Mother Earth beneath my feet.”

I know that after spending a few hours with her, Kareen also practises the yoga of laughter. And she has never forgotten something that can get lost in today’s obsession with doing yoga to get Sting’s biceps or Madonna’s abs: that the physical aspect of yoga is a preparation for meditation, for going inward—to find the you that is beyond the physical.

“These days my meditation is mainly in the form of prayer. I meditate in the morning while I’m still in the alpha state, but at night, it’s prayer and it can be quite, quite long. Now you are my friend, Pamela, and I put you in a golden light—all my family and friends each night. That’s my prayer.”

Kareen Zebroff—my first yoga teacher, the über-yogini, and a Canadian yoga pioneer—is putting me in a golden light each night.
Sweet.

Pamela Post is a CBC News reporter and writer who needed yoga to cleanse her teenage years of the bad karma that disco brought with it.

Header Icon

SVFeatures

Suffering is Optional

admin — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 18:33:48 -0500

Sub-Title

How I learned to stop arguing with reality and pick up my children's socks

Author

by BYRON KATIE

Sub-Title2

Content

Before I woke up to reality, I had a symbol for all my frustration: my children’s socks. Every morning they would be on the floor, and every morning I would think, “My children should pick up their socks.” It was my religion. You could say my world was accelerating out of control—in my mind, there were socks everywhere. And I would be filled with rage and depression because I believed these socks didn’t belong on the floor, even though, morning after morning, that’s where they were. I believed it was my children’s job to pick them up, even though, morning after morning, they didn’t.

I use the image of children and socks, but you might find that for you the same thoughts apply to the environment or politics or money. We think these things should be different than they are right now, and we suffer because we believe our thoughts.

At 43, after 10 years of deep depression and despair, my real life began. What I came to see was that my suffering wasn’t a result of not having control; it was a result of arguing with reality. I discovered that when I believed my thoughts, I suffered, but that when I didn’t believe them, I didn’t suffer, and that this is true for every human being. Freedom is as simple as that. I found that suffering is optional. I found a joy within me that has never disappeared, not for a single moment. That joy is in everyone, always. When you question your mind for the love of truth, your life always becomes happier and kinder.

Inquiry helps the suffering mind move out of its arguments with reality. It helps us move into alignment with constant change. After all, the change is happening anyway, whether we like it or not. Everything changes, it seems. But when we’re attached to our thoughts about how that change should look, being out of control feels uncomfortable.

Through inquiry, we enter the area where we do have control: our thinking. We question our thoughts about the ways in which the world seems to have gone crazy, for example. And we come to see that the craziness was never in the world, but in us. When we understand our thinking, we understand the world, and we come to love it. In that, there’s peace. Who would I be without the thought that the world needs improving? Happy where I am right now: the woman sitting on a chair in the sunlight. Pretty simple.

The apparent craziness of the world, like everything else, is a gift we can use to set our minds free. Any stressful thought you have about the planet, for example, or about life and death, shows you where you’re stuck, where your energy is being exhausted as a result of not fully meeting life as it is, without conditions.

You can’t free yourself by finding a so-called “enlightened” state outside your own mind. When you question what you believe, you eventually come to see you’re the enlightenment you’ve been seeking. Until you can love what is—everything, including the apparent violence and craziness—you’re separate from the world, and you’ll see it as dangerous and frightening.

I invite everyone to put these fearful thoughts on paper, question them, and set themselves free. When the mind is not at war with itself, there’s no separation in it. I’m 65 years old and unlimited. I’m no longer interested in what my children do with their socks. If I had a name, it would be Service. If I had a name, it would be Gratitude.

Byron Katie is a bestselling author and teacher of a method of self-inquiry known as “The Work” (thework.com). Her newest book is Question Your Thinking, Change the World: Quotations from Byron Katie.

Header Icon

SVFeatures

The New Baywatch

admin — Sat, 31 May 2008 15:49:41 -0500

Sub-Title

Beach boys (and girls) unite to give our oceans a break

Author

by GRANT SHILLING

Sub-Title2

Content

It’s been a weird week. I’m up in Tofino to catch a few waves… and a dead sperm whale rolls onto the beach. Next, I notice that a 55-metre construction crane—taller than the totem pole whose many faces stare across the water from Opitsat—occupies the spot where the BC Packers fish plant once stood. The crane, the first ever in Tofino, is part of the ongoing construction of million-dollar condos by the sea. The better to view dead sperm whales from, presumably.

Later, warming up around the woodstove at a friend’s cabin, the radio tells us about Garbage Island, an enormous flotilla of plastic trash twice the size of Texas, floating in the Pacific Ocean. If this weren’t enough, there’s also news of the planned sale of thousands of acres of prime forest bordering surfing territory on the south coast of Vancouver Island, courtesy of the B.C. government.

What’s a poor surfer to do? Well, surf, of course.

My friend Ralph and I get up the next morning to check the waves and forget our cares. But on the path to Chesterman Beach, we discover a recently poured concrete pad. Ralph, a salty former crab fisherman and elder statesman of longboarding, looks at the pad dubiously. Just what is this? One more intrusion into the natural domain? Haven’t we had enough of this already?

There are no waves at Chesterman, so we carry on to Long Beach. It’s just the two of us out there—a rare treat! Plus one lone sea lion catching waves and tumbling towards ecstasy. Still, the pad sits like a concrete Buddha in my mind.

So I ask myself, “What would Surfrider do?” A non-profit organization dedicated to protecting and preserving our oceans and beaches, the Surfrider Foundation was formed based on a simple premise: nobody is in a better position to measure the quality of the marine environment than a surfer. In surfing there is the aloha spirit: friendly, hospitable, and welcoming, and guided by love and affection. The goal of Surfrider is to appeal to that spirit. So Surfrider is, if you will, the “green” soul of surfing.

The organization was founded in California in 1984, but its roots run deeper. Environmental awareness had been growing within the surfing community since the late Honolulu surfer John Kelly created Save Our Surf to protect the beaches of Waikiki from development in 1961—a problem the south coast of Vancouver Island faces today.

Surfrider was brought to Vancouver by Adrian Nelson, a Vancouver-based graphic designer. Adrian, now 29, would travel to Oregon and Washington to surf, but slowly started getting involved in beach clean-up contests, including the Surfrider Foundation Clean Water Classic held in Westport, Wash., a popular destination for mainland B.C. surfers.

“I just fell in love with their philosophy,” recalls Adrian, who estimates he spends 40 volunteer hours a week as chair of the Vancouver chapter, working on upcoming events and coordinating their outreach programs. “It’s the only environmental organization that includes the word ‘enjoyment’ in their mission statement.”

There was already a Surfrider chapter set up in Tofino, but the transient population there made it difficult for the organization to gain a foothold. Realizing the Tofino chapter needed support from other areas, Adrian launched the Vancouver chapter in ’05. He estimates there are 200 members and activists in the Vancouver branch alone. A third chapter operates out of Victoria.

With the exception of a few windswept days per year, there are no chances for surfing on the mainland. However, Vancouver has no shortage of windsurfers, kayakers, dragon-boaters, and sailors. “The name ‘Surfrider’ is a bit misleading,” Adrian explains. “You don’t have to surf to be a member or take part; you just have to have a passion for the ocean and beaches.”

Surfrider Vancouver programs include Respect the Beach, an award-winning educational program for schoolchildren that lets the kids get their hands dirty on beachcombing field trips. Surfrider is also involved in a water quality program aimed at more effective methods of measuring pollution levels in the waters surrounding the mainland.

Meanwhile, the Victoria chapter is keeping an anxious eye on the planned development of the south coast of Vancouver Island. Last fall, B.C.’s Ministry of Forests and Range allowed Western Forest Products to remove a titanic 28,000 hectares of land from the Tree Farm Licence system, and sell it for real estate development. It’s some of the last heavily forested oceanfront land in the province, and includes the popular surf destination Jordan River. What’s more, the deal was sealed without any public consultation.

Malcolm Johnson, the editor of SBC Surf magazine and a member of Surfrider Victoria, is more than a little concerned about development plans for the south coast. “Preventing sprawl is key,” he stresses. “The idea of surfing in front of subdivisions doesn’t appeal to me. I’d rather be looking back at hillsides covered in trees. And I don’t think that’s a solely aesthetic opinion... being able to go out there and be in the midst of an intact and functioning ecosystem is such a rare thing in this day and age. The value of that experience is so much more than money. It’s priceless.”

To date, Surfrider Victoria has been actively endeavouring to have bylaws passed that will up-zone the areas, meaning any developer who buys property will have to go through public process and consultation before any changes take place. “Ideally,” says Claire MacDonald, chair of the Victoria chapter, “we would like to see the beachfront at Jordan River made into a park, and we will continue to watchdog the situation.”
On a cheerier note, Vancouver Surfrider is gearing up for the International Surf Day Paddle Out on June 21. The event, held at English Bay, gives surfers of all skill levels (and with all types of water vessels) the chance to get wet and celebrate the sport of surfing. Information booths will be set up on the beach to help raise awareness of the need to protect the planet’s coastal environments.

Meanwhile, back in Tofino, Ralph and I head back to Chesterman Beach for an evening session of surfing. The cement pad we noticed earlier has been transformed. It now hosts a bike rack—courtesy of Surfrider Tofino—for the numerous surfers who pedal to the beach with their boards. It’s a welcome—and blessedly small—development.

Grant Shilling is the author of The Cedar Surf: An Informal History of Surfing in British Columbia (cedarsurf.com). He dreams of becoming the province’s most sustainable surf bum.

Header Icon

SVFeatures

The Goddess of Gumption

admin — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 23:33:20 -0500

Sub-Title

Author

by Andrea Warner and Tamara Letkeman

Sub-Title2

Content

From the raucous realm of rock ‘n’ roll to the daring and dangerous edges of skateboarding, Maureen Jack-LaCroix has emerged as Vancouver’s golden girl of promotion. Her entrepreneurial moxie has always embraced a bottom line emphasizing social change—and now, the ingenious impresario is summoning all her brilliance to take on her most daunting challenge yet.

“It’s a profound shift in consciousness to truly value the ‘we’ over the ‘me.”

Within minutes of meeting Maureen Jack-LaCroix, it becomes clear that she is as wild as the free-flowing mane of silver curls that frames her delicate facial features. Energy and enthusiasm seem to pulse off her as we settle into an interview that underscores her talent as one of Vancouver’s best “connectors”: a networker and a weaver of ideas and people. She’s a rare find—a hybrid who’s equally comfortable working with concepts (the world of ideas) and practicality (the world of action).

Early in her career, Maureen established herself as a producer and impresario who could engineer projects at the highest of levels. But she’s perhaps best known for taking a teenage sport thought to be populated by juvenile delinquents—skateboarding—and making it a respectable and even celebrated part of urban life. Maureen, whose son is a boarder, did it through the creation of Slam City Jam, a three-day festival of skate culture and music—and the longest-running event of its kind in North America.

It was a tough undertaking. Maureen recounts bumping up against City Council, the Downtown Vancouver Business Improvement Association, and the Chief of Police, following a cover story in Thrasher magazine that featured one of the world’s top boarders bombing down a metal railing in Vancouver.

“The business association guy held it up and was like, ‘Look at this! Look at this!’,” she recalls. “And I laughed, and said, ‘Yeah, can you imagine doing that?’”

Before skateboarding, it was music. A classically trained pianist, Maureen stepped into the rock ’n’ roll scene after a college boyfriend enlisted her help in making a documentary about a band. She went on to become the band’s manager, and found herself thrust into a near-exclusive—and notoriously ruthless—boys’ club: the music industry.

The more intimate she became with the scene, the more appalled she was at the way musicians were being shafted, from contracts that resembled “master-slave” relationships to banks that rejected loan requests to replace broken instruments. Not content to merely play “backup,” Maureen founded a series of seminars on the music industry, which ultimately grew into New Music West, the biggest new music event in Western North America.

“It grew organically because it was of value, until we had 200 bands together showcasing in 20 venues, 150 talent scouts out from 75 labels internationally,” Maureen says. “It was a wonderful appreciation of our music and what was coming up from the grassroots of our creativity.”

And the hit parade doesn’t stop there. Maureen’s other credits include working closely with Bruce Allen, Bryan Adams, and David Foster to produce “Tears are Not Enough,” the song recorded in ’85 by a supergroup of Canadian artists to raise money for famine relief in Ethiopia.

It’s a star-studded resumé, to be sure, and it’s about to get fortified even more. Because now, Maureen’s entire career and set of producing experiences have aligned for her most important work yet. Get ready, Vancouver, for “Be the Change.”

A grassroots movement, Be the Change is bringing people together to combat global warming. Through a series of symposiums, it takes the huge and daunting concept of “saving the environment” and breaks it down into manageable chunks to show how our small, everyday contributions—like riding our bikes instead of driving, or composting our kitchen scraps—can result in permanent change. As the name suggests, “Be the Change” is about what you can do.
“This is no longer the time to marginalize our environmentalists,” Maureen stresses. “It’s not ‘They have to fix the problem and deal with it.’ What are our values? Who are we as a community?

“The best part of how big this global mind shift is,” she continues, “is that it’s truly ego-shattering—it’s so humbling to face the enormity of the task at hand, to fully recognize that I am not in control. ‘I’ cannot solve this problem. But ‘we’ can. It’s a profound shift in consciousness to truly value the ‘we’ over the ‘me.’”

The monthly, one-day symposiums are slated throughout Vancouver for the rest of this year. Participants are encouraged to bring the message back to their communities—but not to preach it. The philosophy is that as an individual changes, he or she will inevitably lead by example.

The ultimate goal? To get 1,000 Vancouverites to reduce their energy consumption by 20 per cent and, among other initiatives, increase their use of local organic produce by the same amount. In October, members and the public will gather for the first Be the Change Festival, featuring inspirational speakers, interactive workshops on climate change, plus music, film, dance, and poetry.

This is a project of—if you will—global proportions. But it’s also an idea that’s been germinating for 20-some-odd years. Shortly after Maureen finished working on “Tears are Not Enough,” she wrote her first proposal for an environmental event. Unfortunately, it didn’t take hold.

“At that time I thought we needed to have stars to endorse something for it to go,” she explains. “It needed to be powerful people that were behind it, and I was a young woman and I didn’t feel all that powerful. It never left me though.”

In fact, for the last several years, Maureen has had a quote from R. Buckminster Fuller, the American inventor, architect, author, mathematician, and futurist, affixed to her mirror: If success or failure of this planet and of human beings depended on how I am and what I do… how would I be? What would I do?

“I didn’t know,” she says, in answer to the first question. “But I knew I had to be different from the way I was.”

In response to question no. 2, Maureen’s taken a hiatus from her very successful company, Jack of Hearts Productions—and thus her income—to form the Be the Change Earth Alliance. It wasn’t an easy move.

“That entailed letting go of my attachment to the illusion of independence,” she says. “Of my self-worth being attached to how much money I made, and of my attachment to being in control. Not easy, letting go without knowing what will come in its place.”

With a string of such wildly successful events backing her up, it’s a leap of faith the premier producer and impresario can probably afford. After all, this is the same woman who championed skateboarding and took on the music industry—and the passage of time has done little to curb her defiant spirit.

“Ideally, I’ve become a wiser rebel,” she says. “But I think it’s really healthy for all of us to have a little rebel inside, because otherwise we just spend so much energy compromising to fit in that we don’t explore all of who we can be.”

Freelance writer Andrea Warner and SharedVISION editor Tamara Letkeman also have a little rebel inside. They just need some help coaxing her out sometimes.

Header Icon

SVFeatures

EPIC Thinking

admin — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 15:50:23 -0500

Sub-Title

Hello, lazy consumer. Meet your match

Author

Sub-Title2

Content

John Wiebe knows our dirty little eco-secrets. He knows, for instance, that we declare we’d like to buy environmentally friendly products… but don’t want to have to put a lot of work into searching for them. That if it’s sustainable but ugly, we probably won’t buy it. And if it costs mucho more—forget it.

Wiebe’s too reserved to say it, but read between the lines: we’re a selfish society. We want what we want and when we want it. So in a stroke of genius, Wiebe, a globe-trotting business consultant who’s made a brilliant (and lucrative) career of showing industries how to make money through environmental management, turned his attention to us fickle consumers and created EPIC, to showcase eco-lifestyles.
SharedVISION asked a few questions of this entrepreneurial impresario.

You have a Ph.D. in biochemistry. Do we call you Dr. Wiebe?
No, that’s really only good for getting reservations at a restaurant.

OK, John, what’s your personal philosophy around sustainability?
My personal philosophy is that we can live in a healthy environment and have a healthy economy. My belief is that the solution to environmental problems is really the business community; governments can only do so much. And I also believe that when businesses can profit from looking after the environment, that’s when they will start to look after the environment.

You’re best known for your not-for-profit GLOBE Foundation, and huge business-to-business conference extravaganzas. Why have you moved into the consumer arena with a party like EPIC?
It’s something I’m passionate about because I really do believe that people need choices. They need to be aware of what’s available. If we can show people that these environmentally friendly products are worth buying, they’ll demand them and the supplier will supply them. What EPIC is all about is just trying to get this in front of people—both suppliers and consumers.

So you find that people will choose sustainability when it meets their other needs?
When we did some surveys we found that the average consumer, while they say they would like to buy environmentally friendly products, is not really prepared to go look for them and not prepared to give up some quality or style, or for that matter, price. So what we need to do is get manufacturers and retailers to supply and provide environmentally friendly goods that appeal to consumers. And that’s why EPIC has fashion shows and speakers and sort of a friendly shopping venue and tries to present these kinds of products.

Do you think there’s a lot of fear mongering around sustainability?
Yes, there is a lot of Chicken Little “the sky is falling, the sky is falling.” But I think we need that in the same way we need people to push the envelope on almost everything from science to technology to political systems. These people can push things and push them a lot faster. Without them, we as a society probably wouldn’t react, and it certainly would take a longer time.

What are your pastimes? Golf, golf, and golf.
Some would say golf is not particularly sustainable—not environmentally friendly. I think golf can be environmentally friendly. Increasingly there are golf courses that are being rated certified by the Audubon Society and others as being environmentally friendly. I also believe you take steps: it’s not like tomorrow you’ll never use another pesticide, never do this, never do that. As long as we understand and move along a path that becomes more intelligent in the way we treat the Earth, I’m happy.

You know, you’re a pioneer. Do you think of yourself as one?
I don’t consider myself a pioneer in any way. I see opportunities where perhaps others haven’t taken action. But I think when you get right down to it we all want to maintain this planet for future generations. We all want our kids to grow up in a nice place. But at the same time we also want a quality of life that we’re used to.

—interview conducted, condensed, and edited by SharedVISION publisher Rebecca Ephraim

Header Icon

SVFeatures

Lovers in a Dangerous Time

admin — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 16:25:38 -0500

Sub-Title

With the planet running on empty, these sweethearts are running for the solution

Author

by STEPHANIE MACDONALD

Sub-Title2

Content

If just thinking about running a marathon makes you want to curl up with a doughnut, consider running those famous 42 kilometres nearly every day for a whole year. It may sound like the premise for a science fiction flick involving a futuristic form of torture, but not to Matt Hill and Stephanie Tait. These two Vancouverites are making their dream of running to save the planet a reality—and they plan to promote the concept of every individual’s environmental responsibility each kilometre along the way.

“It’s really the small actions that add up to a big result,” says Stephanie. “Whether it’s single steps in a marathon or small, everyday efforts like recycling, the cumulative effect is significant.” (Matt and Stephanie both admit to having a pet enviro-commitment; hers is replacing plastic bags with reusable cloth ones; he is crazy about composting.)

Run for One Planet is at once a daunting physical challenge to jog 11,000 kilometres around Canada and the U.S. and a moving metaphor for the steps we need to take to ensure our planet remains healthy for future generations. The idealistic endeavour kicks off May 4 right here in Vancouver with the BMO Bank of Montreal Vancouver Marathon, and will end back here next year.

After all is said and run, Run for One Planet will leave behind a legacy: all money raised—the goal is a million bucks—will be used to start a foundation to initiate yearly Run for One Planet green marathons in cities around the continent.

Matt and Stephanie possess both the energy and enthusiasm to make this gruelling adventure happen. During our interview in their cozy Kitsilano loft, they exude a degree of perkiness usually attained by the rest of us only after a few triple espressos. Extreme motivation also characterizes their personalities and professions: Stephanie is an internationally recognized speaker and business coach; Matt is an actor (he worked with Jackie Chan in Shanghai Nights and has played the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ Rafael) as well as a seven-time Ironman triathlete.

“I had the sports training experience,” explains Matt, “and as an actor, you have to get used to putting yourself out there and taking risks. Steph has the organizational and business side of things down because of her work coaching small business owners to succeed.”
It was, in fact, Stephanie’s coaching that first brought the couple together two years ago. A friend of Matt’s suggested he make an appointment with her to talk about his career path. During his first consultation, his head was spinning.

“I was fascinated by her intelligence and ideas,” he recalls, “but there was this half of my brain that couldn’t concentrate, because it kept saying, ‘Wow, look how beautiful she is!’”

Not surprisingly, their professional relationship lasted only three sessions.

“When I found out she was an avid and dedicated runner,” says Matt, “I was hopelessly smitten.”

It’s fitting, then, that the biggest challenge either of these two marathoners has taken on in their respective lives germinated during one of their regular jogs.

Running along the trails of Burnaby Lake Park one day late in ’06, they realized their conversation kept coming back to their mutual concern about the state of the environment. The couple had adopted a progressively green lifestyle for themselves, but felt it still wasn’t enough. They wanted to spread the word about individual responsibility, and do it in a big way.

“Since we’re both pretty motivated people, we tried to think of ways we could bring attention to the issue,” says Matt, “that could evolve into something bigger than ourselves and provide the push that would bring green living right into everyday life.”

Inspired by trailblazers Terry Fox and Rick Hansen, Matt and Stephanie decided to commit themselves to their own epic journey to achieve recognition for their cause. And don’t think for a second they’re not walking the walk: the motor home that will follow them down the highways and byways will run on biofuel and utilize solar power, so the adventure will be as green as possible.

In cities and communities along the way, the couple plans to make stops to promote their vision, give interviews, and—it is hoped—inspire people to think about the small steps they can take to reduce their footprint on the planet. They’re also encouraging supporters to come out and join them on the road for a few kilometres and share in the journey and the message. Their enduring—and endearing—optimism is so infectious, it just might even be enough to get some of us to throw down that doughnut and join them on a leg (even if it’s a tiny midget leg) of their odyssey.

If it all sounds like a Herculean task way beyond the capabilities of two mere mortals, Matt and Stephanie are quick to acknowledge the large group of individuals behind the scenes, including trainers, chiropractors, promoters, web developers, communications specialists, as well as corporate sponsors who’ve donated everything from running gear to energy bars for the trip. “There’s no way we could do this without our awesome team behind us,” confirms Matt.

With the first steps of their mission to save the world just weeks away, the two are eager to hit the pavement, but there is a pensive side to their desire to get going, too.

“Past the excitement to get started, and all the hype surrounding the run, this is a very serious issue,” says Stephanie. “As a global family, we’re really on a timeline here. At the core of this run is the fact that we are concerned citizens, and we want to do what we can to convey the sobering truth about the future if we sit back and do nothing.”

And what about Matt and Stephanie’s future? How do you top running 11,000 klicks in a single year to inspire your fellow humans to change their lives for the sake of the Earth’s? Matt and Stephanie aren’t too concerned. “We hope that our efforts for the planet will take on a life of their own, but we’re not about to sit back and watch,” says Stephanie. “When we get back, we’re just moving into a whole new exciting phase of our lives.”

Stephanie MacDonald is a Vancouver writer who feels that running around the Stanley Park seawall is the best prequel to enjoying a few Bellinis in the spring sunshine.

Header Icon

SVFeatures

A Global Baby's Music for Change

admin — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 16:06:17 -0600

Sub-Title

Author

Sub-Title2

Content

Mixed race (black, white, Cherokee, Creek) and adopted, the Vancouver soul singer known as GreenTaRA snubs music industry standards while attracting worldwide attention with her passionate pleas for social justice. Adrian Mack tears the wild child away from her guitar long enough to get the scoop

Tara Donald grimaces slightly as she eases into a booth at Dadeo, a New Orleans-style diner and bar on Cambie Street. The Vancouver-based musician is still recovering from a snowboarding mishap in Whistler, when she took a wrong turn onto a ramp and found herself flying through space, landing on her derrière with a solid thump.

“I have to tell everyone that they should wear a butt helmet,” she laughs, before her expression takes on a flicker of concern. “Hopefully this won’t be the lead to the story. My tailbone’s not the most interesting part of me.”

That’s true. Known to her fans as “GreenTaRA,” the award-winning musician is a self-determined, one-woman affront to the entire music business. After 15 years of being shafted by a mythically savage industry, these days she operates largely independent of it.

“Music is a dirty business, and I have no problem saying that,” she states.

“Look, I wanna make money. I’m not an idiot. But I don’t expect other people to come and do things for me. A lot of musicians think that once they get to a certain level, they can let somebody else take care of the business. But that’s the number one way to get screwed.”

The West Coast certainly has no shortage of well-meaning artists toiling just beyond the mainstream, producing consciousness-raising music that advocates change, spiritual growth, and positivity. Frankly, a lot of it isn’t very good, and some of it—especially at the earnest drum-banging end of the spectrum—is downright ridiculous. Donald’s second solo album, Global Baby, released last September on her own Easy Bake label, is a different beast entirely.

The governing musical vibe of Global Baby sits somewhere between acid jazz and the silky vernacular of ’70s soul. Buttery strings and a bright horn section help to float numbers like “Figure It Out” and “Doin’ It,” while guest-rappers Ndidi Cascade, Belladonna, and Kia Kadiri bring the more timely language of hip-hop on board. Meanwhile, Donald convincingly extends into full-blown reggae for “Controller,” which examines the legacy of Harriet Tubman, a runaway slave from Maryland who led hundreds of others to the Underground Railroad (something that has special significance for Donald, as it turns out—more on that to come).

Donald states that her “real work” is “music for social change.” An upcoming benefit in Texas for the families of the Jena Six, the group of black teenagers charged with the beating of a white schoolmate in Jena, Louisiana, in reaction to a string of allegedly racist incidents, is just one of the events on her calendar for ’08. But the songwriting on Global Baby is personal, too, reflecting Donald’s eye for the micro as well as the macro. Given the odd circumstances of her life, such depth should come as no surprise.

“Truth really is stranger than fiction,” she says, “and my life exemplifies that.”

Orphaned at birth, Donald was raised by her adoptive mother, an outpost worker for the Red Cross who would bundle Tara and her brother into the station wagon for road trips through the Yukon. Her adoptive father was a doctor, a Trinidadian immigrant who passed away when she was four. Of the things he left behind, a live recording of Nina Simone performing the haunting “Obeah Woman” in a Trinidadian church made an early impression. So did her brother’s collection of cassette tapes.

“I remember being 12 and singing Prince’s ‘Erotic City,’” she recalls. “I didn’t even know what it meant!” Donald also names the Wailers, Peter Tosh, and Led Zeppelin as influences, though it was punk that perhaps inadvertently determined her path.

“I was 14,” she recalls, “makeup, safety pins, pink hair. And I was getting into some, as my mom and step-dad perceived them, unsavoury habits.” With a chuckle, she adds, “It’s funny how when you’re little you think you don’t smell like cigarettes.”

Donald was consequently enrolled in the Prince of Wales Secondary School’s TREK outdoor education program, which sparked what would become her lifelong dedication to the environment. “And by the end of that program,” she declares, “I had a totally new perspective on how to treat the world around me. I started going out into nature. I remember the Exxon Valdez happened that year, and we were all like, ‘Come on, we’re gonna clean up those birds!’ Sixty kids, and we meant it. They wouldn’t let us go, and I was crushed.”

After graduating, Donald followed her musical muse to New Zealand, Australia, New Orleans, and Florida, where she remembers standing alone before 60,000 people when the rest of her band chose a day of surfing over a festival gig. “That taught me a big lesson,” she notes. “If I have my guitar, then I can play the show.”

When Donald finally returned to Vancouver in ’98, things really took a turn for the weird, starting with the unexpected arrival of a big brown envelope from Family Services of Greater Vancouver. It’s here that the disparate strings of Donald’s life finally converged.

“I do have an interesting life, from conception,” she stresses, as she runs down the events that would lead to a reunion with her biological parents. “My birth mother happened to bump into my biological father at a powwow at Trout Lake,” she says. “She was like, ‘Hey, I’m looking for my daughter.’ And he said, ‘Who are you?’”

Donald knew that her birth mother was white, and had always been aware of her bio-dad’s African-American heritage. She knew that his grandmother was a slave, and that her family operated an Underground Railroad depot in Ohio. But there was still a surprise in store for her.

“At 29 I found out that Cherokee was a large part of my history, on my father’s side,” says Donald. “And I recently found out Creek, as well.”

With a smirk, she adds, “Global baby, see?

“The circumstances of my birth were so bizarre,” she continues. “My biological mother was put in prison for having some illegal substances when she was two months pregnant. There was a nursing strike in the prison, and she couldn’t get an abortion. She was young, and partying, and back in the early ’70s, it was a big social faux pas to have a mixed-race baby with a black man.”

And so Donald’s birth and subsequent adoption were made inevitable by circumstance, not choice. It was with some trepidation that bio-mom would reveal Donald’s secret history to her some three decades later. Donald, however, was anything but angry or upset. She told her relieved mother, “I think that’s the greatest story I’ve ever heard.”

Invoking the same emotional wisdom that lifts her music out of the ordinary, Donald continues, “Life is so fragile, but the Universe ensured that I made it onto this Earth to do all this stuff that I’m doing. I think somewhere I must have always known that. My biological parents said, ‘I wish we raised you,’ and I said, ‘No, no, I ended up exactly where I needed to be, and every experience in life has led me to where I am, and I wouldn’t change a thing.’”

Concludes the global baby with a warm smile, “Because I love where I am.”

Adrian Mack is a Vancouver-based writer and musician who was nearly born out of wedlock, but not quite. Other than that, his back story doesn’t have much of a plot.

For more on GreenTaRA,
check out myspace.com/greentaramusic
Albums:
Global Baby (2007)
Music for a Mixed Nation (2003)

Header Icon

SVFeatures

The Secret Millionaire

admin — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 16:03:19 -0600

Sub-Title

Now the truth can be told about Carol Newell's visionary generosity

Author

by PAMELA POST

Sub-Title2

Content

To wit, multi-millionaire and philanthropist Carol Newell has spent most of her life staying in motels, not hotels. Until recently, she’d never owned a matching purse and shoes. But it’s not because she’s a miserly millionaire—far from it—it’s just that she’s never had a sense of needing “more stuff.”

When Newell went away to university in her 20s to study geology, she rented a rundown student house with a group of friends. When her mother came to visit, she was horrified.

“She said, ‘Oh Carol—this is a slum!’” Newell recalls. “I was really angry and said ‘No, it isn’t! This is regular housing. This is how people live.’ And the thing is, I loved that place.”

Big Hearts, Deep Pockets

Joel Solomon, the soft-spoken, business-savvy native Tennessean with a lingering whiskey-drip of a drawl, is still convalescing from a recent and very successful kidney transplant. But he’s more than happy to talk about his business partnership with Carol Newell.

They met in 1990 at a gathering of the Threshold Foundation, a group of individuals who had either come into financial windfalls or had inherited wealth and wanted to use their funds for causes of social justice.

Solomon had inherited several million dollars from his father, who also passed on the genetic kidney disease that ended his life prematurely. Solomon has speculated on how his illness has bestowed on him the gift of knowledge that life is precious and sometimes short. And how the wealth he inherited has been a mixed blessing.

“There’s a false authority that comes with money. People treat you differently. Everybody has an idea how you should spend your money. You become the target for foundations, universities. Yes, you face guilt, shame, hubris, and uncertainty and doubts about your choices. Doubts about whether your friends are really your friends. It can cause jealousy and rifts in families.

“In Carol’s case,” he continues, “she inherited far more money than she felt she had any reason to have. She wanted to do something meaningful and was looking for answers and strategies.”

Solomon had both the business chops Newell needed, and the ethical and environmental passion she admired, to do something constructive with her wealth.

“We are both the visionaries,” says Newell, “but he is very much the implementer. I can tell you, there would be absolutely nothing done, or very little of this would have been done, if it was just me. He is key to this.”

It was the first of many times she would find herself clashing with her family, and the expectations of how she should use her money to support a certain kind of lifestyle.

If Newell had grown up in a big city, you probably wouldn’t be reading this article about her. Or at least not for the same reasons.

But as fate would have it, this heiress to the Newell Rubbermaid fortune and recent Order of Canada recipient grew up in two small towns: one in upstate New York, the other in Illinois. The young Carol attended regular public school, and outside of living in a “big” house, she grew up blissfully unaware that she might be “different.”

Growing up in small-town America in the ’60s meant no exposure to high society, designer stores, a culture of affluence, or ostentatious displays of wealth. But it did give her a lifelong connection to community.

“In a small town, there’s more ‘keeping together’ in community,” she maintains. “I think money actually does separate us from community. It can have a deeply isolating effect.”

Newell’s father died when she was just nine years old, an event that brought not only a traumatic loss, but another life-changing event: her first multi-million-dollar inheritance.

Yet her childhood unfolded without any sense of separation from small-town life until she was sent to an all-girls boarding school in upstate New York at the age of 15. It was a good experience, she says, one that imbued her with a sense of self-reliance. But when she came back to her small town, class differences began to make themselves apparent.

“My best friend from Grade 8 told me another one of our friends had approached her and said, ‘Why do you want to hang out with that Carol Newell? She’s so rich.’ I felt terrible.... And it was probably one of the reasons I eventually became anonymous, because I never wanted to be treated differently due to my wealth.”

Three decades later, she is just now stepping out from behind her mask of anonymity. But make no mistake: Carol Newell—the reluctant millionaire—may have been invisible, but she has been far from idle.

As the founder of the philanthropic entity The Endswell Foundation and the seed-capital company Renewal Partners, she has been using her money for the good of nature and community in a very big, but—up until recently—very hush-hush way.

Newell has poured tens of millions of dollars garnered from the sales of billions of curtain rods, cookware combos, and other household items, along with the aggressive acquisitions activities which provided her Newell Rubbermaid fortune, into funding non-profit and for-profit companies that can prove a commitment to social justice, sustainability, and protecting the environment.

Money has gone to fund groups that fought for the protection of B.C.’s Great Bear Rainforest, and to companies like Capers Community Market, Small Potatoes Urban Delivery (SPUD), Lunapads, Communicopia, Across Borders Media, Happy Planet, and, for the record, publications like SharedVISION.

Newell doesn’t like to be tied down on just how much she inherited, but it’s in the ballpark of US$50 million. She has committed to giving most of it away.

She came into the bulk of her fortune when her mother passed away, by which time she’d come to B.C. In her 30s, she moved to Cortes Island. That’s also when she connected with Joel Solomon, president of Renewal Partners, who shared her values and vision. He had the business drive and acumen to run Endswell and Renewal Partners out of Vancouver. He fronted them, while she lived a quiet and anonymous life on a remote B.C. island.

On Cortes, she pursued her passions for music and nature. She sang with an improvisational group and drummed with an African music ensemble. She remembers vividly one night when “all of the pieces of my life came together.”

A group of environmentalists whose cause Newell’s companies had funded were gathered at Hollyhock Centre on Cortes for a business retreat. Her African drumming ensemble had been hired to provide music at the end of each day’s sessions.

“Fifty different environmentalists dancing wildly away, and I’m drumming and singing. Joel is there and comes sashaying up to me, winking at me because he knows nobody else in the room knows and I was getting paid 50 bucks for the gig!” she recalls, laughing at the memory.

But there was a price to be paid for wearing a cloak of invisibility in terms of her deepest sense of integrity, both in her personal relationships and because of a burgeoning sense of a new mission.

“I walked with a secret; with a heavy burden of silence,” Newell says. After some deep soul-searching, she moved from Cortes to Vancouver in 2004. She came out from behind her mask and decided to go public, in hopes of convincing other people of vast wealth to “get up off their assets” and try to change the world.

Her latest venture is Play BIG. It’s a movement to encourage individuals with “exceptionally high net assets or ‘discretionary capital’ to use that immense capacity to leverage some change.” As the Play BIG website points out, “There are currently, worldwide, 85,000 people with $30 million or more.”

That could save a lot of rainforests.

Meanwhile, Newell is adjusting to life in the city, meeting with the rich and powerful, buying shoes to match her purses, and observing the allure of living in a big-city sea of consumer choice. She admits, guiltily, to having developed a fondness for staying at the occasional five-star hotel while on the road.

“I confess I like a Westin bed. And I’m a little horrified with myself. I feel like I’m letting myself down.”

There probably aren’t too many people who would condemn Newell for her weakness for the odd down comforter while she entices the wealthy to join her as she gallops toward a brighter future.

After all, this small-town Lone Ranger is still adjusting to life without her mask.

“Am I uncomfortable? Oftentimes, yeah. Do I love cocktail talk? No, not particularly. But I’m finding my way. It’s important.”

Pamela Post is a CBC News reporter, teacher, and mom who is rich in all the ways that matter.

Editor’s Note: Renewal Partners has been a longtime supporter and investor in SharedVISION.

Header Icon

SVFeatures