So there's this awesome thing that I started.  I mean, I didn't start this whole thing, but I went full-tilt with it here in Halifax.  It became a passion of mine, and I started to become a bit of a local expert in this field, and I felt confident and inspired and I felt like I was making a statement for change.  This project got lots of attention, and folks got excited, and we got hands-on help from friends and acquaintances who also felt inspired, and we got news coverage, and keeners started emailing to ask "how can I?" and "how did you?" and "thank you" and "build one for me!", and at first I responded whole-heartedly to these emails with in-depth responses and excitement for the prospect of future collaborations, and mostly, excitement for this quiet revolution of healthier living for our planet and our families and our communities.  And it felt so good.

And then it just all stopped.  

I mean, the project continued.  But I was no longer a part of it.  And I still got (and still get) enthusiastic inquiries and friends on the street still sometimes asked about this project, or future projects, and I just deflected all these questions and ignored all these emails, and dissociated myself from this passion because I was no longer a part of the original project that got the ball rolling.  And it was a sore spot.

You see, I started said project with my [now, ex] partner, and in the turmoil of our separation the lines of unity and division, and the desperate attempts to salvage a partnership became the priority - not the giant passion project in the backyard.  And as emotional pain and difficult conversations gave way to arguments and irreparable damage there was less space available to even discuss the project as ours.  It became a matter of ownership and property-rights, and it became his.

And that's OK.  Now.  I guess. You know...

But that blog post is still on this website, and I don't want to take it down, because it was a really meaningful thing to work on and be a part of, and I fucking loved that project!  So, now, a little over a year later, I'm addressing the elephant on my blog, AND want to thank everyone who was interested and supportive.  And I guess I want to give it a resting place in my life: consider this its living-funeral - I hope it's well.  I don't know what the hempcrete house looks like now or how the finishing went, but I did learn a lot while I was a part of the designing and building.  I learned a lot from the process of finding materials and getting permits to build with a "new" material.  I learned a lot from working with my partner every day, and having to just keep at it every single day, and having tiny, awkward angles to tamp hempcrete into, and having a sore body, and having a giant, often stressful project in my life that was too cool to complain about.  Thank you, hempcrete house for being the platform for those lessons, and for (hopefully) continuing to be a living, breathing structure where someone gets to live in a little more harmony with the Earth.    

And if you're interested, you can read / watch about this project here and here.  
​

Rest in Peace, Halifax Hemp-house.  May your life be long and full of living, without me.

Open, sweet child, let yourself be whole.
As you came into this world, again come home, into your Self.
Without your weights.
Within your divine being.


Whole and constant. Of essence.
​Beloved.


Deep as an ocean. Steady as the drum.
Fill your lungs with clarity and abundance.


Accept the warmest embrace.


See the loves that are meant to last,
And know the truths, those parts of you which can never be broken, stripped, or lost.
Momentarily forgotten, never gone.
Now and forever within.


Teach and be taught.


Crack open the fear of not knowing.
For none of us knows.


And it can’t be known.


And we all are seeking.
And we all are found.


And remember, your feet are on the ground. 

​This poem was written in Rishikesh, Uttarakhand, India, in the foothills of the Himalaya, on the banks of Ma Ganga.  

There was this moment last winter when I saw that my friend, fellow Birth Worker, and all around wise-woman, Yolande Clark, had shared a beautiful photo on Facebook:

tThe photo wasn't of her, so I read the caption and was appalled to read that this photo had been flagged on Facebook and the woman in the photo, Maryn Green of Indie Birth , had her account shut down for 24 hours as a result.  As a result of her sharing this gorgeous photo of the moment after her empowering, family-attended homebirth.  Apparently someone found it offensive, flagged it, and the hint of a nipple was enough for Facebook to shut 'er down..  I think this picture is just about the most beautiful thing that could go around social media.  We need more images of strong, healthy, empowered mothers feeling strong and proud right after giving birth.  I shared this image in equal parts protest and sisterhood.  

An old friend from my undergrad days, who is now an editor for Huff Post, saw this and asked me to write an article on the topic of birth being censored in the media.  Follow the link below to read the article.  

The comments are pretty scathing at times, but hey, not everyone is ready to hear that they've been brain washed and manipulated into participating in and supporting a system that would hate them, objectify them, lie to them, and abuse them; and not everyone is ready to see that they contribute to perpetuating the patriarchy that tries to bind us. 

http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/kate-varsava-/facebook-child-birth_b_4913710.html