A Better Life

When I visited the village of Barauli, Nepal in April I fell in love with the place. The houses were small, on half acre lots where the land was perfectly levelled and filled using a system of ditches connected to the river ankle deep with water. Rice was growing in perfect rows and women hand weeding the fields, barefoot. 

Through the streets there were women walking their small herds of goats, or water buffalo. Many of them wear dresses in vibrant colours- clothes I would never dream of wearing for farm work for fear of getting them dirty! Around the houses there were chicks, chickens, and ducks. I walked all of the streets of that village on my own, everyone said hello as I walked past, and I felt safe and at home and more than anything I wanted to live there.

When I visited a city less than an hour from my home two weeks ago (Perth, Ontario) I was surprised to find it equally appealing, with flowers exploding out of every possible nook and cranny, the main streets are full of stores, pubs, and cafes run and owned by local people. The farmers market had live music and lots of interesting vendors. I wanted to move there too!

The problem with this thinking is that it doesn't allow me to fully appreciate my role in the community where I currently live. If I want my community to become like Perth or Barauli, I have to be part of that change. I have to stop looking with jealousy at what another has and put that energy into turning what I do have into something that is worth appreciating. 

My village has that look of a place which might have at one time been bustling with a lively centre but which has since been slowly dying. The symptom of nearby box stores offering people lower prices along with lower quality of life. 

If I want to live in a place vibrant and alive like Perth or Barauli (without moving there), I need to be the change I want to see in my community. I can make my front yard explode with colour and plant life. I can create a garden that can feed me, and share the excess with my neighbours. I can say hello to everyone I walk past. I can go to the art studio across the street that hosts live music on Sunday mornings to show there is a demand in this little village for affordable entertainment. I can give up the uncomfortably tight waistband of jeans and wear my beautiful dresses that I usually save for 'special' occasions that never come. 

This theme of making our place on earth more beautiful was a big part of my choosing to start Eden's Rise. I chose the name "Eden's Rise" for my orchard because I like that it invokes the idea that this orchard is where the Garden of Eden begins to reclaim the earth. 

I want to invite everyone to take their own journey and remember what is really important to them. Quiet the voice of culture and listen the child that lives within you. The version of you that survives societal pressures to conform. When you think of where in the world you would prefer to be - or what in the world you would prefer to be doing - I want you to really acknowledge those thoughts. Don't push them aside. There's no thought too big to be worth exploring. 

I have started with very small ways I can make my world better today, but I dream of living in a world where women are not still sold into sex slavery, a world where there are no borders preventing people from living in areas where they can find better work, a world where everything doesn't need to be wrapped in plastic, a world where we place more importance on preserving biodiversity than on making profits, a world where we care more about the health of people than profits.

We cannot do the work of improving this world if we don't first imagine what a perfect world looks like. Once we admit there is a problem with the current state of things we can begin to find a solution. Perhaps together we can make our world even just a little more like the Eden of which we dream.