Wreckreational Property

Margo and I have spent the past year looking for a place to live. To say its been a happy experience is a little inaccurate. Both of us have spent out entire lives seeking out and spending time in wild places; places where solitude and sense of space give us room to be at one with our place on the planet; our sense of self and how we fit into the world by immersing ourselves in its natural beauty. We figured the little towns and villages in the mountains, dotted along rugged coastlines and tucked away in hidden valleys would always provide refuge for those like us who’d opted to not play the game; who’d dropped out in effect through disillusionment at where our unsustainable way of life was taking us. Boy, talk about being asleep at the wheel! Recreational property, and all it brings with it, has quite literally bitten us on the ass. Prices in some of the small mountain towns have now pushed past prices for similar properties in the city. “So what”, I hear you say; “you’re just bummed because now you have to pay more.” Maybe, maybe not. What I’m bummed about is that our marauding consumer culture is now bursting out of the cities and suburbs and into the wild places I love. Places I choose to visit because I have to do on their own terms. The terms they dictate to me shape who I am. They enable me to adapt; to be creative, to live fully in the moment. Exposing yourself to those conditions is part of the deal, an accepted part of the experience. Our mountain towns are now being populated by people who want to look at the mountains, but not experience them. By people who want to live in a cute little mountain town; with a Wal-Mart and Starbucks just like they had back home. But of course they don’t want to live there full time; no that would do. You can see where this is going, and you know, I don’t want to take you on a huge rant, but let me share this with you:

Two weeks ago I spoke at a meeting for SYTA (Student Youth Travel Association) up at Whistler (2 hours north of Vancouver BC). My job was to impart the importance of travel for young people in developing tolerance and understanding of other cultures, and the enormous personal benefits of expanding our own perception of life on earth. Whilst there, something I hadn’t noticed before really, really jumped out at me. Sitting outside with my coffee, a couple in their mid fifties wheel mountain bikes past me. Not just ordinary mountain bikes though; full on downhill mountain bikes, and they are decked out with all the accompanying body armor to go with them. Problem was, it was obvious from the shape these guys were in; they weren’t even really cyclists let alone downhill mountain bikers. They’d bought into the marketing hype that says when you go to Whistler, you get to be “extreme”.  I’m telling you, over the course of 3o minutes I saw at least six people either on crutches, limping, or carrying some other form of injury that had obviously occurred because they thought they were “extreme”. They’d bought into the hype; been sold on this idea that we can all buy into any lifestyle we want. We can have it all. Yeah, we can, and we can’t. I speak a lot these days on creating our own reality. I speak about the power of purpose and intent and how we can manifest incredible change in our lives. What I’ve never said is that it happens overnight, or with zero effort. To those of you I saw hobbling around whistler the other weekend, I hate to break it to you, but you are not “extreme”, I don’t care what you’ve done in the past, if you’re spending most of the time on your butt driving a desk these days, you cant expect to just go out there and start shredding up the mountain on a bike, or skis, or anything else for that matter. It takes preparation. It takes practice. It takes time. You might be able to buy the gear, and look the part, but we wee through it. You might be able to afford that big house on the ski hill, but were not buying it. The lifestyle you’re trying to buy; the one we’ve been living for the past three decades is not for sale. The gear might be; the property definitely is, but the people who created what you were so attracted to; the people who lived and breathed the mountains; they’ve moved on. They had to, because when you brought into their town what you need to survive there, you destroyed the very essence of why they went there, and why you admired them for it. Its wildness.