The Eclectic

My first few days living in Stratford have been great. I moved on January 3rd and stayed one night at the Naylor’s home. That night I met Fabíola, an energetic Portugese girl and a beautiful soul. We are twof the five people joining the cast this January. Many of the so-called ‘newcomers’ are actually returning with past experience with Wildfire, and Fabíola performed with Diversity Dance Theatre—a European equivalent—so I feel like I’ve got a lot of learning to do. Fabíola and I spend the evening exchanging pictures, videos and stories from our past. She tried to explain an inside joke between her and a friend of hers about clementines—the name of which I had to extrapolate for her based on her description of “small oranges.” I don’t think I understand the joke, but it seems to amuse her thoroughly, and we share a moment whenever we encounter small oranges together.

The following day was a day of semi-training. We got up late and only worked on a couple of dances. So far, the toughest challenge is our Stomp-like routine, Step. I think I’ve got a handle on most of it, but there are still a few problem spots. Jenny, one of the Wildfire Administrators, and assistant/secretary to Gordon Naylor, gave us money for the rest of our meals today. We ate dinner at Fellinni’s, an Italian restaurant on Ontario St. Mmm, pizza. Later that evening we attended the Naylor fireside, after which we ordered more pizza. What a delicious day.

The next day was plagued with some bad luck. Firstly, I wanted to have milk on my cereal with breakfast, but grocery shopping had just occurred and the first bag of milk was yet to be opened. It was already past 9:30AM, so I thought I’d see if Jenny was in her office to direct me toward a pair of scissors. This was a bad choice. We’d failed to disarm the alarm in the building the previous night, so several seconds after I opened the door to the second floor foyer I woke everyone else with a surprisingly loud siren. Vafa took care of the alarm, but it was quite embarassing. We went to Bud Gowan today to get fitted for pants and shoes. While in London, we stopped at my place for lunch. Then I ran into a second frustration unable to find my Ruhi Book 1. Eventually I found it and we were on our way. However, when we got back, I found that I don’t have the power adapter to my camera, which is out of batteries, and uses a battery pack. Frustrating to say the least.

The last few days have been a blur of dancing and prayer. The night of the camera mishap lead to more people arriving. It is now the 7th of January, and we’re only missing two people from the cast of 11. Last night, I gave a few cast members a lesson on the “cup rhythm game”, and we played a few hands of Mow too, which I dealt. Sharing morning prayers has truly been a wonderful experience. With a number of ESL cast members, some payers are sung, some are spoken, some are in English, others in Spanish, Portuguese and Russian. Every cast member has such a beautiful soul and a sincere drive toward the essence of Wildfire, both in their technical steadfastness in dance, and their social and spiritual drives.

This evening we had dinner at the Naylor house followed by an orientation meeting with Wildfire administrators. Dinner was delicious, and the the meeting was inspiring. Gord spoke about the different aspects of our service, and its importance, stressing the opportunities for outreach in Nunavut. We had a brief deepening that feature “Quotes to Live by in WDT”. Ironically, I found the most interesting quotes were often about laws or suggestions by which I’m not particularly good at abiding. Ever since I decided to join Wildfire, I have had a great eagerness to learn and a great want to draw nearer to God, but during some of the activities where the latter is the desired effect, I don’t tend to feel as connected as I could, or have before. I think during a busy time when there will be limited time to pray individually, I’ll need extra focus on striving to do the Will of God, and put my self and my desires aside. So far, life with Wildfire has moved much faster than I can type. I only hope that I can catch some of the most charming and enlightening moments during our intensive, then nomadic journey together.

On Dec. 20, 2006, the next year of my life changed. After attending many Bahá’í and Bahá’í-inspired gatherings in Stratford during the weeks leading up to this day, Nicole invited me to see Wildfire Dance Theatre perform in the former Nancy Cambell Collegiate Institute. I invited my immediate family, but most of them were too busy for such a short notice invitation—Nicole’s invite came the day before the last performance on Wildfire’s fall tour. Brian agreed to come along, but he had a sudden academic crisis that kept him home, so I drove to Stratford alone that night.

The performance was incredible. The celebrations were fun, the social issues pieces were moving, and the cast was full of spirit. I had seen Wildfire on tape before, but it paled in comparison to the real thing. Suddenly, I was interested. At first, I considered Wildfire as an interesting endeavor for after undergraduate studies, before teacher’s college. However, following the performance, Nicole mentioned that the group needed one more male dancer for the second half of their ‘06-’07 tour. “Don’t tell me that,” I told her. When I mentioned the situation to GV, a Wildfire dance trainer, she bugged me about it for the rest of the night. During my drive home, I was no longer interested, I was excited. I had told GV not to get her hopes up because I was already committed to winter enrollment at UW and a sublet on Lester St. That said, I didn’t take my own advice.

When I got home, I left a note my father was sure to find instructing him to wake me because I had to speak with him and Mother before they went to work. The next morning I told them about this great opportunity. Needless to say, they weren’t thrilled. The university was about to close for the holidays, I didn’t have a sublet to take my place, and the change seemed, “altogether too sudden,” in the eyes of wise parents. Nevertheless, I persevered. That morning I emailed my subletter, called the university, and drove to Waterloo to meet with both. When I arrived, I found no one home on Lester St, so I headed to the university, where everyone was out to lunch. Unlucky. I grabbed myself a Tim Horton’s lunch and waited—as patiently as I could—for Ms. Stafford to arrive back in the ECE office. To be honest, I had no idea how simple or complex the process of withdrawal from a term would be, and the tour lasted until June, so I had no way of taking courses or completing coop during the spring term.

When Ms. Stafford finally arrived back in her office and I was invited in, I was surprised to find that withdrawal from a term, especially since I hadn’t paid my fees yet, was a piece of cake. I filled out a form to be passed on to two other offices, and that was that. Great. Things were finally looking up. After filling out the withdrawal form and discussing a method of opting out of my withdrawal in case things went awry, I walked to the SLC to check my email. My subletters had responded saying that one of them would leave town as late as 2:00PM, and that I could reach them at home until then. It was 1:55PM. I dashed out to my car and hastened to Lester St. where I found both subletters still waiting for me. Luckily, I was greeted with good news upon arrival. My subletters agreed that someone else could stay in the room, and if no one could be found, we would work something out that was financially feasible for both of us. We were in business.

The rest of the story was, relatively, uneventful. I submitted a formal application to Wildfire through GV, and was accepted. I found a new sublet; Albert, with whom I was supposed to live this term, but I had somewhat ‘abandoned’ when an offer to live in a house with some other engineering folk arrived, was going to live in residence the next term, and was quite unhappy about it. As a result, I was happy to lend him a hand, and he was happy to find a better place to live.
My withdrawal from school allows me to resume studies where I left off in January 2008. My plans for July – December are yet to be determined, but I know I won’t regret having rearranged my life to take advantage of this chance to serve with Wildfire. I’ve every intention of resuming my studies as soon as I can. While my life may have made a sharp left turn, I feel I’m still on the same road.

On Dec. 20, 2006, the next year of my life changed. After attending many Bahá’í and Bahá’í-inspired gatherings in Stratford during the weeks leading up to this day, Nicole invited me to see Wildfire Dance Theatre perform in the former Nancy Cambell Collegiate Institute. I invited my immediate family, but most of them were too busy for such a short notice invitation—Nicole’s invite came the day before the last performance on Wildfire’s fall tour. Brian agreed to come along, but he had a sudden academic crisis that kept him home, so I drove to Stratford alone that night.

The performance was incredible. The celebrations were fun, the social issues pieces were moving, and the cast was full of spirit. I had seen Wildfire on tape before, but it paled in comparison to the real thing. Suddenly, I was interested. At first, I considered Wildfire as an interesting endeavor for after undergraduate studies, before teacher’s college. However, following the performance, Nicole mentioned that the group needed one more male dancer for the second half of their ‘06-’07 tour. “Don’t tell me that,” I told her. When I mentioned the situation to GV, a Wildfire dance trainer, she bugged me about it for the rest of the night. During my drive home, I was no longer interested, I was excited. I had told GV not to get her hopes up because I was already committed to winter enrollment at UW and a sublet on Lester St. That said, I didn’t take my own advice.

When I got home, I left a note my father was sure to find instructing him to wake me because I had to speak with him and Mother before they went to work. The next morning I told them about this great opportunity. Needless to say, they weren’t thrilled. The university was about to close for the holidays, I didn’t have a sublet to take my place, and the change seemed, “altogether too sudden,” in the eyes of wise parents. Nevertheless, I persevered. That morning I emailed my subletter, called the university, and drove to Waterloo to meet with both. When I arrived, I found no one home on Lester St, so I headed to the university, where everyone was out to lunch. Unlucky. I grabbed myself a Tim Horton’s lunch and waited—as patiently as I could—for Ms. Stafford to arrive back in the ECE office. To be honest, I had no idea how simple or complex the process of withdrawal from a term would be, and the tour lasted until June, so I had no way of taking courses or completing coop during the spring term.

When Ms. Stafford finally arrived back in her office and I was invited in, I was surprised to find that withdrawal from a term, especially since I hadn’t paid my fees yet, was a piece of cake. I filled out a form to be passed on to two other offices, and that was that. Great. Things were finally looking up. After filling out the withdrawal form and discussing a method of opting out of my withdrawal in case things went awry, I walked to the SLC to check my email. My subletters had responded saying that one of them would leave town as late as 2:00PM, and that I could reach them at home until then. It was 1:55PM. I dashed out to my car and hastened to Lester St. where I found both subletters still waiting for me. Luckily, I was greeted with good news upon arrival. My subletters agreed that someone else could stay in the room, and if no one could be found, we would work something out that was financially feasible for both of us. We were in business.

The rest of the story was, relatively, uneventful. I submitted a formal application to Wildfire through GV, and was accepted. I found a new sublet; Albert, with whom I was supposed to live this term, but I had somewhat ‘abandoned’ when an offer to live in a house with some other engineering folk arrived, was going to live in residence the next term, and was quite unhappy about it. As a result, I was happy to lend him a hand, and he was happy to find a better place to live.
My withdrawal from school allows me to resume studies where I left off in January 2008. My plans for July – December are yet to be determined, but I know I won’t regret having rearranged my life to take advantage of this chance to serve with Wildfire. I’ve every intention of resuming my studies as soon as I can. While my life may have made a sharp left turn, I feel I’m still on the same road.

Those who know me well are aware that I have a keen interest in the study of religion and philosophy. Now, I try not to criticize those who choose a more secular view of the world than I, but there is one perspective that I’ve always disliked, but never thought about it long enough to rationalize. Recently, a new friend–Jessica of WindsorU–articulated why I hate it when people say, “yeah, I stay away from religion because it causes the most wars.”

Jessica mentioned that people always find ways and reasons to hate each other, and they do so relentlessly.  If we’d never dreamed up religion to explain the unexplained, we’d still kill each other because I have a Y cromosome, and you don’t, or I’m purple, and you’re orange, or I have more pieces of paper with the Queen’s face on it than you. Religion has become the scapegoat for the world’s problems.

Now, don’t get me wrong, something as powerful as faith is easy to manipulate into a destructive force because it brings out our strongest emotions and convictions. But even without religion, we would still be human; still have our emotions and our convictions. Our greed and our envy, our morals and our values, our oil and our profits.

Religion as a source of war is a totally illegitamate reason not to explore religion. It’s a beautiful if you dig deeply enough to learn what it’s really about. Thanks to Jess for showing me the reason behind my resistance on this one.