It’s a lot. To say the least. Even for me, a drifting free-spirited dandelion seed - resilient, wandering, fiercely independent - Even for me it was more than overwhelming. 

It was surreal, the realness of it all. That this city of my birthplace, printed on my passport, really exists. That my blood relatives-aunts, uncles, grand uncles, came from all corners of the country to support me. That I am a part of such a long, expansive lineage of people, places, stories, customs. That all these people - remember and adore me.

It was some kind of time warp. Time travel. All of this. Space, memories, expanding, collapsing. Coming together. Beginning, restarting. Blessed. Honoured. 

Thank you all. 

For reminding me. I am made of more than I can ever fathom. 

Stories, land, blood, people.
Love. Known, unknown. 

Infinite.

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Hunan, Lixian, Old Home. Thank you, I will be back. It’s important. It’s necessary. To keep these memories in our hearts, to visit in person, to ‘look’, to share a meal, to remember, to give and to receive.

Thank you.

通通

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7 days, 1 extraordinary city.

We were entranced (shocked? dazed?) from the moment we landed - on the bus from the airport into the city, crossing bridges from island to island, barely able to soak in everything this completely new universe has to offer; on the trek over beautiful pedestrian walkway to our hotel; right to the first rambunctious/hot/humid dinner we had, squeezed into a corner table shared with 2 other couples, barely able to fit all our hot-pots and claypots and clams and pork rib broth and giant Blue Girl beers. It was an experience. To say the least.

Hello, Hong Kong. What a welcome.

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What brings me to tears, are still the ordinary magics, tiny moments. Ingrained in my heart. That big Alberta sky, even when you can’t see it. It’s ‘ever changing moods’. The camaraderie of this Windwood family, my own family and their tireless support, welcoming us home after long exhausting impossible days with a table full of steaming hot food. The music, still brings me to tears. The smiles of every individual who might have never made their way to a concert hall. These seeds, necessary to plant, for all beings - at the beginning of life, or end of life, or anywhere in between. The stories that grow. The proof we get to feel in our bones, that through time and perseverance, this musical ecosystem is making some kind of meaning.

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