families

Thought-promoking stuff about families. Patry asks, What's your family motto (if you had one)?

eagles

Lovely photos of eagles at Dharma Bums!

frustrations

Because of the recurrence of my neck pain, I was able to join my oldest daughter and family for Christmas. Granddaughter, of course, was fun to watch with wildly differing reactions to gifts of clothing vs toys. Son-in-law cooked most of an excellent dinner, the traditional delicious stuff. His parents and grandparents were there, as well as my house-mate, Ann. My youngest daughter was there too, joined later by her boyfriend. And son-in-law's sister and boyfriend briefly came by late in the evening.

The only one missing in action was my son. I'm not sure exactly what is going on in his life at this moment, but I have a feeling he is having a bit of a hard time. Sadly, he does not seem to realize that he does not have to be alone or feel alone. We have tried to reach him, but he is not easy to reach. I spoke with stepmom who said she would be seeing him on Christmas Day. She promised to tell him to call us....

I suspect I will have to physically go to his apartment soon and ambush him! No kidding! A mother will not give up easily. He's stuck with me for life!

The rest of the holiday period I have spent pretty quietly here at home, reading, writing, spinning, knitting, trying to find relief from my neck pain. I am a little frightened, because of course, I can send my imagination into big-time over-the-edge thinking-the-worst stuff. But most of the time, I can persuade myself that, as I have before, eventually, I will be able to get rid of the pain again. It just might take a bit of time, that's all. Does put a huge crimp into the finances though, as I have not been able to get to my paying job at all.

ice

Here you can to some extent, see the ice coating everything. Footing is really precarious. Any surface of the snow that was packed down at all by foot- or vehicle traffic is now simply ice -- uneven ice at that -- that is kinda frightening to walk on. Any hope of a footing is on the snow that has not been walked or driven over. A crust of ice covers that too, but is not thick enough so it breaks and thereby, one has some traction on the snow below. Of course, the stairs and railings outside are coated with ice. Lovely... :(

seed catalogues

At an eclectic garden, I was reminded today that perhaps it's time to peruse and dream over those seed catalogues again. But first, maybe I should have a plan? Like this gardener, I also admire companies that stand up to huge agribusinesses like Monsanto.

At ode magazine, I found some heartening news about a village in India going up against industrial giant W.R. Grace and the U.S. Department of Agriculture over rights to the neem tree and winning! Isn't that mah-velous, dah-ling?

And here's a very funny photo-essay on how to decorate and enjoy your Christmas tree--from the point of view of two very active cats. Brought back memories of some of the critters I have lived with over the years.

re spiritual tourists/nomads

The Rev. John Simpson, General Superintendent of the Baptist Union of Victoria, Australia, warns in this article, that spiritual tourists are out there, on a mission to express their general angst toward religion and to prove that churches are wrong. If that is indeed their mission, then I believe that the Rev. JS has misnamed them: rather they are spiritual saboteurs or terrorists.

It seems to be a popular phrase of late, "spiritual tourists". Oriah Mountain Dreamer, a writer I had enjoyed in the past, used it also as a pejorative recently on CBC's Tapestry. What's wrong with spiritual tourists? At their most muddleheaded, they can't be worse than the ugly American who demands McD in every foreign city around the world. At their most sinister, they might even be the tourists whose tourist-dollars support the child-prostitution in far too many countries.

If religions are providing an equivalent of "child prostitution" to the spiritual tourists, shame on them, as well as the "tourist". God help us all!

However, I don't believe we need to sneer at spiritual tourists or nomads. There are many reasons why we have become nomads and why we are still searching.

I treasure the friends I have who do have a spiritual home. On many levels, we have agreed not to discuss our differences, because we do actually really love each other, even if we cannot agree on religion. In other words, I refrain from asking my questions, because I feel my friends who do belong within a religious community would be deeply hurt by my questions. Perhaps they have similar reasons for not pushing me. Despite all that, the prayers my beloved friend Lorraine has offered for me through her Catholic faith are among the most treasured gifts anyone has ever given me. (yes, she knows how I feel because I have told her many times!)

At ambivablog, Annie Gottlieb, writes aboutt those creatures, those spiritual nomads, of which I believe I am one. I really enjoyed the discussions that follow. Check it out.

bad dreams

Is there something dark out there at this time of year that torments one with bad dreams? I've had some really terrible ones during the last few days:

train-car loads of dead bodies are about to be brought in. I am expecting their imminent arrival. a terrible man who is planning some sort of newbie-initiation horror for me regarding those same bodies, me flinging myself about the room in a desperate attempt to get above/away from his planned horrors, his taunting and my acknowledgement that I do indeed intend to make those coming dead bodies my business (what I must do with them, I'm not sure, but I feel I must deal with them: I have accepted them as my duty). The first bodies to come in have been wrapped in some sort of white fabric, but of the first, one is a little child and there is blood everywhere, blood congealing all over the body, shining like purple jello. I am clinging to some sort of rafters, unable to let go of the rafters, barely able to lift my feet clear of the grossness below, looking down at the crazed, taunting man and the vivid contrasts of death and its wrappings. I know I will (through sheer will power) get over it and get down to deal with the horror and do what I must. Just not yet...

there is something wrong with my breasts. I am one moment proud hostess in my own small eccentric way. my home is open to view: kitchen, sitting room, dining room, garden. my confused son did mistake the house; it is number 4 as I thought, not the house two doors down as he had thought. Neither of us had been here recently. I am hostess in my home after some sort of abscence, the reason for which I don't know. I lead my guest in, and suddenly as a passionate embrace becomes weird and uncomfortable, I notice the areas around both nipples are bleeding, the skin tearing away. At first I thought my lover had pointed this out to me, but now I notice, he is oblivious. A empty gulf of separateness yawns as I realize my lover is alone in his mind as I am alone in my mind and soon the separateness will be felt as physical as well. I sense neither one of us is experiencing pleasure, although I was certainly experiencing desire at first. But where is the pain? I wonder. How will I ever repair my bleeding breasts?

These dreams are so horrible that I don't even want to know how to interpret them. Can I relate them in some way to what I have seen, or heard or thought about during the last few days? Not really. Can I?

the theft of Christmas

I have been mulling over my problems re my friendly gas station attendant for days and days now. Many of the things I have been reading twig that response of Aha! That is what is bothering me about it...

To sum it up, basically, he gave me a leaflet entitled The Holy Quran's Message to Jews & Christians, complied and edited by Dr. Arafat El-Ashi. It's not a big leaflet at all, but I disliked it immensely before I even got past the first few pages.

Why? Perhaps this quote from Andre Gide sums it up better than I can. "Believe those who are seeking the truth. Doubt those who find it."

I know myself well enough to realize that my perceptions are greatly coloured by my experiences. And I also do not consider myself an expert in religion, theology or philosophy, but I have been hurt often enough by people who are so sure, who have refused to be open to my questions of one kind or another, who have placed me outside, simply by my insistence that they did not answer my questions, that on some level, instinct perhaps, I feel such sureness alone is a problem.

I do not believe that God, or Allah, or whatever you call god has any problem with "the other". If Godness is all powerful, all knowing, if "His are all things in the heavens and the earth...His Chair does contain the heavens and the earth; and He feels no fatigue in preserving them...", surely the sincere seeker can ask the questions and His teachers will be provided with the patience and wisdom and means to answer the questions. Surely all the "heathens", Hindus, Buddhists, pagans, etc. in any age or era, in any part of the world are not excluded because Allah is limited to the era and message post-Muhammed (assuming that Allah's messages to His other prophets were lost of damaged)?

For example, I asked my friendly gas station attendant what the Quran has to say about all the other great religions around the world, some much older than Islam. What will Allah do about them? His response was initially confusion, then, he quickly dismissed them all. Billions and billions of people over time before time, dismissed. I just can't do that. I don't personally believe that Allah wants to be limited to only the people who follow the Quran. As the Quran itself says, "The messenger believes in what has been revealed to him from his Lord, so do believers; each believes in Allah, His angels, His Books and His apostles. We make no distinction between one and another of His apostles." (if Muhammed does not, why do so many Muslims?)

I come from a Christian upbringing. I no longer call myself a Christian. I find great beauty in much of Christian teachings, but also too much that horrifies me. So I have studied and searched within the other great traditions as well. And? same story.

For example, Buddhism, perhaps the one religion that seems the most sensible to me, has had a long troubling history of patriarchism--like most other world religions. But it does give me a great giggle to have read that in theDzogchen tradition, there is a teaching that a woman who "gives birth to the Bodhisattva Vow and practices bodhicitta", will develop on the path of awakening faster than a man!

So, flaws in the traditions of world religions? That is not a bad thing at all. That merely tells me that I have to trust that God, or Source, or the Infinite, is to be found in all inspired writers and teachers, but also, that those inspired writers and teachers, even Prophets, if you will, are or were human with human flaws, who wrote or spoke a flawed and changeable human language. It behooves me to seek, and find even, but to remember that my flawed human eyes will have flawed human perceptions and interpretations. Therefore, I must humbly keep searching and reading Inspired Writers, and searching my own heart for obstacles to the truth.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch. I read with amusement Tom Spencer's Dec 6 entry on how "the liberals want to destroy Santa, er, we mean Jesus!"

That lie is a glittering disco ball-sized distraction, trying to steal the eyes
of a frightened and worried nation away from the sight of thieves busily
desecrating the temple from their darkened money-littered stalls.

Like so many other beautiful ideas, the Christmas story is ripe for the picking, as far as some profiteering individuals and corporations are concerned. And their stock-holders would be right pissed off if they missed the opportunity! And as consumers, feeling the generalized anxieties of our societies and the passing of time as the year draws to its inexorable end, we believe we need the consumer items offered for sale!

That is so sad. The Christmas story, much of which is based on much earlier pagan mythologies and traditions, is a lovely one. It's too bad we are too busy to meditate on the stories and traditions that the time of winter solstice has inspired. It's so much easier to just buy something to make us all feel better (just stuff a pill in the painful hole) at a time when the turning of the Great Wheel of the Solar Year might have something much more poignant and precious to say to us, if we could only hear it above the jingle bells of commerce.

stupid accident

Can you imagine anyone doing this:

Putting a moisturizing lotion on my face. As I rub it in, ram little finger into a nostril. Fingernail cuts into skin inside nose. Nose bleeds. Hurts like hell!

True story. This is me! Ow ow ow ow!

neck pain

For many years now, I have been relatively free of the neck pain that used to plague me. The first time I remember having neck trouble was in high school. I went home in the middle of a history exam, when my wry neck prevented me from writing it. The pain was so bad that I was in tears. I could not bend my head enough to read the exam. I remember then feeling like some of my classmates were saying "oh sure.." under their breath, even though they probably weren't.

I attribute these last few years of relatively little pain to my yoga practice. However, during the last two or three days, the neck pain has come back. As I was asking myself "why?", I happened upon Louise Hay's list of emotional issues that may be behind neck pain and headaches. I found it fascinating that Luise associates neck problems with being stubborn about our own concept of a situation, shutting out all the other options out there.

You see, I visited the gas station I tend to frequent and the attendant that is there most often at the time of day I am there, gave me a booklet to read on Islam, addressed to Christians and Jews. I could tell quickly that the tone of the booklet was one I would disagree with, but I started to freak out on how to react, how to tell the attendant, who no doubt means well, bless his heart! That's where my tension went into orbit! I'm not in the habit of confrontations and I don't know how to say I totally disagree with the pamphlet! But, as Louise says, there are more than 250 different ways to wash dishes, so there must be at least that many ways to "confront" my friendly gas station attendant.

Now, I came to that conclusion after actually considering that maybe I was being rigid in my thinking about the pamphlet. But no. While I am quite open to considering the beauty of much in Islam, I have actually read enough to see many problems in Islam that this pamphlet most certainly did not redress--rather it emphasized them to me.

Headaches, Louise goes on to say, come from invalidating the self. So, I'm forgiving myself and going on. Migraines are created by people who want to be perfect and who create a lot of pressure on themselves. While I would not say my headache had progressed to the point of migraine, I have recently been very guilty of trying to be perfect and putting myself under a lot of pressure. So, the solution? Imagine! I giggled to find that migraine can often be relieved by masturbation as soon as you feel a migraine coming on.

So, I went to sleep last night, my last deliberate thought being:

"I relax into the flow of life and let life provide all that I need easily
and comfortably. Life is for me."

I was smiling about the thought that the sexual fears and the resistance to the flow of life that may bring on migraines could be relieved by masturbation. How delightful! As a result, I had the most marvelous dreams last night.

My neck is still quite sore today, but, I'll admit it! It is much less sore than it was... Could it be that the dreams helped? I had not even acted on Louise's suggestion!

kindergarten concerts

Granddaughter's junior kindergarten class had their Christmas concert on Wednesday night. Of course, one munchkin deserves the proud attentions of great-grandparents, grandparents, and me, Gramma, as well as parents and an aunt. Others aunts and uncles etc. greatly regrettted being unable to attend!

Granddaughter is sitting front, centre, in white tights, pink jumper and dark blue scarf


Daddy, holding candy Christmas tree made by Granddaughter, Nana Nancy and Mom


Dad, still holding all-important candy-tree; Granddaughter talking to Auntie 'Ria


grey-haired gentleman is Papa Steve; Daddy is talking to Granddaughter and Auntie 'Ria


Granddaughter

I'm being a little facetious, but I do really think it's a marvellous phenomenon, that a little four-year old can draw so many people together in love. What is that power of love, anyway?? Pretty awesome stuff, isn't it? I admit to being absolutely thrilled!

fibre stuff

It is so satisfying to make something with your hands. So often, much of our efforts seems to produce nothing (especially all the worrying I do!), or at least, nothing concrete. For example, I seem to spend a lot of time at my paying job talking, talking, talking. I know what I'm doing is informing, supportive, etc., but it's such a contrast to the results I can hold in my hands when I've finished playing with some of my fibre stuff.

Here is some of the wool rovings I received from Michelle (thankyou!!) :


which I spun into this:


Out of the stuff I spun above, I am making a pillow-cover that looks like this:


It will be a present for one of my daughters. So please, shhhhhhh! Don't tell them! Of course, if they are eaves-dropping on our conversation (they know I keep this on-line journal), ooops!

This knitting project was made out of some purchased yarn, the black is a lovely alpaca/wool blend, the salt-and-pepper, an acrylic yarn. This hat and scarf is also a present for one of my daughters, so again, shhhhh. It's a surprise.

walking with dogs

The snow makes walking around my beloved meadows great exercise. I come back breathing hard and in a sweat! But it's also one of the best ways I have to relax. Walking through the meadows and woods, where things are, just are is so calming. They are not striving to out-do each other. They are not judging and evaluating right or wrong. They just are. As I walk along, concentrating on my footing in the tricky places over rocks or fallen trees, breathing, and feel the wind or snow or sun on my face, much of my thinking/aka worrying falls away.

The dogs have a marvelous time reading the latest news in the scents along the way. Great excitement is to be found at the foot of this tree or that, in a little tunnel that disappears into the snow there, on the top of the zigzagging cedar rail fence here...then on the the next scents.

They gulp mouthfuls of snow at times. Molly stops often to chew on dead grass, to snuffle eagerly at a promising scent in the snow:


Misty leaps like a deer, over deadfallen trees, over fences, usually running at full tilt: (that's not a rabbit or hare, it's Misty in motion)


Tasha crisscrosses back and forth, keeping tabs on all of us, trying to keep us in line, occasionally nipping, herding:


They are all laughing, eyes sparkling with fun and eagerness.

What I was worried were joy-riders last week, have turned out to be a team of loggers scouting out the best route to get to the cedars in the low-lying area by the creek, beyond the last meadow. A "road" over the snow-covered meadows has now been tracked by heavy machinery and part of the cedar-rail fence taken down to make a gateway into the woods beyond. I have mixed feelings as I note the changes to the woods around us. But the loggers do not disturb the peace of our house, nor do I encounter them on my walks. Somehow, I seem to time my walks to when they have gone and the woods are silent. I have the woods to myself and the dogs.

whirl winds & kindness

I'm trying to stay calm, really I am. Most of the time, I have been enjoying myself during this run-up to the holidays. I've been shopping and knitting and partying and watching back-to-back episodes of "Monarch of the Glen" as I knit.

As usual, the ideas I had been contemplating and canoodling over for months, suddenly have become last-minute projects that I am slightly worried I will not finish on time. Unfortunately, this is normal for me.

Every Christmas Eve day, I am out there with all the other last minute shoppers. It is fun. The majority are smiling, pretty relaxed and resigned to be among the rest of us unorganized, slightly frazzled, unwashed masses in the whirlwind of anticipation and preparation.

In total constrast to me, I was priviliged recently to attend a dinner party, given by one of my uber-organized peers at my paying job. Some, unfairly I think, call her "martha", with a bit of snideness. I, however, fully acknowledge my wistful desire to be able to throw parties like the one she gave us, and with a tinge of jealousy, admit that I probably never will. But I am very grateful to have enjoyed a party put together with such care, such generosity and such attention to detail.

I am intentionally not mentioning her name. You will understand why in a moment. She did ask us to contribute $10 each, as this event pretty much was the "staff party" this year. As you can see from pics below, this probably didn't even cover the cost of the party favors at each plate -- handmade chocolates, beautifully wrapped. The surprise was that she chose to donate our contribution to a needy family, rather that using it to offset her expenses. This is why I believe she would rather that I not tell you her name. Although I know she really enjoyes lavish entertaining, she did not do this for her own glory. I believe the whole evening was a wonderful gift to all of us from the most beautiful, brave and generously loving place in her heart. (excuse me while I wipe my tears and snuffle most inelegantly into tissue, right now)






This brings me to thinking about kindness. In a recent interview on television, the Dalai Lama said he believed the world is more like heaven than hell -- this inspite of the constant stream of war, murder, hatred and mayhem that we see on the news. We do hear in Canada that crime rates are going down, but the content of each newscast is still pretty much the same. A rare treat this season has been the odd story about kindness. Perhaps its the season, perhaps not!

On Tapestry , Dec 18/05, on CBC radio, Mary Hynes interviewedMarc Barasch, author of Field Notes on the Compassionate Life: A Search for the Soul of Kindness. At one point, he made the point that people that he interviewed for the book, people who had made some kind of extremely generous gift --eg, donated a kidney to a stranger--believed that the world is a generous place. Should their one remaining kidney fail, they totally believed that someone would donate one to them. They did not believe they had done anything out of the ordinary. They believed they had done what anyone would do. And don't we hear that all the time from people who have done something generous or heroic?

The other thing that struck me was that Darwin mentions "survival of the fittest" barely half a dozen times in all of his writing. He was, apparently, disappointed that this was used to support the crassest kind of capitalism. He did observe and wrote at length about the supportive behaviors of animals towards the weaker among them and felt that these behaviors did more to ensure the survival of the individual as well as the species. Why did that get pushed aside?

Anyhow, the great generosity that we see at this season is a lovely reminder of the kindness that we can be capable of at every season and elicits from me tears of gratitude: gratitude for the love and kindness I receive and gratitude that I have something to give as well.

love

The other night I had serial, repeating dreams about losing jewelry. I was desperate in each dream to recover it all. Whether the scene was an arena, one of those European bathrooms that is a hole in the ground, or some vague grey room with children playing with my jewelry, in each scene, I was very busy trying to pick it all up. The trouble was, it kept slipping away, dribbling back out of my grasp. And what was worse, this jewelry is not valuable. All the stuff in my dreams was cheap, costume jewelry. I kept saying to myself, it's cheap, costume jewelry, but the feeling of desperation, of loss, remained.

"People are backwards. Ignorant of the true Self they pursue things
willingly, suffering immeasurable pains in their greed for a little bit of
pleasure. In the mornings before they've opened their eyes and gotten out of
bed, when they're still only half awake, their minds are already flying about in
confusion flowing along with random thoughts. Although good and bad deeds have
not yet appeared, heaven and hell are already formed in their hearts before they
even get out of bed. By the time they go in to action, the seeds of heaven and
hell are already implanted in their minds."- Ta-Hui

"If there is love, there is hope that one may have real families, real
brotherhood, real equanimity, real peace. If the love within your mind is lost
and you see other beings as enemies, then no matter how much knowledge or
education or material comfort you have, only suffering and confusion will
ensue"- His Holiness the Dalai Lama, The little book of Buddhism

for Granddaughter:

Today Gramma was going outside for a walk,
so she got dressed up.


First, she put on a warm, long-sleeved undershirt.




She carefully tucked the undershirt into flannel pj's.




She pulled some thick, red striped socks over the cuffs of the pj's,
as far as they would go.





Then over the undershirt, she put on a thick, fleece pullover.




And over her pj's she pulled on a pair of ugly
but warm sweat pants.




On her head, Gramma put a woolly white beret.





And on top of the beret, she put on a hood with furry trim
and tied it under her chin.





On her hands, Gramma put on a pair
of blue fleece gloves.





Then on top of the gloves, she put on a pair
of thick, black, leather mitts.




Then Gramma put on a blue skijacket and a pair of black boots.
It's not pretty, but it's WARM!


Ooops, Gramma! You dropped one of your mitts!

innocent people

I was stunned to read parts of Harold Pinter's acceptance speech of the Nobel Prize. I have never been able to see one of his plays, but have read a lot of Pinter's writing. Huitzel at Stone Bridge posted great portions of the speech, and reading it, I was horrified, but unable to stop reading. Of course, the U.S., acting like a rogue nation is not news, but to have it so clearly, step by step, spelled out in this speech by one of the greatest communicators of our time, was like a kick in the stomach. What is it that allows so many people to be completely blinded to the lies?

It must be a terrible thing to have your government doing evil in your name --theAmericanpeople, amen.

Here is a more cheerful note at the cassandra pages about what Clinton was able to do in Montreal.

avec un nuage de lait

Ann Kenny and Jean Paul Brigand at un jardin habite, in the Alentejo region of southern Portugal, have a garden kitchen section at their site, with recipes. This is where I found this lovely recipe for "Tisane d'oranger au lait (Cha de laranjeira com leite). Lilia's mother makes this tea and finishes it off with "a cloud of milk". Doesn't that sound wonderful. Check it out!

god's breath

"Man's higher intelligence may come in from the stars, winding as a filmy snake inwards, circling through the Milky Way, or Dragon's Path, entering Earth from the direction of the Pole Star, as some of our ancestors imagined. It may come from a series of age-long visits from other and more developed planets, in flaming chariots, wheels, groups of spacemen called angels. It may be called up by the higher or inner sun radiating from a sphere 'behind' the physical. It may be from any of these things, or it may not.From God's breath man became a living soul, in the old story. God's breath might come in many forms, with the Mercury-snake not the least worthy concept."--Ross Nichols,The Book of Druidry

porcupines revisited

It was a very cold, brilliantly sunny day today. We're hoping that with the full moon in a couple of days, we will get some milder weather. I'm not complaining, mind. I love the snow.

I noticed this morning that a nice bank of snow is covering the pieris, holly and rhododendron at the front of the house--hopefully a warm blanket to protect them from the winter winds. The winds do tear up the hill from the lake when the winds are from the northwest, and they are bitterly cold.

Before I got down to doing some chores, I went for a short walk around my beloved meadows again. When we got to the bottom of the third meadow where the land goes downwards, I assume to a little river that I have heard goes into the lake just north of there, I was looking forward to checking on the porcupine tree.

Before I even got to it, Molly had gone on ahead and started barking. As I came around a little bend, I could see that the porcupines had climbed up the hollow trunk and were visible in the second hole which is about 3 yards off the ground. I took some pictures, which I'm happy to report seem to have turned out ok.

coming up to the tree from the east side, the upper hole and the porcupine visible already



the first time I came upon them, I caught a glimpse of the porcupines climbing up the tunnel in the tree, turning to present their backside and quills towards the opening of the hole



these guys(only one of the two is visible here) look large, fully mature with quills that look to be very hard, sharp and about 3&1/2" long



walking around to the west side of the tree, here is the mound of droppings I could not identify the first time I walked this way



the bottom hole at the back/north side of the tree



a few stray quills are in the hole--probably not visible in the photo. Misty, who is quite a climber and fence-top-walker, had no interest in trying to climb in there--she's too smart for that.



walking away now, a backward look at the west side of the porcupines' tree.

There was a distinct odour of ?urine, ?porcupine stool, depending on which side of the wind one stood.

Again, many tracks crisscrossed the meadows, most of them a bit drifted in with snow so I could not be sure what they were. I took some pictures of the clearest ones. Maybe someone can tell me what they might be?


the first set, quite small prints, of what?


the second set, also small, looks like a change in direction, some creature changed its mind & ran back toward the grasses


the second set, close up, prints of what?


the third set, deer


see?


The most upsetting thing was a large black truck, a Dodge Ram, which overtook me as I was just starting out on my walk, going out the lane. It did not alarm me, initially. There were a couple of young guys in the truck. They would not meet my eye or greet me as people do out here in the country, which I thought was odd, but they did take care to slow down as the three dogs were all over the lane--no sense around cars at all!

But as I turned to come home, coming over the rocks dividing the third (farthest) meadow from the second, I noticed the truck tracks circling the meadow. They were joy-riders! That's why they would not look me in the eye, when they passed me earlier! Because we have had a bit of activity with the loggers in the woods, etc., even though I did not recognize the truck, I had not been suspicious at first. Now, I soo-oo-o regretted that I did not note the license plate!

first crush

Was I holding her hand? Were any of my younger siblings with us that day? It doesnt' matter. What matters was that suddenly he was there, coming down the sidewalk towards us. Him!
I was seven years old, he was in my class at school and he was beautiful.

As he came closer, I must have gripped my Mom's hand pretty tightly.

Then, with a casual 'hi', he passed us, and I stopped breathing.

"Who's that?" my Mom asked, curious.

Couldn't she tell that he was the most beautiful boy in the world?

"That's him," I explained. "H-Him!" A little boy that in my memory had straight brown hair and laughing brown eyes.

"That little boy?" my Mom asked.

"Yes, he's the one I told you about!"

She laughed. "There's nothing wrong with him, but, I mean, he's nothing special!"

I was horrified. Didn't my Mom see how obviously beautiful he was?

popcorn

My darlings and people who know me, know that I love popcorn!


My love affair with popcorn goes way back, back to when I was absolutely too young to be having love affairs at all.

A few years ago, when I lived in an apartment building in town, my daughters said they could get off the elevator on our floor and before even entering our apartment, they could tell I had made popcorn because they could smell it in the hall!

I remember Saturday nights, before we got old enough to be wanting to go out to the movies or to school-sponsored happenings on Saturday nights, my parents would make popcorn. We had often had company for a big meal at lunch on Saturdays, so for supper, we just snacked on apples and popcorn. And we played board games or card games. I used to love Chinese Checkers the best.

Now this is going back, you know, to before we got a television. You see, it took my Mom a long time to talk my Dad into getting a TV. By the time we got "an idiot box", as my Dad liked to call it, I was twelve years old and they were already making colour TV's.

I must have learned to love popcorn in Africa as a child, but I can't remember that. I do remember that I was allowed to request my favorite foods for my birthday parties, and even though popcorn must have been a bit difficult to get in Finland, we had popcorn. My guests, little Finnish people, were not as impressed with popcorn as I had hoped they would be. I'm willing to bet that like so many things, popcorn is quite common in Finland these days.

To me, it will always be a well-loved treat. Don't tamper with it much...I don't need fancy flavors. Just butter and salt.

old photos

My Mom and Dad, wearing the traditional Ethiopian clothing. We are back in Finland in this photo, in my Aunt Hillka's garden. We kids look as glum as we do because we have been fighting over whose turn it is to play with our second cousin's doll and toy stroller. It's about 1960.

Me and my Mom, all dressed up. This photo must have been taken on the sabbath.

Here I am with the twins, my Mom and an Ethiopian girl. I don't remember anything about the girl. My parents often hired a student, usually a boy, as help. Doubtless the boys were more ambitious to learn western ways. I believe women, being the keepers of family and cultural ties, are less willing to throw the baby out with the bath water and adopt western ways, unless it really, really makes sense to them. They are more likely to see things more globally, intuitively seeing all the consequences.

Here's my family as it was, in Ethiopia, in about 1958, I think. I'm the one shading her eyes from the sun with both hands!

wild geese

Sometimes, I Am Startled Out Of Myself,

like this morning, when the wild geese came squawking,
flapping their rusty hinges, and something about
their trek across the sky made me think about my life, the places of
brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief has strung me out
to dry. And then the geese come calling, the leader falling back when tired,
another taking her place. Hope is borne on wings. Look at the trees.
They turn to gold for a brief while, then lose it all each November.
Through the cold months, they stand, take the worst weather has to offer.
And still, they put out shy green leaves come April, come May.
The geese glide over the cornfields, land on the pond with its sedges and reeds.
You do not have to be wise. Even a goose knows how to find shelter,
where the corn still lies in the stubble and dried stalks. All we do is pass
through here, the best way we can. They stitch up the sky,
and it is whole again. --Barbara Crooker

contemplation

The secret of life is to have a task, something you devote your entire life to, something you bring everything to, every minute of the day for the rest of your life. And the most important thing is, it must be something you cannot possibly do. --Henry Moore


space aliens have landed on the back deck

Art is contemplation. It is the pleasure of the mind which searches into nature and which there divines the spirit of which nature herself is animated. --Auguste Rodin

the view out my kitchen window towards the east, out the laneway

The mysteries of faith are degraded if they are made into an object of affirmation and negation, when in reality they should be an object of contemplation. --Simone Weil

the view out my office/studio window at sunset this afternoon

Emily & St. Francis

"To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else." --Emily Dickinson

Via The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor (American Public Media), I read an interesting short bio of Emily Dickinson. Something that struck me was that there should be some reason that Emily "withdrew" from the world, not that she didn't continue to interact with the world in ways that she chose.

There are so many "shoulds" in our world. I think it is wonderful that Emily, within the constraints she had to accept, (for example, living in her parents' home, financially dependent on them, keeping house for them) still conducted her life as she chose fit, as much as she was able.

This is the most amazing thing, actually. If a man, for example, chooses to withdraw from the world, well, he's a recluse, a hermit, a monk, someone who has chosen the contemplative life for positive, proactive reasons. He's a Thoreau. But when a woman does it, who by definition is supposed to live her life intertwined with and through or around her family and community, well!! She's Emily Dickinson, who must have had an affair, been jilted by a lover...some tragedy. She must have, we just haven't found out exactly what...God forbid she should live a life outside her family and community! If that is what she somehow manages to do, then she must have done it for negative & reactive reasons. Surely, she wouldn't choose such a life! It goes against nature! (sarcasm intended!!)

OK. Now that I've gotten that off my chest....!

I often scold myself with "shoulds". A wise therapist once asked me, "Do you really want to entertain more, be with people more? Who in your head is actually saying you should entertain more?" I had been complaining that I was not entertaining as much as I thought I should. I somehow thought I should have people over or something at least once a week. Never mind that I was seeing people all week long in my paying job--lots and lots of people, and that maybe, my time off I would enjoy more alone! I realized that it was my busy, busy ego, worrying about everything again, making sure I stayed on the straight and narrow--whatever that is. What I, deep down, really wanted to do had nothing to do with entertaining people. At that point, it was more like curl up with a big feather quilt and a good book by a comforting fire.

Even now, I sometimes have to take a deep breath, take another moment to listen to myself, try to hear my deep self, not just my ego, to figure out what I really want. Sometimes, what I really need to do is to lie in bed, daydream, snooze, and daydream some more. At other times, it is most satisfying to do some vigorous physical tasks, work in the garden, for example, or clearing up my studio/work room. And sometimes, it is being with the people I love, talking, laughing. It is when I do what feels really right for my deep self in that moment, that I feel most exhilarated--no matter what it is.

A clear night sky and a little instruction allows anyone to soar
in mind and
imagination to the farthest reaches of an enormous universe in
which we are but
a speck. And there is nothing more exhilarating and
humbling than that.-- Brian Greene

I have been a fan of Thomas Moore for many years. Here at Resurgence, read his article on Silence.

A bit of relifef from the "shoulds" of Christmas shopping comes in the form of the Reverend Billy
of the Church of Stop Shopping. Just stop and think:

"Not-buying is a brave thing to do. At first it may induce vertigo, identity
weirdness, and a desire for an unwanted pregnancy. But most often a new believer
will have an abnormal kitsch-acquisition fit. The first response to the break in
buying may be a huge sucking sound in your hands - you want to buy something,
anything…
When you lift your hand from the product and back away from it, a
bright, unclaimed space opens up. Consumers think it is a vacuum. It is really
only the unknown.
In the Church of Stop Shopping we believe that buying is
not nearly as interesting as not-buying. When you back away from the purchase,
the product may look up at you with wanton eyes, but it will slump quickly back
onto the shelf and sit there trying to get a life. The product needs you more
than you need it - remember that."--

Bill Palen, aka Reverend Billy
Read more about buying nothing in this article at Resurgence.

The simple paintings featured in this article on St. Francis, startled me with their naive beauty. Perhaps, if I was a Catholic, I would pray to St. Francis. Odd, that over and over again, my thoughts have returned to St. Francis--ever since Sunday's CBC program on Tuscany. So I visited the site of the Franciscan Friars here. Take some time to linger here. I guarantee you, even though your background might be adamantly Protestant, like mine, and even though you call the divine by other names, as I, a born-again-pagan do, you will be moved by the beautiful prayers and meditations offered on the Franciscans site.

St. Francis and the turtle doves, from Francis of Assisi: Paintings for Our Time, by Greg Tricker

St. Francis and Brother Fish, from Francis of Assisi: Paintings for Our Time, by Greg Tricker
Francis of Assisi is published by Green Books at £25 (hardback), with over sixty colour plates. For further information, tel: +44 (0)1803 863260. www.greenbooks.co.uk

moonlit snow

It's amazing. Even with moonlight so bright it casts a shadow on the snow, here, without the light polution of cities, stars are visible in the billions! Sadly, I can only identify such things as the Big Dipper, Orion and the Pleiades.

A couple of days ago, on our afternoon walk around the meadows, the dogs and I found that hollow tree occupied with porcupines, at least two of them! Big surprise. I mentioned droppings before that I could not identify--not raccoon, not rabbit. Now we know. I got a good look, too, of the porcupines....no, didn't have the camera with me. That should be a lesson!

And tracks. What looked to me like the tracks of big dogs crisscross the meadows. Hmmm. Wolves? Coyotes? And I've seen deer tracks in the yard and laneway. But I've seen no wolves, coyotes or deer, yet.

kalevala & berbere

It must be because of the season, but I do find myself returning to things that remind me of my roots at this time of year. I admit that my "roots" , as I feel them, may seem bizarre, the Finnish heritage of my parents' lineage, but also a longing to know more about the Africa of my childhood (memories redolent with spice, smells, flavours, colours and noises).

A recent CBC radio interview about a woman who lives part of the year in Tuscany, made me realize that "roots" often has so much more to it than simply one's own blood lines. "Roots" also involves our collective history, which we eat and live and breathe without being aware of it. So, it would be natural for me to enjoy Frances Mayes' Under the Tuscan Sun and Bella Tuscany as much as I did.

I want to share these roots and the sensory richness with the Granddaughter, someday. She already has a book or two of beautifully illustrated Finnish folktales. When I get a chance, I'll put them in a future post.

Let's start with Kalevala. At the Finnish Literature Society, we can find a kind of dry, academic description of Kalevala, but from there, I linked to A Europe of Tales. I found the Finnish section there delightful! (kids of all ages will enjoy this one)

Many years ago, when I first read Tolkien, I wondered at how familiar his invented language seemed to me. Here's why.

The Lord of the Rings was filmed mostly in New Zealand. I searched and searched, but I seem to have lost the photos my sister sent of Nephew at site of filming from their trip this past July.

An artist born in Finland, who now resides in New Zealand, creates work like this.

But back to Kalevala. One of the most famous Finnish artists to use Kalevala as his inspiration is Akseli Gallan-Kallela. Here are some images of paintings by Akseli Gallen-Kallela and here is the site of the museum/home at Tarvaspaa. And here is an index/gallery of the whole body of Gallen-Kallela's work.

Of course, Jean Sibelius and others were also inspirired by Kalevala. Examples of Sibelius' work based on Kalevala, could include: Kullervo, a Symphonic Poem for Soprano, Baritone, Male Chorus and Orchestra, Op.7 (reviewed here in a madcap, passionate style by The Flying Inkpot), Luonnotar, op.70, The Swan of Tuonela and Lemminkäinen's Return from Four Legends, op.22 . As far as nationalistic anthems go, Finlandia's hymn (Finlandia, op.26) in the middle, always brings me to tears.

Again, in true story-telling fashion, many years ago: I had to learn Finlandia for a piano recital...the brass and crashing drum-roll bits as interpreted in this piano-arrangment, were incredibly difficult for me, but impressed most of the fond parents in our audience. I still have my well-worn copy of it somewhere, let...me...see....hmmmnn..where could it be? Of course, I have several versions of the hymn...

When I lived in Finland for those few years as a child, I was somewhat "a-cultured"(ok, not in any deep anthropological/sociological sense!), but aware that I had been thrown into the middle of a culture that I did not know, where I often stuck out like a sore thumb. For example, on the day our school made its obligatory Christmas-time trip to Johanneksen Kirkko in Helsinki, it seemed to me that nobody else felt as awed and confused as I did. Maybe all the other kids didn't actually understand the order of the service, maybe all the other kids hadn't seen the stained glass windows before, maybe all the other kids didn't know the hymns and carols, but I was sure I was the only one who didn't. After all, my teachers had expressed shock often enough in the past, about how lacking I was in knowledge of Finnnish folktales and ways!

(And here comes the African segue-way) The last summer we lived in Finland, I often played in the park surrounding Johanneksen Kirkko. Here is where I remember my first encounter with a Disney-esque caricature of other cultures.

There was a cheap plastic black baby doll available in Finland at the time, pretty much naked except for hoop earrings in its ears. The acknowledged playground bully-girl one day was wearing the toy hoop earrings in her own ears, having pulled the maleable metal hoops apart, off the doll, and squeezed them onto her earlobes as if her ears were pierced. When I called her on it (what was my issue, anyway???), she told a fantastic story of an actual African girl staying at her house, right this very minute. Well, we couldn't see her right now, because she had had a long trip, travelling all the way from Africa and all, so she was sleeping. And, in Africa, she slept in a tree with her pet snake wrapped around her to keep her from falling, and her pet lion at her feet...

This sounded an awful lot more like fiction than fact even to me, a child who had to sneak into the local public library to get my hands on fairy tales, etc., having a father who totally disapproved of myths and fairy tales. And then, my memories of actual Africa were very different. And here is where I realized that my reality vs her fiction would not win the playground battles for dominance that day. Fiction can be so much more fun to believe, even though most of the kids that day did walk away saying disbelieving things like "yeah, I'm so-o-o sure" (in Finnish, of course).

Besides hyenas and parasites and flies, my only memory of animals inEthiopia was of donkeys.

Photo credit: Intertnational Telecommunications Union
Donkeys were then, and still appear to be the universal mode of transport: for men and stuff-- rarely for women, who walk!

Photo credit: Ethiopian Airlines

Photo credit: WHO/P. Virot
Not only do women walk, they walk miles to get water or wood. Then they walk miles carrying that wood or water home on their backs.

Ethiopia may be a very poor country that most westerners hear of only in terms of war and famine. However, it is immensely rich in history and culture. Several of its holy sites are on UNESCO's list of world heritage sites. Check it out. Ethiopia also appears on Martin Gray's list of Sacred Sites: Places of Peace and Power.

I see images of Ethiopia and my mouth starts to water as I remember the Food. . I haven't mentioned the food! Edible Tulip talks about spices available in Toronto. Field trip, anyone?

Toronto Life reviews of African restaurants, including the Addis Ababa, Ethiopian House and the Queen of Sheba. I've actually visited 2 out of the 3!

Boujadi, in the African listing of Toronto restaurans, is billed as Toronto's finest Moroccan restaurant. A number of years ago now, my best friend Fiona and I studied traditional Middle Eastern Dance (belly dancing), with the wife of Boujadi's owner/chef.

My favorite meal of the week in the cafeteria, when I spent a year studying in France, was the Thursday night meal of a spicy vegetarian stew over a fluffy mound of couscous. Thursday nights, the cafeteria was always full to capacity. And I've never been to either the Boujadi or Morrocco. Sad.

Weird smattering of memories, wha'?

'tis the season

Odd as it seems, I am also susceptible to the energy that appears around the season. Although I have long ago rejected the bogus Jesus stuff-feeling that it is derived and contrived to the point that I'm better off composing my own holiday-I still respond to the energy.

I want to get together with those I love the dearest and share good food and good times. I want to find special ways to surprise them, hopefully with gifts that mean something. I want to unite with other like-minded people to pray for real peace on earth and good will. Imagine a world that is peaceful...hard to do, right?

This is why a solstice-time thoughts of peace one appeal to me.

"We who work for peace must not falter. We must continue to pray for peace
and to act for peace in whatever way we can, we must continue to speak for peace
and to live the way of peace; to inspire others, we must continue to think of
peace and to know that peace is possible."
Peace Pilgrim

Join me in this worldwide Peace Experiment!

my life, the movie

The Movie Of Your Life Is An Indie Flick

You do things your own way - and it's made for colorful times.Your life hasn't turned out how anyone expected, thank goodness! Your best movie matches: Clerks, Garden State, Napoleon Dynamite

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

listening

Quote of the day
If the person you are talking to doesn't appear to be listening, be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear.--Winnie the Pooh

winter light

The winter sun lies low in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow, even at midday, in this part of the world. The days are short and getting shorter still. Winter solstice is approaching. After Dec 21 or 22, or so, we can expect the days to get longer again.

Although it is cold, as the sun swings around to the west, low in the sky, the light appears warm, almost orange and sunsets have been spectacular.

As Christmas approaches, I have dug out some of my traditional music and played some of that stuff today on the piano: folk songs, Jean Sibelius, Oscar Merikanto, Leevi Madetoja, Otto Kotilainen, P.J.Hannikainen, Martti Turunen, etc. When I play, I do sing, but I have to imagine what it might sound like if someone who can actually sing were singing along...

And now for something silly and fun:

You are a Rose:
You are creative, sensual, passionate, and bold.
You pour your heart into everything that you
do. Alluring and gifted with strong sex appeal,
you very easily draw people in with your animal
magnetism.
Symbolsim: The rose has always been a flower
heavily loaded with symbolism. In general it
symbolizes desire, passion, beauty, and
enchantment.

Which Flower are You?
brought to you by Quizzilla

pilgrimage

I was just listening to a beautiful CD entitled The Prayer Cycle. For some reason, maybe because I also heard an interview with someone who arranges pilgrimages to Italy on CBC radio yesterday, I have started considering a how and where to make a pilgrimage. No, I don't have a particular holy place in mind, nor a saint. But it's almost as if I have a task to do before I can go on to the next step on my spiritual path.

It seems traditional that pilgrimage involves walking and sleeping out under the stars. And it seems the tradition is found in cultures as diverse as India, Europe, Japan...

I tried to locate sacred places near me:
Sanctuaire Notre-Dame du Cap, Trois Rivieres, Quebec.

Sanctuaire de Ste.-Anne-de-Beaupre about 30 miles east of Quebec city.

Lac Ste. Anne in Alberta has been a sacred place for native people for more than 1,000 years and purports to have healing waters.

...Oops. I did say near me. Those places above won't do! I was thinking more of a weekend trip, within driving distance, say in Ontario.

The Martyrs Shrine in Midland, Ontario is not too far away.

Serpent Mounds Park on Rice Lake, owned and managed by the Hiawatha First Nation, contains nine burial mounds, including one that's serpent-shaped. They are believed to have been begun around 128 AD and were built up over 150 years. The mounds overlook the magnificent marsh and wildlife-filled waters of Rice Lake.

Not far from Serpent Mounds, deep within a forest northeast of Peterborough, is the compelling Petroglyphs Provincial Park, where Canada's largest known concentration of aboriginal rock carvings is found. Chiselled into the a marble rock face hundreds of years ago, some 900 petroglyphs depict turtles, snakes, birds and humans.

On a farm near Burk's Falls, Ont., Peter Camani has constructed more than a hundred “screaming head” sculptures, each one 20 feet in height. Camani says he built his otherworldly creations as a warning about environmental degradation.

At the Greensides farm in Marmora, Mary appears to Dory Tan.

And how to visit a sacred site?

Is this a quote from Ghandi? Can anybody tell me?
"Hatred does not cease by hatred. Hatred ceases only by love."