After spending what was a productive afternoon writing, I decided that I was both ready for some movement and fresh air. It so happened that the afternoon offered a sunny respite from what had been two days of nearly none stop rain (and accompanying high winds). The weather had been conducive to hunkering down to read some good books and to continue the process of what I hope, will yield a good book of my own creation.
It was a gorgeous early autumn afternoon, the sunlight was providing a warm glow to the seasonal decor upon the trees lining the streets. The roadways and sidewalks were also littered with the aftermath of the stormy weather.
The fifteen minute walk to the municipal golf course was the perfect warm up - now that I had arrived at the perimeter chip-trail I was prepared for a light run. The view that welcomed me was particularly stunning. The still wet slopes of the fairway shimmered in the sunlight. The grass, was now so green the vitality was palpable. Even before my cadence increased, a conversation, an exchange of life force began and I already began to feel my own energy level rising.
I made my way along the trail taking in the sights of the adjacent gardens now beginning to dress down after a dazzling parade of summer finery. As is frequently the case, my epic natural world runs are sound-tracked by random music from my iPod. The arbitrary selection of music perhaps more so confirmed, as the "seasonally inappropriate" "Auld Lang Syne" commences, beginning with a single violin playing the melody, soon accompanied by a full wind and brass section, culminating in the full military band treatment as it is rounded out with bagpipes and snare drums.
The song reaches deep inside my soul and wrings forth emotion which both takes me by surprise and is particularly inconvenient, as I'm not entirely sure whether I'm prepared to share this experience with others on the trail.
I grew up listening to military band music - my dad was a musician in the Naden band. When younger, I had been to innumerable concerts, parades, "sunset ceremonies" and a large military "Tattoo" held in Victoria back in 1967. I suppose to this day I am conflicted by my identifying with peace and the pursuit of such practices as "Non-violent Communications" and some deep connection with the music of the military (which on other levels represents war, conflict and strife in the world to me). On the one hand the precision, order and pageantry is alluring, conversely, I am enraged when I think of the control, loss of autonomy and hiearchy.
I have always particularly enjoyed the Scottish pipe bands - without ever knowing why. After all I was born and raised in Victoria, Canada (albeit adopted and for years disconnected, in terms of my ancestry), but there seemed to be no "reason" for an affinity for this music.
In more recent history I have come to know that my "biological father" was of Irish ancestry. Maybe all these years the "Celt" in my soul was awakened by the call of the pipes. (As in: "Hark, hark, the night is falling Hear, hear the pipes are calling") I remember singing that as a kid - I don't even remember where I got wind of the lyrics). Yes, I realize that's "Scotland the Brave" - still I'm sure far enough back into Celtic history, there would be a connection (if nowhere else I'm telling ya, it's in my DNA!)
Carrying on with my run, the haunting refrain of the pipes continuing to stir my emotions, I come around the corner of the trail and the view stops me in my tracks. One of the staples of my journey around that course, an elder in the Garry Oak community, is lying across the fairway. I had known it had been "windy" over that past couple days - but I had no idea the winds were of this magnitude!
This was no sapling - and yet there it lay, no longer the sentinel for that quadrant of the trail. A quick assessment allowed me to conclude that it had been laying across the trail, as now portions of its severed canopy lay in the brambles on one side - while the behemoth bulk, of it remaining lifeless form lay on the other. I approached closer and examined the gaping maw torn in the fairway which once was the shaded base of it's towering presence. It appears the whole trunk of the tree was rotten which likely means in relative terms, it was felled "easily" though of course it was still subject to a formidable force.
I was saddened at the sight (and loss) of this gentle giant - some of the highlights of my travel around the course are the greetings given and received by the "tree spirits"- which delineate and offer passage through the various worlds, through which the trail travels.
The oak tree figure prominently in the nature based spirituality of my ancestors - I spent considerable time as a boy in the canopy of the Garry oak in the front yard of my home. A line from "Auld Lang Syne" stirs in my memory: "We'll drink a cup of kindness yet for Auld Lang Syne." (which a "Google search" informs me translates to) "FOR TIMES GONE BY."
As I consider this - I can't say that I have absolute clarity - but I do have a sense of the "finger pointing at the moon."
It's an inconvenient truth that I am moved to tears at a public venue for seemingly no reason. It's an inconvenient truth that within my heart, I have held both love and contempt for my father (as a boy growing up). It's certainly the height of inconvenience that I have rebelled against order, discipline, precision and railed against the military, citing them as being responsible for the violence and oppression in the world, rather than examine my own heart. I even find myself in a quandary as I sit at one of the remaining vestiges from my marriage, an oak dining room table and chairs (a wedding gift from my parents) and wonder how I reconcile my love of nature - reverence for the oaks and yet another inconvenient truth, that one was felled intentionally, in order to fabricate my table.
I don't believe in coincidence - though the elements of my tale cross multiple cultures, points in history, philosophies and even dimensions, they all converge in my heart - indeed the "Pipes are calling" they are calling across time and space, they are calling for truth and reconciliation - to usher in a lasting peace. They are inviting an end to my heart as a battlefield - waging war on illusory enemies - harbouring conflicts and resentments.
I hear the pipes cry carried upon the wind - "the mighty oak" stood against and was felled, your heart was meant to carry the song of love, not a battle cry - lay down your weapons, the war is over!"
"LEST YE PREFER ANOTHER ROUND OF - FOR TIMES GONE BY!"
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