I wasn't sure what I was going to write about - which isn't necessarily in and of itself a profoundly unique reality when I square myself with the blank blog template. I indulged a brief foray into the black-hole of facebook and saw a post that "lit my fuse." Apparently Wayne Gretzky has let it be known he supports a continuance of Stephen Harper as the Prime Minister of Canada.
It's possible that the sum total of what I write from this point forward could be summed up with "So What!?" So I could either make this the shortest blog post I've ever conceived or flush out somewhat my unsolicited and un-comissioned albeit succinct editorial.
This is not to be a damning litany on the career, character or politics of Stephen Harper - by now, too cliche. It is also not my intention to cast doubt on the sophistication of the "electorate," the citizens of Canada. I certainly have concerns about a "system" that made it possible for the Conservatives to go from the first mandate as a minority to "winning" a "majority" for a second mandate and the on-going ability of the media to manipulate the truth and in doing so impact "public opinion." Clearly I don't have the monopoly on the truth and I don't spend endless hours listening to the "political pundits" - representatives from the various "think-tanks" or even watching the "debates" (truly what can be determined from a series of sound bite responses filled with pre-written "talking points" that are super-imposed upon a variety of questions and issues whether they directly relate to the question or ever provide an answer. Personally I don't give a shit how well someone articulates their answer, if it evades the matter raised in the question or diminishes the concern of those that asked it. Add to that the disallowing of participation by leaders of parties not portrayed in that same media as being viable options and the whole thing smacks of further manipulation.
Enter Mr. Gretzky! Given the widespread identification of so many Canadians with hockey needless to say he is afforded a coveted place in the folk-lore that comprises "our" national discourse. My question is WHY? Clearly was something a kin to a prodigy within the game of hockey (which then elevates him as is typical of "our" culture to celebrity status). Now I fully acknowledge that a significant focus, time, energy and dedication are required to go from the frozen ponds in the neighborhood to be selected in the professional ranks and then to have a career that stands out so significantly from those that comprise the crème de la crème. Many try and fall by the wayside. Of course it is argued that the sheer size of the current league means the entry requirement has been watered down just to get enough players to fill out the rosters. Not a reflection on Gretzky - just an aside. I also recognize that I've already committed the ultimate sacrilege in that I am desecrating the all Canadian sacred cow on multiple levels - it matters not. To be fair the a fore mention dedication etc. is nothing short of heroic, however I submit as one of any number of possible examples of heroism virtually any member of John/Jane Q. Public and what they face in their daily lives - be it currently or for years longstanding. Take some time to listen long enough to pretty much anyone and you will have right there in your midst a bona fide hero! So why - why - why is someone that attained great heights at a game given more credibility to "endorse" a political candidate than anyone else?
Now I will acknowledge that Wayne Gretzky is not just a former hockey player no more than I'm just anything specific to a thumb-nail view of any particular segment of my life, who now spews upon the written page - still for me the unsettling thing about this media contrived influence, is that a world that is nothing more than entertainment and artistic expression often portrayed within a container of fabrication, produces "celebrities" that have undo influence on the world stage. Which is more true, do we watch "Fantasy Island" or do we live on it? It seems to me the veil is thinning between the world of entertainment and the "real world." In our lifetime we have seen cowboy western actors hoisted to the white house, professional wrestlers and body-builders - become governors, WTF? Before you go sideways wrapped in Maple Leaf nationalism and chime in with, "ya well that's the U.S.A couldn't happen here!" What do you call former athletes cum "national institutions" asserting their considerable influence on our "democratic" process - I know, I know, now it could be said I'm drinking the same Kool-aid I am espousing to illuminate to suggest there is a reality where true democracy exists.
Of course so far my writing and perspectives haven't reached such proportions that they pose any significant impact on the multi-media/corporate/political/entertainment/military/industrial complex - but when and if they do, I might be then penning my memoirs from with the Conservative party's equivalent to Stalag 13 - "Hogan's Heroes" that was real right?
Saturday, 19 September 2015
Monday, 7 September 2015
All This Suffering is Insufferable!
Right of the gate I'm just going to come out and say - many people will fight to the death for their suffering. I ought to know, in the "war on peace" I have been an ardent mercenary. Of course I refer to "my peace" - inner peace. What have I accepted over a lifetime as the currency of exchange for this peace? It quite possibly would be a shorter list to innumerate what I haven't accepted. Certainly a wide variety of self-deception, which, one doesn't have to go very far from home to find commiseration with. If that is what you are looking for it might only cost you the time required to hear your listeners story in kind - which will typically begin with "ah shit that's nothing, wait until you hear what happened to me." A round of that and before long, both can conclude there is no end to suffering - "and that's the way it is!"
Before coming to the coffee shop to write - I was briefly at the harbour in downtown Victoria the annual Labour Day weekend "Blues Bash" was on. During the day all the performances are free - I like live music every now and then, a good easy on the budget (if I had a budget, but that's another story) fun way to spend the afternoon - except it wasn't. I absolutely appreciate the musicianship and there is something about that drum kit and and bass laying down the beat that gets my blood stirring - especially on a live outdoor stage where they can bring it home at warp nine! A tight sound and stratocaster strings being caressed at times other times twisted into orbit, what's not to love? Well - except the genre in and of itself is soaked in the energy of suffering. Even when the lead singer is laying claim to original material, I suppose in order to be "true" to the form, the requisite lyrics must hover in the realm of heartbreak and for some variance a side of debauchery. It's not as though I haven't spent my share of time listening to, supporting the arts through cd purchases and listening to the electrified strains as an endless anthem to uphold my own tragic myopia - but right here, right now I wonder when did this form of painful expression become "entertainment" and shouldn't there be some sort of statute of limitations on my laying claim to the state of my mental/emotional/spiritual wellness being based on "my baby" and her decision to beat a path to somebody else's front door. On that note the whole matter could be addressed by being clear, that my happiness was never determined by "my baby" nor hers dependent on me.
I realize I have now taken this whole conversation into radical waters, just the same, I don't happen to believe anymore that ongoing suffering is required. There are plenty of existing pathways that elucidate the power of mindset to influence world view, so I don't need to further try and make a case for the truth (or at least the existence of the possibility it could be true). I stood in front of the stage for a while and listened to four or five songs and I was done. There was no shade - the only place to sit was in the direct sun or the "beer gardens." I wandered through the "merchandise" tents where they were hawking over-priced shirts and food that was in my estimation, guaranteed to give you something to be blue about, devoid of any nutrition, each char-broiled calorie poised to reek havoc on one's cellular village and unleash another spree of gastro-cidal suffering. My solution to this seemingly innocuous situation - leave. This might seem self-evident - but I considered the power of story to run interference with what otherwise might occur as a simple solution. If I had engaged with this same situation at other times in my life there could be any number of story lines that would have me remain there - even though I wasn't enjoying myself. "I came all the way down here - this is my day off and I've earned the right to PARTY" "I can't leave early - what will everyone think?" "What if I miss something (seriously what could I possibly think I might miss?) The point is there are no end of story lines to uphold the collective and individual suffering many of which perpetuate far graver situations than overheating at a crowded loud outdoor music venue. My experience is starting to demonstrate that there might well be innate discomfort in some situations, however it is my choice to avoid the necessary steps to bring about the changes that would end the suffering.
All due respect for grieving processes and the unique divine timing and soul journey of each individual - and I can assure you, I'm not advocating the repression of feelings. I'm expressing as one who wishes to disengage from identifying myself and wearing as a badge of honour, my suffering. I don't wish to diminish the pain of others or their right to choose continued suffering. It was however drawn to my attention that as a writer or an artist that what I express would be brought into question, that I would be seen as less than trust worthy if I didn't express authentically. It seems to me that authentically was being presented synonymously with one who continues to suffer. To this I say bullshit!
I envision a world without suffering - it doesn't mean I will see it universally in my life time, but I'm not going to abandon this vision for the sake of conforming to some stereo-type mindset that as a writer and artist I must suffer endlessly "for my art" or that my truth is any less authentic because I don't endlessly express as the walking wounded or from within paradigms that though they wax eloquently, continue to reflect a "love" that is codependent which makes is something entirely different.
I seek a pathway for myself that is significant, in it's freedom from suffering - I happen to know that certainly involves the dismantling of many stories that continue to stoke the fires of suffering. I wish to be a stand for and an example of, an end to suffering - this is the "change I wish to see in the world." It is no secret that those in the world that "inflict" suffering are at their core, suffering themselves - this seems to me ample motivation to collectively create different social and societal agreements. It seems to me there is no variety of human suffering that someone hasn't demonstrated the ability to overcome and transform - often themselves becoming a powerful force for change. These people might well be unique in their choice to do so - but I don't believe they have the monopoly on the inner resources to transform, they serve to show what is possible.
I may have threads of stories that will need to be released in order to realize the inner peace I seek - but I fully intent to write and to express transformation as an art form. I will acknowledge that any given emotion or combination in the spectrum, can certainly be artfully expressed - shades on the palette as it were. I would also submit that a soul that continually seeks connection to it's source, will discover while they might currently be tuned into the blues channel, they can also change the station.
Before coming to the coffee shop to write - I was briefly at the harbour in downtown Victoria the annual Labour Day weekend "Blues Bash" was on. During the day all the performances are free - I like live music every now and then, a good easy on the budget (if I had a budget, but that's another story) fun way to spend the afternoon - except it wasn't. I absolutely appreciate the musicianship and there is something about that drum kit and and bass laying down the beat that gets my blood stirring - especially on a live outdoor stage where they can bring it home at warp nine! A tight sound and stratocaster strings being caressed at times other times twisted into orbit, what's not to love? Well - except the genre in and of itself is soaked in the energy of suffering. Even when the lead singer is laying claim to original material, I suppose in order to be "true" to the form, the requisite lyrics must hover in the realm of heartbreak and for some variance a side of debauchery. It's not as though I haven't spent my share of time listening to, supporting the arts through cd purchases and listening to the electrified strains as an endless anthem to uphold my own tragic myopia - but right here, right now I wonder when did this form of painful expression become "entertainment" and shouldn't there be some sort of statute of limitations on my laying claim to the state of my mental/emotional/spiritual wellness being based on "my baby" and her decision to beat a path to somebody else's front door. On that note the whole matter could be addressed by being clear, that my happiness was never determined by "my baby" nor hers dependent on me.
I realize I have now taken this whole conversation into radical waters, just the same, I don't happen to believe anymore that ongoing suffering is required. There are plenty of existing pathways that elucidate the power of mindset to influence world view, so I don't need to further try and make a case for the truth (or at least the existence of the possibility it could be true). I stood in front of the stage for a while and listened to four or five songs and I was done. There was no shade - the only place to sit was in the direct sun or the "beer gardens." I wandered through the "merchandise" tents where they were hawking over-priced shirts and food that was in my estimation, guaranteed to give you something to be blue about, devoid of any nutrition, each char-broiled calorie poised to reek havoc on one's cellular village and unleash another spree of gastro-cidal suffering. My solution to this seemingly innocuous situation - leave. This might seem self-evident - but I considered the power of story to run interference with what otherwise might occur as a simple solution. If I had engaged with this same situation at other times in my life there could be any number of story lines that would have me remain there - even though I wasn't enjoying myself. "I came all the way down here - this is my day off and I've earned the right to PARTY" "I can't leave early - what will everyone think?" "What if I miss something (seriously what could I possibly think I might miss?) The point is there are no end of story lines to uphold the collective and individual suffering many of which perpetuate far graver situations than overheating at a crowded loud outdoor music venue. My experience is starting to demonstrate that there might well be innate discomfort in some situations, however it is my choice to avoid the necessary steps to bring about the changes that would end the suffering.
All due respect for grieving processes and the unique divine timing and soul journey of each individual - and I can assure you, I'm not advocating the repression of feelings. I'm expressing as one who wishes to disengage from identifying myself and wearing as a badge of honour, my suffering. I don't wish to diminish the pain of others or their right to choose continued suffering. It was however drawn to my attention that as a writer or an artist that what I express would be brought into question, that I would be seen as less than trust worthy if I didn't express authentically. It seems to me that authentically was being presented synonymously with one who continues to suffer. To this I say bullshit!
I envision a world without suffering - it doesn't mean I will see it universally in my life time, but I'm not going to abandon this vision for the sake of conforming to some stereo-type mindset that as a writer and artist I must suffer endlessly "for my art" or that my truth is any less authentic because I don't endlessly express as the walking wounded or from within paradigms that though they wax eloquently, continue to reflect a "love" that is codependent which makes is something entirely different.
I seek a pathway for myself that is significant, in it's freedom from suffering - I happen to know that certainly involves the dismantling of many stories that continue to stoke the fires of suffering. I wish to be a stand for and an example of, an end to suffering - this is the "change I wish to see in the world." It is no secret that those in the world that "inflict" suffering are at their core, suffering themselves - this seems to me ample motivation to collectively create different social and societal agreements. It seems to me there is no variety of human suffering that someone hasn't demonstrated the ability to overcome and transform - often themselves becoming a powerful force for change. These people might well be unique in their choice to do so - but I don't believe they have the monopoly on the inner resources to transform, they serve to show what is possible.
I may have threads of stories that will need to be released in order to realize the inner peace I seek - but I fully intent to write and to express transformation as an art form. I will acknowledge that any given emotion or combination in the spectrum, can certainly be artfully expressed - shades on the palette as it were. I would also submit that a soul that continually seeks connection to it's source, will discover while they might currently be tuned into the blues channel, they can also change the station.
Monday, 31 August 2015
In Celebration - Wayne Dyer, "From Here to Eternity."
My intention on this occasion is to pay homage to a man, his teaching and presence in my life. Even though I never met him personally, this is a relationship that has outlived innumerable "real-time" connections - as I say that it raises the question for me, as to the nature of "relating" and whether it can only occur in physical proximity with they, with which, one relates.
Before I go any further - I speak of Wayne Dyer.
Over twenty-eights years ago I began what one might deem a more active quest regarding Spirituality first through the tenets of the "Twelve Steps." It of course could be said I began when I made my debut through the birth canal - some would say even before that. It wouldn't be long before what seemed to be a fair degree of license regarding the definition of "this God" was frequently reduced by many in attendance that continued pushing for one that was not far removed from the partriarchal rep from the "old testament," And even though in some cases, they indicated he could be good humoured - still when it came to smiting - "he" did so because "he" loved you, it was necessary and certainly you had it coming. I took full license with the "God as we (I) understood it...... consequently as there was little understanding at that point at all - my investigation led me to the works of sources outside "the program" this led to my introduction to Wayne Dyer, Dan Millman and Maryanne Williamson.
It would be years reconciling the spirituality spoken about in their work and the religiosity that was part of the imprinting upon me (from a variety of environments - which includes, how it has shaped attitudes and beliefs within our culture and society, even for those that claim no adherence to any variety of a "God.") I originally thought I would have had it all sorted out in relatively short order and then I could get on with my life, in case you hadn't guessed, that vision, has undergone ongoing revision.
I can't say in the moment specifically what I have taken from the vast work and teaching Dr. Dyer made available. I remember he made reference to marketing his books out of the trunk of his car (obviously a reference to his early days of being an author) it inspired me to see realized greatness from humble beginnings. To me he is a "house-hold name" even though occasionally I mention in conversation a reference to him or another author and am surprised to discover no familiarity with the author. Even hearing some form of my explanation as to who he is - for some, via a quick sweeping dismissive statement can just reduce him to "just one of those touchy-feely self-help writers." My impression of him and his work leads me to believe he could allow each to be where they were at so that a position like that would leave him un-scathed - to me he was a shining example and advocate of doing what you loved to do and walking his talk while ignoring the "good opinions," well-meaning intentions or even the venomous diatribe of others.
I feel some sadness to hear of his passing - even though I'm sure that wouldn't be how he would suggest it be seen. It is possible "the loss" brings me more closely in touch with layers of my own grief of various origins. It is a call to action given that somewhere in the study of his work I began to nurse the idea that I might one day be a "spiritual author." I know for sure his work will live on as a form of ongoing inspiration and guidance. In this regard - he has been a significant factor in my incremental reclaiming of myself and a vision of being of service to others.
It was only a couple weeks ago that I scored a used copy of his book - "There is a Spiritual
Solution to Every Problem" It is a book I was inspired to revisit as within, in part, there is featured expanded interpretation (of Dr. Dyer's of course) of the tenets of the "Prayer of St. Francis" That provides me with the teachings of one of my teachers within the work of another. It's possible "Francis" has been influencing me far longer than Dr. Dyer. I neither believe "Catholicism" has the monopoly on Francis or that his messages "died" along with him. On the contrary the words (as expressed through him) are part of a living stream of consciousness and he is no longer confined to the parameters of being an 12 century monk. There is then within these spiritual teaching very pragmatic living instructions. Dr. Dyer has helped me to discover the need to "translate" these principles and give them purpose and meaning in a modern day world.
Wayne Dyer's work has always expanded for me what is possible and called me to continue to seek the absolute best in myself. He has left a volume of work that can be seen as "bread-crumbs through the forest" and I would say reached the point where his "earthly garments' would just hinder his on going progress. Who then am I, to cling to anyone when the time has come for them to move on? My life is unquestionably and irrevocably changed through Dr. Dyer's work. As I eluded to in the opening, there is nothing to stop me from on-going relating - at the same time as I step more deeply into an expanded relating to myself.
Vaya Con Dios my friend!! (as if he needs that direction from me)
Before I go any further - I speak of Wayne Dyer.
Over twenty-eights years ago I began what one might deem a more active quest regarding Spirituality first through the tenets of the "Twelve Steps." It of course could be said I began when I made my debut through the birth canal - some would say even before that. It wouldn't be long before what seemed to be a fair degree of license regarding the definition of "this God" was frequently reduced by many in attendance that continued pushing for one that was not far removed from the partriarchal rep from the "old testament," And even though in some cases, they indicated he could be good humoured - still when it came to smiting - "he" did so because "he" loved you, it was necessary and certainly you had it coming. I took full license with the "God as we (I) understood it...... consequently as there was little understanding at that point at all - my investigation led me to the works of sources outside "the program" this led to my introduction to Wayne Dyer, Dan Millman and Maryanne Williamson.
It would be years reconciling the spirituality spoken about in their work and the religiosity that was part of the imprinting upon me (from a variety of environments - which includes, how it has shaped attitudes and beliefs within our culture and society, even for those that claim no adherence to any variety of a "God.") I originally thought I would have had it all sorted out in relatively short order and then I could get on with my life, in case you hadn't guessed, that vision, has undergone ongoing revision.
I can't say in the moment specifically what I have taken from the vast work and teaching Dr. Dyer made available. I remember he made reference to marketing his books out of the trunk of his car (obviously a reference to his early days of being an author) it inspired me to see realized greatness from humble beginnings. To me he is a "house-hold name" even though occasionally I mention in conversation a reference to him or another author and am surprised to discover no familiarity with the author. Even hearing some form of my explanation as to who he is - for some, via a quick sweeping dismissive statement can just reduce him to "just one of those touchy-feely self-help writers." My impression of him and his work leads me to believe he could allow each to be where they were at so that a position like that would leave him un-scathed - to me he was a shining example and advocate of doing what you loved to do and walking his talk while ignoring the "good opinions," well-meaning intentions or even the venomous diatribe of others.
I feel some sadness to hear of his passing - even though I'm sure that wouldn't be how he would suggest it be seen. It is possible "the loss" brings me more closely in touch with layers of my own grief of various origins. It is a call to action given that somewhere in the study of his work I began to nurse the idea that I might one day be a "spiritual author." I know for sure his work will live on as a form of ongoing inspiration and guidance. In this regard - he has been a significant factor in my incremental reclaiming of myself and a vision of being of service to others.
It was only a couple weeks ago that I scored a used copy of his book - "There is a Spiritual
Solution to Every Problem" It is a book I was inspired to revisit as within, in part, there is featured expanded interpretation (of Dr. Dyer's of course) of the tenets of the "Prayer of St. Francis" That provides me with the teachings of one of my teachers within the work of another. It's possible "Francis" has been influencing me far longer than Dr. Dyer. I neither believe "Catholicism" has the monopoly on Francis or that his messages "died" along with him. On the contrary the words (as expressed through him) are part of a living stream of consciousness and he is no longer confined to the parameters of being an 12 century monk. There is then within these spiritual teaching very pragmatic living instructions. Dr. Dyer has helped me to discover the need to "translate" these principles and give them purpose and meaning in a modern day world.
Wayne Dyer's work has always expanded for me what is possible and called me to continue to seek the absolute best in myself. He has left a volume of work that can be seen as "bread-crumbs through the forest" and I would say reached the point where his "earthly garments' would just hinder his on going progress. Who then am I, to cling to anyone when the time has come for them to move on? My life is unquestionably and irrevocably changed through Dr. Dyer's work. As I eluded to in the opening, there is nothing to stop me from on-going relating - at the same time as I step more deeply into an expanded relating to myself.
Vaya Con Dios my friend!! (as if he needs that direction from me)
Friday, 28 August 2015
Play it Again - Sam!
So today, which as it happens, is the end of the eighth cycle of 7 year blocks (to the day) and as far as I can determine from where I presently sit, the beginning of another one. At the beginning of that odyssey it is popular to coin references to elapsed time in months (up to I believe 24 and then for some reason years become the bench mark. So I opened this piece with a "age" reference that both encapsulated a chronological talisman and a reference to an entirely different measure of existential evolutionary paradigms. Though the latter implies certain "advancement" on a entirely linear schedule I will submit based on my experience, it doesn't necessarily go that way. This should come as no surprise to many (provided they aren't entirely adhered to reduce everything to some sort of specific framework - I believe one form of that is known as "reductionism") maybe I'm missing something, but it seems to me that if one employs a methodology that is tagged thus, that they ought to be open to, if not expecting, something to be missing in the explanation, but then again, maybe I'm over-simplifying.
Between getting to the gym this morning, being there and walking home I was tuned into a playlist of music on my iPod that was appropriately retrospective (which in no way should be taken to mean it was myopically maudlin or lacking in presence or vision). It was a multi-dimensional trek that might well be the envy of a radio station musical director - if indeed one of their "oldies" weekends could be able to conjure such a journey.
In no particular order as the downloading of these songs wasn't accomplished with any preconceived design (well at least none I'm consciously aware of) these track were compiled at "random" times often as my attention was drawn to them. Perhaps it was all in preparation for this very day!
I was moved to tears as I was bathed in the young voice of Michael Jackson singing "Ben" I was close to age of the prodigy at the time of this song's frequent air time - I knew then, intimately the themes of that song. That rat and I were soul mates if not the young Michael's own projections embodied in the song.
My soul danced with delight to "Rock Lobster" and though I have an entirely different place of reference I pondered and honoured what it means to me to worship at the "Love Shack." There was time spent communing with Al Stewart during the "Year of the Cat" - admittedly I still haven't given my undivided attention to the lyrics - somehow the song made the list, so it spoke to me at some level. In general terms, with no intended offense to cat lovers, when isn't it the year of the cat?
I was stirred to depths of my soul listening to various tracks from the soundtrack of the movie "August Rush" for the most diverse of sonically assisted extravagza I favour the overture which is a layered blend of music that invariably conveys to me volumes and invites the full emotional spectrum as it unfolds.
I revisited the delightful harmonies of the Beach Boys which took me to a place in time that embraced their art long before I would ever set foot in "Cal- i- forn - i -a" My "Deuce Coupe" was some sort of Mazda - never did get rubber in all four gears (not for lack of trying) but I certainly destroyed my share of clutches and was involved directly or indirectly with reducing a once sound automobile to scrap iron. I related profoundly to "my room" as that which was a safe haven for my secrets. My current relationship with truth has resulted in my not being as guarded with my secrets, I am I suppose, a story-teller, my canvas the blank screen, my palette, words and life's situations and experiences I simply can't relegate the telling to be strictly in black & white there for a more transparent techni-colour narration. Take it from me you don't even have to get wet to go on Surfin' Sarfari (oh I know, read a book about riding a horse versus riding a horse two vastly different realities) can you or will you entertain that these songs speak to so many realms of being that energetically, it's going on! If you really want to surf - then the option is available! I avow to more "Fun Fun Fun" though I don't feel compelled that it involve a T-Bird. Who knows maybe I'll rent sometime but I don't feel inspired to own one.
I was transported back in time to military "Sunset ceremonies" on the lawns of the Legislature buildings or the parade square at the former Royal Roads military college as I listened to a few selections of music performed by various military bands. My dad was a musician in the Naden band he never encouraged - nor did I ever aspire to follow in his footsteps and join the military however the snare drums which he played and the cadence of the music are indelibly etched upon my heart and apparently remain like cryogenic remains just awaiting to illicit a maelstrom of feelings. Even a rendition of the Canadian national anthem evokes a response that I'm sure is a multi-faceted as any other aspect of the psyche - I certainly don't consider myself a "nationalist" or likely wouldn't be easily contained within the accepted definition of "patriotic," yet there is no denying the response to the music.
The next selections were Scottish regiments performing "Auld Lang Syne" and "Amazing Grace" a totally different energy again featured in the style of snare drum they utilize and the pipes are almost other worldly. Well in fact they do hail from parts of the world and places in history that actually are part of my ancestral lineage, though I have largely been "steeped" in another culture, at another time. It defies logic that I should feel this connection given that there has been virtually no time nurturing it and very little time even having any "knowing" of it - just the same at some level, there is significant recognition - that I appreciate profoundly, within a container of mystification.
More than a "trip down memory lane" this musical saga is a goulash of sensations, awareness and will never again be experienced as it was on this occasion. I mentioned cycles as references to the passage of time - whether these are synonymous with trips around the "medicine wheel" - cycles of karma, rings around the fabled "rosie" I can assure you I've "been around the block" maybe that's what was being referenced in "I Get Around" (i.e. "round round get around.... I get around) and if or until the lyrics become "I Don't Get Round Much Anymore" even the seemingly familiar can be potentially experienced newly.
Between getting to the gym this morning, being there and walking home I was tuned into a playlist of music on my iPod that was appropriately retrospective (which in no way should be taken to mean it was myopically maudlin or lacking in presence or vision). It was a multi-dimensional trek that might well be the envy of a radio station musical director - if indeed one of their "oldies" weekends could be able to conjure such a journey.
In no particular order as the downloading of these songs wasn't accomplished with any preconceived design (well at least none I'm consciously aware of) these track were compiled at "random" times often as my attention was drawn to them. Perhaps it was all in preparation for this very day!
I was moved to tears as I was bathed in the young voice of Michael Jackson singing "Ben" I was close to age of the prodigy at the time of this song's frequent air time - I knew then, intimately the themes of that song. That rat and I were soul mates if not the young Michael's own projections embodied in the song.
My soul danced with delight to "Rock Lobster" and though I have an entirely different place of reference I pondered and honoured what it means to me to worship at the "Love Shack." There was time spent communing with Al Stewart during the "Year of the Cat" - admittedly I still haven't given my undivided attention to the lyrics - somehow the song made the list, so it spoke to me at some level. In general terms, with no intended offense to cat lovers, when isn't it the year of the cat?
I was stirred to depths of my soul listening to various tracks from the soundtrack of the movie "August Rush" for the most diverse of sonically assisted extravagza I favour the overture which is a layered blend of music that invariably conveys to me volumes and invites the full emotional spectrum as it unfolds.
I revisited the delightful harmonies of the Beach Boys which took me to a place in time that embraced their art long before I would ever set foot in "Cal- i- forn - i -a" My "Deuce Coupe" was some sort of Mazda - never did get rubber in all four gears (not for lack of trying) but I certainly destroyed my share of clutches and was involved directly or indirectly with reducing a once sound automobile to scrap iron. I related profoundly to "my room" as that which was a safe haven for my secrets. My current relationship with truth has resulted in my not being as guarded with my secrets, I am I suppose, a story-teller, my canvas the blank screen, my palette, words and life's situations and experiences I simply can't relegate the telling to be strictly in black & white there for a more transparent techni-colour narration. Take it from me you don't even have to get wet to go on Surfin' Sarfari (oh I know, read a book about riding a horse versus riding a horse two vastly different realities) can you or will you entertain that these songs speak to so many realms of being that energetically, it's going on! If you really want to surf - then the option is available! I avow to more "Fun Fun Fun" though I don't feel compelled that it involve a T-Bird. Who knows maybe I'll rent sometime but I don't feel inspired to own one.
I was transported back in time to military "Sunset ceremonies" on the lawns of the Legislature buildings or the parade square at the former Royal Roads military college as I listened to a few selections of music performed by various military bands. My dad was a musician in the Naden band he never encouraged - nor did I ever aspire to follow in his footsteps and join the military however the snare drums which he played and the cadence of the music are indelibly etched upon my heart and apparently remain like cryogenic remains just awaiting to illicit a maelstrom of feelings. Even a rendition of the Canadian national anthem evokes a response that I'm sure is a multi-faceted as any other aspect of the psyche - I certainly don't consider myself a "nationalist" or likely wouldn't be easily contained within the accepted definition of "patriotic," yet there is no denying the response to the music.
The next selections were Scottish regiments performing "Auld Lang Syne" and "Amazing Grace" a totally different energy again featured in the style of snare drum they utilize and the pipes are almost other worldly. Well in fact they do hail from parts of the world and places in history that actually are part of my ancestral lineage, though I have largely been "steeped" in another culture, at another time. It defies logic that I should feel this connection given that there has been virtually no time nurturing it and very little time even having any "knowing" of it - just the same at some level, there is significant recognition - that I appreciate profoundly, within a container of mystification.
More than a "trip down memory lane" this musical saga is a goulash of sensations, awareness and will never again be experienced as it was on this occasion. I mentioned cycles as references to the passage of time - whether these are synonymous with trips around the "medicine wheel" - cycles of karma, rings around the fabled "rosie" I can assure you I've "been around the block" maybe that's what was being referenced in "I Get Around" (i.e. "round round get around.... I get around) and if or until the lyrics become "I Don't Get Round Much Anymore" even the seemingly familiar can be potentially experienced newly.
Thursday, 27 August 2015
Inner Space - "The Final Frontier"
A submission to a 30 day writing challenge I am currently participating in the guideline premise suggestion was an "hourly log" tracking exploration of another planet....... this is where I took it
Ominous clouds formed the back drop of our meeting it was as though the elements, the titans and the gods themselves were to be our witness. The intermittent din of thunder and heavenly electrical pyro-technics added an air of awe and mystique to the gathering.
I sat at the fire with my “guide” and listened as he outlined how I was to proceed if I chose to follow through now that this rendezvous of ours had come to be. I knew very little about this man, he is I’m told, a descendant from a lineage of medicine men, his ancestors have made their home in the Andean mountains of Peru. Beyond that I was told for my purposes I wouldn’t require any further information.
As we sat at the fire I watched as he ground various plants and herbs before adding them to a pot he was steeping over the fire. “What is that you are preparing?” I inquired.
This “tea” once it has reached the desired potency, is to provide the vehicle (if you will) which will enable you to embark on the journey you wish to experience."
“How is that even possible, how can tea take me anywhere?” I probed.
“I doubt very much if the answer would be satisfactory to you, all is not as it appears especially to you have been steeped in the western world with it’s proclivity to worship the mind (logic, rational thought and the world as it is experienced through the 5 basic senses). The properties of these plants when blended in the right proportions is very powerful medicine. It can open portals within time and space, as well as within the individual that uses them which in turn makes possible among other things astral travel.”
“You’re right – even having had it explained, I don’t have a clear understanding to say the least.”
“It is not necessary that you understand the mechanism, what is more important is that you are clear about whether you want to do this or not?” “Ambiguity can lead to some rather undesirable outcomes, there is no dishonour in opting out but once you begin there is no turning back!”
“I’m clear, let’s do this thing!” “How will I know where I am going?”
“Your request was to experience another world – beyond that the process is out of your control, their is an innate intelligence in the medicine which invokes powers that will ascertain exactly where you need to travel.”
“Alright then, I can’t say that leaves me feeling overwhelmingly assured but I’m ready………”
With that the medicine man handed me a cup and instructed me to drink the entire contents as quickly as I could. It was the most vile tasting concoction I had ever ingested (and I have been party to some particularly unique home brew beverages) still none even came close to rancid, earthy, putrid liquid that my wretching body threatened to expel as quickly as I was swallowing it.
As i finished the last of this jungle swill my a vortex twisting from inside myself soon spun any sense of perceptual separation into a maelstrom of colour, temperature and sensation. The fire became the rainfall, the lightning didn’t just cast light, it sent surges of energy through my whole being until I entirely lost awareness of that which previously represented my conscious experience of my surroundings.
To say when I awoke would not be accurate as to the best of my knowledge I wasn’t asleep. However once the intensity subsided the next thing I “saw” certainly left me no doubt I was no longer sitting by the fire (even if I was there was nothing familiar with the landscape that was coming into view now.
Hour 1: All that I can see around me is the hue of red ochre like the dirt on Prince Edward Island. Upon the horizon there are dozens of spires consisting of every imaginable geometric shape similar to those in Bryce Canyon. As I begin to walk around I notice the overall temperature to be warm without being oppressive.
Hour 2: I encounter bubbling pools of what looks somewhat like a entire weekend’s donation to the red cross brought to a slow boil. As I am breathing unhindered I presume the atmosphere to be life sustaining.
Hour 3: After continuous walking it is no longer clear if I have traversed any appreciable distance or I’m back where I started from. Some of the surroundings seem familiar however there is unquestionably new territory as well. Closer observation yields the realization that the pathways around this region are labyrinthine in nature.
Hour 4: I ask to myself (obviously not expecting an answer) “I wonder where it is that I am?” much to my surprise I receive an answer. “You will benefit much more from continual exploration – without the your specific location being revealed.” “Suffice to say – though visually you are being given a particular presentation, in truth this is entirely for your benefit.” " The “terrain” is being projected in a fashion that you are able to relate to."
Hour 5: Though the “landscape” is stunning I puzzle over the purpose of my being in this particular location. “How then am I to experience this journey to reap the full benefit of my being here?” “And by the way who am I speaking with?”
“It is good that you asked – we are pleased you are allowing your natural inquisitiveness to be expressed.” “You will do best to feel your way through this journey.” "As for who you’re speaking to – well… let’s just say that all that exists here has an innate consciousness unto itself and you are able to connect directly and experience what you describe as “conversation.”
Hour 6: Feel my way around…. hmm well now, where ever I am, it will be much like trying to converse piece meal with the locals using a phrase book. But wait…… what’s this then? This region “feels” inexplicably joyful – huh, imagine feeling spontaneous joy this is indeed an extraordinary place!
Hour 7: Is it an extraordinary place or are you allowing an extraordinary experience?" pipes up my anonymous roving narrator. Still I could swear of seen this before sometime.
Hour 8: The heaviness. the shear exhaustion. the mood eclipses everything. The darkness all consuming. I cannot possibly bare this alone. If only there was some way to lighten this load. “You could ask….” – “just saying”
“Alright ….. help?”
“It is so ….. let it be done!”
“Oh my God what a relief… I don’t think I could have lasted much longer”
“Oh chances are you could…. it’s been done, some for a life time!”
Hour 9: “It’s that easy?”
“What you mean getting help?”
“Yes” I’ve been convinced that I must struggle on & on & on……."
“well you could….. it’s your choice, however solutions are yours for the asking.”
“But I have…. I’m sure of it……”
“No you don’t ask…… you adhere to your way, as though there is no other possibility.” “You then may declare it’s impossible” “I give up” “I never wanted it anyway” – “none of which is I NEED HELP!”
Hour 10: I discover a series of caves – with the most intriguing reverberation qualities. The deeper I go into the blackness the more cacophonous the sound and I realize the feelings are a mixture all across the emotional spectrum. Impressions form in my mind as phrases are given to correspond with some of the feelings. “I want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted….” “How could they… I trusted with my entire being” “Of course I can do this… failure is not an option” What will I ever do without…….. I never conceived there would be time when they were not….. " “Why did you leave me?” “I am so alone….” “no one cares and no one would understand!”
Hour 11: Having run from the cave I sat catching my breath as a fog descended over me – it was warm and wonderful and it induced in me a feeling that everything was perfectly ok, anything and everything was possible.
“Just so you know what you are experiencing now one might say is the predominant “environmental conditions” of this entire region, however it is subject to what can best be described as “interference.”"
Hour 12: "Transmissions, reception, innovation, guidance ………. so much you rely and revere your technology to communicate and as the source of “information” and yet there exists a vast network so complex that it will never be duplicated by your scientists and you ignore it – though you are now being given the opportunity to see it first hand"
Hour 13: I am shaken from…. wait a minute can you awake from awake? What was all that about advanced communication?
Hour 14: This “place” is endless one pinnacle gives way to valleys so vast they bridge the horizons on to resume at the base of the next summit.
“Forgive me for interrupting your contemplation but do you want the answer to your question regarding communication?”
Hour 15: Strangely there is no fatigue, I have been going for hours? and feel as energized as when I started. “onward, to the next pinnacle” While I’m at it yes, do tell about these communication advancements"
“What you are experiencing as a phenomena – consistently feeling your way as you go is the way of this world and many advanced civilizations throughout the universe.”
Hour 16: As I sit and watch large bodies of crimson lake front pulsing and rhythmically creating geyser-like fountains tossed toward the heavens I feel a consuming sadness while considering this “feeling form of communication.”
Hour 17: The “natural laws” don’t apparently apply here so I can actually walk across the “lake” as I walk (or would that be wade) I ponder: “how is it that the best human kind has been able to muster is so primitive in scope?”
“Ahem….. rhetorical question or …….?”
“No please go ahead …. I really had no imagining that a place such as this could exist, I must admit I am quite shaken with the discovery.”
“To be expected…… when the very fabric you create your reality from is shown to be shall we say, rather porous you can expect to experience “instability.” “You and your kind have not been excluded from what you are realizing is a widely practiced way of being…… it is just that so far you chose not to develop the potentials within each of you.”
Hour 18: No that couldn’t be…… after all if that were true it would be an entirely different world we live in?" "That which is touted as conventions of “human nature” simply are not." "They are well worn paths to be sure….. popularly espoused and in many cases fervently upheld…. even enforced?
Hour 19: “Surely not…. that would mean…… no it can’t be!!” I’m high…. that tea….. has got me trippin’ ….. that’s what it is
Hour 20: Strangely comfortable this place ….. despite the hallucinations cum revelations, for a completely alien environment I feel strangely at home.
Hour 21: "How easily you reduce the experience you are having here to mere “hallucination” now perhaps you might begin to understand how ways of being remain entrenched in your world. It has nothing to do with what is possible, it is what you collectively decide to uphold as “truth.” “You will fight and die to uphold your stories rather than consider the seeds of your potential”
Hour 22: Twenty-two hours since I “arrived” here and I discover I didn’t need to climb the mountains – laws of gravity don’t apply here. “Better late than never?”
Hour 23: "Am I ever to know where I am? It’s nearly time to leave!
“You might consider more important than “where you are” to “who you are” (including who you have been, who you want to be and what you want to realize, while you can of the seeds of your potential.")
Hour 24: The ground beneath my feet turn from solid to a consistency much like day old oatmeal. The surroundings once again swirl and blend like cosmic almond roca. I am absorbed into the vortex all that has been presented to me becomes a quantum martini, when at last I am once again able to focus I am sitting back at the fire. There where I left him was the elder smoking his pipe.
“Now can I finally know what planet, in what galaxy, was it that I traveled to?”
The old man sat back laughing uproariously, blowing smoke rings before he answered. “You really believe you are ready to explore the far reaches of outer space?” “Before you and many like you concern yourself with journeying to other worlds – you might consider exploring a world much closer to home.” "You my friend were a “pioneer” of your own heart" Now there is a world that humanity could explore and discover newly for quite some time to come!"
Ominous clouds formed the back drop of our meeting it was as though the elements, the titans and the gods themselves were to be our witness. The intermittent din of thunder and heavenly electrical pyro-technics added an air of awe and mystique to the gathering.
I sat at the fire with my “guide” and listened as he outlined how I was to proceed if I chose to follow through now that this rendezvous of ours had come to be. I knew very little about this man, he is I’m told, a descendant from a lineage of medicine men, his ancestors have made their home in the Andean mountains of Peru. Beyond that I was told for my purposes I wouldn’t require any further information.
As we sat at the fire I watched as he ground various plants and herbs before adding them to a pot he was steeping over the fire. “What is that you are preparing?” I inquired.
This “tea” once it has reached the desired potency, is to provide the vehicle (if you will) which will enable you to embark on the journey you wish to experience."
“How is that even possible, how can tea take me anywhere?” I probed.
“I doubt very much if the answer would be satisfactory to you, all is not as it appears especially to you have been steeped in the western world with it’s proclivity to worship the mind (logic, rational thought and the world as it is experienced through the 5 basic senses). The properties of these plants when blended in the right proportions is very powerful medicine. It can open portals within time and space, as well as within the individual that uses them which in turn makes possible among other things astral travel.”
“You’re right – even having had it explained, I don’t have a clear understanding to say the least.”
“It is not necessary that you understand the mechanism, what is more important is that you are clear about whether you want to do this or not?” “Ambiguity can lead to some rather undesirable outcomes, there is no dishonour in opting out but once you begin there is no turning back!”
“I’m clear, let’s do this thing!” “How will I know where I am going?”
“Your request was to experience another world – beyond that the process is out of your control, their is an innate intelligence in the medicine which invokes powers that will ascertain exactly where you need to travel.”
“Alright then, I can’t say that leaves me feeling overwhelmingly assured but I’m ready………”
With that the medicine man handed me a cup and instructed me to drink the entire contents as quickly as I could. It was the most vile tasting concoction I had ever ingested (and I have been party to some particularly unique home brew beverages) still none even came close to rancid, earthy, putrid liquid that my wretching body threatened to expel as quickly as I was swallowing it.
As i finished the last of this jungle swill my a vortex twisting from inside myself soon spun any sense of perceptual separation into a maelstrom of colour, temperature and sensation. The fire became the rainfall, the lightning didn’t just cast light, it sent surges of energy through my whole being until I entirely lost awareness of that which previously represented my conscious experience of my surroundings.
To say when I awoke would not be accurate as to the best of my knowledge I wasn’t asleep. However once the intensity subsided the next thing I “saw” certainly left me no doubt I was no longer sitting by the fire (even if I was there was nothing familiar with the landscape that was coming into view now.
Hour 1: All that I can see around me is the hue of red ochre like the dirt on Prince Edward Island. Upon the horizon there are dozens of spires consisting of every imaginable geometric shape similar to those in Bryce Canyon. As I begin to walk around I notice the overall temperature to be warm without being oppressive.
Hour 2: I encounter bubbling pools of what looks somewhat like a entire weekend’s donation to the red cross brought to a slow boil. As I am breathing unhindered I presume the atmosphere to be life sustaining.
Hour 3: After continuous walking it is no longer clear if I have traversed any appreciable distance or I’m back where I started from. Some of the surroundings seem familiar however there is unquestionably new territory as well. Closer observation yields the realization that the pathways around this region are labyrinthine in nature.
Hour 4: I ask to myself (obviously not expecting an answer) “I wonder where it is that I am?” much to my surprise I receive an answer. “You will benefit much more from continual exploration – without the your specific location being revealed.” “Suffice to say – though visually you are being given a particular presentation, in truth this is entirely for your benefit.” " The “terrain” is being projected in a fashion that you are able to relate to."
Hour 5: Though the “landscape” is stunning I puzzle over the purpose of my being in this particular location. “How then am I to experience this journey to reap the full benefit of my being here?” “And by the way who am I speaking with?”
“It is good that you asked – we are pleased you are allowing your natural inquisitiveness to be expressed.” “You will do best to feel your way through this journey.” "As for who you’re speaking to – well… let’s just say that all that exists here has an innate consciousness unto itself and you are able to connect directly and experience what you describe as “conversation.”
Hour 6: Feel my way around…. hmm well now, where ever I am, it will be much like trying to converse piece meal with the locals using a phrase book. But wait…… what’s this then? This region “feels” inexplicably joyful – huh, imagine feeling spontaneous joy this is indeed an extraordinary place!
Hour 7: Is it an extraordinary place or are you allowing an extraordinary experience?" pipes up my anonymous roving narrator. Still I could swear of seen this before sometime.
Hour 8: The heaviness. the shear exhaustion. the mood eclipses everything. The darkness all consuming. I cannot possibly bare this alone. If only there was some way to lighten this load. “You could ask….” – “just saying”
“Alright ….. help?”
“It is so ….. let it be done!”
“Oh my God what a relief… I don’t think I could have lasted much longer”
“Oh chances are you could…. it’s been done, some for a life time!”
Hour 9: “It’s that easy?”
“What you mean getting help?”
“Yes” I’ve been convinced that I must struggle on & on & on……."
“well you could….. it’s your choice, however solutions are yours for the asking.”
“But I have…. I’m sure of it……”
“No you don’t ask…… you adhere to your way, as though there is no other possibility.” “You then may declare it’s impossible” “I give up” “I never wanted it anyway” – “none of which is I NEED HELP!”
Hour 10: I discover a series of caves – with the most intriguing reverberation qualities. The deeper I go into the blackness the more cacophonous the sound and I realize the feelings are a mixture all across the emotional spectrum. Impressions form in my mind as phrases are given to correspond with some of the feelings. “I want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted….” “How could they… I trusted with my entire being” “Of course I can do this… failure is not an option” What will I ever do without…….. I never conceived there would be time when they were not….. " “Why did you leave me?” “I am so alone….” “no one cares and no one would understand!”
Hour 11: Having run from the cave I sat catching my breath as a fog descended over me – it was warm and wonderful and it induced in me a feeling that everything was perfectly ok, anything and everything was possible.
“Just so you know what you are experiencing now one might say is the predominant “environmental conditions” of this entire region, however it is subject to what can best be described as “interference.”"
Hour 12: "Transmissions, reception, innovation, guidance ………. so much you rely and revere your technology to communicate and as the source of “information” and yet there exists a vast network so complex that it will never be duplicated by your scientists and you ignore it – though you are now being given the opportunity to see it first hand"
Hour 13: I am shaken from…. wait a minute can you awake from awake? What was all that about advanced communication?
Hour 14: This “place” is endless one pinnacle gives way to valleys so vast they bridge the horizons on to resume at the base of the next summit.
“Forgive me for interrupting your contemplation but do you want the answer to your question regarding communication?”
Hour 15: Strangely there is no fatigue, I have been going for hours? and feel as energized as when I started. “onward, to the next pinnacle” While I’m at it yes, do tell about these communication advancements"
“What you are experiencing as a phenomena – consistently feeling your way as you go is the way of this world and many advanced civilizations throughout the universe.”
Hour 16: As I sit and watch large bodies of crimson lake front pulsing and rhythmically creating geyser-like fountains tossed toward the heavens I feel a consuming sadness while considering this “feeling form of communication.”
Hour 17: The “natural laws” don’t apparently apply here so I can actually walk across the “lake” as I walk (or would that be wade) I ponder: “how is it that the best human kind has been able to muster is so primitive in scope?”
“Ahem….. rhetorical question or …….?”
“No please go ahead …. I really had no imagining that a place such as this could exist, I must admit I am quite shaken with the discovery.”
“To be expected…… when the very fabric you create your reality from is shown to be shall we say, rather porous you can expect to experience “instability.” “You and your kind have not been excluded from what you are realizing is a widely practiced way of being…… it is just that so far you chose not to develop the potentials within each of you.”
Hour 18: No that couldn’t be…… after all if that were true it would be an entirely different world we live in?" "That which is touted as conventions of “human nature” simply are not." "They are well worn paths to be sure….. popularly espoused and in many cases fervently upheld…. even enforced?
Hour 19: “Surely not…. that would mean…… no it can’t be!!” I’m high…. that tea….. has got me trippin’ ….. that’s what it is
Hour 20: Strangely comfortable this place ….. despite the hallucinations cum revelations, for a completely alien environment I feel strangely at home.
Hour 21: "How easily you reduce the experience you are having here to mere “hallucination” now perhaps you might begin to understand how ways of being remain entrenched in your world. It has nothing to do with what is possible, it is what you collectively decide to uphold as “truth.” “You will fight and die to uphold your stories rather than consider the seeds of your potential”
Hour 22: Twenty-two hours since I “arrived” here and I discover I didn’t need to climb the mountains – laws of gravity don’t apply here. “Better late than never?”
Hour 23: "Am I ever to know where I am? It’s nearly time to leave!
“You might consider more important than “where you are” to “who you are” (including who you have been, who you want to be and what you want to realize, while you can of the seeds of your potential.")
Hour 24: The ground beneath my feet turn from solid to a consistency much like day old oatmeal. The surroundings once again swirl and blend like cosmic almond roca. I am absorbed into the vortex all that has been presented to me becomes a quantum martini, when at last I am once again able to focus I am sitting back at the fire. There where I left him was the elder smoking his pipe.
“Now can I finally know what planet, in what galaxy, was it that I traveled to?”
The old man sat back laughing uproariously, blowing smoke rings before he answered. “You really believe you are ready to explore the far reaches of outer space?” “Before you and many like you concern yourself with journeying to other worlds – you might consider exploring a world much closer to home.” "You my friend were a “pioneer” of your own heart" Now there is a world that humanity could explore and discover newly for quite some time to come!"
Sunday, 12 July 2015
Let the Rains Begin!
Given I reside on an island that is classified to be within a "temperate rainforest" in general terms seldom is water in short supply due to lack of rainfall a pressing issue. However, an atypically reduced precipitation last winter (and spring) which has extended into the early summer has the region becoming significantly dry. There are wildfires burning on the island and the interior of the province.
Yesterday saw the return of the first "rainfall" in quite sometime; though overall it didn't really amount to much. Just the same it was helpful to those fighting the fires and a refreshing respite from the muggy temperatures and what I was beginning to perceive as the relentless sun. My preference for weather conditions doesn't align with that of many. While I enjoy a "bright sunny day" - I am quite comfortable and contented in temperatures between 20 - 25 degrees Celsius. I don't like to lie in the sun - to me it's just hot and boring. When the temperature climbs above that range (if I must be outside, I am grateful for and seek shade). It seems to me to hear others speak, no matter how much sun light hours present, the claim is "we hardly had any warm weather."
I don't even get how people function in hotter climates - while others complain that "there is always a wind blowing" - I am happy to feel the breeze. I'm not convinced of the allure to various regions of the world that remain hot even through the night. Those few days we might get in a typical summer where the breeze is hot during the day and the temperature in the house never seems to fall at night are anything but comfortable let alone desirable. I do my best to accept "weather" along with the other circumstances surrounding my life - however, if asked, in the interest of authenticity, I'm happy to see the hotter days pass. Of course to express this invites admonishment from others as if my stating my preference will spell an end to balmy summer days.
I had intended to go to a local pool yesterday, which is an easy walk from my place. By the time I was ready to go, I looked out the window and it had begun to rain. It was a beautiful sight to see. At the same time I had to laugh at myself as thoughts went through my mind to abandon my resolve to get to the pool because of the necessity of walking in the rain. Heaven forbid I "get wet" before I go swimming. I quickly shook off these thoughts recognizing that somewhere within my programming there was likely such ideas as "get in out of the rain" and "good versus lousy weather" - perhaps, "oh of course it rains on my day off" or somehow determining if was somehow "better" to walk in the absence of rain.
How refreshing it was to feel the cool rain caressing my skin. Despite not having an acute sense of smell there was no mistaking the air was "fresher." It was interesting to hear others discussing the presence of rain while in the hot tub. One fellow was concerned about whether it would stop before he was to ride his bike home. Then he and another fellow upon hearing that is was "pouring" dashed to a doorway leading to a courtyard outside the pool area to assess for themselves. Another fellow in the swirl pool spoke to me in a thick Scottish accent and exclaimed incredulously, I'm from Scotland rainfall in any way, shape or form isn't something I'd run outdoors to witness." "You mean it's not a novelty," I replied tongue in cheek. "You got the right," he answered.
The other two returned to the hot tub and traded predictions regarding the likelihood of rain the following day. "Perhaps the whole weekend won't be ruined." Now, don't get me wrong, undeniably I have offered into the ether my fair share of drama - even still, this conversation was comical to me. I suppose I could see myself reflected (not so much about the weather - but no question I have allowed something or someone, to commandeer "my day.")
I went from the hot tub toward the steam room and sauna where I could see the courtyard and the continuing rainfall. There was fellow out side doing some katas, or perhaps tai chi, or Qi Gong sequences. I was totally inspired by that!! I went and sat in the sauna for awhile and then went out into the rainfall. What an amazing contrast - how cleansing that felt, I joined the trees in their welcoming gesture of outstretched limbs. I was reminded of a plant in my apartment that as I recall is called a "prayer plant" (I don't know what it's biological name is) it profoundly embodies it's needs with regard to water. It presents in a rather sad down-trodden fashion when experiencing a particular degree of dehydration. Once it is watered - it is almost as though you can see it rejoicing once again as all of it's limbs reach in the celebration of receiving. Maybe, just maybe, as I stood in the rain and felt the mix of appreciation, re-energizing and refreshment I was granted some insight into how my plant felt.
Between the return and dance with the rain and time spent in the pool, I became more in touch with the restorative qualities of the water element; reminding me of the need to balance the various elements. Too much fire and one burns up, too much earth and perhaps one is then too ensconced in the "material world" and without some mix of air (spirituality) the lack of "ethereal" connection might push one into a state of being of "no earthly good." (to self or others). Of course both air and water are literally life sustaining for our humanity. We are made of the same elements as the earth and do require some connection to the fire of the sun.
I have a song on my iPod that was off a cd recorded by a group in Africa. It was a celebratory song -"Rain, rain beautiful rain......" is sung in praise and exultation. These are people that know the extended ramifications of drought. Honouring, appreciation and thanks are expressed by many cultures when the rain returns.
I am grateful that my western world, privelidged white male mindset can and is being expanded.
Who knows one day you might just find me singing in the rain!?
Yesterday saw the return of the first "rainfall" in quite sometime; though overall it didn't really amount to much. Just the same it was helpful to those fighting the fires and a refreshing respite from the muggy temperatures and what I was beginning to perceive as the relentless sun. My preference for weather conditions doesn't align with that of many. While I enjoy a "bright sunny day" - I am quite comfortable and contented in temperatures between 20 - 25 degrees Celsius. I don't like to lie in the sun - to me it's just hot and boring. When the temperature climbs above that range (if I must be outside, I am grateful for and seek shade). It seems to me to hear others speak, no matter how much sun light hours present, the claim is "we hardly had any warm weather."
I don't even get how people function in hotter climates - while others complain that "there is always a wind blowing" - I am happy to feel the breeze. I'm not convinced of the allure to various regions of the world that remain hot even through the night. Those few days we might get in a typical summer where the breeze is hot during the day and the temperature in the house never seems to fall at night are anything but comfortable let alone desirable. I do my best to accept "weather" along with the other circumstances surrounding my life - however, if asked, in the interest of authenticity, I'm happy to see the hotter days pass. Of course to express this invites admonishment from others as if my stating my preference will spell an end to balmy summer days.
I had intended to go to a local pool yesterday, which is an easy walk from my place. By the time I was ready to go, I looked out the window and it had begun to rain. It was a beautiful sight to see. At the same time I had to laugh at myself as thoughts went through my mind to abandon my resolve to get to the pool because of the necessity of walking in the rain. Heaven forbid I "get wet" before I go swimming. I quickly shook off these thoughts recognizing that somewhere within my programming there was likely such ideas as "get in out of the rain" and "good versus lousy weather" - perhaps, "oh of course it rains on my day off" or somehow determining if was somehow "better" to walk in the absence of rain.
How refreshing it was to feel the cool rain caressing my skin. Despite not having an acute sense of smell there was no mistaking the air was "fresher." It was interesting to hear others discussing the presence of rain while in the hot tub. One fellow was concerned about whether it would stop before he was to ride his bike home. Then he and another fellow upon hearing that is was "pouring" dashed to a doorway leading to a courtyard outside the pool area to assess for themselves. Another fellow in the swirl pool spoke to me in a thick Scottish accent and exclaimed incredulously, I'm from Scotland rainfall in any way, shape or form isn't something I'd run outdoors to witness." "You mean it's not a novelty," I replied tongue in cheek. "You got the right," he answered.
The other two returned to the hot tub and traded predictions regarding the likelihood of rain the following day. "Perhaps the whole weekend won't be ruined." Now, don't get me wrong, undeniably I have offered into the ether my fair share of drama - even still, this conversation was comical to me. I suppose I could see myself reflected (not so much about the weather - but no question I have allowed something or someone, to commandeer "my day.")
I went from the hot tub toward the steam room and sauna where I could see the courtyard and the continuing rainfall. There was fellow out side doing some katas, or perhaps tai chi, or Qi Gong sequences. I was totally inspired by that!! I went and sat in the sauna for awhile and then went out into the rainfall. What an amazing contrast - how cleansing that felt, I joined the trees in their welcoming gesture of outstretched limbs. I was reminded of a plant in my apartment that as I recall is called a "prayer plant" (I don't know what it's biological name is) it profoundly embodies it's needs with regard to water. It presents in a rather sad down-trodden fashion when experiencing a particular degree of dehydration. Once it is watered - it is almost as though you can see it rejoicing once again as all of it's limbs reach in the celebration of receiving. Maybe, just maybe, as I stood in the rain and felt the mix of appreciation, re-energizing and refreshment I was granted some insight into how my plant felt.
Between the return and dance with the rain and time spent in the pool, I became more in touch with the restorative qualities of the water element; reminding me of the need to balance the various elements. Too much fire and one burns up, too much earth and perhaps one is then too ensconced in the "material world" and without some mix of air (spirituality) the lack of "ethereal" connection might push one into a state of being of "no earthly good." (to self or others). Of course both air and water are literally life sustaining for our humanity. We are made of the same elements as the earth and do require some connection to the fire of the sun.
I have a song on my iPod that was off a cd recorded by a group in Africa. It was a celebratory song -"Rain, rain beautiful rain......" is sung in praise and exultation. These are people that know the extended ramifications of drought. Honouring, appreciation and thanks are expressed by many cultures when the rain returns.
I am grateful that my western world, privelidged white male mindset can and is being expanded.
Who knows one day you might just find me singing in the rain!?
Sunday, 28 June 2015
Limited Performance Without Limits
No slight intended to the animators at Disney, certainly I have been
entertained at one time or another by any number of their epic features,
characters and soundtracks, however, it truly doesn't hold a candle to
my "real life" versions.
I have described in previous blog posts the stirring hikes, nature sits, or otherwise just engaging with the world as I am listening to "random music" on my iPod. Today would be another such occasion. I had just finished a great workout and was coming back toward my place and came through the Garry Oak meadow (that again is frequently featured in my posts) I had intentionally brought along an energy bar, an apple and a smoothie to enjoy in the park. I knew that I would be hungry by then having not eat prior to the workout.
I scaled the flight of stairs that led to higher ground, which includes a rocky knoll that I like to meditate/contemplate upon. As I climbed the stairs I was struck with appreciation for my body and the ease with which it tackled the incline. It felt good to be enjoying the incremental return of fitness. I recalled that through parts of the previous year I had experienced what was at times, quite debilitating lower back pain. While at it's worst it was necessary to employ different forms of adaptation in order to put on socks, deal with shoe laces (slip on shoes became preferable) or deal with other routines of foot care. The cause of this given the multifaceted levels of being human was varied and not the scope of this post. It proved to be another wake-up call for me. Without any intention to "get on my case" my observation is that my journey through or with life, seems to be one of an ongoing series of these sort of calls. My attention is drawn to one spoke on the wheel through some form of wake-up experience and while I adapt and integrate that, I'm shown I am still "hitting snooze" somewhere else.
It was incredulous for me to consider that at one time "I" in this vary same body, used to play "back-catcher" which required one not only to assume a full squatting position (to offer the pitcher a "target" behind homeplate) but also one had to be very agile from that same stance, ready to spring up in an instant to chase a wild pitch or field a foul ball. The Garth Brooks song - "I'm Much too Young to Feel This Damn Old" was an apt metaphor at that time.
Fast forward to the present and once I perched myself on the hill top I squatted there for a while, as with a teaching I just heard from a First Nations dancer about crow (which he shared to introduce the "crow dance") it was said that crow sometimes hops to where it is going - "Just because it can," for the pure joy of it!
I stood up again and just as I was surveying my surroundings (the hilltop offers a panoramic view) the song "Circle of Life" began to play - I felt my heart open as I took in the beauty both near and far. A rush of emotion flowed freely through me and I marveled at how once again the music I was hearing became the "soundtrack" and all that surrounded me including me, came into sync with the peaks and valleys of the music. I sat down and looked up and to my right ...... "Circle, the circle of life" and a new character had entered "stage right" a hawk circled, effortlessly gliding on the rising thermals. It's continued circular flight tracked gradually further away, until it appeared to have been ingested by the sky.
One song concludes and another begins each piece of music cues in succession, the various dancers in natures ballet. I watched hummingbirds rocket skyward and pirouetting back and forth across center stage. Then there was a single dragon fly that dove from above it's iridescent body and wings brilliantly reflecting the morning sunlight. Then it was joined by a second dancer - theirs was to be an aerial tango. Admittedly I don't know what it means - just the same (insert idiom to feign Hipness) they were "killing it."
There were other birds (I'll call "chickadees" that at times flew so close to me I seemingly could have touched them). The back drop all the while, was a rich sky blue which had in various quadrants been airbrushed with wisps of white cotton candy. Then the finally appeared overhead a bald eagle in mature adult regalia deftly maneuvered with ease as two crows chased it around. The crows certainly seemed to be exerting far more energy as their wings were constantly flapping in order to keep up the chase and while the eagle just banked left or right to change direction, the crows seemed unable to soar in kind. Just the same, what they might have lacked in aerodynamics, they certainly more than made up for with tenacity. All the while as this dance continued (which may well have involved the crows ensuring the eagle was not allowed anywhere near their nest) the eagle was unable to gain any headway on the two crows, that were like a pair of border collies herding sheep. They "escorted" the eagle beyond where I was able to see them any longer.
For me, an exquisite teaching in being here now & appreciating deeply all that I see - though there will be another feature performance at the same venue another day, the same combinations of events is not to seen again.
I have described in previous blog posts the stirring hikes, nature sits, or otherwise just engaging with the world as I am listening to "random music" on my iPod. Today would be another such occasion. I had just finished a great workout and was coming back toward my place and came through the Garry Oak meadow (that again is frequently featured in my posts) I had intentionally brought along an energy bar, an apple and a smoothie to enjoy in the park. I knew that I would be hungry by then having not eat prior to the workout.
I scaled the flight of stairs that led to higher ground, which includes a rocky knoll that I like to meditate/contemplate upon. As I climbed the stairs I was struck with appreciation for my body and the ease with which it tackled the incline. It felt good to be enjoying the incremental return of fitness. I recalled that through parts of the previous year I had experienced what was at times, quite debilitating lower back pain. While at it's worst it was necessary to employ different forms of adaptation in order to put on socks, deal with shoe laces (slip on shoes became preferable) or deal with other routines of foot care. The cause of this given the multifaceted levels of being human was varied and not the scope of this post. It proved to be another wake-up call for me. Without any intention to "get on my case" my observation is that my journey through or with life, seems to be one of an ongoing series of these sort of calls. My attention is drawn to one spoke on the wheel through some form of wake-up experience and while I adapt and integrate that, I'm shown I am still "hitting snooze" somewhere else.
It was incredulous for me to consider that at one time "I" in this vary same body, used to play "back-catcher" which required one not only to assume a full squatting position (to offer the pitcher a "target" behind homeplate) but also one had to be very agile from that same stance, ready to spring up in an instant to chase a wild pitch or field a foul ball. The Garth Brooks song - "I'm Much too Young to Feel This Damn Old" was an apt metaphor at that time.
Fast forward to the present and once I perched myself on the hill top I squatted there for a while, as with a teaching I just heard from a First Nations dancer about crow (which he shared to introduce the "crow dance") it was said that crow sometimes hops to where it is going - "Just because it can," for the pure joy of it!
I stood up again and just as I was surveying my surroundings (the hilltop offers a panoramic view) the song "Circle of Life" began to play - I felt my heart open as I took in the beauty both near and far. A rush of emotion flowed freely through me and I marveled at how once again the music I was hearing became the "soundtrack" and all that surrounded me including me, came into sync with the peaks and valleys of the music. I sat down and looked up and to my right ...... "Circle, the circle of life" and a new character had entered "stage right" a hawk circled, effortlessly gliding on the rising thermals. It's continued circular flight tracked gradually further away, until it appeared to have been ingested by the sky.
One song concludes and another begins each piece of music cues in succession, the various dancers in natures ballet. I watched hummingbirds rocket skyward and pirouetting back and forth across center stage. Then there was a single dragon fly that dove from above it's iridescent body and wings brilliantly reflecting the morning sunlight. Then it was joined by a second dancer - theirs was to be an aerial tango. Admittedly I don't know what it means - just the same (insert idiom to feign Hipness) they were "killing it."
There were other birds (I'll call "chickadees" that at times flew so close to me I seemingly could have touched them). The back drop all the while, was a rich sky blue which had in various quadrants been airbrushed with wisps of white cotton candy. Then the finally appeared overhead a bald eagle in mature adult regalia deftly maneuvered with ease as two crows chased it around. The crows certainly seemed to be exerting far more energy as their wings were constantly flapping in order to keep up the chase and while the eagle just banked left or right to change direction, the crows seemed unable to soar in kind. Just the same, what they might have lacked in aerodynamics, they certainly more than made up for with tenacity. All the while as this dance continued (which may well have involved the crows ensuring the eagle was not allowed anywhere near their nest) the eagle was unable to gain any headway on the two crows, that were like a pair of border collies herding sheep. They "escorted" the eagle beyond where I was able to see them any longer.
For me, an exquisite teaching in being here now & appreciating deeply all that I see - though there will be another feature performance at the same venue another day, the same combinations of events is not to seen again.
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