Tank flap…
Horses are herbivores…
They roam in herds,
grazing for more than twelve hours a day (fifteen to twenty hours if food is scarce),
and drinking when thirsty…
If confronted with a strange noise, smell, or sight,
the herd thunders away at great speed…
When cornered,
horses fight using their teeth and hooves…
“Fight or flight” is still the horse’s principle means of defense from danger;
therefore,
excitement,
nervousness,
confusion,
and fear can result in a horse acting defensively or trying to run from perceived threats…
— in Professional Care of the Racehorse by T.A. Landers…
If you know,
from personal experience,
what it’s like,
to be kept awake,
at night,
by the roar,
of water,
endlessly filling,
the bowl,
of your toilet,
due to the disintegration,
of the washer,
at the source,
then you’ve slept a night,
in my shoes…
And until,
the fixer-man,
in the coveralls,
shows up,
at your door,
the only solution,
to the problem,
is shut-off,
at the main…
Sometime,
before the quarter-finals,
slid,
down the drain,
for my team,
I wondered how,
to get all the noise,
about two goalies,
to stop,
and I prayed,
for an answer,
as I measured out,
cooked oats,
for an evening feed…
And I got,
what I wished for…
Kevin Bieksa,
has been quoted as saying,
something like,
I don’t know what,
I’m going to do,
tomorrow,
after the team bus,
slid to a halt,
in overtime…
In my book,
when all else fails,
and I don’t know,
what to do,
with myself,
I take a nap,
and I enjoy,
every single,
second of it…
With Spring,
just beginning,
and Summer,
up in the headlights,
I’d string up,
a hammock,
somewhere secret,
and stare up,
at the sky,
until the cows,
come home…
Within moments of,
the ramifications,
of Stoll’s shot,
sinking in,
Little Gem wrapped,
herself up,
in our story blanket,
and said,
Oh well,
now we’ll have lots of time,
to watch cooking shows,
and do all of the things,
we didn’t have time for,
last year…
Some people claim,
they don’t know how,
to nap…
I feel sorry,
for them,
and suggest they watch rabbits,
and horses,
for a little how-to,
on that afternoon,
delight…
When I make plans,
to roll over,
Jason Botchford’s baby toes,
with my Volvo,
while dining on,
spaghettini,
with mussels,
and clams,
in a white wine sauce,
Little Gem,
and Starshine say,
things like,
You can’t get violent,
with people,
just because,
they’ve got,
nothing better,
to do,
with their skill set…
That may very well,
be true…
So instead,
of kicking,
rumour mongers,
with my boots,
I’m directing energy,
at long distance calls,
to my friend Roberto,
about how,
to connect his right fist,
to the inside,
of his left elbow,
as he swings,
a classic Italian gesture,
in the general direction,
of Vancouver,
while walking south,
to wherever he wants,
for a new song…
Cat trick…
like popcorn stuck to itself,
or a string of lace rolled up tight,
or a handful of fingerling shells pasted together,
each with a tear where something,
escaped to the sea. I brought it home
out of the uncombed morning and consulted
among my books. I do not know
what to call this sharpest desire…
— in Why I Wake Early by Mary Oliver
On the second day,
of the racing season,
an owner asked me,
if I could speak,
to her horse,
and ask him,
why he reared,
right out,
of the starting gate,
and ended up last,
at the wire…
I said,
I can see,
nothing more,
than he wants,
to show me,
and then I fell down,
in the feed room,
as the horse amplified,
his feeling,
of rage,
and shame,
through every cell,
of my body…
I crossed the shedrow,
to see if,
there were,
any more comments,
on the matter,
and he shrugged,
his shoulders
as if,
to say,
I don’t know WHY…
It’s JUST,
what HAPPENED…
After the delivery,
of the core message,
he turned his head,
into the corner,
of his stall,
and pointing,
a hind end,
in my general direction,
as he held the space,
for his own privacy,
the best he could,
under the given,
circumstances,
he whispered,
politely,
Now ENOUGH said…
One of the things,
I love most,
about working,
with horses,
if their economy,
of expression…
They make Coach V,
look like,
a complete,
and total,
blabbermouth…
Funny how,
once again,
people have taken,
to asking me,
What IS going on,
with YOUR Vancouver Canucks???
as if,
they were all mine…
Well the thing I know,
about athletes,
bred,
and built,
for speed,
is that one,
of two things,
can happen,
when beasts,
break free,
of the starting gate…
And when,
push comes,
to shove,
at the blue lines,
a photo finish,
will determine,
the true test,
of champions,
at the quarter mile…
Little Gem’s,
words from the weary,
are a recipe,
for winding’er down…
Mama,
I think,
it’s time,
to take,
a little trip,
to Relaxustan…
Medicine hat…
Just then,
the moon emerged from the clouds,
and swathed in brilliant light,
Greta returned to her chambers…
As she concealed the bottle of serum in a drawer,
her bird gave a shrill cry…
It had laid two more eggs…
“A sign!!!” she cried,
freeing the creature from its cage…
It stepped into the glow of the candles…
— in The Alchemist and the Angel by Joanne Owen
One thing,
I like to astound,
my children with,
is my dexterity,
with song…
On any given day,
we can be driving up,
or down,
Highway #1,
Commercial Drive,
or the Barnet,
and I can belt out,
anything,
from Donna Summers,
to Carly Rae Jepsen,
with the moves,
like Tina…
Their jaws drop,
as they exclaim,
How do you know,
those things???
The answer,
to such questions,
IS,
It’s from teaching elementary,
my dear Watsons…
The other evening,
as I prepared,
to support my team,
with a hot bath,
and a nap,
I woke up,
just in time,
for the post-game interviews,
after a 5-2 win,
over the Stars…
This gives new meaning,
to BEING asleep,
on the job…
A clinician,
recently said,
as he supervised,
my securement,
of a Western saddle,
on a girthy Pinto mare,
for the first time,
I can see,
you’ve got,
your own way,
of doing things…
I stayed focused,
on the task at hand,
while I wandered on,
what’s the point,
of doing anything,
at all,
if you don’t find,
your own way…
And a little later on,
as this creaky horse,
and I,
worked out,
hind quarter yields,
around a barrel,
I heard a message,
about the necessity,
to fly,
without judgement,
upon the release,
of each puck…
Whenever I’ve finished,
tacking up,
a Thoroughbred,
for a double gallop,
around the track,
his owner queries,
from the next,
stall down,
Are you kissing my horse???
When a dude,
with an attitude,
drops his head,
into your arms,
despite the blinkers,
and the ring bit,
in his mouth,
and has the grace,
to say,
Thank you,
for being here,
with his wall eye,
there’s no other option,
but to accept,
the invitation,
to climb,
into his 16+hand body,
like yesterday,
just don’t matter,
any more,
and let the trip begin,
with a kiss…
Hard tack…
Scientists have tended to note Hartshorne’s hypothesis but have not always taken it seriously —
it harkens back to Darwin’s presumption of an avian aesthetic and would be too hard to quantify…
But Kroodsma believes that Hartshorne is right in one crucial sense:
It is not the total number of song types that create complexity,
but the contrast between one phrase and the next…
Variability must be perceived as it goes along,
and its constant presence must indicate some evolutionary advantage…
Hartshorne,
as a believer in a God who manifests Himself in our world through the eternal unfolding of life,
heard something else in the song of birds that he was not afraid to bring up:
BLISS…
— in WHY BIRDS SING, a journey into the mystery of bird song by David Rothenberg
Less than,
a fortnight ago,
I experienced,
a dream,
in which,
I found myself,
in front,
of a series,
of Viking barbeques,
where I was taking,
outdoor grilling,
to a whole,
new level,
in the locker room,
of The Vancouver Canucks…
I hummed along,
to the sizzle,
of my own,
drum sticks,
when suddenly,
Coach V,
stepped out,
of the darkness…
He was totally,
decked out,
with the tongs,
the fork,
the timer,
the head lamp,
and a standard,
bib apron,
like a kitchen,
cowboy…
He asked me,
Are you sure,
you know,
what you’re doing???
and I felt,
my confidence,
waver,
like a candle,
in the win,
as he removed,
my rib eyes,
and replaced them,
with his own…
It’s a challenge,
not to take things,
personally,
to think they’re pervasive,
and/or permanent,
when you’re working through,
the release of,
a belief system,
and the patterned behaviour,
of undermining…
And it certainly cuts,
both ways…
Yesterday,
I heard a clinician,
tell a story,
about a participant,
and how he’s on,
his own program…
And I saw how,
the man’s face,
dropped,
when his wife echoed,
with a look,
that killed…
We’ve all seen,
the t-shirt,
that says,
Marriage is a relationship,
in which,
one person is right,
and the other,
is the husband,
and by now,
we all should know,
that this way,
of dis-honouring vows,
to love,
and to cherish,
each other,
is a crocodile,
done deed…
And we all,
at this day,
and age,
should certainly know,
a lot better…
Last Thursday,
Little Gem,
left me,
a voice mail,
full of excitement,
and the news,
I finally have,
something I’ve,
always wanted…
When I called,
to discover,
what the big deal,
was all about,
she told me,
I was at Children’s Hospital,
and I have a cast…
When I asked her,
if she was okay,
she said,
Don’t worry Mama,
it’ll be just fine,
in a week or so..
This is only,
a clean fracture…
Pip squeak(s)…
for the ear bone
is the portion that lasts longest
in any of us, man or whale; shaped
like a squat spoon
with a pink scoop where
once, in the lively swimmer’s head,
it joined its two sisters
in the house of hearing…
— in Why I Wake Early by Mary Oliver
Sometime,
last Saturday night,
I saw,
Coach V,
some where,
ethereal…
He made casual,
inquiries,
into,
what I’ve been,
up to,
since,
the butterscotch,
sundaes,
a few years back now…
All the detail,
I had to offer,
was a certain,
Je ne sais quoi…
He thought,
on that a moment,
and said,
I’ll be,
looking forward,
to reading that,
when it’s all,
said,
and done…
The weather man,
expected flurries,
at higher elevations today,
and the traces,
were sure there,
when I went walking,
this afternoon…
It isn’t unusual,
for daughters,
to find,
nothing more,
embarrassing,
than the things,
their fathers think,
are acceptable,
to wear,
out,
in public…
Whenever Starshine,
and Little Gem,
complain,
about their Papa’s,
cycling pants,
and how they don’t,
want,
to be caught dead,
with him,
in those,
I tell them,
they don’t have a leg,
to stand on,
compared,
to my dad,
and his cutting,
of the grass,
in lederhosen…
Starshine told me,
post trade,
Raffi was THEN,
and Zack,
is NOW…
You can’t go sending,
letters bombs,
to Mike Gillis,
every time,
things,
don’t go,
your way…
I wondered,
Why not???
She said,
Because…
Like getting us fake i.d.
so you can take us,
clubbing,
it isn’t mature…
Sometimes,
maturity,
is getting old,
and sometimes,
it’s all about,
seeing,
what’s old,
as new again…
And that,
my friend,
is the perfect sense,
of a woman…
Memory lane up in the headlights... (photo: Starshine)
Dolly grip…
On March 4, 1942 22,000 Japanese Canadians were given 24 hours to pack before being interned…
They were first incarcerated in a temporary facility at Hastings Park Race Track in Vancouver…
Women, children and older people were sent to internment camps in the Interior…
Others were forced into road construction camps…
There were also “self-supporting camps”,
where 1,161 internees paid to lease farms in a less restrictive environment,
although they were still considered “enemy aliens”.
Men who complained about separation from their families,
or violated the curfew,
were sent to the “prisoner of war” camps in Ontario…
— on BritishColumbia.com, researched and written by Diana Breti for The Law Connection
You know you’re getting somewhere,
with your children,
when you can lip sync,
to Adele’s,
someone like you,
with them watching,
through the window,
while you’re waiting,
at the cashier,
to buy shrimp cakes,
and they don’t,
go bezerk…
In fact,
after dropping off,
a friend,
of Little Gem’s,
after a walk,
in the woods,
and me singing along,
to Gord Bamford,
I looked in the rear view,
and both girls,
were right there,
with me,
completely in tune,
to my daughter’s father,
like it was,
a regular day,
at the recording studio…
And when we pulled away,
from the side walk,
I heard a,
Thank you, Mama,
from the back seat…
I wondered,
For what???
She said,
For being yourself,
right from,
the very beginning…
I remember the day,
I found a poem,
filed under Documents,
on my laptop,
and three of the lines read,
Love is very mysterious
And at the same time it is the most beautiful
thing in the world…
When I asked about,
this treasure,
I was told,
in plain language,
I wrote that,
when I was mad,
at you…
The adult world,
thinks it knows,
what children see,
and imposes,
its views,
with an authority,
of ignorance…
When I want to know,
what children see,
I give the choice,
of language,
with which,
they wish,
to communicate,
their own vision(s),
and even then,
I’m well aware,
that I can’t see,
the snap shot,
the child sees,
as it is…
I can only see,
the image,
as I am…
Last Friday morning,
I returned a race horse,
to his stall,
after morning gallop,
and a hot walk…
As I stood there,
on the other side,
of the divider,
from my new,
found friend,
his owner/trainer asked,
from the darkness,
at the end,
of the aisle,
What are you doing,
with my horse???
I condensed it,
to say,
I’m showing him,
how much I BELIEVE,
in what,
his heart,
can do…
Shook me up like a leaf in a hurricane... (photo: Little Gem)
Lady’s slipper…
And what if you had wings
and flew
into the garden,
then fell
into the up-tipped face
of a white flower…
— in Why I Wake Early by Mary Oliver
I don’t know,
how many years ago,
it was now,
because linear time,
has simply become,
one never ending,
question mark,
but I started,
to have these dreams,
where I was,
in the presence,
of a woman,
and from her,
I learned,
about the look,
of love…
And whatever,
she’s told me,
to do,
I did,
and the path,
has been,
a mazing…
When waking,
from these dreams,
I’d search,
and wonder,
IS THAT YOU???
and it took until,
NOW,
to realize,
that this woman,
is none other,
than MY SELF…
And thank god,
for that discovery,
because now,
I know,
I no longer,
have to go,
anywhere,
to find,
what I’ve been,
looking for…
The other day,
Starshine,
and I,
were headed north,
on Victoria Drive,
as we listened,
to the B-Mac and Taylor show,
and we remarked,
on our own conversation,
about the potential,
for the first,
second,
third,
and fourth lines,
of a team,
to develop,
a license,
to penalty kill…
We were astounded,
by the fact,
that we were speaking,
of things,
we’d never ever,
considered,
before,
with clarity,
and a confidence,
that has crept,
slowly,
from out,
of nowhere,
and there ain’t,
no stopping us,
now…
(re)Training thoroughbreds,
from a distance,
is something,
I never saw,
for myself,
but when you’ve had,
a passed life,
as an oyster,
you never forget,
how to make pearls,
and when you remember,
what you already know,
from previous experience,
it’s just a matter,
of being,
in the right place,
at the right time,
before it all,
comes back to you,
BETTER than,
EVER…
When I picked up,
my car,
with its new,
timing belt,
and wiper blades,
on NEW YEAR’s eve,
my mechanic told me,
point blank,
You’re GOOD to go…
I wondered where,
seeing as,
last time,
he said,
You have ENOUGH,
brake pad,
to get to California…
In-between,
karate chops,
to demonstrate,
the power,
of his chi,
he illuminated,
You’re equipped,
to at least,
50 below…
And in that sleight,
of hand,
I heard,
the cheers,
of a triple crown,
and saw,
the sparkle,
of pink diamonds,
in the back stretch…
The jungle is your head... (photo: Starshine)
