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Frog song…

March 1, 2010

Yesterday I almost blew a gasket…

But I had to get myself under control,

because I have children,

and they come first…

Even before hockey…

It was one of those Sundays afternoons,

which register as a logistical nightmare,

when the Olympic game of the century,

is sandwiched in between,

the last soccer match of the season in Point Grey,

and a birthday party in the last block of Southeast Marine Drive,

until you get things into perspective,

and realize that all of this is optional,

and that you and your children aren’t trapped under a pile of rubble,

in Port au Prince,

or Concepcion…

You all have enough food and water,

toilet paper,

gas in your station wagon,

and no one is bleeding,

or requiring life support…

After dropping Little Gem off at her party,

Starshine and I were under time pressure,

to find a friendly place to watch the game,

in the middle of nowhere,

before 1st puckdrop…

Funny how you can be driving through an industrial wasteland,

and then,

all of a sudden,

on the horizon,

you manifest a Canadian Tire,

and a Cactus Club,

out of nothing…

The Cactus Club felt like a toxic waste dump,

and the Cactus Girls were super prickly,

so we went to the White Spot,

way on the other side of the strip mall…

And within minutes of our Legendary Burger platters arriving,

and Jonathan Toews scoring goal number one for Team Canada,

a nun and a young man walked past the bar,

and sat at the table next to us…

They communicated with each other,

in American Sign Language…

I must have had a past life as a priest,

or a prostitute,

because I often find myself in the position,

of hearing people’s confessions,

and I am phobic,

about the airing of dirty laundry…

I was barely through my burger topped with cheddar and bacon,

when the nun opened the curtain,

on the confessional,

and turned my way…

Thankfully she was translating for her table mate,

so that I had multiple modes of communication,

from which to piece together seventy years of a rich,

and varied life,

because she was a low talker,

and there was a mega game going on,

in a lounge full of yellers…

I’m big at cheering,

but I do it internally,

because that is the way I am…

I guided the conversation,

in the direction of calling,

and soul code,

with a few key questions…

They wanted to know if I am Catholic…

I told them that I’ve been called,

to a different spiritual path,

which is more about mathematics,

than arithmetic…

And I told them about a one in a million,

prophetic dream,

I had last Summer…

A dream where I was brought against my will,

to the institution of THE church,

with my children…

The man who appeared to be the leader of the situation,

put a microphone in front of my face…

He told me that I had to pray out loud,

to show my commitment,

to the congregation…

I could feel every single fibre of my body ,

resisting the demand,

that was being made of me,

but for my family’s survival,

I took the microphone,

in my own hand,

closed my eyes,

and started my prayer with,

Dear Great Spirit…

The man grabbed the microphone back,

and said,

unequivocally,

YOU have to use the word GOD…

I looked at him,

while at the same time,

I looked inside myself,

and I said,

NO…

Then I took my children by the hand,

turned and walked away,

closing the door behind me…

The nun smiled at my dream…

She said,

And I know exactly what you’re trying to tell me…

Don’t ever change who you are…

Before lunch today I walked the circumference of the Fraserview Golf Course,

to clear the energy of hangover,

that is currently blanketing the Lower Mainland,

and to look for Coyote…

A few minutes into my walk,

I heard so much intense birdsong,

I almost had to lay down…

But I kept walking,

one foot in front of the other…

Bird song works on our sub-conscious memories,

and prior knowledge…

But you can’t hear it if you’re wearing blue tooth technology,

or your ears are full of headphones,

and other people’s thoughts…

And some time after starting out,

the birdsong started to fade away,

and I heard a chorus,

that told me another cycle of transformation,

is about to begin…

I stood,

and wept,

in those woods,

for what was,

what is,

and what will become,

right now…

Instead of omphaloskepticizing every single second,

of the biggest collective bang,

this nation will EVER experience,

sportscasters could give some thought to sitting quietly,

and pondering the following questions,

Where do afterglowing hearts go???

Why do they make Barbie’s clothes so tight that you can’t even get them on her???

and

How many GD houses does that lion Crosby have in Virgo???

But you can make the times to come better than the rest...

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