Wooden crosses…

Through all of this,

I am compelled to write in order to uncover what I don’t know…

To travel with ideas until they take me beyond.

what I know,

to reveal new,

and deeper sense…

In writing I am on a quest…

There is more to discover…

One way to search is to tell stories to each other,

and to listen carefully with our inner ears,

for the particular soundings these ideas create in our lives,

and in our practice…

— In Bringing Learning to Life by Louise Boyd Cadwell

Some days I want to say to hell with buckwheat flour,

legumes,

and exercise…

Today is one of those days,

when I just want to eat deep fried chicken wings,

watch men run around in skintight knickerbockers,

and piss beer…

But my children are part blood hound,

and when they come back from their home with their father,

they drag their ears,

and run their noses,

along the floor,

start sleuthing,

making observations,

and asking hard questions…

Like,

Let’s see if anyone interesting has called (scanning call display)…

Looks like someone’s been enjoying some Boylan’s around here (lifting bottle)…

So just how was that Creamy Red Birch Beer??? (sniffing contents)

I’m basically forced into ascetic living,

by the fact that I have given birth,

to two card carrying members,

of the Ladies Temperance Society…

I was getting stir crazy in the house this afternoon,

and my station wagon needs some running time,

on high grade gasoline…

So I headed over to the Great Canadian Superstore,

to get the week’s supply for sandwiches,

and some St. Louis style side ribs,

for some pork and beans…

Some people think you need to go to Borneo,

or the Orinoco,

to be an anthropologist…

Not I my friend…

The GCS in North Van,

or anywhere else in the GVRD,

is fertile territory for the study of lost culture…

In my hunt for cotton puffs,

I observed a couple in their early-fifties ,

near the pharmacy,

making a prophylactic selection…

I wanted to say,

Wasabi,

 

with a voice of encouragement,

but when you only see one person in the pair,

walking away with a smile,

while the other displays the cold fear of Cialis,

it’s best to keep such comments to yourself…

In baking supplies I saw a bottleneck,

across from the cornstarch,

and I heard a little girl’s voice say,

Mommy,

I think you’re holding up traffic…

Turned the corner into cereals,

and saw a boy run the cart,

into his father’s achilles…

Dad took over the cart,

saying,

I’ll be doing the driving now…

And when he saw my smile,

said,

This is the third time today…

I’m scared for when he turns sixteen…

By the time I got to the checkout,

with all of those people,

I was thinking,

God I love it here…

The woman in front of me,

in the line up,

was making some last minute decisions,

between a box of cookies,

and pajama pants…

She turned to me,

as she held both items in her hands,

weighing out her options,

and said,

All it takes to keep a woman happy is some new clothes,

a stiff drink,

and a good man…

I looked at her,

waiting,

in silence,

for her elaboration…

She said,

emphatically,

Oh, I have a good man…

I thought but didn’t say,

then why do you need new clothes,

booze,

and convincing,

to keep you happy,

because I wanted to open up,

the flow of conversation…

Then somehow,

suddenly,

things morphed,

as we slid onto the topic,

of ghosts,

and the feeling of presence,

right there,

on that Indian land,

in the middle of the afternoon…