Basic instincts…
I think about this scene quite a bit:
not only the sage leaving for what I think is the wilderness—
the placeless place beyond the mind’s appropriations,
and not only the great poem written and immediately let go;
I also think of the border guard with his divided being,
guarding the frontier,
while revering the sage whose teachings point beyond it…
— Tom McKay in Thinking and Singing, edited by Tim Lilburn
Living with,
a pair of bonded cats,
often brings my person,
to wondering,
what it is that makes one,
get up,
from deep in sleep,
stretch,
and then reach to the other,
for affection,
delivered in the form,
of an attentive,
thorough,
and vigorous,
eyes closed,
washing,
with no strings attached…
I’ve never seen anything quite like it…
Cats move to the beat of their own drum…
And furthermore,
demonstrate,
the fine art of balancing,
both independence,
and togetherness…
When they play,
they play hard,
like stay-at-home,
defencemen…
When they stop,
the boundaries are clear…
result is a hissyfit,
and a speedy boxing,
on the chops…
And in the night,
when one wants the other,
the cry calls out,
to be found,
for comfort,
reassurance,
and a super-charged,
high-speed,
wireless,
frisk,
through the entire house…
We humans,
sure have a lot to learn,
from our feline friends,
when it comes to,
the give,
and take of love…
I’m sure I’ve mentioned,
how my children,
shudder,
at the very sight,
of me,
about to sing…
Except for when,
I put my pipes to Oh, Canada…
For this particular anthem,
Starshine and Little Gem,
both encourage regular practice,
and outrageous bellowing,
of every single note…
Because they’ve had a vision,
of Mama,
letting it rip,
Canuck style,
in Rogers Arena,
just minutes before,
the end of the series,
As for Sunday,
I’m backing the Steelers,
with a tight end victory…
But I’m also willing,
to be completely,
wrong…
Cooler than the flip side of my pillow...
Suprasize me…
Walking with Sengzhao,
fifteen centuries after his death,
through the alpine rhododendron,
larch and whitebark in the Hozameen—
a lovely range of mountains,
not entirely scalped by logging,
bisected by the line between British Columbia and the state of Washington—
this is what I heard:
The feet are the link
between earth and the body. Begin there.
The lungs are the link between body and air.
The hands, the uprooted feet, are the means
of our shaping and grasping. Clasp them.
The eyes are the hands of the head;
its feet the ears.
At least that is as close as I could make it out…
— in Everywhere Being is Dancing by Robert Bringhurst
Being a woman and all,
it sure makes me wonder,
when I hear the voices,
of all of those old hockey players,
in my house…
I feel the pain of their injuries,
the thrill of their winnings,
and the longing when the end of the season,
draws near…
There is really nothing in my history,
that I know of,
which has prepared me for this work,
in my body…
But I’m up for each challenge,
as it comes my way,
and fully willing to do whatever needs to be done,
to create movement…
This morning I woke up from a dream,
where I was searching,
for just the right flavour,
of ice cream,
in the Great Canadian Superstore…
The freezer section was a jumble,
but I knew what I wanted,
and what my children,
would be happy to know I brought home,
just for them…
So I got down on my knees,
and made the necessary efforts…
Finally,
at the very back,
hidden under everything,
I got my hands on what I’d been looking for,
and put in in my basket…
A little girl came walking down the aisle,
pulled me down to her level,
and crawled up onto my lap…
I could feel that I knew her…
We hugged,
and kissed each others cheeks,
in greeting…
Her adopted mother stood beside us watching,
as the little girl asked me,
Do you have a message,
for me,
from my birth mother???
her face all shiny,
with hope…
I said,
Yes I do…
She’s saying that she never wanted to leave you,
but she didn’t have a choice…
She has never stopped missing you,
or loving you…
And even though she isn’t with you,
right now,
she wants you to know that you can connect to her from wherever you are,
whenever you need to…
I put my hand over her little chest…
I asked her,
Can you feel her???
She sat quietly with her little eyes closed,
while I held her brown cheeks in my hands,
and we waited,
together…
I saw a small smile start to creep into the corners of her mouth…
Then her eyes opened,
and looked right into mine,
and I saw that tree,
stripped bare to the bark,
all covered up,
with butterflies…
She whispered,
Thank you…
I said,
And thank you…
You need to know that you can do this on your own,
any time you want…
And no matter what,
because people will try,
with all of their might,
to snuff it out,
don’t ever forget
that this feeling,
is yours,
by right…
Walk me through this world...
High finance…
Good speaking and writing,
Socrates says,
come from one who knows the truth of his subject (260e);
it is devoted to “directing souls,
not only in the law courts but also in private…”
Bad writing,
then,
simply ravishes those whose permeability is without discernment;
it enchants but takes one nowhere:
instead it immobilizes the soul,
robbing a person of eros and its motility,
its epektatic appetite…
— in Thinking and Singing edited by Tim Lilburn
Lately,
I’ve recalled,
a difficult memory,
about a time when,
three six year old boys were sitting around a table,
working on Lego constructions,
and two of them were chanting,
Sexy, sexy, sexy…
The third one pleaded with me,
to make them stop…
This was new experience,
as a teacher…
I’d never heard this word being used in my classroom,
so before I positioned,
my relational authority,
to make them stop,
I exercised a split second decision,
to research,
understanding…
I asked the third little boy,
What does that word mean to you???
He said,
It’s when a girl takes her clothes off,
lays on top of you naked,
and then sexes…
And after he went on,
and on,
with base detail,
about the ins,
and outs,
I wondered,
How do you learn about that?
He said,
Sometimes,
when I’m watching television with my dad,
he changes channels,
and I see people sexing…
I can’t get the pictures out of my head…
I can bring the movie to school if you want to see it…
I told him that this wouldn’t be necessary,
because I could already see his pictures,
and I didn’t want anything to strengthen them…
I told him that I would try to help him,
to see differently,
by offering something real,
and beautiful,
to focus on…
For the rest of our time together,
through that year,
and into the next,
we went,
with all of his classmates,
looking for butterflies,
circles of white light,
and a feeling like your body isn’t there any more,
just by being,
together…
This teachable moment,
which arrived from out of the blue,
to educate me,
led me to wonder,
if his brain seizures,
which erased aspects of his memory,
and affected his ability to concentrate,
may also be,
a blessing in disguise…
As a professional,
my code of conduct prevents me,
from taking parents,
out behind the school,
with my fists,
and spitting out,
things like,
Listen Jack-ass…
There’s no point,
risking loss of license,
or limiting range of service,
in making a difference for children…
But what can be done,
during the conferences,
when Lee Iacocca’s,
burned out mistakes,
enter the parking lot,
is the sending of messages,
including,
but not exclusive to,
You only get one shot at this Bucko,
so smarten up…
Last night,
in the game between the Canucks,
and the Predators,
#57 scored his first NHL goal,
in his first ever NHL game,
to make it a W,
for his team…
The swarm of reporters,
surrounded this young man,
with their typical battery,
of flat,
empty,
questions,
in the locker room,
And with all due respect,
to what was going through his mind,
when he saw the puck go into the net,
he answered,
I scored…
It’s as simple as that…
From the cradle to the grave...
Canuck'd 