Ears m’gears…
Psiciculture has many other sensuous aspects…
For example,
fish culturists closely observe fish behaviour when they feed the animals,
looking for signs that the fish are swimming sluggishly,
or not feeding as much as they ought to…
Experienced fish culturists develop almost personal relationships,
with their fish populations,
and frequently talk about what the fish tell them —
“I listen to the fish”;
“The fish tell me when they have had enough”…
— in Learning and Expanding with Activity Theory Edited by Annalisa Sannino
These days,
I can’t get enough,
of wheat germ,
and cocktail sauce…
Don’t ask me why,
some things,
are inexplicable,
and it’s best,
not to question them…
Some numbers refuse,
to be crunched,
through,
standard formulation…
I love it when one,
of the walking dead,
knock at my door,
and try to give me advice,
about how I should conduct myself…
Even handing over,
sealed,
manila envelopes,
with implied,
applications…
Speaking from my own experience,
if you’re barely breathing,
and you’re at the stage in life,
where your chest,
is about to sink into your drawers,
you’re on a slippery slope,
to fossilizing…
Right on the spot…
And you’re in no position,
to be pointing fingers,
in any direction,
but right back ‘atcha…
I’ve been going through,
some artifacts…
Reading the bones,
if you will,
as I get my house in order,
for a date with destiny..
And under fire protection,
in a metal box,
I found a card,
with a core message…
A heart,
side by side,
a flower,
drawn,
with blue overhead pen,
on a folded piece,
of magenta,
construction paper…
When I opened it up,
I saw the words,
We support you!!!
Words written,
by a six year old boy,
who signed his name,
across my heart,
as I closed a door,
to make a big change,
from one thing,
completely into another…
People want their lives,
to be different,
and they want to breath in,
all that the world has to offer…
But this requires willingness,
to expand,
into the unknown,
and mighty,
might,
in the gonad department…
And when the woman,
on the front porch,
pushes a wheelbarrow,
in front of herself,
to help carry the load,
of what she is growing,
people just don’t know,
what to do with themselves,
and it makes them all crazy…
The reflection,
of their fears,
and the light,
they can’t see,
for all of the clouds,
in their eyes,
spins up,
the demons,
they have yet,
to befriend…
When we’re so busy,
demanding,
scientific explanations,
for what science doesn’t know,
we fail,
to move past,
the persistent,
string of hypo-crisis,
tying us all together…
I want an answer,
to the question,
Who’s science???
And I wait,
willing,
to polish,
the dust,
and grime,
away,
from mystery,
with my own two hands,
and the shammy,
that says,
Not this time,
you mad men…
And like all of those,
who have come with me,
and before me,
so the story goes…
and the nights are dark but then they pass... (photo: Starshine)
Child support…
Hello,
I am going to tell you what my life should be like…
First of all I would have NO sisters and I would be an only child…
I would have 2 dogs and a horse…
The dogs would be twins named Sam and Holly…
I would have three best friends and we would be like sisters…
We would each have a horse that we would ride every afternoon…
For my tenth birthday,
my friends and I would go to a ranch (in the prairies) for one week…
— in My life without a sister by Starshine, 2009
When I find things,
like this,
in my desk,
I have to laugh,
only because,
I’ve definitely,
been there…
And I know,
that when I bring,
the documentation,
to the table,
for discussion,
Starshine will say,
Mama,
That was from long ago…
It’s so ancient history…
Can we not move on???
Due to how,
I’m constantly,
verbalizing,
my thought processes,
and inner speech,
for the intents,
and purposes,
of teaching,
and learning,
Starshine has no trouble,
admitting,
she has conducted herself,
in ways,
she questions…
And she is the first to say,
at eleven years old,
I can’t believe I did that…
What was I thinking???!
Sometime this past year,
Starshine and I were in review,
about friendship,
and the lines we’ve crossed,
as we live and learn…
She told me,
she’s already taken care,
of trying to right,
some wrongs,
by going back,
and saying,
I am so sorry…
I wondered how her words,
have been received…
She said,
My apologies have generally been accepted…
But I know the people I hurt still don’t trust me,
and I understand why they don’t want to be friends…
You can say sorry all you want,
but it’s your actions that tell the truth…
When children mirror the adult world,
in their schoolyard behaviour,
we only have ourselves to blame…
We can talk up a storm,
about empathy,
but until we uncross,
our wires,
and set,
our internal frequencies,
to a different station,
the signals won’t sync,
to send a clear message…
We don’t always see,
a solid rudder,
watching our parents…
I remember listening,
to my father,
talk about the values,
he’d figured he raised us on…
I searched his pontifications,
for something,
I could hold in my hands,
but the substantive reality,
slipped right through my fingers…
Some people spend,
their whole lives,
bemoaning the fact,
that they never had,
a proper,
father figure…
Dragging a poor me character,
from chapter,
to chapter,
like an anchor,
along rock bottom…
It never occurred to me,
to keep rewinding,
and playing,
the same old tape,
that I always had a father,
who wasn’t convinced,
I was his,
because the story,
brought me right,
back home,
to the exact place,
I need to be…
And look at me,
now I’m fantastic!
My story,
of belonging,
with the warm,
black stones,
of myself,
and my people,
whenever,
and wherever,
we stumbled upon,
each other,
is centred on,
powerful tradition,
and evolving consciousness…
This legend,
I keep,
in my invisible pocket,
continues to,
hold me,
as I float,
down stream,
to deep,
open,
water,
with no more fear,
of drowning…
Mr. Foreverman,
the roofer,
dropped by,
with a full,
glad bag,
for the women,
in my neighbourhood,
who support themselves,
and their families,
by collecting,
empties…
Based on evidence,
prior knowledge,
and gut feelings,
he suspects,
the possibility,
of moisture problems,
in the vaulted ceiling,
of what he calls,
Number 4…
He told me,
not to say,
anything,
so’s not to whip up,
unnecessary panic,
until he can get up,
on the roof,
and feel around,
for rot,
in a game of cards,
that’s never been played,
with a full deck…
A lot of people,
around me,
get off on calamity…
For some,
it’s the only way,
they can be certain,
of a pulse…
So one part of me,
wants to be,
of service,
and tell the world…
But another part,
promised,
to keep a lid on it,
until further notice…
Waiting for,
some light scaffolding,
a couple of monkeys,
and a well-mediated,
dynamic assessment,
to move everyone,
into,
the ultimate zone,
of proximal,
development…
The other evening,
the five of us were watching,
one of our favorite things,
with four paws kneading,
their mother blanket…
And I said,
I can’t wait to drive a pick-up,
with horse power,
out the wazoo…
And I think the cats,
are really looking forward,
to a good roll in the hay…
Starshine wondered,
What colour truck???
I looked at her and said,
What do you think???
And then without a sound,
our nine eyes met,
in the middle of that moment,
and cracked,
a high-voltage,
full-body smile,
for what only they,
could see…
Put it in the ground where the flowers grow... (photo: Starshine)
Owning up…
A screech greeting interrupted Little Fur’s observations…
She smiled up at Crow,
who was one of her best friends…
“Craaak!!! You not coming to Old Ones last night,” Crow scolded,
landing on a low branch so that he could glare at her properly…
“They are so full of angriness…”
Little Fur laughed,
coming to stroke his gleaming black feathers…
“What a bad bird you are to tell such lies…
Trees do not feel anger…”
“They missing you,” he amended sullenly…
“But we were not truly apart,
for the flow of earth magic connected us…”
— in little fur: A Fox Called Sorrow by Isobelle Carmody
I spend a lot of time sitting,
with the situations I find myself in,
wondering how I ever got into them,
in the first place,
and asking what it is they have to teach me…
Yesterday was double-barreled…
In the evening,
I got a call from next door,
checking in to see how I was doing,
after a morning strata meeting,
where I placed a bunch of cards,
on the table,
and was left with,
unfinished business…
What my neighbour said to me,
is this,
I don’t think people really understand,
how hard you’re working to be careful,
with how you say,
what needs to be said,
and accounted for…
It takes a long time for people,
to open up to your style of reasoning,
if they can ever get there at all…
I thanked her,
for sharing her perspective,
and said,
Letting go of pre-determined outcomes,
by holding a space,
for people to move into their maturity,
with grace,
takes deep trust in a bigger picture…
I have to believe that a resolution,
with no compromise,
is possible…
It’s just the way that I am…
And I’m willing to wait for it…
I’ve always wondered how someone,
goes about,
choosing the key player,
from their home team,
whom they not only want to follow,
but are also willing to carry,
on the back,
of their jersey…
Maybe what it is,
which draws us,
to stand behind someone,
is the mirror they hold up,
to ourselves,
and our own struggle,
to find purpose,
in an insane world…
With Kyle Wellwood now in Moscow,
playing for the KHL,
and Ryan Johnson,
nowhere to be seen,
I had to find someone new,
with the Canucks,
to recharge my attention’s momentum,
on hockey,
or it was about to go,
AWOL…
At first I didn’t exactly know,
how to go about it…
So I did the usual,
and centered myself,
in my own research…
After all this practice,
and a few minutes online,
the answer had me by the balls,
in the front seat,
of a purring automobile…
I’m a sucker for a man in armour,
who wears his heart on his sleeve,
and has also been told,
You’re not enough…
When a thirteen year old boy,
in the 1990’s,
is left off the roster,
for a showcase tournament,
in la belle province,
because the parents,
of his team mates,
would otherwise pull,
their financial support,
if he was included,
due to his mixed pedigree,
even when he’s as white,
as a Scotsman,
we know we haven’t,
come very far,
in Canada…
We can preach,
with all the bells and whistles,
about tolerance,
and remembering the fallen ones,
in our public school programs…
But when it comes right down to it,
if tolerance and acceptance,
aren’t practiced,
in the private sector,
of our recreational rooms,
while we’re playing the game of Life,
an old script continues,
right on track,
like a chip off the old block…
When I took on the two cats,
who are living with me,
I had no idea of the level,
of reflection,
I was in for…
I’ve never considered myself,
to be,
a cat person…
But the more I watch them,
and get to know their individuality,
and uniqueness,
and the more they settle in,
relax,
and reveal themselves,
the more complexity I see,
in their shooting stars…
Several times a day,
Little Gem and Starshine,
tell me,
Mama,
when we got home,
on that Sunday afternoon,
from Papa’s,
and we saw the cats walking around,
our house,
we couldn’t believe our eyes…
We love them SO much…
They feel like family…
Starshine tells me what she is learning,
about each cat,
Our girl is calm and wise…
She has a face and eyes like an owl,
taking everything in and trying to make sense,
of what she sees…
Our boy is shy,
and wild at the same time…
Everyday he loses some of his worry,
and his curiosity is contagious…
But my favorite thing,
is how he chooses me at bed time,
and stays with me all night…
It makes me feel safe…
What’s the same about them,
is their hunting expertise…
Have you noticed how they eat all the spiders,
and silver fish aren’t a problem any more???
Any mouse who tries,
to get through the door now,
better enter with caution…
I've been with you such a long time... (photo: Starshine)
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