Insider information…
Over the years the woman taught the villagers to hunt the bears only when necessary,
and to do so with deep reverence…
She was happy to be sharing what she had learned,
but she felt out of place,
and so did her children…
She often caught herself growling softly,
and craving raw salmon…
— in The Woman Who Married a Bear retold by Elizabeth James…
Some people have near death experiences,
and they know they’ve had them,
because family stories,
and other things,
keep the memories alive…
Other people,
have near death experiences,
that are locked away in cell structures,
and family secrets…
It takes a different kind,
of reality check,
to find these stories,
and bring them out into the light,
for holding,
and letting go…
I worked with a boy whom,
I was told,
had anger issues…
He was part of a group of boys,
who came together,
in Kindergarten,
and then headed my way,
for grade one…
Cantonese was their first language,
and Lego was their second,
but the dominant discourse insisted,
they lose their mother tongue,
and speak English…
I battled with them…
I battled with myself…
And then I went along with what I couldn’t control,
and asked the school custodian to translate,
the riches of their guy talk…
The boy with anger issues would lean against me,
like an almond-eyed cat,
with all his weight,
as he shared the details of his spaceships,
and fighter planes…
His mother once told me,
out in the parking lot,
I never wanted to get married,
or have children…
And I certainly never wanted boys…
I’ve done everything in my life,
for outside expectations…
I didn’t judge her,
because I knew where she was coming from…
I also know we’re all doing the best we can,
to keep our heads,
above water,
in the river,
as the earth below our feet,
is dug out from under us,
by culture…
And from snap shots,
of revelations,
I saw what bound this woman,
and her two boys,
up with me…
When we’re not wanted,
right from the beginning,
we smell it,
and feel it,
in each other,
from one hundred miles away…
It doesn’t matter in which life,
the not wanting happened,
it just keeps re-playing itself,
until we write a different story,
for ourselves,
and our people…
The younger brother came into my class four years later,
and due to prior knowledge,
and experiences,
I was already primed,
for his magic,
as we pulled it out of the hat,
ahead of all those white rabbits…
This little boy wasn’t content with leaning…
He would climb right onto my lap,
and pull the arms hanging down,
by my side,
around him,
tight,
as he showed me his battleships,
and submarines,
combined from colourful cubes,
which connect…
Me always longing for another adult in the room,
to bear witness,
to the contact,
of creative license…
I remember the day,
when things spun out of control,
due to the surprise viewing of a classmate’s panties,
at circle time,
and how the only idea that would fly,
was my request for them to draw their brains,
dying of laughter…
All of them chomping at the bit,
to show what they felt in their grey matter,
when it bubbled with excitement,
and bliss…
Mapping out pre-frontal cortex,
on over size,
construction paper…
As an educator,
and citizen of the world,
bridge building,
before I have all of the pieces,
to complete the span,
is an on-going practice of synthesis,
and suspension…
I used every chance,
I got,
to make it my business,
to tell the mother,
of those two boys,
all the gifts I could see in each one of them…
I found specific examples,
stories,
and picture evidence…
She always looked at me,
with doubt by the truckload,
and said,
You tell me how good my children are…
But it seems that all of the other mothers,
are waiting for any opportunity to see me,
and report the complete opposite…
I really don’t know who to believe…
I told her about jealousy,
and envy,
and female competition…
And as she looked into my kaleidoscope eyes,
I pulled her right into my heart,
and said,
I’ve put a spell on you…
And this one’s not made to be broken…
When I’m working… (photo: Starshine)
Puss n’ boots…
He speaks again softly…
I can’t make out the words,
nor do I want to…
He cries,
and in it I hear the fear of his loneliness…
I lean down into the ground and hug this presence that has joined us,
hug Elijah like a baby in my arms,
holding on as long as I can before I must let go…
The matatosowin goes still…
Over the murmur of the hot stones Nephew whispers goodbye to his friend,
and then it is just the two of us here once again…
— in Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden
Winter soccer season is upon us,
and Starshine is in her second year of it…
She told me,
after her first meeting with her new team,
Mama,
I just want to thank you ahead of time,
for driving me to my practices,
and all of my games…
And getting up to be on the field with me,
at 7:45 on a Sunday morning,
because I know how much you love to sleep in…
I really think this is going to be MY team…
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,
contrast is critical for learning…
It helps us develop the skill and practice of discernment…
And this team is a whole other world from what I witnessed last year,
right from the start…
The coach is serious,
and he makes all the girls show up,
on time,
prepared to perform,
as he says,
Each with your own skill…
I had to laugh,
out loud,
in the sunshine,
when I heard him speak to the future,
with a frustration,
mirroring my own,
Girls,
at next practice,
we’re going to work on listening…
Starshine isn’t built for speed,
but she’s growing her endurance,
and with her size,
she’s the Georges Laraque of U12 girls soccer…
This past Sunday morning I saw players on the opposing team,
trip,
and flip themselves,
as they met up with a leg,
she’d planted in defence…
I’ve always told her,
one day you’re going to know why you were given the body you have,
thanks to your grampa…
And one day,
you’re going to meet someone with the same size feet as you,
and you’re going to get her great shoes when she hands them down…
This made her smile,
and hope…
When Starshine thinks she’s hurt someone,
on the field,
she cries,
for her own pain,
for the pain of the injured player,
for the adult reactions,
and for the invisible she feels,
on the sidelines,
all at once…
That is a huge charge to compress,
and load through your wiring,
grounding the information in the here and now,
for the good of the whole…
I’m not speaking from theory,
I’m speaking from my own experience…
Yesterday,
when I dropped her off at practice,
some of the other mothers were talking about how Starshine did not give up,
at the game on Sunday…
They said,
She never stopped moving,
and she watches everything…
She can see possibilities of how things are going to play themselves out…
They wanted to know if she was okay after the game,
because she had cried…
I told them,
She was fine…
She tells me after every practice,
and game,
how much she loves playing soccer…
But she still doesn’t know what it means,
when she’s been told she played well,
or what she’s done that was good…
And I don’t know enough about the game,
and what she’s doing to tell her…
But what I do know is that the feeling work she’s doing,
and amplifying out there,
is equally important…
And until I grow my knowledge about this game,
that way of being in the world,
is where I direct my encouragement…
The two moms said,
She’s a girl…
That’s how girls are…
I said,
Boys are like that too…
They disagreed,
emphatically,
and across the board…
I watched the field around me,
with a husband or two,
the coach tying up his cleats,
and I chose not to mention the war…
One thing I have been very pleased about,
in this,
and last season’s Battle of the Blades,
is that the retired hockey players,
participating in this marriage of two sports,
that have historically set themselves up,
to oppose each other,
don’t ask to have their vulnerability,
and sensitivity,
edited out,
of interviews,
for the sake of perpetuating stereotypes…
I’ve been judged and criticized,
for my tears,
since I was a baby…
Being a girl wasn’t a good enough reason,
for crying,
and considered a sign of weakness,
in an adult world,
that orients itself,
on the false center of suppression…
The equipment required,
to measure the strength,
and courage it takes,
to open up the faucet,
as a middle-aged man,
on national television,
when you’ve been known,
in the big leagues,
as an enforcer,
has been here since the dawn of time…
Long before the opening of the first academy…
And poetry is the word for it…
There’s a song I heard today,
on JR Country,
about how tequila makes her clothes,
fall off…
My recipe for undressing the defense,
is a tumbler full of love,
trust,
patience,
and respect…
All served up on the rocks…
I heard Starshine’s coach,
lament about how the rain had put him two steps back,
and he was hopefully going to be spending his weekend,
not watching football,
but finishing up the deck…
Another dad asked him if he was going membrane…
A mom said,
Let’s leave them to their guy talk…
I didn’t want to leave them to their guy talk,
because I’m equally interested in
permeability,
layers of separation,
protection,
and pericardial memory…
Looks like we made it... (artwork by Kanishka)
Activity theory…
Xavier twitches and moans in his sleep…
I arranged it so his head lies back in the canoe,
his head on his pack…
I found him in the morning on the beach,
shivering and half-conscious…
What happened over there had wrecked him…
He thinks I don’t see him putting those needles in his arm…
They are a part of what’s killing him…
But something far worse is consuming him from the inside…
It’s this that I must figure out how to remove…
I wish it were simply a matter of finding the right root in the bush…
This is a sickness I’ve not had to face before…
— in Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden
Some people are terrified of change…
I’m more terrified of staying the same…
This morning,
as I was washing up last night’s dishes,
and Starshine was eating her Cheerios,
she asked me,
So Mama,
what are you going to do today???
I watched my Protestant work ethic,
and noticed that the trigger was slighter than in the past…
In the past,
when I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy my summer holidays,
as a teacher,
because I allowed the begrudgement
and pressure of others,
to get to me,
with their,
You’re so lucky,
to have all of that time off…
Anyone who thinks a public school teacher is lucky,
to have all of that time off,
should spend just one morning in a classroom,
without an educational assistant,
or time alone on the throne,
right around 10:15 am,
after your second coffee….
You think I’m joking,
but I’m dead serious…
One of the first things I’m going to tell my staff,
when I am a principal,
is this,
The very second you feel like number two is about,
to knock at the door,
send a runner,
with a happy face sticker,
and I’ll be there…
No questions asked…
And there’s a treat in my office,
for after you’ve experienced success…
You might think that now,
I’m just goofing around…
But I’m not…
I have a clear agenda,
to create movement,
and I’m not afraid to use it…
I’ve heard people without a clue,
make assumptions,
I taught music lessons,
twenty years ago,
for a school district,
in downtown Toronto…
I’m just not willing to go back to school,
to get qualified for what I already know I can do…
Other people see the light,
and say,
Over my dead body…
I know there’s nothing more challenging than teaching and learning,
with other people’s children…
I can barely handle my own…
And I just can’t go with the flow…
I’ll leave it to the people who love that kind of work…
I started to list off all of the things I was intending to do today,
telling my daughter about all of the ways I could busy myself,
for the sake of appearances,
until she got home from school…
But I remembered who I was talking to,
and that I have a responsibility to walk a little straighter…
I told her,
I think I’ll put out some catnip,
lay on the couch,
and watch Mr. Mouser…
When an animal,
or anyone else for that matter,
comes into your field,
you are being offered an opportunity,
to look in the mirror…
It’s up to you to open your eyes,
and to be willing to see the projection,
of the image…
I have major issues with confinement,
and being held back,
for my own good,
and other people’s convenience…
I have watched myself,
pace,
rear,
and come undone,
like a corralled stallion…
I also know I have an exceptional capacity to sit,
in peace,
and quiet,
when left to my own devices,
and given the space to run with them…
This cat guest,
is one and the same…
He’s an apartment cat,
but in my house,
he can hear the sounds of cats fighting,
and mating…
He sees the trees,
full of birds…
He can smell that big old world out there,
and he wants a piece of it,
come hell or high water…
But for now,
we stay in the house,
together,
and apart,
together,
and apart,
following the rhythm of the day…
Each for our own intents,
and purposes,
because I haven’t been given,
the permission,
to see where he wants to go,
and where life wants to take him…
I love it when people tell me,
I don’t want to control you…
I just want you to be happy…
If that were the truth,
this oxymoron wouldn’t need to be said,
it would just be happening…
Last week,
at the Terry Fox Run,
a parent approached me,
with some hesitation…
But maybe I’m projecting…
Our paths have crossed many times over the last seven years,
as our children attended the same day care,
and are now at the same school…
I really didn’t want to go there,
but he started talking about his job search,
and how driving his youngest son to daycare,
and back,
made for a short day of searching…
I said,
Maybe nothing is exactly what you’re supposed to be doing right now…
I saw his panic,
because I recognized it from my own…
He said,
Oh, I have to get a job,
I can’t be off for one,
or two,
or more years…
He held himself back from saying,
Like you…
And I held myself back from saying,
You think you’re in control here,
but you’re not,
because the message is sinking in somewhere,
just from being around me…
Early yesterday morning,
at the soccer pitch,
in the drizzle of what Starshine calls perfect game weather,
another mother and I stood talking,
as our daughters got in line,
for their team photos…
She told me about the sadness,
and loneliness,
she has experienced,
since she quit her job…
How she’s always worked,
and being at home all day,
is really hard,
for her to relax into…
She knew quitting was the right thing to do…
She couldn’t stand the power hungry,
self-interested CEO,
who took over her high-tech company,
I knew it wasn’t good for me,
or where I was supposed to be…
Her husband is out of work too,
And one of us really needs to be earning,
some income…
I held myself back from saying,
If I got the chance to be at home all day with my husband,
I’d be looking into singing,
and dancing,
and cooking up the business,
as soon as I got the kids off to school,
because she may be a church going woman,
and not everyone is into that kind of prayer…
I told her about my wu wei bootcamp,
and asked her how long she has been,
in her current state,
of unemployment…
She said,
Since June 1…
I said,
all tongue ‘n cheek,
Oh that’s got to be really rough…
She laughed and said,
I guess I’m still a baby in the out of work department…
I said,
Oh Honeychile,
you ain’t even been born yet…
You’s still in the egg…
And I’m willing to hold your hand,
when you need it,
every second Sunday…
Just come,
and stand by me…
There’s a man who paces,
the sidewalk,
in front of my house…
He has his good days,
and his bad days…
Only once has he looked me in the eye,
and said,
Hello…
Most of the time he’s in his own world,
with ropes tied strategically up his pant legs,
and around his waist…
A month or so ago,
he passed by me,
flipped open his old cell phone,
and said something about,
Norwegian Intelligence…
I could tell that he was reading a book,
which has yet to be written…
He just needs someone to hear his story…
Rain falls in real time... (staging and photo: Little Gem)
Canuck'd 