Hens n’ chicks…
First,
a Wolf crest princess vanished from an up river village…
She vanished without a trace…
And her clansmen from all the villages loped along the trails,
alert for some sign of her…
They searched the shorelines…
They questioned travelers…
“Have you seen any sign of the Wolf princess???”
they asked the traveling arrowmaker…
He was a strange old man who traveled from place to place with his marvelous arrows…
And though he was tall and as spare as any young paddler,
his face was so wrinkled that he seemed to have lived forever…
— in Mouse Woman and the Vanishing Princesses by Christie Harris
I’m all for anarchy,
and refusing the authority of those who think they’re in the know,
but not when it comes to fiddling with something so small,
and so powerful,
it can dump gallons of water into your mainframe,
within seconds…
In such cases I encourage immediate consultation,
with an expert…
FYI:
the heads of in house sprinkler systems are not for hanging up clothes,
or balloons,
or anything else…
They’re for putting out fires…
And if one of them in your house,
or apartment,
or condo,
starts to drip,
DO NOT take matters into your own hands,
and try to fix it yourself…
Or you could end up spending two months in another jurisdiction,
until the proper repairs are made,
by a certified restoration company…
Except for,
if that hadn’t happened to someone whom I know,
I wouldn’t have received the gift of a visit with a green-eyed cat,
who sneaks up my wooden staircase in the night,
kneads my belly with his paws,
runs his motor like a panther in pure ecstasy,
and moves around my house like a stealth bomber…
The other day Little Gem, Starshine and I were in our big red car,
on our way to the beach…
And I was asked why I had my Fm dial tuned into JR Country…
I said,
Omigod!!!!
Are you kidding me???!!!!
Listen to this stuff…
It’s classic…
There are only so many stations where you can go from crying to laughing,
when you went for one and stayed ’til 2…
Little Gem belted it,
eyes closed,
from her back seat booster,
Yeah, I’m pretty good at drinking beer…
Country music is a staple…
It’s the bread,
and butter,
of the playing man,
the writing woman,
and the singing team…
Simple,
and basic,
as swan bones…
Sometimes it’s all I can do,
not to turn my 18 wheeler around,
and head straight for Nashville,
because you look good in my shirt,
when I haven’t written the song yet,
and I can’t even play guitar…
Three years ago I was caught up,
in a major cranial-sacral session…
In one sequence of experience,
I felt a hook right near my heart,
pulling my rib cage,
up into the air,
right off the table…
The practitioner asked me,
Are you going to fight,
or are you going to trust it,
and go???
Due to conditioning,
it took thirty minutes or so,
with a ton of pressure,
for my head to get in line with my heart…
But once you’re on board,
for the long haul,
well leavin’ just ain’t an option…
Blame it on the hat,
those boots,
and the lure of that two-step…
Mr. Bluebird on my shoulder... (staging and photo: Little Gem)
Pressure system…
As you touch the lace scarves you notice a gentle halo lightly framing the stitches,
adding a dimension of luxury not quite like anything you’ve ever seen…
Softer than merino,
finer than cashmere,
lighter than silk,
the fiber you are touching is qiviut,
the down of a musk ox…
— in Arctic Lace by Donna Druchunas
Four years ago I had to make the decision,
to euthanize my dog…
What started out as a cough,
and a persistent gag reflex,
the year before,
turned into laryngeal paralysis,
and anxiety attacks,
precipitated by the anticipation of separation,
from me…
It wasn’t an easy decision to make,
or to convince others that it was necessary,
and urgent,
as every attack,
was an experience of suffocation,
and had the potential to kill…
When your dog is telling you he’s done what he came here to do,
in his fur suit,
and now it’s time to go,
and he wants you to remember him big,
and strong,
you have to listen,
and help move things along,
in any way you can…
It isn’t optional…
It’s part of the agreement,
made in another place and time…
A couple of years ago my mother showed up on my front porch,
without a standing,
open,
invitation…
Bringing a stranger along for leverage…
She told me,
all coiled up and hissing,
This is Doris…
Oma’s old neighbour…
I want you in my life…
And I want you to bring the girls out to see me before Doris goes back,
to Germany…
You have until next week…
I’ve met Doris twice at the most,
on the way up the stairs to my Oma’s apartment,
ten or twenty years ago,
in the province of Swabia…
My children have no interest in duty,
or obligatory visits,
and I’ve made a pact with myself never to force them,
into anything—
even a walk in the woods…
My mother is a very smart woman…
She’s always had my number,
and known exactly which tapes,
to play with me,
to get what she wants…
My new formula,
with dander control,
took her by surprise…
Doris got the message immediately…
She knew she’d never see me again,
and I didn’t have to say a word…
It hasn’t been easy,
but after decades of being told that I am the one who needs help—
that she and I would have a better relationship,
if I improved myself—
because I have issues that need eliminating,
I finally found my voice,
to say,
I’m sorry,
but I am no longer available,
for feeding…
People don’t like it when you pinch the oxygen line,
and make moves to cut off the supply…
It can make them crazy…
But if you’ve been able,
to birth a child,
or two,
right out of your body,
you sure as hell,
should be able to breathe on your own…
Some people clearly need to be shocked into it,
by the unexpected…
People argue about which came first,
the chicken or the egg…
But when it comes to the umbilical cord,
there’s a reason why it runs from the placenta to the baby,
and not the other way around—
taking what was never yours…
It is my belief that we choose how we come in,
and we choose how we go out…
We can drag it on,
and make others suffer along with us,
or we can be a joy,
to behold,
even on our deathbed…
I used to attend an Iyengar yoga class in my neighbourhood…
After a lifetime of healthy living,
and breathing from the belly,
the teacher died of a brain tumor…
I didn’t witness any of the stages of her passing,
but what I heard from those who did,
is that she was a teacher until the very end…
Even with a terminal sentence,
she set an example,
for her people,
in how to live,
and how to die,
with grace…
I spent the morning at Starshine and Little Gem’s school,
helping out with the Terry Fox Run…
While the primary children were doing their warm-up exercises,
to happy,
shiny music,
before running circles around the field,
a mother,
who I barely know,
came to stand beside me…
She said,
This always makes me cry…
It’s the purity of their hearts that gets me,
every time…
And you’re the only one I can tell…
Then after she’d had her little cry,
behind her large sunglasses,
she turned to me,
said,
Thank you for being there for me,
and joined in on the jumping jacks….
We finally found a moment to call our own...
Thumb screws…
Little Red Riding Hood went outside…
She gathered up some big stones and filled the wolf’s stomach with them…
When he woke he tried to run away,
but the stones were so heavy that he fell down and died…
The hunter skinned the wolf and took home the fur…
Grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine that Little Red Riding Hood had brought,
and soon she was well again…
As for Little Red Riding Hood,
she said to herself,
“Never again will I leave the path and go into the forest,
when my mother has told me not to…”
— in Little Red Riding Hood by Mireille Levert
This morning,
when I broke out of the house,
and stepped into the hot sun,
after last nights heavy down pour,
the air felt like an outdoor sauna…
On my way to the store,
for a 12 oz. decaf latte,
and some shrimp cakes,
I ran into a neighbour,
who has also fallen in love with flamenco…
She’s a super shy one,
but after seeing me prance,
by her house,
in my ruffled skirts,
on my way to class,
she heard her own call,
and three months later I watched her on stage,
holding her own…
Last month she told me,
I’m leaving nursing…
I’ve had enough…
And after more than twenty years in the field,
I know it’s not where I’m supposed to be…
I gave her a big hug,
of congratulations,
and I told her I was proud of her…
I told her,
I know it’s hard to go to the beat of your own drum,
but you have to…
Or it will kill you…
She said,
Thank you…
I know this is the right thing for me to do,
but other people aren’t so sure…
They have doubts about my decision…
Then she told me how her daughter was in her own struggle,
two years out of high school…
She had always been so clear about what she’d wanted to do,
and now she’s in a state of confusion,
and worried about,
What is Dad going to think???
Her mom told her,
You can’t worry about what other people think…
Just take some time off from school,
find a job so you can get out of your living situation,
which is no longer working for you,
and try to trust that when you give yourself some space,
what wants to,
will come…
I told my neighbour,
What you are doing in your own life,
making your own big change,
gives your children a different standard to look to…
And that,
on top of food,
shelter,
and love,
is part of our responsibility,
as parents…
Even though we’re about the same age,
my neighbour has been parenting ten years longer than I have…
She knows these things…
I don’t need to tell her…
But sometimes,
even when we know,
it helps if someone puts our thoughts out on the table,
for everyone else to see…
Today she told me that her husband is starting to come around to her decision…
I said,
He’s probably been concerned because when he sees the courage you have,
to make a big change,
like you’re doing,
it forces him to have to look at himself…
It should be no surprise that this man,
who is also my neighbour,
has health issues,
with his heart…
I can feel them from a distance,
and close up,
when I pass by him,
packing up his dirt bike,
for his warrior weekends,
on the back roads,
of our home and native land…
A heart that has been silenced,
day after day,
for forty-two years,
and more,
can’t do it’s job,
pumping bad blood around,
forever…
Arrhythmia ain’t just a river in Egypt,
or so the saying goes…
Lower back pain,
is a hole other story…
And it often comes from trying to prove yourself to be,
something that you’re not,
to someone else…
Don’t get me started on the prostate…
Some territory is too foreign,
and a rigid world can only handle so much rocking,
at a time…
When people ask me,
Do you have any interest in going back to teaching???
My answer is emphatic…
If I didn’t have such a fear of speed,
and an aversion to noise,
I’d give Formula 1 racing in Volvo V70’s a good go,
or work out over a drum kit,
in some Canucks’ gonch…
But when you see young children,
being pushed in strollers,
by their parents,
in the dampness of a rainstorm,
at dusk,
leaning out to look at you,
waving hello,
and tracing the path of infinity,
with their eyes,
at intersections,
as you sit in your big red car,
you have to listen to what they are trying to tell you,
and what they are asking you to say,
for them…
People like to tell me,
what they think I should be doing,
and who I should be talking to…
That they have strong hunches I should be looking this way,
and that…
Wondering if I’m getting all my applications in…
Believe me,
I’ve been applying myself,
24/7/365,
and then some…
It’s just that the cheques haven’t been put in the mail…
My father has always told me,
We need to keep talking…
Among other things,
my father is obsessed with his heart rate…
He takes his blood pressure several times a day,
and can’t figure out why,
being so athletic,
and physically fit,
he has high-blood pressure…
He also can’t figure out why,
even when I’m pregnant,
and stressed to the max,
my blood pressure stays steady…
Or why when he’s around me,
his settles and moves into sync with mine,
and his anxiety,
drops off…
I don’t have a rational explanation for it either,
or any reason,
but in response to his request that he and I keep talking,
I sent him an e-mail,
saying that I no longer talk for free…
And I’m no longer open to advice,
from anyone outside of myself…
There’s an ice hotel in Sweden,
where Japanese couples go to make love,
under the aurora borealis,
when they want to conceive a boy…
But before they say to each other,
Dance with me,
they wear fur suits,
and drink vodka,
12,000 years in the making…
This makes me think,
that some people really know how to live…
Little Gem asked me,
when I played a song of photographs,
Mama,
is everything okay with you???
You’re listening to weird music…
I told her,
I’m perfectly fine,
I’ve just got a fever of 103…
And for some,
my running temperature,
is simply,
too hot to handle…
In the bushes and the hedges...
Canuck'd 