This Christmas Day I was treated to a wonderful feast at the home of my daughter Chaya and all family members were present for the first time in at least 7 years.
Last night on Boxing Day, all alone in my apartment I was reviewing the events of the day before. As with most family gatherings at Christmas, a lot of things come to the fore that need to be addressed and this was no exception.
I found myself getting hungry and since the oven in my stove burned out over the holidays I went out and bought a falafel on Davie Street. It was a cold, clear evening and I wanted to stroll and work off the doldrums that had somehow settled into my psyche that evening.
Chaya had told me she wouldn’t be visiting after her usual Wednesday meeting in the West End last night, but I wasn’t sure and wanted to be alert if she did come.
I walked slowly up Burrard eating my falafel and then depositing the wrapper in a trash can near the bus stop I rounded the corner and walked slowly up Pacific Blvd in the direction of English Bay. I thought I would keep my eye open for the construction of a new pizza place that I thought I had read was moving here, but I could find no evidence of the same.
I had not walked far when I noticed the outline of a young woman dressed in black standing by the sidewalk. The light was very dim here but as I got closer I could see that her dog was squatting nearby, providing me with the reason for her pause in the dark street.
As I passed, the dog finishing its business came up and stood on its hind legs, putting its paws on my legs briefly hindering my progress. The young woman admonished the dog and I went on my way thinking “some people should take better control of their animals.” I was not in a good mood and I wasn’t sure whether the dog was either.
But I had only taken a few steps onward when the dog came scampering up from behind and this time stood straight up in front of me, tapping me determinedly on the chest with its muddy paws and definitely staying my progress.
It was as if a light went on. The dog wanted to play with me.
So I stopped and gave him a hearty petting right there and then and I could now see that he was just a young dog barely beyond the puppy stage and he was honoring this stranger passing in the dark night with the gift of friendship. He could just as easily have growled and threatened me.
The young woman caught up to us admonishing her dog but I responded, “It’s okay. He just wanted to say hello. I should have stopped and petted him the first time.”
As I walked away and passed a streetlight I could see the dog's muddy prints on the front of my coat, but I didn't care. In fact, I felt quite happy about it.
By the time I reached the big tree at English Bay that is always lit up this time of year, I was feeling much better.
The strings of violet, white and blue lights made it look like a vast, ornate candelabra or maybe a chalice and this Christmas it seemed more beautifully decorated than before, the lights more meticulously placed to give the sensation of moving dimension to the passer by.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Christmas Eve Along the Seawall
It is about 4 p.m. on Christmas Eve and I am back from a long walk along Davie Street and down to English Bay.
It is a cold, clear day and from the distance I could see the whitecaps spiking on the dark gray green aquamarine highlighted water of the bay. It occurred to me that it might be very windy down by the water but I needed the exercise as I haven’t been getting much in all the rainy weather lately.
By the time I got down to the Bay I was already invigorated by my walk so far and the smiling faces of folks going about their last minute business before tomorrow’s holiday inspired me to make the most of this weather.
I pulled up the collar of my coat and put on my navy wool watch cap and quickened my steps as I crossed the intersection at Davie and Denman to reach the water.
The seawall was far from crowded but many of the people walking down there had smiles on their faces as it was a truly beautiful afternoon and what a way to spend the day before Christmas!
A middle-aged lone artist in a leather jacket sat sketching on the edge of the seawall, his back to the passers-by in a spot usually populated by other artists displaying their works, but today deserted because of the chill weather. His drawings were laid out side by side face up on the seawall ledge beside him. Most of them were intricate cityscapes with a local flavor.
By the time I reached the waters of the bay opposite the Parks Board offices where Kind Acts hosts their Monday night open mikes in the summer, I could hear and feel the thunderous force of the large surf pounding in. In places the waves were splashing up over the seawall while pedestrians ducked aside to avoid being drenched. I couldn’t help but draw a parallel between this raw activity of nature today and the few huge waves that came in a few days back over an otherwise peaceful bay.
The crash of surf is an unusual sound on this sheltered bay and it was wonderful music to listen to as I walked along breathing in the ocean air and watching a large flock of black waterfowl easily riding the wild surf and forming an undulating crowd of bodies moving in perfect and calm sympathy with the force of the ocean.
I thought of my sister Marilyn at home in Edmonton and of the times she has joined me along this route on her visits and of how much she would enjoy this day.
She often reminds me how lucky I am to live in such a picturesque part of Canada, where a teeming metropolis meets nature in such a simple and magnificent way that I too often take for granted.
It is a cold, clear day and from the distance I could see the whitecaps spiking on the dark gray green aquamarine highlighted water of the bay. It occurred to me that it might be very windy down by the water but I needed the exercise as I haven’t been getting much in all the rainy weather lately.
By the time I got down to the Bay I was already invigorated by my walk so far and the smiling faces of folks going about their last minute business before tomorrow’s holiday inspired me to make the most of this weather.
I pulled up the collar of my coat and put on my navy wool watch cap and quickened my steps as I crossed the intersection at Davie and Denman to reach the water.
The seawall was far from crowded but many of the people walking down there had smiles on their faces as it was a truly beautiful afternoon and what a way to spend the day before Christmas!
A middle-aged lone artist in a leather jacket sat sketching on the edge of the seawall, his back to the passers-by in a spot usually populated by other artists displaying their works, but today deserted because of the chill weather. His drawings were laid out side by side face up on the seawall ledge beside him. Most of them were intricate cityscapes with a local flavor.
By the time I reached the waters of the bay opposite the Parks Board offices where Kind Acts hosts their Monday night open mikes in the summer, I could hear and feel the thunderous force of the large surf pounding in. In places the waves were splashing up over the seawall while pedestrians ducked aside to avoid being drenched. I couldn’t help but draw a parallel between this raw activity of nature today and the few huge waves that came in a few days back over an otherwise peaceful bay.
The crash of surf is an unusual sound on this sheltered bay and it was wonderful music to listen to as I walked along breathing in the ocean air and watching a large flock of black waterfowl easily riding the wild surf and forming an undulating crowd of bodies moving in perfect and calm sympathy with the force of the ocean.
I thought of my sister Marilyn at home in Edmonton and of the times she has joined me along this route on her visits and of how much she would enjoy this day.
She often reminds me how lucky I am to live in such a picturesque part of Canada, where a teeming metropolis meets nature in such a simple and magnificent way that I too often take for granted.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
After the Solstice
It is Sunday morning and two days after the solstice the sky is slate gray and the rain still drizzling steadily.
All is quiet here this morning except for a few brief slammings of the neighbor’s door as he exits the apartment, a daily ritual but one that does not really disturb as he has shown me great respect in keeping the volume of his music down after I asked him to a few weeks ago.
"Well what kind of music do you like?" he countered.
"That's not the point," I replied, " I like all kinds but I don't want to hear it through my walls." I guess the penny dropped and he has been very pleasant to me ever since too.
My window ledges are soaked which means that I will be leaving with an open umbrella this morning, but there doesn’t appear to be any wind.
I opened the window to test the temperature and although it’s cold it’s not freezing and that gives me hope for a comfortable walk into work.
A few days back the holiday was looking fairly bleak due to ongoing difficulties experienced by several family members, but in the last two days I have received messages from them that give me a new hope.
As the days begin to increase in length and more light enters into them, may more light also enter into hearts and minds of those I love and help in the healing we all need so much.
This is after all the approach of the Holy Season, when the world comes to a slow stop, a brief pause, maybe a moment of prayer and the giving of gifts and blessings and in the rhythm of a heartbeat everything begins anew.
All is quiet here this morning except for a few brief slammings of the neighbor’s door as he exits the apartment, a daily ritual but one that does not really disturb as he has shown me great respect in keeping the volume of his music down after I asked him to a few weeks ago.
"Well what kind of music do you like?" he countered.
"That's not the point," I replied, " I like all kinds but I don't want to hear it through my walls." I guess the penny dropped and he has been very pleasant to me ever since too.
My window ledges are soaked which means that I will be leaving with an open umbrella this morning, but there doesn’t appear to be any wind.
I opened the window to test the temperature and although it’s cold it’s not freezing and that gives me hope for a comfortable walk into work.
A few days back the holiday was looking fairly bleak due to ongoing difficulties experienced by several family members, but in the last two days I have received messages from them that give me a new hope.
As the days begin to increase in length and more light enters into them, may more light also enter into hearts and minds of those I love and help in the healing we all need so much.
This is after all the approach of the Holy Season, when the world comes to a slow stop, a brief pause, maybe a moment of prayer and the giving of gifts and blessings and in the rhythm of a heartbeat everything begins anew.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
The Very Edge of the World
I had been looking forward to this morning for the last few days as my daughter Chaya was going to meet me for breakfast.
Chaya surprised me by showing about 15 minutes early. She was in a great mood and the first thing we did was to walk up to the dollar store where she purchased some containers for her Christmas baking (gifts) and a few decorations. She told me that she has changed her mind about "not doing Christmas" this year and is going to put up a tree.
Immediately I thought about how much this will mean to Kadir.
We walked up Davie towards the beach and tried out the little restaurant called The Red Umbrella that I pass so often but have never visited. She had sausages and eggs and I ordered a single blueberry pancake and a fruit cup.
She wound up sharing mine too, at my invitation. It was great food, tasting very homemade and at a good price.
Afterwards we walked back home along the seawall. She headed home to start baking and after checking mail I went back towards Safeway to do my grocery shopping. It had started to rain when Chaya left but by the time I got back to English Bay the sun had re-appeared and so I took the opportunity to stroll up to 2nd Beach and get in a bit of exercise.
Along the way I saw two elderly men talking, or rather one holding court and the other listening with an over-polite, and rather conciliatory expression on his face. The one talking said, “If you dig a deep enough hole, you can bury anything.”
I often wonder at these out of the blue enigmatic "messages from the universe".
The water was calm and serene and it felt peaceful to look out at the horizon as I walked, but on my return along an especially smooth stretch of sandy beach I paused to admire the way the water touched and spread over the sand.
I was engrossed in the tactile look and feel of sea caressing shore when I heard the unexpected crash of surf behind me and noticed that there were several large waves arcing in which I assumed was the result of a wake of a recently passing freighter.
The surf subsided and as I walked further I was startled and awakened by even heavier surges hitting the beach I had just passed.
I stopped again to study the surface of the water and a few huge waves, seemingly out of nowhere, crashed into the seawall where I stood and splashed up over the seawall so that I had to jump back to avoid being soaked.
This activity continued for several more minutes as I stood and watched. There was a young woman standing by a bench a few steps away, talking to someone on her cell phone and she was yanked from that ho-hum ritual by this sudden activity of nature and I heard her say, “What’s with these fucking big waves?” My sentiments fairly exactly!
As I stood there I had an inkling of what it must feel like to be caught in a tsunami. I thought maybe this was a mini tsunami and still feel that this may have been the case.
For a few brief moments I was reminded how it must feel to stand at the very edge of the world.
Chaya surprised me by showing about 15 minutes early. She was in a great mood and the first thing we did was to walk up to the dollar store where she purchased some containers for her Christmas baking (gifts) and a few decorations. She told me that she has changed her mind about "not doing Christmas" this year and is going to put up a tree.
Immediately I thought about how much this will mean to Kadir.
We walked up Davie towards the beach and tried out the little restaurant called The Red Umbrella that I pass so often but have never visited. She had sausages and eggs and I ordered a single blueberry pancake and a fruit cup.
She wound up sharing mine too, at my invitation. It was great food, tasting very homemade and at a good price.
Afterwards we walked back home along the seawall. She headed home to start baking and after checking mail I went back towards Safeway to do my grocery shopping. It had started to rain when Chaya left but by the time I got back to English Bay the sun had re-appeared and so I took the opportunity to stroll up to 2nd Beach and get in a bit of exercise.
Along the way I saw two elderly men talking, or rather one holding court and the other listening with an over-polite, and rather conciliatory expression on his face. The one talking said, “If you dig a deep enough hole, you can bury anything.”
I often wonder at these out of the blue enigmatic "messages from the universe".
The water was calm and serene and it felt peaceful to look out at the horizon as I walked, but on my return along an especially smooth stretch of sandy beach I paused to admire the way the water touched and spread over the sand.
I was engrossed in the tactile look and feel of sea caressing shore when I heard the unexpected crash of surf behind me and noticed that there were several large waves arcing in which I assumed was the result of a wake of a recently passing freighter.
The surf subsided and as I walked further I was startled and awakened by even heavier surges hitting the beach I had just passed.
I stopped again to study the surface of the water and a few huge waves, seemingly out of nowhere, crashed into the seawall where I stood and splashed up over the seawall so that I had to jump back to avoid being soaked.
This activity continued for several more minutes as I stood and watched. There was a young woman standing by a bench a few steps away, talking to someone on her cell phone and she was yanked from that ho-hum ritual by this sudden activity of nature and I heard her say, “What’s with these fucking big waves?” My sentiments fairly exactly!
As I stood there I had an inkling of what it must feel like to be caught in a tsunami. I thought maybe this was a mini tsunami and still feel that this may have been the case.
For a few brief moments I was reminded how it must feel to stand at the very edge of the world.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Sultan of the Heart
My friend Majid sent me a link to the live Sema from Konya this morning and I am listening to the ceremony on line as I write this.
The sweet sound of the flute and the beginnings of zikr as the chorus joins in is holy music to my ears this snowy Sunday morning.
The snow is funneling down in huge wet flakes this morning but is supposed to turn to rain by noon or thereabouts. I am in my apartment preparing to leave for work but part of me is in another country, another world transported by the music I am hearing, swept up in these elegant devotions that are so ancient.
This year is said to be Rumi’s 800th anniversary and celebrations are still going on all over the globe to honor this famous “Sultan of the Heart”, mystic and poet and author of the Masnavi, a collection of his writings that are the holy book of many in the world these days as his name has now become known to so many.
Thanks to Majid and some other friends of the heart I have had the honor of joining in the musical assembly gathered for the sema and have experienced the whirling dance from the perspective of a musician playing for the semazens (dervishes).
This music brings me back into the sacred circle of praise and joy.
To listen, click on the link below:
http://www.semazen.net/news_detail.php?id=646
The sweet sound of the flute and the beginnings of zikr as the chorus joins in is holy music to my ears this snowy Sunday morning.
The snow is funneling down in huge wet flakes this morning but is supposed to turn to rain by noon or thereabouts. I am in my apartment preparing to leave for work but part of me is in another country, another world transported by the music I am hearing, swept up in these elegant devotions that are so ancient.
This year is said to be Rumi’s 800th anniversary and celebrations are still going on all over the globe to honor this famous “Sultan of the Heart”, mystic and poet and author of the Masnavi, a collection of his writings that are the holy book of many in the world these days as his name has now become known to so many.
Thanks to Majid and some other friends of the heart I have had the honor of joining in the musical assembly gathered for the sema and have experienced the whirling dance from the perspective of a musician playing for the semazens (dervishes).
This music brings me back into the sacred circle of praise and joy.
To listen, click on the link below:
http://www.semazen.net/news_detail.php?id=646
Saturday, December 01, 2007
New Snow
It is December 1st and an appropriate morning to wake up to slowly drifting big lazy snowflakes moving past my window.
I opened the window wide to get a breath of the bracing frosty air and saw that the lane, street and trees were blanketed in white.
This is the first snow of the season for us in this area of town so near the water though the mountains have been dusted in fresh white powder for several weeks now.
In memory I can hear the voices of my children over the years on just such mornings shouting, "Dad, let's go out and make a snowman!" And me mulling over coffee and reluctant to go out into the cold but doing so anyway after several such promptings.
It all happens so quickly, and is over so quickly...these precious happenings with children.
I won't be rushing out to make a snowman today, but walking along the snowy street on my way to work. I can already feel the brush of snow against my face and magical sensation of becoming a child once again in the new snowy landscape.
There is something about the first snow of the year that is reminiscent of spring and new beginnings, I guess it has to do with the stark contrast between the two seasons.
But today (and yesterday too for some reason) I feel full of positive strength and have the feeling that all will be well this winter.
I wrapped up more than a few loose ends in the past days and had a wonderful meeting with my son Ky in which we discussed the options of a young man growing into manhood. He honored me by trusting me and opening up some of the feelings that are causing him concern.
In doing so, he imparted to me some of the wisdom of youth, stuff I have largely forgotten in the past few years mostly around the nobility of setting out into that vast unknown of adult life.
Never mind climbing Everest...life itself is the great challenge and how to trust one's instincts in the face of what one has never done or seen.
As I walk to work this morning in the new clean snow, I will think of myself as an adventurer into the unknown and imagine the day opening into exciting challenges and new possibilities that I had not noticed before.
Who is to say that with this new snow, a fresh chapter of my life is not just about to begin?
I opened the window wide to get a breath of the bracing frosty air and saw that the lane, street and trees were blanketed in white.
This is the first snow of the season for us in this area of town so near the water though the mountains have been dusted in fresh white powder for several weeks now.
In memory I can hear the voices of my children over the years on just such mornings shouting, "Dad, let's go out and make a snowman!" And me mulling over coffee and reluctant to go out into the cold but doing so anyway after several such promptings.
It all happens so quickly, and is over so quickly...these precious happenings with children.
I won't be rushing out to make a snowman today, but walking along the snowy street on my way to work. I can already feel the brush of snow against my face and magical sensation of becoming a child once again in the new snowy landscape.
There is something about the first snow of the year that is reminiscent of spring and new beginnings, I guess it has to do with the stark contrast between the two seasons.
But today (and yesterday too for some reason) I feel full of positive strength and have the feeling that all will be well this winter.
I wrapped up more than a few loose ends in the past days and had a wonderful meeting with my son Ky in which we discussed the options of a young man growing into manhood. He honored me by trusting me and opening up some of the feelings that are causing him concern.
In doing so, he imparted to me some of the wisdom of youth, stuff I have largely forgotten in the past few years mostly around the nobility of setting out into that vast unknown of adult life.
Never mind climbing Everest...life itself is the great challenge and how to trust one's instincts in the face of what one has never done or seen.
As I walk to work this morning in the new clean snow, I will think of myself as an adventurer into the unknown and imagine the day opening into exciting challenges and new possibilities that I had not noticed before.
Who is to say that with this new snow, a fresh chapter of my life is not just about to begin?
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