Whirld Dervish

PNE Centennial with Karen

2010-09-09T11:30:00.000-07:00

What a marvelous day last Saturday with Karen at the PNE. The only fly in the ointment was that Kadir bailed on us.

I took the bus and met Karen out front of the Fair. She said she would be dressed in black and white and when she appeared in front of me at the entrance her face was shining. It was wonderful to spend some time with her although we didn’t do anything we hadn’t done in the past.

The best thing was taking her to see the Centennial Naval/Marine tattoo in the Coliseum which featured the US Marine Pacific “killer” marching band, the British HM Royal Marines which were a seamless texture of perfect musician ship and drilling skills, the HMCS Naden band which brought back memories of my days as a Cadet in HMCS Chippewa band in Winnipeg (where Naden was the summer band camp of choice), a small contingent of WWII veterans who along with a vocalist did a sing-a-long of the greatest hits of the Blitz including “Pack up your troubles” and the “White Cliffs of Dover”.

As far as I am concerned though #1 was that Karen got to see the Seaforth Highlanders Pipe band in all their triumphant regalia, uniforms Karen remembers her dad wearing. They were playing in a single unit with the Vancouver Police Pipe Band and I noticed the British and American musicians watching them from the wings. They are a pretty impressive band on their own.

During the course of the afternoon we shared a single order of the BBQ chicken and potato salad/coleslaw that we’ve eaten at past fairs and also got a bag of mini donuts. At one point we dropped into the beer garden where Karen had a Corona and I a glass of Merlot, but there was a rock band warming up for their set and it was not a relaxing atmosphere. Before we left Karen and I shared a Greek style chicken wrap washed down by a root beer.

At that point after 5 hours we got ready to leave and Kadir finally answered his phone and apologized for bailing on us. I wish he had seen the bands most of all.

Karen still left me in her dust for most of the fair but when she remembered she backtracked to take my arm, probably the closest we have been in years. We took the #4 bus back to Granville before dark where she took the Canada Line home.

I got off the bus with her where we said our goodbyes and from there I began my walk home from the sky train station but I paused before I turned the corner to see her strolling off in the wrong direction. The Canada Line entrance was on the other side of the street. But she wasn’t lost.

She had paused at Birks jewelers to look in the window and light a cigarette and there I left my lovely girl in her white jeans and flip-flops which showed off her pink painted toe nails. She was so kind and gentle to me at the fair, just as she had been when we were first together 30 years ago now.

What a great day!

Lunch with Chaya, Nika and Jerika

2010-06-24T11:30:00.000-07:00

It is a cloudy Thursday morning after a brilliant hot afternoon yesterday, but it was also a day that began like today.

My girls were going to pick me up for a late Father’s Day picnic but as it was cloudy and cool we opted to go to Granville Island where we decided to shop the food booths in the central market.

Chaya was driving as Nika and Jeremy have taken truck #2 off the road to save cash.

We stopped briefly at Chaya’s place near the market, built on the same land where I used to lunch under the trees while working as a courier at Adanac Customs Brokers and where a bird once directed my attention to a silver fountain pen someone had dropped on the ground, a pen that helped fill my journals over the next year or so.

Chaya’s boyfriend’s apartment is a big fancy one overlooking the marina and both the Granville Street and Burrard Street bridges. I visited briefly because she wanted me to see where she lived and she also needed to change clothes from job interview earlier in the day.

The stroll to the market was pleasant as the summer sun had returned and Nika found us a table near the main busker’s stage while Chaya and I brought back the lunch. Mexi-style steamed burritos and root beer!

The busker was talented and the music was pleasant and Latin flavored, a perfect accompaniment to our quasi-Mexican meal and by this time baby Jerika had woken in her stroller and was looking around at the beautiful summer colors and shapes. We were sitting under a small leafy green tree and the baby was looking up through them towards the sky.

I tried to talk to baby, but she was not paying any attention at all to the distraction coming from my side of the table. Her wide innocent eyes mirrored the emptiness of the sky above the leaves.

Nika looked tired and bedraggled as did the baby…I guess they had been up most of the night. If not for Chaya’s early knock at their window, they would’ve slept in and there would have been no meeting for us.

After lunch we strolled back to the Kids Only Market past the water park where we used to frolic as a family when the girls were younger. I pointed out the turtles basking on the sunny rocks to Chaya which she had apparently been unaware of and she pronounced: “I’ve been Turtle-ized,” in a Schwarzenegger-esque accent.

How quickly time flies...it seems that it was only just yesterday I came here to play with my two small girls.

Nika picked up the pace just after we crossed back under the bridge along the seawall and ran with her baby in the stroller, laughing and erasing the tired worry lines from her face. It is not easy work at home with a new baby as I recall only too well.

I decided against taking a water taxi and opted for a walk home past the armories under the growing heat of the sun, over the Burrard Bridge back home where an old man scolded a young woman for being in the pedestrian lane with her bike.

She smiled sunnily at him...it was just that kind of day.

A Perfect Walk

2010-06-09T13:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, after doing my laundry and then walking up to Safeway to do my grocery shopping, I took my usual stroll up Harwood, down Pacific and Hornby and back west along the seawall to Sunset Beach.

I wore only a t-shirt and although it was cool I felt quite comfortable.

Because of the beautiful sunny weather there were a lot of others enjoying the ambience of the walk and the beach and I followed in the footsteps of an elderly couple who passed me walking arm in arm. They were very tiny, well under 5 feet for sure. He was bald and she had carefully coifed, colored and brushed light brown hair that did not completely hide the gray.

As they passed me, I could smell them and it was a smell of cleanliness and familiarity. Everything about them was perfect. They could have been my own grandparents. I felt so comfortable walking in their wake.

They walked with easy dignity and exuded an aura of love, not like two young lovers but like two who have known the whole journey of love and lived through it and stayed the course.

As I continued to amble towards the Inukshuk they outpaced me and I lost sight of them.

I decided to walk as far as the Inukshuk, circle it and then go back home to begin cooking my dinner. It was an easy walk and as I rounded the loop by the stones where the Inukshuk stands watch, I observed many young people posing, laughing and mugging for their tiny cameras, in order to capture their tokens of this glorious day.

There was one trio who seemed to be taking fashion photos of a very pretty young woman, and she smiled and pouted and flirted with the camera as the wind blew up a choppy surf in the background. She also took photos of them, but it seemed that the focus was on her.

Another group a little further along was taking a much more relaxed and fun-filled set of pics, they seemed more like school friends.

Round the bend I came face to face with the elderly couple who had first passed me and I noticed the man's face for the first time. He looked at me briefly and did not smile but his eyes were light and kind and full of benevolence.

This walk was the kind of everyday experience that is so often taken for granted. Today I was awake enough to cherish it and make it my own.

From Sunny Day to Pouring Rain

2010-05-19T19:47:00.000-07:00

It was a gorgeous May morning, the sun vibrant, the sky blue and I woke knowing my weekend chores were completed the night before and that this was my day.

I had plans to meet Karen and Kadir for dinner at 4:30 and decided to take advantage of the weather to take a mid-day stroll to 2nd Beach.

I wore my t-shirt and a put on a flannel shirt in case it got windy but was carrying it by the time I reached English Bay.

I took my normal leisurely walk admiring the ocean, the flowers, the long still-uncut grasses along the slopes above the seawall. I kept wondering how Kadir would look after his 2-week kayaking journey in Strathcona Park on Vancouver Island and was looking forward to details.

My walk took about an hour, I came home and watched a little TV and then planned to do one more loop down to the water and then walk back up to Davie to meet the family members but a few minutes after I started back down, I could feel the chill in the air and the first few raindrops beginning to splatter.

I realized that this was not a walk I would enjoy in shirt sleeves and so went back home to bide my time until our meeting time. At 4, I called Kadir's cell and to my surprise he was already waiting at Davie and Thurlow, a half hour early. I told him I would be right there and grabbing a hat and jacket started off. I am glad I didn't take an umbrella.

On the street outside the sky had grown suddenly and ominously dark and there were flurries of leaves like small cyclones blowing randomly over the street. The wind had kicked into overdrive. The rain had not really started yet but there was doubt it would be here, and soon!

It arrived by the time I had walked 2 blocks up to Davie and holding my hat in place so that the wind wouldn't carry it off I walked up to Starbucks at Thurlow and Davie where Kadir was sprawled at one of the tables, holding a now empty cup and looking very impatient.

He was wearing a new hat and new shoes that were in danger of being soaked by the now growing-in-intensity downpour. Clothes are not an item that he has ever been able to take for granted and so he was understandably upset about the bad timing of the weather.

Karen was running late of course and was just boarding the Canada line in South Vancouver and so we started off to get a table at Stephos, but half way there changed our tack and decided to walk up Davie to meet Karen at the Sky Train station in Yaletown where we assumed she would be getting off.

I am glad the rain changed our plans for us, as by the time we reached Thurlow again it was dumping buckets and Kadir was sweating bullets over his new shoes. We huddled under an awning for awhile until Karen called and told us she was at the Waterfront Station, as she didn't know where to disembark.

So we diverted our steps to Osaka Sushi on Burrard where we have all gathered before and where I was confident that due to the weather we could while away a half-hour before ordering until Karen arrived.

She finally arrived soaking wet and wearing flip-flops in the chilly rain! What a gal! Just like the weather and you never know which way the wind is going to be blowing.

This was a successful meeting though for as soon as Karen arrived Kadir's mood improved and we were soon all laughing together.

Getting the details of his trip was more difficult as he had been sick on the trip and it sounds like the young team was challenged but I got enough details that I am sure it is a journey he will not soon forget.

And at what other school would this trip provide credits for his high school year?

It was a good, good day.

An Earth Day Prayer

2010-04-22T10:29:00.000-07:00

Yes, I confess to slacking off when it comes to my blog. The main obstacle to me these past few weeks has been waiting for the right moment to post.

I don't like to blog when I have things on my mind that are too personal and don't have anything happy, or uplifting to share with others. There is already too much bad news out there all the time!

So this morning, a bright and sunny Earth Day I have the perfect excuse. I am soon to be a grandfather and yesterday my pregnant daughter Nika showed up with her mom to take a seawall walk with dad.

Nika and Karen showed up pretty much on cue, around 12:30 and we went down to the seawall and walked to English Bay and then up Denman for lunch.

Nika had just cut Karen’s hair and they had pretty much bonded before arriving so it was nice to be in their ambience. All through our visit I didn’t see evidence of a single cigarette nor a complaint in that direction.

We had lunch at the new Knight & Day along Denman (they did; I had breakfast) and then they polished off my leftover pancakes for desert after their calamari and salad lunch which looked very appetizing indeed.

Nika looked healthy and very happy and a friendly waitress announced that her belly was definitely harboring a boy as it is very round and pronounced!

Nika told me they had everything they needed for the newborn baby and are going to wait until June for the baby shower once they are sure of the baby’s sex. Karen is going to be helping them clean their apartment in anticipation of the baby’s immanent arrival in May.

The walk to English Bay was initially cold and sunless but by the time we came outside after lunch, the sun had started to appear and part the cloud cover and so we were able to amble back in its healing presence and admire the tulips, bluebells and cherry blossoms.

The return walk was pretty much the walk I envisioned when they first suggested it last week. We walked and talked to the rhythm of the surf and admired the new spring greenery all around us.

It was nice to spend time with two of the very specials girls in my life. It was nice to live in the moment with them as in the family days of yesterday when Nika was just a toddler.

Today, on Earth Day, I pray that the April showers will give birth to many May flowers.

My Two Jet-Setting Sons

2010-03-07T11:06:00.000-08:00

I received a lovely long letter via email from Ky written last night. He is in New York City preparing to leave for London again mid month.

He too is ecstatic about Kadir’s trip and feels he will have a life altering experience as he did, suddenly making the rest of the world much more accessible.

Kadir has been invited to go to a resort in Cancun and will be accompanied by two of his school friends and their mom. Karen and I spent a few furious days trying to cough up a passport for him and to our amazement we succeeded.

Ky let me into his feelings (where he is usually tight-lipped) and despite the fact that he thought the grammar was atrocious it is one of the easiest to read pieces I have ever received from him. There was no bad grammar that I could see at all.

I had a few stunningly vivid dreams last night. In one I was talking to the Dalai Lama and in another being reunited with Veronica, the mother of my young (in the dream) son Chad. At times it seemed to be Kadir that I was walking with and hugging and kissing spontaneously. It was a wonderful feeling of bonding, of being welcomed by those I love.

I woke around 7 a.m. saying “Wow” and then going to the bathroom and going back to sleep to dream some more. I woke at 9:15, a perfect time for me to get up.

It is Sunday and feels like it although I couldn’t help but notice men’s voices in the hallway this morning. Whether they are residents or visitors I don’t know.

I checked Ky’s photos on Flickr this morning and he has now (what an array of changes in the past year) morphed into a Bob Dylan lookalike with a short beard, sunglasses, black suit w thin black tie and a small brimmed fedora style hat!

He posted a stunning photo of himself typing on a portable machine while sitting at a small desk on a dock or platform outdoors churning out pages of writing which are flying in the breeze all around him.

He calls it “too commercial” but I call it BRILLIANT! (Google: ky zoss photos) He never ceases to amaze me.

I also Googled “Milk Bar” which is the coffee shop in Soho he will be working in this month, once he arrives and settles in. He has a lucky horseshoe stowed somewhere on him.

Kadir flies out from YVR early tomorrow morning and Ky from JFK mid month.

I have marked both dates on my calendar so I can track the flight paths of my two suddenly grown-up young jet setting sons!

No Complaints

2010-02-17T11:44:00.000-08:00

Although it poured rain the night before last by mid day yesterday the sun had broken through.

I took my usual Tuesday walk to Safeway to shop and reveled in the cherry blossoms and crocuses in evidence along the way. The sun was warm although the air was chill and I completed my shopping, happy in the knowledge that with laundry done my weekend chores were now complete.

As I walked home carrying my bags I noticed an elderly lady stopped in the sidewalk ahead of me, her face raised skyward as though studying something.

When I crossed the intersection she smiled at me, radiantly and beautifully. I looked up to where she had been looking and I could see the sky filled with crows and pigeons, circling madly.

“There must be an eagle up there,” she exclaimed in a strong British accent. I agreed as this is often the cause of such a display of aerial acrobatics.

Sure enough as we looked a young eagle soared into view above the rooftops. Its white plumage was not yet in evidence but it was recognizable by the steadiness of its trajectory amidst the flutterings of the other birds.

We both commented on the beauty of the day and the apparently early arrival of spring and then parted ways, and encounter that left me with a very nice feeling to take home with me.

She had commented on the chill in the air and added, “I’m not complaining mind you.”

“No complaints from this quarter either,” I responded as I waved goodbye.

Olympics Fever

2010-02-04T11:23:00.000-08:00

These days I don’t often walk down towards the East Side to check out the old neighborhood, the Vancouver I first saw when I came here in the early 70’s.

It was mid winter, and fresh off a cross-Canada hitchhike my partner and I got a room at the Terminus Hotel in Gastown a run-down last ditch resort for derelicts and addicts. As a starving artist I fell right and comfortably into their midst.

I pawned a typewriter to pay the first week’s rent and began busking on the sidewalk across the street, in front of the then new Spaghetti Factory.

With the 2010 Olympics coming on I wanted to get a first hand look at the facelift the city is giving itself to meet the world in a week or so.

I kept my promise to myself and walked down to Army & Navy yesterday, to check out the area around Victory Square and the preparations for the Olympics. There are signs of construction everywhere and the new Woodward’s building looks like a snapshot of its turn-of-the-century architecture with the store departments lettered largely under the windows.

The new red “W” is winking and spinning up top like it never left.

There is a new and burgeoning London Drugs now taking up the southwest side of the building along Hastings and across the street where those seedy run down convenience stores used to be, artisans are hard at work constructing what appears to be a new set of store fronts.

On the East side along Abbot Street Nester’s Market has moved in and is calling itself the Woodward’s Food Floor after it’s namesake which was still thriving and bustling when I first arrived here in 1971.

The Vancouver Film School has expanded from its one small building just West of Victory Square to cover nearly the whole block occupying many of the buildings.

There is so much construction going on in the area that it is almost impossible to believe we are on the receding edge of a major recession.

I guess this is part of the face Vancouver will be showing the world when it arrives.

Well what about the homeless problem?

I guess there are major perks floating around the area these days as many of the people I saw on the streets including some who were clearly challenged are now wearing clothing with Olympic slogans and games related gear.

I just pray that this downtown eastside renaissance continues long after the games have come and gone and that the homeless are finally welcomed home.

A Lesson Finally Learned

2010-01-25T10:12:00.000-08:00

It was raining lightly as I was walking home from work last night around 9:45. I had my umbrella open although I probably didn't need it and I had stepped off the curb and was crossing Comox Street when I was scared badly by a car turning left off Bute.

The crosswalk was brightly lit and there is no way the driver could not have seen me unless he was not paying attention to the road. He had not signaled nor begun his turn until after I was in the intersection.

I was shaken and stumbled in front of the car as it braked only inches from me, although I was already on the far side of the road. There seemed to be no attempt to stay in the right lane and avoid me.

I stood facing the windshield and held my hands palms up in dismay as if to signal “What the hell are you thinking?”

He rolled down his window and stuck his head out and I spilled my emotions; “You scared the fucking shit out of me!”

He was a grey-haired man wearing glasses and with a companion and he replied calmly “I know I did” and in the moment and because there was no sign or sense of apology it seemed he intended to scare me.

There was an awkward pause during which numerous sarcastic or nasty things to say came to my mind and he then said, “It’s a good thing no one was hurt.”

In retrospect, I think he too was worried what I might say or do next. He may have even been afraid to apologize giving me the sense that he was in the wrong and thus the opportunity to do or say something hurtful.

A lot of things went through my mind all at once and I came up empty handed. What use would it be to accuse him or hurl abuse his way? In the same angry and scared tones I used at first I exclaimed, “Yes it sure is a good thing!”

I walked away fuming, far from calm and furious that I had received not so much as a single word of apology and I continued to chew on that all the way home.

In an hour the anger had passed and I was glad that I had not piled any more negative energy into an already heated situation.

This morning I remembered a lesson I had learned in my twenties while studying meditation and spirituality. It was the admonition, “Let the anger die in you. Do not release it back into the situation.”

Easier said than done, but I realize today that is exactly what I did.

It only took about 40 years for that lesson to sink home.

En route to the mountain...

2009-12-12T11:00:00.000-08:00

I placed a flurry of phone calls this morning to family to see if they had got off to a good start for their Whistler expedition. They were at Karen’s a few minutes ago picking up some of Ky’s things, but Kadir has been on his front porch waiting since 7 a.m.

Both boys sound totally pumped. I haven’t heard Kadir sound so happy in a couple of years. Family, there’s nothing like it, nothing that can replace it!

The weather is co-operating. It didn’t snow last night down here near the water so the highways should be relatively clear. Snow is supposed to start tomorrow. Nika and Jeremy are coming home tonight but the boys will stay overnight and come home on the bus.

I asked Kadir if he was taking a bag. “No, I’m going in a t-shirt and underwear,” he deadpanned.

I wanted to suggest he leave his iPhone in it while snowboarding. Leaving his iPhone behind is a no go.

“I need to listen to music, get in the zone,” he instructed, sounding suspiciously like a 1960's surfer dude. He said he will put it in a plastic bag to keep it dry.

I just called them and they are stopping for coffee in West Van having successfully crossed to the North Shore and everyone sounds happy. Ky is even getting a turn at the wheel.

Kadir sounded a bit subdued but it is no surprise with Nika and Ky both talking at full speed.

Even if Ky is not staying on for long it is great that he came home at this juncture for the holidays and to bond with his siblings. As the youngest family member Kadir especially needs this but so do the others.

When they come down from the mountain perhaps they will all remember once again that they are not alone in life, and are loved.

Hopefully this family bonding will continue on through the holidays at least, providing some healing to our splintered clan.

The Return of KyQuixote

2009-12-11T11:17:00.000-08:00

It is Friday morning and very cold and grey outside, but so far no snow to be seen. What a difference in energy from yesterday when I was up an hour early and not sure whether Ky would be here on time.

He rang my buzzer at a few minutes past 10 respectably prompt and I was greeted by a tenderly bearded young rabbinical student (he looks so very Jewish complete with pronounced nose) in black shirt and tie, carrying the usual computer case and Nikon camera.

His facial hair has got much darker as has the hair on his arms, and he is showing more signs of budding manliness.

We got right down to talking. He is planning on staying here for a few weeks, working at 49th Parallel over the busy holiday season and then heading on to New York to continue his learning and travel curve. He told me that staying here in Vancouver right now would seem like going backwards. I understand only too well what he means.

He said he visited many of the places in India where his mom and I visited with the girls and got a thrill at standing in the same spots he’d only seen in pictures.

Our visit was very brief as I was getting ready for work but he doesn't leave until early January so we have a lot more time to catch up.

Nika is taking him and his brother up to visit Chaya in Whistler this weekend where they will go snowboarding and all of the siblings will have a chance to bond again.

The weather is co-operating too as there is a new snowfall forecast for this weekend.

It should be a picture perfect Whistler pre-Olympic getaway!

Another Gorgeous Sunny Morning

2009-12-07T10:17:00.000-08:00

It is another gorgeous sunny morning and probably frosty cold as well though I have not left for work yet. The walk home last night with wind chill was truly wintery. The good news is that sun is forecast over the next few days, my days off.

I was awake and up just before 9 a.m. this morning after a night of very vivid dreams. None of them are blog worthy though as they were all fragmented (at least they are in so in memory).

It is already one week into December! How quickly this year has sped by!

I am eagerly awaiting the return of my son Ky, who has been overseas for nearly a year now. He is due back on Wednesday but so far has not advised me of the flight number or airline. My daughter Nika and her boyfriend will be meeting him at the airport and ferrying him to their new apartment on south Main where he will stay with them until he gets his bearings.

He has not advised me whether the job opportunity in New York is still open for him. I am secretly hoping he will stay here for a while and not leave again so soon. I miss his company and presence in my life.

My daughter Nika came to visit with me last week and we walked up to Denman together for breakfast. She is now starting to show and is in her first maternity clothes. She looked relaxed and was very upbeat. She is finishing her courses at Langara this week and will be continuing to work until later in her pregnancy.

Chaya has started a new job in Whistler as distribution manager in the Whistler Olympic Park. She took her sister Nika shopping last week and has been very much there for her. I have not had a chance to catch up with her in a while and am looking forward to a window in which we can meet.

Kadir is holding firm in his new place on Wellwyn Avenue in East Van. As a 16 year old now in semi-independent living he is showing remarkable stamina although he has been ill several times this winter. I talk to him several times a week via phone but we have not had a chance to get together for a few weeks now.

When I do talk to him, he is usually en route to a friends place and so subject matter is sparse. I ask him how he is doing at school and he asks me how I am doing at work. I look forward to our meetings when we usually delve into deeper topics...although the movie Zombieland was our last outing together.

Karen is holding firm in her new apartment in Marpole but has had difficulty finding and keeping work.

When we got married I envisioned us growing old together, surrounded by all our children. I guess it hasn't worked out in quite the way I imagined.

But we are still all living, in good health and in fairly frequent contact and for that I am thankful.

And so much for my open letter to everyone. Now I will set off for work.

The Gateless Gate

2009-11-27T11:35:00.000-08:00

It is Friday morning and I am preparing for work.

There is blue sky and sun today, a wonderful window in what has been mostly a cold and rainy November.

I was doing some surfing this morning and came upon the following link to a Buddhist text by Ekai, called Mu-mon, translated by Nyogen Senzaki and Paul Reps circa 1934:

http://www.sacred-texts.com/bud/glg/index.htm

It is a translation of and commentary on 49 Zen Buddhist koans, originally published in Zen Flesh, Zen Bones.

I read this book in my 20's while traveling and playing music in California and many years later met and studied with its author Paul Reps.

Both reading the book and meeting the author were life-changing experiences for me.

As I set off for the office I will be thinking about the young traveler meeting his teacher in the late 1970's and what a miracle in everyday guise that was.

...more or less ready for another week.

2009-11-17T15:14:00.000-08:00

It is Tuesday morning and we are getting glimpses of blue sky and sun though it is sure to be a narrow window in among the rainy waves of wet weather.

I received a phone message from Karen this morning. She was calling from a rooftop in Kerrisdale where she is working today (roofing) to tell me about a police standoff which happened near her apartment in South Vancouver last night. Apparently it lasted nearly 4 hours and ended with a huge boom which was the sound of some kind of weapon used to take the gunman out.

I have been calling Kadir nearly every day, something I was not able to do when he did not have a phone and it is great to be in constant contact with him. The other day I called him from work on my dinner break and he was in Kits with his school friends, waiting for a haircut!

There was a time when I couldn't pay him to get a haircut. How times change!

I did things sort of ass-backwards this morning…starting off with my meds and then a few phone calls including one to the dentist to settle my bill.

I followed this with prayers and exercises and then I grabbed the window of sunlight to take out my trash and go shopping at Safeway. I made a pit-stop at Great Clips and got my hair cut thus killing 2 birds with one stone.

The lady who cut my hair is a long time employee there of middle eastern origin but I haven’t seen her in over a year and so we picked up lost time by discussing last night’s 6.6 earthquake which I slept through but which Danny tweeted this morning.

She launched into a story about a big quake here in the early part of this decade which shook her West End apartment badly throwing a good scare into her and her husband. I couldn’t understand a lot of what she imparted as it was done in rapid-fire high speed with a strong accent but the gist of it was that she was aware that we live in a quake zone and she can’t understand why they are building so high in an area of such great risk.

Meanwhile the scissors and clippers flew and buzzed around my scalp as both of her hands gesticulated wildly describing her experience. In the mirror it almost looked like she was juggling. By the time she finished she was breathless but produced a mirror to show her handiwork which looked pretty good to me, against all odds.

I breathed a sigh of relief and thanks as I said goodbye and headed to Safeway.

The good thing about kicking off shopping early in a week day is that there were no lineups so I was in and out of there in a flash, and walked home with 2 bags of groceries. I used my canvas ones as I am careful these days about bringing home more plastic.

Once home, I put in my first load of laundry and then headed to the shower.

My chores almost done, I am more or less ready for another week.

Dancing Peak to Peak

2009-10-04T09:49:00.000-07:00

It is just after 9 a.m. on Sunday morning and although I rose at 8:30 it was nothing compared to 5 a.m. yesterday. I couldn’t believe how lonely the streets felt at 7 a.m. when I left for the office.

Yesterday we made our staff trip to Whistler.

Although I came to BC in 1972 I had only made the attempt once before in a Volkswagen bug, I can’t even remember the year. I do remember I made it to Squamish and Shannon Falls before the car began to overheat and stall, causing me to abort the trip.

But yesterday I was vaulted out of my comfort zone here in town in a rented newer model Dodge minivan driven by my friend and co-worker Danny and in two groups in two vans our party made the trek to Whistler.

Although this year was one of the hottest on records and there had been no snow on the nearby mountaintops all summer, we were greeted by newly dusted white caps on the surrounding peaks.

There was no snow in the village but the Sales Manager of the new Coast Blackcomb Suites Brandi took us on a tour I won’t soon forget. After a brief tour of the hotel we hiked down the ski slope at the rear of the property into the village.

From there we took a gondola up the mountain side to a second lift where we could access the Peak 2 Peak Gondola ride the largest unsupported gondola ride in the world. At its highest point we were 4 ½ km above the valley floor and the cars were big enough to hold 20 people.

The ride goes from Whistler Mountain to Blackcomb Mountain which are two side by side peaks separated by a deep valley. The view from up there is stunning in its magnificence and if a person had any doubts that we live in one of the most beautiful spots in the world, this ride would cure them at a stroke.

The air up there is so pure that all the senses seem to open at once, making the colors more vibrant and the eyes more clear and the breathing easier. It was cold up there though, and I was glad I heeded the advice to dress warmly wearing my winter coat and a wool toque. A couple of staff members had not listened and suffered and shivered accordingly.

After a brief stop at The Rendezvous, a mountaintop restaurant and pit stop we took the trip back down which seemed to take forever, to the much milder climate of the village and then a shuttle bus back to the hotel where Brandi our tour manager had arranged and now personally prepared for us a hamburger barbeque. She cooked and served which after her tour duty with us was above and beyond the call. She was also an avid raconteur and regaled us with stories of her 5 years in Whistler and beyond.

On the homeward journey I felt I had been awake and traveling for 2 days although we were back in Vancouver by 5 p.m.

I had expected the usual hotel tour which although informative are rarely spectacular. Anyone who takes this tour is sure to tell all their friends and to return to visit this amazing place.

The Big 16

2009-10-01T10:22:00.000-07:00

This month Kadir will turn 16 and yesterday I gave him his gift.

At just about 4 p.m. sharp yesterday my door buzzer rang. It was Kadir arriving early from school…apparently his social worker had canceled due to being sick.

We talked for a few minutes and he downed a glass of juice. He bought up the subject of a phone…I guess Karen had mentioned something to him about my decision to get him a cell phone. So we walked over to Rogers, as it was pretty clear he preferred that over FIDO.

We looked at a few phones briefly and then waited in line to speak to an agent…there were only two agents and both were busy. While waiting in line I noticed Kadir eyeing the iPhone display and there and then I decided I was going to spring for the extra $100+ to get him one.

Once the agent demonstrated the power of this phone, I knew I had made the right choice. I could almost hear Kadir humming with happiness. Now he has what many of his school mates already have, and it is the power of new technology at his fingertips. It’s a phone that doubles as an mp3 player, a camera, and a computer enabling him to browse the internet. It has the virtual touch screen so there are no sliding keyboard appendages making it hard to manage.

The monthly fee will be around $65 dollars with the extras package but with his allowance that should be do-able. And he will now be able to shop for a job after school. He was supposed to meet with the person he will be moving in with last night but it sounded like this might be delayed due to the other person being too busy.

I guess I will know more in a few days. At least I know I can call Kadir now, and he can call me at no extra charge any time of day or night on the My5(+ 5) Plan.

The agent who signed us up was very helpful and convinced us that we had the best deal…he said there would be new packages available next month but none as rich as the one we got.

We walked down to Vera’s Burger Shack and I bought him a huge burger which he demolished with joy and then walked him to the MacDonald Bus. He kissed me on the lips again before leaving…that shy butterfly “I love you dad” kiss that means the world to me.

When the bus pulled away he was talking on his phone and smiling at me, giving me a big thumbs up.

Love from Ky Quixote & Kadir

2009-09-16T12:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a pristine day although my pleasure was watered down by the crew hauling down a large Maple tree across the street and destroying the neighborhood peace and quiet.

This morning is cloudy with afternoon rain forecast which at 11:30 had just started to fall. There is supposed to be a mix of sun and cloud tomorrow though.

I have shaved, exercised and said my morning prayers and just finished checking email. There was a short one from Ky just letting me know he is safely returned to London “...doing chores and setting up work.”

I like the fact that he doesn't say: Looking for work.

He later Twittered:

"First few photos are up on Flickr now. http://bit.ly/447bFd"

Last night around 9 p.m. after I had eaten supper and was watching So You Think You Can Dance Canada, my phone rang. I was pleasantly surprised to hear Kadir telling me he was coming over after school.

He came over last week with his friend Mike to let me know he was safe, although I had not received a call from him all summer long (not since the end of June).

When I asked him why, all he said was "You have no idea what I have been through." Sometimes things are best left unsaid until the right time.

I was glad he called because we were supposed to meet at the Paramount today to see the latest Harry Potter movie. But when I checked movie listings in the local paper I saw that Harry Potter was no longer listed at the Paramount. So I let him know that we missed our Harry Potter window there.

His reply, “I don’t care. I just want to come over and hang out with you.” Before he hung up he threw in “I love you.”

Ky ended his earlier email to me with the same words.

What a treasure for this proud father!

Dances with Dervishes

2009-08-16T11:01:00.000-07:00

It is a sunny Sunday morning as I slowly arise, do exercises and prayers and now completing my journal entry.

As I walked along the seawall yesterday evening, under a canopy of rose-colored sky streaked with wispy clouds I could still hear the chanting of the dervishes representing Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Palestine and many other Middle Eastern countries who had put on performances that afternoon at the Art Gallery for the Fifth Canadian Islamic Cultural Expo that took place on the fountains lawn as it does every year.

As I wandered downtown yesterday, I had no idea this would be happening but I could hear the drumming from a couple of blocks away and was drawn into the confluence of people gathered for the event.

I arrived just as a dervish demonstration was ending and as they left the courtyard where they had been dancing and doing zikr (chanting praises of Allah) I was surrounded by them and swept up in their effusive energy. There must’ve been 30 young men in their late teens and twenties and the energy of celebration was palpable.

It was strange to come from a very Western-style new age spiritual celebration at the Quaker Hall with the women of Ruby (see yesterday's post) the night before and to find myself once again and so soon immersed in a stream of devotees.

It was like standing in an electric current. In a few minutes my whole body was tingling with energy that had not been present moments before.

It was also strange that I seemed to be invisible to them, as they circled all around me barely brushing me (but never once jostling me) with their robes and congratulating each other on their performances, their smiling faces full of light and joy.

Picture standing in a group of BC Lions players just after they score a touchdown…it was like that only far more subtle but with just as much (maybe more) energy. If I had seen them coming I probably would have got out of the way.

The young men (of Palestinian origin I think) were holding long white batons about the size of spears which were stripped in green, like candy canes. They wore turbans wrapped around little conical hats that gave them the appearance of soldiers/knights/stage players celebrating days of glory.

On scene next came the contingent from the Peninsula of Saudi Arabia dressed in full headgear and waving not batons, but long curved swords.

It was like a scene out of Lawrence of Arabia. And within minutes I was drowned in the boom of the big drums and the drone of voices lifting me out of the realm of the ordinary into another place, another time.

And as I was leaving another synchronistic happening very much in tune with the energy of the past two days…I passed the Turkish tent and stopping to read a passage from Rumi’s Masnawi that was posted I was drawn into conversation with another young man who asked if I had ever been to Turkey. As I left he handed me a DVD of The Whirling Dervishes direct from Konya, which was recorded in Calgary…and included a full classical Turkish orchestra performing for a Sema (or the celebratory dance of the dervishes).

So last night I played that back to back with Ruby’s CD On the Way of Love: Songs inspired by Rumi.

A Healing Gift

2009-08-15T12:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was an unusual day in that I decided to head down to South Vancouver and do several things including shopping at Oakridge, saying hello to Nika who works there and visiting Karen’s new area.

I caught the bus to Oak and 41st which confused me at the start by taking a right off the bridge towards Kits (they now have a new route which bypasses busy Granville and Broadway). There was a new trainee driver on board and so the bus virtually crawled to its destination.

I had forgotten that Oakridge Mall was not on Oak Street and so when I got off, I wasn’t sure which way to head at first. I quickly got my bearings though and headed east.

Nika was not working that day and neither did I want to carry clothing in bags to South Van as I was already carrying my jacket. So after window shopping I left the mall empy-handed in a kind of daze and began making my way west before finally circling back through the mall and catching a bus on the north side of 41st heading south. I got off at 64th and began walking west through a residential area with no sidewalks.

The streets were deserted and it felt like the old days hiking in foreign territory and the walk soon became a hot slog. I kept thinking of Herb’s story of passing out in the street from fatigue and heat and hoped I would not repeat it.

I finally made it across 70th and walked past the Quaker Hall where I knew there would be a Sufi gathering & concert that evening which I had planned to attend for some time. But Karen’s new apartment was only a block from there so I tested my intuition to see if I could find it.

It was depressing to me to think she might be in a rundown neighborhood but I was pleasantly surprised by the peaceful ambience and big trees just off a major traffic artery out of the city. There were several older but respectable-looking apartment buildings and I decided she must be in one of these. And I was happy to discover that there were no old rooming houses in the area, laying to rest another nightmare about her possible situation.

I finally caught a B-Line bus home which was a quick trip but after getting off at Seymour and transferring to a Davie bus to get home, I was tired. I put aside my plans for the evening concert on the south side and opted instead to go grocery shopping and make dinner.

As planned I cooked and ate my dinner but was inspired to call Karen and ask if she would like to attend the concert with me. She eased my mind further by informing me that she was in one of the nicer buildings I had seen earlier in the day. She was busy but encouraged me to attend the concert on my own. So I called a taxi with only an hour to spare and was soon walking through the doors of the hall.

I was also walking back in time about 10 years when I used to regularly attend Sufi meetings there. When I had passed the hall earlier in day it looked deserted and there was no signage to advertise a concert that evening. But I was not surprised to see the chairs all set up, the sound system ready and many of the chairs already occupied.

I walked downstairs to use the washroom and was met by two women and my friend Amir who is with the Sufi Order in Vancouver. We hugged and then as I looked at the women in his company the penny dropped; these were the women of Ruby who I’d come to listen to. I immediately told them that I’d downloaded and heard their song “Listen O Drop” from a poem by Rumi.

When they began their concert they gave me the healing gift of dedicating this song to me, causing me to weep many and much needed tears.

The hottest day EVER!

2009-07-30T09:30:00.000-07:00

The last time I remember being this hot was on my return from India in 1986…it was 40 degrees in Athens and I could barely breathe.

Yesterday was the hottest July 29th EVER in downtown Vancouver, and although it was only 32.9 degrees, it felt much hotter. After all, this is Vancouver and I live near the water!

I tried a walk in the later morning, heading up to the Pacific Centre Mall which I knew was air conditioned. It was like walking into a fridge after the heat of the street.

I'd proceeded there earlier at a snail’s pace along the sidewalk and stopping to test my blood pressure at the Burrard Clinic was not surprised to see it had returned to high/normal.

I think the heat opened up all my veins allowing a pure free flow. But man, did it slow me down!

Global warming...what global warming?

A fierce display of elemental energy!

2009-07-26T10:47:00.000-07:00

I am up at 9:15 after a sporadic last minute attempt to fall back asleep after a typical wee hours worrying session.

This morning a new Tweet from Ky: One too many momos. I Google searched and found this not to be alcohol but a Nepalese dumpling in tomato sauce, fast food in Kathmandu.

I have serious bags under my eyes this morning, big watery saggy ones. If I felt as ill as I look I would be calling in sick. But I feel pretty good.

Yesterday’s work shift ended with the sky turning a flat blood red and forked with jagged yellow lightning fangs. It was like the opening scene for a horror movie.

The two other agents in the office with me gazed out at the sky with a mixed expression of fascination and terror our smiles slightly lopsided as if we not sure what was about to happen next…and we weren’t. None of us have ever seen the sky like that.

We had cheered earlier on when the rain began to fall imagining that the vast crowd of litterbugs on fireworks night would be all but washed off the beach but the eerie turn of energies skyward had us dampening our cheers.

It was the second day of the fireworks but instead of packed streets on my way home just a few minutes before ShowTime, there were a few weary stragglers carrying umbrellas to ward off the new falling rain and a wet, tired-looking policeman posted at the Bute Street entrance to the West End with no traffic to ward off.

I was going to borrow an umbrella from the office but managed to get home with only a light soaking.

This morning I am still trying to figure out what happened. How could a day that began so sunny and hot end in such a fierce display of elemental energy?

Worry Zone Blues

2009-06-14T10:34:00.000-07:00

In terms of posting to my blog it has been a dry month for me.

There have been a few domestic upheavals in the past weeks that have had me crouching down in my "worry zone" a place I don't enjoy hanging in.

But each day is a new day bringing with it new opportunities and chances and every day I start my day with prayers and exercises to help bring me into tune with the higher frequencies and forces that surround us and can nudge us out of the doldrums.

I have to constantly remind myself that things I picture as terrible possibilities are not likely to happen. But when you are hunkering down in the worry zone, that's easy to forget.

So this is my advice to myself today:

Stand up, shake it off and move ahead. Don't run, don't push, don't complain. Take your time. When you take your time you do things right and don't have to do them again.

And if you are not going to throw anyone off course, there's no harm in shaking a tail feather while you're at it!

So shake it, shake it, shake it...baby!

A re-surgence of energy

2009-05-27T20:23:00.000-07:00

Wednesday and my 2nd day off.

Tuesday it rained for half the day, but today I had no chores and woke to a pristine sunny day.

After my morning rituals, I set off for my seawall walk. I had a re-surgence of energy and was able to make it all the way to Siwash Rock.

For the first time in a year, I paid homage to my mom at Siwash Rock and then visited Pauline Johnson's memorial in the park.

I made it clear (to myself and to the deceased poet) that I was not there to take on any illnesses this time but to honor the poet and the memory of my mom (who was an admirer of the poet) and to thank God for the deep lessons learned on my last visit when I wound up in hospital and unable to walk without a cane for months after.

Sometimes it is important to communicate with the dead if only to make intentions clear to oneself.

I wore a t-shirt as the weather was great but I took the precaution of applying a limited amount of SPF48 suntan lotion, being very careful not to apply any where it might contact my eyes.

I seemed to have passed the critical phase of my life (experienced last year during my "illness") shared with W.B. Yeats where the bodies and presences of young women cause such an upheaval in my innermost being. I was able to view and admire them without any visible repercussions today, and enjoyed the ambience of the beauty in my environment.

I knew before I left today that I would be able to do the walk without any excess clothing and my intuition proved accurate.

I was even able to dissuade myself from stopping for food along the way and settled for a home cooked meal. Knowing that I would arrive in time for the hockey game proved an incentive and indeed I arrived home with only an hour to spare before the Wings/Hawks game on TV.

It was a remarkably close game and kudos to the Hawks for fighting such a fierce battle but the Wings won in overtime and now it will be a repeat of last years playoff teams, the Wings and the Pens.

My sister Marilyn will be arriving for a visit next week and so I am inspired to be able spend quality time with her.

Moving with the Wild Grasses

2009-05-14T11:37:00.000-07:00

I summoned up the energy for a walk to 2nd Beach this “weekend”. I wasn’t able to do it on Tuesday the most pleasant of the two days, but I managed a walk on a cloudy, moody Wednesday.

The seawall was nearly deserted and it felt like the middle of winter but those kinds of walks are usually very pleasant as peace and quiet rules.

It was chilly and I wore my winter coat but it was not quite cold enough to warrant a cap and so I let the cool breeze caress my ears and ruffle my hair as I walked. It was quite different weather than the previous day when I wore my t-shirt only on errands outside.

That day I thought of my son Ky, who has now made the transition from the heat of Delhi to the northern areas of Uttar Pradesh and the holy city of Varanasi (Benares) on the Ganges. It is a relief to know he is not idling in the stifling 100 degrees plus heat of Delhi.

There were very few cargo ships out in the bay but there were quite a few herons waiting for a ripple or a flickering image that would signal fishing time.

As I walked my eyes feasted on daffodils, tulips, dandelions and bluebells resting in elfin groves in the shadows of the tall new-leafed trees. I feel so very lucky to be able to walk into the coming spring season free of a cane to lean on.

As I approached 2nd Beach I contemplated extending my walk to 3rd Beach but for whatever reason and since my “accident” last summer I have felt a significant drop in my energy and my balance still has not returned to normal.

Last week I could only summon up the energy to get half way to 2nd Beach and so I felt that making it the whole way this week was enough of a success.

It is strange though to see my image in windows as I walk by these days. Gone is the spring and stride of the younger man I once was and in its place I see a more humble, slower moving grey-haired person in my peripheral vision, one I still have trouble recognizing as me.

It gives me pause to realize that my friends and co-workers will also recognize this shift of energy in me. But I guess this is a taste of what the word senior really means in physical terms.

This will have to be my time to learn to move slowly and gracefully and in the rhythm of the wild grasses.

Ky Quixote arrives in New Delhi

2009-05-06T12:55:00.000-07:00

It is just after 12 noon and it is just after 12 midnight in India. The temperature yesterday was 107 F and going up this week as high as 111! I wonder how prepared Ky will be after the balmy coolness of London Town.

But today (or rather tonight as it is after midnight there and already Thursday May 7th) he's in India in the company of one of his friends and hopefully they successfully ran the gauntlet of bargaining cabbies at Indira Gandhi airport and have found a pleasant bed for the night with a hot bath so that they can start their India journey refreshed.

The first step was to disregard his dad's injunction to fly British Airways. I guess they found a better deal with KLM and flew from London to Amsterdam first and then to India.

Ky also left his computer in London, telling me he was going analog for this Journey to the East, probably a wise decision for several reasons, one of the main ones being that with the temperatures so high they will be grateful for traveling light.

It seems only yesterday that I was holding my newborn son in my arms and praying for guidance in raising him. He was born at home in Shawnigan Lake on Vancouver Island in August of 1987, just a year after we had returned from India.

His birth (and the birth of our second son Kadir) was forecast by my sufi teacher in Delhi and Ky's middle name Nizam was given to him by this same man before his birth.

It is only fitting that 23 years later he will be paying a personal visit to the Dargah of Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia, and I can imagine what a surprise Syed Ali Moosa will receive when the young man whose name was once only a promise knocks on his door.

How I would love to be there when this happens and I am hoping that Ky keeps a detailed record of this and posts a ton of pictures on his Flickr pages (Google: Ky Zoss Photos to follow up) although there may be a time delay as he doesn't have a computer with him and I think he is taking an older Nikon which means the film will have to be developed first.

Journey onward my brave young adventurer!

Who needs an i-pod?

2009-04-25T10:12:00.000-07:00

It is Saturday morning and I rec'd good news, an email from Ky saying his friends from Vancouver have arrived in London and he’s been busy entertaining them, hence the radio silence.

I have been waiting to hear his itinerary for the India trip…I think it is still not settled.

I've been following his photo posts to Flickr and when I see he's just posted, I know all is well. He has the eye and spirit of a true artist. From the age of about 6 years old when he first started to draw and color I could see his talent clearly defined. To follow his posts Google "ky zoss photos" and it will bring up his pages.

It’s a lovely blue sky morning and a perfect day for a walk to work.

As planned I watched the Elvis Costello special last night after work. A week ago I had seen the ad for the program and put a post-it note on my table with an abbreviated message so I would not miss it.

His guest was James Taylor and what memories their exchange brought back for me! I had goose bumps knowing I had been there too, in some ways.

After spending 40+ years as a singer songwriter I have some memories that echo the best of the vintage memories of any of the artists of my generation, famous or not. Part of the thrill I have in following my son's journey is knowing that he is laying the groundwork for some of the same treasures I have stored in my cellular memory over the years.

With stuff like this latent and ready to retrieve in an instant without any electronic devices, who needs an i-pod?

Seeing images of the young James Taylor juxtaposed to the present shots of an aging and much gentler, wiser man reminded me of my own journey. Watching him deftly finger the chord changes to some of his famous and memorable songs brought back memories of first hearing Sweet Baby James on the house sound system while sitting in Les Cousins Coffee House in Soho, London, just a few blocks away from where my son Ky is now working.

I was waiting for my spot at the open mike, my guitar in hand and going over the words to the songs (my own songs) I was about to perform as I had done so many times over the years and would continue to do for so many years to come.

Of course I had visions of these songs soon appearing on the pop charts and on the radio airwaves, a long lasting fantasy that never materialized for me but which fueled my journey and seemed to be a reason to carry on in the face of struggle. And what a struggle it was year after year waiting for those brief 15 minutes spots to showcase my songs!

In those days it never occured to me that I was writing music for a far more important and intimate reason...and that is the act of composing itself.

Thank God for that discipline, for the strength developed by it and for the life-line it has provided for me for so many years.

Counting my Blessings

2009-04-04T11:16:00.000-07:00

"When words are both true and kind, they can change our world." ~Buddha-

(from the tinybuddha Twitter page.)

It is just past 10 a.m. and I guess the snow that was forecast for later in the week never materialized for us and the sun seems to be sticking around instead. Thank you Weather Gods!

Saturday and mid-workweek for me! I am gearing up for the day, and counting my blessings.

Dare I mention the word Spring?

It seems whenever I take that deep relaxing breath and sigh of relief, the wind picks up again. But when the sun is shining like it is today, it is an incentive and an inspiration to get up and get with it.

If I was not working, it would be a great day for a seawall walk but I am lucky to be able to walk to work, about 25 minutes if I take my time and stop to smell the flowers.

Well, there may not be many blossoms just yet, as many seem to have tucked their heads back in their beds to wait out the cold days that have continued on. But they are coming, I can feel it in my bones.

And then this past cold winter will be nothing but a memory, one I will have forgotten by this time next year when someone asks, "Do you remember last year?"

As a young man and a student of meditation I tried so hard to live in the now. A long time ago I wrote:

"When to be, and to be, will deepen into NOW, I will roll my pantlegs to the knee and dance." I was an avid student of Yeats and Eliot, but also of Suzuki Roshi and Chogyam Trungpa.

These days, despite my best efforts I can't remember one week from the next, let alone a year ago. Especially if I am asked of if I try to remember.

The real memories, the ones that stick, come unbidden and linger like the fragrances of springtime blossoms. Thank God for those memories and times that were but will never be again.

And like the Canucks, with a game still in hand, what of those beautiful days and times still yet to come!

I am a lucky man!

The 1st of April?

2009-04-01T16:25:00.000-07:00

Today it’s dark, rainy and gloomy…and cold…again.

When I went shopping yesterday the wind was so strong that I had to hold my toque over my ears to prevent the gusts from pulling it off my head, and to protect my eardrums from the cold blasts and possible resulting headache. But it was sunny and the sky was clear blue.

When I poked my head out the window this morning the falling rain was icy and mixed with snow and it looked like a leisurely stroll to the dentist office in Kits might be out of the question. When I planned this appointment 6 months ago, I am sure I visualized a walk through spring blossoms.

What happened to spring this year?

I looked again and at 10:30 it looked like the velocity of the rain’s diminished and there was an elderly passer by walking bareheaded. It he can do it, why not I? It will give me some exercise too, I thought, something I might not otherwise get today considering the elements.

Then I packaged up my garbage and exited to the lane to visit the dumpster on my way out. I had my toque on again and my rolled umbrella at the ready.

This time I bundled up fairly carefully and half way across the bridge I was glad I had as the wind was threatening to turn my umbrella inside-out and my fingers were growing numb. I folded my umbrella and braved the pelting rain until I reached Kits.

The visit to the dentist is always a challenge and today it was no exception as there was a new hygenist and I had to go through the whole routine with her from the beginning. It seems to me that I used to get through a cleaning with much less hassle, but these days it is a gauntlet.

When I finally got through it and my dentist came to check, I could tell by the way he was poking around in there are telling the hygenist to roll back the x-rays that I was going to be making another visit soon. It looks like some of my old silver fillings are showing cracks at the seams and he will have to replace these.

It's just as well as those fillings were done in the late 60's in the UK, and they have held up well and served their purpose.

Back home after another cold, wet walk across the bridge in very un-April like weather, I was congratulating myself on catching the wave of energy on Tuesday that had me cleaning my apartment as well as doing laundry, something I have been putting off too long.

Also today before I left for the dentist I edited and posted another chapter on Eagalic Music at:

http://www.eagalicmusic.com/

So I guess I can chalk this up as another successful "weekend".

The Power of Words

2009-03-28T10:19:00.000-07:00

As those who read my blog will notice I haven’t posted much of anything new this month, after my initial entries. My apologies.

The problem I have with just putting stuff in there to fill up the space is that I would rather not do it if it is not both creative and positive.

For example, I don’t want to talk about my feelings for a few people in my life that have come to mean a lot to me. These are personal, and I am not in the mood to share them publically. Nor do I wish to vent using my blog. I would rather issue feelings and sentiments of love and strength.

There is plenty of negativity circulating out there in cyberspace anyway, as in the world at large and why not offset it with a shot of love?

The fact that I write for myself every day keeping my journal is the main grist for my mill, and it satisfies the urge to write for the sake of writing.

There is something about the discipline of putting words to page that gives me a feeling of utter satisfaction, and who is to say where this comes from but it has become an integral part of my life over the past 40 or so years.

When I have entered my journal at the beginning of each day, I feel my day has properly begun. It is as integral a discipline as washing my face and saying my morning prayers.

The Sufi teacher Hazrat Inayat Khan not only displayed but wrote about the power of words in his books. He wrote:

Among all the things in this world that are valuable, the word is the most precious for in the word you can find the light that gems and jewels do not possess. In the word you can find an intoxication which no wine can give; in a word you can find a life that could heal the wounds of the heart. - From "The Smiling Forehead" published in 1973 by the Rainbow Bridge Press.

Early on in my life I became aware of the power of words to heal or hurt and I promised myself that I would teach myself to use them wisely. This power is as active in what you say to yourself as in what you express to others.

It is a lesson I am still learning.

Here is a link to some of the writings of Inayat posted on line (thank you brother Wahiduddin):

The Smiling Forehead

The Lion in Winter

2009-03-09T10:21:00.000-07:00

I guess after all the groundhog was right and now March has come in like a lion with high winds, freezing rain and today a new blanket of thick snow that continues to fall at 9:34 a.m.

The early evening sleet storm had stopped by the time I left the office last night and so snow this morning was the last thing I expected. I have a feeling that many morning commuters will have the same thought.

I am still feeling the effects of the hour lost sleep as daylight savings time kicked in yesterday and this morning I woke at a couple of minutes to 9 out of a deep dream in which a robotic animal with sharp teeth was biting it’s way through a barrier or chain by way of providing more fun for my infant son.

That image is echoing the meaning of snow to an adult who has to trudge through it to work while the child revels in building a snowman.

It was not so very long that I would wake in weather like this to the plaintive cries of my young children. "Come outside dad and help me build a snowman!" And me of course with a cup of hot coffee in hand, stubbornly dragging my heels all the way to the front yard. Such precious memories and so very fleeting.

The one bright spot about trudging through the snow to work is the bright and smiling faces of my friends and co-workers once I arrive. And I doubt very much that this light blast of snow will compare to the blast earlier this year that turned my neighborhood into a prairie winter suburb.

Then of course there is the laughable comparison of our wet coast climate to anything east of Hope, B.C.

Here in the Hawaii of Canada we can afford to play with the lion in winter. Elsewhere we might be devoured by it!

This old boy might be anyway!

Precious Time with Kadir

2009-02-22T10:39:00.000-08:00

It’s already February 22nd and I have only posted once this month.

I have been feeling very tired and not very creative, basically putting one foot after the other to get through the work weeks.

The one bright spot was last Wednesday when Kadir came over again and we walked down to Sport Mart to get him a gym strip.

Our visit started out with a mini-lecture from me as he was an hour late and didn’t seem to think an explanation was necessary. This kind of tardiness was congenital with all his siblings too and only when they got older did they get the message that punctuality was a definite asset.

I tried to explain that when he was that late I doubted he would come at all and was close to leaving to do something else. He lectured me back.

“Why are you upset? It was the first sunny day in a long time (not true but perhaps the first sunny day when he was actually at school) and I was playing hacky-sack with my friends.”

“Didn’t you think I might be worried? I countered.

“Well, occupy yourself!”

He one-lined me into submission and gave me a withering and pitying look to follow the words.

He'd already given me the best news I've heard in a while. He's back in school and he told me his counselor has worked out a strategy for him to get through grade 10 if he takes his Science separately in summer school. It looks do-able to him and that is a huge incentive.

At Sport Mart we were fortunate to come upon a bargain in the gym clothes and shoes and he was happy with his purchases. At one point a young girl with a name tag reading Natalia and a strong accent was looking for his size in shoes and he had wandered off to another isle.

She found his size and so I called him over by name. The look on her face was one of pure wonder. “Where are you from?” she asked.

“From here,” I replied.

“That is a Russian name,” she offered up with a face of pure innocence and delight.

I took him for a close up of the new Shangri-La high rise and we went to Urban Fare for a bite. He had suggested Wendy’s but for the same price I knew I could get him a chicken dinner c/w potatoes, rice, veggies and gravy.

While I was paying for it he disappeared, to get us a table I thought. When I arrived at the table, he was bent over the take-out box and savagely wolfing down his dinner…never mind waiting for dad. It looked like he hadn’t eaten in a month. I guess that's what a 15 year old appetite looks like!

By the time I started into my dinner, he was finished and politely asking if another piece of chicken would cost much. No problem…I just forked mine over, as I wasn’t really hungry and knew I could catch up later at home.

Afterwards we walked across the street to Tim Horton’s for a hot chocolate to sip on the way to the bus stop. We were so deep in talk that I missed Howe Street and we found ourselves at Richards and Georgia and so we looped back around to the courthouse where the bus stop is located.

We sat on a nearby planter ledge and talked some more while waiting for the Oak Street bus.

When the bus arrived I kissed him goodbye and told him I loved him and was proud of him. How I wish my dad had said those words to me as a teenager.

As he boarded the bus he was hooking up to his I-Pod and though I jockeyed to get a last wave and could see him clearly as the bus pulled away, he was looking straight ahead and already gone into another dimension…a big change from the days when we used to exchange numerous waves goodbye until out of sight of each other.

But the feeling of warmth and love I was bathed in on my walk home along the darkening streets was evidence of the worth of this precious time spent with my son.

A New and Brighter Day

2009-02-03T16:23:00.000-08:00

This morning after only one day of the ground hog grumblings of 6 more weeks of winter the sun came out.

Even the normally taciturn post lady offered a greeting as I came up from the laundry room and astonished me by stating what a nice day it was.

After all there's hope!

I received a Twitter message from my friend Danny advising that as per its Superbowl announcement, Denny's Restaurants all across North America were offering free Grand Slam breakfasts to all comers until 2 p.m. I slid in just under the wire and our local Denny's at Thurlow and Davie looked like the Union Gospel Mission on Christmas Day.

The CNN news media twittered back:

Denny's slammed by breakfast giveaway http://tinyurl.com/att4bh

This sort of advertising campaign, a brilliant stroke of intuitive genius in a jaded corporate world would not have been thinkable before Barak Obama and the current economic crisis.

I had never seen the restaurant so busy, and despite the protests and complaints of the usual still-drunk-from-the-night-before rowdies, the staff and management with all hands on and perhaps triple its usual staff were a living breathing example of the meaning of customer service and generosity of spirit.

And what a note of optimism to sound in a year amid thunderings of doom and gloom!

After my hearty breakfast and over a month of snow, rain, sleet and freezing temperatures rarely seen on the West Coast I took my first seawall walk of the year to English Bay.

Down at the waterfront a grizzled veteran in Cowboy hat and rawhides who usually strums aimlessly at his guitar amid shouts and jokes to his drinking buddies on the nearby benches was in the middle of a full fledged rounding version of Marguaritaville, while an elderly lady sat by his side head inclined in rapt listening attention and with a look of admiration in her eyes as she gazed at him. He sounded pretty damn good, so good that his usual ranting buddies also shut up and watched him!

I made it all the way to English Bay and home in about an hour and a half after a stop or two along the way.

Thunderclouds on the horizon be damned, it is this kind of day that makes one want to shout Halleluliah!

And when I got home and checked email my thoughts and visualization of the night before were proved prophetic. I received a note from my son Ky who is now in Barcelona and walked down to the waterfront for his first ever glimpse of the splendid Mediterranean Sea.

For today anyway, its a new dawn and a new day!

A Young Man Arrives in London

2009-01-22T09:59:00.001-08:00

It is a cold and cloudy morning but with no precipitation and no real fog to speak of…not like earlier this week anyway.

I received my first email from Ky who has now landed safely in London, and is recuperating from jet lag. He comments that it is outrageously expensive and no where can he find internet access.

But as usual his tone is upbeat.

I have been traveling with him in spirit the past two days, recalling my first trip to swinging London in the late 60’s.

I landed at Gatwick airport and took the train to Victoria Station. I met a young lass from California on the train and we became fast friends, sharing a bed and breakfast room no bigger than a cracker box for a few days, until she fell for a handsome Brit bartender who lived in the area and moved in with him.

On my first foray out into the streets after a night in town I walked into a pub and there stood Wilfred Bramble holding court with a group of elderly cronies, hoisting his pint aloft and smiling the same unforgettable and mischievous smile that he smiled as “the clean old man”, Paul’s dad in the Beatles movie A Hard Days’ Night.

When he lifted his pint in my direction and toasted me too, I knew I had arrived.

I can't help but wonder what Ky is seeing and feeling today!

I wish him a quick success in finding "suitable lodgings"!

Breaking Open

2009-01-15T10:16:00.000-08:00

It’s foggy and cool this morning but no rain, and with the rest of the country in a severe deep-freeze I am really counting my blessings.

Yesterday I saw the author Elizabeth Lesser speaking on the Oprah show and I was quite impressed by the title of her book Broken Open and the way she described it’s meaning to the audience.

She said many adults live their lives tightly wound around their centre with anxiety and fear without ever breaking open like a rose which breaks into bloom.

Her thesis is that hard and difficult times can be tools which will enable us to face the darkness and fear in us and break open if only we allow them to.

It is a beautiful poetic image.

See a brief bio of her by clicking on the link below.

http://www.beliefnet.com/Holistic-Living/2004/08/Being-Broken-Open.aspx

A Farewell Dinner

2009-01-14T13:17:00.000-08:00

It’s just coming up to noon on Wednesday, yet when I woke late this morning for a moment I thought I would have to rush to prepare for work. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized I had one more day off.

Ky and I met for dinner at Stephos Greek restaurant on Davie last night as planned. He arrived slightly before I did and so by the time I went in they were just seating him and so we got right down to dinner. They were out of retsina and so we shared a half liter of red wine and ordered lamb for Ky and lamb souvlaki (small) for me.

The dinners went down well as it was already after 8:30 and we had a fun and lively talk over the table. When it was over, although my son offered to walk me home I opted to walk him to the Burrard Sky Train Station and so we had a continued nice long walk and talk.

He told me about his send off party attended by over 50 friends and also by his two sisters. I think it was one of his more successful Vancouver evenings.

His plan is still on to leave on the 19th via British Airways Vancouver to Heathrow and he is leaving in company with a friend. He tells me he is planning to work both as a barista and a barman to make ends meet, and is now thinking more long term in re: using his working holiday visa to do some traveling in Europe, which is what I’d hoped to hear.

He thinks they are going to stay in a hostel to start off, until they find a more permanent place to live. I pray it works out for him. I have never seen him happier or more confident.

When we parted in the station I tried to quote Polonius’ advice to his son, but couldn’t remember the words so he quoted them for me.

I kissed him on the lips and hugged him and told him how proud I am of him, my Nizami, a name given to him before he was born by my Sufi teacher in India. As he left, he placed his right hand over his heart, a familiar Sufi salute.

Then he went his way and I mine. It is strange how quickly things can change. I may not see him again for the better part of a year or maybe more and I will miss him greatly.

But knowing he is living out his adventure, makes me smile and I will continue to smile every time I think of him until we meet again.

Best of luck in 2009!

2009-01-02T10:10:00.000-08:00

It is Friday morning and I am preparing to set off for work.

My Christmas and New Years holiday weeks were mostly uneventful, but well placed in that they kept me inside through the heaviest of the snowy cold weather.

I finally got to talk to most family members and many friends via phone at least, although I didn’t necessarily talk to them on the same day or on Christmas or New Year’s Day exactly.

The important thing for me is checking with as many folks as possible to let them know I am okay and that I am thinking about them specifically.

I didn’t call everyone on my list as I am a big believer in listening to intuition. There seems to be a right time to call for me when the spirit moves me, although I have been wrong about that in the past too.

It occurs to me as I write this that there are probably a few people I called who could’ve cared less that they heard from me. And there are undoubtedly a few more who, if they read this, will wonder why I didn’t call them.

I guess from my point of view it is merely subjective. The little pot bubbles away on the stove, boiling merrily until the heat is turned off.

As this is my first blog of the season, I want to wish all my friends and family and blog readers a Happy and Prosperous New Year. No doubt we have some challenges ahead of us as the economy flounders but with a little luck and a lot of love we will hopefully rise to the challenges facing us.

Wait a minute. I am starting to sound like Gordon Campbell! Or like that guy in the commercial: Wait a minute. You’re claim’s been denied!

Anyway, I have already risen to one of the major challenges of the winter season and that is staying on my feet in the icy streets the past 2 weeks.

Who would’a thunk it in Vancouver, so much snow so early?

May we all stay on our feet this year!

Christmas Eve-ing

2008-12-24T13:52:00.000-08:00

All night long and all day long the snow has continued to fall. This is probably the most Christmassy Christmas Eve I have ever seen in all my years in Vancouver.

Never mind that the snow is knee deep in drifts around my apartment. All the better for Santa’s sleigh tonight, although I am sure that the falling snow will muffle the sounds of the midnight sleigh bells and the tapping of hooves on the rooftops.

I don’t have to work today which is a good thing, as I don’t have snow boots and getting transportation to work other than by foot could pose a major problem.

The snow is falling so thickly that when I put my head out the window to have a look it comes back covered in wet white powder.

Now if only I could have avoided the family holiday blues and if only the Canucks had not been skunked by the Sharks, it would be a picture perfect holiday. On second thought, isn’t family drama a huge chunk of the traditional holiday season? It is for me, anyway!

Not all the family is suffering. My daughter Chaya is in bliss by a fireplace today reveling in holiday spirit and my son Ky purchased his plane tickets for the UK. He leaves on January 19th, putting his dream into reality.

He showed up at my place yesterday with a gift of a steam iron (which he says he never uses and has to get rid of for his trip) and a book of poems & drawings by Leonard Cohen called The Book of Longing published in 2006.

We shared a holiday eggnog and talked about his upcoming journey. He is literally chomping at the bit, as I was at his age.

I wonder if I ever told him that it was Cohen’s The Spice Box of Earth and Eliot’s The Wasteland that really fueled my start into writing in California in the late 60’s?

Never mind. All things considered it is shaping up to be a Wonderful Christmas.

Missing Songs

2008-12-03T19:27:00.000-08:00

It is around 7:30 pm on Wednesday as I slowly gear up for my weekly work shift.

Ky visited this week and informed me that my songs from Alchemy and Border Crossings were now inaccessible on line. He said the pages had disappeared.

I checked and although I still found the pages, I found that the .ram files (Real Audio) were not playing properly. Maybe it has been too long since I updated my player.

I spent a good portion of today recreating mp3 versions of my songs Destiny (from the album Alchemy) and Master Five Willows (from Border Crossings).

You can now access them at my Eagalic Music website at http://www.eagalicmusic.com/music and I should have the lyrics posted in the next few days.

It has been an interesting weekend...and today I took my seawall walk under the cloudy skies. I was expecting sun but that didn't come until I had arrived home in the late afternoon.

I have been processing the news that my blood pressure count is now in the danger zone once again despite following my medication dosage every day.

Last night while meditating before sleep I decided not to worry and let it interfere with my peace of mind.

Without that, (as my sister Marilyn had reminded me) I am in no postion to carry on day to day or to help family.

After all, what is more important than that?

Temple Bells

2008-12-01T10:08:00.000-08:00

When I visited India in 1986 with my family, I took my guitar with me. I imagined that India would be fertile ground for writing more music.

But as I have written in my book Eagalic Music, I think my creative powers were temporarily blocked in India as I couldn't summon any music. In retrospect, I think all of my resources were used up simply taking in and trying to process the vastness/immensity that is India.

I did a lot of writing in India though, keeping daily journals of many of our experiences. At a bookseller's in Connaught Circle downtown Delhi I purchased 6 enormous hard cover journals, each one weighing a couple of pounds at least.

I filled these up in the next year or so and started the process while still in India. But when we arrived in Greece and set up house on the island of Symi in April 1986 on the return leg of our journey to the East, I began to compose songs again and wrote the lyrics in the first of these huge books.

I composed most of the songs on my album Alchemy in Symi but I didn't compose Temple Bells until we arrived back home and settled into our house on Dovedale Road in Shawnigan Lake.

There I set up a makeshift home studio using a 4 track recorder (a Tascam Porta One) and that is where I recorded Temple Bells.

A couple of months ago I uploaded the first of my unreleased songs The Crofton Mill in mp3 format to my website Eagalic Music and on November 25 I attempted to upload a second song, Temple Bells.

After setting up the post with the lyrics I discovered that the upload function was not working and I couldn't decipher why as an error bar appeared in place of the upload progress bar which covered a background error message with the word "dismiss".

I presented my difficulty to Danny my website designer and friend and on a computer at work, the error message was clear...the file was too big. Danny solved this by increasing the server file size upload limit and although it took him a few days to get to it, the file is now uploaded and if you are interested you can hear one of my songs definitely inspired by India.

Go to: http://www.eagalicmusic.com/ and check out the November 25th post where you will find the lyrics and an mp3 version of this song.

...I knew the angels had intervened.

2008-11-26T15:33:00.000-08:00

It's 3:30 pm on Wednesday and I have returned from a seawall walk that almost didn't happen today.

I planned to do a walk today but I also planned for the bright blue sky and sunshine that was forecast, and when I went out this afternoon (after nearly 2 hours of struggling unsuccessfully to upload a new mp3 file to my web site) I was shocked to see a metal grey sky, a watery glimpse of sun barely showing through and to feel the frigid (by Vancouver standards) November chill caressing my hatless head.

But after making it up to London Drugs and doing a blood pressure test I decided a brisk walk was definitely in order since the blood pressure is up nearly 20 points from last week.

So I wrapped a scarf around my neck, put on my wool watch cap and trekked out to 2nd Beach to watch the seagulls frollicking among the fading amber and many assorted colorless scraps of leaves still clinging to the skeletal arms of trees.

I also made a mental note to pocket the extra pair of wool gloves that are hanging unused in my closet for a future cold walk ( a task I have only just now completed).

Karen pulled yet another rabbit out of a hat yesterday, informing me that she has found a home in Kits for herself and Kadir which they will be occupying the first week in December or thereabouts. Weeks of stress around this issue instantly began evaporating in my muscles and bones and I could feel the encroaching weightlessness that always comes in the wake of welcome news.

The odds were against her as she had no job but it appears that both issues are being resolved at the same time as this will be another property management gig for her. When she told me she was busy ordering appliances, I knew the angels had intervened. This is the kind of thing she was born to do. It is what she excelled in, while we were in the Co-op.

I am processing this today and gave thanks during my walk for the seemingly endless string of dead ends and redemptions that have made up my family life for the past 8 years.

In today's economy finding an affordable home is no mean feat even with a regular paycheck.

A rainy day meditation...

2008-11-11T14:19:00.000-08:00

It is Tuesday morning and also Remembrance Day and I watched the ceremony from Victory Square on television as I entered my journal. It was double broadcast from both Vancouver and Victoria.

It was raining and the weather chilly. Many in the crowd of spectators held umbrellas as a solitary piper from the Seaforth (Karen’s dad’s regiment) Highlanders blew a salute and the Vancouver Youth Bach Choir sang a setting of In Flanders Fields.

A grade 12 student Catherine Chan read a simple but moving poem she wrote called Poppies and the wreath laying began at both the Vancouver and Victoria cenotaphs.

It is now just coming up to 3 p.m. and I have folded and stowed the last of 3 loads of laundry. These include the vestiges of towels and sheets from Karen’s stay. It is a really dreary day, but sort of peacefully quiet. The laundry room was empty and so I had no competition to complete my chores.

It is strange how empty a place can feel after someone close to you has left. But I confess that I was glad when she did as this place is far too small for 2 people, especially when they are leading such different lifestyles.

Earlier I walked up bare headed in the misty rainfall to Super Value and bought some nugget potatoes and Brussels sprouts for my dinner. I also stopped at Kin's market and bought some onions and bananas. It is a good day to avoid the longer walk to Safeway.

I may prepare a mid afternoon meal as I have eaten nothing today.

I am reminded today of the words of a Zen master I read long ago while living in my little shack on the mountainside;

...when hungry eat, when tired sleep
lie down on your mat, reclining quite flat
that's what's meant by dharma.

Let the Future Begin!

2008-11-05T11:53:00.000-08:00

I invited my son Ky over for pizza after his work shift yesterday and just when he was about to arrive, Karen came home too. So the 3 of us enjoyed the pizza together.

I wanted to celebrate his recent news. He found an apartment on Commercial Drive with just a couple of days to spare before being convicted to couch surfing at his friends' places. It is an affordable rent too, a crucial thing as he is planning on going to the UK in the New Year.

He was over 2 days ago and showed me his passport which had been returned from the British Consulate in Ottawa with a flashy12 month "working holiday" visa pasted inside (what a great concept, he can stay for 2 years but will only be allowed to work for one so that technically he could travel Europe and return periodically to replenish his funds.)

The other great news is that his boss has given him a contact to someone high up in the coffee industry in London, a supplier. This may help him secure employment more quickly.

When I went for my seawall walk yesterday (the weeks' forecast rains still miraculously holding off as they are again today) I was feeling pretty happy knowing how things seem to be working out so well for him.

Karen and I later watched the announcement later that Barak Obama had won the vote and become the 44th US President and we listened to all the speeches, some of which were incredibly moving. Jesse Jackson was in tears. Because of this I missed the hockey game but saw later that the Canucks shut out the Predators 4 – zip!

This morning there was evidence of footsteps on the scaffolding outside my window, and the clanking of metal pipes began. Within a couple of hours, the scaffolding was taken down.

Halleluiah, it’s the end of another era for me! This one seems to have begun with the installation of new windows in my apartment and the announcement by Basti my Kurdish friend and the window installer, "Baba, now you have new windows and next you will have to find a new woman."

Prophetic words although the woman he suggested I would find was only new to my apartment and I had a the great fun of opening my window the day after he said this and calling to him. He was on the scaffolding as usual and I said, "Basti, come over here, I want to show you something. Look into my kitchen." He did so.

"A new woman," I announced and his jaw gaped.

My ex-wife of 20 years and the mother of my children Karen had temporarily moved in with me as described in my last blog. She is still here nearly a month later but will hopefully soon find her own place.

So it is close quarters in my one room bachelor apartment but we are making do and so far have only bumped heads a few times.

This morning as they removed the scaffolding I looked for signs of my friend Basti but he was nowhere to be seen.

I wanted to tell him I would miss his singing outside my window but that I wouldn't miss the hammering and other noises!

Ah well, one must let go of the past to let the future begin!

One Day at a Time

2008-10-23T11:23:00.000-07:00

Yesterday after I updated my computer security downloads I went for a walk along the seawall. I wasn’t sure where I was headed but it was a sunny and colorful fall afternoon.

I decided to complete a cycle I have been avoiding and return to the Pauline Johnson memorial at 3rd Beach. It was on the day I visited it nearly 3 months ago that I suffered vertigo that sent me to hospital for a week and wiped out my balance.

I finally seem to be recovering and yesterday walked without a cane as I have been doing the past week.

I found that the going was a bit slow but I negotiated my way to Siwash Rock, my first long seawall walk since the accident.

There was a young woman sitting there along the seawall, her head bowed and I thought maybe she was praying but as I passed her, I saw she was writing in a notebook.

I said a short prayer in memory of my mom and then returned to the 3rd Beach concession stand to use the washroom.

I strolled for most of the walk as I didn’t have the energy to power walk. I found that I am still feeling a fair amount of vertigo, but it is not throwing me completely off balance as it was a few weeks back. However, I have to focus to keep from wobbling.

When I got home, Karen was there. She has been staying with me for 2 weeks now after being evicted from her Kits apartment by an unscrupulous landlord. Our son Kadir has gone to stay with his sister Nika, pending Karen finding them a new place to live.

She is also looking for work and so it has been a change of schedule for me which I have had to adjust to. I am usually awake now at 7 or 7:30 which is her morning schedule. This makes for a rather long work day.

But when I came to the decision to invite Karen to stay here temporarily, I also made the decision to deal with the change in my daily routine as I knew I would have to.

Eight years is a long time to be apart, and it has taken a lot of adjustment to deal with the presence of another person in my tiny bachelor apartment.

When Karen came to live with me nearly 30 years ago she gave me a card inscribed with lines on the strategy of climbing a difficult mountain. The lines ended with the words...you can do it by taking it one step at a time.

Little did I realize what lay ahead for us.

God willing we will still overcome the obstacles one day at a time.

The Rest of the Chorus

2008-10-07T13:28:00.000-07:00

It is Tuesday morning my day off, and the knock at my window didn’t come until nearly 9 a.m. as the workers were doing other jobs.

When Basti, my new Kurdish friend and window installer did knock, it was only to retrieve the extension cord he left on the floor of my apartment when he finished installing my windows yesterday. He did a great job by the look of things.

I think he was very happy with me because while installing the first window on Friday he spotted my flutes and noticed that among them was a Persian ney, which was given to me as a gift by one of the Mevlevi dervishes in the days when I played for their sema.

On Monday morning before starting work he mentioned that he would like to try it out, and asked if I would be willing to sell it.

Of course I already knew the answer, and I was pretty sure my decision was the right one. I handed him the ney, an instrument I had struggled with for months just trying to find a single note. He put it to his lips and immediately blew an intricate musical phrase, something that he had obviously done many times before.

While counting the finger holes, as though to verify what he had decided was the origin and type of the ney, he told me he wasn't able to find a good ney in Vancouver. I told him, "You don't have to search any more. This ney is my gift to you."

His face lit up like a young boy's and he began another dancing riff of wavering notes. "This is a really nice gift", he effused.

"Well, don't just sit there playing the ney all day", I admonished, "finish fixing my window". I had the old man tone of voice down pat.

"No problem Baba", he exclaimed and went straight to his tasks.

"And don't forget to lock up when you leave", I threw in for good measure as I left the apartment for the office.

We were both wearing huge grins.

When I came home last night, both windows were fully installed, caulked and the mess largely cleared away. He even remembered to turn my lights off this time.

A Chorus of One

2008-10-03T10:00:00.000-07:00

It is a cloudy Friday morning and right on cue Caiaphas the chief high priest climbed up the scaffolding and knocked on my window.

He was a bearded man of possibly Iranian origin maybe in his late 20’s just about the age of the Caiaphas in the Norman Jewison film, with a similar build and look. At first I thought I might ignore them as I was not yet out of bed, but he knocked again and I realized that the time for my old cracked window had finally arrived.

We conversed briefly and he didn’t seem to mind that I was standing in my undershorts. He asked if he could come in through the window and told me he would be using the electrical outlet inside.

He came in briefly and exited my apartment through the apartment door.

When he appeared back at my window on the scaffolding I explained that I was going to be saying my prayers and doing my exercises but to ignore me.

He replied in a Middle Eastern accent…”Cool, I do the same.”

I would not have been too surprised if echoing my Jesus Christ Superstar comment in yesterday’s blog, he had added, “…Mohammad is Cool!”

I proceeded through my prayers and exercises although the heavy mallet blows as he was knocking the old window frame out of position were a bit jarring. I am used to morning peace and quiet.

In between hammer blows he began singing in a very melodic voice and whistling. His presence was very harmonious once I was used to him being there. I can’t say that I recognized the tunes, but the spirit was obvious and totally recognizable.

I then prepared coffee and checked email, in full view of the window with this kindly stranger looking in and hammering away with a modicum of decorum I might add. It was as though he was holding back some force out of respect for the old man inside the apartment.

I prepared my morning cereal and when I sat back down at my keyboard we started to talk again. He told me he was Kurdish from Northern Iraq…and that he was the oldest of 6 children. He talked about how his brothers and sisters now lived in many different countries and when I asked if they communicated by letter, he smiled and said, “We talk to each other all the time on web cam!” Ah yes, it is a different world than the one I knew at his age.

As I ate my breakfast he proceeded to slowly dismantle the window. He told me that it was probably 50 years old as he extracted the original screws one by one. “They built in wood in those days”, he commented. They are trying to take out the old windows but keep the frame intact to hold the new ones.

The old windows were swing-out windows, and the new ones will have sliding panels so that they can be opened without having to secure them in a strong wind. It looks like the new ones will also have screens that can be used in summer.

He stepped back through the window into my apartment explaining that he now had to work from inside and very respectfully exited through my apartment door again.

So my intuition about the workmen was in the ballpark but so far it's a chorus of one.

A Chorus of Workmen

2008-10-02T11:41:00.000-07:00

This morning the hammering and clatter of tools and the sounds of workmen’s voices encroaches on my window once again.

They are re-doing the building envelope and the last 2 months they have been on the opposite side of my building and now for those of us on the western side, it is our turn.

Soon there will be scaffolding erected covering the entire west wall of the building and it will be draped in that porous green fabric that is now so familiar on many older buildings. This shroud will bring 24 hour twilight to my windows.

And soon I will pause before drawing my curtains, preparing for an unfamiliar face to be peering through the glass at me. I already do that since my windows face a neighboring apartment but seeing a person in another window will not be quite as startling as staring into the face of someone hunkered down on a plank two feet away.

Ah well, the good news is that in a couple of months it will all be over and when the really wet and cold weather arrives I will be safe and dry and warm. And the upside of living in a managed building is that my life is not structured around fending off rodents, insects and mould or keeping warm by turning on the oven, as I did one winter on Vancouver Island.

It looks like my intuition was accurate this morning. For the past few days the scaffolding has been retreating and advancing, a few windows at a time. What they put up during the day was taken down at night.

But today it is a full frontal assault. The scaffolding has now been erected from back to front of the building and they won’t be undoing that at the end of the shift.

I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see the cast of high priests in black capes and headgear from the 1960’s musical Jesus Christ Superstar climbing the rungs of the scaffolds singing “One thing I’ll say for him…Jesus is Cool”.

I just hope they sing and hammer in tune!

Letting Go

2008-09-21T09:55:00.000-07:00

It is another in a series of cloudy, cool September mornings. It may have rained but not heavily.

My understanding is that this is the last day of summer and that the first day of fall will be tomorrow, Monday 22nd.

I have now negotiated 3 days of work after my illness and all is well. Yesterday’s shift dragged a fair bit, and I was counting the minutes at the end but it was one of those slow days and of course the end eventually came, as it always does despite my impatience.

I noticed on the way home last night that I had more than usual vertigo. I seemed to be stumbling quite a bit, partially because it was dark and I couldn’t gauge the uneven surfaces of the sidewalk, but also I think because I was rushing to get home. It's like being slightly drunk.

I am trying to stay centered and balanced to the best of my ability. I am also trying not to panic or despair at my seemingly decreasing physical capacities. We all get old…it is a part of life.

There has been no news the past few days from family members, and I am assuming all is stable…God willing.

I get fragments of understanding about my inability to affect the outcomes in the lives of my close ones. All I can do is stay focused, pray and help out where I know I can or where I am asked to help.

At this time of the year my mind goes back to the mid 1990’s and our first fall in the Juniper Co-op in Kits. I am sitting at my little DOS based computer with amber text on the screen, noting how the colors of the fall leaves outside the window are reflected in the color of the text and feeling a certain sense of security that for this winter at least our family is safe and protected.

We spent close to six years there if my memory serves and it was only the last one that was truly challenging and painful as I knew my time was up and I would have to leave the company of my beloved family. Hopefully the pain of that year has been duly processed but my heart still aches when I think about it.

The theme of leaving seems to be a constant one in my life and for some reason the leaving has rarely been initiated by me, but always forced upon me by circumstance. If there is a life lesson I have had to learn repeatedly it is the one of letting go.

I am now in my 7th year in my little West End bachelor apartment and I believe it is the longest I have ever lived anywhere. Sometimes when I come home from a busy day I kiss the walls, giving thanks that I have this safe haven in a city where so many are sleeping on the sidewalks. But my recent stay in the hospital reminded me that nothing is written in stone, and that any moment our imagined independence can be taken from us.

These days I am realizing more and more that there is only One Source of security and strength, and it is greater than anything I could possibly create.

I am learning to trust in this.

...so get with it old boy!

2008-09-20T11:14:00.000-07:00

It's a rainy, cool September morning and I am heading back to work this morning for my 3rd work day since being off ill for a month.

It feels like the onset of fall, but the Equinox is not for a couple of days.

It's interesting and lucky for me that bountiful West Coast summer lingered on until the day before I returned to work, since I did not have a great time off for most of the month for reasons already blogged.

But the last week, each day was brilliantly sunny, and I was able to get down to the seawall almost every evening to watch the vivid sunsets, a reminder of the blessings in my life.

The return to work has not been stressful as I imagined it might be. I still have use my cane to get around the office, but my balance is really much better than it has been. And the youngsters (smile) in the office, far from making fun of me have been bastions of support.

I received so much love on my return to work, that it felt more like a family reunion than work and it was very empowering to feel I had actually been missed.

The only times during these days that I have actually felt really shaky have been on my evening walks home, once I am tired and the dizziness begins to set in.

I have kept up my blood pressure meds this time, although the blood pressure is once again up slightly due to the inevitable stress at work that is always present, even when you try to give your best.

My family doctor said it best: What job isn't stressful?

Or as the Buddhists say: Life is suffering.

I have to remind myself : Stress is part of the fabric of life, so get with it old boy!

An Almost Indescribable Evening

2008-09-06T11:33:00.000-07:00

It is a somewhat cloudy and hazy Saturday morning, proving the weather forecasters wrong again. They predicted hot and clear.

Last evening however was pristine and beautiful along the seawall and I stayed to enjoy the sunset. It was one of those evenings you don’t want to miss, echoing some of the beautiful sunsets I witnessed last year at this time.

I took my usual evening walk along Harwood to Burrard and then over to Hornby where I cut down to the seawall. I took my time, making my way back under the Burrard Street Bridge to Sunset Beach and then on to the Inukshuk at English Bay.

There was a group of about 12 Asian students enjoying the spectacle and enjoying themselves enjoying it, taking numerous digital photos and posing and making faces for the camera. Their good energy was infectious while at the same time remaining unobtrusive.

Since all the benches were being used, I stood by the rocks at water’s edge for some time enjoying the brilliant flash of sunlight reflected on the steely surface of the water, the thin layer of mist only partially obscuring the contours of the green land masses in the distance, and the almost spectral play of mist and color over the trees above the beach.

It was as though there was a rainbow whose colors were barely perceptible, shimmering just behind the evening light.

One of the students, a young girl clambered up on the rocks just behind me when my back was turned. I realized that they were trying to get shots of the sunset and my presence was obscuring the view, but she gave me a beautiful and unselfconscious smile as she posed for her friends.

I discreetly removed myself from the foreground and found a bench a few feet down the walkway where I paused to watch the sun’s slow progress towards the water, and the delightful play of light involved and to listen to the enchanting sounds of their voices and laughter.

As the sun continued its descent the evening chill began to creep in, and so I moved and walked back down towards the Aids Memorial, where I usually make my way back up to my apartment. I am still using my cane so the walk was slow and meditative.

I paused many times to admire the play of light over the surfaces of the trees and building, and could not help but think about my good friend Herb in his last years, and how he used to do the same thing.

A man appeared carrying a djembe or African style hand drum, settled himself on the rocks above the water and began a slow symphonic tone poem to the setting sun.

Just before I turned up the hill, I noticed a flash of bronze from the rock jetty reaching out into the bay. It was the golden sunlight catching the contours of the bare bottom of a young girl almost camouflaged among the grey rocks.

She had taken down her panties to pee and with the clumsy grace only a young girl can muster, she managed to raise her bum straight up in the air before finally settling down to a more sheltered position. She may have been about 11 or 12 years old, and her mother or older sister stood at the top of the rocks protecting and watching her.

When she finished she clambered up the rocks like a young gazelle and into the lap of the woman and they began to embrace and kiss each other with a kind of playful and erotic gentleness that can only arise between those bonded in spirit and love.

I was far enough away that they couldn't see me watching and I confess I didn't want to tear my eyes away from them; the dance between the two of them was so sublime.

The young girl could not seem to get enough of the hugging and kissing, and did everything she could to entice the other to continue. The older woman while trying to maintain decorum and some distance between them, was obviously enraptured by the energy of the young girl and finally gave up, becoming 12 years old herself and immersing herself in ecstasy of the moment.

At this point I gave up trying to climb the hill and found an empty bench once again to enjoy the full spectacle of the sunset, weather the evening chill, and watch the last of the tug-of-war between the two on the rocks until the deepening dusk drove them to their feet and back up to the seawall.

Now I wonder how I am going to find the words to describe this, I thought as I walked home and meditated on the shape and substance of tomorrow’s blog.

The things we take for granted...

2008-09-05T11:49:00.000-07:00

Good news...all things being equal I will return to work on September 18th.

My balance is still wonky but closer to normal than it’s been since mid-August when I was admitted to hospital.

I was speaking to one of my co-workers on Wednesday and she told me the same thing happened to her a while back, an air-born viral infection of the inner ear causing vertigo for over 2 weeks.

The things we don’t know! I joked that had they picked me up on the street, they would’ve thrown me in the drunk tank.

This week I was able to complete back to school shopping for son Kadir and so I am breathing easier.

When I go out each morning I usually hit the blood pressure kiosk at London Drugs to check things out but the great news is that my blood pressure/heart rate are now back to normal for the first time in several years.

I still carry my cane but at least until I get tired, I can mostly make my way carrying it under my arm, sort of like Fred Astaire heading out for a date with Ginger. Maybe there is slightly less spring in my step, but I’ve been told a top hat would not be entirely out of place!

It was the luck of the draw that when I went into the ER on August 13th, they told me my heart rate was irregular; fibrillation was the term they used. I was prescribed a beta blocker called Metoprolol while in hospital, as well as low dose aspirin. The Plendil I had been taking earlier this year did little to restore blood pressure to normal level and caused me bowel problems but the Metoprolol seems to be working. I take 50 mg twice a day and so far, so good.

I would like to thank all friends for their prayers and well wishes during a difficult period and for their active support. Also a huge THANK YOU to my co-workers for the lovely flowers and the beautiful get-well-soon card decorated with hand painted Echinacea blossoms and signed by so many there was no room left on the card.

For a guy who was told only a month ago that he might never walk normally again (when they were still talking stroke) I am counting my blessings.

The things we take for granted!!!

Cardiac Echo Pin-Up Guy!

2008-08-20T11:00:00.000-07:00

I woke around 6:40 a.m. nicely beating my alarm which was set for 7. I have a much better day if I don't wake up artificially.

I stepped out of bed certain that my balance would be more stable today, but as soon as I stood up I lurched sideways and had to grab for support. Ah well, I guess these things take time.

I began preparing for an early morning visit to the Cardiac Echo Lab at St. Paul’s, but although I planned to wait until afterwards to have breakfast I still managed my exercises and prayers beforehand.

I have a lot to be thankful for!

I dressed, grabbed my cane and wobbled up Mr. Magoo style (Waldo, is that you?) to Saint Paul's, taking my time.

They took the scheduled heart ultrasound at 8:15 a.m. It was one of the rare instances where a hospital exam took place without the wait. I guess in this type of test, any stress caused by waiting would affect the results.

The young technician had me take my shirt off, asked if I had any health problems and when I told her lymphoma she asked if I had lost weight.

“Ghastly isn’t it?” I quipped in re my skin and bones physique...and then I assured her I had always been this thin.

The good news was that my heart is in such good shape she wanted extra shots of it.

She told me the muscle and shape of my heart was near perfect.

“I don’t usually take this long” she gushed, “but I wanted to get more pictures.”

Who needs big biceps and a 6-pack?

A gift from Zeus

2008-08-19T10:41:00.000-07:00

It is Tuesday morning and I am home from the hospital. Wednesday night I was hit by a thunderbolt that literally knocked me off my feet. And I have been suffering vertigo ever since. Unfortunately this is only partially metaphoric.

As I mentioned in my blog Wednesday morning I was going off to locate the E. Pauline Johnson memorial in Stanley Park. I intended to have a short visit with the poet “in company” with my late mom who was a writer of poetry herself and an admirer of Ms Johnson. It would, I thought, be a perfect ending to my days off before returning to work Thursday.

I located the memorial with little problem near 3rd Beach in Stanley Park. It is a large rock in a grove of Maple trees inscribed with the poet’s Christian and Native names, and a likeness of her profile carved into the rock. There is a stream of water running through and over the rock face and into a shallow basin and another larger pool at the base of it.

I ran my hands over the rock and the contours of the poet’s carved face and examined all sides of the rock to gather more detail. On the right side I noticed what appeared to be a jutting shard of rock about 6 inches long, which on closer examination proved to be the carefully carved prow of a birch bark canoe emerging from the rock, and resting inside the canoe a small paddle.

I bathed my face in the water and said a few short prayers of thanksgiving before proceeding along the newly constructed trail/walkway on the ridge above Siwash Rock. This is one of the areas that are being restored after the destructive storm 2 years ago and it is a beauty.

After this I walked home, made dinner and then went down to the beach to watch the sunset.

About 7:30 p.m. I went home to check emails. I sat down at my computer and that is when Zeus threw his thunderbolt.

Everything on the computer screen began to scroll from right to left, I could not focus and I felt that I was going to fall off my chair. At the same time I was becoming violently nauseous and knew I had to get to the washroom. The only way to do that was on my hands and knees.

In a few seconds all my beautiful home cooked dinner was down the toilet but I continued to heave for about another ½ an hour. When the heaving stopped I attempted to stand up. There was absolutely no inner co-ordination and I just toppled over to one side, like a stuffed toy.

I got back up on my hands and knees and rested my forehead on the bathroom floor. I stayed that way for about another 15 minutes and then tried to stand again. Same thing! And to make matters worse, the heaving up began again.

I knew I had to do something quickly but didn’t want to involve family members and worry them and so I called 911.

Rather than go through all the details I will just compact everything by saying I spent 5 days in Saint Paul’s, during which time I had hardly any sleep, was told I might never walk again, had numerous doctors and nurses poking and prodding me at all hours of the day and night, and was suffering severe hallucinations from the Gravol they had mainlined into my veins.

Eventually an MRI scan confirmed that I had not suffered a stroke.

The attending doctor’s prognosis was that it was an inner ear viral infection which is sometimes mistaken for a stroke.

The vertigo problem continues though. On my second day home I am still wobbling around as though I am drunk, and have to use a cane when I go outside for a walk. If the vertigo persists I will have to visit a Neuromuscular Disease specialist.

I have to go back to Saint Paul’s tomorrow for a heart ultrasound test.

When Zeus tosses a thunderbolt, he doesn’t mess around. And it can sure screw up your whole routine!

Another short tour of my world...

2008-08-13T11:28:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I made an early morning decision to try again. I tried once before but failed.

My mission: get school clothes and supplies for my son Kadir who is now going into grade 10 this September thanks to a detour through summer school to pass Science & Socials, which he managed to do.

We have already agreed to go together in a couple of weeks, but thinking of the back-to-school bargains we might miss if wait until the month end, I made my way in the humid morning to the Pacific Mall where within walking distance there are a multiple choice of shops.

By the time I had made it through Sears, I gave up. There is no way of choosing suitable clothes for a 14 year-old that will work from the viewpoint of a 14-year-old. In about a half hour I was dead tired and burned out from my attempt to power shop and so made my way down to Coal Harbour.

The first thing I noticed was that it was warmer outside than it was in the mall, but I needed the exercise and still not sure of my game plan, I walked down Howe to the Pan Pacific Hotel and then segued into the food court as I hadn’t eaten that morning.

The sight of all that fast food and people eating with gusto is enough to make anyone lose their better judgment and this time, despite health issues I opted for a serving of Taco Time Mexi-Fries Deluxe. This is a sloppy mix of fried reconstituted potatoes topped with melted cheese and sour cream. The only saving grace was a small portion of diced fresh tomatoes over the top of everything.

It is the sort of dish that guarantees an instant rise in cholesterol levels but when I looked at the picture of the A&W Hamburger that kept whispering my name I felt my choice wasn’t too bad. This would be less filling but give me the strength to continue my walk, and the motivation to walk off the calories with some gusto.

By the time I reached the Harbour Air flotillas I realized that I was going to attempt a full loop of Stanley Park in the opposite direction that I normally walk it. Mind you, I don’t usually begin my walk after already walking for an hour.

So, keeping the water on my close right, I inched my way along the seawall finding out for the first time that if I circled the Westin Bayshore (keeping it on my left) I did not have to cut away from the water to get to the park. And I also discovered for the first time that this walk is part of the Trans Canada Trail.

These days all sorts of high level toxic construction is going on around Canada Place with the new Convention Centre and so I was also spurred on by the realization that once I rounded the lighthouse at Brockton Point the ocean air would kick in, refreshing my lungs and spirit.

By the time I got to the Yacht Harbor and was approaching Lumberman’s Arch I could feel my body flagging. This was where I had to begin to focus, watching my posture and just putting one foot ahead of the other. They seemed to be coming down on the pavement rather clumsily and hard.

So I picked up the pace, passing a few young woman who were stretched out in a line taking up most of the walkway.

Clipping past all that young energy and beauty gave me a further boost and I started to get a second wind.

Before I knew it I had passed the bowsprit of the Empress of Japan, the littlest mermaid with those brazen eyes looking out from under her facemask and was entering 17th century China.

Along the seawall on both sides of the bridge a dozen or so middle-aged Asian Canadian fisherman in floppy hats were sitting on 5 gallon plastic buckets and casting their lines into the surf.

A few of them appeared to have small catches but I curbed my inclination to ask how the fish were biting. After all they were blissfully enjoying the peaceful silence, the sound of the waves, a temporary release from the big city energy…and did I really want to know?

On the Western side of the bridge a light drizzle began but fizzled out in the bright cloudy haze above Siwash Rock where in 2003 I threw flowers from mom’s funeral wreath into the surf. Every time I pass this way I think about the poet Pauline Johnson (The Song My Paddle Sings) and remind myself that one day I must find her memorial in the park.

My mom wrote poetry too and Pauline Johnson was a contemporary she admired and in my mind the two of them are connected. If I do find that marker, I know mom will be visiting her with me.

In fact, maybe it is still early enough today to go and search for it…

A Dream Bead Game

2008-07-16T11:44:00.000-07:00

In the wee hours of this morning I had a very unusual dream.

It was almost a waking dream in that the experience in the dream felt real.

I was sitting on the ground with two or three young boys and they were playing a kind of bead game around me, sorting out and arranging strings of colored objects into equally balanced segments. The objects seemed made from nature such as seed pods, beans, stones and the like.

They were placing these arrangements on the ground much in the way Buddhist monks create sand mandalas, which sometimes take weeks to finish and which they then erase after the ceremony.

There seemed to be some sort of ritual involved although it all seemed like play. As they played though, I became hypnotized, gradually losing consciousness and I seemed to hear them discussing the positive effects of meditation and trance on cancer.

It was as though I was also seeing textbooks set out in front of me on this subject.

Finally someone, a much older person, seemed to be speaking and telling the boys that I was getting weaker. Then this someone told the boys to tell me to cross my legs which they did and then told the boys I was going to lose consciousness.

At this point I had the experience I mentioned above.

I didn’t lose consciousness but rather snapped into a state of timeless alertness outside of the dream consciousness. It was as though I had entered empty space and it felt very serene and yet devoid of emotion. I remained in this state for what seemed a few moments and then woke from my dream to go to the bathroom.

It seemed that I had stepped directly from this state of emptiness into my waking state and didn’t pass back through the dream realm first.

It was astonishing and wowed me, so much so that I looked into the bathroom mirror to see if I could see any change in my face.

Nope, it was the same tired sleepy face looking back but the person inside didn’t feel that way at all.

Nor does he feel that way this morning.

Averyville Meditation

2008-07-10T10:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I walked over to the stretch of beach just past 2nd Beach where my friend Kent Avery balances rocks. Once again he was not present but the stones he balanced a week or so ago were still in place.

I sat on a bench opposite the tallest and most complex of these natural sculptures to listen to the waves and to watch passers by as the stones caught their attention and slowed them down.

The word “glue” is the most widely used in the comments I have overheard over the past couple of years. It seems that folks can’t get their heads around the concept of balance.

“Oh, they are just glued there…”

“He uses glue…”

“It’s impossible; they have to be glued in place…”

Yesterday a group passed by and the women made passing comments about the stones being balanced but one of the men in their group refused to get it. He dropped behind them and tried to slow them up, dissuading them from their false beliefs.

He had his thumb stuck out like some dumb hitchhiker, pointing back in the direction of the rocks and shouted forward to his group, “They’re glued; they’re not balanced. What are you talking about?”

The fact that they were largely ignoring him spurred him on. The whole troupe of them disappeared from my sight around a curve in the seawall, but minutes later he came back like a creature from a Wile E. Coyote cartoon, looking in all directions to see if anyone was watching him and then he lowered himself over the edge of the wall onto the rocks below.

He approached one of the smaller structures, balanced on a rock that was fairly accessible and fumbling with both hands made a scrambling climb to the top, where he stood upright and then paused to look over at me…the only person in sight at the moment.

He looked back over his shoulder in the direction his group had gone hoping to prove his point but his body language told that they were no longer watching.

Then he positioned his hand over the topmost tiniest rock (one that he was certain was glued in place) and prepared to try and pick it up to prove his point. He looked at me one more time as he stood in live action pose and then looked back at the stones.

It was as though time was suspended, and all stood still. He didn’t move. I felt that there was a force field shielding the rocks from his intervention.

His hand was only inches away, and then after about a minute where nothing happened, he gestured with his finger (but did not touch) the littlest rock, jumped back down, scaled the seawall and hurried off to join his group.

There was something sacred about that moment in time when this obvious skeptic suspended his judgment which hung in balance like the stones he stood before.

Later on another group biked by where many were pausing to take cell phone snapshots and a woman shouted back to the man following her, “Take a picture, Harry!”

“I don’t have to”, he bravely responded. “I’ll remember it!”

I wish Kent had heard that one.

Wednesday, 12:05 p.m.

2008-07-09T12:05:00.000-07:00

It was a pristine and warm day yesterday with a pleasant cooling breeze coming in from the ocean.

I had more time than usual on my Tuesday off as I had completed my laundry the night before on my return from work.

After 2nd guessing myself a couple of times, I opted to walk up for a haircut as it would have to be done in the next week anyway, and I reasoned that I would have a better day at the annual office “pitch and putt” on Friday without an unruly mop of damp, sweaty hair to deal with. I got it chopped down to finger length and the lady trimmed my eyebrows too. It’s as close as I have been to my 1986 India look in a while (except of course now I am older and less easy on the eyes.)

After doing a bit of grocery shopping I returned home to find the rebate cheque for my recent eye exam and purchased eyeglasses in the mail and so I walked up to the bank to deposit it and then segued over through the park to 2nd Beach to capture a modicum of that glorious sunshine.

I stopped at the concession stand and bought myself a Hagen-Daz ice cream bar, although I usually steer clear of sweets. But the cold ice cream eaten standing in the shade of a maple tree by the public pool was a pleasure that had me remembering how much I enjoyed this sort of thing as a child in Winnipeg. Of course back then it was two scoops of a no-name brand in a papery but edible cone.

I decided to walk up to “Averyville” (David Campbell’s coined phrase for the stretch of beach on which Kent Avery practices his art) to see if my friend was at work balancing rocks on the beach but though there was still strong evidence of the articulate work he’d done last week (still standing despite the threat of wind, waves and mischievous humans) Kent was nowhere to be seen.

I found a shady bench where I parked myself for a while longer listening to the soft cacophony of passers by, wheeled apparatus, beach splashers and the intermittent calls of crows and gulls.

I had planned to walk further but it was simply too hot and so after sitting and enjoying a short rest, I took my time returning along the seawall heading in an easterly direction.

I had no idea no idea what the rest of my day held in store, but was confident that it would remain a great day no matter what happened.

And it did!

Canada Day 2008

2008-07-02T11:11:00.000-07:00

It is Wednesday morning and a sad and nostalgic one for me, knowing what I do today.

After a great Canada Day spent with my daughter and later alone I received an email from Ky saying that he’s lost his best friend Tommy, the one he went to Mexico with.

Apparently a couple of Ky’s friends were on a rooftop and Tommy fell…they had him on life support for several days but finally couldn’t save him.

My son wrote to tell me that his boss wants him to return for the funeral and then go back to NY to continue helping him.

By the tone of his email, Ky is in shock but I wouldn’t be surprised to find him back here in a day or so. He feels badly that he is not here to give support to his friends.

I was able to offer some words of condolence but nothing can repair what has happened and it is a tragic blow for a young man. The same thing happened to my son Chad at about the same age and I was not able to be there to console him, although he told me about it briefly when we met at the Duncan Folk Festival the year after I left the island.

I understand more so now why he cried when I held him in my arms during that brief window.

Anyway, yesterday was a beauty of a sunny summer day and Nika biked over to join me in a walk along the seawall, as her guy was in Whistler on the job.

We stopped for a coffee at Starbucks and walked with our drinks up towards 2nd Beach and past to Siwash Rock to say hi to grandma…it would have been her 86th birthday.

Along the way we paused at the corner where my friend Kent Avery was balancing rocks as he does every summer, watched by a large group of people with cameras who stopped to take photos and look at or buy his photos which were distributed along the seawall’s edge. Many made comments in his open notebook placed there for that purpose and most that did made a donation of some kind.

We talked briefly and on the way back we got to witness him climbing easily onto a large rock and putting a final stone in place at the top of an already impossibly high column of them. He held it in place for several moments, tapping it lightly at the end as though to channel some of his energy into it. There was no single moment of insecurity or hesitation in his movements.
The silent crowd was wowed and awed as were we.

He is at least my age too, and with his long grey hair flowing out from underneath his tall straw hat looks a little like a modern day Gandalf.

I was able to give Nika a copy of the disk of photos of our trip to India in 1986 (which I recently had copied from the color slides) when she was only two and afterwards she biked over to Kits with another copy for her mom.

I then took an afternoon nap and woke about 7 p.m. when I headed back down to the seawall to enjoy the sunset.

Many people had their little Canadian flags displayed discreetly on their clothing or tucked into a breast pocket. There was something gentle and non-ostentatious about all this. Families were quietly picnicking and playing along the grassy areas and on the beach. There was little or no noise…

As the late afternoon deepened into evening the sun dropped behind the rippling shadows of the landscape leaving a soft aureole of gold and lavender in the sky, and I continued to walk and sit alternately watching the people as they passed.

Finally I ascended the cobbled walkway at the Aids Memorial and made my way up to the grassy knoll at the edge of the parking lot where I took one last look at the darkening beach.

Then I turned homeward, at peace but still unaware of the unsettling news awaiting my return.

Late June Update...

2008-06-29T11:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning I got my first real taste of this summer of 2008, as I woke early to prepare for work and set off to pick up my new eyeglasses before my shift.

I have purchased most of my glasses at Opticana in Vancouver for the last 20 years or so as they have a great deal where the frames are free...and they aren't bad frames either.

Recently my doctor advised me to have my eyes tested as there have been a few issues with my vision lately but when I went for the test the news was all good. My vision has improved slightly in the past 7 years since my last exam.

The only thing I needed was new prescription for my computer glasses as I spend a full working day gazing at a computer screen. Fortunately they've dumped the old style monitors in favor of the new flat screen displays which are much easier on the eyes.

As it has been a cool summer I set off with jacket in hand but a few blocks from my home I was so warm that I realized I would not have to put it on. The sun was shining brilliantly and pedestrians in tank tops and shorts abounded. (Well, they weren't actually leaping but more smiling and sauntering.)

I took my time as I had a couple of hours before my shift actually started and so I ambled along Bute Street, crossing Thurlow by St. Paul's Hospital and making my way to the 500-block of Seymour where Opticana has just moved to avoid the crush of the Canada Line construction along the Granville corridor.

I passed the open door of a pub on Dunsmuir, just east of Granville and was inundated by the sheer volume inside. People were cheering and pressed up to the bar and crowding the entrance way and I realized that Spain had just scored a goal. It is soccer season, and in many ways it outdoes hockey for sheer spectator exuberance locally.

I stopped briefly to peer in, but the crowd was too dense to make out anything other than waving arms, lifted mugs and people slapping each other on the back. It brought back memories of the Canucks last stand this winter, though.

A few minutes later I arrived at the shop and was happy to see that I was the only customer. The technician who had originally taken my order was there to fit the glasses and it took only a few moments.

Soon I was headed into work re-orienting my balance with the new glasses as they made me feel like I was standing a couple of inches higher off the pavement and while I walked I was thinking about my lack of blogging this month. My friends and family who follow it will wonder if I am still alive and so this morning I have entered this piece just by way of saying hi.

The eagalicmusic website is on hold right now, as my friend Danny is in the midst of a bigger project and so is unable to complete the steps necessary for me to continue posting.

In the next few weeks I hope this will be remedied and I can continue posting chapters of my book and new photos.

In the meantime, I guess I'll be seeing my computer screen at work a bit more clearly.

Eagalic Music - 2

2008-06-11T12:39:00.000-07:00

It's Wednesday and I am just finished up my chores before heading out for my seawall walk.

It has been a busy couple of days for me as I have been editing chapters of my book for posting on the new website and scanning images and photos taken over the years that relate to the subject.

Danny and I seem to be in synch as while I was posting yesterday, he also updated the site with a great new look and feel.

However, he is still writing code to make it function and the homepage somehow disappeared yesterday.

Slowly but surely though, we will make it happen.

I have decided it would be a great idea to post complete mp3 files of my songs, one per month which will be freely downloadable to those who visit the site.

It is interesting how inspiring this labour is to me, after so many years plugging away at bits and pieces of the puzzle.

When I first emailed Danny some of my ideas, I said that the mission statement for the website would be subtitled "Breaking out of the Box".

This has very literal meaning, as most of my writings are stored in journals and notebooks that have not seen the light of day in years, but are packed away in cardboard boxes that fill up my closet and floor space.

I have misplaced some crucial boxes over the years and in the mid-70's having decided to chuck it all and go fruit picking in the Okanagan I burned a few of them. In retrospect I wish I hadn't done so as there were some quite miraculous things recorded in those journals which are now lost for ever.

The Mexican Federales also took some of my travel notebooks from me when they threw me in jail in La Paz (mid 70's), which were detailed accounts of my attempted sojourn to the Andes which took me as far as Central America.

Anyway, to all my friends who visit my whirld-dervish blog, I am still here and there will be lots more to come, God willing.

Eagalic Music Dot Com

2008-06-04T12:46:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was one of those rain-soaked, chilly, and gray Vancouver days where you just want to stay indoors.

Chaya came over just before noon yesterday, braving the rain on her new bike and flush from her hot yoga class. We had agreed to going for lunch and so we hiked up to English Bay along Harwood Street.

We settled for falafel on Denman and shared a single portion, as I am never very hungry at noon.

She gave me the lowdown on her recent cruise to Alaska, showed me pictures and shared more bad tidings in regard to Kadir cutting classes and possibly having to go to summer school this year to catch up. She also hinted that something good was up with Ky but that he wanted to tell me himself.

We parted at Denman and Davie, she to take the seawall ride home and me to a haircut and then shopping at Safeway.

I didn’t get to my email until later but when I did there was a note from Ky telling me that the company he works for a very successful local venture is sending him to New York for a month as a café consultant. They want him to train a manager for them and to help implement structure in line with and up to the standards of the local venues.

I could not be happier for him and no one deserves this chance more than he does as he has worked incredibly hard starting back in grade 10, balancing school and work to pay his own way.

He let me know he has been missing my blog lately and so I told him that I have been working on editing and posting chapters of my book on my new website which is still under development.

For those of you who might want to check progress, visit:

http://www.eagalicmusic.com/

Once around the park and sex still sells...

2008-05-22T11:51:00.000-07:00

It is Thursday morning and I am up and preparing for work.

Yesterday I started off towards 2nd Beach and somewhere along the way made the decision to continue first to Siwash Walk (a prayer and a talk with mom) and then onwards right around the seawall, my first complete tour in over 2 years since the devastating wind storm.

The tide was way out when I started and had a deep reddish tinge but even at low tide with the eastern base of Siwash Rock exposed to the sun and wind, the western side was still taking the direct hit of surf, which smacked the base of the rock in a slamming boom, white fingers of spray hurtling skyward.

I was bareheaded but carrying a cap for backup as the sun was quite intense although the air was cool enough for me to keep my jacket on.

By the time I got to the concession stand at the water park just past the bridge I decided I had best fuel up as the walk was taking its toll and I hadn’t eaten and so I ordered a small fries and polished that off quickly, before making a pit stop in the washroom and then continuing on.

I passed HMCS Discovery, the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club and the Vancouver Rowing Club before heading under the overpass to Lost Lagoon. At this point with the sun directly in my face, I opted to put on my cap shielding my face with its brim.

I meandered around the eastern side of the lagoon loitering with the ducks and swans and then made my way directly across the park to 2nd Beach where I checked the time. It was now approaching 5 and I had started my walk about 1:30 p.m.

As I looked out at the water, I saw that the tide was now mostly in and that the reddish tinge to the water had been replaced by a cloudy ochre.

I was walking pretty slowly by this time and decided that I would avoid the trip to Safeway and go straight home.

A young man his back against a log was strumming his guitar at English Bay. Two young girls who had just braved the surf sat giggling and shivering on a bench, wrapped in their towels. They were the only ones brave enough to attempt a swim. It was still quite cool, and I still had my jacket on.

Once home, I fought off the urge to lie down and repaired to my computer where I checked emails and caught up on my journal. I watched a bit of news on TV and made myself something to eat.

I was looking forward to the final episode of American Idol which I have been following closely this year. Last night the judges all agreed that David Archuleta with his masterful performance of all three songs had delivered a knockout blow and that David Cook didn’t stand a chance. I thought the same.

We were all wrong. Sex still sells in pop music and despite David Cook’s tears of sure defeat the night before and his weak delivery of a song chosen by mogul Clive Davis that seemed to be a swan song and kiss of death, the girls in my office were right.

David Cook won by 12 million votes!

Thank You for these gifts...

2008-05-13T15:42:00.000-07:00

It is Tuesday morning and it is a cold and wet one, perfect for introspection, writing and chores.

This week I have been dealing with some difficult and intimate issues that have taken my mind away from blogging, but due to the help and wisdom of family and friends I have been able to work my way through much of it.

Before I get into the subject of this post, I should preface my post with the comment that my blood tests (thankfully) have come back stable and that I don't have to return to the hematologist until August.

This Sunday I was watching The Hour of Power on TV which I enjoy doing from time to time, given my Catholic background and the absence of church on Sunday in my adult life. I especially enjoy watching Reverend Robert H. Schuller's son speak, and admire the way he has carried on his father’s ministry with such grace and elegance.

He was talking about prayer and our relationship with God.

In the beginning of learning how to pray he suggested, it is kind of like a child asking Santa Claus for gifts. Please give me this and give me that, etc.

But as we grow in faith, we begin to realize that everything that happens to us in life whether pleasant or unpleasant at first, is there to help us grow and develop as human and spiritual beings. And when we start to get this, our prayers change from prayers of supplication to prayers of thankfulness.

When things are hurting us, this element of thankfulness is very hard to get. So the beginnings of faith are an instruction to help us learn this difficult lesson.

When we were children and practicing Roman Catholics, we sat around the table as a family for meals and began each meal or almost every meal with a grace before meals:

Bless us O Lord and these Thy gifts,
which we are about to receive
from Thy Bounty through Christ Our Lord, Amen.

As children we didn’t always want to do this but it was rule of the home.

When my girls were young and especially after returning from India, where my Sufi teacher told me that I should return to the habit of attending Church on Sundays, I decided that it would be a good habit to adopt grace before meals.

I couldn’t bring myself to going back to the old habit of church on Sundays and putting my own children through a formal Christian education with all the dogma surrounding it but I realized the importance of faith and the giving of thanks. So I invented my own version:

Thank You for these gifts of earth,
Heaven sent and brought to birth,
keep us healthy in Your sight,
and sharing in Your Living Light, Amen.

We started most meals with this blessing, including meals with friends.

As the children grew older, began attending school and learning from their peers, they became more and more reluctant to participate in this family ritual which (especially if friends were present) became an embarrassment.

But as far as I was concerned and although I wished we could continue on in the innocence of our early family togetherness, the seed had been planted and must be allowed to grow in its own way and its own time.

Over the years I have continued this prayer though I have shortened it to the single line…

Thank You for these gifts...

And today I am reciting it with a deep and profound gratefulness and thanks for the support of my family and friends in helping me through this difficult week.

Along with all at work who have given me support this week I especially need to thank my sister Marilyn and all of my children who are turning out far wiser than their dad.

Snowball Satori on the Osborne Street Bridge

2008-04-29T13:09:00.000-07:00

This morning I am thinking about an email slideshow my sister Jeannie sent me yesterday called Old Winnipeg. It is snapshots of the city from the early 1900’s through to the 50’s.

There is an aerial photo of the 50's Red River Flood, the same one in which dad drove us over the Redwood Bridge in his Model A Ford, with the water halfway up the sides of the car. That's a very vivid memory. I remember the overpowering sense of awe and excitement that we were actually driving through the river to get downtown from our East Kildonan home.

There is also a shot of the Osborne Street Bridge from the opposite side of Assiniboine River from the Legislative Buildings. Up on the dome is the famous prairie Golden Boy holding a sheaf of wheat.

This brought back another very vivid memory of my youth.

At this time, I think I was living on my own in the rooming house on Balmoral Street but I can’t remember clearly. I could’ve been much younger. I don't remember why I was walking over the bridge.

It was winter and I had walked past the Legislative buildings and was heading across the Osborne Bridge on the right hand side.

I had begun making snowballs and was heaving them over the side of the bridge and down onto the ice far below when I spotted a shopping bag on the ice. I guess someone had thrown that over the side.

From where I stood it looked about the size of a postage stamp.

I can’t remember verbalizing anything but a feeling of invincibility came over me and I knew I could hit the bag.

I rolled and tamped down a perfect snowball and winding up, threw it with all my might over the side of the bridge and as far out as I could.

It spun out and away from me and slowly began arcing downward. There was the beautiful sensation of watching it descend as if in slow motion toward the surface of the river and then there was the incredibly satisfying smack as the ball hit the paper bag dead centre and exploded in a puff of white.

I knew better than to try it twice and diminish this glorious feeling of accuracy.

As I continued on my walk, I knew with a calm and peaceful certainty that there was nothing that I could not accomplish in life if my intent was pure.

* Note: Satori is a Japanese Zen Buddhist term for a moment of enlightenment.

All Systems Go!

2008-04-26T11:10:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was an all systems go day! It was one of those days where the timing is all right and everything just seems to work.

While preparing for my shift, I made a decision to stop at the clinic on the way to the office and get that blood test over with. The form has been tucked behind the mirror in my bathroom hallway, peeking out at me since last April when I agreed to return for more tests in a year.

The hematologist wanted me to return in 3 months but the tests were stressing me so much that I decided I would rather give myself a full year of freedom from stress. That year has passed in the blink of an eye!

The hematologist had written "end of April 2008" on it, which mean't if I didn't use it in the next few days I would have to make an appointment with her to get another one, should I opt to take the test.

I had discussed my options with my daughter Chaya when we went for her birthday dinner last Wednesday and although she said she would support whatever decision I made, her first reaction was that I should probably take the test.

I decided that I would not be honest with myself if I didn’t follow through on it. I told myself that if I got to the lab and there was a huge line up I would pass.

It was a toss up between St. Paul’s and the clinic across the street so I opted for the clinic as I had a bad experience last time at St. Paul’s and there was usually a line up at the lab.

When I got to the clinic there was only one person ahead of me, an elderly lady who had gone up in the elevator with me. While they were still processing her paperwork, an attendant called me to the desk and updated my profile.

I had not been to this lab since living in the Co-op 8 years ago and so everything had to be updated. However, they called me in first as the lady was still not done at the front desk. I could not beleive my good luck as I usually have to wait at least a half hour or more.

The lab technician, a man in his mid 30’s, was very good at his job and the test was painless and quick leaving no bruising, in sharp contrast to the one I had last year at St. Paul’s.

The hematologist's office is in the same building and so I walked over to make a follow up appointment but the receptionist told me to wait until next week when they got the results as an appointment might not be necessary. I held up crossed fingers and we both laughed.

Since I still had time before my shift, I walked over Sears to see if I could get a replacement for my belt which is one or two strands away from snapping. They were on sale and I got a new one for just under $11.

At work, my favorite desk was free and so I settled in for my shift and was immediately presented with a small royal blue shopping bag emblazoned with a gold Maui Coast Hotel logo, inside of which was a stuffed miniature humpback whale jumping through a lifebuoy which reads Maui Coast Hotel * Kihei. The hotel staff had come for a visit bearing these gifts for the call center agents.

Kihei was where Paul Reps spent his winters (he drew me a rough map of the area when he directed me to the Maui Zendo in Haiku in the late 70's) and it was where Karen and I went after getting married.

The shift was long as the call volume was low but at home, despite feeling tired I opted to try and re-install my antivirus program, the one I bought for $15 at London Drugs.

Yes, beleive it or not I am still wrestling with this problem which I thought I had solved and although a co-worker suggested a freeware program called AVAST (I tried to install that a couple of days back but my download was corrupted) I decided to give BitDefender one last go round.

This time the update while registering the software was about 1 MB more than last time but I completed it just before my connection timed out. Then I logged back in under another user name, to finalize my update and for the first time in a month my computer is fully protected.

Windows Security Center shows all those little green lights on, a fitting closure to a successful day.

With luck I will not have to do the computer update neutron dance again anytime soon!

That Eureka Moment

2008-04-08T13:09:00.000-07:00

It is Tuesday afternoon and I treated myself to a late sleep in.

When I returned from shift last night I went straight to the installation of my antivirus software which had failed numerous times in the past week.

This is a new set of woes with a new program, not the same ones from a couple of months back. Since then my computer has been unprotected and so I have avoided using the wireless connection.

Two weeks ago I saw that London Drugs had this program on sale for $14.99 and since my old program had expired I bought it.

After the first few days I was starting to regret it, thinking that maybe the low price was because the program didn’t install properly or that it was an attempt to dump product that was not popular.

I had shared my struggles with a few co-workers, one of whom kindly offered to help me install it. But I had already decided that this was my version of playing with toys, and that I was going to soldier through, not sweat the small stuff (as I had done on the last go-round) and achieve success on my terms.

There is nothing like that Eureka moment, when sometime you have been struggling with finally happens to fall into place.

This time, the evening before I had carefully prepared my laptop by doing a thorough cleanup of files, registry and the morning I left for work I defragmented the hard drive, an operation which took about an hour and a half.

After a busy day at work I came home, took off my work clothes, washed up and poured myself a glass of red wine. Then I took the antivirus program box out of my desk, set my laptop up and began the installation process. Once the disk is in the drive it is merely a matter of waiting and ticking the appropriate boxes.

While the initial install was completing I was thinking about my meeting at lunch with an older man from Japan. I had sat down with my bowl of soup and he was sitting nearby on a chair holding a backpack and he kept smiling in my direction and nodding.

When I began to eat, he started up a conversation in very broken English, asking me if I was from here. He used his hand to gesture to the floor, and it was almost as though he was asking if I lived at the Bistro where I was eating.

But his drift was easy to get, as it is when one meets a fellow traveler no matter what the language barrier and where there is no mis-intention. This has happened to me on so many journeys in my past. Deep things are discussed using limited means.

He told me he was from Okayama and had traveled up from San Diego via Amtrak and that he would be headed back to Japan at 5:30 the following morning. With everything he communicated there was a laugh and a child-like smile.

He told me he was 72 and that he had spent the last few days skiing at Whistler.

“You are a braver man that I am,” I countered and he laughed loudly.

He told me that when he was young he liked to “play karate” and I could see his training in his bearing and in his eyes. I guessed that was why at 72 he had the stamina and balance to go skiing, something I have never tried and cannot imagine myself doing.

The subject of our talk drifted from Zen Buddhism, to sports, to Shinto, to Aikido, to children (he has three of his own), to the size of his town (8000 house, bigger than a-Stanrey Park) he quipped in his cute accent.

He commented on my healthy meal, salad and soup and so I began to describe my first discovery of author George Oshawa who had cured himself of cancer by adopting the diet of the Buddhist monks in Japan. But I didn’t have to say much. He was already familiar with whole story.

His presence was very soothing and didn’t disturb me at my meal, which would normally be the case if someone was asking a lot of questions while I was trying to eat and then hurry back to work in time for my shift.

I had already told him that I was going back to work and so when I finished I stood to leave. He stood too and reached to shake my hand and so I bowed to him Japanese fashion and he returned the bow and then gave me the gentlest of handshakes, thanking me for talking to him.

When I left I had more energy than when I sat down and it came to me that this meeting was a real gift, something I had not had to go in search of.

Back at the ranch, after my initial software install I logged on to the internet via dial up as I don’t have a wireless portal in my apartment.

I have a an hour and a half window before the connection shuts down and my update completed fully with only 2 minutes to spare.

It was all systems go and a fulfilling Eureka moment for me.

And last night I slept like a baby.

Hot Pot Deliberations at Posh

2008-03-26T17:46:00.000-07:00

Danny picked me up at my place after work as planned and we drove over to the restaurant on Burrard and Broadway where he’d reserved a table. It is called Posh and is Japanese style Hot Pot.

When we arrived around 6 p.m. there were only a few customers. In fact, when we first tried the door it stuck, and it looked like they had not opened for business yet. We peered through the windows and seeing people inside, tried again and entered.

It is a new restaurant, very modern in look and feel with a 4-way hi-definition TV mounted over the tables which can be viewed from any place in the room. They didn’t have the Canucks game on though and besides, Danny and I had a subject we needed to discuss: the website.

There is a gas cooking ring on every table on which is sitting an empty cast iron pot. The server, a thin young man elegantly dressed in jet black, bought us a sheaf of slips on which the menu was displayed, that being a variety of uncooked vegetables, mushrooms, tofu, noodles and meats that are carefully sliced and prepared to deliver to the table.

I didn’t have a clue how to proceed so Danny directed the process asking if I wanted this or that and writing a number 1 to 4 beside the item which indicated how many portions. The meats were delivered in small square russet-lacquered trays, in this case pork and beef thinly sliced and artfully displayed and the rest arrived in a heaping white ceramic bowl.

Because Danny was driving we ordered tea only and it was a kind of deep orange colored and flavorful brew with evidence of the tea leaves and stems in the cups.

Although how it actually happened escaped my attention, at one point I realized that the iron pot had been filled with what looked to be sliced cabbage and a variety of greens, the burner lit and water and a kind of teriyaki sauce added to turn it into a flavorful soup. I think Danny might have been doing this as I was busy talking.

The atmosphere was relaxing, kind of like cooking and talking over a campfire. We added portions of whatever we had ordered into the soup and Danny broke an egg (there were 2 uncooked eggs served on a plate) and dipped the meat in the raw egg before adding the thin strips to the pot.

I asked Danny to explain the rudiments of the web design system he is planning on using as things are quite different now from the basic HTML code I used to design my website pages years ago.

We discussed the concept of the site and what kind of message and feel I planned to deliver. Danny is trying to guide me in a direction that will help the site pay for itself at least and so we exchanged ideas on that subject.

Finally we were full and talked out. Although we had been there over an hour and I had not stopped eating, the bill came to under $30 before tip. When we turned to leave, I saw that the tables were now full, and a line-up gathering at the door.

It is easy to see why such a place would quickly become a favorite dinner hangout.

My Future Home?

2008-03-21T11:30:00.000-07:00

It is the second day of spring, Friday morning and I am preparing for work.

This morning when I looked out the window there was a gorgeous mix of heavy, rich dark cloud and brilliant sunlight spilling into it from the east. It is still cold though, and it rained again last night.

Yesterday I went back to work for the first day of my work week and it was my friend and supervisor Luella’s final shift. The office celebrated with a pizza lunch. There were lots of parting gifts and my contribution was a book by celebrated author Eckhart Tolle.

Danny in our our GDS department gave her a scrap book in Leopard skin print binding (matching her favorite neck scarf) which was professionally printed and included notes from everyone in the office (including a few who are no longer with Coast), some printed up and lots of memorable staff photos, many taken at events out of the office. There was also a matching suitcase/totebag to haul away her gifts.

When Luella left she gave everyone huge hugs and cried copiously. I did everything I could think of to dry the flood, but it was like trying to hold her back the day she went after Danny at GM Place (after he accidentally ? spilled water on her head).

She has been in the office since day 1 when I started 6 years ago and it is the end of an era for CRES for sure. I will surely miss her presence as her gentle spirit and welcome smile was a balm to me, and her willingness to listen to my problems (when I needed to vent) was a huge stress reliever.

During the lunch gathering my friend Danny (the EDS guy) suggested we go for dinner, to talk about the website. He has gifted me with my own domain name which we have called Eagalic Music after my as-yet-unpublished autobiography. It has been too busy at work to find the time but yesterday he asked if I had ever had Hot Pot, and when I said no he suggested a place on Broadway near Burrard. We may go this Tuesday after his work shift.

I was thinking about the content and there is absolutely no reason I have to put up the chapters of my book only and exactly as written. I could put up samples, or new stuff or even music samples…some of the stuff that is home recorded that I put on CD for Chaya and a few others.

There's tons of stuff including photos from over the years.

I am doing a lot of thinking about having my own domain website up and running. It is interesting that I am feeling such hesitancy around getting started. It is almost as though there is so much to accomplish and I feel don’t have the energy and tools. But in Danny, I have a willing friend who is ready to begin the challenge.

These gifts in life can’t be accidental and time is wasting if I sit and shuffle my feet and do nothing about it.

I have a chance to do something beautiful again, and I am going to give it my all. It could very well be that when all is said and done, Eagalic Music will be my future home.

The Flashlight & the Bird

2008-03-06T11:32:00.000-08:00

After a wet and wintry Monday I was blessed with 2 brilliantly sunny days off this week.

On Tuesday most of my walking was doing chores and I didn’t really get a chance to stretch out and enjoy the sun but yesterday I got up, skipped my usual routine and walked along the seawall in the direction of 2nd Beach.

By the time I had reached it, I had made the decision to see if the seawall was opened past Siwash Rock. I had not walked past 3rd Beach since they blocked off the seawall after the huge windstorm that devastated the park two years ago now.

Although it was clear and sunny, it was cold and I wore my wool hat and gloves without generating much body heat despite the energy of the walk.

By the time I got to the water park on the opposite side of the Lion's Gate Bridge near the bronze mermaid I was exhausted and decided that I would hitch a ride on the free shuttle back to Lost Lagoon. I climbed the hill and began walking along the highway searching for a shuttle stop.

I changed my mind once the highway started to climb but when I got back down to the seawall reversed my decision again. I decided to take it one step at a time. I have never taken the walk up the road to Prospect Point and it was interesting to see how the highway passed over the entrance to the bridge.

Up on top you get a clear vista of the bridge and the North Shore through the elegant structure itself and on the roadway there are 4 miniature reclining lions, their manes sculpted into what appear to be stylized art deco Egyptian headgear.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got to Prospect Point but the concession stand was open and there were a contingent of folks in the restaurant lunching on burgers and fish and chips. Since I hadn’t eaten, I browsed the menu but was unwilling to drop $12 on lunch and so settled for a slice of banana bread from the self serve counter.

I walked out into the bright sunshine and sat on a metal stool to rest and enjoy when I heard the familiar clang of the shuttle bell. Good timing I thought as on the half hour walk up to the point it had not passed me once and so I leapt up to board it when it stopped.

The driver greeted me in a friendly way as I climbed up the steps and asked if I had paid for the tour. I thought this was the free shuttle I stated. He informed me that the free shuttle only runs in the summer until September and so I dutifully dismounted and headed into the men’s washroom.

Standing at the urinal I was startled by a quick movement to my right and saw that a beautiful charcoal gray bird with blue, red and white markings was trapped and trying to escape through the clear skylight. I tried to coax him down and while doing so was joined by another elderly man who took the further step of climbing up onto the sinks counter and trying to scare the bird out.

The bird however flew to the opposite side of the washroom and hid itself in some of the roof beams, peeking out at us periodically.

The other man said “It is making the mistake of following its own instinct” and gave up and left but I spent a few more minutes whistling to the bird and trying to talk it down, even extending my arm towards it as I know some of the park birds are comfortable feeding out of the hands of humans. This one responded to my whistling in a remarkable way, coming out to listen to my words and cocking his head as though in agreement.

I was sure the bird would flutter down any minute but it soon disappeared back into a crevice and continued to peek out at me. After 10 minutes, I gave up and left. It was a beautiful sunny day and the sun was visible through the doorway. In the silence of an empty room the bird would surely puzzle out its escape without my help.

And so I began the long trek back to English Bay along the highway and expected to walk that route back all the way until I came to a newly graveled trail leading down to my right parallel but lower than the highway, heading into the trees. It was sign posted Merilees Trail and though I was skeptical of following a path I didn’t know when I was already over-tired there was a smaller sign attached that read 3rd Beach 1.3 km.

In a few minutes I found myself in a solitary landscape surrounded by enormous fallen trunks and broken trees, in the heart of the path of devastation that the windstorm had taken two years ago. There were signs that read Newly Planted, Stay on Trail…and small fluttering ribbons that indicated where many volunteers had replaced the old with the new.

I could no longer hear any sounds from the main road and could very well have been on a solitary logging road somewhere in the wilds of Vancouver Island. The road dipped and climbed and I was offered the most amazing views of the ocean below which now appeared in emerald and aqua hues and almost tropical from this height.

As I was now quite tired I picked my way slowly over the large and uneven hunks of broken stone that were the equivalent of gravel and helped preserve the trail under the weight of parks board vehicles that would have to negotiate it. It was indeed slow going and I prayed that the trail would not come to a dead stop somewhere and that I would not have to retrace my steps up to the main road.

I arrived home utterly exhausted around 4:30 but it seemed like hours more had passed since I left.

Last night I dreamed that I was talking to my mother, and the trapped bird appeared on the wall of the house we were in. Alongside it was a flashlight and they both appeared to be inanimate mounted objects until the bird fluttered away from the wall. It began to talk to me in a human voice and landed on my outstretched hand, the tiny talons gripping almost too tightly until I relaxed.

It communicated to me quite clearly as if to let me know that all was well, but reminding me to pay attention to apparently insignificant everyday happenings whose messages are sometimes all too easy to miss.

An American in Pyongyang

2008-02-26T13:05:00.000-08:00

Tonight (early this morning after my work shift) I am watching Lorin Maazel conduct the New York Philharmonic Orchestra performing in Pyongyang, North Korea (at the East Pyongyang Grand Theater) in a CNN Live historic live broadcast concert.

It is already 1:50 a.m. here in Vancouver and so the early entry.

This is the largest U.S. Cultural group ever to perform in North Korea. They are playing Wagner, Dvorak, and Gershwin.

CNN reports that for this concert North Korea opened the door to over 400 Americans. The national anthems for both countries were played.

Maazel introduced the Gershwin piece “An American in Paris” with the comment, “Sometime someone might introduce An American in Pyongyang” and his comment was greeted with huge applause.

As I listened to the familiar strains of the Gershwin opus I could not help wonder how the Koreans would react to these ultra North American classical folk melodies but the faces of the listeners betrayed only joyous admiration.

And then maestro Maazel went on to conduct music by American icon Leonard Bernstein.

I was almost in tears as I watched the rapt expressions in the faces of many of the Korean audience. This beats CNN covering the bombing of Baghdad by a trillion country miles.

Then the orchestra launched into a Korean folk song Arirang. The entire audience respectfully rose to their feet.

The conductor was then presented with many floral bouquets. They said it was the first ever presentation by an American orchestra in this country.

A local commentator then stated that the Pyongyang Symphony Orchestra would be going to the UK in the New Year and Eric Clapton would be visiting to perform in North Korea.

I pray that this is the harbinger of a new era of peaceful relations between the two countries.

Let’s dismantle the bombs and pick up the fiddles!

This Place and Time

2008-02-19T15:39:00.000-08:00

First thing this morning I woke and cut to the chase, heading over to Great Clips for a trim and then home to shower and do laundry. It is Tuesday and the first of my two day weekend.

The weather channel forecast a window of sunlight today and I was determined to take advantage of it for a seawall walk, something that the rainy cold weather has stopped me doing recently.

The laundry took a while to complete as the machines were in use but once it was done I headed down Harwood to English Bay and then out along the seawall.

It was a spectacular day with a choppy sea and the freighters at anchor on the Bay beginning to fade into a mist that had just begun to roll in.

As I walked I was thinking of my sister Marilyn and how she would enjoy this day if she were here with me.

Many of the people passing me had contented smiles on their faces as they walked into the bright sunlight, their eyes half closed as if in meditation.

A young mom was sitting on a park bench hungrily devouring a hot dog purchased from the street vendor up the hill. Her baby was watching her from the stroller and as I passed I received her message to her babe as clear as a radio signal. She said, "You're gonna love hot dogs!"

Even as I walked I could see the mist gathering and deepening and before long the tops of buildings were disappearing into the clouds and the horizon had all but disappeared.

The sun became a brilliant circle of contained light diffusing through the mist and the reflection of its light on the choppy surf transformed the surface of the water into a silvery gold expressionist abstract.

Earlier the noon news reported rain arriving again around midnight and I felt blessed to receive this gift of winter sunlight and fresh sea breeze.

As I rounded to corner onto 2nd Beach once again the sound of the surf captured my attention. It was crisp and musical and had eluded me until just now.

There were so many feelings and emotions percolating through my consciousness as I walked. I seemed to be reminded of my childhood, my youth, my early adult years and my years with my young children all at once.

I took a deep breath and drew this heady mix of memory/feeling into my lungs.

What a life it has been and it all comes down to this present!

How can I help but be ever thankful, ever grateful for everything that has brought me to this place and this time?

A Good and Profound Education

2008-02-18T11:16:00.000-08:00

It is Monday morning and after a late spate of confusing dreams I am feeling quite lethargic again today. I feel groggy, as though I didn’t get a proper rest.

I kind of sleep-walked through my ablutions, exercises and prayers. I have just checked email and there is nothing personal in there.

Jean emailed me yesterday again from Oregon to tell me she and her husband are involved with a Gurdjieff study group. They are reading a 6 volume commentary by Maurice Nicoll, the same man Roger the Apes told me about during our talks on the cliffs at Santa Cruz when I visited in the mid-70s.

Roger spoke in an English/Australian hybrid accent as a Briton who had emigrated to the antipodes as a teen and found work there and much adventure.

You think your arguments are something, man? Observe a most ancient argument! And Roger then pointing to the huge surf crashing over the cliff-side rocks.

I was truly fortunate though as a young 20 something to earn the friendship of Roger Apperley, Ken Worley and John Mise who although 10 to 20 years senior to my age, welcomed me into their circle. It was a good and profound education.

I was singing at The Cats restaurant in Los Gatos at the time when Ken the bartender (a heavy set and well educated Texan who sometimes doubled as bouncer) introduced me to a bronzed, blond and very fit Roger (think young Michael Caine) who was just back from ship board duties in the South Seas and was hired on to help Ken behind the bar.

The three of us didn’t become close friends until I left the restaurant to move to Santa Cruz where I found a small cabin near the beach and began performing locally. Roger in the meantime had met beautiful black haired Cleo a co-worker at the Catalyst in Santa Cruz and the two of them moved into the ground floor of an old house in town. She called him her Tudor man...and the locals sooned began calling Roger Tooter.

John, Ken (who had also taken new work as a barman in Santa Cruz) and I became frequent visitors to their home. John was a retired (didn’t like the gig) professor of Literature at San Jose State, and amidst many tokes of Acapulco Gold, cups of Lapsang Souchong tea and jugs of California red we carried on discussions on life, love and art into the wee hours and sometimes over several days.

Vern Bennett a gifted pianist who played locally and Norman Thomas a gruff and white tousle-haired painter were also important friends much older than myself but who adopted me as a younger brother providing both fraternal friendship and nourishment to the young troubadour who had stumbled into their company.

Norman, then in his late 60's used to drag me around to the local bars where he introduced me as his son and then began chatting up the young ladies who served us. I still remember that he told Ken and Roger that he liked me because of my tough little Irish mug!

This morning as I putter through my routine these memories drift through my consciousness and evaporate like smoke as quickly as they appear. I can't dwell on them in greater detail as I must leave for work in the next few minutes.

How I survived and flourished in those days of the late 60’s is still a mystery to me! But what a rich and colorful slideshow of memories those days still provide!

The Art of Waiting?

2008-02-06T15:43:00.000-08:00

It is a cloudy Wednesday but the heavy rains of yesterday morning have been replaced by a light drizzle. It is much balmier than it has been this past week although still on the cool side.

It’s a day off work and I was up early again waiting for the elusive courier. But it was clear after yesterday’s communication with the company that they have lost track of my friend’s envelope. She has called them from Boston too, and perhaps together we can find a solution.

They delivered it once on Friday but I missed the delivery and the sticker on my front door noted they would return Monday. They did not and repeated follow up calls underlined the need for more professional customer service as no one seemed to know what was happening with the package.

There were repeated calls to the DHL 1-800 number and I had to keep holding, keep waiting. First it was call back after 10, then it was call back after 2, then it was…wait until tomorrow. Finally tomorrow came and after the same series of calls it was…how bizarre, we’ll have to put a trace on it.

I am sure my friend is upset as these are passport documents that I was going to verify for her.

Once again, it also underlined for me the need to develop more discipline in the art of waiting, something I have never enjoyed doing. It is the second of my days off and I can’t put my chores on hold any longer as my son Ky is coming for dinner tonight and so I slipped off on several quick forays leaving notes for the courier in case someone showed.

I walked up to Safeway to do my grocery shopping but didn’t have to take an umbrella and my glasses are only spritzed with rain, my wool watch cap mostly dry. The walk was refreshing in the cool damp air, and I was momentarily freed from the waiting game.

When I returned home with groceries I was almost afraid to look at my front door in case there was another yellow tried to deliver sticker. There was not.

So I placed a call to DHL to see if there was any news on the package. I spoke to a young woman named Irena who after I explained the details said she had just been speaking to Mary, the sender.

How many agents are answering phones, I asked.

About a hundred, she replied.

It’s a very strange co-incidence I should get you, I said.

Not so strange, she responded as though such synchronicity was an everyday occurrence for her.

At any rate, she told me there was still no news on the package and so I gave up and left to do the rest of my shopping. This time I forgot to leave my sticky note for the courier and almost went back but decided that there was little hope of hearing anything as if the package had been scanned today and loaded into a truck they would know and would have told me so.

I walked up to Capers to get some whole grain oats, flax seeds and other dietary supplements I am using these days. The rain was still spritzing but by the time I came out of the store, it had turned into free fall snow and rain. This time I had to put up my hood, and by the time I got home my glasses were running with water and I could barely see.

I took off my coat, hung it and was preparing to put away my groceries when my door buzzer sounded.

DHL Courier, came the voice. I buzzed him in. He was pleasant looking, heavy-set man in his early 60’s I estimated.

Your timing could not have been better, I quipped. I just got in the door.

Looks like you just managed to beat the heavy snow, he joked.

Did they manage to track the package? I asked. He had no idea what I was talking about and said that it was just a usual delivery. When I told him that the package had not been scanned for two days he was stymied.

That’s impossible, he replied. Packages are scanned every day whether they get delivered or not.

Well, maybe an angel was looking after the package for 2 days?

Or perhaps it is all about timing, and not bothering to wait.

Maybe that’s the art of waiting?

Snapshot of a 14 year old dreaming...

2008-01-26T11:00:00.000-08:00

After a couple of weeks of trying I finally got through to Kadir yesterday morning just before I left for work. He told me he was at his mom’s place with his pal Chris studying for his mid-terms.

I asked if he had a few minutes to talk and he replied “Not really”, and not wanting to push him I told him I loved him and was thinking about him and let him go. But before I did he asked me the question I knew was coming sooner or later.

“Can I borrow your bass?”

I bought the electric bass from my friend John Gogo (a gifted Vancouver Island musician) in the early 90’s (about the time Kadir was born) when he visited us in Kits, along with a couple of drum machines, and I used all of them in quite a few home recordings over the next couple of years. The bass is a Fender clone and has seen better years but it sounds good and is quite functional.

After the visit with Chris a couple of weeks back when they jammed using the bass I figured that they sounded pretty good as Chris is a junior whiz on guitar and Kadir seems to be a one-note-at-a-time man. He is definitely interested in rock and roll and pop melody and when he played along with Chris on bass I could see the makings of a teen group in embryo.

After initial hesitation and my comment that he tends not to take good care of things he is given (the little acoustic I bought him lies ruptured and dormant at his brother Ky’s, the electronic tuner disappeared into the bowels of the Co-op, and his electric mini-Stratocaster style guitar gathers dust on it's stand in his room out of tune while he fiddles on his computer games) I relented.

“I’ll do it!” I gave back. End of conversation. The next move is his. He says he is going to carry it in a gig bag but I don’t think he’ll have one big enough.

My plan is to present it to him as a gift and ask him to promise that in return he will not neglect his studies or home duties. He is 14 and just about the age where I sat down behind my first snare drum. The black and white Kodak snapshot is on my fridge. I am certainly not a whole lot older, maybe a year at most. But I had practiced with table knives on kitchen chairs for a couple of years beforehand.

I can’t help but remember how I craved a real set of drums and almost talked my dad into signing a contract at Winnipeg Music for a snazzy set of cherry red Sonar drums. Almost!

My dad had another idea and that was to altogether avoid the pain of monthly payments. He brought home a drinking buddy from the Brooklands Hotel one night who told me that he had a set of Ludwig drums (Ringo’s brand) stored at his brother’s place in New York and that he was going to get them for me.

I waited for months and he kept stalling but still promising and eventually the sad realization dawned that I would never see these drums.

Kadir was depressed this Christmas because he didn’t get the game he asked for. If Kadir wants to be a guitar hero, better a taste of the real thing than the computer game version!

Flashing Phones and Flying Debris

2008-01-15T11:37:00.000-08:00

It is Tuesday morning and I am hearing the sound of some heavy machinery this morning and can’t help but wonder if construction is starting across the street as advertised by the city. I looked out the window and the sound is coming from the opposite direction, the lane behind my building.

It is clear and cold outside.

Yesterday a vicious windstorm blew through the city and they had to block off all traffic around Shangri-La next to my office building as debris from the construction was coming loose and flying into the street, damaging cars and threatening to damage people.

When I left the building for my dinner break at 5 p.m. I had to lean into the wind and opted for a corned beef on rye sandwich at Kaplan’s deli…too high priced for my budget but just around the corner from us. Normally I walk about 10 blocks during my break and go for salad and soup at IGA but it was far too windy to do that…and possibly dangerous given the flying debris.

By the time I left work the wind had died down considerably but the street to the west of us was still taped off and so I had to take a detour around the back of the building and head up Thurlow at Alberni, not my normal route. Given the weather, there was no sign of the panhandler who usually sits posted at that street corner outside the 7-11.

As I approached the corner however along Alberni, a bearded and bedraggled man approached me and I thought here he is after all but instead he said, “The Liquor Store is closed.” After all, why else would I be walking in that general direction at that time of night?

It had been another killer shift with the phones flashing non-stop all evening but it was my Friday and so I could look forward to my 2 days off.

I made my way home along the dark still windy streets. Earlier in the day they had been rain soaked but now were completely dried off by the strong winds.

Thank God for that walk home to ease the tensions of a busy day!

Early January Seawall Awakening

2008-01-09T14:17:00.000-08:00

It is Wednesday and a day off work. I had no plans for the day until I checked voice mail. There were 2 messages, the first from my daughter Chaya who will be visiting me this evening and the second from my son Kadir, asking if he could come over after school today.

I don’t get that many calls from my “too busy” 14 year old son these days and so a visit from both will be welcome.

I went through my usual morning rituals and after coffee I decided to hike up to Safeway to stock up on a few supplies.

It was a cloudy, cold day and when I got out the door I was relieved to see that the rain was holding off and decided to make the best of this situation and take my seawall walk to 2nd Beach. I wear several layers of warm clothing in this kind of weather and as soon as I felt the cold air on my head, I pulled out my navy wool watch cap to help seal in a bit more body heat.

I walked down to Sunset Beach at the foot of the hill and making my way along the winding path by the Aids Memorial I soon found myself heading along the seawall in a westerly direction.
In this kind of weather there were only a few walkers, a few joggers and most of the folks on the walk were exercising Fido. The dog, not the phone.

Pedestrians thinned out even more as I rounded the path by the Parks Board offices. The pavement was puddle strewn with sandy, muddy, mulch piles which I avoided as much as possible and passing a puddle I could see that the rain was starting again, the telltale rippling pockmarks appearing in the water and so I pulled up the hood of my jacket to prevent getting too wet.

Closer to 2nd Beach I became aware of the steady rhythmic unhurried drone of the small surf which had not been evident until now.

It was a cold walk and I picked up the pace as I rounded the pool area by the concession stand. I took the loop with the pool to my left and when I turned back in an easterly direction for my return the cloudy blue green water over the sandy seafloor revealed its beauty to me, and I paused to look into it. I let my energy drift with my gaze into the depth of the water.

Farther to the southeast the sun was trying to break through the clouds, brightening the sky considerably albeit without real success.

A day that only a half hour earlier had seemed drab and dreary was suddenly filled with a real vibration of magical aliveness.

Had I let the cold day keep me in, I would have missed this experience.

Christmas Lights, Seasons Greetings

2007-12-27T10:47:00.000-08:00

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.

Christmas Eve Along the Seawall

2007-12-24T16:22:00.000-08:00

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.

After the Solstice

2007-12-23T11:40:00.000-08:00

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.

The Very Edge of the World

2007-12-05T17:00:00.000-08:00

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.

Sultan of the Heart

2007-12-02T10:47:00.000-08:00

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

New Snow

2007-12-01T11:25:00.000-08:00

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?

A Dream of Breaking into Freedom

2007-11-18T11:32:00.000-08:00

I have just finished my morning shower, and while toweling off I recalled a late morning dream I had just before waking.

I had gone up to Whistler in a snappy silver compact rental car with some family and friends, and we were all visiting my friend Robert who was in hospital.

He was wrapped in an orange blanket, his body and head covered and seemed not to hear us speaking to him. While we continued to talk he suddenly spoke saying, “Do you hear the glacier moving?”

At this cue, I could hear a dull and distant roar and looking out the window saw a nearby mountainside in motion, the white side of it rippling down like melting icing on a cake.

All of us looked in amazement as the rippling became a full-fledged avalanche and turned into an explosion of rocks and boulders which spread to the surrounding peaks. As we watched in growing horror the volley of debris came cascading towards the village and I realized that it was going to reach us and probably destroy the rental car, cutting off our means of escape from the devastation that was about to engulf us.

We all began racing toward the exit and fled from the hospital as we could hear the rocks crashing into the building behind us and destroying it. We seemed to be running through a forested area towards the ocean as my dream Whistler was also a waterfront town.

The harbor looked peaceful and I noticed people walking about their business seemingly oblivious of the disaster we were fleeing from. I turned around and could see everyone emerging safely from the forest at full run and I looked up.

In the sky a flock of white snow geese appeared in V-formation, and I felt the thrill of freedom and knew at that moment we were safe and all would be well.

Installation Blues & Sage Advice

2007-11-16T10:54:00.000-08:00

It is just after 9:30 and I am awake and up slightly early after another night downloading antivirus software file updates.

When I got home from work yesterday I set right to work to try and un-jam my laptop by manually un-installing Trend Micro Pro upgrade which support had linked me to in error and which was now “stuck” in my system. Of course I could not…and so I tried the tack of reinstalling it, got as far as unloading the installation files, found the diagnostic “toolkit” and ran that to un-install the program.

To my great relief it worked. So then I re-installed PC-Cillin 2007 my original version.

And then...I re-installed Trend Micro Security 2008 but it could not remove 2007 for some reason so I tried to re-activate the 2007 version and it worked. It is good to go for another year if I want to leave it that way (knock on wood.) But what a headache!

This is nearly 2 weeks of off-target support from Trend Micro, failed installations and inability to connect to the net.

My friend and coworker Leon laughed at me when I explained that my days off had been screwed up by this. He admonished me, “With all you have to worry about, you are complaining about software problems?”

The Paramount Hotel Seattle reps visited us yesterday and bought huge heaps of pizza so I stayed in for my break avoiding the heavy rain outdoors.

My intuition told me that I should probably go down and look for my friend Trevor in case he showed as he said he probably would, though with the rain I doubted it. But when I looked out the front doors, there he stood in his hoodie, for all the world looking like my own long lost son.

So I invited him up to the office and offered him pizza. He refused the pizza as he’d already eaten but we went into the Zen room and had a talk for about a half hour. He and his girlfriend of 4 years have broken up and she has left their shared house. He says that they are still talking but that the relationship was not working. He is in search of himself, as so many young men are (and were ).

We didn’t have too much to talk about, and he would not admit to any problems that needed to be addressed. When I addressed the issue one last time before he left he gave me that look of what the hell and said, “Ted, get back to work!”

We had more or less spent the entire time bullshitting (shooting the breeze as we used to call it) and laughing for the most part.

So much for imparting sage advice!

The Rain, The Lark and my father.

2007-11-03T11:56:00.000-07:00

This morning is one of those gray, rain-soaked ones that mark the approach of the winter season in this West Coast Rain Forest climate.

I am taking my time as I prepare for work this morning listening to CBC’s I Hear Music with Robert Harris, a program on the influence of the violin in music.

He is playing that remarkable Hungarian gypsy piece “The Lark” that I have heard once before which after a fireworks display of masterful virtuosity strays off into the stratosphere imitating the sounds of birds towards the end.

The recording I heard before was by Kalman Balough and the Gypsy Cimbalom Band but this one was performed by someone with the name Sandor. Maybe it was the same group, I am not sure.

I just Googled it and the name of the group is Sandor Deki Lakatos and his Gypsy Orchestra. Robert Harris suggested, “Maybe if you to Hungary you can still find his recordings somewhere.”

He followed this with some more modern recordings by Natalie McMaster. And he closed the program with Django and Stephane Grappelli.

I could not help but think of my father as this music was being played, and stopped to say a silent prayer for him. If not for his playing of the violin at home when I was a young boy, I might never have been inspired to become a musician.

I can still remember the fine-tuned vibrato he applied using his left wrist like a dowser might use a wand.

Thanks for those beautiful memories dad!

This Precious Life

2007-10-16T10:44:00.000-07:00

It is just after 10 a.m. of a peaceful Tuesday morning and a day off work for me.

According to the Weather Channel it was supposed to be blasting rain today, but there is a mottled blue sky above framing the golden brown leaves on the nearby trees and taking me back to the fall of 1996 when I sat at my old DOS based computer texting my journal, marveling that the color of the text seemed to mirror the color of the leaves.

In those days though, I would never have known what the word “texting” signified. I was still “typing”.

I was an early member of the Vancouver Community Network then and able to surf the net, but all in text format…there were no graphics of any kind. It was still amazing though that I could search my local library and even reserve books over the computer, or research an item or topic. I can’t recall how I did it exactly though, before the omnipotent “Google”!

Before I owned a computer, I carried a notebook with me everywhere, and I was always “journaling”, scribbling dreams, poems, prayers and memories. I began to write so swiftly in a kind of stream of consciousness that my writing became largely illegible to anyone but me and when I review those journals today, even I have trouble deciphering some of the writing.

My apartment is filled with boxes containing roughly 40 years of notebooks full of these writings, plus one or two book manuscripts that have not reached publication and perhaps never will, now that I have discovered blogging.

A few years back, I couldn’t imagine a time when I was not yearning to see my records on the music charts or a newly published book on the best seller list, but these days, for whatever reasons, time has slowed down and I have no such aspirations.

Time has slowed down and at the same time paradoxically speeded up! I realize that it is swiftly slipping past me and that for the sake of my children and for posterity I would do well to leave some markers of my journey for those who follow. And my journey has been nothing short of extraordinary, a near impossible tracking of space and time from my childhood in Winnipeg to my current one-step-at-a-time daily ritual.

I can do now what I could never have done in my twenties and that is to hold down a steady job. I was too troubled, confused and brimming with desires and emotions I couldn't understand and which I was unable to share with anyone. I had yet to learn to heal and to learn the lessons that healing brings.

In learning these lessons, some of them extremely difficult, I had a chance to try my wings, discovered I could fly and flew managing to live some of the life I dreamed of as a child.

So for now, a steady job and the maintenance of a daily structure is my recipe for wholeness.

But who knows what tomorrow holds in store?

All that I know is that I am thankful for every day and night spent enjoying this precious life.

A Fine Fall Sunday Morning

2007-10-07T10:46:00.000-07:00

It is just coming up to 10 a.m. of a fine fall Sunday morning.

It is cloudy and overcast, but there is no rain pelting down, at least not yet. As usual, I am getting ready for work.

Getting ready for me (in part) means preparing coffee, making my bed, brushing teeth, then doing exercises and finally morning prayers before settling into the ritual of checking emails and doing a daily journal entry.

My daily journal is usually a log of events of the day previous, a recording of the nights dreams if any are memorable and sifting through any thoughts that may be playing on my conscious mind which I feel may need some kind of analysis.

I have often thought and said that this journal keeping is my therapy, and an invaluable tool and way of clearing the field for the coming day’s activities and challenges.

If something is troubling me or if I am concerned about something in my daily life, going over it in journal form often helps me to get to the root of the problem or concern.

This morning I don’t have anything other than the morning silence playing on my mind and so as I write, I also take a break to turn on my little aging Sony short wave radio (a gift from my friend Herb sitting on my kitchen table with its aerial aloft), tune in CBC Radio 2 and listen to a little music while I prepare my cereal.

I look out the window and take back my comment about no rain. It is truly pelting down now. But it is only a 20 minute walk to work and I have my umbrella.

The CBC host (Gregory Charles) makes the comment that he was born in 1968 but from now on is going to lie about his age and pretend he’s 22. 1968! My God, he’s a baby but that classic CBC radio style makes him sound so much older. And he has some fine taste in music! This morning's theme, suited to a Sunday morning , seems to be on the subject of faith and belief.

He tells a story that I find compelling which I have never heard. It is about the I Have A Dream speech by Martin Luther King. He said that while King was talking Mahalia Jackson was standing in the background and kept prompting him, “Tell them about the dream” (the announcer said you can hear her voice in the recording) and she kept repeating this until finally he seemed to hear her and launch into the famous I have a dream part of the speech. Talk about timing and the skills of a musician.

I was hoping that there might be some nice gentle music this morning and I am rewarded as he plays You Must Believe in Spring (and Love) sung by Tony Bennett and accompanied by the great Bill Evans on piano.

Bennett’s soft vocal approach combined with the rich colorful palate of the solo piano combine to create a lovely sense of nostalgia and peace in me, somehow perfectly in tune with the cloudy, rainy morning.

And just as though I had been to church and attended a wonderful service, I am feeling uplifted and ready for the day!

A Simple Act of Healing

2007-10-02T15:31:00.000-07:00

This morning when I looked out my window, I thought I detected a break in the rain.

I got out of bed and went into my morning routine, which on Tuesdays usually includes laundry.

I also prepared a bowl of hot oatmeal with raisins, cinnamon and banana, a habit I recently re-adopted on the advice of my dental hygienist. She asked about my health as she always does and I had mentioned that my cholesterol levels were too high. She suggested oatmeal cereal.

"I don't like cooking in the mornings," I replied.

She admonished me with a gentle smile, and the words "Don't be lazy!"

At this time of the year especially, with the weather turning, it feels good to start off the day with something more substantial than coffee and juice. I use Quaker quick cooking oats and it only takes about 5 minutes to prepare.

With the fruit added, I don't need to add sugar. I just add about 1/3 cup of milk.

This is something I haven't done for years. Having hot cereal in the morning reminds me of my childhood (it was Quaker cereals then too) and preparing for school in the morning. It is a good memory and a good feeling. It is a simple act of healing.

After a shower and a change of laundry loads, I went out into the elements and up to Davie to get groceries. I was wrong about the break in the rain.

But it wasn't a heavy rain, it was one of those comfortable, familiar Vancouver drizzles that get you wet but not soaked and the temperature was also very liveable. I was wearing a t-shirt under a light jacket and a baseball cap and felt quite cozy.

The streets are now strewn with multicolored leaves of many varieties and as I walked up the hill looking at the wet, natural collage under my feet, I felt a lightness of spirit and sure of myself.

Light the Night

2007-09-22T10:21:00.000-07:00

I received a call from my daughter Chaya yesterday asking me to look over her fundraiser letter which she then forwarded by email. I forwarded Chaya’s “Light the Night” fundraiser letter to all on my email list. Here is the text:

Hello,

On October 13th I will be walking 5 k in the Vancouver Light the Night fundraiser. This is a very special event to me as the goal of Light the Night is to raise money for better treatment, support and awareness of people living with blood cancer.

Last year on October 13th I finished my 8 months of treatment for Hodgkin's Lymphoma, a type of blood cancer, and the day after my last treatment I was able to do this same 5 k walk. This year feels very momentous as it signifies the one year mark of my health and new life.

My team's name is Chaya's Angels and our team goal is to raise $5000 for this event.

Please visit the link below to sponsor my team for this worthy cause. Any donation made over $10 will automatically be sent a tax receipt.

Thanks for your support,
Chaya

http://www.active.com/donate/ltnvan/2103_ckatrenskyLTN

Since both of us along with my oldest son have been diagnosed with this type of cancer, it was a no-brainer to do more than check the text. I clicked on the link to make my donation.

To my surprise, everything worked like clockwork. Usually when I try these things there is some sort of hang up or delays in the system and I can’t complete the form or I get an error message.

So that’s a good sign and I am rooting for my daughter’s team to make their quota.

Go Chaya’s Angels!

A Typical Tuesday

2007-09-18T20:11:00.000-07:00

Today was a typical Tuesday...slated for chores.

I woke late and decided that before I started my chores, I would go for a haircut. It seemed to be the perfect morning, rainy and cool. My intuition was right on as I was the only customer in the store and so didn't have to wait.

I was served by a new gal, one who didn't seem to know what to do, even after I explained it to her. So I talked her through it and came away mostly unscathed. She kept running the clippers into my ears, until I quipped, "Are my ears getting in the way?" That seemed to focus her, although the end result left a lot to be desired.

After this I went for a blood pressure test at the drug store and sure enough it was up again...haircut stress-related no doubt.

I went home to finish my chores, make some coffee, do laundry, check email. The usual. I planned a mid-afternoon movie at the Paramount, but by the time I got there I realized that I had better not sit through a thriller, but walk off some of my stress.

My stress is not unrelated to the decision I made last week.

I stopped taking my blood pressure meds, as they don't seem to be agreeing with me. I braced myself for the dizziness, the headache, and the upset stomach I was sure would follow. It did, along with about a 15 point jump in the BP levels but I promised to give myself a week to see what would happen. Astra Zeneca labs haven't kept me alive most of my life, and I didn't expect to keel over once I stopped.

The end result is that my BP is about 12-15 points higher than it was on the meds...but even on meds it never came down to normal.

So I walked over to the food court in the Pacific Mall and ordered a fresh apple/carrot/beet juice zinger with a jolt of ginger. I walked with that through the downtown core to Caper's to restock my walnut supply, which along with banana and orange juice is my usual breakfast menu.

Once home I was quite tired and so lay down for a nap. While I napped the temperature dropped and it poured rain.

I woke about 6 p.m. and decided to go out shopping for a bite to eat. I have been making loud noises at work lately to some of my team mates about craving a hot Montreal-style corned beef on rye sandwich, the kind that I used to be able to get in Winnipeg.

I passed a small European deli and did a u-turn a few paces past it as the words Montreal-Style settled into my conscious mind. There it was...a chance to relive my dream and satisfy my hunger.

I walked in and ordered, but to my dismay they told me there was no rye bread, and asked if I would settle for multigrain. I said no thanks, as this was not my vision of a Montreal style sandwich, but the owner said "No problem," and pointed to a fresh loaf of rye that was marked for sale and they cut that to prepare my sandwich.

I immediately realized this was not going to be a dream realized, as they kept asking me how to prepare it. Did I want lettuce, cucumber, tomato...did I want the meat hot or cold? They didn't even include a pickle.

This was like my haircut revisited, and I had to talk them through it. The end result as with the haircut was far from perfect, but it was a passable sandwich, and because I felt guilty that they had to cut a fresh loaf for me, I bought the rest of the loaf to take home.

It was a worthy purchase, as I found when I passed a young woman standing on Davie with the cardboard sign...no food, no money...no job.

The expression of delight on her face when I handed her the loaf was palpable and made up for any shortfalls in my day.

"Good food", she exclaimed in a tone of voice that said everything that needed to be said.

I then headed down to the rainwashed seawall, to watch the vestiges of golden sunset and misty clouds over the rippling waters of the Bay, breathing in the cool, fresh air.

The Spirit of Peter Pan

2007-09-09T10:45:00.000-07:00

This came to me this morning, when thinking about the James Barrie quote on Nika’s birthday card:

Wishing is like fishing,
you have to be prepared
and go down to where the fish are biting.

A little folksy wisdom which I may or may not inscribe in her card!

I didn’t need any folksy wisdom as a child to fall under the spell of Peter Pan and Tinker Bell. To this day I am still under the spell of the story as it unfolded on the big screen that summer night in Winnipeg before the eyes of an 8 year old boy on the occasion of his birthday.

My mother had roused me shortly after I went to bed to tell me that her friend a few streets away was taking her son Bruce to see the film as a birthday present and that we were going to join them. I don’t remember the journey downtown, but we would have had to take the streetcar, as that was the route along the Henderson Highway from East Kildonan in the early 50’s. If I have my facts right, it would have been the summer of 1954.

I can’t remember any other occasion where I was taken by either parent to a movie, although mom took me one summer to see a gala outdoor production of The King and I at Rainbow Stage.

We didn’t have television in those days, and I don’t remember ever having seen a movie before. If I did, the impact was nothing compared to the impact this had on me. The whole experience was like waking up in a Technicolor dream and staying awake afterwards.

The impish spirit of Peter entered into my child’s body and I became him. In the days to follow I mimicked his sword play with Hook using a wooden stick, leapt from the bed and from the garden fence rail intent on levitating and flying around.

I had fallen in love with Tinker Bell and I was determined never to grow up and grow old.

The spirit of Peter still lives strong in me and as I look back over my life, I see now he did succeed in teaching me how to fly.

I could never have imagined such an adventure!

Alice Meets Wile E. Coyote

2007-08-24T10:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, as pre-arranged I headed off to Zefferellis on Robson for a birthday lunch with our CEO and the other August B-Day buddies I work with.

I was supposed to meet the group at 12:30 at the restaurant but arrived about 10 minutes early.

I climbed the steep flight of stairs leading to the second story and walked into the restaurant for the first time, quickly scanning the tables for my co-workers. They had not arrived yet and so I took a quick trip down the corridor behind the bar to the men’s washroom.

When I came out, I had made up my mind that if they weren't there yet I would go downstairs and meet everyone in the bright sunshine on the street and that we would all walk up together.

The Exit sign glowed above the doorway on my left and while fixing that in mind and turning towards it I scanned the restaurant tables once more. Unfortunately, I took the wrong turn.

I thought I was taking a shortcut behind a counter and I found myself stepping into empty space and hurtling Alice in Wonderland style down a rabbit hole. It was a stairwell leading down to the Cactus Club restaurant below, but it was unlit and because I was not paying close attention there was no way to see there was not a floor behind the counter.

I picture myself in freefall and a lot of things occurred simultaneously.

One was panic and a kind of horror that I had not seen this coming. The other was the sudden realization that I was falling into a stairwell as my vision adjusted to the shadows. There was also a distinct sensation that time had slowed down or stopped all together. Another was that there was a banister rail within my grasp but my body was quickly turning backwards and upside down and so I grabbed for it wildly, certain that I would miss.

I did not miss. Although I was suddenly head first into the stairwell, my feet pointing toward the light, my grip on the banister broke the momentum of my freefall.

Up at the top of the stairs I could hear the waiters’ gasps of “Oh no,” and “Oh my God”.

By the time their faces appeared, I was pulling myself out of the darkness and surfacing. I was feeling a mixed burn of embarrassment and foolishness as I came up, and immediately thought of that unfortunate cartoon coyote, Wile E. I must have had a similar look on my face.

Outside of a few bruises and scrapes I was fine and told them so. I was still intending to go downstairs but they quickly ushered me to my table and sat me down. I could almost hear them thinking "Sit him down before something else happens." It was not until I was sitting that I realized how badly my body was shaking.

When my co-workers arrived I was at no loss for words. Everyone expressed immediate concern and sympathy, even shock as a man my age falling down stairs could easily be a disaster.

I am grateful that I have kept up my morning routine of exercise as I am no worse for it this morning, other than a bit of stiffness in my right arm, the one that grabbed for safety.

Once again this appears to be another mysterious case of Angels to the rescue!

A Child's Prayer

2007-08-21T10:51:00.000-07:00

The other day a dear friend of mine forwarded me an email with the subject line: International Angel Day. In it was a picture of an angel and a quote from Leonard Cohen:

If we forget to pray for the angels, the angels forget to pray for us.

This morning as I said my prayers, I pictured myself as that young school boy in church or kneeling by my bedside, saying my prayers, my heart full of expectancy and hope.

As a boy I put my heart and soul into prayers and it is no wonder that prayer has such a healing influence on me these days, as it brings back some of the strength and passion of my youth.

I remember when we were living on MacDonald Street (about 14 years ago now) in the house where Kadir was born, I ran into a stranger at Kits Neighborhood House one day. He was a middle aged man with a French Canadian accent, searching for a place to live and scouring the notice boards there. He asked if I knew of any places for rent.

“Not off the top of my head”, I replied.

“Well what about around the sides of your head, or at the back here?” He demonstrated by touching his scalp at the spots he described.

I was not sure what to make of the person or of this challenge, but we got into a conversation and soon he became an infrequent visitor to the family home. Eventually we found him temporary accommodation at the home of a friend nearby.

To thank us, he appeared at the house one day and summoned me outside.

“I have something I would like to give to your children, but I wanted to ask your permission first”, he said. He opened the trunk of his car and inside were two boxes containing new roller blades.

As we were unloading them, he reminded me of something I knew as a child. He asked if I had ever heard of the “Angel of God” prayer.

I had not thought about this prayer for a long time, but my mother taught it to me and as a child I always said it.

Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God’s love entrusts me here, ever this day/night be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide, Amen.

He told me that he always said this prayer and that he felt it had tremendous power and suggested I teach it to my children.

I had taught my children this prayer when they were small, but had forgotten about it over the past few years and never really recited it myself as an adult.

He also gave me a book on the subject of spirituality although I can’t recall the name and title of it but I do remember that I started saying this prayer again as we had to move and could not find a place to live that we could afford.

The angels must have listened!

To this day I still say the Guardian Angel prayer every morning and at the end of it, add the names of family, friends and anyone that I think is in need of healing or divine protection.

Positive Changes

2007-08-16T11:26:00.000-07:00

Thursday morning and the sun is wrestling with the clouds for its place in the blue sky!

I am preparing for my workweek and since rain is forecast for this afternoon, my umbrella is hanging on the door handle. But I have been lucky with days off and the last two were no exception. Both of them brilliantly sunny and hot!

Tuesday I had my scheduled appointment with my doc to check blood pressure and to my dismay he suggested another med called Zocor to work on the cholesterol levels.

How long do I have to take it for? I asked. I should have known better. His stock answer, "Forever" popped up like the No Sale sign in an old fashioned cash register.

I asked him to write out the prescription so I could find out how much the meds are going to cost and also to research it. Once again the price was not a problem as long as I am working and receiving medical benefits but what about after?

After researching it on the internet I made my decision. Why would I want to take another medication that breastfeeding mothers should stay away from and with the added possible side effects cautionary: known to increase the risk of cancerous tumors in mice and could cause muscular breakdown?

So I am going to live with my normal/high BP diagnosis for another month and see if the Plendil brings it down a bit more. Taking this one medication is enough of a bullet for me to bite right now.

Wednesday morning I felt much better having taken this stand and so was up for lunch with youngest son Kadir and his mom. We walked down to English Bay for a bite and to toss around recent happenings.

Kadir is now a couple of inches taller than his mom and going strong to compete with his big brother and oldest sister for height. It is hard to process just how quickly he is changing. He will be going into grade 9 this year!

But like all things in life we are wading through the stream of changes as they go rushing past us, and we try to determine our place in them, find our balance.

I am praying for lots of positive changes for us all in the coming year!

How long do you want to keep your computer?

2007-08-08T11:13:00.000-07:00

How long do you want to keep your computer?

This was the question asked by the young sales rep at Future Shop when I traded in my recent birthday present for an upgrade. He was trying to sell me a 2-year warranty which would ensure repairs if something went wrong.

But the question threw me.

Forever, I answered, which drew a huge grin from the young man.

This was my first ever laptop, a recent birthday present that made me feel like a 16 year old again, but when I had tried to burn a backup disc following the instructions, the Acer Inspire write-failed. With this model, you only got one shot. I took it into the shop and they explained that this happens sometimes and asked if I would like a replacement model.

I immediately decided not to replace a model that malfunctioned before I had even had a chance to use it, and so I upgraded to a Toshiba Satellite, a more powerful computer at a higher price. They also threw in Microsoft Office 2007, a non-commercial version at a greatly reduced price.

The young man looked at me with some sympathy and told me that in a couple of years or more this computer could already be obsolete. I preferred to look at it as a fine violin, one that would age gracefully and be even more functional, though I kept this thought to myself.

The original present had come with a 2-year warranty and so we agreed on that. I also agreed to let the experts at the shop set it up for me and burn the backup discs so I would not have to return.

They told me it would be ready in about 5 hours. So I wandered leisurely over to Canada Place and strolled along the promenade with the tourists, looking at the plaques that describe the early beginnings of the BC travel and communications industry.

The hours flowed like molasses and it seemed that the appointed time would never arrive, so I returned to Future Shop an hour early, hoping that my machine would be ready. Nope! I had to return in another hour and so more window shopping followed.

By the time my computer was ready, I was exhausted but I relished the thought that my troubles were now over, and I could go home and get started with learning how to use it.

At home, I eagerly unpacked my computer and plugged it in. I was surprised that when I tried to open the Office Suite, it asked for my Product Key, a long series of numbers and letters that is included on sticker in the box. I thought the setup people at the shop had already done this.

So I entered it in carefully, but received the error message that it was incorrect. I tried this several times, with the same result. Then I thought eureka, I will try using the product ID, a different series of numbers which were also incorrect. Finally, after about an hour I realized that whatever I tried was not going to work. I assumed they had returned my disc in the wrong box.

Not only was I exhausted by now, but totally stressed out by the futile efforts and the long wait of the earlier day.

I was out of bed at 8:30 the next morning and at Future Shop by 9 with my product boxed and bagged, only to see that they didn’t open until 10. I waited in front of the immense industry style unrolling metal gate that closes after hours like a medieval drawbridge until finally, a man with a key appeared and unlocked and raised it.

I was the first customer to get to the repair desk and the technician listened to my problem, tried to enter the key, and then discerned that they hadn’t done they job right in the first place. The computer came bundled with a trial version of Office Professional and they had neglected to uninstall that. So while I waited the sales rep who had originally sold me the package and his department manager came over to apologize and they threw in a nice laptop case for my trouble.

This was a fair settlement as far as I am concerned, as after my two trips to the store with my computer in a box, I knew that I would have to find a more convenient way of transporting it. (The briefcase I originally thought I could use was too small.)

There was yet a 3rd trip to the repair shop, as I was convinced the keyboard was malfunctioning, but the young techie who assisted me pointed out very politely that using the keyboard was a learning curve. As I demonstrated my problem he saw that my thumb was dropping on the mouse pad sending conflicting signals. It seems I have to teach myself to type in a whole new way.

So how long am I going to keep my computer? As long as it takes!

And I still prefer the fine violin scenario!

...but you can't go back.

2007-07-23T11:32:00.000-07:00

The morning I was leaving the Zendo at Haiku in 1978, a senior student advised me to say goodbye to our roshi.

I surprised him in his quarters, while he was putting on his robes and he did a magnificent kind of bullfighter’s twist to swirl the robe around him and tie the sash, dismissing my embarrassment at catching him in his underwear.

“I hear you are leaving today,” he said, “what are your plans?”

I was completely broke and had nothing other than my backpack, my guitar and a return ticket to Honolulu but I didn’t reveal my predicament.

“I guess I am going to continue playing my guitar,” I replied. I had been in this kind of a position more than a few times; I was young and full of energy and avoided my uncertain future by not trying to look into it.

His parting words to me were: “Remember…you can surf to the left, and you can surf to the right…180 degrees…but you can’t go back.”

Dream Dancing & Healing

2007-07-21T11:57:00.000-07:00

I had another beautiful healing dream in the wee hours.

Karen and I were living in a big, old wood frame house and Paul Reps had come to visit us. For some reason, I didn’t come to meet him right away, as I was dressed in a business suit and at the same time still in bed in another room. I hoped he would not be offended when I finally appeared, but when I did, I saw that he too had been sleeping.

He came out of the room where he had been resting into a spacious living room where about a dozen people had already gathered to meet him. I didn’t recognize any of them, and in the next few minutes, the waiting group grew in size to a small crowd. Reps commented that these were his brothers and sisters of the various faiths and religions, but it seemed that the greater majority were of the Jewish faith as I could tell by the turn of the clothing they wore.

Many were dressed in the garb of religious students, like in the Barbara Streisand movie "Yentl".

No sooner had Reps started speaking than a great swell of emotion rose in the group and they began to move into a circle to begin singing and dancing. It happened so suddenly that at first it seemed awkward or out place but as the group formed into two concentric circles, dancing in opposite directions and I was swept into the movement it seemed the most natural and beautiful thing. Then all the dancing gradually stopped and the crowd went silent.

It became apparent that another type of dancing was now taking place, an erotic one, danced by rotund, nearly nude pink cartoon women. There were some cries of outrage and many in the group seemed offended. Others countered with “No, this is not pornography, it is art.” But the women in the group were not buying it.

Then a young woman, very plain and proper looking dressed in almost Amish garb, came over to me and took my hand, asking me to dance. I was confused but accepted and we were the only two dancing in the now deserted circle that had been filled moments before. And what a dancer she was!

She let me lead but spun and twirled and made me look as though I knew what I was doing. I began to lose my self-consciousness and started to experience a kind of euphoria to be in the presence of this way of praising and celebrating life.

I woke feeling relaxed, healed, joyful and completely at peace.

Thanks to the Angels

2007-07-09T10:21:00.000-07:00

The angels continue to watch over me.

Yesterday on my usual visit to IGA for lunch, I was waiting to cross the street at Burrard and Robson. The folks in the curbside crowd were chatting and not paying attention so when I saw the walk sign and nobody moved, I stepped out into the street.

There was an enormous, deafening screech of brakes to my left, and a collective “oooohhh” from the crowd behind me. The car had stopped a couple of inches from me, and a harried and very nervous looking woman sat behind the wheel, her hand to her head, avoiding my eyes.

I felt a strange instant mixture of indignation and anger, and I could feel the heat of the crowd focused on her as well. She had run a red light in her rush to get across before the crowd. But instead of giving her the finger or swearing, (and I was surely feeling the urge to react in some way), I gave her a thumbs up and proceeded.

As I walked away still shaken, I was not sure what confused mix of emotions prompted me to do that.

In retrospect, I guess her hitting the brakes in an exquisitely timely fashion deserved that. I don’t think she was looking though.

I could have been a dead man in seconds. I immediately thanked my angels, and said a short prayer as I walked on.

This kind of close call has happened to me far too many times to count. It was another wake up call for me to be more mindful and alert, and not to take anything for granted.

One never knows what's waiting just around the corner.

Thanks yet again, angels!

A Peaceful Sunday Morning

2007-07-08T11:40:00.000-07:00

It is a peaceful Sunday morning, and I am almost ready to leave for work.

I have been getting up about an hour earlier in the mornings, so that I have more time to do my own thing before heading off to my day job.

I began this morning with a prayer of thanks for the quiet silence that surrounds me today, after a hectic two or three weeks of domestic roller coaster riding.

Family problems . . . they sometimes seem never ending!

But a couple of days ago the penny dropped (as it has on other occasions and at other times) and I asked myself, "What about you? What is your relationship with yourself these days? Never mind everybody else's problems. Are you happy?"

The answer at that moment was "No, I am not happy. I am stressed."

"Well then, get happy", I told myself! (Somewhere in the far distance, Stevie Wonder's singing "Have a little talk with God...")

I guess I must have listened.

My thoughts are clear this morning.

I can hear my computer breathing, the click of the keyboard as I key in these words, and there is no peripheral background noise distracting me physically or mentally.

I love days like this!

Here's to many more!

Just Call Me Ulysses...

2007-07-05T10:27:00.000-07:00

The July long weekend is over, the sun has found its way through the rainforest cloud cover and we seem to be getting our first real taste of summer.

My two days off were fairly relaxing. I visited a family member who is recuperating in St. Paul’s Hospital and who seems to be doing nicely.

I tried to visit my own doctor too, but wound up waiting nearly an hour in front of a locked office door, along with a horde of other confused patients.

As pre-arranged, my son Ky showed up there to meet me and through the technical wizardry of a cell phone solved the problem for us all. There had been some scheduling mess up, and now we all knew that the doctor would not be in that day.

On my 2nd day off, I was luckier. My doctor was there and after checking blood pressure advised, “It’s almost normal, I can live with it for now.” And he wrote out another mysterious pink Sanskrit message to the Pharmacist, re-ordering 50 more 10mg Plendil tablets for me and telling me that I could wait a month this time until my next visit.

He also removed a huge blockage from my right ear using what appeared to be miniature inquisition torture instruments, which had me squirming in pain for a few moments until he extracted the wax logjam. Then out came the familiar metal syringe filled with tepid water and he flushed out even more stuff from both ears.

I have had to have this done once every couple of years for quite a few now…but until now, never the tongs!

My hearing now restored to pristine levels of clarity, I made my way down to the seawall to enjoy the blistering sun and the play of diamond light over the water. I wasn't wearing sunscreen though, and the unfiltered rays on my skin at the back of my neck soon cut my walk short.

Afterwards I wandered into the computer shop at London Drugs and imagined myself purchasing a new DVD burner, a 19” flat screen monitor, a new suite of MS Office, a new keyboard, and a 7 mega pixel digital camera.

Then I shuffled back out into the street, empty handed but very satisfied with my imaginary purchases.

Now . . . what's next?

Just call me Ulysses . . . (a nod to James Joyce)!

for Nika

2007-06-27T13:05:00.000-07:00

I love you
for who you are
not for this, that
or the other thing.

You are my 2nd born
daughter, the one
with the rebel yell.

You never liked
to be scared, not like
your sister who screamed
with delight, when daddy
turned into a cartoon ogre.

You kept seeing ghosts
in the hallway of our house
on Allenby Road
so we placed garlic
behind the pictures there.

You pushed fear away
from you, sometimes
violently . . . threatening
the clear and gentle
blossoming of your aura.

Now it's your turn
to learn . . .
to let down your guard,
to breathe in the Sun

to let that radiant light
nurture and and protect

you, my darling
Lotus blossom.