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.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Averyville Meditation
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.
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, July 09, 2008
Wednesday, 12:05 p.m.
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!
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!
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Canada Day 2008
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.
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.
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