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!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Dances with Dervishes
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.
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.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
A Healing Gift
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.
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.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The hottest day EVER!
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?
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?
Sunday, July 26, 2009
A fierce display of elemental energy!
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?
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?
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Worry Zone Blues
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!
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!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
A re-surgence of energy
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.
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.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Moving with the Wild Grasses
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Ky Quixote arrives in New Delhi
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!
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!
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Who needs an i-pod?
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.
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.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Counting my Blessings
"When words are both true and kind, they can change our world." ~Buddha-
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!
(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!
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
The 1st of April?
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".
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".
Saturday, March 28, 2009
The Power of Words
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 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
Monday, March 09, 2009
The Lion in Winter
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!
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!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Precious Time with Kadir
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
A New and Brighter Day
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!
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!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A Young Man Arrives in London
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"!
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"!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Breaking Open
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
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
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
A Farewell Dinner
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.
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.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Best of luck in 2009!
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!
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!
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