Everyday Boy

Where We Are

A poem for our friend Merlette who brought us words of hope today... and as I again prepare to leave one home for another:

where we are

(for edward field)

I envy those
who live in two places:
new york, say, and london,
wales and spain,
l.a. and paris,
hawaii and switzerland.

there is always the anticipation
of the change, the chance that what is wrong
is the result of where you are. i have
always loved both the freshness of
arriving and the relief of leaving. with
two homes every move would be a homecoming.
i am not even considering the weather, hot
or cold, dry or wet: i am talking about hope.

Gerald Locklin, from Good Poems, selelcted and introduced by Garrison Keillor.

If I could choose any two places to live, it perhaps would be New York City and Paris, but I think I'm discovering that home is more about family, friends and sense of community, more than a physical space.  So Vancouver and Calgary are the two cities I consider home these days.

Our house in Vancuouver is going to be up for sale in February, and our lease ends end of May, so a lot of us will have to think of finding a new home by the summer.  I am not worried or anxious, but hope things work out for us all.  We have been blessed with such a great space (for me, for the past two years), and it is a house and neighborhood I have grown to know and love, so it will be sad to leave.

Winter Wonderland

I wish for you a deafness
a mute world
a soundless wandering like
dreaming underwater
air the texture of fleece
and glowing like May Sarton's daffodils

It is a winter wonderland here in Vancouver, as one friend up North has aptly put it. Schools have shut down and some folks are even working from home today. I was out shovelling snow and took this picture in our backyard. Now I am enjoying just sitting at our dining room table and watching the snow gently fall outside. The words above are from a poem my friend Heather sent me awhile back, which captures for me the muffled bright silence that snow brings to the world.

The past ten days we have had to deal with torrents of rain, along with a water advisory, and now we have had a thirty centimeter blanket of snow descend on us. Families and their children have been flocking to the nearby hill to toboggan, and impromptu snowball fights have broken out around the neighbourhood, including our small hamlet of a house. I have found the snow to be an enjoyable experience, with winter feeling so tangibly near. The snow is light and fluffy and it is still relatively warm enough outside to enjoy it for brief spells of time.

I've been postponing writing something here for seven months now and was afraid I would never write anything here again. I thought this week would be a good time to start as I was reminded that this week is the end of the calendar church year. It is the end of ordinary time and the beginning of the Advent season; a time of darkness, waiting and hopeful expectation. It is a season coinciding for me with the hour of Vigils; the first hour in The Liturgy of The Hours, and marks the beginning of another year's journey with Christ, who in another mystery of mysteries was also present at the beginning of time.

Much has happened the past seven months. We have had three housemates move away and four new housemates move in. I had the opportunity to travel around Europe for three weeks in August, visiting my sister and her husband in Essex, just outside London, and then venturing off to Paris, Amsterdam, Edinburgh and Northern England. And I have been working as a shift supervisor/team leader at work for the past six months which has had a different set of responsibilities and challenges for me. Those are some of the broad brushstrokes of this past summer and fall. Hopefully, I can write a little bit more of what I have learned, struggled with and celebrated this past little while. There is so much I want to share, but putting it all down here can be difficult at times. As Van Gogh wrote: Poetry surrounds us everywhere, but putting it on paper is, alas, not so easy as looking at it

Another Day In Paradise

Summertime is falling down and winter is closing in

I'll ply the fire with kindling and pull the blankets to my chin
And I'll lock the vagrant winter out and bolt my wandering in
I'd like to call back summertime and have her stay
just another month or so
She's got the urge for going and I guess she'll have to go

And she gets the urge for going
when meadow grass is turning brown
All her empires are falling down
Winter's closing in

Joni Mitchell, Urge For Going
From the album Songs of a Prairie Girl.

All the seasons seem to stretch out longer up here in the Northwest; our rose bush blooming again and again in a seemingly endless Summer, and Autumn only now seeming to lose steam and give way to winter. It's becoming a bit chillier here, but a friend and I enjoyed a walk in the sun today. We're sure all Vancouver residents lie about the amount of rain that actually falls to keep others from moving here, but my she's intent on emphasizing to all the folks back in Calgary how beautiful the weather is still. I also managed to pedal down to the nearby beaches and look out over the water to the North Shore, where Grouse Mountain's trees especially were dusted with a layer of snow like confectioners sugar on a cake. Winter is nearby, and slowly crawling into our bones.

It's been a busy week since my last update. It'll be a week tomorrow that I'll have been in my new home. It was a bit of a frenzy packing up, cleaning the old house, and moving a car and van load of furniture and belongings. I had a long forty-four hour work week as well which also kept me busy. My new housemates have been friendly and helpful, giving me lot's of space to settle in. I've slowly moved into my room in the basement, rearranging furniture a coulple of times to find the best fit. The room is long and rectangular so it's been a bit difficult finding the best arrangement for furniture - kind of like moving around giant puzzle pieces. I think I've managed to create a cozy space both for sleep and for writing. At one end I have my futon bed with books nestled up against low wall ledges, and on the other I have a little nook for my desk. I'll post pictures soon, of the room, house, street and neighborhood - and perhaps even of my new housemates and the house dog, Kramer - a big friendly dark brown Labrador who happily licks off dishes before they go through the dishwasher, and acts as the resident vacuum cleaner.

I've gone out exploring a few times in our neighborhood, both on foot and on the ol' bicycle. There's a street close by full of little shops and restaurants where I've had lunch a few times. The area is much like a little University town in itself, with the campus so close by. Like my sister and her husband in England, I feel like a bit of a poser, as the neighborhood is in a more upscale part of town - but it's a lovely community nonetheless. I've been listening to Van Morrison's song The Street Only Knew Your Name while I drive around, but I keep on coming across street signs of other people's names: Campbell Street, Heather Street and other places: Alberta Street, Toronto Street. All good reminders, with All Saints Day just last week, of how much larger my neighborhood and community really is - beyond place and time.

Your street, rich street or poor
Used to always be sure, on your street
There's a place in your heart you know from the start
Can't be complete outside of the street
Keep moving on through the joy and the pain
Sometimes you got to look back
To the street again

It's also been a week of touching base with some old friends, meeting new ones and finding a few treasures. On a trip out to see my former community's spiritual director, I bought an old blue travel trunk with brass locks and chipped blue paint. I later learned that it belonged to a Ukrainian nun in Saskatchewan, a Sister Joan. I've tried looking up some history about her but could not find anything. My other purchase this past little while has been a 14" Apple iBook which I am happily typing on right now. I've been without a computer and television for a week, and even had some time without a phone, and while I've enjoyed being unplugged in all these different ways - especially from the telelvision, it's good to be back online to blog and e-mail.

And to update the food critics out there, I made it out to a few god restaurants: eating a delicious platter of Ethiopian food with my friend Lisa at Nyala, and going to a Southern soul restaurant called Ouisi Bistro to celebrate a housemates birthday. I had a nice white wine and a great plate of salmon and seared tuna steak. After dinner a few of us went to see The March of the Penguins which I didn't know much about but enjoyed a lot. I'm enjoying the energy and creativity flowing through the house, and in the folks who've popped in. I think it'll help rejuvenate my writing a bit to be around some focused theological and creative thought again.

Time In Between

Well, I am sitting here in our beautiful 5 bedroom community house, almost completely empty now except for some food and dishes, my clothes, bedroom furnishings and some other possessions.  I find myself alone with the spiders now, who have begun to spin their webs in the airy door-frames of the house, rooms now echoing with every sound.  I find myself physically tired.  Between work, packing up and cleaning the house, and looking for a new home, I've been trying to find snippets of sleep in the daytime.  I also find myself both sad and happy.  Sad to be leaving this house and neighborhood which has been my home for the past 11 months, but happy for the memories that linger and the chance now to move on to another community house.

A reader asked me in the comments awhile ago what has come of my searching for an intentional community.  It's been a lot of searching and questioning on my part, wondering if I should look for another community to live with, or look for my own personal space to call my own.  I've had to weigh financial concerns, with my need for solitude, with a sense that living with others is an important aspect of my own spirituality at the moment.  It's been a long and tiring 2 month search where I seem to have come full circle.

I first looked at an intentional community in East Vancouver which has a wonderfully broad scope in it's practice of hospitality - offering affordable housing to a wide spectrum of folks.  A youth from our homeless shelter has even gone on to stay with them for a period of time in the past - which is great, but that unfortunately presented a bit of a conflict of interest for me if we ever referred one of our clients to them again.  Plus, I felt I needed more of a sanctuary away from work-related issues, so this first community raised some questions for me.  I really admire what this community is doing in embracing diversity in their intentional communities, much like the Catholic Worker communities I suppose, however it didn't seem to be the best fit for me.  I also appreciated the way they are working in their immediate community to build up social programs for low-income earners and refugees, while stressing the importance of gathering around the table for community meals.

So at that point I began looking at 1 bedroom and bachelor suites, up around Commercial Drive, Kitsilano, Strathcona (where I am now) and the West End of Vancouver.  One of the more interesting places I saw was a basement suite North of Hastings (NoHa), which is a lower-income part of town known for it's homeless and drug users, but also for it's flourishing arts community.  The house is part of a little neighborhood of music folk, some apparently associated with the New Pornographers.  However, the rent was a bit much, and the place was again a bit too close to work-related issues.

Gratefully, I've ended up serendipitously meeting a group of community-minded graduate students and professionals to move in with at the end of the month, who seem to share a similar attitude towards faith, the arts, and social justice.  There was some anxious waiting, but it ended up to be perfect timing.  The house also makes it a point to have community dinners at least once a week, there's a guest room for folks who may drop by, and it's on a beautiful large-tree-lined street with a bike path of amazing views into the city.  So all in all, I'm quite happy with how events have turned out.

I've definitely been having some second thoughts, wondering if I should be living more directly in solidarity with the poor, but this community seems like the best fit for me at the moment.  There seems to be a growing interest for folks to move to the poorer parts of town, but then you seem to see the poor just being pushed to other margins.  I could be wrong but here in greater Vancouver I see Surrey as the next Downtown East Side, with it's gang violence and crime and the public's apprehension to even set foot there.  But I think I've come to recognize that all neighborhoods, whether rich or poor or anywhere in between, need transforming communities within them.  I just feel lucky to have the luxury to decide where I want to grow up.

Where Does The Time Go?

My bridges all crossed nowhere to go
Now you hear now I know just where I'm going
No more doubt of fear I've found my way
For love came just in time you've found me just in time

Just In Time, Performed by Nina Simone
From the Before Sunset soundtrack

I just finished watching Richard Linklater's movie Before Sunset, and enjoyed it very much. I liked the real time feel of the movie with the characters strolling through Paris.  And although some of the conversation felt forced at certain times I thought both the acting and script were superb... and I was quite impressed at Julie Delpy's singing capabilities too.  Anyway, it left me feeling a bit sentimental about all the folks I've been in touch with the past couple of years and a bit unsettled as the changes that Fall always seems to carry on her coat tails blow through.

It's been another busy month with lots of changes at work and in my community.  Looking back on the past six weeks I have much to be thankful for.  I finished my volunteer commitment with the shelter at the beginning of August, and soon after, happily got full-time work as an overnight youth worker.  I felt fortunate to land a job with the shelter so quickly.  My supervisor and current team leader were very gracious to me throughout the interview process.  I was sad to leave my day team who were very good to me, but was happy to join a fun and experienced overnight team.  I find there's a lot less case work now, but it's given me an opportunity to still connect with youth, and perhaps better my assessment skills, as we often have youth coming by late at night and early in the morning who are drunk or using drugs or just not thinking straight.

It's been more than a month now working overnights and I've adjusted well to being a night owl... or should I say vampire, as some have been so apt to call me.  I've taken to naps during the day, trying to listen to what my body is saying to me with these unnatural work hours.  I have definitely become a creature of the night (case in point - me writing this up at three in the morning).  I think I'm beginning to find a rhythm to my days, but I'm still having difficulty figuring out when to eat.  Supper in the morning?   Breakfast when I wake up from my naps?  Minor detail.  Physically I feel well and rested.  I'm really enjoying my work schedule which consists of three days on, three days off - four days on, four days off.  Even though my shifts are eleven hour long, the extra days off in between are well worth it.  It's like having a long weekend every weekend.  I'm not complaining.

There have been many comings and goings since I wrote here last - much of it seeming to revolve around some sort of Oriental food (mainly sushi of course, which I'm sure will be the end of me out here).  Visitors from Calgary, New York and Toronto dropped by for periods of time.  I said goodbye to a couple of friends who moved out East, while welcoming another moving out West.  I also flew back to Calgary in mid-August to say goodbye to my newlywed sister and her husband as they moved to a small town in the U.K., just outside of London.  It was good to have breakfast with her out on a patio, a barbecue out in a backyard with my parents and my in-law's family, and sushi with my cousins as well.  Good food and good company as summer begins to fade.

I took over payments on my sister's car and drove it back to Vancouver.  It's nice to have the option of a car to do groceries or escape to the North Shore - although I don't plan on using it too much, especially with the price hikes with gas.  My cousin was kind enough to drive back with me to Vancouver.  We split the twelve hours between us, stopping a couple times along the way for breakfast and lunch.  It was good to hang out with him for the week before he flew back.  We kept up our tradition of seeing movies together and also made it out to White Rock - for what else, but some good sushi.

At the beginning of August our community found out that our volunteer program was shutting down, so we're all ready moving extra furniture out as the house closes at the end of October.  I've been debating on whether to continue living in a community setting, or find a place of my own.  I've been trying to weigh my own need for privacy with a need I sense to find another intentional community in which I feel I can better live out my beliefs with Benedictine spirituality.  I recently met with a woman who oversees a nearby intentional community and am waiting to hear if they have an opening for me.

Our community said goodbye to another household member, Leroy - who went back home to Toronto.  We went to one of our favorite all you can sushi places for lunch before he boarded the bus.  We also said goodbye to our friend Josh - a former faith community member who I lived with for a time - as he set out for university in the East to begin his Master's in Social Work.  A few of us were able to meet for some drinks and send him off, and at the beginning of August we went to the colorful Richmond Night Market to hang out a bit more before he left.  They will both be missed.

To offset those goodbyes it was good to welcome some folks to Vancouver.  My friend Candace was in town, on tour with musician Dan Goldman.  We went to his performance at the Butchershop - an intimate, and sparse space just off Main Street.  I was pleasantly surprised to hear another band, Great Aunt Ida - who have a similar sound to The Innocence Mission - playing beautiful mellow, melancholy songs.

I also helped a friend from Calgary unpack at the beginning of this month as she settled into her new place to pursue a Masters degree at Regent, and some folks from New York were in town a couple of weekend ago for a visit.  We scooted around Stanley Park, Kit's Beach and Grouse Mountain.  It was a fun and relaxing time.  They treated me well to all sorts of good food: Chinese at Hons, crepes at The Cafe, and some good surf and turf at The Boathouse with the sun going down over the beach.  And of course we had to go to the local gelato place to taste test as much ice-cream as we could.  We ended up going twice.  Worst flavor of month by far?  Gullab.  An Indian food I guess.  Don't try it home kids.

So it's been good seeing familiar faces in between work, but it is always difficult saying goodbye again.  I sometimes find it difficult having good friends and family so far away, and find myself tired and apprehensive - even after all this time in Vancouver - to forge those types of relationships again.

Go away with a smile
Don't forget about your past.
Don't keep yourself from giving.
I am always watching you
Be yourself and stayin' true
'cause it makes me feel like life's worth living.

The way you feel.

I've never minded where you're going,
I know that change is part of you
I'm not gonna hide anymore, I'm gonna listen to myself
And maybe one day I can be real too.

Yeah, you living life.

Yeah you are, you are living life
Don't you know that you are living life.
The way you feel.
And that is real.

Living Life, Ben Kweller. From On My Way (2004)

July Sparklers In Her Hands

This barren July
we both wake up so dry
that no more tears can leave us.
And all we've found
are roads we can't go down,
eyes on a day we can't see.
I hope it comes.
I hope that water comes
and drenches us in our clothes.
The world at night
has seen the greatest light.
Too much light to deny.

July, written by Karen Peris of The Innocence Mission.
From the album Birds Of My Neighborhood.

July was quite the month.  It felt like a lifetime in itself.  So much sorrow, so much joy, so much in between.  Words have seemed inadequate to convey the wonder of it all: the music of Live 8 and the bomb blasts of London; a client contemplating suicide and a friend's son dying of cancer; questions of vocation and strained relations; road trips to mountains and beaches, and the celebration of my sister's wedding with family and friends.  And saying goodbye to it all while the world continues to laugh, hurt, forgive, forget, break apart and mend all over again.

In the face of it all I have felt a necessary silence of sorts.  Not so much a self imposed silence, but a silence that comes with a sense that I have little if anything to say these days.  And so I am left to offer at best - my presence, at worst - only emptiness.  And while I'm content to silently take in the mundane and glory of the day to day, I'm afraid this silence - while helping me shed the grand illusions I have both of myself and the world - is eventually going to cut me off from the rest of humanity.  So I hope to flex my voice again, both here on this blog and out in the big wide world I step into everyday:

You never know
you never really know
And you can't have people figured out.
One friend came in
out of nowhere, with lit
sparklers in her hands for me,
and saved the day
when I had run away
to envy and black feelings.
And the world at night
could see the greatest light
Too much light to deny.

Vocation

Now I become myself
It's taken time, many years and places
I have been dissolved and shaken
Worn other people's faces... - May Sarton

This month has flown by very quickly.  I can't believe that it's officially summer.  It's been a difficult month work-wise - working through demands, expectations and tensions with youth and staff.  We've had a higher than usual number of youth dealing with mental health issues like depression and psychosis - and while the needs feel very high at the shelter, the morale continues to be shaky. I've been working with one youth in particular who has been a high-suicide risk since coming to the shelter, and it's been such a difficult task in simply trying to get the youth a psychiatric assessment.  It's been disappointing with the way many health resources have passed the buck.  It's funny, the longer I work in this field the less I'm sure of my own abilities and our effectiveness.

When Weary & Burdened By Life

O Lord Jesus Christ,
who art as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land,
who behold your weak creatures weary of labor,
weary of pleasure, weary of hope deffered, weary of self;
in your abundant compassion, and fellow feeling with us,
and unutterable tenderness, bring us, we pray,
unto your rest.

- Christina Rossetti (1830-1894), from Prayers From Around The World & Across The Ages

Alongside work, questions of what next? still loom for me.  I'm leaning towards applying for a staff position and remaining in Vancouver - but I'm still uncertain.  One book that a friend has lent me, Let Your Life Speak - a collection of reworked essays by Parker Palmer, has been a great source of wisdom and comfort as I deal with question of vocation.  Everything from the poetry he quotes, to the themes of depression, listening, and way closing behind you - all has resonated with me very deeply.  I hope to read through it again before I return it.

The Beauty Of The Days Gone By

I want to sing this song for you
I want to lift your spirits high
And in my soul I want to feel
The beauty of the days gone by

The beauty of the days gone by
It brings a longing to my soul
To contemplate my own true self
And keep me young as I grow old

The beauty of the days gone by
The music that we used to play
So lift your glass and raise it high
To the beauty of the days gone by

Van Morrison, from Down The Road

It was a fun week... we had a day of renewal at work to rally the troops - a day of food, fun and sitting out in the warmth of the sun.  And the beer seemed to be flowing this week with all sorts of celebrations: my first drink on a patio this year with all the warm weather we've been having, a sushi dinner as we said a final farewell to one of our housemates Josh, and a toast for my champagne birthday on the 28th.  We went over to a bar just up the street from the shelter called The Yale Hotel, where they had a live blues band and a couple of pool tables.  During the day my cousins surprised me by having some cupcakes delivered to me at work, and my housemates and co-workers had chocolate mousse and hazelnut cakes for me as well - so there was no shortage of sweets for me that day.

I feel blessed to have the support of family and friends, to have food on the table, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, my basic physical and mental health, and the wonderful opportunity to question and struggle with my vocation.  If there's one thing I've learned this past year - it's that there are folks in this world struggling with so much more than I could ever imagine... not to belittle my own struggles, but to put things in perspective and recognize the goodness and beauty I've been privileged to be a part of these past twenty-eight years.  Cheers everyone, thanks for being part of my journey this past year!

Out From Under April Showers

I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm going to learn to love without fear

Pour me a glass of wine
Talk deep into the night
Who knows what we'll find...

Put your elbows on the table
I'll listen long as I am able
There's nowhere I'd rather be

Born, from Over The Rhine's album Drunkard's Prayer (2005).

It's been difficult for me to write words this past month, although I've experienced much and have wanted to share much.  The food, drink and laugther that have flowed over tables (for which I am always grateful) have helped ease the sense of emotional tiredness the past three weeks.  My tiredness has mostly to do with what work brings, but also in looking ahead and trying to figure out the direction I want to take in life come Fall.  I still have so many questions, and feel as though there will be difficult answers ahead.  The sun broke out this past week from what has seemed like a long string of cloudy and rainy days - or perhaps it's more my sense of comng up from the bottom of some doubts and sadness the past little while.  I've had to come to terms again with my own limitations - having to let go of having to do so much or invest myself so much in the lives of the youth that I create an unhealthy space for me to live in.  I was reminded of the Zen saying: No seed ever sees the flower, and so I am learning again how to nurture a seed, and not crack it open.

I watched Angels In America which I found sad, bizarre and funny.  it really made me think about how we hold the idea of love up, but fail to live it in the day to day.  So to with Herman Hesse's book Siddhartha, which I just finished reading.  Seeking and working out the ideals of life in the day to day.  Not escaping the ordinary through excercises of asceticism or abandonments into illusions of money or pleasure - but in listening to the world around us: nature, people, the inner voice of love that speaks Om (unity, perfection, love).  Waking up, the commute, work, cooking, cleaning, play.  I've needed to remind myself of the contemplative question: Where is God in this before me?

We bid farewell to our housemates Josh with a party one Friday night and a little ceremony the next morning.  It was also a time to officially welcome our newest housemate Leroy here.  Change.  Comings and goings.  Both have been such a big part of community and work this past year.  Perhaps my low envergy this past month has to do with shedding the winter blahs from my body, and coming to terms with the changes that need to happen both within and without; the groan of seeds within me trying to push through to new life... we're going to need to be a little more mindful of the plants in our house as Josh is usually the one taking care of them.  I think it's a good indication for four bachelors that we have at least a few plants and flowers blooming in our house.

There have been a few trips this past month.  Leroy and I took a youth out to do some dives out near Squamish - as she is hoping to go to school to become a commercial diver.  She was lucky to have found three dive locations over the weekend, the last one we took her to especially unique as she had a chance to explore some shipwrecks.  While she went diving Leroy and I went for brunch at a great little greasy spoon diner just off the highway, and then went bushwacking off a trail sanwhiched between the highway and water.  We decided to leave the well worn path for a little adventure in a tangle of wood.  Here's my best go at some Henry David Thoreau inspired writing:

Swinging around a small pond we came upon the typical rainforest of the west coast, lush green and mossy.  We walked down several openings of forest, down a dirt path overgrown with roots, until we encountered a cliff with a little waterfall trickling down it's shiny sheer face onto a bright green fern flourishing on a ledge.  Further on broken wood stairs dropped down, leading us into a dense valley.  We encounter a large fallen tree trunk blocking our path, making us duck under and examine it's innards on the other side, hollowed out like a pipe with bright green moss puffed up inside.  We continue on into a drier wood encroaching our journey, bare tree limbs clutching at us, twigs snapping beneath each step.  The woods are both alive and dead.  I am always surprised by this beautiful juxtaposition.  We hear a hidden stream gurgling in the silent forest, and follow it until it disappears into the undergrowth, and so we turn up a rock face, over mossy padded stones, and climb up to the tree line to take in a vista view of the mountains and water surrounding us.  We continue on, downwards again, trying to find our way back through branches and brush clawing at our arms and legs.  I slip down a muddy hill backed up with leaves, grabbing for support from a flimsy branch.  We come to another cliff, this time looking down to train tracks below us.  We shimmy our way down along a steep rock incline to the train tracks and follow it down all the way to the highway, trickling waterfalls soaking the cliff face beside us.

It's always good to go back to Nature every now and then.  I finally made it over to Stanely Park - if only for a quick drive through, as well as Queen Eliabeth Park - a bit of a touristy garden centered park, but beautiful nonetheless.  The necessities of Nature still beckon me, so I try to incorporate walking time as prayer time, if only down the city block and in the neighborhood, seemingly sparse of mother Nature but still full of beauty... so slowly but surely I feel like I've begun to turn a corner - with better energy, better awareness, and better rhythms to my days.

Effort is its own reward.

We are here to do,
And through doing to learn;
and through learning to know;
and through knowing to experience wonder;
and through wonder to attain wisdom;
and through wisdom to find simplicity;
and through simplicity to give attention;
and through attention
to see what needs to be done...

Ben Hei Hei in Wisdom of the Jewish Sages by Rabbi Rami M. Shapiro. From Spritual Literacy (353).

Perspective

These words from the movie Cold Mountain, I believe loosely translated from William Bartrum's writings, seemed fitting this week as I recently confirmed I will be moving once again.

To have traveled so far from east to west, a thousand terrible miles. My feet treading all God's surface: his ocean, his swamps, his slopes and ridges. To find myself at last, a mark in the aching snow, from where I beheld through a blue haze, a world of mountains piled upon mountains.

This time I'm traveling to the beautiful city of Vancouver on the West Coast. I will be transfering to the faith community of volunteers there, continuing my work in a crisis shelter environment for young people. Part of the reason is because they will be running low on volunteers in December, so I will hopefully help with numbers. I'm going to miss New York terribly, especially all the folks I've met here, but the move feels like the right thing to do. It's a wonderful opportunity to live and work in another major North American city, see a couple of old friends, and once again sit in the majestic beauty of the Rocky Mountains.

One of the things I missed this past summer was sitting on top of a mountain, and staring out upon a world of mountains piled upon mountains. I have found those times to be valuable moments of perspective, where my own smallness is magnified, and I'm confronted with pure silence and grandiose beauty. It's been difficult fulfilling those necessities of Nature here in New York City in such a grand scale, but you begin to adjust to what your have. You just begin bringing your smallness, your silence, and your awe - to the trees outside the window, the potted plant, and the flower.