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).