Saturday, February 18, 2012

Moi on the radio

Hi friends. Sometimes an impulse will bring surprising results. For a while now, I have had the idea off and on of asking my friend Fritz, who has a morning radio show at our local university (and on which show I appeared to talk about my e-book, Heart of the Matter), if I could come on his show, say, once a month and read one of my spirituality columns on air.

Well, today I e-mailed him, expecting to get an "I'll have to think about this" reply.

Wrong. He bit. Last Friday of the month, around 8:15-ish AM, one column. He'll reconfirm next week.

Wow. 

I have ten years worth of columns (@ 10/year, do the math), of which the majority, I feel, are worthy of airing.
And someday, I'll get around to republishing the e-book in a friendlier environment.

Good impulse!

Monday, February 6, 2012

Have snow, will walk (or shoe...)

There is nothing quite like a walk or snowshoe in nature, such as it might be, on a mild sunny day in winter:

It's a chance to explore parts of our own neighbourhood inaccessible in summer, by following a frozen stream bed as far as it will take us.
 Here you can see what the true owners of this land, the wildlife, have been up to. In the picture below, several birds and at least one mouse have been to this now-frozen water-hole to get a drink:
 Other times, just find a cleared path at a local park, and walk to your heart's content:

There is a lot to see:


Not the easiest walking, even with a cleared path, but very enjoyable:

 

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

New Hymn



N.B: I am reading Reynolds Price's book A Whole New Life. What power and acuity he had:

Even our own feeble hands
Ache to seize the crown you wear
And work our private havoc through
The known and unknown lands of space

Absolute in flame beyond us
Seed and source of Dark and Day
Maker whom we beg to be
Our mother father comrade mate .


This is my prayer, too.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Still as beautiful


Today, after church, I went cross-country skiing in a park 5 minutes' drive from our home (eat your hearts out, big-city people!). I had a wonderful time, so much so, that when Joyce was dropped off home after her church council meeting, and after lunch, I suggested that we both go back to the same park and snowshoe--in other words, get physical to take your mind off mental exhaustion.
Having already exercised, I was in a mood for what I call a "stroll"--no stress, no sweat. Just enjoy. Joyce decided to try it, and we loved it.


The forest at the park is full, as woods are in our part of the country, delightful little "secret places" as I call them, places like little tiny clearings hidden under boughs, or bald spots back in off the path, barely visible.  We love peering into them and seeing what we can. With snowshoes, we can travel off the path into one or two of them, and that's what we did.


And always, we were surrounded by landscape out of a dream, snow like spun sugar on the spruce boughs:


This is but one reason why we love where we live.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

A rest

It is time to give rest to the daily Poet-Journal, an activity which I have found life-giving as well as challenging (as in, a poem first thing in the morning without warm-up). I may keep up the Saturday Poem--we'll see.

Life is commanding some new directions, and I do not quite know what they are. In the search, it is time to set down some of my burdens, and view the way before with clear eyes.

To all of you who have read these, my appreciation, and my especial appreciation for those of you who chose to comment. Although I wrote them for me and you, it has at times felt like tossing stones into a moving river, whence they disappear without a trace. Who was touched by them? Who saw them? Anyone?


Thank you all, and God bless.

Friday, January 13, 2012

We're back


Relaxing on a snowshoe trip, Sibley Creek trail.

What we did on our winter vacation...

Monday, January 9, 2012

True Hiatus

On Jeopardy!, there is the phenomenon of the "True Daily Double", an all-or-nothing wager. We are not wagering, but we are going for a break away for 4 days/3 nights, at a cabin in Sleeping Giant Provincial Park.

A True Hiatus, if you will.

No phone, no tv, probably no radio. Yes electricity and running water. And pin-drop quiet. Scrabble and a laptop (for movies only). Snowshoes. White-tail; deer for neighbours. 

Without internet, there will be no published Poet-journal until maybe Friday or Saturday.

Peace, friends. 

Poet-Journal January 9, 2012

The setting
full moon
staring as though
confused
at the world
she lights.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Saturday Poem January 7, 2012

Time spent 
in nickels and dimes
over a puzzle's
myriad pieces,
delighting in
discovered patterns
while your pensive
humming strokes
my heart like a hand
petting a cat's head.

Time shared
in unimaginable
wealth...

Friday, January 6, 2012

Poet-Journal January 6, 2012

I would one day
take a long walk
along the road
near our home
until the road 
becomes 
Odysseus's oar,
only I am the one
asking what it is,
never having
seen this place.

Penelope would 
not weep,  nor 
would suitors
importune,
for somehow
I am always 
wrecked on 
my own doorstep
in good time.

Smiling, she
opens the door
and lets me
back in.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Poet-Journal January 5, 2012

Seize the day
when you've hands
and arms
and will, or failing
all that,
simply being.

All the days
are the best
you'll 
ever find.

(Allan Fergus: 1943-2012)

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Allan

My brother-in-law struggled with schizophrenia for most of his life. Despite that, he graduated as an electrician and worked for International Nickel as a mining electrician before his condition became unmanageable. He enjoyed scuba diving and photography in his younger days. 

But while living alone in his condition, he was assaulted by persons unknown and robbed. He suffered brain damage.

Eventually, he was moved into a care home, where he was well looked after, and where he treasured visits by his family. Although Sault Ste. Marie is a full day's drive from where we have lived for 13 years, we missed only one occasion when passing through, to pay him a visit.


Visiting Allan was an exercise in precision. Allan would name each of us in order, tell what we did for a living plus a bit of family history concerning us, with precision. He would smile, and name the day of our visit as the "happiest day of my life" without fail.

His condition and medication contrived to blot out his short-term memory. He would telephone his nearest relative, my other brother-in-law, up to a dozen times a day, forgetting that he had already called. After a while, my other brother-in-law took to letting the answering machine field the calls. Yet Richard always made a point of visiting him at the home, and frequently had Allan over at his own home, to Allan's inexpressible delight.

Allan was the quintessential vulnerable, damaged man who would never hurt a fly. He was so good-natured and so interested and sociable that even his Member of Parliament knew him.

The last few years hadn't been good to Allan. His health broke down several times, requiring surgery and extended care. In the last few months, dementia set in. This evening, he died peacefully.

As I write this, his sister Joyce is writing his death notice for the newspaper. There have been phone calls. Arrangements. His body will be cremated and a graveside service, with his minister sister Joyce presiding, will take place in late spring. 

We will miss Allan very much. If anyone has the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven, it is Allan. Save a seat for us.  

Voters



Voters, originally uploaded by er1danus.
Being good citizens of Finland, my wife and daughter check out the internet to see the candidates and get a handle on the parties for the Finnish presidential election.

Poet-Journal January 4, 2012

Awakening,
I thrust aside
the blankets,
toppling the peace
of the dawn:
I do not
know my own
strength.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Poet-Journal January 3, 2012

We have been friends
and friends remain,
though sometimes
in a caught moment,
we wonder, how long
could this be?
The years stretch
like a hand
offering blessing.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Poet-Journal January 2, 2012

To my lover

your name
is solace
against
the snow,
welcome
against
the cold--
I open
my arms
to you
to return
the blessing

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Poet-Journal December 31, 2011

How is it
that awakening 
and rising up
this morning
is a miracle?

Friday, December 30, 2011

Poet-Journal December 30, 2011

Each year
a little death
something like 
the one 
after coitus--
but somewhat
grimmer,
as though
for real.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Poet-Journal December 29, 2011

World hugs itself
in snow--we seek
to reassure
with shovels.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Poet-Journal December 28, 2011

Who knows one's own depths?
Not a time for diving boards: 
there must be a 
gentle slope somewhere,
and a hand to hold.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Poet-Journal December 27, 2011

Winter wondered
when the switch
would be thrown:
so did we.

It's time,
said the winds.

It's time, 
said the sun.

Winter yawns
and stretches,
little cat feet
of cold
on our hearts.

Monday, December 26, 2011

Poet-Journal December 26, 2011

Morning anti-climax,
soft rains of sleep,
groggy wonder
at disarray
of our house:
love has come
and stayed,
as we awaken
to each other.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Saturday Poem, December 24, 2011

Cold fingers,
sluggish heart,
winter sleep
is stubborn,
refusing sunlight's
stirring.

Your warm 
breathing nearby
invites longer
repose:
summer can wait.


Friday, December 23, 2011

Poet-Journal December 23, 2011

It's tipped: the sun 
silently frolicking,
wobbling in its movement
like an enormous
obese dancer,
tripped lightly
though ponderously
over the line
that brings the days
longer and longer.

I hear no
clanking of chains,
gears, servomechanisms'
throaty whines,
only a sort of music
available to
the deaf, available
to me.