Morning Prayer

[image from google]

A light rain

is misting
 the morning

fields,

irises

standing tall,

drinking deeply.

Songbirds

are trilling

across the meadow.

I send this

peaceful energy

to every corner

of Planet Earth:

May all beings

be peaceful.

May all beings

have

what they need.

Fire and Moon

[image from google]

Wild Woman

wants to

sit by the fire pit

under the stars

and

gaze at the moon,

but she can't

stay awake

long enough

for it to

get dark.

[image from google]

Riot In Vancouver

[image from globeandmail.com]

The brainless wonders who took part in last night's riot in Vancouver after the Canucks lost the hockey game show a scary lack of consciousness. I know the majority of the crowd were caught in the crossfire, all jammed in together, those trying to do the right thing and just get away from there, the others on the fringes deciding this was a wonderful opportunity to smash windows and loot.  Even those who wanted to were unable to get out of the city core.

Transit busses could not enter the area, because it was too dangerous, and two bridges were closed to try to contain the problem. Skytrain was running, but the sheer numbers of those leaving downtown could not be handled by Skytrain alone.

Bad place to be, in the middle of a crowd turning ugly. Reporters out in the thick of it were also at risk. Not to mention the police, and firemen, who were trying to do their jobs in a chaotic and dangerous situation.

Police cars and other vehicles were turned upside down and gasoline thrown in to set them ablaze. I watched the gorilla-like behavior (with apologies to gorillas) of guys beating their chests and taunting the police. The police behaved with restraint, and I applaud them. They were hemmed in by the hugeness of the crowd and fully out numbered, yet they did not panic. They stayed in control of themselves, however out of control the looters and rampagers were.

On tonight's news, the police chief  said that the element creating the problem went downtown armed with gasoline, masks, and equipment, with the full intent to run wild and do damage. This riot was not caused by disappointed hockey fans. It was not even about hockey. When Boston won, apparently, the crowd inside the arena gave them a standing ovation, to acknowledge the great game they had played. THAT is the Vancouver I know.

Outside, it was a certain element who decided to get liquored up and run amok. Some innocent people, trapped in the wrong place at the wrong time, likely were among those hurt in the melee.

I find it all utterly disgusting. Store owners now have a horrible mess to clean up and pay for. City workers are sweeping up debris and shattered glass. We handled the Olympics with such jubilation and good feelings all around. What  happened last night?

On The View, the women were agog, saying "They have free health care. What  are they acting like that for?" Why indeed?

I am a mom. What moms do in this situation is say : "No more large-crowd events, till you kids learn how to behave appropriately."

My God.

Life is a Beach

[photo by Stephanie Merk]

In 1989,

I made a great leap.

It took

listening to

my inner voice,

trusting the Universe,

overcoming my fear

and some courage.

But when

I drove

the Budget rental truck

around the bend

and saw

a big red fiery sun

going down

over Long Beach,

I knew that

I was

Home.

I pulled into

my driveway.

A wooden cabin,

surrounded by

tall cedars:

my home

for the winter.

A whale

was swimming

out front

in the bay-

a whale

in my front yard!

By now,

I figured

the Universe

was on

Overdrive:

ONE dream

COME true!!!

Let

the Adventure

begin!

The line between

the life I had lived

before,

marking time,

and the Life

I dove into now,

was defined

by that great leap.

For ten years,

I lived

with ecstasy

on a daily basis.

Everywhere my eyes lit:

Beauty:

eagles and herons,

and Grandfather Cedar

poking his snout

through morning mist

on Lone Cone Mountain;

ever-changing Sky,

horizons

leading to

Forever;

long miles

of sandy beaches,

not a human in sight.

And the sounds:

rain and wind

lashing the cabin walls

in winter,

me snug in bed

and listening;

the endless

sussuration

of the waves,

topped with white froth

like ponies

galloping in to shore:

a banquet

for my eyes

every morning

when I put the

kettle on

for tea,

Mozart

on the stereo

and blue jays

on the deck,

waiting for

morning seed.

The wild storms

matched

the wildness

of joy

and wonder

in my heart,

which was

filled

to the brim

and running over;

the alternative folk,

who were my kin,

were all around me:

my tribe;

at the Peace Camp,

and blockading

for the Trees;

the night we closed

the Peace Camp down,

Dana Lyons

singing Magic,

as hippies danced

in a clearcut

under

a full, round,

smiling

Grandmother Moon.

My heart

could not

hold

more happiness

than this:

to live

where my spirit belonged,

with my kin,

in the midst of

the most beauteous offerings

that

Mother Nature

has

to give.

The times when the sky

would clear,

Perfection

was even more

beautiful.

I was Alive

every moment

I lived there.

I mourned

every day, after,

when I was not.

But just to have known

that Glory

for a decade,

was a gift

beyond  telling,

a gift to my life

and my spirit,

a bequest

given freely

and unstintingly -

a gift

beyond price.

Written for the Poets United Thursday Think Tank prompt: the beach.
My favorite place, and subject :)

A Good Morning

[Image from google]

I am in the thick of it: packing,

preparing to move, sorting,

divesting myself of Extra Stuff.

Am exhausted.

As Warren would say:

Welcome to another day

of Doing, Doing, Doing!

But, today,

all I have to do is this one day.

I need to remember that.

And to take time to look up at the sky,

and around me, at the beauty everywhere.

And know that, somehow,

it will all Get Done.

Sorry I am not making it around

to many blogs right now.

Sooooooo tiiiiiiiired!

But in two weeks, life will Ease

(We live in hope!)

and I will soon catch up.

Hope everyone is enjoying Summer!

On Sewing, and the Art of Waiting

In 1922,

she sewed

three little dresses,

with pinafores

and hand-stitched

underslips,

to dress her

three little daughters

in layers of

fluffy white.

In those days,

she washed clothes

and linens

for the family

by hand,

at night

in the bathtub.

Her husband

helped her

to wring out

the heavy sheets.

They'd freeze solid

on the clothesline

through the Prairie winter,

and then would

stand about

indoors

in corners

until they thawed out.

In those days,

money was

scarce as hen's teeth,

and her husband

traded accounting work

for bags of coal,

or anything

that he could use

to provide for his family.

Grandma Julie

sewed too,

mending tears

and darning socks:

always a lot of socks

with four,

and soon five,

 active children.

The house on Lorne Avenue

was a beehive

of

noise and

activity.

"Can you curl my hair?"

Grandma Julie

would call

from upstairs.

And then,

"Oh, I know:

no time, no time, no time!"

My Grandma,

when she was old

and sitting in her red chair

in the "Home"

that was never her home,

felt sad remembering that.

Now it was her turn

to wait for family

to have time,

and everyone was

always

so busy.

When she was invited

to their homes

for dinner,

the Waiting

would begin

right after breakfast,

her cane ready

on the bed,

hat on her head,

eyes trained

on the doorway,

such a long wait

till four o'clock,

to be with

family

again.

I remember

when she'd walk down

Ethel Street

to visit,

sitting under

the grape arbor

watching me

weed the garden,

and how,

when I walked her

slowly back,

to the tap tap tapping

of her cane,

I'd see a tear

roll down her cheek,

grief

for all she had lost,

and this life

she no longer wanted,

which was

only, now,

all about

Waiting.

Sewing

was never

 my forte.

The sewing machine and I

had one encounter

from which it never

recovered.

I had no clue,

and never cared to learn

its intricacies.

So when I think of sewing,

I remember my Grandma

and my mother's Grandma,

lovingly

hand-stitching

all those layers

of petticoats and lace,

far into the night

so they'd be ready

for Church

next morning.

Miracles Abound!

"A miracle is just

a shift

in perception."

-Marianne Williamson

Tall cedars

dark against the sky,

outside

in the hours

just before

morning -

hope,

new beginnings

and miracles,

everywhere;

beauty,

not just in

what has been

and gone,

but beauty

all around,

beauty

right here

in front of us,

shining.