The Normally Bizarre

This small pot of flowers, pansies, petunias and red ones satisfy my gardening pleasure.

FYI bloodhounds take pleasure in flowers too, they like to eat them! We had one in the community in the 1990's. When he arrived as a really young puppy his first act, as his paws reached the ground, was to eat a petunia from the flower bed beside him. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world but it wasn't, for a dog.

An unexpected out-of-town visitor attending the Sunday session brought his mountain bike unicycle indoors. All I could say at the time was, "you are rather late, please come in"! Always one needs to be ready to embrace the unexpected, if not bizarre.

So when a regular member, who usually comes on his mountain bike, trundled out his colourful going-grocery-shopping rig from beside the priory, I was practiced and ready to embrace it, nearly!

Our visiting friend with one wheel, (he said it helped him with staying focused and present), rode off with net curtains twitching probably. And the colourful four-wheeled wagon went shopping.

Gardening

Wild flowers in the paving

Gardening in pots in Yorkshire

This garden is a tribute to a long time friend and fellow trainee who sends me photos from time to time. And it's about time I published a few of them. Thanks, and I will have to take a picture of my golden pansies and other brightly coloured individuals I have in a solitary pot on the front step.

Along with the primal qualities of walking across the land comes the walking across the land pushing a lawn mower. Rarely do I have the opportunity to do this however to-day I mowed the front lawns, ours and the neighbour's as well. It's been a happy arrangement. Once I came back thirsty from a walk intent on cutting the grass only to find the neighbour had done it already. In the winter I'd shovel snow off our sidewalk as a matter of routine. We have an easy give and give arrangement.

The primal part of mowing goes so deep it's hard to capture. The smell of cut grass, the sound of the mower, the all's-well-with-the-world feel of a summer afternoon out-doors in the garden. Yes, there was something deeply fulfilling about to-days mow. Flashes of my bare chested father zipping up and down the garden with his old faithful machine. He took silent pride in the condition of the lawns, not obsessive just a natural pride. Now I am following in his footsteps.

Remembering Moments

Over in Japan Iain in a posting titled Foot prints in the Snow, remembers an event in early childhood. He says, an intuitive sense of 'the transient' really touched me.

There is just something about foot prints isn't there.

I must have been, Oh about 16, out walking high on the South Downs in Sussex. Photography was just starting to be a hobby, black and white film in those days. On the chalky white path I came upon a pair of discarded cheap black patent leather women's shoes. They so struck me that I took a number of pictures, one with the shoes arranged as if 'walking' up the path. This was one of the first times I attempted to capture something I felt on film, and never felt satisfied I'd caught it. I still can't say what it was however I'll always remember coming upon those shoes. Perhaps that too was about transience, after all 'Where was the person'?

House Keeping Note: You may notice a change in the way I am linking to other blogs and web sites. This comes through reading about the original 'weblogs' which were link rich. Their aim being to encourage people to follow links through the means of informative 'link text', that's the underlined and highlighted text. Early web sites worked hard to keep people on their site, weblogs worked hard to get people to leave!

It is great that people, on average about 50 a day, visit here and I hope you will leave your mark through the comments and then leave again, and again and again.

Senescence and Solitude

Senescence
"The organic process of growing older
and showing the effects of increasing age".

And I'd been drawn into believing that decay was un-natural and should be avoided at all costs, or at the very least, 'fixed'! Take heart oh silver haired readers.

Maybe because I will be on my way to a week-end retreat in BC in three weeks, or maybe because I'm just ready to spend some down time, what ever the reason this site devoted to Hermitary struck a cord this evening. And while there, following a link I found an article, Wabi and Sabi: The Aesthetics of Solitude that took me right back to memories of my original spiritual longings, which drew me towards the contemplative life.

Back then I had a romantic notion of what ‘the contemplative life’ would be like. Yes, perhaps living alone in an isolated place away from hustle and bustle. However, in our tradition at least, we are encouraged to be content to sit in our ‘cave’ whereever we are, alone or in a crowd. And sometimes we do retreat to a remote hermitage.

Wetaskiwin, a Giant Magnet

One of my recurring dreams is returning to where I parked my car only to find it gone, stolen. And that's just what happened in real life this morning. The car I borrow for a couple of days a week got stolen during the night.

The day has been intense. First waiting several hours to hear back from the owner with the license plate number. Then, in between phone calls and a visitor, registering the theft with the police. Eventually I connected with the dispatcher. She was so kind, "We nearly always get them back", she said. "Yes, I'm sure you've had a hard day...". Wonderful, a police woman ready to offer sympathy and understanding. I was ready to be receptive.

On a similarly intense day, although for very different reasons, I taught myself to juggle. I remember that day as being fun in the midst of all that was happening that was not fun at all. To-day I packed the Sacristy into boxes ready for the move. It was a rare pleasure to take time and care packing the items as when arranging them on an altar. I hope we can take as much care with packing the toilet brush, the kitchen utensils and the paper clips.

And when cars get old, lost or stolen chances are they will end up in Wetaskiwin, about an hours drive south of Edmonton. I was there on Sunday and spent an enjoyable few hours with a congregation member and his young family.

These cars, along with row upon row of rusting combine harvesters, tractors, plows and a couple of 'planes are part of the overflow from the Reynolds-Alberta Museum in Wetaskiwin. We were too late to go into the museum proper however the field of venerable rusting monsters was a visual treat in itself. Here's more:

As we snapped away I pondered aloud on dignity and decrepitude and wondering if there was a word between the two. And now it's obvious; not a word in-between just join 'em together to make, dignified decrepitude. That's what I see in these machines. And that's what I observed while sitting on the priory step on Sunday. The elderly woman across the road inched her way hand-over-hand on the rail, ever-sooo-sloooowly, down the steps to water a bush. Being in a state of deterioration due to old age, or long use, can be dignified. She is.

The '92 Dodge Spirit that got stolen hasn't quite achieved decrepitude, however given the chance it may live long enough to find a resting place in Wetaskiwin. "Come back! I'm calling to you sweetie".

Airport Training

Walter of Evolving Space is in the air to Singapore, he is re-locating there to work.

Here's part of a comment I left on his last posting before leaving England: "It does seem to be a time when the mountains are moving, yet remaining rooted at the same time. I don't think one has to appear calm or peaceful to be rooted. Roots go deep. Trust the roots will hold you to the Eternal heart! That could be a poem couldn't it!"

Please write lots about Singapore, and post lots of your fantastic photos too.

***

I watched Brokeback Mountain this evening; joy and happiness, unspeakable grief. A tragic and moving story. Let's spare a thought for the suffering that this movie points to.

Small Burial

We honour animals when they die, just like we do humans, by laying them to rest with love and attention. Here's a blog posting from Iain in Japan talking about a well loved family dog, Kuu, and his final resting place.

Last April I was being pulled around the neighbourhood by Kuu, and waking early to his cries. For food? For a walk? I remember him as an uplifting kind of a critter, because that's how I felt walking out with him beside the greening rice paddies. It was spring time.

The forty-nine days mentioned in Iain's post relates to the bardo, translated as "in-between state". In our tradition we have a series of exhortations which are read to the terminally ill and newly dead. Relatives or friends may also choose to do a forty-nine day retreat following a death.

The Resolving Thought

Just another twenty days and it will be mid summer's day. Isn't it amazing how days remain light so late and get light again so early? In Edmonton, as in Northumberland, it hardly gets dark at all around mid June. It's just after 10.00 pm now and the sky is turning orange, stunning colours. This time of year with the extra light I can live with less sleep, which is handy as there is a lot to do before the move into a smaller place. And I leave Edmonton.

On July 1st, Canada Day, the Edmonton Priory will re-launch itself as a Meditation Group. In the mean time a three bedroomed, developed basement, house of furniture and belongings will need to be 'resolved'. That's a term my mother used. "These books will need to be resolved sometime dear" she'd say in the general direction of my dad, but with little passion in her voice. With books, there was rarely any resolving. Except ones from the library they came into the house and stayed. So the books mounded up everywhere and building more shelves was the usual solution. That's not going to happen here.

I like that way of thinking about dealing with things. To resolve: 'to find a solution for' rather than get rid of it or the catch-all, recycle it. I'm finding solutions suggest themselves as I go about my day with the resolving thought at the back of my mind. Yes, there is a passion in my mind for getting stuff sorted at the moment.