A test of courage...

There are pivotal moments in history where an individual can truly make a difference. Such a moment has arrived with the assassination of Benazir Bhutto and it is her two main political rivals who can move Pakistan from the brink of anarchy if they have the courage to act and the ability to overcome their own political ambitions.

The current president Musharraf and the sole surviving opposition leader Sharif must act together to save their nation. The President must extend an amnesty that will allow Sharif to run but for now he must first offer to create a coalition government that includes his opponents. The election should be postponed to allow Bhutto's party to recover and to find a suitable leader. Violence cannot resolve this. An armed response to this will only drive the country deeper into the chaos that extremists desire.

Only the political system can save Pakistan now, and the courage of two men.

The view from the west coast...

Most of you have been to Victoria so you appreciate the beauty and the climate that I am enjoying for my holiday here. But in case your memories are vague I will kindly supply a view gentle reminders.














The weather has been perfect - raining when I need to sleep - sunny and cool when I am walking on the beach with my friend Helen.

Critical mass...

Is there a critical mass of Newfoundlander and Labradoreans that has been distributed throughout the world? Anecdotal evidence seems to support this notion. At least it seems I cannot move across this amazing country of Canada without continually encountering my countrywo/men wherever I travel.

Earlier this week I was in the Triple Spiral store in Fan Tan Alley – Victoria, B. C. Just the day before I had bumped into a CBC television crew doing a piece on the Winter Solstice. Apparently I looked like a good interview. SO I ended up expounded about Yule and the Winter Solstice. The next time I am in the store, Phyllis, the proprietor introduces me to Judith, who is from Newfoundland. We chatted for about an hour.

That same evening I attended a Solstice ritual in a yurt where I encountered a woman from Labrador. The today I am waiting for a walk light at the corner of View and Blanshard in Victoria and I end up talking with a woman from Placentia who knows my best friends family from Point Verde.

So this evening I head off the Beagle Pub in Cook Street Village. As the evening wore on I stepped outside for some stale air – which I freely shared with three others who were also outside. Shortly thereafter I end up in a game of cribbage with Heather from Baie Verte, Newfoundland.

It seems then, at least as represented by my current life on this celestial plan that we have at last created a critical mass of Newfoundlanders and Labradoreans.

Celebrating the Winter Solstice...

This is always an interesting time of the year in Victoria. People are running about getting all of their Christmas shopping done. The banking system will crash at least once as we overload the Interac system with our electronic payments, draining our savings and maxing out our credit cards. There are long lineups and lots of grumbling. Yes this is the season of joy.

But then this city also tends to blur the boundaries a little - being the pagan/witch capital of Canada. Last night there was a wonderful gathering at the White Feather community hall with hours of dancing to the beat of multiple drums, the energy of electric guitars, the sensuality of hot brass and the ethereal sounds of a woman's voice singing a mystical air.

There was lots of dancing as people were almost compelled to move to the rhythms and energy that filled the place. And there was incredible dancing with one Tyeah - a belly dancer beyond compare. She began her performance with a scimitar balanced on her head. She was sensual, and tragic, ethereal and firey - literally as she later danced with a brass candelabra holding 9 lit candles on her head. She did not stop there. She had a extensions on each finger with wicks soaked in isopropyl alcohol. She lit each in turn filling the space with the glow that splashed from her gold sequin covered dress.

But it was really the joyful exuberance of the people that made the night so special. They danced with passion and purpose. They danced to chase away the dark and to bring back the light. They danced for the sheer joy of being alive and for living in one of the most beautiful cities in all of Canada.

On the wet coast of Canada...

Being in Victoria right now is wonderful. The city has a calm about it that can be nurturing to the wounded soul. The sight of flowers blooming, and grass that stays defiantly green in December is so refreshing. The smell of the ocean, so much softer than that of the Atlantic reminds me that I am far from one home. But still I am at home here.

I have not telephone and in order to connect to the Internet I have to go to one of the local coffee shops that has a free Wifi hotspot. It feels so liberating to have that much control over my life right now – to be in touch or to remain disconnected.

I came here to relax and to reflect on my life – to contemplate the choices that I have in front of me. The possibilities are not endless – I am too old for that. But they remain tantalizingly rich and varied. As I prepare to travel farther along through this time in my life I can choose where to be and what to do with no need to consult anyone. Each choice I make is for me and me alone. It has been a long time since I was able to even consider that.

I have spent most of my adult life as a shared existence. I do not regret that. I have known love, and passion, pleasure and pain. I have watched in wonder as my three birth children have grown into amazing adults. Now my stepson approaches that magical threshold between adolescence and maturity and I know he will be fine also. And I have twin grandchildren who offer me renewed joy.

I could look for love again; seek yet another mate but there is reluctance in my heart. There are women I could love but I find myself unwilling to. I enjoy their company, the mutual pleasure that passion can bring. My heart has become guarded and wary and unwilling to allow itself to be shared beyond a certain point.

So as I sit here in Victoria I try to imagine myself being alone and rather than feeling sad I feel elated, and free. It is as if the whole world is open to me now.

Dreamscapes...

I was flipping channels when I came across Lady Smith Black Mabazo on Austin City Limits.

I was immediately drawn into the dreamscape of their rich melodic voices. I could feel that hot African sun on my skin and I could smell the pungent tang of its soil in my nostrils.

The experience was amazing on so many levels. I realized in the blink of the eye that I felt this almost unreasoned connection to Africa. I knew in that moment that everyone should feel that way because this is where we all began. It is the cradle of life - or perhaps more correctly the womb.

Is that why we have such a troubling connection, such a terrible history with Africa? Do we only see the darkness and not the light?

Siblings...

Once I had 6 siblings but now I have 5 - five sisters, all older than me. I am that oft dreaded baby of the family. Of course I describe myself as Cinderfella! But the truth is I have 5 amazing sisters. They are all incredibly bright and strong and unique and special.

I am not sure I have ever told each of them how much I admire, respect and of course love them. They are so different and yet I have this special bond with each of them. Sometimes I can feel them inside of me or in my head.

Siblings are special because they do not own you. Parents own you. Spouses own you. But siblings (and children) share you. You have more in common with your siblings than you have with any other person in the world. That is not just those genetically bonded siblings. It is also those children of the heart who share common parents of the heart.

So - if you have a sibling make certain that you let them know.

Life happens...

Sometime life happens in the blink of any eye. I was relaxing in bed, grooving to some tunes when one of those shifts happened. You know what I mean. Those moments that kick in only certain times in your entire life.

When you lose your virginity. When you get married. When you hold your first child in your arms. When you lose a brother or a sister. When you lose your first parent. When you lose your last parent. When you get divorced.

So many first times. We all have them. It is in these times that life really happens. Tonight for the first time in my life I felt the weight of my years. It did not come such much of a burden as a settling in of a load. I have finally found my stride in life. I am setting my own pace. I am my own person - for the very first time in my entire life - I am my own person.

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Now playing: Cybajaz - Cybajaz
via FoxyTunes

The Golden Compass....

I am continually amazed by the amount of moral indignation and panic that can be generated by a book or a movie when it is even faintly regarded as being critical of large institutions like the Roman Catholic Church. The fact that Catholic school boards in Calgary have been ordered by their Bishop to remove The Golden Compass from their bookshelves is but one indicator of efforts to stifle discussion about how religious institutions attempt to control their members.

In the United States a similar kind of religious fear mongering can be witnessed in the battle for the Republican presidential nomination. Mitt Romney, who is a Mormon, was forced to up the religious rhetoric, and declare that God [implying the Christian go] not only had a place but had to have a place in American politics. What next? Will non-Christians be denied voting rights in America?

One of the key issues that led many people to North America was the religious oppression that once dominated Europe. Wars were fought there over religion. It seems like some people are trying to continue that battle here.

Meantime, I visited The Golden Compass website and found out that my daemon or soul creature is a Tiger. What is your?

Just how much do we construct?

Tonight in my Culture Theory class we watched part of a documentary film by a former African-American football hero that tried to make sense of the projection of violence into the male persona of the typical Hip-Hop star. Exemplars included Tupac and Notorious B.I.G. both of whom were publicly shot down. Beyond Beats and Rhymes by Byron Hurt is often a painful experience; one that delves into the construction of a violent masculinity nurtured in the inner city ghettos of the American northeast. What I saw of the film left me burdened with a sense of despair and sadness.

Then I came home and while surfing channels I happened across Drumline and I rediscovered hope. The irony is so rich it threatens to overwhelm me. The story of despair emanates from the North which overthrew slavery while the story filled with hope is situated in Atlanta, Georgia in the heart of the former Confederacy that enslaved Blacks.

We all construct our reality. In the end, which one is closer to perfection?

Is it December yet?

Okay - so this has been a bit of a slog. In this semester I went from spending 4 hours a week in classes to 13 hours a week. Now of the 13 only 9 are my courses. The other 4 are dedicated to the undergrad course that I am T/Aing. Now please do not get me wrong - I love teaching even when my job is to backstop the instructor of record - who just happens to be the Dean of my faculty.

It is a lot of fun to stand in front of a room full of eager faces - well sometimes confused faces - and to help them to sort through the theory to the important insights they need to get through university. In fact I know that I want to teach. It is just that right now I am also loaded down with my own stuff. It is probably a good thing that I am only in the process of working on a new relationship. If I was actually living with someone who I was emotionally involved with I suspect our relationship would soon be in the toilet.

However, I have the incredibly good fortune of living with a dear friend and just yesterday we talked about how much simpler it is to live with someone who is a friend - just a friend. We have all the advantages of stimulating company with no expectations of having to synchronize our lives. I want to head out of town for a weekend - no problem. She won't be around this week - fine.

I have to confess that getting through this semester has in large part been made possible by that special relationship. Margo opened her home to me and and made me feel like I belong - as a friend not a partner. Her generosity has given me space to grow and yes to heal. Coming back to Calgary was a difficult choice for me. Now I know it was the right one.

But now December approaches and and with it the end of the semester. Of course that means holidays and the anniversary of my breakup. Last year I fled eastward. This time I will be heading west to Victoria to kick back and relax and to recover another fragment of my past.

Alexander was wrong...

Legend and history have it that Alexander [maybe the not so great] solved the puzzle of the Gordian knot by severing it with his sword. That act represents some of the worst kind of thinking for humanity and represents the flawed legacy of the Enlightenment and Modernity.
Yet the great epochs of western and northern European civilization are demarcated by the Medieval Period, the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. We began to strip away the body from thought and to seek objective truth to pursue the idea that we must find the 'simple solution".

The insistence on clear and dispassionate logic informing an objective pursuit of truth as triumphant over over messy emotions and the flawed human body that had to be suppressed so as to not distract the positivist search for an objective reality is the bastard child of the Enlightenment delivered through gestation by Modernity.

In the middle to late twentieth century the emergent Post Modernists began to critically examine their illegitimate birth. Derrida led the savage horde of Deconstructionists who destabilized all critical and philosophic thought in the western world. They came to bring disorder by exposing the great fallacies of Modern Thought; they destroyed them by exposing the tissue of lies that fabricated and sustained Modernity. They excised the false consciousness of the recent past and opened a space for complexity.

And now we can open our minds to the beauty of our complex existence and to know that we can only find understanding by seeing the all of existence. That we are not mere individuals trapped within a singular, individual existence. We are part of a social fabric connected in ways we may never comprehend. It becomes possible for the reunion of science and philosophy with the arts. The fractured can be healed and we can move to the next paradigm of human existence.

Encounters of the wonderful kind...

I spent a lovely weekend with my new friend Brenda at her home in Edmonton. We got to know each other so much better and had time to look back at common experience we had in the 1960's and 1970's before we each got married and got busy raising our respective families.

It was really interesting to have time with someone who was "there" - another old hippie who really remembers and remains affected by those times. We had a relaxing weekend of dining and the pleasure of each other's company. Life does not get much better than that.

We also got to hear some amazing music - R and B and Blues played by seasoned musicians who play because they love it more than because they can make a living at it. Most have day jobs but the music is in the fabric of their souls and you hear that when they play.

Blossoms in the wasteland...

Television, particularly American television has been described as the great wasteland - empty of any real value or meaning or truth. Now of course that last item is open to some serious debate - truth. Perhaps the critics are correct and the truth presented by American television is its own representation. It could be that mainstream American television rips back the skin and reveals the shallow heart of American culture.

But life is always so much more complex and thus interesting. As if to confound those noble critics the occasional pearl is cast before the swine that devour the swill. But wait. Just who are these swine and what is this swill. It seems indeed that the remnants of the battle between high culture and low culture endure - preserved for all time in the supercilious gaze of the informed and sophisticated minds of the scions of culture - that is high culture!

Meanwhile your trusty correspondent has placed his cultural purity at risk and exposed himself to American Television Culture by watching an episode of Boston Legal. Of course it does star a Canadian, Bill Shatner so I am somewhat inoculated. But I have digressed long enough. What I really wanted to talk about was the raw nerve that this show continually exposes to the world. The lift away the shroud that obscures how the average American has been allowed to lose sight of their great gift of liberty and freedom to the world.

They have come to distrust their own people so much that today over two million Americans are in prison. In fact the United States of American, once the bastion of freedom to the entire world incarcerates more of its citizens than any other nation in the world. These are the poor - the disadvantaged - the visible minorities - those who failed the test of the American Dream.

But tonight an episode of Boston Legal gave me hope because a mainstream media had uncovered that ugly sore and let in the light that can act to heal it. I saw a display of a human heart in all of its potential compassion and wisdom. Of course this is fiction. But is not all the world a stage and we but actors...

The shady side of 55...

I was chatting online tonight with a new friend. She is a woman of my generation, just one year younger. What is so fascinating about her is that we seem to have had many of the same experiences both when we were young and growing up in the sixties and seventies and in our adult lives.

What is encouraging is that we both seem to have the same outlook on life. Just cause we are getting older doesn't me we need to act like old folks. We are both dismayed at how some people we know who are in their sixties act like they were in their nineties. She was chuckling about how one guy sent her a picture of his home complete with white picket fence, neatly mowed lawn and a wishing well - all his pride and joy. Now there is nothing wrong with a well groomed yard - just don't make it the highlight of your life.

I would prefer to send a picture of me trudging through a jungle or swinging on a rope getting ready to fall into some tropical gorge. I am not ready to get old yet and fortunately neither is she. So next weekend I will be off to visit her in Edmonton to see if the connection we feel online and on the telephone is even better in person.

Never turn you back on the world....

So I learned a valuable lesson tonight. I turned my back on the world for about an hour and damned if it didn't turn white. Now it is not even Halloween yet and already we have snow?

Sigh - I am not much of a winter person. I hate winter in cities. It is ugly and dirty and just plain miserable. Now tucked away in a cozy cabin in the thick stand of forest with good trails for cross-country skiing or snowshoeing and I'm there. Ice fishing? You bet!

But stomping through dirty grey slop and getting sprayed by oblivious drivers is not my idea of winter cheer. Nope - I figure I have to come up with a lifestyle that lets me avoid such misery. Let me see -how about winter in the desert or the Mediterranean or maybe Thailand? Ah - at least I have my dreams to keep me warm.

Looking out - looking in...

I have been given pause over the past several months to reflect on my attitude towards other people. Specifically I have had two members of my family call me on shit they felt was not appropriate.
One used the phrase "drama queen" and the other said "actions speak louder than words". Now I learned a long time ago that I can either be offended or I can stop and reflect on criticism that I get from others. Over time I have found that the latter is always the best choice since I can either reject the criticism or actually gain some insight from it.
So now I am trying to process this and to understand how I got from being a caring and giving individual to one who seems (according to those who love me and care about me) far too self-absorbed. This is not intended as a rationalization of my behaviour but an honest and earnest attempt to look at myself through the experiences of others.
I have spent most of my adult life (over 33 years in relationships that required me to share myself with others and in some measure to sacrifice my own desires and needs to a greater good. When I experienced the traumatic and sudden breakup in my last relationship I became far too focussed on myself. It did not help that I was in graduate school and spending most of my time in my room working on my writing and my personal projects.
I went from a caring and giving person to being self-absorbed largely to the detriment of those around me. But now I am trying to honestly shift my focus and to find my equilibrium. I have been meditating on a book given to me by my friends Paul and Mona - Shambhala: The Way of the Warrior. It will take time but I am determined to reconstruct myself into a more positive person who can look inward and outward.

Finding my way...

I am still settling into the life of the PhD student and what I have discovered is that I have to work hard at keeping a sense of perspective. It is so easy to pile the pressure on - to jam yourself into a corner when you lose sight of why you are pursuing academic studies. Sometimes you allow yourself to get so worried about the short term tasks that you have to deal with that you forget the things that drew you to pursue an issue.

I told a friend recently that I have this itch inside my head - questions that keep me awake at night. I know I may never find all of the answers that I seek but I have to search for them. I have to find some sense of order and purpose in life. I will never know the answer to the really big questions - some require me to die first. But I have learned that if I really focus on a small sliver of some huge issue I can keep my mind occupied. Perhaps I can even provide insights to others.

Finding my way...

Healing takes a long time and sometimes the pain is masked by other things. I am very glad to be back here in Calgary but every now and then I am reminded of what has changed and what has been lost.

My world is a strange one in which I remain in contact with my former partner's husband Randall [They have never actually divorced]. He is house-sitting for Fiona this weekend while she is away attending a conference somewhere. Learning that gave me a twinge as I remembered when I would have been the one going away with Fiona but that is gone for good. Still, I would not change back to what was. When I reflect on our relationship I can see how it had been in decline for a long time. Neither of us could be who the other person wanted or needed. We simply have grown in different directions.

For now I have to focus on myself and my journey. We must live in the present for in the end it is all we really ever have.

Which identity?

One area of being human that has long fascinated me is the obsession with identity - our need to either align or to distance ourselves with or from a group. I grew up in Newfoundland after it became part of Canada. In one sense I am a first generation Canadian and a 7th generation Newfoundlander.

But of course being humans we cannot just stop with group identity we have to try to sort out our individual identity as well. Perhaps this is the price of being self-aware. The thing about identity it is only fixed in the moment and continually being constructed over time. Time changes us all and we never are who we were or who we are going to be.

Whose culture whose reality....

In my Culture Theory class we have been presented with the opportunity to help to define culture for the purposes of helping to direct the focus of a new programme "Culture and Society." Given that I am already enrolled in the doctoral studies in this division I do have a vested interest in this undertaking.

Tonight my brain, which continually exerts its independence from my consciousness a la Gaston Bachelard, offered up this definition:

"Culture is a lived experience in which a specific group of people continually construct a shared reality."

These are the sort of things that have kept me awake at night mot of my life. Now I get to actually make use of my insomnia. Actually, it was very useful when I was writing my journal for my Masters. Perhaps it is the only way that I can break free of the limitations that have been embedded into my being by the early educational system that I encountered, the one that punished originality and alternative interpretations of ideas.

I have been subversive most of my life, always seeking to undermine and destabilize the comfortable, the understood, the accepted truths. I began with religion when I realized that according to the rules, my father was likely going to Hell. I got around that by rejecting the rules in order to save my father. I have not looked back.




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Now playing: Future Sound of London - 010
via FoxyTunes

An Interesting Man...

There is a phrase that I have come to dislike strongly in the past six months. Well actually I have come to hate being told "You're and interesting man -" What I hate is that it is always followed by a "But..."

I have experienced that twice. First it was Heather in St. John's. She constantly called me "An interesting man..." And then she told me "but we just aren't quite right together."

Then I met Lee. We laughed, we necked but then she sent me an email "you're and interesting man..." quickly followed by a "But..." So long Lee.

Perhaps I have reached a time in my life where I have to rethink my priorities. I am engaged in a complex exploration of the nature of identity. At the same time I continue on my path of spiritual exploration. It may be a better choice for me to detach from any desire to have a partner and to focus my attention on greater goals.

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Now playing: Synaesthesia - Subversion
via FoxyTunes

The same but different...

I have been back in Calgary for almost 3 weeks now and I have been reflecting on how much things are the same. I do feel like I have come back to a home - not the home but a home. So much is familiar and provides a sense of belonging. I have so many friends here. I feel entirely at home at the university.

But it is impossible for me to ignore the differences. I am not in my previous relationship. I now live in the SW instead of the NE quadrant of the city. My stepson Dylan is not down the hall from me. I am trying to start new relationships while reconnecting with some old ones. Strangely enough the is also a sense of tension dissipated when I encounter some of the people I previously knew at the university - as if Fiona's absence from my life is making things easier for me.

At the same time I have to acknowledge that I have moved from being an undergraduate to a PhD student and that alone is sufficient to alter the whole dynamic of my life at school. I now hold a position that I must be cognizant of as I negotiate my various relationships in the Academy. It is not one of power or authority but one of privilege. As such I find myself placed at the intersection of student and scholar where enormous change may occur within my live experience. I am on the cusp of a profound change in my identity and I am continually reminded that it will not be an easy task but one that demands an enormous commitment from me.

I cannot help but be both thrilled and somewhat daunted by the expectations I have created for myself.



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Now playing: Future Sound of London - 002
via FoxyTunes

Wisdom and Madness...

Just days before I left St. John's for Calgary my dear friends Paul and Mona threw a party for me. It was a going-away/got your Masters/debut your film party attended by some of the most interesting people I had met during my stay in the city.

As is their wont Paul and Mona presented me with a gift or two gifts actually. The first was in a small bag they described as containing wisdom; the second in a large bag filled with madness. Each bag held a book. Madness came in the form of a beautifully illustrated, massive hardcover copy of Cervantes' Don Quixote while wisdom was proffered through Chogyam Trungpa's Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior, a small paperback that could easily be tucked into a jacket pocket.

I have been reading the latter book over the past two weeks and using it as a meditation tool. It has helped me to regain a sense of calm and to deal with the enormous changes that are happening in my life now. I have learned that I can actually meditate - something that may surprise many of you who know me well. I do not believe I have ever been regarded as one who sit in such repose and to open myself to the experience of letting go.

Yet, that is what I am learning to do. I am struggling to let go of ego and self-image and to see myself not separate from the greater existence that is the universe but as an integral part of it. This does not imply some great significance for my role but an understanding that I do have a place as do we all. It is our responsibility to understand that we each have a place, a purpose and that we will find both wisdom and happiness by trying discover just what that means for us.

Our journey then becomes purposeful in and of itself for through it we gather the threads of our existence into a coherent pattern filled with meaning and offering the possibility of wisdom. Madness comes when we abandon this journey and obsessively focus on some destination that we believe is our true purpose. Fame, money, power all lead to this. They are illusions that distract us from seeking wisdom. There are so many possibilities along this path and each represents a form of madness.

The beat goes on...

I have been in back Calgary for two weeks and I am settling back into the university life here. But at the same time it is an entirely new experience. Having officially become a doctoral student I have the sense that I have walked through a door into a whole new existence. It is impossible to not be aware of a feeling that I have completed an initiation of sorts into the Academy. And it is a feeling of coming home, of finding my place in this world.

Just as importantly I have started dating again. A few months ago I was still struggling with my previous relationship. Now I really have moved into a different place. I am not in a longterm or single relationship - yet. But the possibility is more real than it has been in some time.

What is most wonderful is being with my friend Margo. We share a connection that is rich and wonderful. We have one of those friendships that is special an unique - the kind people write books about or long for. I am blessed in that I have several friends like that but having Margo take me into her home and make me feel so welcome has made my return to Calgary possible. I am not sure I could have come back here without her kindness.

I cannot help but reflect that I had a similar experience with another dear friend Paul when I went to St. John's to do my Masters. As Joseph Campbell wrote, when you are doing what you are meant to do, when you are following your bliss things will fall into place.

Being here...

I have been in Calgary a week and there have been moments that I felt like I had never left. Today was not one of them. Today was filled with the surreal understanding of how my life has changed.

Today I am living with my friend Margo who encouraged me to pursue an academic career. She also help direct my former partner Fiona into her first academic position at the University of Calgary. Now I am there and there is a possibility that I may get to teach a course this semester. Fiona has quit the university, telling a mutual friend that she was too apprehensive about me being there.

Today I went to brunch with Dylan and his father Randall. We dropped Dylan back home - the place I used to live. Fiona has asked me to stay away from there. No problem since Randall and Dylan are moving into a new place next month. Last connection severed.

Today my new life emerged intact from the ashes of the old.

Water Boy in the Foothills of the Rockies...

Well I am back in Calgary and thanks to a suggestion from my friend Beverly I have renamed my blog for my time here. Eden is of course Black Bank but anyone who has been there knew that already.

I arrived here on Sunday past and have spent the week getting organized. I am living with my dear friend and mentor Margo. She graciouslly allowed me to shovel out her spare bedroom and to move in. We have a a relationship that only comes from friends who both love and respect each other and she is truly a blessing in my life.

While I was more than a little nervous about returning here, I know that this is where I should be right now. Everything that I need seems to be appearing on cue and I am very excited about starting on my PhD.

This weekend I will get to reconnect with some of my other friends as well as Dylan. We are going to brunch on Sunday with his dad Randall.

Life is good.

A final post from the Eastern Edge...

I have been posting from the Eastern Edge for almost two years now and this will be the last one for a while. I have completed my Master of Philosophy in Humanities and tomorrow I leave for Calgary to begin my PhD.

There are many people I need to thank, none less than my children who have always been a source of pride and inspiration for me. They continually remind me of the diversity of life, its challenges and its possibilities. That all three of them will be in graduate school this fall is a gift in its own right.

I also want to thank my sisters, cousins,brother-in-law grand-nephew and grand-nieces who threw a surprise party for me to celebrate this moment. It was tolly unexpected and was wonderful time that I will never forget.

The celebrating did not end there as my friends Paul and Mona also organized a party here in St. John's to celebrate my Masters, debut my film and to give me a send off. Thanks to everyone who showed up.

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Now playing: Iron & Wine - Woman King
via FoxyTunes

This is my last night in my home for a while. I really do not know when I will sleep in my own bed again, the one that I shared with my brother - the one that belonged to my grandfather. But I am at peace. I have a home again and it will be here when I return. The next two generations are already connected to this place.

It has become the ancestral hearth - haven to all of our family and to many of our friends. I am so grateful to my sister Gwendolyn - not only because she allowed me to disrupt her solitude this spring. Like me she really needs her solitude but she set that aside for me. I am also grateful that she chose to retire back her and to restore our house to a home; to preserve it for the rest of us. She has our father's passion for gardening and it shows in the flowers and roses that fill our yard with beauty.

I will be back here. It is home.

Water and the West...

I was enjoy the water today like I have not been able to for many years. It is mid-August now and the surf is better on the beach. Nice waves that crash over you and almost knock you off your feet.

Of course there is also the fact that I am heading west soon. In Wicca - Water symbolizes the West and is the element of birth, death and initiation. Water also cleanses and renews. Today as I threw myself into the oncoming waves I embraced the element of Water. I became one with the ocean, letting myself dissolve into its energy and to be reborn from it.

I truly am in the third phase of my life now as I head West to begin my PhD.

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Now playing: 03 - Eight Line Poem
via FoxyTunes

Gifts from the past...

I received some precious gifts from the past today. Muriel Chislett (Hulan) brought up two letters and two Christmas cards. Both letters were written in 1931 to my Aunt Rene who was married to my Uncle Frank. One letter was written by my grandmother Jane Swyer and the other by my Aunt Susan Pennell.

The Christmas cards, also to my Aunt Rene were from my paternal and maternal grandparents. One has a picture of my Uncle John as a small child of about three.

























My grandmother Jane, who we knew as Nana, wrote Aunt Rene to let her know that she an my mother were taking care of Uncle Frank's grave. He had but recently been drowned at sea, along with his brother Herbert. My mother would have been almost 15 at the time the letter was written.

These are the ties that bind people across the generations.

Time to go...

I started sorting through my things today, finding stuff I need to take with me - besides clothes that is.

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Now playing: Iron & Wine - Naked As We Came
via FoxyTunes

I am sitting here listening to some music and thinking about the coming changes. Next week I have my oral defence for my work and then I am done. I do need to get some paperwork off to the University of Calgary.

I have gone through major changes this summer - it was gut wrenching at times and I am certain in my manic days after turning in my work to the Examiners that I drove many people around the bend. This is an apology - not merely an acknowledgement. I am afraid that proximity bears its own risks sometimes.

Winds of change...

The garden is at its peak of bloom today with the air filled with the bouquet of wild roses that grow all around the edges of the lawn. But the wind has changed. The gentle summer breeze is gone and in its place there is the more urgent wind that hints of the changes that are coming. The time of the first harvest, Lammas, approaches and the first fruits of the field will soon be taken in.

This is always a melancholy time for me as I can sense the approaching fall. I grow restless now, needing to pack my bags and to prepare to escape the winter that will wash away the brilliant autumn colours which will soon paint the hills here.

The whole world seems unstable, shifting rapidly through its seasons while I feel like I am being swept of my feet - pushed off centre.

The presence of so much family who are usually scattered all over the continent and the world adds to my sense of unease. Even as they arrive I anticipate the time when we are all far apart, each in our own world. Tonight is a time of feasting and celebration but somehow I feel saddened and already alone. Instead of immersing myself in the festivities I sit in my room, writing this posting in my blog. Perhaps, I feel more at home in my solitude. Here I can focus and be calm; sheltered from the coming winds of change.

Now what...

Okay so I admit it. I am not good at this leisure time thing. I turned in my final work for my Master of Philosophy in Humanities on Wednesday. Yesterday I dropped off a copy of my film to CBC in hopes that they may consider picking it up for broadcast.

Now I am in limbo - some people call it vacation I think - until I have my oral defense and then head off to Calgary to start on my PhD. Of course I do have a family reunion to attend next week and I will get to see some people I have not seen in a lot of years. Perhaps being out there will help me to actually unwind a little.

It's lonely out here....

So a while back, I can't say quite how far, I was initiated into - F A C E C R A C K ! Yes - I confess I have joined that pack of lemmings which is trying to find the edge of the Internet. Now you are expected to supply the name of your employer and your job title for your profile.

They caught me on a whimsical night. I declared the Universe [yes the Universe] to be my employer and assigned myself the job title of - Thinker! This evening while stumbling through FaceCrack Land I happened upon an opportunity to Search for Friends. One option was for co-workers in the Universe. There is no on else! I know - I pressed the Search button. It seems then I am all alone in the Universe. I really hate to think about it.

Rough cuts....

I have had quite a few very late nights combined with early mornings lately. Along with Evan I have been editing my film to produce a rough cut that I can pass in to my examiners along with my journal. Working with Evan is definitely a bonus here. I am learning a lot about the whole creative process as a collaborative effort.

Today my friend Paul came over and we recorded the narrative script I had written for him.

I just finished mixing that into the video footage and now I am waiting for the film to be rendered so that I can burn some DVDs. I have reconnected in some ways to my computer - digital technology is making it possible for me to do creative works I might have only dreamed of in the past.

I also plan to use the rough cut to pitch my film to CBC. If they take it it would be the icing on the cake but either way I am very proud of the film I have produced. I have dedicated both my film and my journal to my parents. They were truly the inspiration for this work and I am so proud to be able to honour them in this way.

Hot off the press... well printer

I have finished writing my journal, completed the last revisions and printed off three copies, one for the director of my program and one each for my examiners. I'm not sure who they will be but it has to be soon because come August 26th - I am outta here!

Tonight we expect to have the rough cut for the film completed. I will be including a DVD with each copy of my journal. It has gone even better than I ever hoped or dreamed. All in all the past two years have been amazing. Even my breakup has been really good for me because I am for the first time in my life experiencing a clear and independent sense of self - unfettered - unburdened by a relationship that really was not healthy.

Heck - I've even become web content!

Soon the east meets the west...

So now I actually have a departure date - August 26th. That means that soon I will no longer be able to post from the East Coast. And that means this blog goes into mothballs for a while.

But do not fear oh loyal readers. I will not go away - I will simply redirect you to my next blog. I do have some ideas for the new title but for now I will keep you in suspense.

This blog has been an interesting experiment. I began it at a the beginning of a critical change in my life and it documents much of my journey over the past seven months. It has been a time of transformation and today I find myself happier than I have ever been in my entire adult life. I have a sense of freedom that is almost intoxicating. I am on the most exciting path of my adult life - other than the years I spent helping to raise my children.

This is my time and while I will share it I will never surrender it to anyone. My life has become like a fine bottle of well aged wine and I intend to savour the very last drops.

Who decides...

I was having an interesting conversation with my friend Tracy last night. We were sharing a few of our favourite beer - Dominion Ale, the Old Hearty with the smooth flavour! We are both in the process of winding up our respective masters and were sharing the experience of having discovered that we feel quite at home both in St. John's and in academia.

Now being at home in St. John's is one thing but academia is an entirely different cantel of fish.* Being at home in academia has implications. For example it assumes that you have some interest in a particular discipline - English, history, sociology or philosophy. More to the point it also assumes that you have something unique to say about some aspect of your chosen discipline. And most important of all, it implies that you can turn a critical eye towards the larger world, viewing it through the lens of your discipline. Of course what is also implied here is that somehow you understand that all of these assumptions are perfectly valid and can withstand any critical examination.

For anyone outside of academia these may seem like pretty sketchy ideas, only intended to allow the academic to avoid getting a real job. And they might be right. Take me for example. I am a graduate student who mainly lives on the proceeds of scholarships and fellowships. I get up at the crack of noon and spend most of my day thinking about things that really matter to me. I even get to make a movie and get funding to pay someone else to edit it for me. And I feel not one iota of discomfit about this. I often jump up, click my heels and let out a little Yippee! I did write to a friend and thank her for working two regular jobs and paying her taxes. It was the least I could do for all those nice folks who keep our economy going at such a nice bustling pace.

So the big question really is who decides whether an individual gets a regular, rat race job or becomes and academic. I'm not sure about this but I bet I can get a grant to study the topic.











*Yes cantel not kettle as so many people say, though the actual word is most likely quintile a measurement.

Move on down, move on down the road...

Well the time has come the walrus said to speak of many things...

Okay so I am mixing my songs and shows here in a rather bizarre way but then my life is again approaching one of those moments of flux where a critical shift is about to happen. In more succinct words I am almost finished my Master of Humanities in Philosophy and today I booked my ticket to fly off to Calgary near the end of August.

There I will begin my PhD [pronounced phud] in Cultural Studies. Yes - I am moving to the adult sandbox! Life is strange when you are stranger [no I did not forget the 'a'] but it is also amazing, thrilling - dare I say it? Life is life.

I will miss St. John's and most of all I will miss my friends and family here. The line between those two is pretty blurred these days. My family are my best friends but my friends are family too. That essentially describes my life here in Newfoundland. I have to return. Not returning is not an option.

And now what do I do?

I always seem to feel a sense of loss when I complete a project that is really important to me. Today I completed the first draft of my journal for my Master of Philosophy in Humanities and tonight I cannot resist a certain sense of melancholy. There will be revisions to make of course but nonetheless work that has been in progress for more than two years [half my life on some level] is nearing an end.

I have also finished shooting all of the rushes for my film and now must begin the task of of constructing a final product from that. Now I must engage other people in the task of editing and narrating and composing music. It will become our project not my project and that too will require some adjustment.

I face a time of change now. I will be returning to Calgary to begin my PhD at the end of August and that fact fill me with a mixture of anticipation and downright fear. But I cannot stand still for I am endless compelled ahead into the future.

Up the creek with a paddle...

I had just completed another rigorous shift of hammock duty, guarding the potato patch so I decided I should give myself a small reward. I went next door and borrowed a canoe from Mark Hobbs.

The off I headed to Little River. After launching the canoe, I spent a leisurely afternoon paddling up the lazy river. Once I got clear of the breezes bursting ashore off the bay the river turned placid even glassy. Little River is a meandering water that winds it way softly through a mixture of bogland and forest. Around every other bend water lilies hold up their golden blossoms for all to admire. Along the banks the iris adds a burst of indigo to the luxuriant green that dominates the edge between water and blue sky. Bank beavers maintain their rustic homes in and out of the river.

Following the lazy soft path of the waterway I float through the afternoon letting time slide away from me. The occasional deadhead keeps me from falling into a stupor. I am at peace.

Jean Thoreau's Island...

Since I was a kid I had heard the name Jountrou's Island. [I am guessing at the spelling here based on how I heard the name pronounced].

It really is not an island anymore as you can see from this photo the gap between it and the mainland has filled in.

This is where Sandy Point began eons ago. I had asked several people if they knew the actual spelling of the name. My cousin Anne Evans gave me the clue I need this evening. She told me she thought that the actual name was Jean Thoreau's Island. A quick google revealed that one Jean Thoreau was an American privateer (pirate with a license) who was originally from Jersey in the Channel Islands. Just as interesting is that he is also the grandfather of American philosopher Henry David Thoreau of On Walden's Pond fame.

There has long been talk of pirates operating out of Sandy Point and the Bay St. George area in general. Across the bay from Sandy Point is Sea Wolf Lagoon, shown as Barachois des Loups Marin on French charts from the 1800's.

Strawberry fields forever...

I realized today that I had been seriously neglecting my hammock. Not normally one to shirk my obligations I had failed to attend to my post guarding the potato patch. I obviously could no longer be so lax so after pouring a mixture of Rose's Lime Cordial, ice, soda water and a dash of Lamb's white rum into a tall glass I gathered up my pillow and headed off.

I laid at attention for half an hour, slowly sipping the cooling concoction that allowed me to bear such a rigorous task. The breeze was quite helpful as it not only kept the flies away, it occasionally rocked the hammock allowing me to relax into the proper state of inattention.

Later, as I was weeding said potato patch, I spotted a lovely red berry hiding amongst the dried grasses. A brief period of diligent picking yielded a nice cupful of wild strawberries. Some of these were later added to a salad of fresh romaine lettuce from the garden, with sundried tomatoes and thin slices of videllia onion tossed with a vinaigrette made up of balsamic vinegar, extra virgin olive oil, honey and fresh basil.

It is a difficult life to live but someone has to do it. Oh my! There is a nightcap of scotch that needs to be drank. Duty calls!

Day of the dolphins...

Sometimes when you are really lucky you have an extra special day. Today was one for me and my sister Gwendolyn.

We were on Sandy Point today. We had gone there to help some people bring over the ashes of their uncle who had recently died. Gwendolyn provided the internment rite (she is an Anglican Deacon) while I filmed the day. I will be using parts of it in my film on Sandy Point.

On the way back we encountered a herd of dolphins feeding in the bay. I managed to capture some of it on my video camera. You can check it out here. Day of the Dolphins.

A strange and awesome feeling...

I have been reflecting on the changes in my life over the past few years. Almost four years ago I became a grandfather. That was the same year that I went back to university full time. Before I had even completed my undergraduate degree I knew I had to at least continue to a Masters.

Well that is almost done now and soon I will be headed back west to begin my PhD. There were times that I did not expect or want to go back to Calgary. There seemed too much baggage and pain. But once I worked through it and knew what I really wanted for myself I felt ready.

But it is not just me. Starting in September D'Arcy, Evan and Tianna will all be in grad school. And Dylan has turned around his school life, getting over 75% in all of his grades this year. He has three more terms of high school and he will be done. Then he plans to attend the Vancouver Film School.

And now I feel centred and grounded and at peace. It is a strange and awesome feeling.

Projects and deadlines...

I have spent the last week getting Tianna and the twins settled in St. John's but I have also managed to work on some of the important details of my final project for my Masters. One critical element is that I now have a real deadline that I am working under. Once I complete the filming I have to finish the revisions to my journal and of course complete the last chapter and the analysis. My goal is to have my journal ready for examination by the end of the month. That will allow me to be ready to drive off to Calgary where I will start on my PhD.

One thing that is fascinating for me is the interesting twists that have happened as I oepn up my work to the public and invite participation. I have to embrace the fact that it also means I surrender a measure of control over my work. Unexpected interjections from people who have a real interest in Sandy Point simply cannot be ignored. In some measure they are critical to my work. Several amazing changes have come out of an interview done by the local paper The Georgian. Now it seems the article has been picked up The Telegram in St. John's, the major provincial daily.

I don't know where this is going but the ride is getting pretty exciting.

And D'Arcy makes three...

I just got a phone call from my oldest - D'Arcy. He has been accepted into graduate school at York University in Toronto. That means this year all three of my children will be in graduate school at the same time.

Could a father be prouder?

Farewell Sneaky...

I returned about an hour ago from a three day road trip to St. John's and found myself faced with not unexpected by rather sad news. My sister Gwendolyn's dog Sneaky had passed.

I say not unexpected because Sneaky had congestive heart failure and his health had definitely declined over the past month or so. Gwendolyn had been away attending the Anglican General Synod in Winnipeg and had just gotten back yesterday. Apparently Sneaky was in fine form and full of energy upon her return but last night he did not sleep

Today the vet confirmed he was in coronary failure.

Our neighbour Mark helped me to dig a plot for Sneaky behind Gwen's greenhouse. Our home is terribly quiet now.

Beauty where you find it...

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I love walking through the woods on our property if for no other reason then that I am continually surprised by the beauty that I encounter. This photos taken by my son Evan show just a few.

This orchid is growing on a dead tree by the brook.









Here the light shines down through a green canopy over one of the trails I have been reopening through the woods.





















Here a tiny leaf that provided lunch for some insect reacts by turning colour.


















And sometimes you find beauty right on your doorstep. This squirrel paid a visit to our deck just as I was sitting down for dinner. I snapped his picture then sat down and ate.


















Of course sometimes even when you don't actually get to see them, you know the wildlife has been there - recently!

I'm still here...

In case you were wondering if I had fallen off the face of the world I have been very busy working on my project - writing - shooting film - interviewing people. It is starting to come together in new and interesting ways.

I also spent a day in the woods with Evan cutting some logs for my cabin. I do have pictures! Here I am limbing a tree I just cut down.


In this next one we have put up some of the logs to get an idea of the space I'll have inside and to begin to plan the interior layout.



The walk back to the house is through some old trails that I have reopened. There is a quiet beauty in these woods that calms the most troubled spirit.

A day filled with beauty...

It was Father's day today and it was a day filled with simple beauty and joy. I slept in until almost 11 AM, luxuriating in the soft light and the gentle songs of birds. Then I got up and drove into town to drove off my truck to my daughter.

I was greeted by my grandchildren, who had a card and two photos for me - and of course hugs and kisses. Then I strolled home at a leisurely pace taking about 2 hours for a walk that I normally do in one. But then I was strolling along the beach, listening to the waves break on the shore even as the tide fell away, revealing more sandy beach.

After I got back to the house I enjoyed a couple of the beer I recently bottled off followed by a semi-nap while listening to some of my Beatles's collection. Then made a cup of tea and had a little snack. After that I took the hatchet and went for a stomp in the wood. I am opening up old trails so family and friends can enjoy the woods the way I do.

On my walk I spotted a brilliantly coloured orchid, one of the tiny ones that grow in the boglands here. It was a lovely shade of purple. I will try to get a photo. Deeper in the woods I encountered on of the toads that seem to be populating the place.

This evening as I returned from having a coffee with my daughter I had to stop and take in the beauty of a waxing moon hanging over a cloud bank. It was bright enough to paint a stripe of light across the water of the bay. Above it and somewhat to the left Mercury twinkled brighter than all the stars.

This was a day filled with peace and beauty.

Butterflies aren't free...

I got my truck back today. Some of you may have missed the part where I gave Helios to Evan and bought a Mazda -Luna- pickup from D'Arcy. I had to have the engine replaced and that has been a titanic tale in itself.

But I digress. Today I took Tianna and the twins Connor and Eden to Deer Lake where there is an Insectarium. The kids were really excited about the idea and Eden was determined she would have a butterfly land on her finger - just like in Angelina Ballerina - her current favourite cartoon.

Well as the photo reveals the only butterfly that landed chose my behind.

Fortunately Tianna had her digital camera handy and was able to capture the moment for posterity.

Here's a shot I took of one of the more colourful specimens.

A work in progress...

Well my log cabin has finally become a work in progress instead of a dream. This morning I cut the other sills and after lunch I dropped the first two logs. And I am doing all of the cutting with an axe and a buck saw. I hate having the quiet of the woods destroyed by the noise of a chain saw.

This way I also don't need to lug along gas and oil and I am getting a great workout. I do need to bring lots of water though because it is hot work.

Evan will be here by Sunday so we will soon have some more digital photos for the blog. Don't get too excited - I have just barely started.

Battle of the flies and other things...

I went into the woods yesterday determined I would cut the first logs for my cabin. I soon discovered as I bent over to cut the first one that I was breathing blackflies and mosquitoes. They were not biting but I was eating them.

I dropped one log, hauled it into place and fled the woods.

But today I sent the next chapter of my journal off to my supervisor/tutor. Now I have to start filming to give me something to write about. That has to happen next week.

After lunch I watched my grandchildren chase soap bubbles and butterflies today. I also had an ice cream treat with them and then walked home while checking out every interesting stone and plant.

I just finished my stretching exercises for my back. I do it to deal with this nasty knot I have had for years. It has gotten progressively worse. One massage therapist recently told me "Stretch - stretch!" So I have been doing some yoga stretches I learned years ago - and they work. I don't wake up in pain anymore and while the knot is there still, it is getting smaller each day. I was reflecting on this as I was stretching tonight. I had this moment of true insight where I really understood that in the end we must heal ourselves. In my head I heard the phrase from the Charge of the Goddess written by Doreen Valiente:

That if that which thou seekest

Thou findest not within thee,

Thou wilt never find it without thee.

I felt a sense of peace and freedom then knowing that I was complete by myself.

Back on track...

After a couple of weeks in St. John's I have finally gotten back on track with my schedule. I spent the morning editing and writing my journal followed by a couple of hours in the woods cutting material for the weir.

I have it partially constructed now along with the beginnings of a new bridge across the brook. I will try to get some photos soon to show the work in progress.

Time is definitely slipping away and I am beginning to feel a certain level of anxiety about my project(s). The big worry of course is that I simply run out of money and have to look for work. Now that would be a definite drag.

A perfect day...

If I was to describe a perfect day it might go something like this. First it would be sunny and warm, say around + 23 Celsius. It would be mostly spent on a nice sandy beach. There would be a light breeze to keep it from feeling too hot.

The tide would be falling so that the water was warmed enough that you could wade or even swim if you had thought to don your swim wear. And you would be accompanied by your daughter and your grandchildren.

First you would take a leisurely stroll along the beach picking up sea shells. On the way back you would gather wood for a fire. Then you would build sandcastles and splash about in the water. Once you had worked up a really good appetite and taken a second stroll you would light a fire and cook hot dogs followed by marshmallows.

After lots of sun you would climb the big sand cliff and go to the house where everyone would wash off in nice cool baths or showers. This would be later followed by a nice evening dinner followed by bedtime stories for the kiddies and drinks for the adults.

The whole day would be topped off by a glorious sunset that painted the sky in brilliant reds and pinks with the promise of another wonderful day to come.

More from the woods...

I took a lot of photos on Sunday and I have only posted a few. I will keep adding a few more as I have time. This first one shows the very spot that I will be building the weir.

















I also spotted a really odd little fungus.

A pictoral tour of the woods...

Today on my stomp through the woods I took along my sister Gwendolyn's digital camera and got some excellent pictures. Here are a few. I'll add more later.

This first one is by the brook where I will be building a new bridge. These are irises that my father planted a long time ago. They were lost in the trees but now that I have started to clear the area they are growing again.

The next shot shows the brook and if you look carefully you can see the place where I will be building the weir. I will have to clear away some of the growth that is choking the brook. Then there will be a beautiful spot to enjoy the pool that will be created by the weir. Even in this dense bush the blue sky can be seen reflected in the water.
These are the remains of a cabin my father built about 40 years ago. Not far from here is the valley where I will be putting up my own cabin.



In fact this is the very spot!

It's hammock time!

It is almost +20c here today and I am working hard to get my beer bottled becuae it is hammock time!

I really had not expected it to arrive so soon but as I was taking a coffee break [Hey - you have to take a break from leisure sometimes!] I closed my eyes and listed to the gentle breeze filled with the sounds of the numerous songbirds celebrating the beauty of the day.

So in about one hour I will be sipping a cool beer and enjoying the fruits of my labour - and of course I will be on guard duty at my potato patch.

The engine is here!

Let the bells ring out and the banners fly! It's too good to be true but at long last the engine I paid for on April 13th has at last arrived from Ontario. My little Mazda p/u is now safely ensconced in a local garage awaiting repairs.

Meanwhile I will be off to St. John's to attend some meetings and do some research for my journal and film.

Staking out my space...

I completed a chapter in my journal today - the one I have to complete for my Masters of Philosophy in Humanities. To celebrate I went for a stomp in the woods. I have not been there in a couple of weeks with all of the rainy weather.

I staked out a 12' by 20' space for my cabin, picked out a spot for my well and located a good place for the privy. Then I walked back along the property line bushwacking my way to the brook that runs through our property.

Tomorrow I will go back with my sister's digital camera and provide some visuals.

Down for the count...

I have discovered that it is possible to hydroplane in rubber boots on a wet deck. Monday evening I was preparing to barbecue some lovely thick porkchops - despite the rain. I had just gotten it all fired up and put the potatos on to give them a head start. As I headed back inside I remembered I had forgotten to lower the cover on the barbecue.

I pivoted around and was smacked in the face by the deck that had somehow leapt up to meet me. I found myself rather puzzled by this turn of events so I decided I should probably stay still and contemplate just what had happened.

After a few moments of embracing the cool wet wood I went inside and suggested to my sister Gwendolyn that she might want to take over cooking the chops. I stayed inside and made a salad and of course applied some ice to my head.

North coast beauty...

I went up to Rocky Harbour today with my friend Beverly. I had not been up that way in a lot of years and I had almost forgotten just how spectacular the scenery is. If you have never been to Gros Morne then you are denying your self one of lifes simple pleasures.

Here is a typical view.

Flowers in the dirt...

I often struggle with ideas about value systems. Just where do we find truth and beauty? Do we only look to the heavens or in the majestic poetry and prose of Shakespeare? What does it mean then when a simple television show can touch some corner of our hearts and minds?

It is no less a profound an experience that comes from a glimpse into a dark corner that reveals a glimmer of light when it is some commercial show that generally follows the banal and formulaic path in the ratings game.

I am always amazed at how much hope I feel at times like that. For all that as a species we are abusive and ugly we are no less beautiful and filled with light. Perhaps that is the very essence of being alive in this world of ours. We yearn to be more than we are or dream of becoming all that we can be.

Playing with half a deck...

We had to make a terrible sacrifice today. We gave up half of our deck to fix the septic system. But it was well worth the price. Tonight we peed relentlessly and flushed toilets madly.

The relief was palpable.

The deck will be restored. The flowers will be replanted. The lawn will grow back My bladder is purring. We are flush with excitement instead of excrement.

Waiting for Potato...

So the hammock is slung, though it needs some adjustment. I will have to get some rope and raise it a little higher. That said it is a double wide and the second space is available for rent - for a modest fee to be negotiated in advance of course.

Morning vista...

I wake every morning to the sound of the white throated sparrow with its musical serenade. Getting out of bed is seldom difficult simply because I get to sit in the sunporch and look out on scenes like this as purple and golden finches come for their morning meal.

And the flowers are now beginning to bloom as the lawn finally turns from brown to green.

Landscapes...

I had a very productive day both indoors and out. I got a large part of one chapter through an initial draft though I will need to do rewrites I feel like I am gaining some momentum.

I also got my potatos planted today - two varieties Russet and Blue. I should get about upwards of 100 pounds.

And of course since I will need to carefully guard my crop I have also prepared a spot for my guardpost.

I will be slinging a hammock between the two white spruce once I purchase it tomorrow.
But there are other vistas to enjoy from this spot as well, such as the mountains as seen from an upstairs window.






If you look very carefully you may spot the osprey nest as well. There are several pairs nesting on out property.