An Old Photograph

An Old Photograph
 
An old photograph resurfaced after many years in my closet ‘Collection of Artifacts and a Myriad Mysteries’. It was a picture I took of my husband, Roger, and our two children, Alissa and Aaron, both in their pre-teens.
There was nothing extraordinary or ‘special’ about our little family, but now and then we glimpsed the special magic of Nature. Perhaps it was just our receptive appreciation of Nature that often attracted messengers of the wilderness into our lives.
Looking at that photo, I recalled the journey of that first of July, ‘Canada Day’. My memory became more vivid, feeling the sizzling heat of the day and my aching muscles as we winched and coaxed our aluminum boat and fishing gear up the challenging portage. It was a slow, exhausting process that grounded our visions of carefree relaxation floating on the lake beyond. We all pitched in to make it through that frustrating, mosquito-annoying, hot and arduous struggle. I remember taking sips of cold water mixed with my sweat and a little fly-repellant, and being just too tired to care. I remember thinking The Eternal Question—‘Why are we here?’ Then, free of the hill and burden of ‘details’ we’d brought, we were finally back on water enjoying the luxury of a working outboard-motor. As we sped along, I thanked God for the millionth time and all the ingenious humans who’d ever invented labour-saving machinery. I have never been sophisticated enough to take such things for granted.
An hour or so later of cooling breeze and boat vibrations, we decided that we’d ‘arrived’ at our unknown destination. The lightened cooler was opened once again, and we hungrily devoured our sandwiches. Mine also had the added flavours of sweat and fly-dope and fish bait. I can taste the memory even now.
Shortly after our meal was eaten and our bait was put to work, we had a visit from an unexpected guest. A messenger of Nature surfaced near our boat to thrill us with a clearly communicating display, soundly slapping its large, flat tail on the water. Everything is truly the meaning one gives to it, and from our welcoming perspective we interpreted the warning sign to be the ‘Canada Day Beaver’s Salute’. The timing was perfect! We had worked so hard to get to that ‘special place’ of quiet peace and floating freedom, like the beaver who ‘greeted’ us. I understood the natural warning of ‘Don’t anyone even think of taking these values away from this place!’ That’s when beavers shape-shift into fighting creatures much more aggressive and fierce. A sanctuary of peace and freedom is what Canadian families, and so many individual Canadians, have worked so hard to create, to continually maintain, and to gratefully enjoy. We salute all who share such values and warn those who don’t.
Then I thought, recalling that extraordinary/ordinary event on ‘Canada Day’—‘For however long we Canadians choose to unite as a country, may Canada’s national pride aways be tempered by a healthy humility as it grows to be a co-creator of a higher vision of World Unity. That isn’t too much for any Global Citizen to hope for, n’est-ce pas?’
I placed the old photograph back into my closet ‘Collection of Artifacts and a Myriad Mysteries’ with a wistful smile.
April 27, 2006

Spiritual Reminders

 

 waterlily
L ove Transforms
U nderstanding Evolves
C ompassion Heals
K indness Blesses All
Y ou are Spirit
Y ou are Life
O neness is Life’s Truth
U ltimate Truth Frees

Blue Values

 
They met in the tranquil blue frequency
of calming rhythmic sound and soothing light—
blue flowing over them gently like a cool breeze,
a balm for their minds and hearts
in need of inner peace.
They found each other in the world of dreams,
that magical freedom-realm of a different reality.
There, she opened her eyes feeling refreshed
from the serene solitude of quiet contemplations,
meditative-blue spiritual insights,
and trusting prayers of gratitude.
She discovered herself resting in an ethereal garden
filled with bright blue delphiniums
reaching upward with all their being to the heavens
and pale blue forget-me-nots
humbly beautifying the jewelled soil.
When he approached her in his starry astral body,
she heard the music of flutes and wind-chimes,
smelled the fragrant scent of cedars and pines,
and felt her heart grow still with wonder
seeing blue star-sapphires in his shining eyes.
An aerial kiss of electric blue energy
descended from above, touching each sparkling brow
before penetrating their welcoming hearts.
They stood entranced by this blue fire
that now burned so radiantly within them.
Here was the hope of realizing
their most valued desires and dreams—
truthfulness and trustworthiness,
honesty and honour,
loyalty and loving-kindness…
The shared memory of this vivid dream-vision
awoke them to what could be,
and each vowed to make it so…
February,1997 revised April,2004

The Loon

 
A black and white vision of solitude on a lonely lake,
the loon moved silently on the still water
surrounded by the mysteries of the early morning mists.
A battered canoe glided into sight,
piloted by a human male whose appearance
likewise declared a love of wilderness and solitude.
The man’s searching eyes disclosed
a shining clarity of thought miscalled madness
for want of understanding by those who judged him so.
Society had shunned him as he had shunned
the mad cruelties and rigid intolerance
of outdated, unevolved social structures.
The loon instantly recognized a companion of spirit.
With wings outstretched in a universal sign
of respectful acknowledgment and acceptance,
he voiced his shrill, reverberating salute…
The loud, clarion call haunted the visionary atmosphere
through which the poet followed his quest.
While alarming more fearful creatures, this call
stimulated the predatory instincts in other hungry listeners.
Inspired by the amazing power of this peculiar poetry,
the human echoed the lyrical call with gratitude.
Then, in silence, the loon moved further up the lake
exploring the mysterious mists beyond—
the mists he loved and could not fear.
April,1992 revised May, 2004 February, 2006

The Rabbit

 
A small and insignificant wild rabbit
quietly hopped about the challenging landscape,
refusing, when he chose, to limit his free movement
by the border fences of rigid human rules.
Passing through religious and political barriers
with the ease of a ghost,
he ignored the forbidding signs
and psychological warfare
aimed at freedom-loving creatures like him.
Overcoming his natural timidity,
he charged with determined courage of conviction
up the ominous, fortified ridge of man’s intimidation.
There he took his small but spiritually significant
stand for freedom’s victory.
Upon the ridge, he rested in silent thought.
Then he saw a greater victory head.
He filled his humble heart and mind
with an all-encompassing and all-forgiving love—
even for those tiny, malicious mosquitos
and their unending invective attacks.
The lush garden lay invitingly before him
and he rushed to his reward…
April, 1992 revised May,2004