Tuesday, January 29, 2019

pema chodron.


from: ’The Places That Scare You’. by Pema Chodron.

without having ever met the lady i like her, have for many years. her writings always feel authentic, filled with a loving heart and an open mind. i don’t entirely understand what she writes, like within this article. for example, why should we stay in the so-called middle? why shouldn’t we dwell in a continuous state of equanimity and warmth? but i adore this line perhaps most of all: ”Becoming intimate with the queasy feeling of being in the middle of nowhere only makes our hearts more tender.”

the overall effect of this article, as well as others i’ve read that i don’t entirely understand, is incredibly lovely. chodron leads our attention to a state of compassion, for ourselves, for everyone. sometimes we don’t need to understand perfectly well. sometimes it’s enough to understand or perceive where the person’s coming from, so to speak. perhaps that’s just as the great lady so beautifully says: “it’s how the warrior learns to love.”

"We are told about the pain of chasing after pleasure and the futility of running from pain. We hear also about the joy of awakening, of realizing our interconnectedness, of trusting the openness of our hearts and minds. But we aren't told all that much about this state of being in-between, no longer able to get our old comfort from the outside but not yet dwelling in a continual sense of equanimity and warmth.
Anxiety, heartbreak, and tenderness mark the in-between state. It's the kind of place we usually want to avoid. The challenge is to stay in the middle rather than buy into struggle and complaint. The challenge is to let it soften us rather than make us more rigid and afraid. Becoming intimate with the queasy feeling of being in the middle of nowhere only makes our hearts more tender. When we are brave enough to stay in the middle, compassion arises spontaneously. By not knowing, not hoping to know, and not acting like we know what's happening, we begin to access our inner strength.
Yet, it seems reasonable to want some kind of relief. If we can make the situation right or wrong, if we can pin it down in any way, then we are on familiar ground. But something has shaken up our habitual patterns and frequently they no longer work. Staying with volatile energy gradually becomes more comfortable than acting out or repressing it. This open-ended tender place is called bodhichitta. Staying with it is what heals. It allows us to let go of our self-importance. It's how the warrior learns to love".

Sunday, January 27, 2019

the survivalist.


it has been brought to my attention that propane fumes can kill while kerosene might only cause brain damage. i found that information strangely reassuring. and so of course i opted for a kerosene heater when shopping around for a backup heat source. 

the fact is my new kerosene heater’s a backup to my backup. i installed a fabulously expensive propane fireplace a few years ago fundamentally for power outages just like the one we endured last week. my neighbour had texted me about the outage while i was in ottawa, and she did mention power wasn’t expected before eleven that night. i was largely unconcerned because of my propane fireplace. the battery-pack would keep the pilot light lit, it’d kick into action according to the temperature i’d set it at. what could possibly go wrong?

upon my return the house did feel a little nippy. so i immediately trundled off down the stairs only to discover the dam thing hadn’t kicked into action at all. and i couldn’t get the thing to work for love nor money. it looked good, styled as an iron antique wood-stove with fake logs behind a front glass. it always worked well while the house was on the grid, so to speak. but it remained spectacularly dormant on that occassion just when i needed it most. and to make matters worse my little propane heater, camping stove and all my candles were at the cottage. 

anyway, i did what any seasoned survivalist and world traveller would do in a situation like that. i drove over to tim hortons. 

Friday, January 4, 2019

Jake’s Journey 2.


Old Jake walked to the post-office boxes by the highway. He usually waited ‘til late, enjoyed the privacy of darkness, under the stars, taking his time along the long dirt road. He really didn’t care if there was a letter or not, probably preferred not, and there were none that time. There was a flicker, however, a dark shadow glancing across the metal boxes causing Jake to look back over his shoulder.

He never took one of the bags of brochures and coupons left hanging on the hook. He just carried on walking, along the highway to the next road. Jake did that when there wasn’t much traffic, made his way back along the other long dirt road that passed by at the back of his property. 

As he strolled across the grass he spotted the black-bear cub bashfully half hidden behind one of the trees that ringed the large yard. Jake stopped for a moment. Wondering where mama bear might be at he scanned the whole district quickly, carefully. Then keeping his distance from the young one he made his way up to the house. Mama didn’t seem to be in the picture or, well, the parent wasn’t apparent in any case as Jake stood on his back steps taking another good look around. 

The cub had moved out right into the open field beside where a few chords of firewood were stacked under a green tarp. He or she stood right up and sniffed the air, seemingly ok with old Jake being not too far. But for his part, still wondering where mama might be, Jake didn’t feel quite so comfortable. He went inside, glanced back through the window before throwing the keys in the basket and sitting down at the yellow 1940s kitchen table. He opened the iPad to check any emails, rather surprised that one was waiting from his old best friend Victor. Because he really hadn’t spoken to Victor since he’d run off with Jake’s wife over two decades earlier.

Sometime in-between absently watching a couple innings of baseball and taking out his teeth for the night, old Jake peered out his kitchen window again. The bear seemed to have wandered off, which was good. He had no intention of befriending a bear cub. He sat back down at the table to re-read the email. It was pretty simple, pretty much to the point. Laurie was dying and had mentioned it’d be nice to see Jake. The message ended with the hospital’s address in Picton only he had no intention of actually going. That was outta the question.

Their marriage hadn’t been wonderful, great or eventually even ok. There certainly hadn’t been a lotta nuptial bliss happening. Laurie had expected there would be, had wanted there to be, but the truth was Jake came from a long line of spectacularly un-blissful people, nuptial or otherwise. She hadn’t known that at first, unfortunately, and Jake tried. He really did. In his way he honestly loved her. But, more to the point, he was afraid of ending up all alone, which of course is exactly what happened. And even after being all alone had become actually blissful, even after accepting that he’d virtually pushed Laurie away, he held onto the grudge.   

Evening had almost turned to night. He grabbed an apple and wandered out onto his deck, as he liked to do right about that time of day. He sat down at the picnic table and took his first bite while simultaneously sensing, realizing and then actually noticing that he wasn’t entirely alone. There was still enough light to see huddled the black shape between the boards. The bear-cub, obviously no longer the least bit bashful, had curled up right beside the deck and didn’t seem concerned about old Jake at all. Jake slowly stood and reached over the railing, offering up his apple, letting it fall in front of the creature before moving toward the door and off to bed. He hoped it’d be gone by morning.

In the dim early morning light, however, the bear-cub was rolling around on the grass, disturbing the mist, shaking up the dew and making old Jake smile broadly. Jake never smiled broadly, and yet there he was smiling broadly. He grabbed a few apples, a couple pears, his coffee and strolled out. He sat down on the top step of the deck and boldly held out a piece of an apple. The cub waddled right up and snatched it out of Jake’s outstretched hand, plopped down a few feet away and ate the thing unceremoniously. They sat there together eating fruit. And by the time all the apples and pears were gone they were good.

The bear wasn’t much of a talker and Jake had to do the cooking, but Bear was an agreeable sort for sure. He’d begun simply calling her Bear. It seemed appropriate. She followed him all ’round the property over the next few days, never strayed too far afield. She waited patiently for him to come outside or arrive back home. Bear became aware of his moods though he tried not to be moody. Jake more or less accepted her strange ways. They took time to get to know each other. He kinda assumed she was a ‘she’ maybe because of the way she went about her business or because she wasn’t quite as bulky as a ‘he’ would be. Or maybe it just made Jake feel more comfortable about the whole affair. Whatever may have been the case they’d effectively joined forces by the time Victor’s next message arrived. 

Old Jake was still definitely not gonna go see Laurie. There was no chance of that. But he did want one more trip before the end of summer. The cub, who seemed a bit bigger and bulkier every day, watched Jake crank up the camper’s jacks one at a time methodically until it was at full height. He didn’t appreciate the look Bear was giving him as he pulled his F150 into position. He didn’t like being pushed. Meanwhile, inch by inch he backed the truck in, getting out to look several times, making sure to get it just right. Inch by inch Jake backed it in under the camper until it was in place. He cranked the thing down onto the truck-bed, attached the tie-downs and only then did he turn to Bear: “Forget about it miss. No you aint comin and that’s that.”

Nevertheless they inevitably drove off together next morning, headed south, then west without a plan. Silver lake wasn’t far enough. Jake didn’t really wanna go to Bon Echo again. He wasn’t into heading up to Algonquin. However, even though it was too close to Picton for comfort, he did like the idea of going to Sandbanks Provincial Park. He’d never been there before, highly doubted that Bear had either. He knew that having a growing black-bear in the back seat of his pickup could possibly cause quite a kafuffel at the park, even at any time along the way. And she couldn’t help with the driving, frankly had questionable personal hygiene, but he enjoyed the company, figured to work out the kinks along the way. 

As it happened there were no kafuffels along the way. Some hoots and hollers but no actual kafuffel. And in the end they never made it to Sandbanks at all. On the first afternoon rain and wind pelted them, excuse the expression, so hard that Jake pulled off the highway early, near Gananoque. They spent their first night in a Tim Hortons parking lot, beside a large corn-field. Bear had the back seat and the field while old Jake was in the camper. 

The rain was torrential, monsoon-ish, and water dripped steadily in through the air-conditioning unit. The bench-cushions were awash before Jake noticed. He emptied kitchen stuff out of one of the plastic bins, placed it strategically under the leak, only it took a further few minutes to figure out why that wasn’t working. He stared quizzically from the bin to the water pooling on the camper floor and back until he finally figured out that the plastic bin itself was leaking. So he replaced that one with another better one and eventually, wondering if Bear was having a better night than he, crawled up top to try and get some sleep at least until he needed to empty the bin. 

They drove down next morning into Prince Edward County and through Picton. Looking back at Bear through the mirror he inaudibly muttered: ‘I aint gonna go see her, that’s for sure.’ Bear never said a word of course and they continued right on out to Sandbanks. The rain had subsided, the sun was at its most brilliant: a perfect day to spend by the lake. Or so it woulda been were it not for the lineup miles long of vehicles full of hordes hoping for a treasured spot at Sandbanks Provincial Park. Hundreds of rigs, from little cars to huge diesel-pushers, snaked along the road moving as slowly as could possibly be. 

So Jake wheeled into a five-point turn soon enough and drove straight back to Picton and, yes, directly on up to Prince Edward County Memorial Hospital. He parked as usual near where there was some natural space, a wooded area that time, and demanded perhaps a little too gruffly that Bear stay nearby and behave before he entered the red-brick building.

Old Jake was guided to Laurie’s room by a large friendly nurse, the door was open so he walked in. Victor looked seriously old, haggard, although Jake figured he himself probably didn’t look much better after the night he’d had. But Victor lit right up when he saw his long lost friend. One might even say he slowly jumped out of his chair. Smiling broadly he wrapped his arms ‘round Jake. “Jake I’m so glad you came. I’m so glad to see you. It’s really really good of you,” he spluttered. And Jake simply responded matter-of-factly: “Of course.”

He looked down at the frail, skin-and-bones lady shining up at him from the bed. The once sparkling young vibrant girl full of love and grace had become after all a sparkling old dying woman full of love and grace. Extricating himself softly from Victor’s embrace he sat down on Laurie’s bed, took her hand and kissed her warmly on the forehead as she began to cry. “Jake I’m sorry,” she whispered through her tears. “You have nothing to apologize for,“ he said stroking her sallow cheek. “I should apologize to you, and I do. I’m a stubborn stupid old man but I’ve always loved you.” 

By then, however, they all became aware of a kafuffel going on out in the hall. Bear had been sniffing her way slowly through the hospital while doctors, nurses and patients screamed and bounced from wall to wall to avoid the creature. There had never been a kafuffel like it before. Even the security guard shrunk back into his corner impotently, having no point of reference for something so strange. And as the lumbering beast passed through the door into laurie’s room Victor yelled, Laurie gasped as two attendants followed behind not at all sure what to do. Old Jake turned around on the bed before holding up both arms high and emphatically announcing: “It’s ok, she’s with me!”

There was a long moment, a pregnant silence, as everyone tried to grapple with the situation. Bear put a paw up on Jake’s right shoulder and Laurie, looking from one to the other and back, began to laugh. She began to laugh, harder, deeper, like never before. And that’s how she died. Laurie literally died laughing.