Day 49 (March 6)

I took a walk around my home-town after the funeral of my dear friend's mother this past Thursday. This is a stylized pic of my childhood friend's house that I took on this walk. As a girl, I spent a lot of time behind the two front windows on a Sunday eating chips out of cereal bowls, icecream out of mugs and Sunday dinner on a huge table that always felt bursting with food and big people I did not know.

 My friend was the youngest of 5 whose siblings were always accompanied by assorted girlfriends and boyfriends at the table and on the couch, often lying side-by-side eating cake after church. My friend was the blonde, blue-eyed baby sister who was adored and admonished by all. I was protected from this admonishment as I never felt entitled to the the last slice of pie. I was content to eat and pass the gravy and listen to the arguments volleying back and forth across the table. I was quite fascinated by it, coming from a home where I was the oldest child and the only thing volleying across the table were frozen peas.

The food in that house was probably the best food in all of Beamsville. Strawberries were not bought at fruit stands but picked fresh with the morning dew. Tomatoes were kept in the sun as they should, meat cooked until tender rather than leather. Cold-cuts and cheese were the highlights of a sandwich rather than a side-show to the bread. Pie was flaky and oozing with Niagara fruit. Food was respected and paid attention to. I think margarine was the kind of product that was mocked in that house. Along with shake n' bake and Kraft Pizza kits. However, low brow Cheezies, Sour Cream and Onion chips and Mars Bars were not sniffed at but valued for all their delectable goodness. It was quality, not labels that mattered.

My friend's mother was recently eulogized as "A quiet servant dutifully working behind the scenes." Indeed. She rocked a lot of babies for others, fed her family, and all assorted folk who stepped in her door, quality food that couldn't be found on a menu anywhere in the Niagara Peninsula. She spent over 30 years delivering Meals on Wheels to the elderly or sick and always included a nice piece of pie. She cared for an elderly lady across the street as if she was her own mother - I remember the passing of meals and baskets of fresh peaches across the street.

But she wasn't quiet nor dutiful.
She didn't do anything out of duty or obligation, she wanted to do these things and did them freely, picking and choosing the things that suited her. She didn't have to include a slice of home-made pie in a Meals on Wheels lunch, but she did it anyway. She felt in her heart it was right and she did it. It was an inner obligation, an inner standard that was her own.

And no, she wasn't quiet. She was bold. Bold in her generosity - no one could stand in her house and not be fed or cared about like they were her own charge. Before you knew it, you were sitting down with a generously iced piece of cake even though it was no one's birthday. She was also bold with her opinions. Those opinions flying at Sunday dinner? She was right in the middle of them. And though I never knew what they all were so passionately arguing about, Mrs. Wikkerink would state her final opinion and end it by saying "Period!"  That was that. She may have been un-educated by today's standards, but she knew things and stood her ground.

And she was right.

People need to be fed good food no matter who they are or what they've done. Period!

May you rest in peace knowing that your pie saved people in ways they have only begun to understand.

Day ...well, many days...

I've been walking everyday (!)  but not taking photos everyday.

I felt pressure to find a photo,
whereas I would rather just take a photo when it presents itself to me.

But it was a good 30-day challenge.
It gave me a healthy habit and eliminated a few unhealthy ones,
 like sitting indoors all winter eating chips on the couch.
Not getting any exercise from November to April.
Feeling lousy so I eat more chips.
So I will walk everyday. I love my new habit.
It connects me with the little world around me and allows me to quiet my
monkey brain enough to notice things.
It also gives me a shot of daily exercise. I will post when I notice something.
This pic captures a lovely Saturday morning I spent in the sun
with my tulipsand a few cups of coffee.
 Life is a string of lovely little moments that are given
 to you freely and are abundantly available.
Sometimes they are right in front of you, but other times
you have to get up and walk around
 so they can find you.

Day39

Home sweet home. Sometimes I feel a little creepy walking around at night taking pics.

Once I saw someone looking at me through their living-room window 

- looking at me looking at them, 

or at least their fantastic front-yard tree.

So I took one at home tonight. 

No one was looking through the window at me looking at them. 

Robert was watching Breaking Bad.

Day 38

Hey little leaf, let go.

Day 37

Barely there. But Summer existed. I found proof!

Unbelievable that leaves would sing together in the breeze less than a year ago. 

Spring will be sweeter this year.

Day 36

We went for a booze run as they say. LCBO downtown Oakville was shut tight as a drum. Sadness prevailed...walking in the wind for nothing I was thinking but then I saw this. Not very clear as the wind threatened to throw my phone into the harbour. I but I love the patterns of shapes in this pic just the same. 

Thinking more about what Almyra said about Miksang photography. It's like you don't want to fit the thing you notice into your own frame (of reference, perspective, trend etc) but allow it's frame or structure to be itself. I don't think I know how to do that.

Day 35

Went for a walk with Almyra, my dear ex-pat friend who lives in Lux. She is the REAL

photographer in the family. But I noticed a familiar vibe - she stops to look at things while everyone else keeps going down the sidewalk,and often, a camera is between her and what she stops to see. Now I know what it's like to walk with me. Though I think she's more hard-core.

 I am a light-weight compared to her but I am enjoying myself. She talks about the triangle of exposure and I talk about what looks interesting and stop there. 

She introduced me to Miksang, a type of meditative photography 

where you take photos of what strikes you, what opens

up to you, what you notice, what speaks to you. She says this is a discipline 

in that you have to un-train your cultured eyes - we always see through the lense of 

trends and culture and see a different way. I think the cultured lense is inescapable, and yet perhaps we just have to see with a different eye,

the inner eye - a completely different sense altogether. Maybe that's what she's talking about.

Day 34

I'm curious. What were you thinking Elizabeth?

Day 33

I took a quick walk down the road tonight. 

Very refreshing after a long night of working on an assignment.

I submitted it 4 minutes and 37 seconds late the moodle course told me.

That's a nice slap in the face right when you need it most.

I noticed this sign...at the bottom, if you look closely,
you'll see a spray-painted, not-supposed-to-be-there
bat...made with a... bat stencil!
Robert says its twin is on the south bathroom wall in the park
Who carries around a bat stencil in their pocket?
Who communicates in bats, I wonder...

Day 32

I love these put-it-in-my-pocket shots
looks like energy in pure form

Day 31

Goodbye winter. 

The party is over.

DAY 30 !

The last day of my 30 - day challenge. 

The first day of my life-time challenge: to walk mindfully everyday.

I realized that walking everyday is like the idea of non-resistance in life.

This idea teaches us that the cause of our suffering is not our circumstances or reality but our resistance to it.

Walking everyday is like a microcosm of this. A walking metaphor perhaps.

Everyday I  have to accept and open myself up to what the day is:

it's reality - rain, sun , snow, gentle breeze, wind, cold or heat and walk into it.

It is. and I am. 

There will be days, and there were days,

when it's difficult to face reality.
And being open to everything in life is not really possible, how can we not resist death and suffering?
But you probably know this from experience as I do,
suffering is far greater and drawn out when we resist reality
and only deeper if we let go and allow it in,
knit it into ourselves and it becomes a sturdy row
of the fabric of our life.
What is real and true will ground us.
Like walking.

It's been freaking cold out there. I wanted to stay put and drink tea on the sofa.

I didn't want to wrap myself in layer upon layer and brace myself
for cold's bite.

I sighed. I moaned. 

But I did it. And it taught me 

this lesson.

Life is richer, deeper, and far more lovely

 when you face it.
I know I will need to learn this over and over again.
so I walk.

Day 29

Something happened on the way to my pocket.

Day 28

What do you do when you have a lot of work piling up?

You go out for a walk.

Day 27

lights remind us of the lifeforce that dances all around us and within us

Day 26

 Walked by the local tonight,

You could hear a muffled, tinkly piano

 and a handful of voices

straining for harmony
along with

the rest of us.
All howling

 beneath the very same moon

Day 25

For all of you who need to howl at the moon tonight...

Day 24

 Life is a cacaphony of elements thrown in your path

if you look up every once in a while

you will find yourself deliciously immersed

in 

everything

and everything in you.

Day 23

salvation carved in stone

Day 22

Snow is pretty, but cruel.

Day 21

It was me and the snowplows tonight, me

and a few stray dogs going to Shopper's Drug Mart.

Howling to the moon, each their own song.

Dreaming of bed yet not ready to put the day away, 

a last wander through the hills 

before the moon slips behind its cloudy blanket.

Day 20!

Everyday kind of beauty. Beauty everyday.

Day 19

Oh poop!

Day 18

If Andy Warhol had walked with me tonight...

Day 17

This thought from Buddha 

kept humming inside of me as I was walking today:

 "No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. 

We ourselves must walk the path." ~Buddha

Day 16

Walking in the woods on a windless, snowy day is a walking meditation.

 It's silent but for the sound of snowflakes.
That is the first thing you notice. 

Then you feel immediately removed from your kaleidescope life
as if a heavy curtain is being drawn behind you.
The woods is what is real now. 

Snowflakes kiss your cheeks.
The trees silently greet you and bear your passing against their branches.
You are among them now, they embrace you as one of their own.
Your attention is drawn into the exquisite pattern of snow on bark,
 the dripping of ice-sleeved branches.
You pay attention but you remain wordless. Nothing demands a response.
It just is. It quietly unfolds it's being in front of you.
 As you unfold yours. 

Day 15

Winter is a season of waiting and longing for what isn't yet to be.

 But it will be. That is a comfort at least.

Today is the first day of the lunar year. The year of the horse.
A year of energy and luck. 

A year to launch new things, and maybe old things too.
 But we must wait for thaw to come, for the moon and sun and stars to align with the mind of the universe and let us go. 

What are we doing now that will prepare us for that moment? For it will come. Our habits, our energy, our awareness, our presence should all be aligned towards that moment.

Day 14

Some bunny was having fun. The wind this evening almost felt , dare I say, balmy? 

 I relaxed a bit in the wind rather than walking briskly against its sharpness.

Footprints in the snow seemed melted at the edges. 

The snow didn't crunch but mushed about underfoot.

Relative to what we've had lately, it felt like a party outside.

 I bought some licorice. 

I played fetch with Ruby and a stick. I chatted with a neighbour.

 I saw a few people out and about - some joggers, a kid with headphones singing to himself. I heard voices coming up the stairs when I was walking across the bridge. 

 felt like change in the air. 

The wind is rising now as I type. A warm wind with soft snow. I popped my head out to check.

a party out there i tell you!

Day 13

 I admire graffiti  - the sculpted letters, the blaze of colour where it's not supposed to be. I took a photo here this summer when I discovered this path on one of my summer night walks. I took another today, and after I pocketed my phone I walked by dirt and salt crusted scarves and blankets, and a human-sized gap in the fence that anyone could pass through. You could pick your way down the ravine and go to the river. 

I think anyone who used this space headed for the warmth of the shelters in the city long ago. In the spring they'll be back with their sleeping bags, going down to the river, watching graffiti artists decorate, building bonfires and sitting on discarded lawn furniture, observing middle class women taking pictures of their space. 

Wouldn't it be odd if they took a pic right back at me? Middle class woman walking in her down parka loaded down with shopping bags from the mall pulling out her cellphone and taking a pic of what amuses her...there should be a gallery for photos like that. It feels uncomfortable to be the observed. 

We feel far more comfortable, far more used to doing the observing. 

Day 12

Lit clouds above our house. 

 I walked at sunset to avoid a frigid late-night walk. It wasn't any warmer.

But have you noticed sunset is getting later everyday?

It feels like the-eternal-winter-that-has-no-end,
but now we know that
Spring
hasn't
abandoned us!
Cold comfort, I know.

Day 11

No one was outside. I was truly walking solo. Not even a car on the road. I was walking in the middle as you can see. Minus 30 with the windchill they said. glad for the scarf up to my nose. Walkin' in the Middle of the Road, Ya ah! (Chrissy  - Thre Pretenders - Chain Gang) It wasn't as exciting as that I tell ye. 

Walked past Less than Level bar on Kerr.St - a few guys outside for a smoke.

Who goes to bars on a Monday night? I'd love to hear their backstory.
 Or maybe not. 

I'm full up with stories. Sometimes you just don't have any room left when you hear another one. 

That's precisely when you know you need the weekend - when your empathy has run dry. 

I think a 3-day weekend would help make more room - that's probably what those guys were doing at that bar tonight; they were making more room. 

Day 10

Good sunday morning sunshine. 

Minus 20 but when you turned your face to the sun you could feel its radiance on your cheeks.
Walking everyday fills me up with the simplicity of sensation. Perhaps this will dampen my enthusiasm for jalepeno chips and hyper-analysis.

I love how the puzzle-like pieces of ice roll with the harbour underneath.

We always joke about Bob's cold-defensive hunch-back posture from October to April.

After this pic he of course fake-slips on the ice and fake-falls into the lake for my viewing pleasure.

Day 9

Walking at night on a workday is the perfect ending to my day.
I start walking, open to the elements and what is around me, but thinking about the day past and letting my thoughts yammer away. But soon my monkey brain lets go and my body and soul open up to the night and all that it gives me. 

I have realized that walking at night affords me a certain kind of anonymity - a cover of darkness that I can escape into. It's my therapy.

Walking during the day is more utilitarian - walking about doing errands - and social - saying hello, stopping to chat, waving at people driving down the street.
You have to be willing to be seen and to see lots of people.
I enjoy that, especially on the weekends.
But being in front of 40 plus students during the day plus everyone else a day brings -
I need to walk solo for a bit.

Walking at night cleanses me from everything that accumulated that day.
It brings me back to body and soul, like a re-set to myself again. 

Day 8

Couldn't walk without covering my face.

 I looked up long enough to catch these delightful shadows.

Ying and Yang.

Day 7

When we do things we don't want to do, we can either shut ourselves off to the unwanted experience or we can enter it open to whatever it will bring us. 

We are free to choose either one.

Day 6

I walked my friend home from bookclub and kept walking. ho hum.
Sometimes a walk feels like this...just crunch crunch crunch. But I have to keep walking anyway.
Something will turn up...

ok - not exactly what I meant, but some days are like this. The same old grey suit.
But there is beauty in the continuity - the same man wakes up, shaves and drinks coffee and walks down the stairs and opens up shop. The same old customers and their 3-button suits.
There is a curious beauty in steadfastness.
Boredom means safety, my students tell me.
They are psyched by the levels of boredom they can achieve in Canada.
They are grateful for boredom in ways that I cannot be.
To be bored is to be alive.

Day 5

Beauty everywhere I turn.
Do you see the bits of river lit up down below?
The sky was such silent blue velvet tonight.