reflections 1

 

Reflections

 (and random art)

 

The Church Singers

 

'Tales from the Ballet,' illustrated by Alice and Martin Provensen (1968)

 

The church is filling up with voices.  Soaring, keening songs, the result of a hundred worshippers joined together to celebrate God. Congregants born and raised somewhere far away, singing a language I don't understand. They've come from points unknown, and yet here they all are, situated in the middle of a western Canadian city.

 

 The performance is beautiful, rough and urgent. It's raw and honest, unrehearsed and to the point. I hear true longing in some of the more strident voices.  I wish I knew what they were saying, what song they were singing. My curiosity is strong, but it feels enough to stand as a witness to the music within.

 

Some of the singers are off key, and many more are only slightly flat. Someone falters repeatedly on the high notes.  It's powerful and honest, though, and whatever lack of musicality is replaced by conviction made audible.  There is hope in their voices. There's a belief, and it's the ultimate relief in having a God that cares about you.  

 

I don't go into the church to watch, but I walk slowly along the building's exterior. The song comes through the open windows. This isn't a wealthy church with stained glass and a brick exterior; the windows are plain, painted beige. It's a sparse little building, unimposing and without decoration. No decoration save for the voices, lifting through the air like sparrows taking flight into the sunlight.  

 

I walk past, and the sounds fade. I am left with the background noise of the city and an inward smile.  

 

*

 

Tim Horton's Special

Katerina Plotnikova

I noticed him last year.  An old man, windswept and worn out looking. He'd stand on the sidewalk,  his gnarled frame in a torn up and light jacket.  He'd stand there and pass out papers, asking a purchase price of $1. The paper was written by homeless men and women, and could be sold to make profit for those living on the street. The articles were always sparse, and the man's papers were always wildly out of date. He didn't seem to notice, and I never cared. The $1 wasn't to read breaking news.  

 

He was always friendly, if a little unwashed and unshaved. I saw him several days a week, often two or three times a day. He'd stand on his chosen corner and sell out of date newspapers, sometimes asking for a warm coffee. The man had a nice smile. He didn't seem to expect much, and never seemed to mind the fact that very few people ever bought his papers.

 

I bought him coffee and donuts once.  He was appreciative without acting overdone. He nodded in my general direction and gave a quiet thanks.  I left him there, as he was sipping on his coffee and holding his bag of donuts.

 

As I walked away from him, I felt good. The winter was cold, and standing around a street corner had to be boring. It was the least I could do, to acknowledge the humanity in him. I decided to buy him coffee again, and a sandwich if he wanted. Next time I'd offer.

 

But every time I went to look for him after that, he was gone.  I never saw him again.



the Beloved sometimes wants to do us a great favor: Hold us upside down and shake all the nonsense out.

Rene Garau.

Tired of Speaking Sweetly

Hafez, translated by Daniel Ladinsky from 'The Gift'

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,

Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and

Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,

He would just drag you around the room

By your hair,

Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world

That bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly

And wants to rip to shreds

All your erroneous notions of truth

That make you fight within yourself, dear one,

And with others,

Causing the world to weep

On too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,

Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself

And practice His dropkick.

The Beloved sometimes wants

To do us a great favor:

Hold us upside down

And shake all the nonsense out.

But when we hear

He is in such a "playful drunken mood"

Most everyone I know

Quickly packs their bags and hightails it

Out of town.

 

 

 

 

Jurassic Forest, Gibbons, Alberta

 

 



  As a lifelong fan of dinosaurs, I try to attend anything related to prehistory's ill-fated 'terrible lizards'.  I've been to a lot of dinosaur related museum exhibits as well as educational theme parks.  It's just kind of my thing.  After all, what's not to love about nature's version of Godzilla?

 Which explains why I found myself at a dinosaur theme park in a mosquito ridden forest in the middle of Nowhere, Alberta last weekend.  I'd heard about Jurassic Forest from various websites, and after realizing that I'd be in the area, I knew I had to visit.  There were promises of life sized models of dinosaurs, which were hooked up to motion sensors.  Reviews of the park promised dinosaurs that growled, roared and moved. Naturally, I was hooked.

 Upon arriving, I found that the park itself was beautifully landscaped, with a wooden walkway that meandered through a lovely landscape of local trees, grasses and flowers.  There were informational signs on the local flora and fauna, as well as the expected dinosaur related fare.  The setting was lovely, covering a variety of environments, ranging from marshes to forests.  Although the park is small, it manages to cover a lot of ground without feeling overwhelming or exhausting.  There were plenty of benches to sit on and rest, although the amount of mosquitos that were out were deterrent enough to prevent me from wanting to sit and bask in the sun longer than necessary. Bonus points for the tan I got while walking around, because Lord knows, my pale self could use a little sun.

The stars of the show were the dinosaurs.  I was giddy as a schoolgirl talking to her first grade school crush after I stumbled across T-Rex in one of the exhibits.  Dude was huge, and certainly made some impressive roaring sounds.  I was so excited I clapped my hands and literally did a little jig, because after all, it's not every day you get to come across a T-Rex. 

 The placement of the dinosaurs felt (mostly) natural, and it was easy to suspend belief and pretend you were at some kind of Jurassic Park-esque place in which dinosaurs still roamed the earth.  It was educational without being boring, and had a dose of campiness which I appreciate. I didn't even mind the fact that I was clearly one of the few guests over the age of five, since most of the visitors were tagging along with parents.  I took it as a good sign that even the parents look engaged and generally interested.

 My only complaint is that a few of the motion sensors didn't work, rendering mime like dinosaurs that remained mute and disappointingly still.  Luckily, the malfunctioning dinosaurs were all the boring, plant eating ones anyway -- if T-Rex had not been working, I would have been a sad panda.

  Here are photos and videos of my trip to Jurassic Forest. My videos are unlisted, so please do not link to them on other blogs or websites.  As always, please don't use my photos or link to them.

 

Pictorial: Sasha, (almost) 7 Months

My gorgeous, wonderful and insane kitten. This cat packs a lot of personality in to a tiny body.

Streeeeeeeetch! She likes her kitty condo to nap on, but much prefers my bed or sitting on my laptop.

She's grown quite a bit in the past two months. She was so little! Aw!
 

 

 

Trans-Canada Roadtrip '13: Pics Part 3 (Ontario)

Considering I spent 14 hours a day in a car, it seems appropriate that most of my photos were taken from, well ... inside of a car.

Fort Mckay at Fort William First Nation, near Thunder Bay, Ontario.
 

The view from Mount McKay on Fort William First Nation. The reserve is located just outside of Thunder Bay. Mount McKay is sacred to the local band.
 

Thunder Bay, Ontario.
 

A terrible photo of a beautiful waterfall.
 

The view along this stretch of road is beautiful. One of the most scenic parts of the Trans Canada highway.

 

The roads are dangerous, but fun. They twist, and like to taunt you with their blind curves and near-constant construction work, leaving entire sections of the highway in rubble. As an added bonus, there's the sport of Motorized Dodge Ball, required of all drivers across the northwestern Ontario Region. The basic premise of the game is this: you drive, and wild animals will try to hurl themselves at your car. You dodge, lest they hit. A lot like that elementary school game we all used to play, no? This particular stretch of road was responsible for a fatal moose crash which shut down the highway for an entire afternoon. (And yup, it's another photo of the Trans-Canada.)

 

I'm an Eastern girl, born and raised. After living in a different time zone for the past few years, it's always a monumental occasion to cross over into the time zone I associate with home, the East Coast. I felt like this sign did a noble job at marking the occasion.

Trans-Canada Roadtrip '13: Pics Part 2 (Manitoba)

This is what 99.9% of Manitoba looks like as you drive along the Trans-Canada Highway.

Inside Lower Fort Gary.

Plain Tipi at Lower Fort Gary.

Interior Decorating at Lower Fort Gary.

More of Lower Fort Gary, outside of Winnipeg. Kind of a big deal in Canadian history.

Those costumes must be hot in the summer.

 

Winnipeg skyline from a distance. Look at all those trees!

 

Trans-Canada Road Trip '13: Pics Part 1 (Saskatchewan)

Saskatchewan, Summer 2013


Remember this post? Last summer, my fiancé and I drove across most of Canada in the short span of 2 weeks.  It was an intense trip of 14 hour days spent locked in a car, consuming vast quantities of fast food, and staring at endless and unyielding prairie.  We drove from Edmonton, Alberta to Ottawa, Ontario, a distance of approximately 4,6000 miles, or 7,402 kilometers.  While I would not recommend such a speedy trip in the future, it was certainly a hell of an introduction to the middle portion of Canada, which, for the record, is the biggest portion of Canada.

I recount my run-ins with exploding bears, Lake Superior Provincial Park, bannock burgers, and crappy Toronto drivers in this post over here.

Almost a year later, here are some less-than-inspiring photos from that trip. Formatting is screwy because BLOGGER.COM IS INCAPABLE OF HANDLING PHOTOS AND KEEPING THEM FORMATTED AS THEY GET UPLOADED. Or else I'm an idiot.  
 

Rural Ukrainian Church

 



Prairie train, the kind that makes you wait, and wait, and wait ...



... and wait. Yes, those cars stretch all the way to the horizon.
 

Pretty church window at Batoche, site of the famous Metis rebellion.

Pictorial: Sasha, (almost) 5 Months

I'm engaged!

Well, it certainly has been a while! And, in my long absence, I have some big news ... I'm ENGAGED! Ahhh! I know, right? Some guy actually voluntarily decided he wants to marry me and spend the rest of his life with me!

My ring. Ignore my gross hands.



The engagement itself was a quiet affair with no bells or whistles, which is exactly the way I wanted it.  I know lots of girls want marching bands and 'WILL YOU MARRY ME?' spelled out with 100 long stemmed red roses, but I'm more of a laid back, practical kind of girl.  That kind of attention would mortify me.  Much to my pleasure, my fiancé (and wow, it never gets old saying that ... fiancé! Fiancé! Fiancé!) had the sense to propose to me in my apartment, in the company of myself and my cat. Extra credit to him for actually getting down on one knee and tearing up while popping the question.

Because my partner is Cree, he also presented me with a beautiful Pendleton blanket.  Among some bands of Cree Nation, it is traditional for a prospective bride to go 'hide' from her groom to be.  The young man must find his future bride, and when he does, he presents her with a blanket.  In light of this tradition, my fiancé (there's that word again!) decided to wrap me in a blanket as part of the engagement.  I absolutely loved that he chose to include an element from Cree culture, a tradition that I love and respect and cannot wait to learn more about.

My Pendleton Friendship Blanket, presented as part of my engagement.

After a flurry of texting and phone calls (ah, engagement in the modern age), my hubby-to-be and I went out for a delicious meal.  Being the carnivore that I am, I had bacon wrapped steak, and it was freaking delicious.  Our server was nice enough to grace us with a complimentary desert after hearing about our newly engaged status, which I thought was a cute gesture.

That says 'Congratulations!' The chocolate message lasted all of 30 seconds before I ate it off the plate.

And so, here I am, officially an engaged woman.  Now I have to start planning a wedding and figuring out ways to incorporate Cree traditions with my own, as well as placating our friends and family who are from both Canada and the US.

Oh! And since it's always the first question asked: my ring is amethyst and white gold. After much discussion and thought, I specifically decided upon forgoing upon diamonds for an engagement ring.  They're beautiful, but they're also expensive.  I also don't like the fact that diamonds are destructive socially and ecologically.  Purple is my favorite color, and an amethyst seemed like a sensible alternative.  I'm very happy with the decision -- it's something different, and much more 'me' than a diamond.  I am in love with the stone, and the band is delicate and understated, which is exactly my kind of style.  Good work to the future hubs! For a man who always calls me to ask what cat food to buy, he did a great job picking out a ring.