I walked up Solano Avenue this afternoon, it’s familiar territory and close to the Berkeley Priory where I’m staying at the moment. It’s all Starbucks and up-market boutiques now; the thrift store has long gone. The sun was out, sea mist coming and going with a brisk wind blowing dampness off the bay. Solano starts in the City of Albany and ends in the Berkeley Hills. And up there among the houses is something quite remarkable. Indian Rock a rock climbers haven which, it would seem, has links to WW2 history.

But few people know about little Indian Rock, as I call it. Where The Alameda intersects Solano there’s a path threading its way between the houses leading to Indian Rock. Then take the first left off this path and a few houses down on the right there’s a huge rock. Big as a house. The developers just skipped a plot left the rock there and made a neighbourhood park. Few people know about it or use. I sat at roof height to rest awhile and take in the vista.

Gazing out across the bay to distant San Francisco with the Golden Gate Bridge swathed in sea fog and Alcatraz looming out of the grey is to be transported. It’s almost to fly, or at the very least to have some moments of high-up, wind-blown, airy repose.

Close to the top of Solano is Pegasus; a bookstore selling new and second hand books. I strolled through, more a pilgrim than paying customer. Ah Pegasus, the flying horse of the Muses a symbol of high-flying imagination.

It’s good to spend time with my monastic family and also to check-in here too, when I can. Like sending a postcard, with wings, not knowing where it will land or who will read it.

Today would not have been my first choice for taking to the sky’s but that’s what I did. The flight from Vancouver to San Francisco was just over two hours and given the recent events in England passengers were asked to check-in three hours before the flight. The security was not hyper vigilant however I got the feeling there was a lot of unobtrusive ‘watching’ going on.

All the same one could have been forgiven for anxiety levels to be somewhat higher the day after a major ‘bust’. So I was delighted to find an article in the Alaska Airlines Magazine on the Giant Pacific Octopus by Brandon Cole. His close up photograph of the critters disc-shaped suckers as well as a number of other stunning close-ups had me transfixed, and distracted, for most of the flight south.

Sometimes it is skillful, and compassionate, to distract ones mind. To direct ones attention purposefully to something other than what’s occupying it. Or in my case for the last 24 hours, pre occupying it.

Here’s some script from the article for your interest and amazement.
“The arms of the Giant Pacific Octopus are lined with up to 1,600 disc-shaped suckers. They work together to grip with Herculean strength or manipulate with wondrous finesse. The suckers are wired into the creature’s advanced sensory system and are used to ‘taste” objects and creatures it encounters.” and latter in the article… “Enteroctopus Dofleini is the world’s largest octopus species–examples weighing more than 200 pounds with an arm span of more than 20 feet have been recorded in the cool, nutrient-rich waters of the Pacific Northwest.” The author goes on to say, “I’ve had them hop onto my head, ride piggyback on my air tank and play tug-of-war with my camera.”

As coincidence would have it Victor, who took the photo of the bridge at Lytton, has spent quite a bit of time down in the depths swimming around with the long armed ones between Vancouver Island and the mainland.

I’d like to think I will be able to continue to post regularly however these past couple of weeks have shown me that I’m most likely going to be sporadic for awhile. Thanks for continuing to visit. Do take a look at the photos to be found by following the link.

I should have known better. My hosts in Vancouver are ex prairie people, one family of firm German stock moved north from Saskatchewan to Fort St. John, to farm. We talked growing up on a farm talk this evening. Day old chicks, making ends meet, trying pig farming, horses, bridles and bits. And the country. We looked at photographs; weddings and puffy hair, smiles and memories. It all made so much sense, she said, reading about a Mennonite boyhood in the Boreal forest of Saskatchewan. Great book by Rudy Wiebe, ‘of this earth’, published this year. Uh! I should have know better, but I knew what I was doing. Opened up the book and an hour latter it’s nearly midnight.

Just writing that was refreshing.

But that wasn’t what I’d intended. It was the sound of the train whistle calling up the valley this morning that’s been with me most of the day. That haunting sound, the echoes bouncing and fading. Evocative.

All that arises, passes.

People have been asking after me. “Are you getting some rest”? “I expect you are glad to be away from responsibilities in Edmonton, so you can get some rest”. You must be feeling rested now…”. Purposefully resting, “now I will go and rest” is not something I tend to do. I told one of the monks recently that when I can’t keep my eyes open any longer I lay down and go to sleep. That’s as close to purposefully resting as I get. However I’m one of those fortunate people who can fall sleep, at any time. I remember being on a hike with my dad in Scotland. We sat down on a pebble beach beside a river to have lunch and afterwards we both fell fast asleeeeep in the sun. It must be a family trait. These days though when it comes to sleeping at night before midnight, I remain wide awake.

Last night, partly in response to all those messages about getting rested, I decided to turn in early at 10.30 ish relinquishing the wish to write a blog entry. As midnight came and went and unconsciousness eluded me I wished I’d written instead. But this sleep pattern will have to change as monastic schedules set rising before 5.00 in the summer months and I’ll be at Shasta Abbey in a couple of weeks.

I’ll get in a bit of early-to-bed-early-to-rise practice this week-end as the community at Lions Gate Priory will be packing up and driving out to the retreat land near Lytton. We stay until Monday, a holiday in Canada. No late night blogging for me for a few days.

On the subject of resting? For me, the deepest rest is to simply sit, and I’m able to find more time for that at the moment. Thank you for your well wishes and kind concerns.

And Edmonton, Alberta, people, dogs, big skies, thunder, lightening, peeling paint, sunshine, hot cars. Like Singapore, you got under my skin and haven’t left.