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.

Inspiration is slow to arrive this evening; I’ve gotten out of the habit of writing.

I think of blackberries, what a treat! And free for the picking. The prior of Lions Gate Priory and I wandered off for a walk this afternoon. Right there in the neighbourhood, walking and talking, picking berries and eating them, what a treat on a lazy afternoon.

Nearly back to where we started we see some lads in the park rolling around on the ground. Are they hurt? Or are they laughing? It’s hard to tell. We get up closer and see they’re laughing, on and on and then we hear the reason. They had kicked the soccer ball into their own net, scoring a goal for the other side. Just a lot of summer fun, nothing serious, no crowds to boo are cheer.

Recently I was told about a film made in Russia about an impoverished family. The oldest girl, in her early teens, talks directly to the camera. She takes care of the children, the father, everything. “What would you like if you could have anything”. In a sad and lifeless way she says, “To play”.

While on Vancouver Island a woman took me for a tour by car to get a sense of the area around Victoria. I even got to climb about on rocks and stalk birds with my camera. The island is a lovely place at this time of year; I’ll post photographs one of these evenings. My guide told me about her son who is just starting his stint of volunteer work near Lusaka, Zambia. Tut, tut, no emails home for two weeks. He’s working for an organization called Right to Play. Their web site is currently featuring a project on the outskirts of Mozambique’s capital. The children there play in the garbage dump, looking for toys or food. But now a local lad who once played at the dump, Justin, works as a coach for Right to Play and plays football with the kids.

Do you remember ever knowing a cat that hadn’t learnt to play, and how you tried to show it how? There are some children in this world like that, and some adults too. How very sad that is.

I had a good visit to Vancouver Island and learnt many interesting things about the sea, and about Santa Claus!

The giant Pacific octopus lives in the sea between the mainland and the island. An orca is a sea dolphin not a whale. And to take care making cell phone calls on the ferry to the island as it passes through US waters and one would incur US roaming charges.

I also learnt Santa Claus was a Catholic Saint who performed many miracles including saving storm tossed, near drowned sailors. And another legend tells how a terrible famine struck the island (of Myra) and a malicious butcher lured three little children into his house, only to kill and slaughter them and put their remains in a barrel to cure, planning to sell them off as ham. Saint Nicholas, visiting the region to care for the hungry, not only saw through the butcher’s horrific crime but also managed to resurrect the three boys from the barrel.

So there we have it, miracles and mystery for the salty sea. How I love to be out on a boat.