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.



  

Yesterday was a lake/hike/swim/hike/swim day. Formerly Beautiful Lake, Buntzen Lake near Vancouver is a great area for outdoor recreation. And it’s a marvel of early engineering to provide hydro power for Vancouver. The project was started in 1903 and continues to-day.

The project involved raising the level of the dam on Coquitlam Lake and excavating a 3.6 km tunnel to carry water from Coquitlam Lake to Buntzen Lake. The tunnel runs under Eagle Mountain, reaching a maximum depth of 1.2 km below the surface, and empties into the north end of Buntzen Lake.

With talk of tunnels I was reminded of Beyond the Pale of Vengeance.

“This novel is a compelling story of a Buddhist monk who undertakes a seemingly impossible task in order to fulfill his spiritual purpose to help those he had previously harmed. It shows how, in the process of converting his karma, he also transforms the lives of others. It is based on a true story from 18th century Japan.” A story of personal ‘revolution’ and how one persons act can change the lives of others, as well as their own.

Phew! One minute to go before leaving for the ferry to Vancouver Island. Such kind and compassionate hosts. Thank you, I’ll be back.

Never before have I checked in at an airport with a basket. A basket containing, essentially, a picnic! What ever was I thinking? But climbing up above the clouds, seeing the North Saskatchewan River snaking it’s way through the city, the sun glinting off the water, I was glad to be eating the picnic. Like in the olden days.

An aunt, now no longer with us, would tell of her early aviation adventures. “Yes my dear, we would dangle our legs, open up the picnic basket and have lunch”, “the wind blowing one’s dress you know…” “So VERY exciting”! “Yes, of COURSE, everything open-air”. That must have been the 1920’s. Later she was companion to the British Ambassador’s wife in Peking. “Yes. I did learn Mandarin, one should you know”. And “This very nice Taoist monk taught me to meditate, in the bazaar.”

Everybody would benefit from early exposure to an adventurous, unconventional aunt and I had two.

As a young monk, visiting my parents, the same aunt called me to her room. “Now my dear, I’d like you to teach me to meditate”. The story of the Taoist monk came out during this interview. I did my best to instruct her and afterwards, to my amazement, she pulled out a five-pound note and gave it to me. This recognition from my bold and unconventional aunt, her act of gratitude, meant a lot. Later we had crumpets with far too much butter!

Let us remember those adults who came into our early lives and whose stories allowed for, showed the possibility of, a personal revolution.

Revolution: A drastic and far-reaching change in ways of thinking and behaving.

Landed in Vancouver OK, basket in hand!