It all begins again
"Mornings are my favorite time of the day.
They don’t start quickly because it seems to take a bit of time for the several million cells in my body to get in sync and wake up.
I used to sit on the edge of the bed in a semi-stupor for five minutes, as if waiting for the preconcert tuning of a large orchestra completing the tonal check of each player’s instrument – you know, the confused sound somewhere between the scratching of fingernails on a blackboard and a band of cars honking their horns on a busy street – dissonant… irritating.
But then, the conductor raises the baton…a momentary calm follows and suddenly emerges the sound of music where the individual gives way to the coordinated impulse of single purpose…the many parts forgotten as focus and resolve become a singular, living thing...."
Writing a weekly blog for the past several years has provided the basis for the 'life' book series.
Click the link below for the current entry
A secret place
"The clouds were white and billowy – shape shifters really.
As they drifted across the azure blue sky, they became whatever his mind created. At first the humped back of a camel slowly emerged and just as slowly transfigured into an elephant’s head, a trunk forming and pushing out like the end of a fire hose. The trunk became the arm of a pitcher just beginning to throw a ball.
They were just clouds to anyone else, but to a young boy with some time to kill and a vivid imagination, they were as exotic as his mind could create. That’s the thing about a mind cleared, devoid of thought…it gives permission to one’s imagination to slip into the ‘driver’s seat.’
Creative beauty, is in the eye of the beholder? Yes indeed.
As he lay on the dock a few inches above the surface of the water, he closed his eyes and listened to an ancient rhythm…water slapping against the edges of the wooden platform jutting out into the lake – the sun of those August days in the Muskoka District of Central Ontario, warming his skin…comforting his heart...."
Sometimes you just have to walk away
"It’s hard to know how the day is going to start. Yet as long as we have breath, each morning begins as it does for every living creature on the planet. Sometimes those days are predictable, but mostly they are not. This day things went badly…and went badly quickly.
The lioness escaped the sudden events that swiftly unfolded…her cub did not. In the aftermath, she looked around and following a whimpering sound located her young offspring. The cub was not dead, but had been trampled by a herd of antelope or water buffalo or some other migrating pack that had been frightened by something unknown.
She came nuzzling and nudging the cub to move, but its lower back was broken – it could not. She picked it up in her mouth and carried it for a while. Whether it was the weight or fatigue or a combination…she put the cub down and slowly walked on. For a short period, it dragged itself along by its two front legs trying to keep up with its mother. She walked slowly allowing it to keep a distance of about ten feet between them. Then she stopped and sat…the cub paused, staring intently at her from behind...."