 I want to say a word about connection.
Skin touches skin, plug goes into socket, and energy flows. It’s that flow we long for; roots draw water, leaves reach for the sun. And we reach for each other, streaming sparks as your finger tips brush my face. And the current we see only through the wonders of lights and music and this screen. We’d miss it if it were gone. Trees roots transmit wisdom. Tap in. Can you hear? Are your lights on? Can you feel me here drawing circles on your palm? Oh, and that word I wanted to say, I bet you already know. Because we are connected, you and me, our roots entwined. Together, we complete the circuit.
0 Comments
 My body is craving everything. Coffee, comfort food, tender physical skin-to-skin touch, energetic connection. I wonder which one is real. What is available is coffee and I savour the dark brew. Some moments coffee feels spiritual. A warm, softly bitter connection to all that is life-giving — water, sunshine, soil, human hands. The buzz responds to my longing, makes my skin tingle. We tell stories as if they have a beginning, a middle and an end. But there is always something before the beginning and something after the end. Even the Bible starts with "In a beginning," leaving it open for other moments to also claim that space. My story begins before me, before my parents, before even their parents. As Joni Mitchell noted, We are stardust We are billion year old carbon We are golden There are moments when I feel golden and moments when I feel like carbon. Before it is compressed into diamonds. Certainly I don’t feel like anyone’s best friend. The beauty is that although I am alone I am aware that I am connected to everything. And while I have moments of acute loneliness, it’s really only physical and emotional, not spiritual. And I’m never bored, just restless in my sense that I am failing to connect — to others, to my highest self, the dots. I’m not sure how we humans have so spectacularly failed at the one thing God — or Divine or Life Force or however the core of Oneness shows up for you — created that is so quintessentially human. Relationship. By that I mean connection. Moving from tribe to metropolis has created more fracturing, it would seem. There are more of us and more ways to network. But those are so often shallow and tinged by fear and competition. For sure there were problems with tribes. But let’s not get sidetracked onto that path. I am the first to acknowledge that my cravings are largely my own doing. I am so afraid of missteps or ambush or something, that I hide behind a guard. My golden can’t shine through. When it does shine I can feel it and I feel ALIVE! And so I am working on building up my inner strength so I don’t need that guard. It’s slow work, but powerful and enlightening. I suspect I’m not alone, it’s not unique to me. So I share this just to say, if this resonates with you, you are not alone either. And, You Are Golden!   came to the river knowing that the season would be over. Still I brought the picking bucket, just in case. As expected, these bushes are long done. I’d last picked weeks ago, before my birthday. The ducks are here, quietly going about their paddle. Because I have been focussed on the blackberry banks, I hadn’t noticed right away. It’s as if they're ok with my presence as long as I don’t look at them. I can see subtle shifts to attention as soon as I spot them even though I have simply turned my head and have made no sound. It’s as if they sense me looking. I had not anticipated that the bees would still be flying in and out of the flowers. They seem bigger, plumper this late in the season. It’s not actually quiet here, I realize. Airplanes fly overhead, North Road is right there to my left. Despite today being Labour Day there is a lot of traffic going by.  The first day I came down here this year I saw a big, beautiful dragonfly. It’s the only one I’ve seen in all my years of coming here. It felt like a gift and, looking back, a symbol of this moment of shift. Between that moment and this I realized that I had come to the other side of something. I saw it like a vision. I was standing at the base of a hill, the mouth of a small valley. Having been for two years in a different place, a liminal space, I just stood there, listening, smelling, observing. The scent was a curious blend of dry ground and vegetation. Not unfamiliar, yet I had not been exactly here before. Ahead, not a clear path, but a definite way. What is this place? Remembering the lesson of wayfinding (thanks Dan Hines) I turned around to see where I’ve come from. Behind me stretched a broad desert. I recognized it as the place I’ve been for the past two years. Liminal space; time between what is and what is next. And stretching across the desert a row of lotus flowers, a lush path of stepping stones. I thought back to a previous vision I’d had, one of looking out into a barren desert that I needed to cross. Each time I took a step forward a lotus flower would bloom to receive my foot. Lotus are water plants. So this path of watery abundance had walked me across the desert. Here I was now on the other side. With this realization, I knew it was time for me to move forward to a new path, step into a new moment. I have now given notice that I would be leaving the communications work at the Centre for Christian Studies which has also escorted me across the liminal space. After Paul died, I didn’t know what I would be doing. This position has offered me a creative and supportive place. I never imagined leaving after such a short time, but here I am. Despite being sad to say good-bye to this place I love and a great collegial team, it feels right. I will be done here before winter comes.  I hold such gratitude. While it was shitty to watch my husband suffer and die, today life is again full and abundant. Do I experience loneliness? Yes, at times aching and visceral. And I have deepening and accepting friendships. Times of doubt? Absolutely. But not deep doubt. Deep down I trust the moment, trust the Divine, trust even failures, which teach me what things in me need healing and what actually matters. I have learned things that are important to me, and that are important for me to nurture in myself like compassion, kindness, joy.
The way into the hills is obscured. But I step forward sure in the continuing unfolding. Here at the river I’ve lost track of time. I usually only come to this place when the blackberries are ripe for picking. But the fruits of this place are still here for me now. Thanks be to God. The longer I sit quietly, the more I notice. Tiny dragonflies, a bead of water on a blade of grass, my own need to be here. I’m having a hard time leaving, even though I know it’s time to go. Much like the time I’ve spent with CCS, it has nourished me. And I know this place will still be here, just as the connections at CCS won’t be severed, simply shifted. As I gather my things and stand up to leave, amazingly another large dragonfly glides by.   As I step into the river, my body becomes like the water, fluid and languid. The river has changed again. Of course I have too, my edges also worn by the streams of life. I have to find a new way to enter. I suspect people find that with me too. A spot where the currents aren't too deep and swift. A place to ease in, get your footing first. I hadn't been thinking about how it smells here. But realized as soon as I arrived how much it is part of the whole experience. I breath deep, filling my soul with the familiar blend of water and plant loam. In my continued quest to get one good shot of the bees in the flowers I wander over to the bank down aways. And once again God shows me something amazing that I didn't anticipate. Turning my head to look at the flowers I am caught by the spectacular sight of a brilliant dragonfly perched on a stem of grass. Amazing. The blackberry season has only started and I go home with only a taste of what will emerge over the next few weeks. Every season, year after year, this place fills me. Thanks be to God.    I found myself grinning as I stepped out of the doorway of the Old Crow Coffee House into the blustery night. As I walked I looked back over the evening, noting each gratitude. The space. The people gathered. The event. Finn’s friend Andie had organized a clothing swap. A theatrical lighting designer by trade, she is someone who cares deeply about a just world and endeavours to live intentionally to that end. More than clothing, this was a political and community social event. The coffee shop had offered space for the swap in their back room. Andie welcomed everyone with an acknowledgement to the Qayqayt First Nations on whose unceded territory we were gathering. The good-will entrance fee was to be donated to the Coast Protectors and the legal fund for those arrested for standing against the Kinder Morgan pipeline expansion. Andie had collected clothing, and other goods, for months. People were invited to take as much as they wanted, whether they had brought anything to swap or not. All leftover donations would be taken to Big Brothers with a tax receipt to the high school music program. This was a pre-Christmas invitation to get out of the malls, to “shop” thrift, to re-use and recycle. It was both gathering and anti-consumerist activism. I think that all parents must have moments of imagining what they want to offer their children. I imagined a renaissance household, a salon around the dinner table bantering into the night on big ideas, political discourse, humour and life. And Finn on the edges, eagerly listening to good natured argument and eventually joining in. He would get to know musicians, politicians, poets and anarchists. As I walked home I ran through the litany of blessings. My grateful heart gave thanks that in fact my child sits at many tables with artists and activists, people who are engaged, outspoken, funny and creative. But in a glorious twist, these are his friends, people he has exposed me to, not the other way around. The pre-Christmas time of Advent is seen as a time of awaiting the coming hope. This evening spoke to me of hope fulfilled. Blessed be.  |
Kimiko Karpoffmusings of someone spiritual and oddly religious 
Click here to check out Kimiko's Postables
Paul's page includes photographs, stories from friends and fans, kimiko's blog posts and more.Archives
October 2019
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed