The View From Here

The View From Here

Saturday, October 29, 2016

Sleepwalking

Sleepwalking
         invisible, unseen,
silent and unheard

Heart aching,
    hands trembling
       eyes misted; one blink will betray me
choking on words I cannot speak, will not confess,
for admission lifts them from the shadows
         gives them flesh
 
Keeping to the shadows
       I creep into your courts;
Music is a balm to a weary soul
        the pain, the fear, the doubt
           the emptiness
                melts away,
Shadows dissolve in light

Bread and wine; a banquet,
            satiates
The torpor begins to dissipate;
Your touch, your voice soothe a troubled heart.....

Peace is fleeting
           Around me the teeming crowds flows
          Vague smiles never reach eyes
I remain invisible, unseen, silent, and unheard

But the shadows have faded,

the memory of your hand is still warm on my back.

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Feast With Me

This past Sunday the sermon was about the familiar 23 Psalm.  It is beautiful in its simplicity, and in the depths and layers of meaning it holds.   Several years ago I wrote about it myself,   I cannot begin to count the number of messages I have heard, or read, on these few familiar verses.  And every time there is something new to learn.  

When I wrote on it in 2011 it was the word "through" ("Through the valley...") I was focused on.
My mom had just begun cancer treatment again and we were all terrified.  We still are, but here it is 5 years later, and she's still fighting.  It may not yet be the miracle we're hoping for, but it is a miracle nonetheless.
But lately, for the past several weeks, actually, I have this picture in my mind of a great, long table, covered with a rich, snowy white cloth, shimmering Irish linen.  The table sits in the middle of a field of emerald green grass, waving in the summer breeze.  The sky overhead is cloudless and blue.  Sometimes the table is bare, waiting to be set, but I know there is fine china, heavy silver, delicate crystal to be laid in preparation.  Other times the glass ware and silver gleams in the sun and the array of dishes boggles the mind.  It is a banquet beyond comparison, beyond description.

We don't throw dinner parties like that any more. And it's a shame.  Setting a beautiful table, serving carefully prepared dishes....what a wonderful way to honour  our guests, be they family or friends.  And what a reminder of the Wedding Supper we are all anticipating, such beauty and bounty beyond imagination.  
This particular poem may seem rather unrelated to the feast I am describing.  In fact I wrote it as something of a challenge.  And yet as I wrote it I could still see that table stretching out under the summer sun.  


Under a canopy of velvet blue and satin green
On a fragrant cushions
Serenaded by redwing blackbirds, meadowlarks and dragonflies
Kisses light as summer breezes
Let me serve you exotic nectar
from my own cup,
drink rich wine from yours
Feast on thews
The sustenance of passion
I am faint with hunger
Feed me with honeyed words
Lush fruits,
Bounty of plowing and planting
Bread and wine

And after the feast
simplest pleasures,
sweetest fare
and richest
Drift to dreams
Under a canopy of velvet blue and dappled green
on fragrant cushions
Serenaded by blackbirds, meadowlarks and honeybees
caressed by summer's breeze






http://viewfromhere68.blogspot.ca/2011/06/i-walk-through-valley.html





Sunday, February 7, 2016

Tag....You're it!


Tag! You're It!
          And we flee shrieking with laughter
tumbling carefree
                   over knolls, through the trees

Underducking the swings
            dashing high into the cloud dazzled summer sky
caroming down the scorching slide
               up and down again the see saw

breathless we collapsed in the shade of the solid classroom wall,
bouncing balls, hula hoops, jump ropes,
Red Rover, Red Rover, Duck, Duck, Goose
Endless childhood, rivalries renegotiated every recess
innocent and fierce.

Tag, you're it....
           and we flee, sighing with passion
stumbling careless
               over tussocks, through the a shady grove

Following a merry dance
                    whirling under a star strewn sky
whispering secrets to the silent virgin moon
                      spinning, dizzy and still so sure

I don't dare stop,
     if I stop I'll fall,
                       and falling hurts...
Can't you see the scars on my heart?
The skinned knees of my soul?

“Catch me if you can....”
dashing away again

you open your arms to me
wide and welcoming
waiting for me to catch you.












Saturday, January 2, 2016

The Empty Pantry



Yet another year has come and gone, and its trials and triumphs are now largely memories.  The dawn of a new year brings reflection, and an inherent time to pause.  We set our house back to "normal" today, packing up all the Christmas decorations, setting them aside for another 11 months.  The house feels airier, freer; but maybe we just have regained some space; and having packed away those festive trimmings, and properly cleaned the house for last night's dinner guests this is simply underlined.

New Year's Eve Emily and I went to a house party to ring in the new year with friends.  It was the first year she was actually able to stay up and see the proverbial ball drop.  Truthfully it's the first time in years I have done it too.  Most years I opt for a glass of wine on the couch with the comedy specials or a movie and call it a night well before midnight.  In any case we had fun.
That night, or in the wee hours of New Year's Day, more accurately I had an odd dream.  Odd not just in subject matter, but in that it was recurring.  Most dreams, once you wake, dissolve into the mist never to be seen again,apart from perhaps your ability to recall them.  This one seemed to pick up like a paused movie each time I woke and then returned to sleep.
In the dream I had returned home from this party, and in walking into the house saw my deep freeze standing open, and utterly empty.  I was annoyed and perplexed, but not overly concerned (as one might be to discover several hundred dollars of food vanished.  I woke, briefly, thought the dream odd, and rolled over, back to sleep.
Again I dreamed.  This time the refrigerator was also discovered to be empty.  My reaction was the same.  A third return to dreaming and now the thawing roast on the kitchen counter, a sizable piece of meat, was also missing, as was, I soon noticed, my computer.  This time I was perturbed, but still not upset, and I called the police who asked me for a list & valuation of my absent foodstuffs. (No other material things were absent, just the computer).  As I began to try to figure out the value of all the meat & prepared meals in my deep freeze I finally woke up.
I lay nestled warm in my bed, pondering this dream, since I rarely recall them on waking, unless there is some purpose to the dream.  Nothing came to mind, and I was still not concerned about the lacking foodstuffs, which I briefly considered to be a sign of coming privation.  I have read articles lately warning of increasing grocery prices in the coming year.  But this did not resonate as making sense.
I let it alone and moved forward with my day; largely spent preparing a feast to share with dear friends.
Over dinner I did tell my friends of my dream, sometimes someone else can see an interpretation where I cannot.  We discussed their plans for the coming year, exciting changes I think; and my own hopes and plans, and the sustaining grace that saw me through the past year of unemployment without want or doubt that good things were to come.  God did bring me through, to a job that suits me, uses my gifts & satisfies my needs.  Although it was difficult & at times stressful, there was much grace and never any real want.

At the end of the evening I tucked Emily in & had a short chat with Peter before turning out the lights and seeking my bed again, pleased with a delightful evening with friends, tired and making to-do lists for the following day.  As I lay there mulling over the past few days and the coming ones as well it occurred to me what my dream might mean.  I strongly considered messaging my friend with these thoughts, mostly so I wouldn't lose them, but I couldn't find the energy.  And, if there was merit to them they would remain til morning.
I remembered, belatedly the dream decision to call the authorities, and the subsequent request for an enumeration of the losses.  In that moment I felt strongly that all the losses I have endured over the past several years have indeed been enumerated, and noted, and that those losses will be replaced or restored.  
When I woke up in this morning I knew I had heard the answer most distinctly, but was kicking myself for not writing it down....it had vanished with the sandman.  But very quickly I began to see it again, along with further meaning.  What I became aware of this morning was a very keen sense that the old has been cleared away to make room for new abundance.  As I began to share these thoughts with my friend the knowledge that my losses have been cataloged too returned to me.

2016 will be a year of great abundance, despite the state of the economy (there is more to abundance than mere money, after all), a year of hope and promise.  Happy New Year!




Friday, November 6, 2015

Stones

I've neglected this for a long while now.  I could offer a thousand excuses, but they are just that, excuses.  They would all be true, but excuses nonetheless.  I created a new blog to post Emily's cooking lessons on (http://emilycooks1015.blogspot.ca/) and it seems lately that is about all I have written.  And even those posts have been a struggle.
I confess I battled a lot of fear and doubt, and I was afraid to give them any acknowledgement at all lest even speaking their names would give them power.  At long last though I found employment again (you'd think being unemployed I would have had written all the more with all that free time, but no, not I) I have been so blessed to have good friends to stand by me through the storms life sometimes leads us through, friends who reminded me when I wondered if perhaps I was being an ostrich with my head in the sand, that there was much grace on me and on my situation.  I knew the axe was going to fall, but I knew too there was a better job, better suited to my needs and my gifts.  I had faith God would sustain me through it, and provide abundantly.  And provide he did.
I took a temporary job with Elections Canada in the weeks leading up to the election in October.  I met some lovely people and remembered the rhythm of working.  It provided an opportunity to test Emily on coming home from school to an empty house, a milestone for us both.  And as that job drew to a close I had an interview that led to a job offer I know will be a great fit.  In any case my prayers have been answered.  A good job with variety to the days, hours that will suit Emily and me well.  I am excited and hopeful.
In the midst of these past couple of weeks I have been remembering a pair of small stones I used to keep in my pocket years ago, stones I picked up somewhere on the west coast on a lonely, frustrated walk I took while visiting my ex-husband's parents.  I think I still have them, tucked away in my jewelry box. Of course this remembrance was borne from some other thought in my head....I don't even recall it any more, my thoughts tend to wander and drift and weave themselves together in odd ways.  Thoughts about the journey I have found myself on this past year, and the roads I would like to take, no doubt lines or phrases from sermons or songs.  I've been asked before about my creative process, and it is not something I can answer easily, or concisely.  And all that leads me to offer you, gentle, patient reader, this:

I have walked dusty
rutted
gravel roads

Have strode
ankle deep through
warm, black
sifting
summer-fallow

Have stood upon
windswept, timeworn
mountain peaks

In my pockets
have held
smooth,oddly lovely
riverstones
set fieldstones on fence posts

Under my tongue
one small
smooth
stone
brings water to a parched soul

Like people in glass houses
not sinless
I have learned
to hold those stones
knowing too well
the hurt

But those same stones
have power to heal -
to build monuments
to honour
to defend and secure


And though sand sifts
restless
my feet are fixed
firm
on bedrock
pocketed riverstones
like gems
keep me steady
keep me sure.



Thursday, August 27, 2015

Mother

It is almost midnight and I find I cannot sleep.  This is becoming an all to regular occurrence of late.  Usually I toss & turn & listen to the radio, eventually lulled to sleep.  Tonight I thought I'd try a different tack.  I've been trying to write the following poem for a couple of months now, and after many false starts and much stalling I think, maybe, I almost have it. (Are there writers out there who are ever fully satisfied with the work they produce?  Is it ever well and truly finished?  Or do you just have to call it good and move on to the next project?)
In any case, tomorrow we are heading to my home town to celebrate my mother's 70th birthday.  These last few have been difficult years, but we are all still here, still standing, still moving forward.  It is my prayer we will celebrate many more birthdays together.  Happy Birthday, Mom, I love you.
Thank you for everything you are & for everything you have done for me.

There is a picture
tucked away in a dusty album
fading with the years
my mother and me...

There is love implicit in the photograph

Smiling, she leans in toward me
a story book on my knees
a halo of babycurls and footie pajamas

I am on her knee...
she is looking at me, her hand on my shoulder
but my gaze is drawn somewhere else

There is love implicit in the photograph
and though memory had me perched on her knee
as though eager to go

Too soon I think I bounded from her embrace
eager for whatever held my gaze even then.
Life and living; newer more enticing loves

it is not so
Her hands shield me though her arms do not hold me back

And yet
though you cannot see them
then or now
there are cords that bind my heart to hers,
the first love I ever knew,
and for all my pulling away they hold us close

I wish, more often now than ever,
I could take my story book
and, fresh from my bath in pyjamas,
clamber into her lap

Or, as time slowly turns the tables
take her in my embrace and hold her close

There is love implicit in the photograph
and though memory had me perched on her knee
as though eager to go
it is not so
Her hands shield me though her arms do not hold me back
Her lap cradles me
Her eyes watch me
Her love surrounds me



Cooking with Emily: Ginger Beef Sti-Fry

We are slowly moving toward back to school and the steady routine of school days.  I think we are both longing for the return to normalcy, whatever normal looks like, and yet will miss these long lazy days too.  Monday night was girl's night out with one of my circles of girlfriends, so Emily's cooking night was pushed back a couple of days.  I decided to let her stay home alone while I went out, since our evening out was only going to be a few blocks away.  It  was a test of sorts, since she has been asking me for over a year if she could come home alone after school.  She called at the times I requested, had her chores done and had showered & combed her hair.  I was pleased, and needless to say she passed the test.
We decided Wednesday was the only day this week she had to make dinner, and Tuesday afternoon she asked if I had a recipe for Ginger Beef, one of her favourite dishes at the Chinese buffet.  I told her it wouldn't be like the restaurant version and pointed her toward a couple of recipes i had in a folder full of recipes I wanted to try.  She chose one, and a quick scan confirmed it was something she could handle.
Emily spent Wednesday afternoon at the pool, and by quarter to five I was debating starting supper myself.  She did get home shortly after that, and while she changed I sliced a couple of small sirloin tip steaks into strips and sliced a couple of carrots for her.  She insisted I leave the kitchen then, and so I retreated.
She coated the strips of steak in a batter of cornstarch and water before placing them in hot oil.  Before long I was called to the rescue, the spattering oil had her hesitating.  I can't blame her, cooking with oil that spits and spatters isn't much fun.  I helped her brown the meat and set it aside while she sauteed the carrots, made her sauce and started a pot of rice.  Once the sauce of broth, soy sauce, ginger and orange peel was poured over the carrots she returned the steak to the pan.  The sauce thickened quickly so I advised her to shut it off while the rice finished cooking.  Emily had tasted a piece of meat while the carrots were cooking and was not impressed with the flavour, although there were no seasonings on it apart from a little salt in the batter.  As a whole though dinner was very tasty, although I suspect she mismeasured the water for the rice as it was slightly under cooked.  The sauce could have used a touch more ginger as it lacked a certain kick as well.  Then again we used chicken stock instead of beef, as there was a carton open in the refrigerator.  Beef broth may have had more body.  A pinch of red pepper flakes may have helped a little too.


Ginger Beef Stir-Fry

3 Tablespoons corn starch, divided               3/4 cup thinly sliced carrots
2 tablespoons water                                       3/4 cup beef broth
1/4 teaspoon salt                                            2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 1/2 lbs top sirloin steak, thinly sliced in 3' strips
2 teaspoons orange peel                                 1 teaspoon ground ginger


In a large bowl combine 2 tablespoons cornstarch with water & salt until smooth.  Add beef, toss to coat.
In a large skillet stir fry beef in small batches in 1 tablespoon vegetable oil until meat reaches desired doneness; remove and keep warm.
Stir fry carrots in another tablespoon of oil for 5-6 minutes.  Place remaining cornstarch in a bowl, stir in broth until smooth.  Add ginger, soy sauce and orange peel.  Return beef to skillet, stir in broth mixture.  Bring to a boil.  Cook and stir 2 minutes, until thickened.  Serve over rice, egg noodles or mashed potatoes.