Awake My Soul

Weymouth, Nova Scotia  2017

When I cycle, I feel liberated.
From my sometimes burdensome thoughts.
From my seemingly exaggerated hope.
From my duties to others.
From the chokehold of worry.
From suffocation.

Awakened only to the limitations of my physical body.
It's the only time when panting and breathing deeply are synced.
It's the only time that my legs can quiet my mind.
It's one of the three times I'm assured of Faith.

Unfolding Origami Thoughts

...Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.

-Rumi- Mathnawi, III, 3769-3766                                                   

This mathnawi excerpt filled my mind with images of the dizzying zig-zag patterns of flocks of birds in flight. You know how they are all clustered on the ground and then in absolute perfectly flowing unison rise up all together? There are so, so many of them and yet, they're all flawlessly in sync.  I wondered if we humans could ever move like that. On a large scale. When it mattered. 
Soon, my mind wandered to the predicable pattern of visualizing these thoughts and resulted in the photo above. It's very meditative folding several origami doves. You should try it.
With each fold, I find I'm manipulating the wings in different ways and thinking about the expansion and contraction of the self. I wonder about going into that deep presence that Rumi talks about, and if that awareness would make actions more thoughtful. 
As my origami flock increases, I know feelings and thoughts are uniting inside me around the recent indelible story of the late Tanya Brooks. She was metaphorically paralyzed for most of her life and her story has now paralyzed me.   

Ruminating on Rumi

There are periods of time when I just can't get thoughts out of my head. Sometimes it's to the point that I find it hard to focus on other tasks. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's just today. The thoughts are mainly preoccupations with living, justice and analyzing the meaning of a collective Canadian identity. Today it's about living. In Payam Akhavan's lecture series, "In search of a better world"(part of the 2017 CBC Massey Lectures), he begins with a reflection on a quote from the ancient Persian poet, Rumi:

                  

     "The wound is the place where light enters you." Crystal Crescent Beach, N.S   08.'17

After hearing this line, I immediately illustrated it in my mind and remembered a photo I had taken during a hike with my brother, Jude. Every time I hike, walk or ride, I visit wounds. This photo reminds me of the threatened light in wounds. Both forces are present. The pain and (the hope of) healing. Simultaneously. The will to survive and have hope can be darkened so quickly. This tug-of-war can be likened to the personality of the Atlantic ocean as we experience it in Nova Scotia. The ocean cycles through many intense states but always steadies itself beautifully. That fierce, icy blueness makes the rugged land brighter somehow. I think the wound is the place where light enters us. It's a continuous choice though to recognize and accept that guest.  

her North End

I was invited into a dear friends' life yesterday. We walked through her North End in Halifax. For over 20 years, her small core team has provided a funky and warm drop-in centre for travelling and homeless youth. The Ark on Gottingen street is filled with stories and memories. They are laden with sadness, escape, violence, drugs, sickness, dreams, music, life and death. I learned that some youth saw themselves as travellers, passing in and out of safe spaces in different cities. Others were fleeing violence and homeless. Most of these stories were illustrated in the art prints that decorated every inch of wall space. Silent voices lamented in the quiet of the recording studio downstairs. And, pleas for any type of help were displayed in the cardboard poster 'gallery' in the laundry room. The cozy 'bedroom' has allowed several people to lay their head down briefly and experience warmth, safety and hope. This little room also has served as a no-strings-attached part-time primary care clinic to many youth who have no paperwork. No birth certificates = No health card = No access to health care. 
It's funny, I left Ark feeling heavily light. I had no idea. I just had no clue. That space is pulsing with pain and beauty. 
I don't know what street life is like. I don't know what fleeing violence as a child is like. I don't know what it means to have friends overdose or contract Hep C. I don't know what it feels like to sleep in abandoned schools. I just...don't know. But, I do know that Ark exists and so many lives of our youth are at risk. Right here. In Halifax. In the north end.