Day Eleven … On The Road And With The Poem

Uh oh.  I’m falling way behind.  It’s the morning [now afternoon] of Day Thirteen and I’m trying to remember Day Eleven.  I’ll do my best.

I left the home of Isabelle and Bruce and headed west towards Banff National Park, then north on the Banff-Jasper Highway, west from Jasper into BC, and north to my home-away-from-home: McBride.  Gosh, that was a lot of driving.

I was stuck in a traffic jam on the freeway approaching Banff.  How can this be?  I’m surrounded by picturesque foothills and towering cliffs.  Out in the middle of nowhere breathing in exhaust.  Once we got going again, several sights beckoned me.  First was this multi-coloured van with a black and white peace sign on the hood.  The back end and the left side were festooned with words and paintings that were extremely … sexual.  Since this is a family show, I won’t give you the details but it was astonishing to see.  Whoever the driver was, I’m sure that his or her mom won’t be riding in that van anytime soon.

Then there were the wire fences – six feet tall.  The divided highway was a corridor through all those trees, with the fences blocking animals from crossing.  All this to serve human beings?  It was eerie to drive through.  Every ten kilometres or so, I’d approach twin tunnels over the road.  The route above them dipped down in the middle and was covered with trees.  It wasn’t an intersecting road for cars.  This was for deer and moose and bears to get where they were going.  Okay.  Far better than not accessing the other half of their world.

I passed beside glaciers shining in the sun, wide river flats boasting the most exquisite aquamarine waters, and an infinite number of Jody’s trees, mostly coniferous folks reaching for the sky.  But it felt strange.  I stopped when there was a cool view to take pictures.  But I felt like an ordinary tourist, driving forever, stopping for a photo and then driving forever again.  No context.  No real relationship to what I was seeing, no walking in the trees … sort of empty.  Oh well.

Before leaving Isabelle and Bruce, we sat down for breakfast.  As we were sipping our coffee, Isabelle pulled out a book.  “I have a poem for you, because you’re a traveller.”  I’d like to share it with you.  It speaks to me as I wander from human being to human being.  Thank you, Isabelle.

To Bless The Space Between Us

Every time you leave home
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in

New strangers on other paths await
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your entry
Old places that know you well
Will pretend nothing
Changed since your last visit

When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way
More attentive now
To the self you bring along
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home

How you unexpectedly attune
To the timbre in some voice
Opening a conversation
You want to take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some unsaid dark
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way

When you travel
A new silence
Goes with you
And if you listen
You will hear
What your heart would
Love to say

A journey can become a sacred thing
Make sure, before you go
To take the time
To bless your going forth
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you

May you travel in an awakened way
Gathered wisely into your inner ground
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait along the way to transform you

May your travel safely, arrive refreshed
And live your time away to its fullest
Return home more enriched, and free
To balance the gift of days which call you

Day Ten … Mr. Spock, Isabelle and Bruce

It was goodbye Lethbridge and hello Calgary yesterday.  I had so much fun talking that I didn’t get a blog post written.  I hope you didn’t think I was caput.  I’m alive and happy.

The main route to Calgary goes through Fort Macleod and Claresholm.  A fellow I was talking to in Wendy’s said that I’d save some time by going through Vulcan instead.  Sure, sounds good to me.  Hmm … Vulcan.  That’s where they have the Star Trek display in honour of Mr. Spock, a pointy-eared Vulcan if ever there was one.  I’m there!

As I approached the ordinary-looking prairie town,  I figured I better ask where the Star Trek stuff was, so I pulled off the highway and walked into a restaurant.  An Oriental hostess greeted me warmly but clearly wasn’t a Trekkie.  She didn’t know anything about the Star Trek display.  Then a huge “Ah hah!” look exploded on her face.  She rushed to the window and pointed across the street.  And there stood the Starship Enterprise.  Perhaps I should scan my horizons more completely.

Off I went, taking photos of all things Trek, starting with a big board that featured the crew of the original Star Trek, plus Captain Janeway.  You could undo the head piece from behind, shove your head through and be Kirk, Worf, Spock and other celestial heroes.  There were plaques on the Enterprise monument, including a message written in Klingon.  Across a parking lot stood the Vulcan Tourist Information Centre, a white building that looked suspiciously like an outpost on the planet Xerox.  Inside a friendly lady said hello.  I was trying to greet her with Spock’s “Live long and prosper” salute, but I couldn’t get my fingers going right.  My guide had me close my eyes.  She held my hand for a bit and asked me to relax.  “Focus on your second and third finger and spread them apart … gently.  (Pause)  Now open your eyes.”  It worked.  My first and second fingers stayed magically glued together, as did my third and fourth.  I’m all set to be an extra in the next Star Trek film.

And then Calgary.  I was visiting Isabelle (70) and her husband Bruce (71).  Isabelle and I met a few weeks ago on the steps of the Church of the Holy Trinity in Toronto.  We were waiting for the doors to open for a session of Sanskrit chanting led by Krishna Das.  He chants the names of God and we in the pews sing each line back to him.  It was very moving.  Isabelle, her daughter Elizabeth and I had a great time talking before and after.  After I mentioned that I was travelling west, Isabelle invited me to visit her in Calgary.  And here I am.

Both husband and wife are remarkable.  Bruce decided at age 65 that he wanted to play the piano.  So he started taking lessons and last night played us a tender rendition of “Pachelbel Canon”.  Such an entrancing melody.  Bruce missed a few notes but, hey, life is a work in progress.  Good for him to commit himself to something brand new.  He’s also a fine storyteller.  He’s had a history of picking up things at garage sales, and reselling the items for a profit.  One day, he showed up in the driveway with his truck and asked his teenaged kids to see what was inside.  Little did they suspect … 180 rakes and hoes and tons of spades.  Those poor children were dumbfounded into silence.  I was as well when Bruce told the story.  He resold the implements the next day.

Isabelle decided recently that it was time for singing lessons.  And so she began, with a very important audience in mind – her grandchildren.  She also worked up a routine for Yuk Yuk’s and presented it.  So gutsy.  Isabelle loves volunteering at a hospice and especially likes “the grumpy ones” because they need the most love.

As you can tell, I’ve met two fine human beings.  And that’s what this trip is for me – being with people.  Because they’re the best.  I love the mountains and the lakes, the forest and the fields, but they pale in comparison with the communion of souls.

There.  I’m sort of caught up, except I haven’t said anything about today.  Tomorrow.