I’m zipping along beside fields and woodlots, on the train from London to Toronto. I feel like doing a real time reflection on the sights flowing past my window. So here goes:
1. Slowly pulling away from downtown London. The backside of one business is tortured with coils of razor wire, reminding me of horrifying war movies and the real human beings who were imprisoned within such monstrosities.
2. Searching for St. David’s in Dorchester, a school that I loved visiting as an itinerant vision teacher. I fear that I’m on the wrong side of the train and gaze over the heads of the folks to the right. But there’s nothing. I missed it. I’m a wee bit sad since I love glimpsing familiar places, even if only for a second.
3. It’s a cloudy day and so the spectacular fall colours are muted. I’m disappointed. I yearn for the brilliance. It reminds me of the guy who came to my home a couple of days ago to calibrate my new TV. He said that manufacturers set up their TVs to really pop in showrooms – neon greens and whites full of blue. It sells the product but creates an unreality, with precious little play of details. I decide to take my trees as they come.
4. Orange traffic signs piled against a fence – One Way, Slow, Detour, and a whole bunch of arrows pointing every which way. It’s such an image of the frantic life … “Go here. Now go there. Do this. Don’t do that.” No thanks.
5. Seeking interesting stuff. Having an agenda to find the next stimulus. “How about, Bruce, if you soften those eyes of yours and just let things appear?” Okay. Who cares if I write about six sights, or twenty-six?
6. Here comes a circular water tower – white at the top, then a pinched in blue section, followed by a white bottom. Seems to be a uniform design throughout Southern Ontario. I’m reminded of the Belmont water tower. My new home sits nearby. Whether I’m returning from the north, south, east or west, there’s a beacon above the trees. “Welcome home.”
7. A street of houses facing the tracks. What must that be like? Would the people there really be able to tune out all the noise? Please give me quiet.
8. Stopped at the Brantford station. Rows of tracks. Houses over there past the fence. Part of me wants movement, change … but the bigger part just lets everything stay put.
9. A young woman in the seat in front of me is playing with her hair. All I see is her left hand, with ever moving strands of hair passing between her fingers. It’s very beautiful.
10. The field beside tilts and rolls. Where corn used to be are now marvelous curves, sensuous like a woman’s body. I’m aroused.
11. Towering cliffs with tiny people on the top ledge. I want to be them, casting myself into a view full of reds, oranges and yellows. Do they want to be me, on a journey to distant lands?
12. A station called Aldershot. It appears to be in the middle of nowhere, no homes or businesses in sight. Just a whole bunch of railway cars. How strange – a place with no sense of place.
13. Piles of glittering silver junk, fronted by a green metal fence flooded with unknown graffiti. I don’t know how to make sense of it all.
14. Poking above the fall trees are blocky hotels. Such a contrast. I like both, usually not at the same time. I’ll take action, please. And now serenity.
15. Twenty minutes from downtown Toronto. Feeling the pull away from the here-and-now, towards completion of the task … proofreading, pressing Enter to launch my words into the universe, packing up, walking into my next world.
See you there