back from a walk down to the Red River. A narrow path gilded by autumn
leaves. Through a grove of conifer and assorted deciduous trees. Approaching
the water just as the orange sun goes down behind the trees on the far
shore. The whole scene touched with an invitation to wonder. Punctuated by
the plaintiff calling of a dozen or so Canada Geese. Noticed a smooth flat
rock by the water's edge. Approached and stepped up. A solid anchor as my
soul longed for flight. Away from the madness now looming large in our human
awareness. Many continue to avoid facing truth by pursuit of diversion. Even
these are clearly touched by an anxious wondering about what is to come as
we go forward.
I did not want to sit here tonight. Seemed a
rather pointless exercise. What can my voice say that is not already said by
a thousand voices? Voices from East and West. North and South. Voices young
and old. Voices of all timbre, pitch and intensity. Every day another rising
into public hearing. Then another. Each and all painting a clear picture of
the dilemma now in the wings. The many voices saying one thing. Wake up!
Change your way of thinking and acting. Abandon the structures of
exploitation and domination. Step into the creative adventure of freedom by
which the restless striving of power after power is overcome. Start where
you are. Converse with persons open to new imagination of inherited
circumstance. Think of Frodo. His companions from home and abroad. Their
quest in the hope of restoring balance. The healing of creation and our
living in it.
For the past while I have been sketching bits
and pieces of experience along the way of my life. My concern has nothing to
do historical details. My hope is wholly grounded in the possibility of
provoking others to re-examine personal priority and commitment. That some
presented word, phrase or sentence may trigger thought in the reader. Like
throwing pebbles into a pond. Watching the ringed ripples of each tiny
stone. Their overlapping. Their reaching the shore and rippling out again.
The sharp smack of a Beaver's tail. The rush of Heron wings taking flight.
Conspiring to whisper deep appreciation. "In spite of all its sham and
drudgery, it is still a beautiful world." A fine line from a poetic
reflection on meaning and purpose; from Max Ehrmann's "Desiderata".
I will persist in my life's timeline. My
transcendent experience in the Rocky Mountains shifted my centre of gravity.
The past is no longer my master. A voice calls me to follow in the way of
life. That voice sounds from the future. Every day it sounds a little
clearer. What I began in faith is taking on substance. But I will not run
ahead. Tomorrow I will recall the beginnings of my new life.