“ Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.” – Kahlil Gibran, Sand and Foam
A river of rain on its way from the Philippine islands hit the West Coast this week blasting apart the lingering ice and snow. During a recent winter wander just as this storm started, I noticed quite a change from the once in a generation weather that gave us frozen ponds and high drifts. This new weather brought warmer temperatures and a just rain-washed freshness to the air teasing me with thoughts of spring…
My thoughts are still tangled up in winter though, an evening out last week with my friend Yvonne to visit with her family (about 45 minutes outside of Vancouver) brought back an iconic Canadian memory to mind – we drove past a small group of young men and boys playing hockey in the cold air on a small frozen pond, something I experienced while living in the province of New Brunswick, my brother and I discovering a naturally frozen expanse among a stand of trees just across the street from where we lived. I remember the sound of sharpened skate blades tracing patterns on the frozen surface, the frosty air colouring our cheeks rosy red and the thrill of being on our very own secret skating rink, hockey sticks in hand. Winter images that remind me of glitter dusted Christmas cards lovingly collected.
As the winter wonderland fades away and our weather patterns return to normal, my thoughts often return to the anticipation that bubbled up around the dawning of this brand new year – always a good time for starting new projects, packing away any bits and pieces that don’t suit as we dream of all the unfolding days ahead. I can still feel that excitement but lately there is a thread of anxiety trying to push away those feelings – the news and mainstream newspapers are sounding an alarm about the other new year upon us, a year that promises to change the world as we know it. As I begin to bump up against the unknown edges of this brand new year, it may be time to put away the resolutions and list of goals – if I find myself in the eye of the storm underneath a dark sky there will be only one question to ask myself, ” Who am I here to be?”
In memory of Matt S.