Highway 53, just driving

Highway 53

Highway 53 closer

Mmmm, butter

Look, look, (look at the lookers)

Dusty coulee near  Donalda

Summer scenes

A beautiful end, June 2012

We spell it SOME MORE, June 2012

Unkept and proud, June 2012

Don't look inside, June 2012

The clouds on my knees, June 2012

Ordinary beautiful

The eternal is revealed, March 2012

Golgotha of Mundare

Skip the giant sausage the next time you go to Mundare and drive up the road to visit the Golgotha of Mundare instead. Way more interesting.

This fascinating structure is designed so that the faithful can visit in order to pray and meditate privately. Although it has a main outdoor altar that is occasionally used to celebrate Mass, the Grotto is essentially a combination of chaplets, prayer stations, and catacombs designed to convey and emphasize the element of mysticism in the Ukrainian Catholic religion. The idea to build the Grotto was conceived by Reverend P. Bodnar. Construction began in 1932, with the Basilians actively taking part in the project. It took approximately a decade to complete. Constructed from a combination of fieldstone, masonry, and concrete, the Grotto is crowned by an 8.5 metre steel cross that lights up the night sky. Much of the Grotto's beauty stems from the carefully-tended vines and shrubs that drape and surround it. [Source: http://www.ualberta.ca/CIUS/religion-culture/c-alberta/tour/p6.htm]

Compassion flows, October 2011


Seeds just waiting for a favorable wind, October 2011


Imprisoned, October 2011


Repose, October 2011


Nature wins, October 2011


Rising from flames, October 2011


Walking meditation, October 2011


Irony, October 2011

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Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind

Gillian Welch. Everyone should know who she is. Maybe listen to the song as you look at the photos. Old Shandro Hall leads. Built around 1935, it was witness to many a waltz, brawl, perfumed embrace, and happy glow. Now it rests as the rain washes away a multitude of memories and the endless grass caresses its old bones.


I can hear a fiddle, July 2011


Don't dwell in the dark, July 2011


Release the pain and the love, July 2011


Each stone is a memory, July 2011

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Welcome shelter unneeded today, July 2011


We're going to make it to the end of the road, July 2011


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Used to be Edmonton Art Gallery

Now it's called the Art Gallery of Alberta. It's new this month. It's awesome.

We don't get much master work to look at in our small city of around a million. Lots of great art, but I've had to travel to Montreal or Toronto if I wanted see the stuff that fills the pages of my art history books. You people who live in Europe sure have it good!

The gallery's grand opening has given us the excuse to order in some master art.

The highlight for me was Goya's series of etching called "The Disasters of War," should be required study for anyone who thinks that war is a good thing. They are so sad, brutal really, and presented with such a ferocious honesty, it's a wonder Goya survived them. (Never mind the technical brilliance of many of these little compositions. I tried to imitate a Goya etching many years ago. It took me two months to finish and convinced me to stick with photography.)

One room over, I spent an hour looking at some Degas paintings. There were sculptures too, but they left me cold. The paintings though, damn!, that man could wield a brush. There was nothing holding him back, each stroke was a mindless as a branch in the wind and as perfect as a Basho poem.

It was the contemporary art that impressed my young boys most. A massive sound installation called The Murder of Crows blew us all away. 98 audio speakers, 98 tracks, one mind-expanding listening experience. A person could return to this exhibit 98 times and hear something different. Wow!

There's a pile more cool stuff. If you live near Edmonton, get yourself down to the new gallery. It's another reason to call Edmonton great.


aga, February 2010


Inside a sculpture, February 2010


Stop, notice the light, February 2010


Do you see the point? February 2010


Timing, February 2010


Timing too, February 2010


New neighbors/sliver of ochre light, February 2010


Eternity is an illusion, but the idea is still awesome, February 2010

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It doesn't look that cold

What the H?, January 2010

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Michael invites the universe for tea

A space that can't be filled, December 2009


Plenty of room for the infinite, December 2009

"What is it then that this desire and this inability proclaim to us, but that there was once in man a true happiness of which there now remain to him only the mark and empty trace, which he in vain tries to fill from all his surroundings, seeking from things absent the help he does not obtain in things present? But these are all inadequate, because the infinite abyss can only be filled by an infinite and immutable object ..." (emphasis mine)

Blaise Pascal – Pascal's Penses

I was led to this quote after listening to a CBC program about Gabor Maté's recent book called In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts.

The French philosopher Blaise Pascal believed there is "a God-shaped void in the human being," a kind of longing which can only be filled by the Eternal. If there's a God-shaped void in the human being, somehow or other, it is going to be filled. With alcohol? Drugs? Work? Music? Shoes? (source) (emphasis mine)

How did "infinite abyss" get transformed into "God-shaped void"? No matter, the intention behind the two phrases is similar enough.

What strikes me is the comparison of drug or alcohol addiction (tobacco anyone?) to more benign compulsions like collecting James Bond movies, plucking chin hairs, lining up the shoes in the entry way so that the toes are out and the heels are towards the wall, watching every single episode of "How I Met Your Mother" in chronological order, ... (only some of these are mine, ha ha). There is potential for an insanely complex discussion about differentiating good, bad, and neutral compulsions. I'm going to avoid that for now. The idea that is pushing me is that of blind compulsion and obedient attempts to fulfill them.

These days more than ever, I am keenly aware of an insatiable desire that drives me, has driven me for as long as my neurons have been holding on to memories. I'm never satisfied with myself. I want to be better at everything! Meditating, writing, speech-language pathology, breaking boards with my feet, running far, holding wacky yoga poses, the list is endless. (This is why I'm resisting the idea of the bucket list: it would be infinite!) I want. I want. I want. I want to earn more money, have a nicer house, I want to travel EVERYWHERE, I want to learn Chinese for God's sake!

When I meditate these days, I feel a strong urge to get up and do something. Leave my cushion and get busy. I don't like this. I yearn to be satisfied "with things present" as Pascal says above. Just look at that last sentence: "I yearn." It seems to be hard-wired! Is this a fruitless pursuit? Is pursuing what it means to be human? I'm still thinking the answer is NO. So, I'll keep trying.

"Hello Universe? Do you hear me? I surrender. See? I'm waving a white flag. Why don't you come over for tea and we'll chat for a while?"

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Boxed in freedom

(For Raymond) Edmonton, November 21, 2009

Boxed in by too much thinking, I escaped into performance art this weekend. Took my 8-year old boy to see Brian Webb dance on Friday night. Not exactly a normal father and son outing, but he had fun and I'm pretty sure he'll be the only kid in his class who has seen a modern dance performance. Webb is still brilliant by the way. I hope I can move half as well as him when I'm 58!

Yesterday was more conventional: Celtic-themed symphonic music with the ESO. Safe for the whole family. Lovely show. Irish dancers that levitated six inches above the scuffed hardwood, music that started in one mind flew through time, danced through the hearts and fingers of dozens of musicians, and then drifted through me like incense -- filling all those dark corners in my mind with beautiful grace. Best of all was when the piper strode out onto the stage and let 'er rip. I love bagpipe music. It's the martial arts of music. It makes me want to march.

This Sunday morning the walls are a little further away and I can sense the blue sky over my shoulder.

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Buddha of the oil tanks

My distractions are powerful and sometimes invisible. Last night I woke up and found myself sitting in front of the T.V. with a weighty glass of scotch in my hand. The glass was moist on the outside from condensation and the whisky was still evaporating on my tongue. I tasted vanilla, honey, and something like humid forest. I remembered sitting down on the couch and wrapping myself in a fleece blanket after the boys had gone up to bed. The usual plan on Saturday night is to catch up on a week's worth of Tivo and get lost in some comedy, fantasy, and drama. But I didn't remember pouring myself the whisky. It just appeared.

How is it that I'm so blind to so many of my actions? Sometimes I feel like Pavlov's dog, salivating my way from one sleep to another. What AM I doing all day long when I've checked my awareness at the door? How much of this do I need and what could I let go of? (I don't think anyone could function as if every moment was a new one. Somehow that seems pathological.)

The only time I notice ME noticing the world (does that make sense?) is when I sit to meditate and occasionally when I suddenly "come to" during my waking day.

There's a theory that distractions are a way to avoid discomfort. If we don't distract ourselves with an endless list of pleasures, chores, and fantasies, then we will come face to face with our demons. (I'd rather keep those bad boys locked away in the cellar, thank you very much.) But I listened to a wise man this morning. He convincingly argued that if we let go of our distractions (one at-a-time, as they arise), what we will find isn't demons and tortures, but instead happiness. When we stop distracting ourselves ALL THE TIME, we can pay attention to the hindrances we all share. The hindrances we use to cover up our crystal clear, perfect minds. Happiness is the absence of hindrances.

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Below are photos of junk oil tanks from an evening stroll in Eldorado last month. These kinds of things are ubiquitous on the Alberta landscape. In fact, they are so common that I don't pay attention to them. (There's the connection between the photos and the text! Isn't metaphor grand?) I never wondered where the old ones went until I stumbled on these ones slowly rusting at the edge of a hay field.

We still haven't sold our home in Lohwinkel, so I continue my multi-hour commutes and days away from my family. I'm more content with this long transition than I was in September. There's really no rush now that school's started. In fact, I might even be better to wait. Better for the boys anyway.


The eyes of the beast, September 2009


Orange on orange, September 2009


The handle of a very large mug, September 2009


Up, September 2009


Me inside, September 2009


Me in between, September 2009


Find the dragofly, September 2009


Black residue, September 2009


Lets take a look on top, September 2009


Dangle, September 2009


Inside the black, September 2009


Outer-space drive-in, September 2009


Buddha of the oil tanks, September 2009

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