A little bit country

Slow unwind, August 2011

That's about right, August 2011

Small planet, August 2011

Grand entrance, August 2011

Red clay road, August 2011

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Saskatoon summer night

Morocco, Saskatchewan, August 2010


Stand in for the moon, August 2010


Album cover for some arty pop music, August 2010

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The last drive in

My wife and I started our early dating life in the drive-in. I would pick her up from her hair salon job on Saturday night and we'd head right over to the drive-in. Summer long weekends were the best. Triple feature. Corn dogs. Pickle on a stick. Corn on the cob dripping in butter. And onoin rings. That was 20 years ago and drive-ins are long gone from our home city. Thankfully, change happens a little more slowly in Saskatchewan. There are two drive-in theatres that I know of. The Jubilee at Manitou Beach and this one, the Sundown, in Saskatoon.

The Sundown has a big FOR SALE out front. It is run by a couple that should be retired by now, but they must truly love their business. Or they can't afford to quit. A few people still come out and even though the place hasn't seen any cosmetic maintenance for 20 years, the projectors still run and the screen is more or less white. It works.


Still working, August 2010


Better not touch that, August 2010


When you live where you work, August 2010


Update? Nah..., August 2010


Just ghosts now, August 2010


Blue bulb spider webs, August 2010


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Throw away the book

Will you stop to notice? March 2010

My neighbor, whom I've known for two weeks via chats over the fence, just came over to see if I was OK. She said she'd seen my truck parked, unmoved for three days and wondered if something may have happened to me. If that isn't a message from the universe that I'm in the right place, then I don't know my messages.

I've been holed up in our new Eldorado home for three days now with a terrific flu. Night sweats, gooey phlegm, enough fluid in my middle ear to inflate a basket ball, and the energy of a November Birch. It's my time to pay up for months of hustling about with moving, family life, and work. I have a student with me for a couple months and I feel terrible that I had to abandon her for two days. Solo assessments. Treatment planning. And worst of all (my favorite part of the job): rounds. We gather as a team once a week to talk about all of our patients and fine tune treatment plans. It's great fun, but all new people are initiated by a mischievous, but brilliant physician who has a penchant for British-style teasing. It's good-natured enough, but I think most Canadians would first choose to shy away from public challenges. Poor student, I hope she survived the initiation without too much grief.

I've been away from writing on this blog for a good month I think. Too busy at first and then I was a little indifferent. Three years and more than 900 posts under my belt. I don't think it's time to say goodbye, but I want to challenge myself to make this blog a whole lot less about me. The capital letters ME. I want to move away from building an (unreal) image of myself and talk about us. US. The stuff we have in common. I may recount events from my day, but somehow I need to connect them to the bigger picture. Who cares what my favourite movies are? Or songs? Or my favourite flavour of gelatto? Those preferences are not me. Preferences define noone.

If my life is a book, I want to stop trying to influence how it will turn out. (It is and always will be fine.) I want to throw away the book and just live life as it comes. My first goal is to stop, just BE sick and rest. Step two will be to keep on stopping, every day, so that I don't run myself down so low. That is something we all should do.

(June 24, 2010) Note: Tara Brach is the source of the book idea I stole for this post. She said (paraphrasing), "The mind is always trying to figure out what page it's on in the book of life. Throw away that book."

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Within everything

Everything, April 2010

"Liberation beckons us within everything."

I don't know the author of this quote except that he was Chinese and lived sometime around the sixth century. He summarized volumes of Indian Buddhist teachings into one phrase.

This appeals to me because it says we don't have to go far to find peace. We can find it in religious practice, but we don't need to. We can find it tending our gardens, but we don't need to. We can find it raising our children, but we don't need to. The truth exists in everything. It is found everywhere.

I'm no longer worried about understanding "everything." Instead, I feel a sense of reassurance. I can't really screw up as long as I'm mindful. I don't have to worry about choosing the correct "right" thing -- listening to the right teachers, going on meditation retreats, reading the right books -- all of those are good, but none of them is the one and only way. Any will do. All will do.

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The universe is made of stories

The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.
- Muriel Rukeyser

Stories pass like bouncing photons, April 2010

Someplace to be, not here, April 2010

Furnish your mind

"Furnish your mind ... you don't have to be poor inside too."

Wayson Choi, The Jade Peony

I tend to buy things when I'm stressed. Nothing outrageous, just $200 here and $50 there, but if all that money stayed put, in the bank, I could tackle some of my big travel dreams. Not sure what the deal is. When I sit with my desire to spend, the emotion underneath it all is fear. A steady drip of anxiety. I'm feeling optimistic tonight, because I've never noticed that undercurrent before.

Photos from the Lohwinkel Mall on a beautiful spring night.

Three straight trees, March 2010

My cobalt blue Ridgeline, March 2010

Furnish your mind with light and shadow, March 2010

Always moving, nothing lasts forever, March 2010

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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For those who are trying

A stop along the way, December 2009

I've been trying very hard this past year to build a mountain with a teaspoon. So many goals, it's pathetic really. Some have stalled, many have failed miserably, and some have caused great harm to those around me. (A few have quietly moved ahead, but are so obscured by the noise and dust of my efforts that I've lost sight of them.)

This is the time of year for re-visiting lists and updating goals of self-improvement. My one goal is to understand why I have so much on my list. Aren't I good enough just the way I am? Isn't my life perfect just the way it is? My brain says yes, but my heart doesn't agree. Or is it the other way around?!

"...it's usually better not to set out on journeys like this with too many plans and expectations. Or even much hope. Do not forget your goal, but let the way to it find you ..."

- Thomas Wharton, from his novel The Shadow of Malabron

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And the light returns

Offend no one, December 2009


A study of impermanence, December 2009


What it's about, one, December 2009


What it's about, two, December 2009


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Waiting in the dark

Black is cold. Moving through it without protection would be like drowning, the light of life slowly fading to empty silence. Black is cold.


The air freezes what it touches, December 2009


Unwelcome oasis, December 2009


Winter beacon, December 2009


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A day spent chasing the light

Quiet breakfast, November 2009


Self-portrait with lights, November 2009


Lights on the edge, November 2009


Riding with penguins, November 2009


Stillness at a dance, November 2009


Waiting for some snow, November 2009


Quiet under the moon, November 2009

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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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Winter's rags

Winter's rags, April 2009

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It will come

Summer, I'm calling you. You thaw me as if I've been racing between galaxies for centuries and have finally returned to your granite hearth. Blinking, I scan the long horizon with sandy eyes. Even my toes are warm! I smell the green tea of a freshly cut lawn and I hear a happy dog barking over the hill: Here I am! Here I am!


Grassy quadrant, May 2008


Regarding the watcher, May 2008


Warm in the saddle, May 2008

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