Several years ago, I arrived home, after spending time in Spokane. I struggled in the first few days back and reflected on what was happening. Quite often, I resist routine and find it is hard work.
Rarely, are we alone in our travails. It is universal Real change, transformation is slow, purposeful, and patient process. Upon looking at pictures we took on our travels and for all of nature’s ability to sometimes erupt and change rapidly, most change is slow and transformational. For the most part, deep change, transforming, in nature is a great model to observe.
I wrote the following poem in response to those reflections.
Waiting,
Impatient–
Desiring more
Leaning into headwinds,
Transforming–
Slow, patient, with purpose
Lacking blueprint.
Journeying,
With one’s self–
With companions,
Breaking bread,.
Trusting–
Devoting,
Changing together.
Embracing,
No explaining,
Words unnecessary–
Smiling assurances.
Looking back,
Revealing worn paths–
Sharing,
Sheltering one another
Pressing ahead–
Certain in uncertainty.
I took the picture on the way to Kootenai Lake in Glacier National Park. Even on a well worn path, there is a limited view of what is behind and ahead. As well, there are many things hidden along the path, there and invisible. There is always a trust in other people and in the path as I move ahead with purpose. Paradox exists in the feeling of certainty in an always uncertain world.
As I reflect on my blogging, I note a significant change in tone, voice, and content. When I began, I did it for the wrong reasons, driven from ego. Transformation is about one’s self.
Thich Nhat Hanh shared the following about the miracle of being alive:
“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child—our own two eyes. All is a miracle.”
Transforming is not the same as change. Change is always happening, often running below the radar. When something or someone transforms, I bear witness to it or that human. I am pulled up short and take a second look, perhaps more. I become aware of the remarkable change, which is part of a larger, less visible cycle. I am aware of the remarkableness of the world and its inhabitants.
Experiencing metamorphosis is about seeing one’s life in its simplicity and ordinary elements, in the extraordinary. In this way, living is the miracle. Just being aware of what surrounds me and what I encounter is the mindfulness that makes life a miracle.
I took this picture of a butterfly. I was aware of its beauty and how it made life fuller.
Kathy took these panoramic pictures as we drove to Waterton. I wonder how I make sense of life without a more complete picture and the haze fades, revealing a complete and panoramic view. Even at that, life’s complexity shrouds the mystery, as there is too much to take in.
Humans often set the sacred in opposition to the profane and mundane. In what we might consider of as less sophisticated or mystical traditions, the distinctions are less in evidence. The sacred and profane blend together and are readily experienced in the traditions and daily lives of people. Sophisticated has to do with wisdom (sophia, so who am I to judge what is wisdom in a world I am an outsider to? This stands out to me when I visit Indigenous sites in Alberta and beyond. In ways they are stewards of Nature in ways I cannot be as I do not understand my relationship to Nature in a proper way.
Archaeologists discovered evidence the site was on a migratory path for indigenous people, primarily the Niitsítapi (Blackfoot Confederacy), who used innovative ways to hunt plains bison at least 5500 years ago. A jump or ‘pishkun’ in Niitsítapi used drive lanes marked by rock cairns. The buffalo ran between the cairns and the last part of the drive lane sloped up, making the jump unnoticeable. The process required perfect human timing and was extremely dangerous.
Legend has it the name comes from an unfortunate incident when a young man wanted a closer view of the action. He waited at the base of the cliff. The hunt was successful and, when he was found, he sustained a broken skull and died.
Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump is at the confluence of three geological formations. The Rocky Mountains and Great Plains are well-known. The picture below shows the rise into the Porcupine Hills. Young Niitsítapi men transitioned to manhood through a vision quest and went to the hill in the foreground. The hill, with spiritual meaning to the Niitsítapi, does not have public access.
Journeying alone
Enter spiritual space
Questing for adulthood.
At Smashed-In-Buffalo-Jump’s interpreprative centre, we watched traditional dancing and heard traditional drumming and singing. The drum symbolizes Mother Earth’s heartbeat in Niitsítapi and other indigenous traditions.
Beating hearts gather
Singing, dancing, encircling
Joining as one with Her.
I took this picture as we turned towards Waterton. It was a hot, hazy day, blocking a view of the mountains.
The Niitsítapi meaning ‘original people,’ had their tradtional homes here. The Piikáni (North Piegan), a member of the confederacy, traveled to Waterton’s Blakiston Valley and gathered at Akaitapi (good campsite), providing food, water, and shelter. The area was also used by the Ktunaxa (Kootenay or Kootenai) who traveled from the west, through what is now the Crowsnest Pass.
hot, hazy beauty
shimmering above prairies
block distant bastions.
A small herd of bison live in a paddock at Waterton. At one time bison covered the Great Plains of North America. This was literal. People heard them long before they came into view and, when they were visible, it was a mass of brown and black that covered the prairies. Indigenous people used this animals as a ‘walking supermarket’ as almost all its body parts were harvested and usable.
Proud people’s icon
Plains symbol of abundance
Today’s sad sideshow.
We have attended a number of concerts with John Wort Hannam performing. He is from the part of Alberta I highlighted and has a beautiful song about the hills around the area. Enjoy.
Here is another post with photos and poems based on travels through of the natural beauty of Waterton Lakes National Park and Glacier National Park. Parks Canada describes the former as where the prairies and mountains meet. The latter is known as the crown of the continent.
As we drive along Highway 22, we get this view of the mountains in Waterton. The sign says, “Where prairie meets the mountains” and they do. We saw this view later in the day.
This is what a few minutes does in this part of the world.
Embracing mountains
Emerging peaceful fury
Signaling day’s end.
Can you imagine waking up to the view below each day? It is intense. The Canadian census indicates 88 permanent residents of Waterton town site experience this. This is Mount Vimy viewed from the townsite across the big lake.
We traveled down the big lake crossing the Alberta-Montana border about half-way down. We cleared customs with our passports and hiked on the Montana side. At the end of our hike we arrived at to Kootenai. The scenery is spectacular.
Soaring ramparts,
Sheltering nature’s bounty.
In their shadows, safe.
At the end of a dayn hiking we saw this across the lake looking at Mount Vimy again.
Fair maiden rising,
Watchful eye surveys Nature,
Keeping safe til morn.
I know I shared this video a couple of weeks ago. It is my favourite John Prine song and reminds us Paradise is within reach. The challenge is to protect what we have.
I love to go to Waterton National Park and, by extension, to Glacier National Park. They border each other on the Alberta-Montana border and form what is known as an International Peace Park.
When I go to Spokane, I drive past the turnoff to Waterton and it brings back by fond memories each time. Kathy and I spent part of our honeymoon, roughing it in a tent, in Waterton. The scenery is beyond spectacular and, when we are in settings like this, the poet in is spoken to.
The first day we were there in 2012 this deer was in the townsite unconcerned about human presence.
We traveled down the big lake and crossed the Canada-US border. This was the boat we took. Despite appearances, the boat is over 90 years old and was refurbished.
Joining us together
Offering a hopeful message
Carrying peace each day.
Once we got to the American side of the border, we stayed and hiked into Kootenai Lake. We had our passports, cleared customs, and were able to take a later boat. Along the way, I saw some great sights. Having said this, the brush along the trail was so heavy we could not get off of it and I wondered what we missed.
As part of my PhD, the university required I take two ethics courses. In 2012, I took an ethics class. A central theme in the course was the role eudaimonia plays in one’s life. We often translate eudaimonia as being happiness. It is more than being happy in the moment, as that is fleeting. Instead, Aristotle expanded on it to mean human flourishing and even blessedness, which occurs even in moments of distress.
When we think of eudaimonia in that way, it opens up opportunites to reflect on how we experience flourishing. In my case, it is the human relationships, a love of sports, hockey specifically, and writing, particularly poetry. I began to write poetry again, not because I felt at ease with the world, rather because I was unhappy at the time. It was opening up my heart in ways to allow this unhappiness to be dealt with one in ways to help me flourish.
Writing haiku is one poetic form I enjoy. Part of writing them is fun I had teaching how to write them. Students challenged me to write a haiku on the spot. I always began with an idea usually, but not allows, about nature. I got three lines down and then went back to select better words and focus on the syllables.
Students seemed to engage differently as they saw me enjoying writing haiku. Adults sometimes complained. For example parents and administrators questioned teaching poetry. I responded with it is good to write poetry as we learn how to select and use language in precise ways, plus it is fun. They did not always get it. Students did.
Here are a couple of examples that come to mind. It is not that we write as much as it is a process of writing and being written.
coursing cool current
tearing over life’s rocks
crossing to healing
Language and words bridge one’s private struggles and and make it visible and public. I strugled with these haiku. I think I need more practice. I hope they make sense.
Etymologically, companion is breaking and sharing bread (panis, pa, and pain) with one another as we come together (com). It is associated with being on a journey, meeting others on the path, and stopping to eat with one another.
Companion lends itself towards metaphor, taking us beyond the literal. Faith and cultural traditions have stories related to helping one another, showing compassion and companionship to others. The word compassion means to share the joys and sorrows fo one’s life with others. When we do this, we do so because we can relate to what someone else is experiencing e.g. the loss of loved one.
On this quest we call life, we can questioning what it means to live this life. How do I share it? I am reading Parker Palmer‘s On the Brink of Everything. Parker repeats this need to understand and share in, sometimes, unexpected ways. It is not a calculated process, which humans often can fall into. After all, to be human is to fall short. It is to do the proper thing and bring out the better angels in ourselves and others.
I tend to think a lot, but this is a time where I am thinking even more. What forms of leadership do we want moving forward? How do we bring some harmony to a world often divided? How do we engage in meaningful dialogue to listen with open hearts to others who have much different experiences?
Arise,
This morning.
Tentatively step into the unknowable,
Discerning one’s voice afresh,
Discovering one’s purpose anew.
Asking,
What nourishes, waters, and heals one’s soul?
Who walks with us?
Who joins us?
Who shares the journey?
Who breaks bread with us?
How do we find refuge in one another?
As we pause and share the path,
Never quite able to step into the other’s steps.
Take care,
In one’s questing,
Speak mindfully, heartfully, graciously
Hear mindfully, heartfully, graciously
Your self and others encountered.
I took this picture in Waterton Lakes National Park. When I hike, nature reminds me to sense how much is closer at hand than I realize. What don’t I see? What don’t I hear? The coronovirus gives me time to reflect and question my priorities. What do I value? Am I true to my values? There are things and people who remain invisible and unheard, yet may be closer at hand than I realize. How do I become a companion and share in their journey without imposing?
Several years ago, I was in the midst of professional struggles and wrote this poem while attending a retreat based on Parker Palmer‘s work. At the time, I was reading his book, The Heart of Democracy. In the book, I came across the following quote:
“Suffering breaks our hearts, but the heart [that is] supple … breaks open, not apart, [and] can grow into greater capacity for the many forms of love. Only the supple heart can hold suffering in a way that opens to new life.”
Joanna Macy has a similar quote: “The heart that breaks open can contain the whole universe.” If my memory is accurate it is this quote that informed Parker’s writing at the time. It is about hopefulness. Hopefulness is not going it alone. It is walking up the mountain together, with those who we can share the burdens of our mutual journey together. Companionship is about sharing bread along the journey, not hoarding it. This is an apt metaphor. What does bread mean in our daily lives?
Parker reminded me passion is not just about love that comes easily. Passion is love has moments of suffering, sometimes long moments. We can each grow through these moments or wallow in self-pity. The other part of suffering is I was not in it alone. Whether it was a colleague who listened, parents who came to check in with me every few days, or Kathy giving me space to make career decisions, I was not in these moments alone.
At the time, I was writing poetry for the first time in years and it was a healing space; a space where I tried to become whole. An essential part of becoming whole is speaking from the heart, which may not mean speaking out loud. In speaking to one another this way, I must listen more closely.
Weighing us down;
We set backpacks down,
Without companions,
The path terrifying,
The mountain is high,
Its peak obscured.
Sharing one’s load;
Trusting,
Settng one’s course right,
Being true to one’s heart,
Only other hearts hear,
Will others hear?
Speaking one’s truth;
Inviting,
Sharing
Lightening loads;
Strengthening our resolve,
Straighening backs,
Squaring shoulders,
Holding heads high.
Will we walk together?
Will we share our loads?
Will we lighten the journey?
I leave you with a wonderful short video from a Canadian performer, David Francey called Morning Train.
I began looking through some poetry I have written over the years and the first one I came across was this one called The Simple Life. I am going through the poetry, as I think with the time provided, I might look to put them into a coherent form and publish a book of poetry. I promised myself I would do this and have been given the time to work on project.
I enjoy solitude. For me, it is time to recharge batteries. Even on holidays, I spend time with Kathy and not many others. We visit family and friends, and hike. On the trail, we meet people to see plants and animals of the area.
It is good to be alone at times,
Sheltered by comforting trees,
The wind singing its song,
Here, I experience freedom and peace,
For the moment, worries set aside.
Minnows dart at the water’s edge,
Dancing between light and shadows,
Seemingly, without a care,
There, they experience home’s safety;
Its primal call.
Here, this is me,
I exist within a simple space;
An unseen hand beckons me,
I wave to this life,
Enjoying it each time I return;
Nature’s beauty gradually revealed.
I wrote the poem after spending the day hiking in Waterton Lake National. The one reference is to standing by the lake and watching minnows dart in and out of the sun and shadows. In Arizona, we hiked in an area of Buckeye called Skyline Regional Park.
I took the pictures below over five or six days as the cactus blossomed. As a result, we walked the same path with some variations over that time. We got to see nature’s beauty gradually being revealed.
Teacher as Transformer 