Sun Cycles

The table candle covered,
light fills the room
shimmering hope into a fog filled evening,

you say,

"that is the light you bring to the world"

silence

penetrates

may it be ever so.

gkn Dec. 2019 

Berlin

Sitting
in a cemetery cafe
a baby crawls
amidst tables, coffee,
feet, while roses and
monuments stand tall
aside trees, watering can colours
blending with flower garden
beauty, history non defining,
impacts
Me.

gkn August 2019

Brilliance

dedicated to Mike and Tom

This morning's card, drawn from a box given by a friend for my 60th birthday reads "Never mistake knowledge for wisdom.  One helps you make a living; the other helps you make a life."  Sandra Carey.

Today I am intent on continuing to make my life.  Today I am filled with awe at the many gifts I have been offered in the making of my life.  Gifts of support, of courageous listening, and of companionship.

This weekend we were blessed to have old friends in our home, friends whom we are not able to see as frequently as we would like.   This weekend our home and our lives were filled with the brilliance of their beings, and I noticed.

They and I have shared many trails,  our paths have crossed and crisscrossed,  with miraculous outcomes.   Some crossings have been celebrated.   Some not so much.

Two  accidents on the same day,  in a city and in a rural area, resulting in injury and changed lives in two households miles apart have become some of the common ground on which we continue to build meaningful and laughter filled memories.

I and my beloveds are left in the glow of the brilliant light they shared with us this weekend.  We are left with a renewed commitment to claiming and living into the brilliance of unconditional love that is available to each of us.  

I am challenged to notice what gets in the way of my laughter, to notice what gets in the way of me showing spontaneous affection, to notice what gets in the way of me celebrating the dragonflies the butterflies, the bees, the blooms...

As I anticipate my sixty fifth birthday, the publication of my memoir, and another visit,  I give thanks for all those who lives cross with mine, adding to the richness of my years.  

gkn
August 2019

Infusion

Toni Morrison has died
Beloved,  The Bluest Eyes  are calling
awareness, remember
what you know, have learned

a teacher is gone, another
coming forth to reinforce can
you hear her?   do you see her?

life's passages, cycles of hope
despair,  always better
love infused.

infusions  available
smiles walking on streets,
dancing anywhere, anytime
playing with a dog
a child,  or your partner,
laughing, noticing, celebrating
difference,

I want to meet the
courageous ( in Collingwood) couple
whose's skirts at
jazz in the park
wore gender ambiquity
hand in hand

continuous drips
in strangers, in flowers,
clouds, rain showers, friends,

infusions required, received
love renewed

August 2019

Reflections July 2, 2019

As I awoke the sun rising through my window, offered me glowing sheets of colour.   The familiar early morning bathroom visit, did not lead to more sleep rather I find myself on my front porch, filled just hours before with friends,  old friends.   The kind of people who have seen me at my best and at my worst.   Those people who have sat with me through deep sorrow, and great celebration,  people who have heard me rage, and have loved me through all of it.

Together we celebrated friendship that crossed barriers of time and space, together we celebrated the gift of living in Canada.  We discussed climate change, our grandchildren, our immigrants histories, our hopes, our fears.   We shared food, lots of food, we walked, we sat, we smelled the roses ( literally, this cool damp spring has created happy roses!).  We laughed,  oh how we laughed.    Some of us dove into georgian bay refreshed by the balm of healing waters,  some of us just walked along side, and some stayed at the house, reading, relaxing, napping.  

We celebrated Canada day 2019.

A few days before that I found myself sitting on a peaceful back porch at the home of an indigenous elder sharing our stories of life.  We sat together in silence and in conversation, we sat with the chipmunks and the dragon flies ( there were not many mosquitos).  We were born only months apart from one another.  We shared some experiences in our early lives,  we had many different experiences.  No one in my family was a residential school survivor.  

I went to a one room school for my first four years of my education.  I found arrow heads in the fields on my farm,  I collected them.  I did not know the first peoples who had lived on our farm, no one told me stories of them.   The indigenous settlement that was unearthed when a highway was being built near the farm I grew up on was cause for curiosity in my life.  I knew missionaries who worked in Indian schools up north.


Today I reflect,  and I invite you to join with me in reflection.    

The world has changed, is changing.   I am an  agent of change.   We are agents of change.

It is often hard to know how to use my privilege to make the world a better place,  for me and you...
and I am reminded of Mari's reminder to me that my guilt does no good,  so I live with privilege and I make choices out of that privilege.

I make choices with the knowledge that old and new relationships hold me.
I make choices with the confidence that Margaret Mead is right.  

I do not doubt that a small group of committed people can make a difference,  I  know it is the only thing that ever has.

Join me in making a difference and in celebrating the positive difference others are making, even  if, even when their choices are different than yours... and thanks for reading my early morning musings from my wonderful space here on the porch on West Street.

gkn July 2, 2019

Clouds

Moving through minds sky
overlapping image,
sofa body filled conversation
emptied
untangling clutter

projections

notice the owl,
see it, a book, a truth
over there, higher, moving

views obstructed,
grief, life, joy
fills, empties truth
mine, yours

ever moving

gkn June 2019

word less

Today I grieve, today I celebrate, today I question, today words seem so inadequate and yet I feel the need to write.  Oh the contradictions of life on this earth.   I grieve today.  I grieve  lives taken too soon.

This mornings email from a friend about the death of her soul mate, has shaken me.  

I celebrate with my friend as she reflects on her best friend/husbands death when she says she will live fully for both of them,   when she states I can do it ( and I KNOW she can!).

I grieve.

Sliding doors, those doors that invite us to step carefully, thoughtfully with abandon into life.  Those doors that challenge us to open them as we take another risk on love, on life when all else seems hopeless.

Those doors greet me daily and sometimes I notice them, sometimes I jump aside, sometimes I step in with enthusiasm, somedays I do not even notice that they are there.

Today I feel a renewed call to noticing, a renewed call to loving, to living in the now, in all the risky ways the spirit calls me to respond.

Today, I grieve with gratitude.

gkn June 2019

Seasons

The monarch chorus,
carrying hope for a longing soul
species decline, endangered
counting, counted fifty in
last years garden

watching

in the tree an orange flash
oriole?

binoculars

flittering
limb to limb
branches hold wonder

gatherers

the book educated
confer

those who love
live  breathe
know

a smile, a confident nod
knowledge gained
from mother


gkn June 2019

Dream

i got a rejection letter today.  
She read my work carefully.

I valued her feedback.
I got a response...

She read my work,
she said it was well written!

she inspired Me to submit again,
and to wait,

for another encouraging
rejection?
or maybe
....this one

gkn May 2019

Cycling

Pedals whirling,
precipitous emotions,
the congregation sings

brakes unresponsive, tears,
unbidden, gears shift,
unaided,

wind blows through tangles,
wrapped in experience,
another story  

mine.

gkn
may 2019

In the Stillness

The wood stove in the kitchen is hot,
maple sap boiling, it must be spring
the record player running in the next room,
might be Loretta Lynn.

Grief is present,  disconnected,
a soul soon leaving,
 "precious memories,how they linger"
this heart is grieving.

Another grandma denied connection,
the songs still plays from long ago
"precious sacred scenes unfold'"
sun is setting,
    there's no forgetting.

Pain, and anger, love and sharing,
hopes and dreams
            alive they swell,
"the sun is sinking, shadows falling,"
remember the losses,
fears tell well.

A granddaughter naps beside me,
the dryer runs on the floor below,
no songs are playing in the next room,
I hear a caw
is it a crow?

 
gkn April 2019

all quotes from lyrics from Precious Memories written by Alan Jackson

The Oscilate of Life

Her blonde head bounces as she clambers
over under the rail racing
toward swings

I gather her, encouraging caution
begging her to acknowledge
my fears

an underdog, I can hang on, she insists
see, places her little fingers solidly
on metal links.

baby blue seat is for another
child, an infant not her

caught

between wonder, awe or grief

my curls, my voice begging,
laughing  as I bounce from
an underdog

holding tightly as the sky greets
me

sun peeking through clouds
until darkness surrounds
the swing,

the laughter

holding tightly looking
for ground

leaving,
               returning,

             grey hair among the curls.

gkn April 2019

April 12, 1996

Translucence, 

diaphanous encirclement 

wings carried you

into the rainstorm, 

thunder crashing,

lightning breaking the sky, 

body  soul

torn   

asunder.

gkn 

April 2019

LIfe on Earth

We are living with four wonderful boys this week.  Their parents are enjoying time celebrating an anniversary,  not in Iceland.  WOW airline  shut down days before their flight.  They are in Montreal.

My pictures of delight accumulate waiting to be shared.  The stories grow, from the three year old, wistfully telling me that when he and mama and daddy go home, mama and daddy will be with him forever, to the almost sixteen year old discussing the amp he has ordered to go with his new electric guitar.

We check our email often to hear from our friend, a mother who has requested prayers for her son still living.  I glance at facebook at a moment in between action and I see reminders of trans visibility day, of a family surrounded by  another cancer diagnosis,  of weather warnings, of dancing police officers.  Stories filled with deep sorrow and courageous hope.

My life today requires me to  notice the many gifts that surround me.  Gifts of a tired body from swimming at the plunge, from climbing at the indoor playground, from building a snow person.  Gifts of sleeping with a little person who loves sleeping face to face.  The gift of watching an adolescent satire, and playing games of chess and checkers and and and...


I live in the middle of it all,  today joy surrounds me.


I anticipate tomorrow, with the knowledge of noticing this day!

gkn
March 2019

world poetry day #uniteagainstracism

educated, white middle class wealth, 

reading story books with pictures of my skin

not patted down when stopped for speeding,

no one in my family has been shot 

opportunity to speak, to intervene,

to return clothing without a receipt 

a garden sprouting with hope, 

confident of grandchild laughter

awareness of my 

impact, 

release

intention

my privilege...  

  

gkn March 21, 2019 

 

#uniteagainstracism

International Women's Day

I went to the library today and saw the books, the display books, about women.  In honour,  the sign said, of International Women's Day, which is coming on Friday, March 8.  I was reminded of the pictures of dancing and celebration that Kaitlyn shared with us from South Sudan.  Pictures of women celebrating International Women's Day.  I have never been to a celebration like those depicted.  This weekend Collingwood will have a celebration of International women's day, according to some reports the first celebrated by the town, the first with a flag raising.  I will not be able to be here, I will be picking up a grandchild for grandma week, or spring break as it is called by some.

All this got me thinking about the women in my life,  my daughters whom I celebrate with pride and delight, and the granddaughters, words do not give justice to the many ways in which I celebrate them.  

I think of the the women standing  for justice in our government in these days, and the women who have stood in protest, speaking for change through out the years.  

The women in my life who sought change and made change by acts of courage and kindness. The women who worked in the fields and the gardens and the kitchens and the nurseries and the factories. Those women who were my mother, and my grandmother and my aunts.  Those women who longed to go to school beyond grade eight but instead went to the factory or worked on the farm.

Today I am thinking of my aunt Florence.  I spent many hours in her home with my cousins, my friends.  I spent many hours watching her work.   She married at 18, bore 7 children (that I know of) one who was buried before she was able to hold him in her arms and share her love with him.  

I think of my aunt Florence whose doughnuts are still a relief sale staple even if she is no longer making them.  Her quilts likewise have raised much money for world wide relief.   Her beautiful quilt The Underground Railway, which she made in her eighties, was the highest seller at the Mennonite Central Committee sale in 2012.  

My aunt Florence would have liked to go to school, but she could not so she took herself to school, reading and learning and sharing her knowledge, on a recent visit with her not only did  she  want to hear of my latest travels, but she also shared with me some of the knowledge she had recently acquired about the underground railway in Canada.  It was not just a quilting project for her.

Aunt Florence was my Vacation Bible School teacher when I did not yet have short grey hair.   She was my Bible School teacher in the old horse sheds at East Zorra Mennonite church.  The church both of our families attended.  She expected attention from her students, and she expected her students to learn,  and I think I did learn maybe all the books of the old testament and stories from each too... BUT what I remember most are the peonies, the beautiful scented peonies that she brought in that curtained room in the shed, the peonies and the snacks she always brought both.

I am grateful today for my aunt Florence for the times she pointed out on the world map in their house where they were going and where the missionaries were.  For helping me find that same place on the globe, for being willing to take me along to expo 67 ( as if they did not have enough kids of their own)  for the many hours in which I was welcomed  and fed in her home.

Today, as I reflect on International women's day,  I give thanks for her and the so many other aunts, mothers of others and grandmothers and my own mother who did ordinary things to make an extraordinary difference in the world, especially in my world.


gkn March 2019

Soul journeys

Two years ago,
the day after her great grandfather's funeral,
she was born.   The text arrived at 4:34 am.
Yes, I had my phone's sound turned on.
can I come?
It is 4 in the morning mom, go to sleep...

a new soul landed in my world,
sleep would wait, I drove two hours
held her in my arms, while mama slept,
not really, she could not sleep either,
as daddy cleaned up the rest of the midwife visit.

Her brother would meet her soon enough, for now
he slept at Oma and Papa's.  
When he saw her he  raced
 across the room  held her in his sparkling eyes

love shone.



gkn Feb. 23 2019

X tian church?!

When I grew up church was more than a building,  when we talked about church we talked about community, about people we knew, and cared about and loved.

Today I am reading about a church, not my church,  the church of some, whom I call family, and by whom I am named family.

Today I am reading about a church, not my church, that is debating whether those who call me family can do that and be full participants of the community.
Whether people I love can love their families, (however they name them, however they love them ) and invite their families to be full participants in their christian faith community.

I was talking to a daughter, about a church, a faith community that celebrated the life of a servant leader, she was talking about the gift of this persons life, and the gift she was able to share by participating in the celebration of his life.

I was celebrating with a daughter as she shared about  her children's involvement in a church that welcomes them.    I told a friend that I am so glad all of my children are involved in faith communities, I told her that I was grateful for the support my grandchildren and children had as a result of the churches they were involved in.

I no longer call a church home, I no longer say my church.  

I pray with deep faith in gods of love that my children's children will never have to question, if they chose christianity, or any faith tradition...

I pray they will know and the institution which they desire to be a part of will know...

that  they are are sacred and welcomed and celebrated because they are...not because of who they are or how they love,  but because they are.

gkn Feb. 2019

Meanwhile

I have been home for four days now.  

four days of sunshine, yes sunshine in cold,

boots, mitts, coats, hats required, 

no more sitting on rooftops with tea 

and a sunrise,  but   but  the hot tub, white clouds, 

full moon, floating by in the darkening sky

it was cold, yes, it was cool getting there, 

the robe kept me warm, in a way, 

like the shawl before sunrise over the mountain, 

chilly and  well worth the view.

Four days of being home,  quite a change it

is true, different friends saying hi,  different teens

wandering by,  and the language sometimes 

more misunderstood, than the one 

I was learning day after day,  but  but

the sky oh so blue, and the sun shining through

is a sign of the cold, so refreshing, so clean,

my breath can be seen, the haze barely 

present, the ancient sites buried,  reminded again

of the lands I live on, note the ancients here too.

A vacation, a gift, to explore with some others, 

a culture so old,  the land so revered,  museums abound

sacred sites can be found, if I open my eyes, 

back here at home,  Christian Island is there as

I walk by the Bay, but     but    is it closer to me,

or do I just see something changed from before

did we open a door, when we looked at the floors

archeological digs, four civilizations deep,  

who has walked on this land, I call mine.

 Can this be? 

Diego,  Kahlo artists well known,  spoke to me in 

loud voice as I noted the choices they made at a risk,

what dare I see, what hope challenge new 

expressed in their work,  there are artists here too,

they tell truths to me but    but    what do I hear

some challenge my views,   Diego so clear and  

Kahlo inspires,  and connections they grow 

the work it lives on in this country, my home, 

inequity present based on race, health and  wealth,

to name just a few, how does hope live with you? 

I went on vacation, took a five hour flight, less than a 

day and a night, went to Mexico city, spent somedays in 

museums, ate food, walked in parks, took pictures, 

wrote stories, laughed and played with new friends,

went to mountains, and hiked   but     but something

happened to me, my vacation a classroom, filled

with joys  and with challenge, new windows flew open,

warm sunshine  and clouds,  I am reminded of

truths, as I live in the world, others live with me too, 

" Meanwhile the world goes on." 

 

gkn February 2019

 quote from Mary Oliver Wild Geese 

A day with Nacho

Another day, another hike sacred
mountain, companions, paintings,
space, symbols,                          caverns
hiding places

bright yellow blossoms, lime
petite white,  orange, scents
around each corner,                       surprise
my attention

changing light,the other side
of the mountain, a breath,
hike a little                              higher
the view, breathe

nopale fields, a village,
an ancient 16th century church
a path down                                zocalo
to food

a market, fresh fruit, again
nino bananas, tangerines,
savoured, while                      we walk
towards, tlacoyos

a taxi, same price
as combi he tells Nacho,
our familia                                      amigo
companero

homeward bound, around
mountains, through
small towns                             strolling
earthquake damaged church

next ride a combi but
first I am looking for ice cream
Nacho says, our eyes                        search
for a sign, helados

the combi riding student practises
his English “you are from?”  my life
enhanced by  his                                      dreams
of snow and snowboards

a market, mangos,
mint for mojitos, avocados
a pastelleria, three sweet               samples
to test, join our travels

we have arrived back home,
in Amatlan,  climb
cobblestone                                             animals
                                                                        welcome home.


gkn Feb. 2019

Feb. 1 in Amatlan

"Dawning knowledge, inner flame, heartfelt daring silent name,
vast expansion, focused deep, centred living Now!"

Another day has arrived in Amatlan,  I slept well last night.
Once again acoss the valley and over the mountains, the animals, the church bells,
the loud speakers, the sounds of village life greet us.
Tea and reading with my beloveds, a quiet day to reflect to be here in this place.
Our wonderful hosts are off for the day.   I want to write about this place.

I want to write about this sacred space.
I am overcome again
and again by the need to simply be
to bask in the mountain's energy.

It is difficult for me to slow down enough

 to not pick up pen and ponder, what shall I write,
how can I explain it,  what shall l say,
and I remember Billy Collins ( the US poet) saying I sit
and stare for 23 hours a day
for one hour I write
( at least that is what I remember him saying.)

It is difficult for me to slow down enough

for  words to flow over me,
to enter me, refreshing, recalibrating
to be shared sparsely,   to be held as life energy,

to live into daily
challenge and delight,

It is difficult for me to slow down enough

Another day has arrived in Amatlan.

gkn Feb. 1, 2019

Memories

with deep gratitude to Mary Oliver

poetry fills my inbox these days,

offering me gentle reminders of when
i first read wild geese or calling me to
notice the poster that hangs above
my desk, a gift in the days of
trying to remember
all the people who shared
with me the question of what I wanted to do
with my one wild and precious life.
and gave me a copies of
a summer day
and there were those who
supported  me as I strove to  live my life
to silence those voices that kept 
shouting their bad advice  until finally
i could save the only life, i (you)  could.
those who gifted me
with books, filled with stories i knew
that i wanted to know, stories of Devotion
of Dream Work  of oh so many reasons
to wake early.

But most of all I am reminded of

the day, that we were
biking through the rain, water washing our
pants and our wheels in Provincetown,

and we saw her

our poet, our hero

with her yellow raincoat and rain hat
laughing with us in the puddles,

Now  ....

I can hear you  ask, did you really see her?
and I say to you every morning the world is 
created...if it is your nature to be 
happy, you will swim away along the soft trails
...your imagination alighting everywhere. 


gkn January 2019

with quotes from Mary Oliver's poems ( Wild Geese, A Summer Day, The Journey,
                              Morning Poem)  as well as some of her book titles. 

From memories to paper and spine; next steps with my memoir

If you are reading these words,  you know or have the potential of knowing that I have been working on a memoir.   In December I sent another final draft to my editor, my wonderful, helpful, encouraging, supportive editor.

Then I took a deep breath, and another deep breath and you are right, another deep breath, and thought about who I wanted to read this piece of my soul.

Then I thought of who I did not want to read or critique or comment on my soul.  Then I took a breath and decided to have a great celebration of the holidays, and I did.  I visited many of my aunts, and did not think, too much,  about what they would think if they read my soul.

Yesterday I met with my editor, you know the one, the supportive, encouraging, wonderful editor.  The one who believes in my work,  who thinks it is important work, who wants this work to get out in the world.

If you are reading these words you have the potential to have been at a reading of some of my memoir stories,  you may have read a draft or supported me in my beginning, my middle or ... you might have been vocal in your support all the way along.  You might be one of the people who has asked how is it going?  You might have told me to keep writing.  You might have joined my editor in believing in the importance of my work.  Perhaps you have read my blogs,  commented or not, perhaps this is the first time you are reading anything I have written.

No matter what your role has been  I am asking again for your help, for your support in finding the publisher to get this piece of work to the audience that would most benefit from it.

Here are a couple exerts from my most recent final draft

Saved by Love: An Incomplete Memoir

. ..  I was in the woods.  It was filled with life.   The old hollow tree, a home I did not mind sharing during my childhood, was a sacred haven. Buttercups, trilliums and jack in the pulpits, some of whom I was certain were janes, were my companions as I explored.  Sometimes I was lucky and saw the owl, which on other days I only heard or imagined... " pg. 56

"Melanie calls me from her home at the Leaven Center.
I ask,  `Where is God?’  I say I do not believe anymore.
I say it hurts too much to believe.
She is quiet. She is calm. 
 
All those casseroles left in your freezer,   the rides to the hospital,  all the flowers, the cottages that you go to vacation at, the lunches, the offers to sit with Bonnie, to stay with me or my girls or take them to movies or skiing or…
 
"God" she says "is in all of those."   pg. 79

With much gratitude to each of you, who have read this post so far, I now bring my request.   If you know a publisher, or know someone who knows a publisher that you think would be interested in this work.   Please let me know.     

As I  learn about the world of publishing,   I am realizing it just as in the rest of life it is all about community and connection.   I look forward to your advice and assistance.  

gkn January 2019