gustav klimpt
Saturday, 29 December 2007
Thursday, 27 December 2007
about A man
addendum:
A Fed-Ex package arrived at my door this morning. The contents clanged about, the familiar sound of baoding balls ringing ying & yang against my chest as I signed the messenger's doo-dad thingy...but why was I receiving these balls and who had sent them?
Several days ago, I began rolling my phoenix & dragon painted baoding balls around my fingers for the first time in years, waking up with sore hands in the morning and not immediately understanding why. And for several days now, I have been wishing these baoding balls were unpainted. You see, the mere metal ones I call Chi balls, for if one's Chi is balanced, the balls will -with ease- stand one upon the other. Thumb and index finger will keep them in place, as long as one is not trying. If I force them together they will fall.
So I received some Chi balls today. They were from A man. I don't know how he found me but he did. And the attached letter made clear that he had in fact recognized himself...He is also looking for Chi, ying for yang so it would seem . How can I deny forgiveness to A man with balls of steel?
A Fed-Ex package arrived at my door this morning. The contents clanged about, the familiar sound of baoding balls ringing ying & yang against my chest as I signed the messenger's doo-dad thingy...but why was I receiving these balls and who had sent them?
Several days ago, I began rolling my phoenix & dragon painted baoding balls around my fingers for the first time in years, waking up with sore hands in the morning and not immediately understanding why. And for several days now, I have been wishing these baoding balls were unpainted. You see, the mere metal ones I call Chi balls, for if one's Chi is balanced, the balls will -with ease- stand one upon the other. Thumb and index finger will keep them in place, as long as one is not trying. If I force them together they will fall.
So I received some Chi balls today. They were from A man. I don't know how he found me but he did. And the attached letter made clear that he had in fact recognized himself...He is also looking for Chi, ying for yang so it would seem . How can I deny forgiveness to A man with balls of steel?
Just Another Word
the last chapter:
Neither man moved. Moyad stood behind Illaam and the two cousins peered at each other in the looking glass, time suspended in the parallel universe. “You know I don’t want to hurt you, Illaam.”
Despite the words of the motionless man, Illaam saw that Moyad held a needle in his hand. “Why?” His cousin turned slowly, feeling somewhere between hopelessness and determination, “What happened to you, Moyad, to change your heart so? We used to believe in the same God, once.”
“We were only boys then. I am a man now. Truth has many faces. ”
“It is the evil that lives in some men’s hearts, like those that killed your parents, Moyad. How could you avenge their death on a country? This is not Allah’s wish.” Illaam saw a flicker of pain and hesitation in the eyes of the man he once knew and loved.
“What do you know about Allah’s wish? You still have your head in the clouds, still just a boy.”
The needle rose then. Surprising Moyad, Illaam deftly slid his body beneath the other man’s arm and Moyad slipped on the sanitary tiles, which allowed Illaam to escape.
Uncertainty no longer reigned. He knew what was in his heart and he knew he must follow his own truth. Someone had to be warned of the plans Moyad and his friends were about to play out. To live knowing he may have saved lives and didn’t, was an unbearable thought to Illaam. The wire beneath his tiny bird feet widened and Illaam ran as fast as the little boy in the bazaar those many years ago.
When the station came into view, Illaam could breathe. He saw with new eyes and the clarity with which he saw dispelled his fear. When he blinked, the bazaar was still vivid behind his lids, the spices calling him with the smell of heaven. But the sound of his grandfather’s voice was drowned by an echo he couldn’t make out.
Illaam fell to the ground before he could make sense of the sound. He did not see the blood, could not see the red pool forming a halo on the concrete around his head.
Neither man moved. Moyad stood behind Illaam and the two cousins peered at each other in the looking glass, time suspended in the parallel universe. “You know I don’t want to hurt you, Illaam.”
Despite the words of the motionless man, Illaam saw that Moyad held a needle in his hand. “Why?” His cousin turned slowly, feeling somewhere between hopelessness and determination, “What happened to you, Moyad, to change your heart so? We used to believe in the same God, once.”
“We were only boys then. I am a man now. Truth has many faces. ”
“It is the evil that lives in some men’s hearts, like those that killed your parents, Moyad. How could you avenge their death on a country? This is not Allah’s wish.” Illaam saw a flicker of pain and hesitation in the eyes of the man he once knew and loved.
“What do you know about Allah’s wish? You still have your head in the clouds, still just a boy.”
The needle rose then. Surprising Moyad, Illaam deftly slid his body beneath the other man’s arm and Moyad slipped on the sanitary tiles, which allowed Illaam to escape.
Uncertainty no longer reigned. He knew what was in his heart and he knew he must follow his own truth. Someone had to be warned of the plans Moyad and his friends were about to play out. To live knowing he may have saved lives and didn’t, was an unbearable thought to Illaam. The wire beneath his tiny bird feet widened and Illaam ran as fast as the little boy in the bazaar those many years ago.
When the station came into view, Illaam could breathe. He saw with new eyes and the clarity with which he saw dispelled his fear. When he blinked, the bazaar was still vivid behind his lids, the spices calling him with the smell of heaven. But the sound of his grandfather’s voice was drowned by an echo he couldn’t make out.
Illaam fell to the ground before he could make sense of the sound. He did not see the blood, could not see the red pool forming a halo on the concrete around his head.
Monday, 24 December 2007
Words that have influenced me in 2007:
____________________________________
Marie-Louise Gay
Stella Star of the Sea
Travels With My Family
Frieda Wishinsky
A Bee in Your Ear
A Noodle Up Your Nose
Each One Special
Cary Fagan
My New Shirt
Ten Old Men and a Mouse
Directed by Kaspar Snit
Evelyn Daigle
Les Saisons des Manchots
The World of Penguins
France Adams
Les Étrangers
Roch Carrier
The Hockey Sweater
La Chasse-gallerie
Emily Pohl-Weary
Strange Times at Western High
Susan Juby
Another Kind of Cowboy
Alice Kuipers
Life on the Refrigerator Door
Paul Yee
The Jade Necklace
Bamboo
A Song for Ba
The Bone Collector`s Son
Anita Daher
Two Foot Punch
Maxine Trottier
Two Songs for Courage
Heather Waldorf
Grist
José Saramago
The Tale of the Unknown Island
Susan Coyle
Kingfisher Days
Robert M. Pirsig
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
Polly Washburn
Wilderness
Ward Just
Forgetfulness
Miriam Toews
A Complicated Kindness
Yann Martel
Self
Monique Jeannotte
Le Vent n’a pas d’écho
Guy de Maupassant
Le Horla
René Descartes
Discourse on Method
La Fontaine
Fables
Manuel/Cervantes, etal
Cuentos Españoles
Paul Woodruff
Reverence
M. Scott Peck
The Road Less Travelled
Caple/Berry
The Notebooks
Douglas Glover
The Enamoured Knight
Miguel de Cervantes
La fuerza de la sangre
Don Quixote, as yet unfinished
Stephen King
On Writing
Janet Burroway
Writing Fiction
Strunk and White
The Elements of Style
Sheridan Baker
The Practical Stylist
Julia Cameron
The Artist’s Way (a never-ending read)
The Vein of Gold “ “
The Right to Write “ “
Robert Allen
A Thousand Paths to Zen
- Margaret Atwood, Ariel Gordon, Pablo Neruda, P.C. Miller: selected poems
- Slam Poetry at The Cyrk!
- Art: Andy Warhol Men
- Plays & biographies put into action
- Literacy: Writing Out Loud, and of course all of the students’ stories, some fiction, most of them non-fiction
- Stories and story-telling from my writers group
...Et Eric et moi, nous lisons les aventures de Caillou et de Benjamin, des chapeaux et des bateaux, des animaux et... de la lune et des étoiles : -)
____________________________________
Thursday, 13 December 2007
summer
Green. The colour of summer. The grass beneath my feet, between my toes, cool and spongy and winter boots but a distant memory despite the long wait for the green season. I close my eyes and breath in the sun which passes through me right down to my toes. The result: my lower digits wiggle with glee, sending a smile up to my lips. Elation.
There’s a place I call my own (though I’ve been fortunate that the elusive owners have never dropped in on a whim) where I remove my articles of clothing one by one and lay naked on the prairie grass by the brook. I tell myself it’s only fair that my toes not selfishly delight in so much pleasure. The corporeal area not forming a figure in the vegetation receives the unparalleled pleasure of the summer breeze, every peak and valley experiencing invisible ecstasy.
Buried in the big white, I dream of green...
There’s a place I call my own (though I’ve been fortunate that the elusive owners have never dropped in on a whim) where I remove my articles of clothing one by one and lay naked on the prairie grass by the brook. I tell myself it’s only fair that my toes not selfishly delight in so much pleasure. The corporeal area not forming a figure in the vegetation receives the unparalleled pleasure of the summer breeze, every peak and valley experiencing invisible ecstasy.
Buried in the big white, I dream of green...
Tuesday, 11 December 2007
pneumonia
Her little brother had died of pneumonia. Six years old. The doctor said it was that virus everyone had been getting that Fall, that he would start getting better soon. But he didn’t, and by Winter the downward spiral had begun and no one could stop it. She sat by his side, all nine years of her, afraid to touch him for fear she might also die. When he breathed his last breath though, none of that mattered and she threw herself on him, sobbing uncontrollably. She wanted to die too; she wanted to be with him then because she knew he was afraid of the dark. Her parents pulled her off eventually but a piece of Meagan stayed there with him for the remainder of her natural life.
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