On Days Like This...

It's raining again and the grayness, cold and wet are all around me. When I look out my window, I shiver and wonder who would relish in tramping outside on a day like today.

Then, faintly a gray image of a day like today, years ago comes to mind. I recall walking in the early morn along train tracks with a friend. We were cold and thankful we had our coats on. I remember folding my fingers in the sleeves of my coat and wishing that my nose would regain feeling. It was a pleasant morning in White Rock despite the weather, no one was out on the street or down on the beach yet. It was so quiet except for the quiet rushing of the ocean, the crunching of our feet on the tracks and our hushed voices. We talked of many things; friendship, religion, love, flowers, future plans and time. I don't remember what else. I just remember that it was a meeting of minds in an environment that promoted thoughts and feelings being said. Coming away, I always thought of my friend as a kindred spirit and a great conversationalist.

Another memory comes to mind after I look out my window, sigh and take another sip of my cider. I remember being forced to go for a walk/hike on a day that very soon became ominously black and began to rain. You'd think that the rain and cold would make us head back to our car and go home to a comfort and warmth not immediately known in the woods. Fortunately, we were under the canopy of the tall trees and the rain hit us very gently. We continued on and were treated to a experience that I have tried to recapture many times. The air slightly chilled with a cool mist that invigorated our lungs and our hike turned into an adventure of ethereal wonderment.

Sights that seemed ordinary took on a look of magical realness. The forest soil made dark with decaying wood smelled wonderfully fragrant. Small flowers and fungi that clung to ancient tree trunks seemed to open up and grow before us. Curling new ferns, neon green to the dark emerald green of the fully grown reached out for the rain to take a drink. Moss of every sort on the trees and forest floor added a delightful display of colour. Our path crossed with roots of trees reaching for the sky. And all being covered with a dewy mist that got caught in every leaf, flower and blade of grass it found. Everything looked like it was veiled in tiny diamonds. I don't know if anyone remembers this day, but I do know that on that day we moved through the forest quietly, silently awed by the beauty around us.

I guess every once and a while I need to remind myself that the rain a good backdrop for many, many precious memories.

What do you do for a living?

I never know what to ask someone I meet for the first time at a party, office or coffee shop. Convention has us repeat those etched in stone questions...What do you do for a living? Are you going to school? Do you have family around here? Where do you live? I know that I tend to zone out when asked these questions and wish that I was asked something real.

These questions always seem to be the death of a conversation. I never learn much about the person and I realize very quickly that they feel the same way about our conversation. I think we would both enjoy getting to know each other much more if they asked about my favourite childhood memory and while I inquired into their most prolific experience as an adult.

Again convention gets the better of me and I never do this...I choose a halfway measure. My questions tend to be along the lines of What's your favourite balloon shaped animal? Favourite time of day? It seems to be a great icebreaker, though most people are startled for a moment. They blink at me and wonder if I am a spook and/or completely off my rocker. More often than not they decide that I'm a perfectly normal looking harmless person and laugh with me.
Our conversation goes on swimmingly with uniquely strange questions that we come up with together. We end up learning obscure and fun facts about each other and going away thinking that the other person was delightful.

So! What's your favourite ice cream memory moment?

The genius of Vermeer... 

Commerical Slavery

I have been troubled of late of the history of The United States and of England.
Knowing that these countries were either built on and/or sustained for several hundred years on the backs of African men, women and children makes me ashamed. Ashamed that some of the wealthiest and most respected families made others into chattel and justified it to the world. They got away with it too. Some say that this is all in the past and as a society we say, 'Look how much has changed! All men are free.' But, my conscious is pricked. We are not all free, many people of the world work for large companies and corporations in conditions that very few 'first world' citizens would tolerate. The few still profit from the many.

Slavery is NOT gone. It is very much alive and well and we condone it everyday with everyday used items. That cheap shirt, that deal on a piece of furniture and those dollarstore items that are so much more inexpensive than at the grocery store. Where do you think these cute, cheap figurines and pretty decorations come from? Most are made in countries with men, women and children too impoverished to afford that great steal at the dollar store.

I am also troubled that I too, am responsible for this indentured servitude. Perhaps not in the way that the Slave owners and traders were, but my position in the link of chains that keep my fellow man shackled is undeniable. I think of those products that I use everyday. I shutter to think that with my consumption, people must work for low pay, inhumane conditions and long hours so that I can have sugar, that toy or pair of jeans.

Why is it that because it is in a country other than our own it seems to be alright or of little concern to the average person. I despair over this 'Me first' mentality and if you are not connected to me, what do I care about you and yours? I fight against this ideology, but sometimes I wonder if I'm fighting a losing battle. I try to make informed purchases and stay away from products and companies that I have concerns about. Yet, can one person in a sea of commerical greediness do anything more than lose their voice in the deafening crash of 'first world' consumerism.