The moon was before me, hanging pale in the night sky. She cast her light down across the mirror surface of Chocolate Lake, perfectly aimed to peak just before it reached the snow-covered shore. The brilliant whiteness was a celestial stream upon the ice-stilled water. Behind my screen I was awed.

I’ve been spending less time than usual online in the past week. I’ve had some rejuvenation I needed to undertake in solitude, but I plan to catch up on some short pieces I wish to write before long. Incomplete writings nag at me constantly, so I’ll have no rest unless I write.

Eyes For Telescopes has been one of my favourite bands for a while. From Prince Edward Island, they were one of the strongest acts here in Atlantic Canada. I was rather disappointed to learn that they have ended the band amicably after “five years, three albums and a pair of ECMA nominations.” I greatly enjoyed their first two albums and the one time I was able to see them live. This week I purchased their last album, Third, which I’ll write about soon. For now, know that it’s a thrilling rock album, lo-fi bliss.
Eyes For Telescopes arose from the ashes of Strawberry (my favourite band-no-more from this part of the world) and now other projects are emerging from Eyes. Dan Currie & Double Ought Buckshot produce roots guitar rock that will lift you up and just maybe knock you flat. Pat Deighan sends out songs of many genres, from country to roaring rock. Both have released projects already with Sandbar Music (A mighty fine group of folks also from PEI. “At Sandbar, it is still about the music, the artists, the audience, fairness and honesty.”).

The music fans among you may remember Scratching Post, a pop-metal band fronted by Nicole Hughes (I must admit to having a rather severe crush on her back in the day that may not have fully dissipated. No, I’m sure it hasn’t.) that had the hits “Master of Action,” “Bloodflame,” “Rock Past It” and “Fade Away.” With new members the band has taken on the name Minx and is sharing some blistering new tracks. You may very well be charmed and blown away by “Nothing Left To Die For” and “No One Leaves.”

Post Wodehouse.com is a facinating experiment to test the simple kindness of strangers. Run by “a sociology teacher by day, compulsive scribbler by night,” the experiment involves dropping of stamped and addressed letters in various places and seeing if someone will place it into the mail.

I plan to sign up and take part in the experiment myself on Wednesday. I’m not sure where I’ll drop the letter but I look forward to seeing if one can make it to a mail box. People of this part of the world are renowned for their kindness, so I’m hoping someone will show theirs in this simple way.

It shouldn’t surprise anyone that I’m facinated by stories of all stripes. Those of simple people living in unusual circumstances are often the most facinating. The one told in the article Pop.: 1 Plus 5,000 Volumes follows this trend well. It tells of a town with only one resident, a barkeeper-librarian, who cares for her late husband’s large collection of books which he willed be made available as a public library. The story is full of folk charm but also shares some disheartening statistics of America’s great loss of libraries.

This makes the work and generosity of men and women like Rudy and Elsie Eiler truly important to the survival of one of the most vital social institutions. Libraries keep us civilized, keep us rooted in knowledge, provide us with the stories that shape who we are and provide us with a shining beacon of egalitarianism. If you don’t drink down books your mind is bound to be thirsty and no one should be in a literary desert.

A week ago I read Bernie Glassman’s Bearing Witness: A Zen Master’s Lessons in Making Peace. Bearing Witness is at once a collection of personal accounts of bearing witness and practice and a convincing and inspiring description of ways we can work toward peace ourselves.
The first segment of the book is incredibly powerful and introduces the unconventional approach this book presents. Roshi Bernie Glassman opens his book with an account of an interfaith, intercultural bearing witness at Auschwitz-Birkenau, the site of a Nazi concentration camp where between 1,100,000 and 1,500,000 people were slaughtered in one of the world’s most horrific tragedies. Out of this mediation and coming together of 150 people of diverse and once opposed groups Glassman anticipated a healing to occur. This may seem a contradition, that acknowledging the suffering of this place, a place steeped in horrors and the remnants of the worst traits of humankind, could heal. However, through the course of this endevour a healing did take place, disarming anger of children of both camp victims and Nazi suporters, bringing together disparate faiths, forming a sense of community and altering everyone present.
Through the rest of the book Glassman details witnessing on streets, where he and other participants attempted to live as homeless would in order to deepen their understanding of suffering and deepen thier spiritual practice, a man who brought meditation and buddhism into prisons to help those in captivity and numerous other attempts at gaining peace. Indeed, this is a book rich with human stories that reveal both the hope and challenges of the human condition.
What was striking about each endevour was the sense of unknowing that Glassman stressed. One of his most admant assertions is that we must approach problems by setting aside preconceptions about what we should do, about the situation and about the way things should be. He shows that right actions often come from this openness to what actually is, from a mindset that does not anticipate change but prompts us to be proactive anyway, without expecting to be successful.
The book also told of Glassman’s work creating the Zen Peacemaker Order, an organization which emphasizes both personal and societal transformation and provides a meditational practice environment that is open to practitioners of different religious traditions. The guidelines of the order, its Three Treasures, Three Tenets, Ten Practices and Four Commitments are universally beneficial and helpful in working to create peace. We would all do well to live by these guidelines in whatever path we choose.
Bearing Witness is an excellent resource for those of us wishing to work toward change in our world, whether we wish to take on poverty, injustice, environmental damage or any number of causes of suffering we can learn from the holistic and wise approach that Bernie Glassman has shared. We can also find hope in the many accounts of change begun through modest acts of compassion. Bernie’s ability to make his work accessable to people of all faiths should make this a book that anyone can find valuable to their spiritual endevours.

This afternoon I walked to Point Pleasant Park, one of the places I treasure most in this city. In the spring and summer I visited it frequently so that I could find comfort and contemplation along the shoreline and beneath the trees of the park but I hadn’t been to it at all during the autumn and, until today, through the winter. As I walked on the rocky shore, the waves rolling onto the beach and withdrawing with the sound of rolling pebbles, I began to think on the tremendous change that has occurred in my life in my time away from the park.
The crumbling battlements I walked beneath were a reminder of the personal conflicts I survived and was reshaped by, ones that seemed as emotionally bloody as the ones anticipated by the battlement-manning soldiers would be physically. Coming to terms with the end of a long-term romantic relationship and rebuilding a life for myself after a prolonged period of overall stagnation was quite difficult for me but helped to solidify my foundation, to affirm my beliefs and temper my spirit. As surely as those walls have weathered with resiliancy, I’ve come out of the past six months forever changed.

A couple nights ago I was pointed to a wonderful radio program, The House on Loon Lake, an archived broadcast from the public radio series This American Life. This American Life is a show that features interesting real life accounts from people across America each week, a journalism of the personal and eccentric. I haven’t listened to any other shows from the series (they’re standalone broadcasts), but this one was really engaging and moving. The House on Loon Lake told the story of a young boy who discovered a house that had been abandoned without any of the residents’ belongings removed. There were letters, furniture and many personal, one would think sentimentally valuable, objects. Over decades the mystery of the house and its former owners is unravelled and reveals a facinating, surprising and intimate look at one rural family through what it left behind.

I have never encountered a radio program of this quality before. The storytelling is done remarkably well, with the heartfelt account of Adam’s mother being a certain highlight. I was so impressed with the power of this recording that I have listened to it several times already and will likely return to it in the future. In no small part my love for found items and intimate glimpses into the lives of others fueled my enjoyment of this, but even disregarding that bias it’s a superb spoken word piece. I’m confident you’ll be drawn into the story if you take the time to listen to it.

I’ve mentioned my admiration for the author of Baghdad Burning before and I want to share with you something she wrote recently about the conditions in Iraq now that it has fallen from being a secular state. In the entry “And Life Goes On…” she writes about a personal experience she had with government officials that demonstrates oppression that has arisen out of the ashes of Iraq.

We must be mindful of all these negative aspects of war if we are to work well to prevent them. No good can come from violence, at best only the transference of suffering and we must recognize this and help others to understand it if we are to prevent future wars. So many lives are at stake in the conflicts of the world and actions as reckless as those the Bush adminsitration has been promoting are dire symptoms of a great apathy and ignorance toward the suffering of others. We are all of one life and it’s time we started living according to that truth.

Wednesday night I went with my friend Nathan to see Khyentse Norbu’s Travellers and Magicians, a film I first read about in a WorldChanging.com article. I learned there of a film made by a holy man and was very intrigued by this.

I went into the film with high expectations and curiosity. I was surprised but not disappointed in the least.

Travellers and Magicians is a Bhutanese film exploring “the bitter and the sweet of temporary things,” emphasizing the need to forego momentary pleasure for greater reward in the future. There were two theme-related narratives woven well to form the movie. The main plot focused on a young Butanese man who longed to move to America, his dreamland, and was undertaking a journey to make that possible. The second story was a beautiful fable told in segments by a monk who travelled with the America-bound man.
Bhutan is a beautiful and remote nation (until the 1960′s Bhutan had no currency, roads, electricity, phones, schools, hospitals, postal services or western visitors) and this is displayed clearly in this work. Rural roads, small villages and vast expanses of prestine, gorgeous landscapes showcase a land of simple pleasures that one can’t help but long for. I’d gladly take Bhutan’s beautiful landscape over dreamland-America.
The fable showcased an amazing natural splendor, unspoiled land as far as the eye could see, and the beauty of each aspect of it was striking. The colors and overall look of the fable segment were heightened in a very effective way, giving it the appearance of the vibrancy our imaginations can conjure up under the guidance of a master storyteller’s words.

The film was steeped in a sense of cultural difference that perhaps most of us in the west do not grasp well. The humour was often subtle, but I enjoyed it very much. A lot of it carried what I’ve come to expect from Buddhist humour, a playfulness aimed to instruct and disrupt discontent. Also, the pacing was slower than what most of us expect in films. This was noticible but not detrimental in my opinion. The easy pace seemed a natural fit with all elements of the film, especially highlighting the protagonist’s frustration at possibly being late for an appointment that could lead to his departure for America.
Overall, the film was excellent. There were some moments where the production was noticibly not up to Hollywood standards, but these were few and more quint than distracting. Do yourself a favour and see it in theatres if you have the chance, as it’s an enchanting, well made and enriching film with a wonderful sentiment.

Derek Kirk Kim of LowBright is one of my favourite comics writer-artists. Same Difference & Other Stories, his first published collection, is an excellent read, one of the best of the past few years. In honour of Valentine’s Day, I’d like to point you toward his short comic Valentine’s Day, a bit of sardonic humour for those of us without a significant other this year or distaste for the commercial holiday. If a more heartfelt exploration of love is what you’d like to read, you can find Same Difference in full on his site.

I’m a book lover. Books have always been important to me as sources of truth, enrichers of my life. Libraries were magical places when I was a child, and the book mobile (a bus that housed a mobile library collection and travelled throughout the rural areas of the county I grew up in) was as fantastic to me as a travelling circus or a band of minstrels ever could be. I’d take home bags of books, rationing them over a week, slowly drinking in the words, finding mysteries and adventures.
The numbers on the books’ spines facinated me. I couldn’t decode them so I let my imagination concoct reasons for them. I invented secret numerologies and decided there must be something in the numbers to tell me which books would bore me and which would thrill me.
Now that I’ve been able to look into the Dewey Decimal Classification System, I still find a great interest in those numbers and the bias they hold. Look at the numbering of the religion portion and you’ll see what I mean.

Some time ago I came across a blog called Karmic Delusion. Today there’s one entry, “Impermanent Relationships“, I find quite appropriate for Valentine’s Day and I’d like to share some of it.

On a day supposedly dedicated to love, isn’t it important to recognize the importance of evolving relationships, of the need to be open to changes in the forms our love takes on?

While waiting in line at a grocery store checkout tonight I had an humorous exchange. Ahead of me in the line was an older couple and a second cashier stood behind them talking with them and the on-duty cashier, carrying on a lively conversation about the woman’s upcoming (or it may have been just past) birthday. As the couple was finishing up their transaction the woman turned to me and, in an excited voice said, “Oh my! What gorgeous red hair! Do you dye it?”
“No, it’s natural,” I replied.
“My first boyfriend had red hair,” she exclaimed, her voice rising with glee, or romantic nostalgia, “It always takes me…”
The cashiers and I had quite a good laugh as she wistfully trailed off into some odd sort of passion. She commented that I must be having a party, since I was buying a couple big bags of Crispy Minis and shared mock-admonishing tsk, tsks before she moved off with her husband. Leaving the store, I smiled at the lady as I passed, she waiting with a cart for her husband to bring the car near the exit.

For a while now I’ve been trying to figure out who someone reminds me of. One of the girls who works at the corner store I frequent has always seemed somehow familiar to me but not in a way I could recognize. A few nights ago we introduced ourselves as I was checking out and after that she said, “Well, I’m happy to serve you with your juice and chips.” (I had rice chips and apple juice.) Though her appearance is quite different, the way she said it held the same half-mad tone and manner I associate with Tori Amos. While walking to the hotel I was bemused by the odd connection.

Tonight I went to a free showing of Ong-Bak with my longtime friend Sascha. The film’s made up of top notch martial arts action and a good dose of humour. The stunts were apparantly all done without doubles and they stand up to the best you’ll find in any other film. Among the highlights was a prolonged three-wheeled taxi chase scene. The plot was weak, as is standard in action films, but if you enjoy martial arts cinematography then you’ll likely enjoy this one.

In the less general interest aspect of my life, my younger sister Ilea has become engaged to her boyfriend (now fianc?). I’m very happy for the two of them. There was little doubt they’d end up at this point, but I was a bit surprised that Greg would choose tonight to propose to her. I suppose Valentine’s day would be too clich?.
I feel partly ancient, old maid-like. My little sister is engaged. I remember back in the day when she was only crushing after boy bands and that guy from Boy Meets World. Time flies.

Craig Thompson’s Blankets is the most moving graphic novel I’ve ever read and one of the strongest stories of any medium I’ve been lucky enough to experience. When I bought his first book, Good-Bye, Chunky Rice on Thursday I had rather high expectations but opened the cover knowing it had the potential to be a lesser, quite different book.

Good-Bye, Chunky Rice turned out to be a wonderful exploration of being far from the people we love, though in a quite different way from Blankets. Chunky Rice is a small turtle who has followed wanderlust onto a sea journey that takes him away from his love Dandel, a mouse. On his way to the ship he’ll travel on and once on aboard it, Chunky encounters other characters feeling the loss of and distance from people they love, each possessing a sense of sorrow and a complex personal struggle. Soloman, a roommate of Chunky and brother of the ship’s captain, for instance had a harsh childhood and seeks a relationship he lost with his brother as well as any sort of friendship he can find.
The art of this story is quite cartoon-like, at times sweetly tender and at others jarring and stark. Dialogue is minimal within these pages but there’s no sense of it being lacking because the illustrations are rich with emotion and narrative motion. Through coincidence or plan, the pair most in love, Chunky and Dandel, are also the most beautiful and tenderly rendered. Dandel’s release of bottle messages for Chunky provide the most moving moments in the story, in part because of her fragile appearance and large, glossy eyes.
Good-Bye, Chunky Rice isn’t Blankets, but few stories can hold that kind of magic. This is still a wonderful story in its own right, full of the wonder of fables and the emotional impact that graphic novels, being the hybrids they are, can impart. If you’re far away from a dear friend or anyone else you love, this book will touch you.

Romance is a night on a frozen lake, letting the ice melt beneath us and counting reflected glimmers cast down by moon and stars.

Romance is an afternoon by a river eating dried apple slices and creating stories for the trees on the opposite bank.
Romance is awkward dancing before the end of the world, falling to the grass and laughing at the fullness of life.
Romance is fallen tears on a bed of leaves, sparks from a campfire and four lives interwoven beneath a starless night sky.
Romance is vanilla on our tongues, summer shade on our bodies and wind licking our limbs.
Romance is ever-walking through starlight with the ones you love, hands held and eyes soft-lit by Vulpecula and Lyra.
Romance is a stolen moment on a couch, with sugary tongues and reaching fingers, drinking flavours of all the world’s real lovers.

Today I said goodbye to a pair of dear friends. Those boots, which were with me for so much in the past couple years, had become very worn, riddled with holes. While they still held out the damp and cold of the winter, it was time to part with them before they fell apart, to find some new companions for the coming leagues of my life. I decided on a pair of shoes that are a bit less rugged, but that will do well enough until I can find a match more suited to hiking through the wilderness before me.

I saw two films today, House of Flying Daggers and Million Dollar Baby. House of Flying Daggers was a terrific blend of action, romance and some of the most beautiful cinematography ever put to film. If you liked Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and wished for a story with more emotonal depth, this is your answer. Million Dollar Baby is not just a boxing film, it’s a finely crafted drama that touches on important themes of mentorship, family and loss. The latter third of the film is incredibly moving, a surprisingly authentic struggle. If you can handle a bit of blood you’ll be rewarded with fine acting and moments that will inspire sadness and hope.

Wikipes is a promising new site that presents a community-contributed collection of recipies based on the wiki format, allowing anyone to submit recipes as well as add to and comment upon existing ones. It’s a project I believe could become a resource that a wide range of people would find useful. I’m hoping the non-alcoholic drinks portion will expand soon. Throw some of your own favourites up there.

The Doe Girl I described in my previous entry was someone I observed while travelling on a bus last week. Watching her plight, the doe metaphor came naturally because of her movements and the deer-like features of her face, her nose especially. I was curious about what was causing her anxiety and felt compassion for whatever she was suffering. Unknown pain can often be the hardest to offer comfort for, and of course we’ve all been condtioned to not offer comfort to strangers. I felt compelled to offer something, but my mind failed me until we arrived at my stop.

One of the brightest spots in the blogsphere is WorldChanging.com. WorldChanging offers reviews of links dealing with technology and how it can be used positively and integrally to better the world.

This core, noble philosophy is one we’d all do well to adopt, to take active interest in creating the communities that can breed change, not just technology-based change. WorldChanging has a rather broad focus, on environmentalism, social issues and sustainability notably. If you’re at all interested in progressive change, this is one site at which you can begin.

Among the articles at WorldChanging I came across a review of Robert Neuwirth’s Shadow Cities and his blog Squattercity. The book and blog focus on the topic of squatting communities, communities that are the home to a billion people across the world.

From the review I gather he also shares the history of squatting and takes on property ownership. I’m looking forward to picking up the book and reading it firsthand, as community and poverty (specifically building and combatting them respectively) are both topics I am deeply interested in.