Cherry St. Storage

photo credit: Anders Ljungberg

I wish there was an event that brought every human on the planet to a pause together.  A holiday giving cause for every living being to  stand still and witness the silence together.  I think that December holidays, be it Christmas, or Hannukah, or Kwanzaa, or the Winter Solstice, bring us close to that moment – I can always feel the potential in these days for momentary unity, and the awesome power that union holds.

Only, we are dispersed…by time zones, by beliefs, by priorities, by stigma, by language and needs and wants and fear.  Our hands may reach to family and friends, and in that small group we may find peace and joy, but the larger group, our species as a whole, won’t share that feeling as one.

And so, I ask of each of you this holiday season, whether you are with family, with friends, or alone: stop and think of the lives your presence intersects.  Think of the memories of you that reside in them, and how your life adds colour to theirs.  And think how they, in turn, bring your presence to the lives they touch, in that six degrees of seperation of which we’ve heard so much.  In this time of the year, when so many come together in celebration, think of how far, however diluted, your grasp and influence actually reach.  We will, in fact, be joined as one: we need only lift up to see the vast ocean of unity that surrounds us.  And in that unity is the power to transcend all of which our seperate lives find insurmountable.

That is my wish.  I will continue to wish it, each Christmas time, knowing that regardless of faith, what focus this month brings us all.  For me, it is not about the famous birth, or the temple and lantern oil, or the midwinter ritual – it is the intersection of all these events that gives us access to immense potential.  A potential to stop and see each other, and finally find room for peace.

Happy Holidays!

photo credit: Richard0

Loneliness

It comes in the oddest of places

It comes when I need to be alone

There’s a solace in quiet, and a place that no one knows

but me

A feeling that can’t be touched, unless it is alone to feel

And yet, from solace there is the longing

To be loved, to be held, to be cherished, to be made

To feel that I’m the One amongst many

I can’t explain what it is that feels the need to hide, in order to express its need to be seen

Only that it smiles when it has time for that secret room, where magic and peace reside

A peace that dissolves, one particle at a time, when I realize that an empty room is as hollow as it sounds

And so I remain, trapped in this paradox that is my centre

To live day after day, pulled from silence to sound, running to hide only to find fear in the dark

I am alone, and yet, I am sure there is one,

That someday, somehow, will bring me new life

To touch, finally, that place in my heart

that so desperately needs to be joined

To heal, then to smile

Then to sleep

From the blog 'Alphonsus's Written Word' - read the poem by clicking the picture

It seems self-serving to vent in public.  And it gets a little tiresome, I know.  But I’ll vent anyway, because someone out there may read this and agree, and feel grateful they are not alone, like I feel I am right now.

I am afraid…afraid of so many things.  Afraid of facing work.  Afraid of facing people.   Afraid of taking action.  Afraid of failure (and maybe success).  Afraid of people that aren’t afraid.  Afraid of the pace.  Afraid of the noise.  Afraid of rejection.  So afraid…

And I mad.  Mad at the human race.  Mad we have a ruling class.  Mad at the race we are conditioned to run. Mad at the glorification of wealth.  Mad at the loss of patience. Mad at the loss of common sense.  Mad at the loss of charity.  Mad at greed.  Mad at corporate myopia.  Mad at social myopia.  Mad at those that think it’s all so exciting.   So mad…

And I’m feeling hopeless.  I feel like an alien that does not speak the language, or understand the customs.  I stand back and stare and all I see is a giant aluminum mountain that I will never be able to scale.  I watch the world whizz by and all I catch are flashes of images.  I don’t live here anymore – I’ve been shut out.  It’s someone else’s club, and I’m not going to be a member.  Ever.

So…this is the 21st century.  I remember dreaming about whether I’d live this long to see it for myself – it all seemed so far-fetched back then in the 70s.  How could I know that people are idiots here?  Life is about consumption here?  That sanity lies only in rare pockets you search for?  That mainstream is a polluted river of bilge?

What I’d really like?  I’d like the stock markets to really crash hard, and take all those that got rich by making money on money down to the bottom.  I’d like the poor to crush all the top-tier executives – maybe that would shake greed out of our genes.  I’d like a really fucking impressive natural disaster to weed out all those self-centered, possession-hungry “I’m the majority” voters – they can’t be smart enough to deal with it.  Really, what I wish for, is someone to make the entire f-ing planet stop in its tracks and teach it peace and serenity and sanity.  I’m secretly hoping the Mayans have it right and we’re done for soon.

All I can say right now is I want out.  I like the planet a lot, but I’m done with this weed called ‘human’.  It’s choking out all the good things that live here, and I’m sick of its smell.  It’s not lost on me that I’ve just condemned myself in that thought, since I am part of that species.  All the same…I want out.

Fear + Anger + Hopelessness.  Not the equation that any Oprah-wannabe would think we’ve written, but that’s what I see.  And, honestly, it don’t add up to much.

Mahalo.

photo credit: abcdz2000

I am not a religious person.  That is to say, I don’t attend a church, or count myself among the followers of any particular  religion.  I wouldn’t say that I don’t have a faith, because I do believe in something that is greater than the sum of the parts – call it higher conciousness, cosmic ether, magic – whatever.  And I have to admit that I have taken to heart lessons learned from many religions, West and East.

I was inspired to write this idea down this because of a segment on “CBS Sunday Morning” about forgiveness, drawn from the message of Jesus on the cross and the fact that it was Easter Sunday.  The segment asked a panel of experts from various religions how the theme was played out in their worlds.  It made me stop to think (again) about all those religions and what they were saying.

So here’s the thing – is it really heresy to say that all religions are essentially different permutations of the same idea?  I’m sure the answer from many would be, ‘Uh, yea!”.  The last time I floated that idea, the person I said it to was so engulfed in rage, I left a dinner party early.

But I look at what religions teach (no scholar here, but I read..), and the seminal figures from some of the bigger groups – Buddha, Mohammed and Jesus come to mind: in their own way and language, they all teach about love, forgiveness, tolerance, and self-worth.  They may travel different routes to get there, but the destination is (to me, that is) always the same.  I am amazed by the Christian Bible alone – regardless of who you consider to be its author, it is an amazingly powerful document, so adaptable to the moment, so dynamic in its meaning (and so easily dismissed as dogma).

I have to wonder, then…what if humans put aside their bigotry and brought their faiths together?  What would happen if the Buddhists were informed by the Christians, the Muslims by the Jewish faith, the Hindus by the Buddhists, and so on?  It’s not to say that each put aside their beliefs…I just wonder how each would grow if they looked at each other with faith and humility and accept what could be a grand cross-pollination.  What would happen to religious zealotry if each group looked at the other and said, ‘oh yea – we all want the same thing’.  I doubt it could ever happen, since it seems like religions tend to slide into matters of personal opinion once they’ve been handled enough by humans.  But what if…?

Maybe that’s my faith – how ever it is packaged, whatever you want to call it, there is more to life than the sum of its parts.  I can’t see it, or measure it, but I know its there around me.

And in my weakest moments, it is my strength.

Mahalo.

photo credit: Edgar Zuniga Jr.

In New York City, it is said that you can always spot a tourist – they’re the ones that are looking up.  True New Yorkers don’t look up, and I think I know why.  There is so much New York City, it’s too much to carry everyday – New Yorkers know that to preserve themselves; they take in what they need to take in.  You look down, you head out, you get to the it you need, and you head home.

And it’s pretty similar in most major cities, including mine – Toronto.  You head out, you look down, you get to work (friend’s place, hangout), you do your thing, and then you head home – head down again ’til you’re through the door.

So, I had to stop and think one afternoon this week, when a flock of pigeons took off in front of me and circled en masse into the air.  I followed them up and found myself looking up in a brilliant afternoon sky – one that I thought I knew, but had obviously neglected.  And it wasn’t just that I was looking at the sky – that motion of lifting my head and looking up had lifted me up and out of myself.  Staring at the sidewalk moments before, I was in my day – frustrated at the frustrations, worried about the worries, laughing at the funny bits, and waiting for quitting time.  Head up and marvelling at the blue and white above me, it suddenly all fell away.  I was released into the freedom of nature, and awed by the breadth and depth of the world surrounding me.  The crises and quibbles that seemed most important were suddenly trivial, and the planet was smiling at me.  And, strangely enough, I felt more of me come alive that moment, then all the self-reflection I had going on moments before.

I do look often at the night sky, staring with hope at the stars above, wondering if I can ever fathom the enormity of it all.  But the day’s sky, neglected no longer – if only to look up and remember that there is more to life than daily human pursuits.  There’s a planet here still welcoming us warmly, and if only to be polite, we should smile back in gratitude.

Here, then, is my wish – now more than ever, when everything and everyone seems to be looking down, literally and figuratively – look up.  You’ll see – to look up is to look out, and to look out is to look in.

Peace.

Photo by Ron Sachs-Pool/Getty Images

So much has been said already.  I don’t pretend to think that my words will touch on anything new.  I just have to say – of all the images of history I have seen in my lifetime, few touch my heart and soul like seeing Barack and Michelle Obama together on his Inauguration Day.  A stunning, strong, confident woman, walking hand-in-hand with her husband – the man about to take on America as his job – walking as equal partner, sharing the love and adoration of their country and each other with pride and humility.  They are the image of what a couple can be.  Let them be the inspiration for the world over, and that their days ahead be bright and clear and numerous.  Mahalo, Michelle.  Mahalo, Barack.  E pili mau na pomaika`i ia `oe

photo credit: bionicteaching

This week, it’s been hovering around -20C in my city.  Not a great week to be walking outside.  So, it was with distinct pain that I discovered Friday night, steps from my home, after a long week at work, that I had lost my house keys.  They were attached to a carabiner that attached to a belt loop on my pants – well, they were until somewhere along the way home – my face blanched when I reached for them and felt only the cheap metal of the carabiner alone hanging there.

So, freezing already, and an hour late for dinner, I started back – retracing my steps from the front door through the dark snowy night, keeping my eyes peeled – back to the streetcar stop (is that it?!  nope…just a gum wrapper..damn).  I realized when I’d found nothing, I would have to keep going – I wouldn’t be able to face the weekend knowing I hadn’t looked everywhere.  I kept going – my legs started to cramp from the relentless cold wind blowing, and my eyes were watering while I kept scanning the sidewalks.  Back to the subway (25 mins), back through the back alley, past Starbucks, back up to my workplace (2o mins), back to my desk at work – always with quick gulps of anticipation when I spotted something in the slush and gloom, always followed by the deepening crush of misery as it turned out to be a gum wrapper, a cigarette remnant, a beer bottle (what was that doing there) – in short,   nothing.

On the way home, misery became anguish – what was I going to do?  My bike lock key was on that ring, and now my bike would be forever prisoner in the downstairs bike room.  What if I’d gone right past it, rushing because I was cold – maybe I should go back one more time?  What if someone had turned them into a security desk (store front, apartment concierge, hotel bus boy) – I’ d never find them then.  Why was this happening to me on  Friday night, at the start of my weekend?  Why was this happening to me at all?  I sat stewing on the subway back downtown, tired now, and anguish was now turning slowly into tears.  I fought it back with a paranoia that feelings would beget truth – I had to remain hopeful – and I plead a silent plea to the unknown to help me somehow.

Up from the subway back into the cold, I started tracing again – less hopeful, but still determined.  And, suddenly, out of the dark – there they were!  Someone had spotted my keys on the sidewalk and had carefully place them on a window ledge of a drug store.  It was a thin ledge, barely room enough to hold them, and at one of the busiest corners in the city.  I couldn’t believe I’d looked down at the right time in the right place, and now I was holding my hope in my hand.  I was so shocked, so relieved, and so amazed, that I had to look at them more than a few times to believe it.  I wanted to laugh, and cry, and run, and yell my relief!

I had lost my keys – and I had found hope.  Hope that there were people out there that did good things still.  Someone I didn’t know took a second to place my keys somewhere where I’d find them again.  Someone who knew that if they turned them in I wouldn’t find them.  Someone who realized that placing them somewhere close to the ground but out of harm’s way would make the chance of me finding them that much better.  Someone who chose to help, rather than ignore the opportunity, or worse, kick them into the gutter.

So, to that someone out there that found my keys and helped me find them, I say ‘thank you’ from the bottom of my heart.  Whoever you are, I hope you are as blessed as you made me feel with your small act.  And perhaps, if we are all connected in the cosmic ether, I will be able to return the favour someday, some how.  Until then, this is my tribute to you.   Thank you.

Yea, I know.  Another blog.  But, here I am anyway.  Here because a co-worker had a dream that I would be writing.  She saw me working feverishly to a deadline – apparently, my true calling was (and is) to be a writer, and that having followed that course (again, in the dream), I was a professional (and hopefully successful – I can’t remember if she saw that too) writer happily producing written bounty.

Ok, there are other reasons I’m here – ’cause it’d be good for me to get myself out of my head (*cough* therapy), because I am good at stringing words together (*cough* nerd), because my partner hearing that I had an inkling to write set this page up (thanks, Baby Bear – I love you forever!), and sure – because somewhere in my vast and confused imagination, maybe somebody out in famous-land (Barbra, can you hear me?) will read it and they’ll tell two friends, and so on , and so on….you get the rest of the picture.

Honestly, though – no delusions of grandeur – I will not write expecting a billion hits a day.  Even if no one reads it, I will have done it – got my thoughts out of my head and into some semblance of permanance.  And if for some reason my words touch a kindred spirit, and that spirit says, ‘hey, someone out there thinks like me too!’, and then they go off and have a nice day, well – the advantage of an online soapbox (diary? diatribe? scribble pad?) is suddenly clear.

As for the title of this blog, ‘Cherry St. Storage’, I had to go for whimsy – there’s a storage place up the street from me, and I stare at their neon sign nightly when I’m out having a smoke.  I just chopped out part of the name so they wouldn’t get all pissed that I was using their business name to promote my ramblings.

Ok, first post done.  Now, let’s see how far you can get there, buddy – the hard part has just begun.