A sober sombre day ~
Ultimate sacrifice honoured by a red poppy
Pinned over our hearts
We gratefully remember
A sober sombre day ~
I am reblogging this so I have it saved to savour over and over again–like a good cup of coffee…………..
Originally posted on Live & Learn:
And coffee, for one who knows it as I do, means making it with your own hands and not having it come to you on a tray, because the bringer of the tray is also the bearer of talk, and the first coffee, the virgin of the silent morning, is spoiled by the first words. Dawn, my dawn, is antithetical to chatter. The aroma of coffee can absorb sounds and will go rancid, even if these sounds are nothing more than a gentle “Good morning!”
Coffee is the morning silence, early and unhurried, the only silence in which you can be at peace with self and things, creative, standing alone with some water that you reach for in lazy solitude and pour into a small copper pot with a mysterious shine—yellow turning to brown—that you place over a low fire. Oh, that it were a wood fire!
Stand back from…
View original 358 more words
“It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”
I so need this advice. Thanks David!
November chill brrrrrrr…..
Fall to winter in a blink
There is no denying it. It is November, or as William Hartston of the London Express says, “Having settled in over the weekend, the month of November is now firmly with us….” In preparation for the rest of the month he provided ten not exactly “fun” facts about November. I find his first rather odd, and once you have read it, I am sure that you will agree with me that it is your least favourite and possibly most puzzling fact. Now that I have built it up, I am sure it will be a letdown, so here is his first fact about November:
“The Anglo-Saxons called November “Blotmonath” after the blood of slaughtered cattle.” This seems like a very random and distasteful fact—perhaps you have to be British to understand it. His second fact while not earth-shattering is interesting. He says that, “In any given year, November starts on the same day of the week as March and ends on the same day of the week as August.” I am too lazy to check out the accuracy of this, so I will just believe he knows what he is talking about.
Number 3 on his list is something we could all live quite happily without knowing, but nevertheless it gives us some sweet insight into another culture. Apparently, “according to data from Twitter, the Spanish are more likely to tweet “Te amo” (I love you) in November than any other month.” I understand this, as in our part of the world November is the beginning of the end of any hope of warm weather, so throwing a few “I love yous” around is sure to warm the cockles of the heart. Maybe this should become a Canadian tradition too.
He quotes Louisa May Alcott of “Little Women” fame for his fourth fact. Louisa was not a fan of November I take it. She said. “November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year.” At one time I may have agreed with her, but no more. To me November is the month that I plan for Christmas without stress—once December hits—it is deadline time. Shakespeare joins Alcott in enthusiasm for the month of November, as according to Harston “There is no mention of the month of November in any of Shakespeare’s plays or sonnets.”
I have not checked out this next one with our local police force but I hope it is not true. Harston says that “More domestic burglaries take place in November than any other month.” I have no real explanation for this one. This next “fact” is a bit obscure, but one that some of you may find entertaining and even understand. I am not part of your ranks, but if you see me around town and you understand it, I would be pleased to be enlightened. It is old weather lore and predicts that: “If there’s ice in November to bear a duck, There’ll be nothing after but sludge and muck.” Sounds a bit ominous to me.
Since I do not care that two American Presidents were born in November, I will still supply the information to those of you who may. Warren Harding born in 1865 and James Polk in 1795 were born in November. I will now tell you who I care was born in November: my niece Gilly, my grandniece Sophie, and my sister-in-law Starr. Happy Birthday to all of you btw. And do not be depressed about the next fact provided to us by Harston: “According to research by Clearblue pregnancy testing, “November is the least popular month for women to want to have babies in.” Gilly and Sophie and Starr, I am sure your moms were happy you were born in November.
Last, and least in my opinion of Harston’s ten facts is this: “November is the only month when more rain usually falls on London than Paris.” Elucidating though it may be, this fact is only handy for those of us in Canada who are thinking of visiting London, or for that matter Paris.
Personally I think the month of November is much maligned. I consider it my “hunkering down” month. The month (at our house) when we finally take the window air conditioner out. The month we turn the heat on without guilt. The month we can snuggle under blankets in the corner of the couch with a good book. The month when a warm fire is welcoming (unless you are like us and do not have a fireplace—then it is just alarming). So enjoy this month of November, despite what the Bard and Louisa may think.
Do you like November?
So much has been written about the terrors of last week, but I could not let it go by without throwing in my two cents worth. This is my weekly column:
By all rights this is supposed to be my Halloween column, but with the events of last week it seems kind of superficial to complain about the eve of All Saints’ Day. Instead I am going to devote a little space to the following quote, which if true, is heartening. The founder of Craigs List, Craig Newmark said this:
“What surprises me, in a way, is how almost universally people are trustworthy
and good. There are problems, and sometimes people bicker, which is a pain
in the ass, but people are good. No matter what your religious background,
we share pretty much the same values. There are some minor differences
that we disagree on, but the differences are at the 5 percent level. That’s
The differences, he says, are at the 5 per cent level. If so, why do our differences sometimes seem at the 90% level? So much has been written about the loss of two of our most brave, killed because of the proud uniforms they wore. Some have tried to put it in perspective, giving us facts and figures about the number of people who die in a day, and what they die from—but this is not the time to put death into perspective. I think that one life, and in this case two lives, are more than worthy of our united mourning. And what happened tragically to those men and others who were hurt and wounded is worth our time. No death should be a statistic.
We have come together as one people. In no way should we thank the terrorists for bringing us together but if they have done nothing else, they have proven that “they” cannot make us afraid; “they” cannot make us cower; nor can “they” take away our trust. We did pause though to recognize that there is evil in the world. There is no other explanation for some of the things that happen. But we must believe that there is much more good in the world than evil.
I sat in my red chair in the corner of my living room on Wednesday transfixed by the horror of the day. I saw the madman and his gun; I saw brave people trying to revive the soldier he shot in the back with no care about their own safety; I saw the mayhem in the halls of Parliament; I saw the Sergeant at Arms walking down the hallway, carrying the gun that killed the madman; I heard the stories of the people sequestered in lockdown (in fact two of my nieces were in lockdown—one at the Courthouse, one at City Hall) and I could not leave these people. Somehow I felt if I watched I could come to some understanding. That did not happen.
There is no understanding evil.
But if we believe Craig Newmark when he says that “almost universally people are trustworthy and good”, then the madman did not do his job last Wednesday. Nor did the madman of Monday’s premeditated hit and run. These two evil-doers did not take away our faith in people. They did not cancel our belief in goodness. And if you have any doubt of this—remember the unarmed guard in the Parliament building trying to stop the gunmen, putting his own life at risk for others; remember the hugs in the House of Commons; remember the trip down 401 to Hamilton with people lining the road to honour the fallen Corporal, fondly referred to as “Canada’s son”; remember how very seriously we are all affected by this. There have been so many ways that people have expressed their sorrow and honoured the fine men whose lives were taken. They are not a statistic. And we are not treating them as such.
In the 18th century, Irish political philosopher Edmund Burke said it best: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Of course I would make the quote more inclusive by adding women—and if you looked closely at the people who were tending to Cpl. Nathan Cirillo you will see there were men and women. Doing everything they could to save this man’s life and comforting him with the most important knowledge of all—that he was loved. And love is what ultimately conquers evil.
(Thanks again to David for the inspiration)