My Temple ....delayed

The day did not turn out as I had expected and the night is worse- 2 children awake and crying past 10 pm. But today I had a visit to the temple which I hope has revived my island of inner calm to some degree.

After a breakfast at the local bakery, without my children in attendance, I started down the road to the turn that brings me the always surprising view of Lion's Rock just past the mouth of Cook's Cove.

Well I was going to write what a zen like space this mornings' paddle had put me in but now the children are still awake and I must go kill them. ARGGGGGG

how in the name of god am I supposed to write

Oh, death.

We are born alone and die alone. This oft quoted axiom is so completely wrong that I wonder how it has survived throughout the years. Unless your name is Adam, having no mother and conceived from the earth, you definitely were not born alone. And if you have had love, a family, and good friends; you need not die alone either.

The most awe inspiring moments of my life have been those times when I have been present at a birth and at the opposing side of the scale, a death. Most people will surely recognize the joy that accompanies a birth but I felt it amidst the grief of losing the person I loved most of all in the world; my grandmother. It was an honor and a privilege to hold my grandmother's hand through her last hours and minutes of life.

My grandmother had always been the person I turned to most in my life, from childhood scrapes to teenaged heartbreaks and on into more adult troubles. I knew I had a faithful caring ear although not always a commiserating mind. She was strong and judgmental but kept her own council. She forgave and moved on in life with friends and family. She was truly the glue of our family. I loved and respected her and feared her death, knowing how much of a hole it would leave in my life.

Luckily, the end was quick. A stroke, a refusal of feeding tubes and any other life prolonging measures ensured my grandmother died as prudently as she had lived.

Her doctor conferred with me:
Did she really understand what refusing the feeding tube would mean for her health?

Without the tube she would die. I knew that, she knew that, and the doctor knew that but they usually choose not to use that word. Health care professionals prefer: expire, pass away, and other euphemisms that are all meant to avoid the word death.

I assured him that she was fully aware of her impending death. Several months before her stroke I had gone over to her house one evening specifically to talk to her about her death and if she was comfortable with it. Her only complaint about dying was that she knew how hard it would be on those of us left behind. I had this conversation with her not because she was close to death at the time, but because we all are.

In the days following the stroke she became less lucid and finally, on the 5th day of her hospitalization she was no longer conscious. That morning I had dreamed of my grandfather's face and although I am the farthest thing from religious, I felt it to be a sign that my grandmother would die that day.

I arrived around 6pm to find all of her living children and their spouses lining the walls of her room. Not one of them approached her bed. They were seated as far as possible from the soon to be corpse of their mother. She breathed strenuously and slowly, she looked like an old woman. I hardly recognized her as the person who had offered me cookies in the kitchen last week, last year, last life.

I went to her bed and took her hand in mine. I didn't let go.

At 2

There is a little creature that lives in my house. She's so unique I resist calling her human. She is much more animal in mind and manner.

The grace of her naked body as it gambols through the day fills me with joy and leaves me staring at her beauty as if she was a newly discovered Caravaggio.

The ticklish sound of her laughter creeps into my shielded body and infects me with it's untamed exuberance.

Her cry is full-throated and wide mouthed. It drills into my skull with a force only nature can exert.

Last night she awoke crying. Her words garbled in an attempt to escape her nightmare. After several minutes she quieted. We watched each other silently, intently-like a hunter does its prey. Finally she said, "I love you" and continued her vigilant stare. I stroked her glossy head and she fell asleep.

I have never been more loved.

Meet The Teacher

This evening, like many other parents in my area, I am going to Meet the Teacher. Unlike some, but surely not all, I am going toe to toe with my childhood nemesis.

It took over a year for me to process the fact that my child's kindergarten teacher was a woman who had made my life miserable in highland fling, brownies and grade 2. I'll admit, I am not sure it was her that taught the highland fling.

I had seen her at school the previous year but did not recognize her from those early days of animosity.

There were other teachers in my childhood that I did not always get along with but usually it all ended in some kind of mutual respect and tolerance.

I was not an easy child. But most grown ups got past that-not this one. We butted heads upon every meeting and never came to a truce.

Now I am about to step to with her again.

Hannah has been coming home spouting religious platitudes.
--"The Lord gave us apples."
-"No Hannah, the Lord did not give us apples. The farmers hard work and mommy's money at the store gave you apples."

I detest having my child's head filled with religious tripe. Believe if you wish but keep your myths away from my child.

If we are to designate ourselves as any religion it would be Buddhist and until the teacher includes the Lord Buddha in her praise for earthly delights I must insist she keep her comments to herself.

I am sure this will not be the only time I will come up against the cross; after all I do live in North America, but it will, by times, be difficult to live in a Christian country as a non-Christian.

Photo Journal around Guysborough

My first day with only one child in tow, lovely, sunny and breezy. Time for a photo tour of my fair village.

The DesBarres Manor is across from our house. It's a Luxury 10 bed Manor house, now open as an upscale Inn.

Kitty Corner to us is The Old Court House Museum. I worked there the summer I graduated from High School. I was constantly warned off fornicating in the little bed in the exhibit room by a matronly lady that I worked with.


Atheist that I am, I live smack dab between two churches. The Catholic Church is to the right and the United to the left. As a child I did attend the United Church. The Catholic Church is currently served by a minister from Nigeria (i think). It has taken some time but I think the natives have gotten used to him.
In my younger days there was a priest here whose name was father Huntley but he was called Father Hunky behind his back. I am sure many young women went to Mass in those days hoping to lure him away from the cloth.

Somehow, I have lost the picture I took of the United church, but here is the lovely deadwood beside it.
And next to the United Church is the Mason's Lodge. Lord knows what goes on there, but they have a lovely new sign this week. Thought I would feature it here.


Next we are going on down the hill to the Wonder Store. This building used to be a creaky old wooden structure painted an amazing red. As kids we occasionally collected bottles off the roadside and went for a trash run to the Wonder Store; it was wondrous.


Across from the Wonder Store in the Old Firehouse, which is now the Mulgrave Road Co-op Theater Company.
As a child we held kindergarten and 4-H in the second story of this building which was the fire hall. I have great memories of black out blinds and macaroni crafts loaded with glue.

Next up, or I should say down, is the waterfront. This is the place where we have our Farmer's Market and Ceilidhs in the summer. The Marina is just behind this building. It's a favorite spot for graduation pics. The Boat launch, is also where the swim portion of the Guysborough Triathlon is held. Suki and I watched the swimmers this year and clapped for them all when they pulled themselves out of the harbour.



Today we spotted this lovely morning glory poking out along the shore near the marina.

Next stop, our local paper. This is a weekly publication which I think stays afloat on the patronage boat. I'm not complaining. I love having the paper here in town- just one more little check mark on our cultural score card.


Up the hill, and we spot a lovely woodpile.

A little further and we get to Christ Church. I can only remember going into this church once; for my Great Grandmother Laura Dort's funeral. I was about 7 years old.

The Church has a great old grave yard in the back and I often let the kids go running around in there. I am sure the sound of the children will lift some of the spirits lurking therein.


Past a few more buildings and almost home.

My neighbors, have a lovely house behind ours. Today I discovered that they also have an amazing peach tree and a very cute doorbell.

And that is our morning tour of my little spot in the universe.
Hope you enjoyed it.

Home again, home again, jiggity, jig, jig.