Sunday May 17, 2015
Let’s make a world where everyone has enough
Where everyone has what they NEED
When they NEED it
Where mother’s can feed babies from their breasts and where father’s can sing lullabies
Let’s make a world where trees are our priests
Where forests are our temples
Where dolphins are our recognized and respected sisters
Where computers and labs and scientists aren’t involved in food growth
Where governments champion children, art, the elderly, green space, democracy
Let’s make a world where we celebrate one another’s successes
Where we dive deep for our bravery and bring it to each interaction
Let’s make a world where we listen
With our whole being
Where we stop
Let’s make a world where we dance in the street with strangers
Let’s make a world where anyone can marry anyone
Where love is the beginning, middle and end
Let’s make a world with less cars and more bikes
With less oil and more bio-fuel
With less guns and more sunflowers
With less plastic and more recycling
With less hiding and more showing
Let’s make a world where we are all different
Where we can smile at our complicated understanding about otherness
Where we can remember
Where we can remember
Where we can remind each other
We all come from the same mother
But we need to love her up
Love her down
Love her all around
We need to be more radical in our loving
We need to embrace change
(it’s always here)
It’s always here
We are water
Water is polluted
We are polluted
It’s not complicated
It’s a simple story
Why can’t we understand?
Thank you for your bravery
Thank you for your attention
I made this cake for you
Wednesday May 13, 2015 at Dark Horse
Heather Kirn Lanier
When she makes the bed she whispers, “corner’s tucked, sheets flat, duvet fluffy.” She hears Bill leave for work and, as the door locks she quietly calls, “Goodbye!” Gwen waits until eleven, once the dog walker has come and she’s had second cup of coffee to get out the watercolour paints. “A small jar of water on the left, paints on the right…” A whisper, like a feather on her neck. A joint hangs from her lips, but she never lights it. She breathes in quickly, tasting the sweet perfume. Bill has a medical license for his Glaucoma. He leaves joints already rolled in a small ziplock bag in the spice cabinet. She takes them in her mouth, each one, when she paints. “Shhh, little angel,” and a flick of red.
Tuesday May 12, 2015
Almost Unendurable Beauty
My son makes pancakes shaped like faces – “That’s amazing, honey.”
My wife wins an award for her azure quilt – “That’s amazing, honey.”
Chris bikes all the way to Whistler – “That’s amazing!”
My mother calls and says that she’s won the lottery – $10,000! “That’s amazing, Mom.”
I shake the mud from my boots and wonder what my wife has made for dinner. I ask. “Spaghetti and Meatballs,” she says, looking at my dirty cargo pants like they might give her an yet unnamed disease. I french kiss her. “That’s amazing, honey.”
Saturday May 9, 2015
Overheard at Kits beach
I’ll follow you, North Star.
I’ll follow you all the way down South and up to the icy Arctic and back across to the mountains and the deserts.
I’ll be there to guide you, North Star, when you’re tired of lighting everyone else’s way.
I’ll make you blackberry smoothies with coconut and hemp seeds – you’ll need that plant based protein, North Star.
If you feel like drifting, don’t feel like you must be chained to the North – sail south, ancient one! Sail sideways and in zigzags! I’ll keep your spot warm.
I’ll dry your thunderstorm tears, North Star, when you’re ravaged by grief, when you lose another member of the Milky Way. I’ll cradle you in my arms until you fall asleep, salty-cheeked and eyes swollen.
I’ll run alongside you when you learn to ride a bike, speed demon. I’ll cheer you on and I’ll put bandaids on your knees when you skin them.