“difficult for the Western mind to understand” by Sasha in her kitchen

Thursday October 4, 2018
9:15pm
5 minutes
The Heart of Understanding
Thich Nhat Hanh

Hold it steady
Hold it steady
Your heart on the outside
beating for the world to see
beating for me to write a song to

Hold it steady
Hold it steady
Sweet angel you’ve got all the goodness
Sweet angel you’ve got all the badness
Like we all do – in equal parts

Hold it steady
Hold it steady
My hand in your hand
as the leaves turn in their glory
in the breaking as we turn towards

each other

“Protect the blood from attack” by Sasha on the deck at Knowlton Lake

Thursday October 5, 2017
7:12am
5 minutes
Chinese Tonic Herbs
Ron Teeguarden

In this quiet stillness of languid morning
Sun on the birches and maples
Dew catching the joke quick
I listen to the silence
She whispers in a language I’m only now just learning
Only will learn fifty years from now
Sixty years from now
A million deaths between now and then

My mother only just spoke
Leaves turning at a snail’s pace
Green to yellow to
How she’s prone to anxiety
Red and brown
Spoke bulemia
When the wind swoops
The echoes cling to the windows
I hush
Spoke silence in a language I’m only now just learning
Thirty six years between us
Somehow less distance
Somehow more

I want to know about the birds that build nests up high
Who are they hiding from
Where do their babies first learn that we are born
Alone and will die alone
Each day an expression of this intrinsicness
Each quiet and still morning
An opportunity to fly deeper
A wingspan promise to try again

“scoop up all the trash” by Julia on her patio


Thursday May 7, 2015
10:04pm
5 minutes
from http://www.ecokids.ca

Community service. As if I should have to serve the community for doing one thing against the legal system. Like one tiny thing, and they make you serve the entire community with your penance and your time and your new shame. There are so many people doing illegal and stupid things. SO MANY. They’re not serving the community, they’re not even worried about having to. I mean, a service to my community would be warning everybody about where not to smoke hash in this city. Tell people where not to speed. Now these are services people want. The community doesn’t give a flying fuck if I rake up some completely docile leaves. Leaves don’t bother people, why is that one of the tasks? The community doesn’t care if I scoop up all the trash in the park. There are city people who get PAID to do that so they’re not going to suddenly feel like a big weight’s been lifted off them if I, the apparently guilty, offer a bunch of hours to essentially take away job opportunities from someone who actually needs the work.

“I never used to notice this awful quiet” by Sasha in front of the fireplace


Friday January 23, 2015
10:36pm
5 minutes
from a song by The Be Good Tanyas

Taking into account all the times I’ve lied
I make a shadow puppet collage on the wall and throw a teabag at it
It sticks
YES
I’ll peel it off in the morning
Read the leaves
A gypsy of relentless love and misunderstanding
Wild like the moon
Deep like the desert
“You’re so sensitive” you say
Like it’s a curse
Like it’s a bad thing
“No, no” you say
“That’s not what I mean”
And then
Two hours later
Two emojis in place of words
Of something I can hold on to
A heart
A hand
waving

“laugh-out-loud funny.” By Sasha in the bath


Wednesday January 14, 2015
10:51pm
5 minutes
From the i heart huckabees DVD case

I’m writing secrets on leaves again. It’s less poetic then it sounds. I want them to dissolve into the mud in the backyard. Chuck is buried there, maybe the secrets will sink into him. That’s what makes it hard. To sell the house. That’s what makes it the hardest. Chuck and the secrets – all of them just back there and knowing that someone else might find the bones and the veins and the letter “S” or “X”. I’ve got this one down pat – the packing and the taping. But the leaving? The leaving is tough.

“too damn cool” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday November 21, 2014
9:32pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail

Cool is the currency
Cool is liking that pink hat
Or… Is it?
Cool is
Cool is
Cool isn’t Celine Dion, he says
But when I was there
On the other side
The blonde haired dark skinned one
Low slung jeans
And sad eyes
Played My Heart Will Go On
With utter sincerity
Cool isn’t the painting above the toilet
Cool isn’t scrolling through your phone looking at picture of women in lingerie on Instagram
Cool is a judgement call
Cool is traded
Cool is coded
Cool is switched
Cool is that tree
Trees are cool
Effortless
Attachement (Roots)
Unattachment (Leaves)

“UNION” by Sasha on the bed in Whistler


Saturday September 20, 2014
10:12pm
5 minutes
from a flyer for a yoga studio

It’s that time of year again. When she gets restless. When she starts picking at her scabs and calling out the reindeer names in her sleep. It’s that time of year again. When she starts winning. When she walks down the street singing Born To Run like she is Springsteen. It’s that time of year again. When she forgets how much she likes ice cream. When she makes promises to the leaves that like them, she’ll change colour.

“one time” by Sasha at her desk


Thursday October 24, 2013
3:41pm
5 minutes
A piece of mail from Shoppers Drug Mart

Your cheeks are rhubarb, tart and pink. You’ve just come in from raking the leaves. “Want tea?” I shouldn’t even have to ask anymore. But I do. And you respond – “Yes”. The kettle howls and I find supreme satisfaction in steeping the dark bag, covering it with a small glass bowl so that it stays hot. I check my watch. I wait three minutes. I stretch my tight back as I wait. You’re running a bath. One time, many years ago, I told you that I hated you. Sometimes, when I stretch I hear myself saying those words, they are locked somewhere around the base of my spine. You slide your arms around my waist and smell the secret place where neck meets shoulder. “You smell good,” you say.

“She snapped the shutter” by Sasha on her couch


Saturday October 12, 2013
10:13pm
5 minutes
from the 2011 Toronto Star article ‘American Girl still walking tall’
Murray White


When Tash and Rowan found the bird, it was barely breathing. Rowan picked it up from the rusty leaves and cradled it in her open palms. She could feel it’s heartbeat, rapid and quaking. “What should we do?” Tash whispered. She was usually the one with the plan, but knew she should refer to the reader of the Eye Witness books and the winner of the Zoology prize three years in a row. Rowan held a pointer finger to her pursed lips. Tash nodded. They had both worn their purple sweatshirts and rainboots from the Hardware Store. Rowan’s were bigger. Tash’s sweatshirt had a stain on the bottom cuff, from when she ate spaghetti with her fingers. Rowan cupped her hands around the bird so that it was fully enveloped, and walked as if there was a stack of books on her head, like she’d seen in a movie. When they got to the library Tash looked confused. “It’s Sunday. It’s closed!” She whispered. Rowan walked to the back of the old building. She knocked on the small door three times.

“The most powerful thing you can do” by Sasha on her couch


Friday March 8, 2013
1:04am
5 minutes
Creative Visualization
Shakti Gawain


I know that you’ve been focusing on visualization recently. I’m proud of you. I really am. I know that consequently your dream life is more vivid, more technicolor, you’re flying more. You’re seeing the leaves change in a way that you never have. The brown is brighter. This delights you. You keep being tempted to put a few leaves in your coat pocket, very carefully, and take them home and press them, like your grandmother used to do, between sheets of wax paper, tucked into your inherited copy of Webster’s English Dictionary. Perhaps, a few months down the line, you’d even go so far as to make them into greeting cards, like your grandmother used to do.