ARCHITECTURAL ELEMENTS

Once again Razmataz

has thrown down the photographic gauntlet with the challenge of capturing

Architectural Elements

I don't profess to know anything about this, so

forgive me if I have it wrong.  

I did have a lovely time, out with my camera taking photographs willy-nilly though!

Niagara-on-the-Lake is the original capital of Upper Canada and, as such

has a very influential Historical Society (sometimes affectionately known by locals as the Hysterical Society).  We have a lot of protected buildings and a lot of building restrictions.  Let me take you on a tour of my little town and some of it's buildings.

This house is the old Lord Mayor's Residence (and my next door neighbour),

it's going through a total renovation at the moment, inside and out.

Across the road is a building, on a huge piece of property that has been sitting like this

for a couple of years now.  Rumour has it that the builder/developer got into a brouhaha with the local council over a portion of the house he took down without permission

and they pulled the plug on further work.  It's a shame, because this is one of the first properties you see when you drive into town. 

The Prince of Wales Hotel is one of the big features here,

It has some pretty outdoor lighting and glass porticos

and lovely detailing over the windows.

A portion of the rooms are made up of little houses next to the main building.

Trisha Romance, a local artist has her gallery here in town.

We have three theatres...here are two of them:

The Royal George

and The Courthouse

The Old Apothecary is now a museum

We have some beautiful big houses

and some equally beautiful small ones.

The day V. arrived last year to visit with me, four stores burned down in town

(not that it was her fault!)

This is the rendering of what they intend to build 

in this space.

There's a beautiful restoration going on which, rumour has it,

(again!) is being conducted by a famous Toronto TV news 

broadcaster.

It was a little difficult to get a good shot of the house for all 

the construction trucks and port-o-lets!

There is one house in town I don't get,

V. and I were so fascinated by the big chimney-looking thing, that we stopped in

one day and asked the owner/builder what it was.

We speculated on a chimney for a stone pizza oven, or a kiln

but he said it was just an Architectural Element!

(At least it has some interesting-looking doors.)

Thanks Chania, once again, for hosting.

IMAGINAL

If I'm honest, (and when am I not!)...the best part of this book I am reading

is the part about the Imaginal.

Bourgeault proposes that as oppose to imaginary,

the Imaginal is actually a place.

When MM saw the risen Jesus on Easter Sunday and was directed to go and spread the good news, (the apostle to the apostles), Bourgeault suggests this was not a vision, but a real meeting on another plane.

It's why I have always loved the author

John O'Donohue (thank you V.).  He explains Ireland and Irish lore as inclusive of 

an underworld as a real place.

Right after our Mum died, I only dreamed of her once, she and I sat on a flight of stairs and she looked me right in the face and said "I can't find Daddy".  

This neither distressed nor surprised me (she and my father had a volatile relationship and I wouldn't put it passed Dad to hide from her).  I've never thought this was a dream or an illusion, but always felt this was part of Mum's exit from this life.

I'm not sure after reading Willow's post on her haunted manor

I wouldn't be highly motivated to move, but I am very strongly attracted to the notion of 

alternate planes.

CHRISTIANITY

I'm reading this book at the moment.

It's a bit of a tough slog, but at the same time fascinating.

I don't like that information has been hidden and misconstrued

and that religion has been 'mis-shapen'.

Bourgeault says "If we can just cut through two millennia of doctrine and dogma to the living heart of Jesus’ teaching, we find here relational health, an astonishing vision of love as a transformational path, and profoundly empowering models of women and women-and-men-working-together in spiritual leadership roles. To reclaim Mary Magdalene is to reclaim Christianity. Without her, our understanding of what Jesus was really teaching is incomplete — in fact, it is significantly distorted."

She proposes that if religion had allowed the idea of Jesus dying not 'alone and rejected, but with one who stood by him and did not leave' that the emotional timbre of the day might be different;  that our feelings about Church might be different;  that the role of women in the Church would certainly be different; and more importantly, that our attitude to redemptive love would be different.

Here's one example of how said information has been manipulated:  In the story of the woman with the alabaster jar, who suddenly bursts into the dining room and starts anointing Jesus' head or feet (depends which gospel you read) and is staunchly defended by Jesus against reprimands for such an atrocious waste of precious perfume, has historically been attributed to Mary Magdalene.

However, did you know that, (according to Bourgeault), 'Not a single one of the scriptures themselves identifies this woman as Mary Magdalene."

Here's how Bourgeault describes the sort of word-association that brought MM into the frame:

1.  The seven demons cast out of Mary Magdalene imply that she was a sinner.

2.  Since the woman in this anointing incident was a sinner, and Mary Magdalene was also a sinner, they must be the same person.

3.  Given the effusiveness of her personality and Simon the Pharisee's comment about "what kind of woman this is," her sin must be lust.

4.  Since this woman is also identified as Mary of Bethany, Mary Magdalene and Mary of Bethany must be the same person.

Then Pope Gregory the Great sealed her fate in a sermon he preached in 594 which defined the Catholic Church's official position on MM for nearly 1400 years.  (It wasn't until 1969 that the teaching she was a prostitute was finally repealed.)

"She whom Luke calls the sinful woman, whom John calls Mary, we believe to be the Mary from whom seven demons were ejected according to Mark, and what did these seven demons signify if not all the vices?...It is clear, brothers, that this woman previously used the unguent to perfume her flesh in forbidden acts.  What she therefore displayed more scandalously, she was now offering to God in a more praiseworthy manner."

 Bourgeault again..."I offer this book as an alternative to throwing out the baby with the bathwater, by showing how all these oppressive aspects of institutional Christianity are DISTORTIONS of the original message, not intrinsic to it. "

 “Christianity isn’t a failure; it just hasn’t been tried yet.” 

G.K. Chesterton

from my window

I'm lying here on the sofa

looking out the window

rain

grey skies

I'm lying here on the sofa

looking out the window.

The car arrives again.

It parks outside my house.

She steps outside.

Her with short grey hair, jeans, puffy jacket.

Her car is full, suitcases, bags, and now a mattress is tossed on top.

She takes a dog from the back seat.

She leads him to the neighbours house and leaves him there.

Comes back to her car, gets inside and drives away.

I don't know who she is, but I think she is living in her car.

Perhaps she is homeless.

Perhaps not.

She comes and goes.

She drops off her dog.

She picks him up.

I see her wrapping ice packs in plastic bags.

Perhaps to keep her milk cold.

Perhaps not.

Strange what you see when you lie on your couch looking out the window.

14e arrondissement (Paris, je t'aime) from trolleys on Vimeo.

The Clever Pup

posted this video on Friday.

I could have just put up a link to her blog, but I know what a lazy bunch you all can be, so I've made it super-easy for you to watch this...and as she says...get out your hankies.

I know this pup is clever because:

a:  she is a cancer, and 

b:  she is Canadian (well she lives in Canada)

just like me! and 

c:  this is so beautiful and tender and just lovely...

Pebbles

Do you have a ten-year plan, a five-year plan, or like Oriah do you just look for the small pebbles to point your way?

The Invitation

I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,

from the book The Invitation

Today, I'm opting for the small, white pebbles.

RED!

RAZMATAZ'S

photo challenge this week is 

RED

this colour makes me think

IN CAPITALS.

It is so demanding of your attention.

This is my favourite painting, by Georgy Kurasov, a russian neo-constructivist.

I find it VERY RED.

A day in Emergency...

Daughter on the right, Jessica, ended up in emergency yesterday to have her arm, that she broke last Friday, reset and put in a cast.  A tedious, painful experience.  Thankfully, she is fast asleep upstairs and beginning the healing process.Others we saw yesterday are not.  

A day in emergency can turn into a surreal experience.  I'm not sure whether to bless the medical system or despair of it.

As we sat in the first hospital's emergency department (we had to go to two to find an orthopedic specialist who could set her arm), there were two twenty-something aged men obviously high, even to my naive eyes, both complaining of vague back pain.  All the while there (and it was over two and a half hours) they were up and down, back and forth, ducking under and over temporary barriers in the waiting room without a wince or grimace.  Neither bothered to hide that there was nothing physically wrong with them, well their backs anyway.

As Jess and I sat waiting for her paperwork before moving on to hospital #2, one of the young men came running out of an examining room, waiving a prescription and announced to everyone in the waiting room, "this hospital is AWESOME...ativan man, ativan".

Fast-forward five hours, well slow-forward actually, and now I am sitting in the radiology department waiting for Jessica to have her post-reduction x-ray, next to a man whose eighty-year-old Mum is in having her x-rays taken.  We can hear the gentle crying of his mother as the technicians turn her this way and that.  This man is teary too as he explains to me that his Mum's bones are so fragile, every tiny movement is excruciating for her.  "I keep trying to tell them that they have to go slowly and be gentle with her, but they won't listen, they have no time, they don't know her." 

And herein lies the crux of the problem.  Staff have no time to simply observe the all-too-obvious grab for cheap drugs with the first young-man, and no time to properly tend to the needs of Anna as she is subjected to painful x-ray after x-ray. 

I'm grateful Jessica's arm is now cast and she can heal, but again the specialist, the only one on call in what was an over-taxed hospital, didn't have the time to read her chart properly or ask her the correct questions and ended up re-setting the bone without anesthetic, and so the poor girl had her arm broken twice in the space of four days.

I hope this doesn't sound too judgemental, every health professional we met yesterday was helpful and caring, but without exception distracted and over-extended.  I genuinely believe the system is horribly broken and don't have a clue as to how to fix it.

the ABC's of Life

A...accept differences

B...be kind

C...count your blessings

D...dream

E...express thanks

F...forgive

G...give freely

H...harm no one

I...imagine more

J...jettison anger

K...keep confidences

L...love truly

M...master something

N...nurture hope

O...open your mind

P...pack lightly

Q...quell rumours

R...reciprocate

S...seek wisdom

T...touch hearts

U...understand

V...value truth

W...win graciously

X...xeriscape

Y...yearn for peace

and

Z...zealously support a worthy cause.

I recently found these ABC's of life written in the home of a dear friend, and thought how wonderful it would be for our children to learn the alphabet through our daily actions of these words.

Christmas is coming...

If you really, really, really love someone

buy them this for Christmas...

Cipriani Pastas

We just had the papardelle, with Italian sausage, asparagus in aioli and a dusting of parmesan

(a la Willow...thank you darling)

...it was sublime.

FAIR'S FAIR...

this is an actual McDonalds print ad from Japan

Just to keep the score even, the day we moved into our apartment in Tokyo, exhausted, frustrated and homesick, I took our youngest daughter down the street to our local McDonalds.  It was about the only place I knew how to get to and back from and something identifiable to eat was sorely needed by both of us.

When we arrived at the restaurant, both crying our eyes out by now, we were confronted by the electronic door which had a hand-pad that you had to touch to operate.  In my state of distress, I couldn't seem to figure this out and just kept walking back and forth trying to make the door somehow magically open.

Inside a little Japanese girl (why are they always little?) was busy having her lunch, watching this pantomime play out outside.  Eventually, she got up, opened the door and showed me, mime-fashion, how to operate this ever-so complicated piece of equipment.

If the Universe is beneficent, and I believe it is, right now that very same little Japanese girl, some nineteen years down the road, is blogging to her friends about how a western mother and her daughter were ACTUALLY crying because they couldn't get the door open at McDonalds, and having a top laugh!

Peanut Butter...well almost...

On the heels of Razmataz's latest photo challenge

FOOD

I'd like to relate a story told to me many years ago about peanut butter.

A friend of a friend who lives in Singer Island, Florida

was attending her son's high-school graduation ceremony.

That particular year, they had several exchange students attend for their final year of high-school

from Japan.

One young, beautiful Japanese girl was chosen to be spokes-person for her group.

She rose to speak at the ceremonies and was asked to explain the one

thing, above all others, that she loved about the United States.

With  grand smile and total confidence, she declared

"Penis Busser...I LOVE Penis Busser."

To this day, I cannot recall that story without rolling on the floor.

After just returning from yet another week away,

I am happy to be home again.

My returning was bittersweet this time though.

I left with a heavy heart,

leaving behind family and friends,

not knowing when we would all be together again.

Sitting on the aircraft my heart longed for the familiar

to greet me in my little house,

but I knew I would wake the next morning to a quiet house.

Before settling in the for the night after the long travel I had

to pick up my sweet puppy Molly, and my car, that had been lovingly

looked after by my son and his wife.

Upon entering their home, a fire burning warmly in hearth,

my beautiful young grandson Jack opened his arms wide

and hugged me as if I had been away for years.

Then in his amazingly insightful way said...

"Come in Tory and warm yourself by our fire".

All my longing for what I thought I had left

met me again in that moment.

Home truly is where your heart is.

victoria

FOOD

Lord, love-a-duck Raz 

this was a tough one.

The photo-challenge this week is FOOD.

What a loaded topic that is!

Well, for me anyway.

Food is something I LOVE.

I love reading about it, shopping for it, touching it, smelling it, preparing it, cooking it...EATING it!

I enjoy nothing more in this world than people around the table.

Heck...I'll even pour myself the last glass of wine, light a candle, turn on the music and CLEAN UP!

Food is the language of my life. 

It's how I express love, how I find pleasure...how I exist.

And yet...there is the dark side, 

starvation, deprivation, corruption, anorexia, bulemia,

obesity, additives, preservatives, CAFO's, genetically modified food.

I'm overwhelmed by all of that!

So...defaulting to that safe place, 

let me do what I do and give you my favourite sandwich recipe...

Two slices of fresh, home-made, toasted, multi-grain bread,

lightly...everso lightly spread with organic peanut butter...

Add two..okay maybe three,  slices of bacon from the all-gracious, wonderful, most generous pig....

as-many-slices-as-you-can-fit of a crisp, fresh-from-the-tree gala apple...

all topped with a fistful of alfalfa sprouts.

Delicious.  I'm happy.