Notes on the Fire on Queen Street

(pics courtesy of torontoist.com)

Notes from the Fire on Queen Street

MORNING
Chopper chopping the news
Copter hovering above like
A dragonfly suspended

Bulked up firemen; an older one is
Smoking a classic wooden pipe
“My feet are cold” he says
They climb into the idling
Red truck

At least a dozen trucks at
Intersection. These firefighters
Have been here for hours.
The younger ones are the
Grunts lifting canisters of
Oxygen

A slope of kindling across the
Sidewalk; the remains of what was
Once – and before that –
Behind it a steady
Fall of water – five hoses aimed
At the base, one from a tower

Pedestrians on cell phones
Some had heard the news
& came prepared with cameras
We’re all stepping over the
Police tape

The water from the crane
Hose is a solid tube of
Froth a good foot in
Diameter

It’s frigid. My hands are
Cracking from the cold

A beautiful sunny day

The mood is quiet &
Pensive

Axe chopping ice at the sewer drain

Thick boa constrictors of
Fire hoses on the pavement
Lying, some empty, like
Discarded skins & others
Full of water rats
In the middle
Of the city’s busiest intersection
Now transformed

Smoke fallout traveling
East. It will be a stinky walk
To work today

Five more trucks on Richmond
A man knocks at homes
To evacuate?

There will be homeless

EVENING
Two crane ladders

Still pumping streams

Street now lit up like
The film set of a
Horror pic
Haunted Fun House gone
Wrong

Facades iced in cake
Trees and wires hung heavy
With gaudy icicles

Crowds of people
With cell phones &
Cameras
Some smiling; excited
Others grim-faced

Bits of ash floating down
Or is it snow?

Rocky Mountain Wisdom

Two days of snowboarding with this view - my body aches and I feel as though the mountains worked me good.

I thought that by going out West and being in different scenery - namely the grand Rocky Mountains - I could open up my heart and mind and let the cool, clear wind pass through and blow away any detritus. I expected that once cleared, the mountains could provide me with the answers I would use to fill them up again. What does my past mean? And what does my future hold?

I said once I got to the peak: I'm an empty vessel, Mountains. I am ready for the wisdom that you can impart.

I waited.

Alas, all I heard and felt was the cool wind.

Driving back through the Rockies towards Calgary, sitting beside Heidi during long silent passages of time save for her iPod on shuffle, I got an answer I didn't expect. I realized that I should and could be present wherever I am.

Heidi and I have not spent this much time together in years. Yet we could be silent and contemplative together. We could also sing horribly together! But what fun.

I have recently made a move to live alone again and I have to re-learn to be silent (or sing horribly!) and contemplative in my own company and at any given moment be truly present. A process that I already know is vastly rewarding.

My Rocky Mountain experiences serve to anchor me. Serve to remind me that I am but a speck on this planet. But that I have work to do to pull my own weight.

I have a strong vision and purpose.

I am excited about my own future.

I am happy.

May you also feel the joy of being present in your self.

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.

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 itor 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 prettyevery 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 doneto 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.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Until One is Committed

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back-- Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.

Goethe