Passing on
... there is a rhythmic undulation when traveling. When a child he watched and listened absorbing the process in a kind of intergenerational journey continuance. Ancestors witnessing from the corners guiding the way. Once on the path it is a song/call/dance towards an engagement. The practice is acquired, exchanged then valued. Each repetition is a creative movement embodiment ...
... we, by ourselves, cannot bring about the kinds of knowing that endure. So we journey together beyond geographical and cultural boundaries grounded in a place-specific standing under territory and self, experience and innocence, knowledge and play ...
... in the streets of Ottawa and in the homes of my relations I watch my son move with strength and with a sensual maturity shaped by attention, awareness and insight. My mother on my arm, weak and unsteady, follows doing the things she always did giving thanks. Myself, unsure as to exactly how the push/pull of existence works right now feel between, precisely as I am now on the plane flying ...
... flying to a place I call the Temple. Yes it is in the space between, in the air, connecting something to something, mother to son, the place of my ancestors to ... well it is in this connectedness I locate the feeling of home ...
We walk in a shared reality traversing all the places (in)be[ing](to)(we)en while we pass on.
::Note:: ... A week in Ottawa staying with Don mapping my ignorance ... Mom's 90th birthday present for us all ... Huge thanks Don ... Big hug Stefan ... special warmth to Brant, Betty, Margaret, Marge, Shirley, Deb, Tim & others ... Till next year!
