if . . .

yes, winter has waned, but there has been no shortage of activity re: the Aurora Borealis lately - and this has me thinking about the time the US and Canadian militaries were shooting rockets into the Northern Lights just to see what would happen lol. This all went down in Churchill, Manitoba. For those keeping track, this is a fairly northern, somewhat remote community lol - a full 1000 km northeast of Winnipeg on the Hudson Bay. ... this IG  look here  post by the government of Canada, shared with me by my son, verified my toddler memories of being lifted up by my father and flicking a switch to fire a rocket into the Aurora Borealis ... there are pictures that look like the old wooden tower where i have memories of Dad bundling me up and atop the tower watched him take photos of the night sky ... he told me stories about the rocket info payloads landing sometimes as far south as the USA midwest ... the snow, polar bears & boulders of Hudson Bay shaped a dream-like cheri...

 Last night the kitchen breathed He stood there silver hair spilling light a beard of ash eyes mirrors turned inward burning through me. His mouth moved, words curling out like a snake, as if speaking to shadows, as if speaking to me. For a moment a flicker —  am I looking at myself?  — An echo from a future I can't hold. He reminded me of Stanislavski, how I remember his pictures, yet searching those images he was neither him nor me. He was something other, carved thinner older than time, newer than now. I wanted to stay or have him stay but was pulled away, unspooled from sleep. Still, if I hadn't woken, would he have ever been? Dreams need breaking to be remembered a word waiting on the tongue, a word held too long never finds its sound. ::Note:: ... taken from here 

 ... moved into a new place ...  ... first night there in a deep sleep was visited by a short middle aged man ... well dressed in a black suit ... seemed to be Korean but not sure ... although silent the figure's presence was so strong i was pulled out of dream to fully awake ... as I lay in bed the after image of him remained standing silently in the hallway just outside the open bedroom door ... he wasn't really looking at me but i felt he sensed i was now aware of his presence and didn't wish to startle me ... finally assured he was a dream figure i fell back to sleep ... only later to be visited again ...  this time not in dream but upon waking saw him standing fully in the doorway ...  a serious, calm face he looked directly into my eyes ...  ...  i knew he was an apparition  & examined his demeanour ... he was likewise examining me with a gentle questioning look ... oh a previous owner of the apartment i thought ... he didn't move or speak ju...

... received notice there was a tenant in the bushes next to my studio/living residence ... am in the process of relocating ...  the structure and surrounding area are vacant ... the prairie gothic building was actually a place of worship in previous incarnations thus i refer to my place as The Temple ... there exists a tiny insignificant plot at the back dominated by white and purple flowering lilac bushes open to  the alley ...  ... on the edge of downtown ... located a stones throw away from the original train station turned into small mall ... surrounded mostly by apartments and housing "progressing" towards gentrification i allowed this tiny unkempt bush area to be a respite from concrete ... oh yes there is a lawn ... not exactly manicured turf grass but a collection of quack grass and the likes i watch over treasuring the dandelions, ants, ladybugs and multitudes of robins, magpies, ravens, crows and others ... close to the basement windows are thankfully a mix of ...

Threadsuns  by Paul Celan Translated by Pierre Joris  Threadsuns  above the grayblack wastes. A tree-  high thought  grasps the light-tone: there are  still songs to sing beyond  mankind.   … can’t remember exact timeframe details now ... my partner was feeling sick with cold like symptoms … then i … the HomeKit produced a positive result for both of us this morning …   … yesterday after a morning of on-line teaching was exhausted … fell into a deep sleep …was lying in a field of packed snow making a snow angel … a cold wind blew over my face … my face felt frozen … the sun was shining strong … a force within me … i desired to reach up to grab the sun … if not the sun herself at least the sun rays … tried reaching up with arms stretching to touch the sky … had done this act hundreds of times & taught others this movement another hundreds of times … yet nothing moved … fingertips screamed “use your heart“ … my heart … how … wi...

... was most impressed with the community work/play of KsambDance troupe ... witnessed their summer presentation To The Heart ...  ... checked out their video Be Lonley - a response to "Covid news spread and restrictions became increasingly strident, KSAMB Dance Company thought, WE MUST KEEP DANCING!" ...  ... they reached out inviting my participation on one of their regularly scheduled Wild Card Movement Friday gatherings at Saskatoon City Hall Square ... witnessed their October 30th special edition, with video projections and audio by Miki and Nicole ...  ...replied "Wonderful work! All elements: sheets, light, projections, sound and playing with space. The elements, especially the gentle wind conspired to create a flowing free like comfortable disturbance of shadows, cocoons, wings, inner-outer spirits and wrappings of careful protection to struggles and strangulations. Fleeting surfaces capturing airy memory places ... nice “collaborateurs” ... my question is doe...

My colleagues put this together ... thanks to all with special thanks to Ryan ... many ventured into the basement drama room in the last days reaching out with heartfelt connection ... was so happy for that last week of face-to-face ...   ... the wonderful admin staff Renae, Sharon & Lana who were always there with joyous smiles, courtesy, diligence and loyalty sent this beautiful e-mail announcement to the system ... the e-mails and texts came ... each one was cherished ... colleagues posted touching tributes ... FB filled my soul with gracious comments ... reread then all ...  amazing ... was so lucky to have absolutely the most incredible students ... emotionally overwhelming ... wanted to respond to each ... tell them they had enriched my life ... the hidden secret is the student teaches the teacher ... THANK YOU!  It's a wrap ... to all colleagues and especially my beloved students the keys were turned in and giving space to the new ... hope you w...

You play in dreams Blissfully free You shout You work towards dreams They change You age You search new dreams They stop You fail You lose most dreams Feel empty You wonder ... You wish all dreams Would reconcile You laugh You know some dreams Are foolish You cry You watch the dreams Pass by You remember You expand one dream It contracts You resign ... You forget other dreams Too late You reason You memorize last dreams Repeat endlessly You haunt You dream the dreams To death You finalize You dreamed a dream To wake You sigh ::Note::  ... you dreamt... not a dream ...

in the blue-grey lit room  they lie exhale sighs till full vibration open eyes to rose-gold  sunlight breathes  song  ::Note: ... wish everyday started like this day ... At end the day inquired from the student what song he had introduced he replied “For the Dancing and the Dreaming” emailing later ... “The song was written and composed by a man named 'John Powell'. He has composed a very large number of musical numbers for a variety of movies. The arrangement was by a gentleman who goes by the nickname 'ThePandaTooth' he has also done a variety of pieces that can be found around the media world. Here is a link to the original song as performed by the voice actors in the movie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLcrxhE_xQw I also have here a version of the song by a young vocal artist that I really enjoy as well: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0AgkDJ2NHg This version of the song adds a great amount of soul and care to the piece an...

If ... you stay in one place long enough it will come to pass ...  ... a murder, a fire, a break-in, a flood ... a hack, a robbery, graffiti, rats ... police, dog crap, ladybugs, bats ... cats, needles, dumped mattresses, slashed tires ... smashed windows, a leaky roof, sewer backed up, a car on fire ...  ... piles & piles of leaves ... ... dandelions, caterpillars, spiderwebs, spiders ... rehearsals, concerts, workshops & plays ... smoke alarms, power outages, furnace failure, broken plates ... a song, a dance, a film, a murmur ... english, korean, russian, ukrainien ... masks, mandolines, drums, shakers ... luggage, boxes, bags, sacks ...  ... moss on the roof ... ... tree stumps, rocks, fabric, puppets ... chalk, pens, pencils, paints ... love, hate, shouts, tears ... hugs, slaps, bumps, somersaults ... balls, pucks, birdies, ballons ... broken mirrors, burnt toast, cut fingers, bitten tongue ... lost teeth, black eyes, kidney stones, hea...

  It takes time ... leaving turtle island, treaty six territory and homeland of the métis, saskatoon, the temple takes time ... the routine, the paths, the responsibilities, construct a muscular network ...  ... stopover ... at Vancouver airport are class display cases ... I look forward to what they’ll bring ... this one fascinated ... i documented all the writing and took a picture ... TOWUSTASIN STOCKER HAIDA 2017 YVR Art Foundation Youth Art Scholarship Recipient Scholarship Donor: Kasian Architecture Interior Design and Planning Ltd. Aboriginal Metaphysical film and film stills Courtesy of the Artist tao.stocker@gmail.com Aboriginal Metaphysical consists of contemplations in 3 sequences  which manifest as Lo- Fi indigenous retro—futurism, a way of  expressing modern day thoughts & feelings on  intergenerational  trauma and coming to a place of solace by using technology, old or  new  in creative w...

... these days i struggle  ... increasing absence of mind, slowness of recall and inability to remember names... ... visit my grandson who turned seven months old yesterday ... every time we meet his penetrating gaze gives me the impression he needs time to recognize me ... the same day i visit my ninety-three-year-old mother whose conversation circles around in a state of confusion repeating events over & over ... am not sure what she thinks ... can call me by name but i have the impression she needs time to reorganize who we are ... ... in conversations, i stutter ... often because as i start to speak there is so much complexity to what i am about to say i have to stop ... i begin to articulate some point & at the same moment realize another point could also be made & another context is required & i stutter to a stop ... when ... feels like ... copy & paste ... " the penumbra of the eventual personal extinction beginning to extend itself over my bein...

... this morning a bag of shoes were left at the door ... first, a butcher knife now shoes ... both unsettling ... are they connected? ... at least the bag was easier to handle ... place it next to the trash ... things will proceed as usual ... the bag will disappear ... more precisely the two pairs of used runners will move to a new place ... that's the way around here - place anything of any value outside in the front or back or side & within a day it disappears ... except ... ... the purse a few months ago ... that had to be dealt with ... a wallet inside with credit cards, health card, drivers licence, pictures ... no money ... even an iPhone, energy bills, correspondence, make-up, pens, pills, candy ... the purse looked more like a travel bag ... couldn't locate a phone number ... phone was dead ... ... drove to the address ... you see i once found a wallet on the street and went to the police to drop it off ... four months later received a thank you note from ...

... it had never happened ... it could have happened in any one of the other times over the past thirty-three years ... a simple exercise ... face your partner ... one closes their eyes, raises arms & the other gently grabs hold of the wrists ... gently guide your partner ... backwards, forwards, around ... always demonstrated with a volunteer so others could observe ... had taken the class outside to the open field behind the education building just a hop & a skip away from the river ... it was a spring morning & I loved being outside ... we had finished the direction meditation followed by the blind running ... now the partner guide ... ... a large framed male volunteered ... after guiding him we switched ... he took hold of my wrists ... after a few seconds I was spinning around out of control ... could barely hang on ... asked him to slow down and he started to push me backward faster and faster ... I fell head slamming to the ground ... heard the whole class sho...

There's a meme going around, list the top ten albums you listened to as a teen, only one album per group. My Dad was a physicist and had a workshop in the basement ... a fixit master. I believe he wanted me to learn this way. When I said I needed a record player in my room, that the family player in the living room wasn't for me he replied by purchasing a Heathkit turntable. I had to put it all together soldering the transistors and wiring the speakers ... I hated it but wanted desperately to buy records & listen with some sense of privacy. In the end I loved my Heathkit system. Anyway here's the list. This is the stuff I really listened to as a teen. Not only my top ten albums as a teen but as close to order of purchase as memory serves (teen years '66 - '72) Absolutely Free - Mothers of Invention Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band - The Beatles Beggars Banquet - Rolling Stones John Wesley Harding - Bob Dylan Songs to a Seagull - Joni Mitchel...

... have lived for 20 years in what could be considered a pretty nondescript community ... others call it rough ... ... true it is on the "wrong" side of the river ... the west side ... on the edge of "downtown" ... across the railroad tracks ... at the bottom of "C" hill ... should there be any more stereotypes ... one more ... heard "once you turn the corner ya know you're in the hood" ... ... i feel safe ... even though have survived one break in resulting in all electronics stolen, a number of house windows broken, car vandalized, tires slashed, driver window shattered, ignition switch destroyed, even a second car  torched by a fire ... house side graffitied a couple of times ... oh ya ... two homicides less than 100 meters from the yard (2014) ... still feel relatively safe ...  ... yet when opened the backdoor this morning saw a knife on top of the fence post ... it was a bit unsettling ... ... perhaps I should e...

... Miles in Vienna 1973 ... ... was twenty ... two months married & having fled what I felt was the cultural wasteland of my Canadian prairie home, barely a couple of months in Vienna had seen Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention ... was now witnessing Miles Davis ... yes goodbye cultural wasteland ...  ... forty-two years later I stumble on a YouTube of the whole Stadthalle concert ... the mythical memory faces the recorded image …  ... didn't remember any of the visual colors ... remembered the intensity of that single, slim figure focusing the entire energy of the momentary space and time into a place at his feet ... we, the audience, were present only to provide a testimonial vortex of the magnetic center of the mysterious electric field ... ... Miles had has back to us the whole time ... trumpet pointing straight down to his foot peddle ... exploring ... no more of a reaching/searching/probing ...  like one who had seen the abyss ......

... 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, precisel...

If you should go half dreaming where  the soul quietly leaves the body  insensitive to all suffering. saying "I love you." & encounter millions, desiring hundreds  but love only the one who haunts life  & watches death  say "I love you." Then go to the horizon of the impossible  believing happiness will inevitably come. And get rid of your identity, bury it in a hiding place like a secret caught mid-air in a trust so gentle. hearing "I love you." ::Note:: .. . the Temple space has been unused this past month ... have not heated the space ... with the weather extremes yo-yo - melting/freezing ... ice has appeared on the carpet this morning ... like a body ... soon disappeared ... like all the experiments within the Temple space ... reminiscent of   Dante  @ tweet

You bring all you know about a person. Their life, their desires, their dreams, their likes, their dislikes, their duties and their practice.Yet it is the photos that haunt. I remember entering the retirement home on a January evening. The body lay resting on the bed. She rested a lot these days. The mind - well who knows what is in the mind. Not wanting to startle but hoping she would wake, washed the few glasses accumulated from the daily pill taking each morning and night, collected the invoices and flyers sorting then dispatching most to the trash, checked the telephone messages, turned on the television to Law and Order, though not too loud, and waited. Waited what seemed a long time. Only half an hour it turned out to be. I felt she was ok. Still sometimes sleep looks so close to death. Couldn't really hear any sound. She was almost ninety.  - Mom. Mom. I whispered. She didn't stir. I reached down and brushed her shoulder. - What? Oh, hi. My stom...