Isn’t Nuclear War & Slave Labour Enough Stimulation?

It’s a crazy world when people obsess over watching the Oscars and today’s so-called “Heritage classic’ hockey game in Vancouver, when right now so much is going on across the world, & in our own country.  Not saying people should not have a good time, enjoy their leisure time.  Not saying “don’t watch the Oscars, or “you should not watch the hockey game”.  Just wondering how many people give considerable thought to the bigger picture.  Not expecting everyone to be running around being “activists’ all the time, but asking what are people doing to at least be informed, if not taking action here and there, to make this world a better place.  It’s not easy being informed today.  The Internet & electronic communication has only isolated us more, allowed people to hang out in the little tiny cubbyholes they like to, rather than reading today’s newspaper, or all watching the 6:00 news, listening to the radio.  We will perhaps never have another elvis, another Beatles, another John Wayne or John F. Kennedy, or Mother Teresa, because we are enveloped by the Internet.  By Facebook, Twitter, Tumbler, smartphones, tablets, i-pods,  an ever-expanding universe of websites growing in number literally exponentially.  Surely we cannot minimize the fact that right now, Russia appears to be invading Ukraine, & the West is forced to figure out how best to respond.  I don’t know about you, but I feel a tad uncomfortable at the thought that many people may die, especially if this situation escalates. There have been many large-scale wars over the years, & they all began with relatively little skirmishes.  And this situation hasn’t been “little”. Nuclear weapons have a way of affecting a lot of people, like millions,  in a very short span of time, like seconds.  And then, I discovered that the Tetley tea sitting in my cupboard was harvested literally by slave workers including children & the elderly in India.  Our own Prime Minister & his “government”, is changing every facet of Canada & what it means to be Canadian.  That alone is something we could catalogue very easily but would take hours, the scope of it is that large.  Suffice it to say that now Harper is literally changing how our democracy will work with the so-called “Fair elections Act”, and is handcuffing labour, environmental groups, scientists, and anyone who dissents, with other legislation. I find it challenging to keep all of these things in perspective sometimes.  Yes, by all means, go have a good time!  Do it often!  Live life to the fullest, and live in the moment.   Just make some of those moments  contribute towards future moments, comparable to growing food.  In order to have crops to harvest and food on the table next year, you have to enrich the soil, add water, ensure there is adequate sunlight.  the investment of time and effort along the way may just prove to be a s fruitful as the food you eat later.

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sunday morning

“sunday morning” by silvercharm

Sunday April 6, 2008

 

When consciousness began to return this morning, after another night of sleeping on the sofa, I fully expected normalcy to start up as well. The usual noise and bustle of the city life. Clamour, in all its manifestations. Beginning with one of the pets shifting their weight as they laid on my stomach. Sure enough one was parked at their customary station, only lower down. I groaned as she reluctantly jumped to the floor.

 

With that experience under my belt, I sat up and waited. There would be noise, I was sure: a car door slamming, the washing machine from downstairs or perhaps the strains of music heavily laden with a relentless bass. Or the phone would begin ringing any second. Or I’d realize it was raining yet again, and focus on the sound of the water running over the gutters and splashing onto the sidewalk.

 

Maybe one of the troops would begin meowing or whimpering, wanting breakfast. Which would incite a chorus from the rest of the ranks. Getting to the bathroom would be a trip, staggering in between a forest of legs and tails. All of their eyes looking up at me, searchingly, wondering how I could place using the bathroom higher on the list of priorities than feeding them first.

 

But there was nothing; just an uncharacteristic silence. There were no car doors shutting, no motorcycles zooming around, no airguns driving nails into the house being renovated down the block. The phone didn’t ring. There were no signs of activity from the people below me either. The clock showed it was just after eight. Amazing, I thought, they must be asleep still. And it wasn’t raining. Sunlight had found its way between the slats of the blinds, giving the room a warm, golden look.

 

One of the cats yawned and brushed my leg, her tail curving appreciatively as I scratched her ears on my way to the bathroom. She didn’t employ that trademark tactic she knows so well – blocking my path and sitting on her haunches, front legs together and rigid. Staring up at me earnestly, as if reminding me that she always comes first, and didn’t I already know she was half starved and near collapse from lack of attention?

 

I actually had time to make a coffee. I was about to take a careful sip of the steaming frothy latte, when I noticed that all five creatures had assumed their places in formation. Beside the empty food dishes. Five sets of eyes and ears and tails. All waiting patiently, for the moment. Even the dog.

 

But at least there was silence. A peaceful feeling took over. There was no noise of any kind. Everything in the kitchen was as I’d left it the night before. There were no urgent matters requiring my immediate and undivided attention. And I didn’t have to hurry anywhere. It was a day off from work, and I didn’t need to be anywhere by a certain minute.

 

It was Sunday, after all. Perhaps this would be a day to pause and reflect. Do some reading and journalling. And listen to music, my own music, and not have to endure someone else’s choice. I could turn up my favourite songs and enjoy each note, revel in each bar. Really hear the cymbals, and guitar riffs. The whole range a vocalist sings.

 

Or catch up on yard work. Just because Spring was taking her time to settle down and stay a while, didn’t mean I couldn’t tidy up the garden and plant some of the flowers and shrubs I’d bought yesterday. In fact, I was completely free to do whatever I pleased. I could go back to sleep and take myself out to breakfast or brunch later, and have one of those Elvis burgers. The kind with an outrageous half pound of pure beef, and topped with two kinds of cheese and avocado.

 

After a satisfying and decidedly decadent meal like that, I could grab a coffee and stroll the beach. Listen to the noises of nature – gulls and crows crying as they swoop through the crisp April breeze.

 

I could walk on the moist hardened sand just beyond the reach of the waves, and listen to my inner voices without distraction. Watching each wave as it washes ashore, pushing bits of green seaweed in, then sliding back, revealing shells and tiny pebbles. The water gurgling as it retreats.

 

Then I could start walking back to the car, knowing that my garden was next on my list, people-watching as I go. The young families of three, a baby bundled up in the stroller. The pensive expressions of those out alone, contemplating some profound enigmatic issue, or perhaps not thinking at all. Just out like I was, enjoying a moment of solitude and tranquility. The ubiqituous couples. Walking slowly arm in arm, or hand in hand, or one with an arm around the other, in a comforting embrace. Stopping for a kiss, just because.

 

Yes, this is going to be a great day, I thought, as I sat in the nook looking out at the mountains. There’s something to be said for living in the city; it’s not all about noise and rushing to make appointments. There is also access and time to do whatever the heart desires. Why not begin with vanilla yogurt and strawberries, and take it from there. After all, I’m free.

 

And it’s Sunday, for crying out loud

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