Poem: Eagle Circling

Outside my high rise window...
an eagle circles...against the light blue back drop...
between two hollow pillars in the sky...
All us people in tight little boxes,,,
high up in the air...
wishing we could fly...
and the eagle circling...and circling...
until the moment he decides...
to fly away to the mountain...
across the water...
................Quester.

River Child

[Verse & Chorus of song "River Child" from cd "Pretty Brown"
Copyright SOCAN]

"On the banks of a river deep and wide...
We grew up with the green trees all around...
And at night we would watch the dancing stars...
And hear the song in every forest sound...
So...come dance with me...
And take me back to where we used to play...
Under the sun where every day was a new dancing day...
We used to play like noisy parrots flying free and wild...
The world outside was just a dream to us my river child..."
.............................................................................Quester.

All Shallows Eve

Children having a time set aside where they can dress up and look for treats...I understand. Adults...having a holiday when they can break out of their cultural straight jacket...and dress and behave in ways they don't usually...I understand. That part
of Halloween...I understand. As with Christmas...however...I cringe at what Halloween has become. In ancient times...it
started out as the most important holiday on the Celtic calendar...the equivalent of November 1st...these days. It was called
"Samhain"...pronounced as "Sah-ween". It was believed that at this time of year...the ghosts of the dead were able to mix
with the living...as they set out for the otherworld. Animals, fruits and vegetables...were sacrificed...in honour of the dead...
to help them along...and keep them from the living. The early Christians looking upon this practice as pagan...by the ninth
century...had changed this Celtic holiday...to "All Hallows" or "All Saints Day". Whatever the merits of these two belief
systems that clashed...this holiday in its early days was rooted in deep belief systems. From where I stand...I see Halloween...
now...as a "commerce fest"...feeding on individual creativity usually being absent...in the predictable...usually movie
influenced costumes...people buy and wear. I see no sign of anything deeper in this exercise...as the cash registers keep on
"blinging". Looks to me like..."All Hallows Eve" over the centuries...has morphed into..."All Shallows Eve"............Quester.

Life With The Guilter Gone

A cold today has given me permission...to let my exercise program be...and some of the time...to catch up to listening...
which I'm doing right now...to a fragment of the myriad pieces of music by other artists available to me. It's funny how...in
order to get anything done usually...I have to make a bargain with myself not to shirk my duties. Sometimes I do...and the
"guilter" in me...nags at me until I catch up. Hence...despite the rigors of experiencing a cold...it's one of those times...when
I can give my guilter a rest...i.e. I'm "under the weather" today...and I'm going to lie low...never mind what needs to be done.
Lately...however...I am catching a glimpse of life with the guilter gone...and me in a "state of flow"...moving from one thing to another...with plenty of opportunities to just BE...rather than let myself be threatened into endless DOING...........Quester.

Second Chance

In about two hours from now...Todd Bertuzzi will skate out in front of one of the crowds most hostile to a single player ever.
For those who have been on Mars for the last eighteen months....Bertuzzi...in March 2004...in response to a player for the
Colorado Avalanche...Steve Moore...having injured the Vancouver Canucks captain Naslund....with a dubious check...
attacked Moore from behind in an inexcusable way...leaving him with injuries he is taking a long time to fully recover from.
[I am rooting for his full recovery]. Tonight's game is the first between these two teams...in Colorado...since that awful night. It seems that despite the retaliation code...well known to exist in the National Hockey
League...given that eighteen months have passed...and both Moore and Bertuzzi have gone through their respective
wringers...the Colorado players are prepared to "just play hockey"...rather than prolong the vendetta. What I am concerned
about...however...is that in the land of guns for anyone who wants them...some "Lee Harvey"...or..."James Earle"...
[conspiracy theories aside]...might use this incident as a lightening rod for "not having a life" and do something stupid and
tragic. So...tonight I'll be rooting for the Canucks...as always...and although I know the crowd is likely to boo like never
before...wish "Big Bert" a safe return from Colorado to Vancouver...leaving his mistake...which I think he has learnt from in
a positive way...behind...for once and for all. I think he deserves a second chance...............Quester.

Deserts Of The Moon

]Verse & Chorus of song: "Deserts of the Moon"
Copyright SOCAN]

"With the quick sailing of the years...
There is a feeling that flies always near...
With no more time for mist and cloud...
You think out loud...where do I go from here?
With your illusions underneath your feet...
You still can dance...but you can't find the beat...
With no more houses made of cards....
You find it hard to play the game...
But through these deserts of the moon...
A green place will come to you soon...
If you take the chance you have won...
To dance under the sun...."
.............................Quester.

Beauty In The Grey

Early afternoon...no blue in the sky...thick banks of light to dark grey clouds all around...with one lightish patch of clouds...
suggesting that all is not lost. At mountain and water level...the grey scape continues downwards...with eight freighters in
the distance...appearing to be anchored in a dream. The foremost range of mountains across the water...is covered with blue grey mist...with the range behind it...a faint echoe...and the ranges I know that lie behind them...blanked out today...with the
water a very muted silver grey. English Bay...different in some way each time you look out upon it...is still beautiful today...
even though...this time round...grey rules the day.................Quester.

Back Home

Left a fog shrouded Vancouver Island this morning...and returned to a Vancouver under sunny skies. the trip was a beautiful
change of pace...but it's also good to be back home..............Quester.

Farm Festival...Random Notes

Went with my hosts to a farm festival yesterday...on the Saanich Peninsula. It was a
tribute to a farm family's versatility...with much to experience. Golden pumpkin...
corn...and scare crow decorations everywhere...a corn maze with children stepping off the saw dust track...and shreiking their delight and hiding among the tall stalks...
a pumpkin toss...with young men showing off their talent for heaving things...to adoring
young women...Shetland ponies pulling Cinderella-like carriages...two llamas...with
dignified faces...Edmund and Indy...born on the fourth of July...eagerly reaching to
hands feeding them with corn husks...a tractor pulled ride through fruit trees...some
still with golden apples on and below them...a blue grass band rollicking through chirpy tunes interspersed with tear jerkers...children with their flushed faces
painted with Halloween colours...and more. It was good to be outdoors...and getting a glimpse of the good side of farm life...all on a pleasant temperatured afternoon...with
good company and friendly farm people...having been city bound too long......Quester.

Homes Away From Home

I have been a very fortunate recipient of the hospitality of others...as I'm
experiencing right now with the people I'm visiting. Over many years of touring in Europe and Canada...in between the sojourns in solitary hotel rooms...I've been met at
airports...trains and bus stations...many times by people I had never met previously...
who then welcomed me cheerfully into their homes...and took good care of me. The catalyst was often my music that brought these meetings on...with a concert in the
area I had come to...but the actual meetings with these "strangers"...and some who had
become riends over previous visits...redeemed my faith in human kind...as they gave of
themselves and their homes...to help me on my way. I've lost track of many of these people...and sometimes wonder about how they are faring. They...and their kindness...will
always remain a bright spot in my life as a troubadour...sometimes...far away from
my own home................Quester.

Random Trip Notes

I took the ferry to the Big Island yesterday...sailing on peaceful waters. Noticed the
interesting patterns on the ocean surface...and couldn't help wondering what caused them. A woman from North Dakota sitting nearby...was wondering about the same thing.
She called herself a "nature girl"...and kept marvelling at the beauty...on and across
the water...reminding her husband that there wasn't anyrhing like this where they came
from. It was a fine day for crossing...the sun coming out of thick clouds from time
to time. The skies combining with the water and its myriad shades of grey and blue...and sometines...muted silver...and with closer dark islands or misted ones
further away...to weave a dream tapestry...that we were priviliged to be sailing through. On Vncouver Island...we passed a picture Vicent Van Gogh would have painted...
a large field of bright orange pumpkins...with blue...grey...and red jacketed parents
and children...weaving slowly through them...intent on choosing their perfect
Halloween pumpkins. I arrived at my destination...feeling refreshed by all I had seen...to meet again with some good people...in one of my favourite places...Victoria...British Columbia................Quester.

Many Paths

[Verse & Chorus of song "Many Paths"
Copyright SOCAN]

"So many songs of praise and longing...
like a rainbow rising...
So many paths that lead us to...
our one place of belonging...
Peace be with you...
though our paths are many...
We will meet at journey's end...
you and me..."
...................................Quester.

In Praise Of West Coast Ferries

Am looking forward to a ferry trip to Vancouver Island tomorrow. The ferry may be a transportation link to the Big Island...
but to me this trip...and other boat trips in this beautiful part of the world...are more than that. I always get the feeling that
I'm sailing through a place on this Earth where legends are born...with mountains on islands in the mist across the water...
eagles in the sky...and the feeling that you are already on a holiday...whatever your business may be. A
relative was telling me how...when she was on this very ferry ride a few weeks ago...she saw a pod of killer whales...moving
their majestic way through the water...not too far from the ship she was on. I've done my share of long train rides across the
prairies...or the forested continent of Ontario...but taking a ferry on this West Coast I'm priviliged to live on...is...indeed
my favourite way of getting to where I'm going...................Quester.

The Particularity Gene

Some years ago...I bought a small carving of a male and female figure I thought was made of one piece of wood...from a grizzled man who was carving them...by the sea wall path....at English Bay. I gave it to the person I was walking with and thought I would pay the carver a compliment and said to him: "You're doing some nice work carving these figures out of
wood". He looked at me eyes flashing and said: "I never carve wood!...all I ever carve is bark!"...followed by a disdainful look at how anyone could make such a stupid mistake. As is my wont...I reflected on this incident after...and came to the
conclusion that I had run afoul of the "particularity gene" in some human beings...that tends to manifest in no uncertain
terms. In the old movie "Some like it hot"...one of the characters...was it Marilyn herself?...speaks about always falling for
saxophone....or was it tenor saxophone?..players. [My not being totally specific here...is undermining this story about someone...also being very specific about a type of choice in their lives...but I think you get the idea]. I am happy to report
that song writer/singer/poet people...are sometimes big beneficiaries from this wild card streak manifesting in some human
beings...in this case bursting through parental training of their female offspring...to stay away from such "head in the clouds" types...and always choosing reliable money makers...instead. It could be said...that this kind of preference by some human beings...is the "joker in the pack" that life deals out to people...by passing majority held beliefs about what we should like or dislike...or who we should associate with. This wild card...sometimes "levels the playing field"...or underlines the uniqueness of each human being...bringing spice to the "pot of life". Without this "particularity gene"...as I call it...turning up sometimes where we least expect it...life would likely be a predictable and boring thing....................Quester.

People Of The Salmon

From Alaska...through British Columbia...Washington...and into Oregon...the salmon for hundreds of years...and to this day...
has been very important...to the First People of this part of the world. The salmon was one of the central sources of food for
the people. In the tradition among Native Peoples throughout the Americas...of honouring the gifts of the Earth that
sustain them...the descendents of the original inhabitants...in some parts of the West Coast...still hold First Salmon Ceremonies...welcoming and honouring the first salmon of the new season. That is why...when I think of the Native American
People...who have lived for thousands of years...along this most beautiful part of the Earth...I think of them as "The People
of the Salmon". Some years ago I was asked by the Vancouver School Board...to write songs about these people...and did.
This is the chorus of the title song for this project...which I sang in all the elementary schools in Vancouver...in many parts
of British Columbia...and on one occasion...in Washington: "People of the Salmon...I can hear you...Through the ocean mist
I hear your song...I can hear your drum beat...echoing...calling...I can hear your song...so deep and strong..........Quester.

Poem: Grey Sunday Morning

Grey Sunday morning on Grouse Mountain...
nothing new there...but all that gathers is not gloom...
Spring is prettying the land...
with pink and yellow and blue bursts everywhere...
It's only me at my wheel...rolling on a foggy highway...
without my wind shield wipers working...
Wobbling through the days with a slipped perspective...
is something I know I can do better than...
having goosed myself out of that so many times before...
Practice...has not made me perfect...
but it has given me a Houdini-like confidence...
that despite stumbling around with my head in a shroud...sometimes...
I can wriggle out of another overcast Sunday...
and still be standing...
come a rainy Monday morning...
.....................................Quester.

Tears To Jewels

Part of a song called..."Put it inside a song"...I wrote years ago says: "Put it inside a song...this feeling that will not leave...
Send it to the tearful sky...and let the morning be...You are a lucky one...not mute as the stone that cries...not free as the
bird that flies...but cannot sing a song". The chorus goes on to say: "You're past the time a cup of tea will do...Sweetened with words you know that are not true...This is your flood and you must learn to swim...No one but you can change this place
you're in". We who have songs or poems or other creations to put our deepest darkest feelings in...are indeed fortunate to
have such an outlet for what we are going through...although...of course...we would have had to fight a long battle to
arrive at such a place. Rudyard Kipling...the British Victorian poet said: "Laugh and the world laughs with you...weep and you
weep alone". I think most of us human beings understand that...and so we usually keep a tight lid on talking about what
we're really going through. It is one of life's disciplines that helps us to survive. If we were to keep telling people about our
suffering...we know that those we tell it to will turn off...having heard our "tale of woe" one time too many ...or simply make sure...they are not around to hear it. And so...we learn to automatically say: "I'm doing fine"...knowing it would be counter-
productive to tell about where we're really at...and the world goes round...with a lot of people hurting...but not too many
talking about it. So...those of us who have learnt to transmute what we are going through into a creation...if we're lucky...
are indeed fortunate...and have another blessing to count in our lives. We have become "alchemists"...having learnt...as we
walk the pilgrim's earhly path...to turn tears to jewels..........................Quester.

Sweet...Sad...Sunday Songs

[Chorus of song...Sweet...Sad...Sunday Songs
Copyright SOCAN]

"So sing...sing with me...
so we all can go on...
reaching to the sky...
with the sound of our song...
It's taken me long...
but now I understand...
why we used to sing...
those sweet...sad...Sunday songs..."
..........................................Quester.

On Any Given Day

[Mostly written on the #10 bus today]. To a loud bang...not out of place in shoot out territory...the #10 Hastings comes to
a violent halt. It's not the other...it's only its double prongs connected to the power above that have slipped off their feed
suppliers. We are at a stand still opposite the Balmoral Hotel...don't think that queen stays in this one...something tells me...
in the toughest block in Vancouver....or for that matter...anywhere else. Looks like the bus is needing a fix too...in the drug
dealing and receiving hub of the city. The driver gets out and does his thing...and soon we resume our voyage through the
under belly of Vancouver. The prisoners of these side walks...however...remain behind. A woman in a long light purple dress
and a tattered white wedding veil...hand out stetched for offerings that never seem to arrive. Women and men doing that
strange spastic dance in these parts they call "the Tijuana Two Step". I'm still not sure whether the cause is needing a fix
badly or just having had one...men sleeping in nooks along the sidewalks...seemingly oblivious to those stepping over and around them...pan handlers reaching out for a piece of silver mercy...solitary figures stumbling through alleyways from hell
...grizzled men with hawk eyes and snakes in their smiles...hovering in doorways. It is like that in this place on any given day
...with the lost losing a little more each day. What and who have failed here?. What is the cause beyond all the posturing
politicking and excuses? Are these the inevitable casualties in an every man and woman for him or her self society? Are these bad personal choices looking for company where it will be found?. Is it the natural outcome for those who were born into
bleakness?. Is it the result of the "haves" not caring what happens to the "have nots"....the list of reasons given by those with
different axes to grind goes on...but they say a new mayor for this place and rest of this city is coming soon................Quester.

What You Keep And What You Sweep

Today...not having done it for quite a while...I deleted about 120 emails going back to the beginning of this year. On the one
hand it's a slightly onerous exercise...on the other...what you choose to keep...and what you choose to delete...can sometimes be...a commentary on where you're at in your life...or...on your likes and dislikes. Despite usually deleting spam
as soon as it comes into view...today...there was still some more to clear out and the ones I came across are now gone. Then
there is the category of "forwardings"...I get a lot of those. They...of course make assumptions about what my interests are...
and are not always accurate in assuming interest. I kept some of the ones that might prove to be humourous...once I get round to really focussing on them...and ones about what's going on in my country of origin...Guyana...and definitely ones
about the culture and language there...also interesting ones about human or language origins. However...most of the rest of
material sent for my perusal...was finally dispatched. Then there were the collective emails...i.e. ones sent out with many
readers in mind...even by people you know quite well. My own preference with these people...is to hear from them "person
to person"...and not via the "chopped liver",,,"many birds with one stone" approach. I find something impersonal about these.
Some of them were sent on their merry way today. Some news letters...even ones about spy ware and cyber security and
soft ware...some about poets and poetry...some containing "minutes to meetings"...which are one of my least favourite items
of interest...were dispatched...fitting the criterion..."you didn't read them when you first received them...you haven't read
them since"...so whatever their merits may be...they are "gonzo"...now. There were other casualties of today's rampage...or
should I say "fall cleaning"...but now...is a good time to mention what I ended up keeping. There were two main categories
here...I noticed. A few of the ones that seem to have been generated from the under belly of the world I live in...including a
few laughable attempts at swindling the foolish...and one from a "foxy lady" who I do not know...I am not saving this one "for a rainy day"...but for "poetic reasons"...just like the swindly ones...feeling there's are creative possibilities in them. Lastly...and most importantly...call me sentimental if you wish...I ended up keeping all the "person to person" emails I've received...from people I know...or new friends who have reached me since I became email reachable. That for me...is at the core of my finally having brought "emailing" into my life...........................Quester.

Reflections On Acorn Caps

On this sunny afternoon...I walked on East 7th...under a stretch of tall browning and goldening oaks above me...with pieces
they could no longer hang on to...at my feet. Among their leaf sheddings...were brown acorns...turning the side walks into
a kicker's "field of dreams". But what really caught my eye...this time...as before...were the acorn caps...pretty as always...
and displaying why in some ancient circles...they were looked upon as drinking cups for the little people. Seeing them again...brought back memories of when they had first registered on my consciousness. It was the time...a few years ago...
when I was experiencing...a great picture making fervour...wanting to extend what kinds of materials I would use in making
my pictures...and one day seeing these little bowls...with tiny bumps on their outsides...giving them an attractive texture... as candidates for going into a picture...that was a bit different from the ones I'd done before. I remember collecting them
from under these very trees I walked under today...and finding a way to glue them to the canvas surface...to make raised
patterns on a picture. I was thinking of how that picture still hangs on my living room wall...but if I were asked to go acorn
cup gathering...this current season of my life...I would likely say..."no". This is not a commentary on the picture I once made
with them...I still like it. Instead...it's a simple recognition...as they say in Guyana...that "after a time...is another time"...and
that...that is not where my creative passions...lie these days. This afternoon's "reflections on acorn caps'...were also a
reminder to ride with the passions you are currently in...for as long as they let you...knowing that they too have their seasons
...coming and going...so easily.......................Quester.

No, Not Columbus

Years ago I wrote a song called..."No, Not Columbus". The chorus said..."No, not Columbus...he thought he'd reached India
....a very long...long time ago...who do you think found America". The response to this song on the whole...
has been affirmative...with a few knee jerk reactions...with the charge of "heresy" not too far behind...in between. A teacher at a school where I had just finished singing this song...once told me..."how can you say this about someone who is one of our heroes". This surprised me coming from a teacher...someone who is supposed to teach their students...I think...about truth seeking and independent mindedness. Perhaps this teacher hadn't mulled over what I was trying to say...in the following verse...which said..."No...it wasn't a man with a long red beard...or an endless Pepsodent smile...was a little brown man with an arrow and bow...who'd been hunting for many a mile". [N.B. I later wrote a revised version of this song that allowed that it could have been a "little brown woman" also]. This verse...holds the key to what I was getting at with this song. It was that...with Native People of the Americas...inhabiting what is now called North...Central...and South America...for such a long time before Columbus got lost on his way to India...it is a highly Euro-centric thing to say...that the first well advertised European...who came here..."discovered the Americas". This statement...at one fell swoop...relegates those who brought into being the Inca...Maya...Atztec civilizations...not to mention all the other Native People who have occupied the Americas...without destroying the environment that gave them sustenance...to less than human status. What it all boils down to...is that the flat statement that "Columbus discovered the Americas"...is nothing less than a racist statement...not to mention the claims that before Columbus...others not indigenous to the Americas...set foot here...the Vikings...Chinese...and Phoenicians...to mention a few........................Quester.

Blog Cleansing

For a while now...I've been experiencing frustration with the "comments" section of my blog. The spammers have discovered it...and in their dimness...or with their robotic practices...have not twigged that the space provided for "comments"...was for
precisely that...and not futile pieces of spam. Thinking I could appeal to their good sense...about a week ago...I posted a
piece titled..."The fruitlessness of spamming me". Within a half hour or less...it had attracted two pieces of spam!. It was then I twigged to the fruitlessness of this approach. Since then I've lived with the spectre of pieces of spam being forever embedded...among my postings about life. Today...overcoming my Third World reluctance to try out new functions with the
technology provided...I finally looked at the "help" part of my blog...and quantum leaping...for me...started using the garbage
can available under the "comment" heading...to delete these invasions into my blog...of the last week. I then changed the "word verification" setting to "yes"...which I've read blocks the machine spammers. I may yet figure out how to delete spam that came in prior to this last week. Even so...right now...I feel like I've finally found the secret of repelling irrelevant and futile pieces of misguided opportunism...otherwise known as spam...from my blog. I feel like dancing.............Quester.

Awesome

If I were asked...which word in the English language...in the twenty-first century...from inappropriate and prolonged popular
usage...has lost it's original meaning...I would say that the word "awesome"...is the choice...by a country mile. The internet
dictionary definition of this word is: "Inspiring awe or admiration or wonder". My example of its appropriate usage would be
what the followers of Moses could have justifyably said...as the Red Sea parted before them. Instead...for some time now...I have heard it used...as a response...in situations like...someone declaring to his friends...that he has ordered...a double cheese burger with fries...someone saying she has written a haiku about the flooding of New Orleans...[N.B. What Hurricane Katrina did to cities on the Gulf...may be described...appropriately...with the word in question...but a haiku about it...even before it is heard...despite the ego involved in thinking there are words to describe something such as this...not.]...someone commenting on a t-shirt he bought at a department store...with the words "2010 Olympics" on it...as if he had just scaled Mount Everest. The list goes on and on. Everyone should know...that trivialities such as the ones noted...can never be appropriately described...by the word being discussed. There's got to be a reason why this word is used so prevalently...these days...in our culture. Some suggestions why: Lazyness...fear of using a vocabulary of more than fifty words...talking without thinking,,,being automatic in one's responses...wanting to make who you're talking to...with a similarly depleted bank of words...feel at home. On the other hand...the usage of this word...might simply be expressing...a sense of wonder and appreciation...at the slightest thing brought to your attention...in a world where...instead...you could so easily be excluded from the conversations of others. If that is the case...all I have to say is..."awesome!"............................Quester.

I Will Not Be A Gossip's Tale

"If I should walk into the sea...I know what will become of me...A story told...if it is told...with no resemblance to me". This is
the verse of a song I wrote some years ago called "I am wind". I was thinking...among other things that day...of a very fine
Chilean woman song-writer...who had written an especially beautiful song...among others...giving thanks for life...but who one day...walked out into the ocean...and did not return to the shore. I wrote this song...looking out on to grey skies and a
dark ocean...and beginning to feel the pull...doing this for any length of time...can exert on you. The song goes on to say...no...I won't surrender to the pull...I will not be a gossip's tale...I will continue on to be. In my time...hearing people talk of individuals who are no longer with us...reading books...or looking at documentaries about people who have passed on...I have always had the sense...that those who offer chapter and verse about those departed...are not very likely to
ever tell the real story of the person they are writing or talking about...given the complexity of human beings...the wounds
that childhood often inflicts...and the enormous inner struggles people go through...wihout telling anyone about them...
and more. Perhaps...that is as good a reason as any...for all human beings to tell their own stories...while they are still alive...
in some way...rather than leave no mention of their passage on Earth...or leave it to others to come up...with the story of
their lives...that can never really plumb their depths and widths...agonies...and overcomings...without easily slipping in to
being...nothing more than...a "Gossip's Tale"....................Quester.

Damning With Faint Praise And Obliviousness

One of the hardest things to do as a performer...is to do so in front of family..."friends"...or those who are specialists in
"damning you with faint praise". Often...these people have a particular knack for saying what the performer doesn't want to hear...as they totally ignore what you really have to offer. They say things like: "that's a good looking guitar you've got there"
...or..."that's a nice looking jacket for singing in you're wearing tonight"...or..."you were too close to the mike"... or..."you were too far fom the mike"...or..."why didn't you sing a Beatles song?"...or..."why didn't you wear your Hawaiian shirt with the big red hibiscuses [or is that "hibiscii?"] I gave you for Christmas?"...or..."why do you seem to be leaning forward when you sing?" ["to compensate for a freakin' guitar across my middle pushing me backwards!" is the answer which you never give]...or..."that young guy with the red hair on the program had a lovely voice...didn't he?"...or..."why didn't you sing Summertime now that it's that time of year?". The list of dumb utterances goes on and on...leaving you lacerated if you let it...and wondering which planet these beings are from...who are without a shred of empathy for your actual work...or for the hardships involved in getting up in front of an audience...and pouring your soul out...into a sea of indifference. Just remembered...that being damned with faint praise or obliviousness...is not confined to stage performances...so...I'd like to thank the person who asked me to tell them...when I'm going to have my "little cd launch"...and the person who "commenting" on my blog the other day...wrote that I had "a nice little blog".................................Quester.

Sixteen Sprites On A Rope

[Written yesterday]. This afternoon...in a library in East Vancouver...I witnessed a sight I had never seen before...sixteen
children of kindergarten age...milling around the lobby...with a long rope with attachments at their feet...waiting probably
for one of their teachers to return. At first I wondered whether I was about to be entertained by a library sponsored tug-o-war. When all were finally re-assembled...the penny finally dropped for me. The rope had a series of little nooses attached
to it...and a Jim Jones in Guyana thing...this time without kool aid..flickered across my mind...but was quickly dismissed...
although I was left wondering if the rope with nooses was somehow a metaphor...for how their education and socializing
would unfold. One by one...sometimes with the help of a teacher...a child took hold of his or her noose. At the age when all
of them...no doubt...at home...were clinging to their security blankets...they were...in public...hanging on to their "security
rope"...with a teacher at each end of it...and them in between. The stumbly little chain gang then trouped out of the
library...overcoming a tangle with an obstinate door...and disappeared into the east end streets. Learn something every day
they say...this day I certainly did...leaving me with much to ponder..................Quester.

Stories Of Our Earth Walk

Each of us has a story to tell. The ancient Greeks knew what they were doing when they came up with the story of Odysseus...
and his wanderings and overcomings of large obstacles...over many years. From the time we are born we are overcoming
obstacles...so...we are each...indeed...on an odyssey...nothing less. There are many people who may feel...who me?...tell a
story?...write a book?...there hasn't been much of note that happened in my life. This may be "modest"...or the person saying
it...may have a blind spot...but from the time we came into this world...we have been experiencing all kinds of challenges...
and somehow...dealing with them or overcoming...to the extent that we have survived to this day. Living life is actually full
of natural dramas...turning away from temptations...learning new life skills that are difficult...overcoming physical
challenges...or stereotypes...simply surviving...or much more. These things are all grist for the mill of the stories of our lives.
If there is one thing I would like to share with others who would like to start telling their stories...but feel it's somehow
frivolous to do so...is that each of our stories...for the reasons just mentioned...and others...is deserving of being told. The
other sobering thing...is that the time we have to tell our stories is a limited thing...something we should remember as we
keep on postponing the telling. So...may the world be filled with the stories from the Earth Walk we each are on...and from
the telling may we find out more about who we really are...while there is time..........................Quester.

Solitude

I have grown to appreciate the riches of solitude over the last few years. I am...also...of course...aware of how after giving you much...it can slip into loneliness...but...most of the time...I do not equate solitude with loneliness. This afternoon...once again..I sit by the Inukshuk...[just read on a plaque of how the Inuit use ihese structures...suggesting a human being with arms out-stretched...as a land mark...and as a navigation tool]. Perhaps...in a strange...or not so strange way...this one is helping me to navigate a solitary afternoon. One of the main riches of solitude...is how...in it...I find myself creating songs...poems...pictures...or for that matter...postings for my blog. For most who create...solitude...is the fecund matrix from which creation usually comes. This afternoon as I sit...a coolish breeze in my face...the sun shining...looking at a finger of the Pacific...and beckoning blue mountains...some with their tops disappearing into thick clouds...but with a wide and deep bowl of blue above me...I think of two other benefits of solitude. The first is that...with no one around to fight with...unless you are making war on youself...you will be at peace. The other is that...in solitude...you can be free of anyone else's stereotype of you...with your mind and imagination...free to drift to high and unconquered places...beyond the limiting prisons...that those
who do not really know you...make for you...free to fly and find out...some more about who you really are...........Quester.

The Fruitlessness Of Spamming Me

I wish spammers of all stripes would sense...twig...figure out...that any communication they may send to me...cluttering my
post box...disrupting my peace when I answer the phone...causing me to over exercise my fore-finger as I click "delete" on my email...or junking up my blog...is a totally fruitless exercise. I have taught myself never to say "never"...but the chances of any of these...sometimes crude invasions of my life...convincing me to buy something from any of these invaders...are less than in the astronomical odds identifying a serial flasher...in a DNA match. Ever since...many years ago...I stumbled half awake to answer the door bell...and signed up for a paid subscription for sports magazines...I kept on receiving it seemed for years after...I have become a non-patsy in the face of huckstering of any kind. Over many years...I've made a list of some things I think I "need"...and after due consideration and sometimes investigation...I may buy something on my list...when I choose to buy it...and where I choose to buy it from...when I'm good and ready. So...spammers beware...I am not likely to buy anything ever...from anyone bent on manipulating me...for their own ends...or crassly invading my space...be aware that your efforts ...aimed in my direction...are totally wasted.........................Quester.

Sun Wheel

[Verse from song "Sun Wheel"...
Copyright-SOCAN]

"Sun wheel...ride above the green...spin...sun wheel...
Circle to the west...'cross Amazona...
Thirsty winds blow from the far savanna...
Rain is hiding somewhere over yonder...
Midday shimmers on the distant blue skies...
As the swamp birds bend their sleepy heads...
Round are the sounds that sing around the tall trees...
Nothing jerks or jingles in the jungle..."
...............................................Quester.