Home Away From Home--Guest Contribution from Barry

Periods away from home are often times for trying new things, and so here I am doing my first blog post ever!   Is Facebook or Twitter in my future?    I doubt it.

Toronto and CN Tower, seen from Harbourfront

At Future Bakery, on Bloor West in the Annex

Cherry blossoms draw a Mother's Day crowd in High Park

By first going to Toronto, Marilyn's sabbatical/my leave of absence from work is off to a start akin to eating "comfort food".    Indeed Toronto has become a home away from home that we have visited regularly (2-4 times a year) ever since Emily went to the U of T as a first-year university student in 2001.   (In Canada, one does not go to college as a freshman and live in a dorm; instead one attends university as a first-year student and lives "in residence".)   Many of our recent visits here have been at a leisurely pace, with time spent reading The Globe and Mail instead of the NYT, visiting favorite spots such as Future Bakery or that neat ceramics store on Harbord, and gradually expanding our knowledge of Toronto's many neighborhoods and parks through walks, bike rides, or streetcar journeys.   With one of the most diverse populations of any world city, the food here is not bad either (except for, strangely, pizza).

This visit was particularly well-timed because these six days in May swept in Emily's birthday (May 3), her wedding shower (yesterday),  and Mother's Day today--on a beautiful early spring day here, with the cherry trees in full bloom in High Park drawing big crowds to enjoy the sight.   We also had a little time for a one-night B&B getaway to Prince Edward County one hundred miles east of here on Lake Ontario.

The death of Osama bin Laden this past week has prompted many reflections.   Being in Canada, I would offer that among the ugly legacies of al Qaeda and the trillions spent and many lives lost to combat it is the "hardening" of the US/Canada border, with increased wait times, more questions being asked and passports (or passport cards) now being required to cross it.   With travel between the US and Canada being more difficult,  the two societies, I think, have been drifting apart for the past ten years, which is sort of sad.  Another change is that ten years ago the loonie was 65 cents and now it's over a buck.   As for us, however, we will always keep coming back to Canada.

Church of the Redeemer, midtown Toronto

Our church "home away from home" for most of the past ten years has been Church of the Redeemer at the busy intersection of Bloor and Avenue Road in midtown Toronto near the Royal Ontario Museum and the U of T.  Redeemer Church is a remarkable place that almost closed down twenty or so years ago but has since come back to life ministering to an urban population, many with ties to the university and gay/lesbian communities.   The service there is a little different, with the congregation gathered in concentric circles around the altar during the eucharist.   Its rector (called an "incumbent" here), the Reverend Andrew Asbil, has played a big role in Redeemer's comeback and is one of my favorite preachers.

Christ Church Deer Park, Toronto

Today, however, we attended Christ Church Deer Park near Yonge and St Clair in Emily's neighborhood.   It's the urban church where she and John will be married on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend this year.   We've been there for service several times now and it, too, seems like a lively place. Christ Church Deer Park is well known locally for its biweekly jazz vespers.

In our travels in Canada over the years, the Anglican churches we have attended have not always appeared vibrant, but, happily, these two are.

Tomorrow we will be leaving our home away from home and will hope to feel at home in more distant and unfamiliar places.

Life and Breath

This morning we saw an astonishing art installation at Harbourfront Centre in Toronto.  We were touring around the waterfront, viewing artist workshops, watching glass be blown and fabric hangings made.  We found a small gallery and stumbled upon the installation of the work by Max Streicher called "Sextet."  It was made in 1996.  They were 6 huge human figures made of Tyvek.   They were arranged in a circle with an umbilicus of an air hose from each figure connected to a blower.  Periodically the blower would start up and the figures "come to life."  They would dance and struggle to be reborn each time.  Then the blower would stop and they would die again.  Over and over, resuscitation and death.  It was amazing and more than a little creepy.  It looked like something out of the X Files.

"Sextet" by Max Streicher (1996).  Harbourfront Centre.  Image provided by the artist on Google Images.

You hide your face, and they are terrified;
you take away their breath, and they die and return to their dust.

You send forth your Spirit, and they are created;
and so you renew the face of the earth.                 [Psalm 104:30-31]

An astonishing image of renewal and death that I hope not to forget for a while, at least ...

Being Other

Traveling as an American, or as any other person who carries a label for others, it's been interesting to hear people engage us in conversation about the killing of Osama bin Laden.  I must confess a bit of defensiveness:  hey, I'm not the one who pulled the trigger or made the call.  There are shades of gray in everything and especially this event.  But it's interesting to be away from home and encounter the strong, unshaded opinions of others on an event like this. Interesting to take a deep breath and allow people to have the time they need to be critical or supportive.  Interesting to be an American away.

The Hindu Mandir in NW Toronto~ 24,000 carved stones fitted together; finished in 2 years' time.

Yesterday we had another experience that was an experience of being "Other."  Our daughter Emily took us to a Hindu temple complex on the NW side of Toronto, right up against the highway.  This is called the BAPS Swaminarayan Complex.  It consists of 2 large buildings, a short, teak carved all-purpose building where they hold meetings and educational events for men, women, and kids; as well as a breathtaking large temple. This temple was build in just 2 years, and everything was carved by hand in India.  24,000 pieces of carved rock fitted together afterward with no supporting metal in the structure.  We weren't allowed to photograph inside, unfortunately.

The entrance to what we could call the "parish hall"

Upon entering the "parish hall," women go to the left and men to the right.  You put your shoes in a cubby and walk around in socks...

Inside the temple the construction was very reminiscent of a mosque we had visited in Cordoba, Spain.  This mosque had been built in the Middle Ages and then was re-appropriated as a Christian church at a later time.  But the structure and decorations remained very much the same within the mosque.  It was amazing to see how both a Hindu and Muslim place of worship echoed the other's form.  A huge difference between the two was the Hindu use of images for the divine (humans and animals) vs the Muslim proscription of any images (and hence the proliferation of decorative elements such as calligraphy--the elevation of the Word as the beauty of Art).

Inside we were told there was to be silence, as this was a place of meditation.  And there the boundaries and differences dissolved.  Quiet is quiet, stillness is stillness, and the One speaks within it all.  If only we can gather ourselves up to receive.

There is strength in difference, unity in otherness.  It waits for us.  Quietly.

Setting Out

Just setting out on our Professional Development Leave and beginning to develop ... we arrived safe and sound yesterday in Toronto and celebrated Emily's birthday with her and John at an almost-locavore restaurant called Earth.  Barry, the adventurous one, had homemade fettucini with rabbit; I had smoked chicken with Ontario rutabaga puree, onions, and cherries preserved from last year's harvest.  Today we drove over to Prince Edward County, east of Toronto along the shore of Lake Ontario.  It's lovely here and the towns on the lake are small and quaint.

The view across to Lake Ontario from tonight's B and B

We are beginning our routine of study, prayer, sleep, and recreation.  One sentence from near the beginning of The Artist's Way got underlined yesterday:  "As we open our creative channel to the creator, many gentle but powerful changes are to be expected."  Gentle but powerful; sounds like Holy Spirit to me.  This morning, sitting in Future Bakery in Toronto, I began the first chapter, "Recovering a Sense of Safety."  It has the reader take a look at the old tapes that play in our heads and tell us we are no good at what we do or who we are... very powerful stuff.  Not too late for anyone to work along with this course.  It might be fun to compare notes in the fall.

One practice we are beginning is reading to each other.  We have a copy of Steig Larsson's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and hope to begin it today.  Otherwise I am still reading a history of cancer called The Emperor of All Maladies and Barry is reading what looks to me like an AP History Textbook, called From Dawn to Decadence.  We are enjoying the quiet.

An Image for Holy Week

Agnus Dei, by Francisco de Zurbaran, 17th Century

   I can't get this one out of my head this year.  Having returned from a trip where we saw lots of baby lambs in the fields, this picture stands out and haunts.  

   We have a print of this painting, purchased by Barry at a recent church fundraiser.  The detail is striking but the pose even more so.

   The lamb's feet are tied but its body shows no struggle.  There seems to be a look of sleepy resignation on its face.  It seems to know what lies ahead and to be ok with that.

   It seems to me to be a brilliant statement of Christology, Jesus the humble lamb, ready for slaughter, accepting it, and at peace.  So much seems at odds with modern sensibilities here.  So much paradox in this figure.  So much paradox in faith.

So Hard to Do Nothing . . .

First full day in Ireland--March 30, 2011--it was a real struggle this morning to do nothing.  Just sit, and let the mind go into neutral.  Coming down off of too much, too often, is difficult.  That can be a kind of drug that keeps me dulled and almost oblivious to the undercurrents within; it is a real challenge to sit and to be and to stop thinking about what to do next.  It shows the value of taking a breather and stopping to listen more often.

Now for some photos that show that we didn't do nothing for very long:

The view from our lodge, the Lough Inagh Lodge.  Lough Inagh in the foreground, the 12 Pins in the background.

Ireland in the spring is luscious.  The grass is greening up beautifully while the mountains are still covered in brown.  The wind is cold, but intermittent sun helps warm things up.  The best thing is the lambs, strugging on spindly little legs, and then the ones born a little earlier who are beginning to frisk and gambol about.

Twin lambs by mom's side; Atlantic Ocean in the background.  Near Conamara National Park.

  Today we climbed a peak called Diamond Hill in Conamara (Connemara) National Park.  It was a good 4 mile walk including a very steep ascent to the top.  Lovely views.

The view from the walk, down across Letterfrack

On the trail to Diamond Hill, in background

One of the highlights of the day was back in the Lodge--afternoon tea.  Barry shows how it's done:

Making Small Adjustments

Last week I took a day of retreat at Transfiguration Lodge up in the Litchfield Hills. I was hoping I'd wake up in time to see the sun rise, a spectacular sight over the acres of bare trees adjacent to the Lodge. And I did. The moon was still out, the snow on the branches.

Snow covered trees at dawn with the moon in the sky

 As I sat with my coffee I saw a lone squirrel try to walk over a branch and he slipped a little--the squirrel had to adjust to the snow by traveling upside down instead of right side up. It was a small adjustment so that he could find a bare place to hold on. And it was amazing how instinct took over and he knew to move upside down in order to travel.

Sunrise with icicles, Transfiguration Lodge

Later I was struck by how in yoga practice we're told to "make small adjustments" in the body so that a pose is more comfortable or more challenging.

Making small adjustments in life--adjusting how we cope with snow or how we cope with life's bigger challenges--is so essential. It's a wonderful skill that helps us keep our balance. It's nice to have been reminded of it by both a squirrel and a yogi.