Dreaming of Giants

Sitting on the bus on the way into and back from Vancouver, I'd look over at the mountains.  Vancouver's surrounded by them.  Yesterday, they were so clear, big and snowcapped, I almost wanted to walk right over to them.  I felt like a child, imagining myself taking giant steps over to them, grabbing a handful of snow, and tossing it as far as I could.  Of course, they are further away than they look and I'm sure it would take a whole day just to walk to them.

Still, the clarity and cool air yesterday made them assessible, somehow, and I didn't want to stop dreaming.

Birds in the Wind

Today, the wind kicked up the waves.  On the pier, I stopped for a moment, watching a young (I think), grey sea gull trying to fly against the wind and NOT succeeding.

She lifted her wings ready to take flight.  She would get up in the air and the wind would push her backwards almost in slow motion.  Then she'd land, lift her wings again and try and try again to get a little further and each time she'd appear to be flying backwards.  She paused on the sand and then tried again.  I couldn't watch much more as it was painful to see this little seabird try to achieve what seemed impossible.

Humans on the pier and on the beach almost made a game out of letting the strong winds push them forwards or backwards and it was hard to walk a straight line with the gusts.  I looked back at some of the birds flapping in vain against the wind.  Maybe the young gull was playing a game too!  Who knows?!  Before I saw her, two other seagulls flew over me, flapping with every effort and making it down on the other side of the pier.  I could almost imagine them: "Race you to the other side!" one would say, and the other would say, "we'll see about that!"  So many different kinds of life out today yet a similar seeming struggle against pressure pushing you in the opposite direction.  Like the little seagull, we can only hope we're strong enough to push through the wind.

Guitars and Sea Air and Freedom

It seems wherever I go now, I hear the gentle or passionate strumming of a guitar.  Yesterday, I was going up the escalator at the Bridgeport station and I looked down and saw two young men jamming while waiting for the bus to take them to the ferry.  I almost wanted to go back down that up escalator just to hear them.  In Ocean Park, there is a gentleman who sits in different areas near the library who sits and plays a gorgeous tune everytime I hear him.  Thinking he was busking, I almost put some money into his guitar case and he smiled and said "no."  I've seen him since and he and I often say hello to each other or just smile. He was just playing out of love.

There was a busker last Saturday at Granville Island who was playing and singing and making some money, but what he did was add to the already positive feelings surrounding the market.  People sat and ate their lunches, drank their coffees, or just sat enjoying the complimentary senses that made the environment so beautiful.  Guitar and seagulls: a quite harmonious duet or quintet, depending on how many seagulls.  I love to go there and I never feel bad at the end of a day.

I love that people are pulling out there guitars more and more, whether for bringing in money for themselves or just playing for the joy of it.

Keep strumming, people!

Hugs from Jason

I was cold last night, wrapped in my sheets and blankets.  I thought I heard a knock on my door so I went to it and there you were--only for a moment.  Suddenly I felt a warmth that sheets and blankets couldn't have given me.  You wrapped me in your arms for only a few minutes and I remembered your bear hugs as only you could give them.  I awoke, realized you weren't really there, but, who knows, maybe you were.  Thank you for that, Sweetheart!

Two Pigeons

Two pigeons are waddling back and forth along the rounded window ledge.  One is rather small, yet also chubby.  He is followed by a very well-fed pigeon who moves whenever the smaller moves.  I truly do not know the sexes of the pigeons, but it almost seemed to me like she (for the sake of this posting, the pigeon is a she) was a nursemaid, watching his every move and then fluttering her feathers and shooing him the other direction on the ledge.  Then again, the larger one could be excited by the smaller pigeon, but I'm getting into rather adult territory here.

I'm looking down onto the corner of Robson and Homer Streets and wonder what the pigeons see.  Their shit is all over the ledge and I wonder if they do see humans as potential targets.  Oh, well.  That's me reading too many Far Side Books.

Watercolours

The windows of the bus fogged up.  I used my hand like a windshield wiper, trying to see through the moisture.  As predicted by the weather lady on CBC, it was pouring rain.  I love the sun and miss it when it isn't out, but there is colour to be seen even in the rain.  the trees and farmer's fields are different gorgeous shades of green.  I wish I could paint like my mother, but I realize that I can paint with words and am discovering whole new colours and shades that come into my life.

The bus goes over the river and the water glitters with different shades of blue and green.  As we enter highway 99, Mud Bay comes into view.  Mud Bay is actually mud flats where birds rest and feed. Earlier in my ride today, the bus turned onto a street where the ocean was in close view.  I could see the white caps and loved how the white shone like the sun.

It's supposed to rain for the next ten or so days.  At least it was a warm rain.

"You are on the Right Path"

Until recently, I really didn't know the meaning of Inukshuk.  I like the Inukshuk all the more because I like it's meaning:  "You are on the right path" or "Someone was here."  The curved path surrounds the Inukshuk on English Bay.  Whether I plan to go to English Bay on any given day or not, somehow I seem to be going there more often.  It's a comforting symbol, seeing it towering over the beach, much more meaningful and beautiful than the more modern man-made skyscrapers nearby.