Solstice

Between the fires of Beltane and Samhain the shadows begin to

Lengthen
As Sun begins a hiding game
And Moon chases the light.

As we were bathed in new light we found the world revealed; 
New paths forward
Away from a broken past that kept us bound.

Yet in the dark our own is revealed; 
Finding a truth and knowledge
(hidden)
About why we left and how we can love forward.

The light may have brought us out from a darkness in the world,
But our own dark must be balanced by a steady glow within.

Untitled

Fuck grounding. 
Walk with me through the fire and flames. 

From the ashes grow a new spring

fed by an earth renewed

Not through destruction but through cleansing.

Paths made barren by a wasteland of past

hurt and anger and emptiness

Should still be walked, one foot in front of the other. 

As we come to the edge of the cliff and peer over

to depths unseen and unplumbed

The path is not broken, so much as changed.

Choose to walk the edge and find a new way,

feet still leading forward,

Or better yet, build a bridge and learn to fly.

Fuck grounding. 

(Take my hand) 

Walk with me through the fire and flames.

Becoming

Begin at the end, they said. 

And so she turned her face towards the full-bodied moon and howled. 

And then again when the moon was gone, to call it back to her night skies. 

Make love, they said. 

And so she found a man with the heart of a lion. 

One who roams the wild, alone, and yet alongside her wildness. 

Collect the bones, they said. 

And so she dug deep, pulling remnants from her chest which no longer served. 

Bones to be honoured and then buried in the woods to be returned. 

Listen, they said. 

And so with eyes closed she brought silence to the screaming world around her. 

In the white noise the words she needed to hear became clear. 

Raise the children, they said. 

And so with a softening she turned to her inner child in remembrance. 

Standing tall for those who are not yet grown and yet someday will be. 

Be grounded in belief, they said. 

And so she questioned and answered and kept her friends close. 

Building a forest of strength, so like a tree surrounded she would not fall in the storm. 

Walk the earth, they said. 

And so she ventured, journeying far but always returning. 

Sometimes staying close, to find new secrets in the familiar and the known. 

Sleep, they said. 

But she was not yet ready, and so drifted and dreamed alongside the stars. 

Asking questions amongst them until the dawn brought awakening to her soul. 

Feast, they said. 

And so she did. 

On all the world had to offer, 

And in return she learned and grew and

Became.

Six Degrees

They say the world is a small place, but sometimes the reality of that statement hits you so hard and in such unexpected ways that you have to stop for a minute and take stock. Living in a small town (which has played host to my family for four generations in varying capacities), those six degrees of separation shrink to about two. It’s not even people sometimes; even a location can spark the wheels turning. 

Small towns and their inevitably slow pace of change sometimes make the years and the scenery blur together so much that I don’t even notice them, but as I paused outside of one of Kamloops’ well-known eateries the other day with my friend D those six (or two) degrees got me thinking about how much *has* actually changed. 

The Art We Are serves up lattés and lunches to a hungry artistic crowd, and their neighbour Botanical Scene is busy making everyone’s homes greener, but the building that houses these popular spots (The Freemont Block) has a history that traces its roots back to immigrant John Fre[e]mont Smith. This foursquare brick building was built by Smith in 1911 after he found success in… well literally everything. Alderman, shoemaker, prospector, businessman, Smith’s list of achievements could go on for days, but you all have access to Google, so I’ll let you discover more about him yourself! 

My history with the Freemont Block starts circa the early/mid-1990s. By that time the building was occupied by the Camera House, another downtown staple, whose schtick was  - you guessed it - cameras and the accoutrement that goes with them. My dad was also a photographer and, in typical small town fashion, did business with the Camera House - so once and a while I was sent down the block from our West End home to see “uncle” Barry for more film for pops. Favourite memories: one of their employees, Brian, always talked like Donald Duck for us errand-girls; if Dad came with me, he could always be talked into a slice of cake at Swiss Pastry or a donut at Tim Horton’s down the block; and spending the pocket change dad paid me on 5-cent candies at Erwin’s!

The next chapter of this building’s personal connection came to me in high school, when I met my BFF, A. Over the years A and I have discovered that we shared a LOT of the same childhood hangouts, ranging from our brief time in a Catholic private school to being on rival soccer teams, and yet it took us until an art class in Grade 10 to actually be in the same place at the same time. There were Skittles involved this time around, so clearly it was meant to be. I don’t think we knew right away, but we later made the connection that her parent’s yoga and bellydance studio lived above the Camera House for a few years - just a few degrees of separation away.

A more recent late night stroll making sure that my original A bestie (yes, apparently I have a small A-squad) got back to her hotel safely revealed another connection to the brownstone. A (the First) spent most of her childhood in Kamloops, and may have ditched the Interior’s sagebrush for coastal surf, but she inevitably winds up back in good old Kamloops - at least for a time. On one of these sojourns she was working towards one of her many degrees, and needed a place to stay, and apparently the place of choice was a cool downtown loft. I heard the stories at the time of the XXL Christmas tree that toppled, wardrobe simplification techniques, and the boating adventures that are the only way to get through overheated Kamloops summers, but somehow I missed the fact that her exposed brick walls were none other than the familiar Freemont Block! 

And that brings us back to today: standing on street corners, wondering what small bits of history lie hidden amongst the brownstone and bricks, while we wait for pastries. At this point, I don’t think that I could be surprised by any fewer degrees of separation with the world, but I still can’t help but wonder…