The Pits and Pieces

  This week, this week—when we all heard what happened in a Texas school and lamented how unbelievable it is that this can keep on occurring. Again and again. It’s a world filled with incomprehensible tragedy.  And it’s also a world where there’s grace, love and hope. Grace, in the form of an evening of poetry, music and art, put together by two women, one a poet, the other an artist, who have been friends for many years. Grace in the form of family, friends, neighbours and community who came together to support this launch into the world, a work of collaboration, joy and creativity, five years in the making. The two women read from the book of poetry, Grace Drifts In , beautifully illustrated by the artist in the duo. Their children sang as did the church choir. The music director stunned us with her operatic voice ringing out through the church hall. The evening ended with all invited to sing “ What A Wonderful World ”. Not being a singer, I listened, enthralled with the ric...

  I recently read “In The Shade” by Marg Heidebrecht. It’s about the loss of a friendship. When a friend dies, even as an older woman, it’s not something one is prepared for. “Brace yourself,” the friend’s palliative physician says to Marg. On the hierarchy of death, losing a friend seems to be at the bottom, and people generally don’t consider a friend’s grief to be profound. But it is. I’ve thought about what might happen if a close friend of mine died. And it scares me. Losing a close friend would be losing someone you confide in, perhaps one of the people you are most yourself with, someone you can talk to about what’s going on in your life, your work, your family, your unfinished dreams. Someone who understands you. That’s the key, isn’t it, as in all connections we seek – someone who understands. When my sister died, over a dozen years ago now, she had three close friends, one of whom she was closest to. She and C ‘got’ each other. In our grief as a family, I never real...

  Goethe: “ One can be instructed in society, one is inspired only in solitude ” I picked up these three books randomly at the library and have been reading them simultaneously. A chapter or two from one book in the morning, from another at night or the next day. And I’ve found there is a common thread. In “ Braving The Wilderness ” Brené Brown writes about belonging and the courage to stand on your own, in your uncertainty if necessary. She reminds us that belonging doesn’t require membership in something external to us, experiences that involve others or agreement in popular opinions.   Yes, we all want to be part of something, to feel connected, but it’s not to be found in the “us versus them” culture. Belonging fully to oneself requires solitude and searching. But in today’s world of information overload, solitude can be difficult to embrace for some. Which brings me to the next two books: The Thinking Life (How to Thrive in the Age of Distraction) by P.M. Forni and...

  Lately, I have been pondering a lot about aging and what it means to get older. Perhaps it’s because of an approaching birthday this month (how is it that they now arrive more frequently than they did before?). Perhaps it’s because of recent memory triggers. Or both. It took me down a path of questioning – Am I old, then? * April 20th, 2022 was the tenth anniversary of my father’s death. Ten years, gone by so quickly that it feels like only five. I remember that night, sitting around his bedside with my siblings, listening to his breathing, looking at the clock as the lapses between breaths grew longer. Ten years since my 86-year-old father died. If he’d lived, he would be 96 now. If my mother had lived, she would be 99. That would be improbable, for me to have a 96-year-old father, a 99-year-old mother. Am I old, then? * Guy Lafleur, The Flower, Number 10, died on April 22, 2022 and was given a national funeral.   Lafleur, the hockey player with the blond flowing lock...