It’s Thanksgiving in Canada, the 12th of October, almost as late in the month as it comes. Remarkably, autumn’s colour abounds, with gold and burnished brown, red and aubergine still a vivid contrast against the cerulean sky and dark green conifers.
Yesterday a fierce wind blew from the north west. A kite hung high for an hour in the steel grey sky, its dragon-like features a foreboding of what’s to come. The scent and feel of winter waiting impatiently in the wings, typically impolite in timing its arrival. Like a takeover, one might even say “hostile”, or a coup overthrowing the trees before they’ve taken off their sovereign hued robes, and wreaking shock and havoc among the yet to depart migrating birds. This reminder of impermanence, life’s cycles, nature’s work. During a time when around the world most everyone feels fraught with uncertainty and complacent with pandemic protocol fatigue, I take comfort and find solace that yes, the days grow shorter, the sun rises lower, the trees will soon be stripped of their remaining leaves, the snow will fall, the temperatures plummet.
One morning last week, making breakfast for Annie and drip coffee for me, I heard Jill Scott sing her song, Golden. I wrote down the chorus knowing I could use it for today’s blog, because, well, it’s been so golden this past month. I’m in the sixth week of my latest Abbey of the Arts online course, “Way of the Monk, Path of the Artist,” where I’m exploring these archetypes of contemplation and creativity, two deep affinities. In one of last week’s creative exercises, I learned about the French pantoum, a poetic form that can be quite revelatory in its play and placement of lines.
So in that spirit of unabashed experimentation, here’s my tribute to Thanksgiving, living golden, impermance, presence, winter – all riffing off Jill Scott.
Livin’ my life like it’s golden
it’s that time of year.
Shimmering brilliant leaves
remind me to be here.
It’s that time of year,
winds blow strong and sting
remind me to be here.
Winter’s in the wings.
Winds blow strong and sting.
Shimmering brilliant leaves.
Winter’s in the wings.
Livin’ my life like it’s golden.
With abiding gratitude, love and kindest regards, dear friends.
4 thoughts on “Golden”
Thanks for this Katharine. Much appreciated. Just one thought . . . your phrase “during a time when around the world most everyone feels fraught with uncertainty and complacent with pandemic protocol fatigue” brings to my mind that 25% of the world’s 7.8 billion people are now living in countries or regions that are COVID-free: Chad, Niger, Congo, Rwanda, Mongolia, New Zealand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, South Korea, Singapore, Taiwan, Mongolia, China itself, and . . . Atlantic Canada. The lack of coverage in our media of the success of these countries and regions in doing the straightforward and simple (but extremely resource-intensive and difficult) work of finding possible cases, testing, contact tracing, and supported isolation (work that leads to elimination of COVID-19) makes it harder for us to see how so many governments (like the federal Canadian government and the six provinces where COVID continues to spread have done) have failed to keep their citizens safe.
Wow, Ian, you’ve made several points here. I don’t track news too well – my own version of covid fatigue – though recall reading somewhere that Africa had been doing remarkably, exceptionally well containing the virus. And yes, to the other countries you listed. And yes, our mainstream media has not reported this is a cogent manner. Thank you for reading, and bringing this to light.
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Tracking current events is one of my addictions and curses. Until 2020, I’ve usually been able to cope with it. But this year has been extra difficult. But who knows? Maybe 2021 will be a year of joyous turnaround — dissolving authoritarian regimes like the one of “45” down south and using the energy released to better tackle many issues, starting with COVID. I hope this is the case. But as you say, regardless of what happens with struggling humanity, the seasons continue to turn in their beauty and the moon waxes and wanes on schedule. In fact, every time I spy the moon, my blood pressure goes down . . .
On Mon, Oct 12, 2020 at 5:03 PM A Wabi Sabi Life wrote:
> Katharine Weinmann posted: ” It’s Thanksgiving in Canada, the 12th of > October, almost as late in the month as it comes. Remarkably, autumn’s > colour abounds, with gold and burnished brown, red and aubergine still a > vivid contrast against the cerulean sky and dark green conifers. ” >