letter on a blad of prairie grass
(btw, we are a bit west of this map. but we could see that we came a long way, from shore of ontario!)
greetings, i have been away from a normal civilization for awhile. from the 15th, i have been travelling on this short school bus that is packed with non-conforming 20-30s, most of us being musicians or bohemians of some sort. it has been a quite an experience, just being on the road for no particular reason. right now, we are perched on the ranch in saskatchewan, where the horse lady is leading the life of grass, earth and horses, of course.
it's been quite difficult to get on to the internet and do a proper blog posting, but at least i am able to put up something for today! though it really isnt the right time to post something in detail, as being in the middle of such busy interaction, one's head tends to be full of too many things. but i am taking notes (analogue datakeeping!), and will be able to sort the thoughts out, as there have been quite a few ideas that would become rather interesting i think.
everytime i pass on a roadside monument- i am not sure if this is common but in north america, on the site of auto accident, people leave things such as crosses and flowers, to mark the spots, i have been feeling a sharp fang on my heart. i cannot override these unknown deaths at the moment as 'common sightings' anymore. and i wonder if i will ever (or someone will ever) go back to the mark where my wee brother have left this space. i am thinking it may not be necessary, as that's not really where he lives or he is anyways. it's just a gateway and it could have been anywhere else. and if one is to believe that the life, the stream of it, is to continue on with myriads of beings entering in and out, in ebbs and flow, then marking one particular death may not mean much as one would like to think. it is not that his death was insignificant, but more of the fact that at some point, it was expected, like most of us, who are born- and is moving towards to death in various path and context. in a sense, death may be the only common quality among the living beings. is it morbid to think so? i think it's quite liberating to think so. it's not an abnormal situation or freak incident.
coming to the ranch to one of my favorite persons also have been such a great event. with the horse lady, i feel more like a puppy at times, tagging along her ankle as she does the grown up things, like feeding and 'working' the horses. building the trust with the horse may seem like a difficult deal, as horses do not speak the language of man and the man have forgotten that there are more way to communicate than the limited means of verbal communication. i think in a sense, working with the horse in the world without words may be more truthful and fulfilling than the world full of languages and words, though the meanings and flavours of english words are one of the most tasty things i know of. and horses are very peculiar animals anyways, as they are herd animals with rather cheeky and playfulness as individuals. constantly challenging, up to the lines of mistrusting. it is refreshing but also somewhat wary to be reminded of the fact that if one is to communicate truly and freely, one must be grounded and assured- as anxiety and uncertainty would not only create difficult for the individual, but also spread such unease around one's context.
there is also the floating thoughts of communal living, especially concerning the internal and external communication and behaviors of the group. it is always easy to be protective of one's own herd, but what of the impact of the herd itself to the outside? this has been a particular interest and even a point of distress and i hope that i will write more about it in near future- before the feelings may fade.
i am now heading further to west, 10 hour drive through the prairies to arrive on calgary. still have to find a way for: calgary-banff on 22nd and banff-calgary for 24th, but i am sure it's all workable. life can be quite simple and i better not forget about that. it's about the things that matter and being alive and aware. sound very cliche but perhaps there's a bit of truth that something can only become cliche when it is (or used to be) genuine. linguists talk about this phenomenon: birth of a word. a new word is born within a very small group and as it spreads, its meaning may morph from one thing to another. as it approaches the critical mass, it will either become a standard (a cliche!!) and loses its shock value as it is absorbed into the larger society, or it simply will wither and die. same with the top 20 charts of music or publishing industry.
so i send you greetings from the middle belly of the country, where the grass is high and mosquitoes are fearful as the entire fleet of choppers, as previously seen in the movie 'apocalypse now: redux,' rising with the grandiose opening of the flight of the walkyries. ha ha. no laughing matters though. my ankle looks as if i am pregnant and retaining all the water i come in contact with. at least it'll all pass at some point.
special hellos to: PO, dani, bookbomber, mr. salamander, horselady, friends in toronto-new york-wherever else (aint i lucky to have friends all over the place or what!) and mr. bearcub. the world is a living and beautiful place only because i am able to connnect self with the long roots with the depth of the souls that i love dearly. without such deep richness, i may as well be a withered grey single, isolated blade of grass, past its life cycle.