Eternal Spirit,
Earth-Maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver,
Source of all that is and that shall be,
Father and Mother of us all.
Loving God, in whom is heaven.
The hallowing of your name echoes through the universe!
The way of your justice be followed by the peoples of the earth!
Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!
Your commonwealth of peace and freedom sustain our hope and come on earth.
With the bread we need for today, feed us.
In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us.
In times of temptation and test, spare us.
from the grip of all that is evil, free us.
For you reign in the glory of the power that is love, now and forever.
Amen.
30 November 2009
26 November 2009
Giving Thanks...
A close friend, Lisa, recently gave me a card with the Confucius quote: "Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart." And at this morning's Bible study, verses 16-18 in 1 Thessalonions chapter 5 especially resonated with my heart - "Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God for you."
I've been walking around Holden today with an exuberance of gratitude - for loving relationships, my good health, a wealth of opportunities allowing me to further grow and develop, and for all that I'm encountering here in the Village. My first week has been full of impromptu delights - involving an invitation to build a dulcimer; a mysterious apricot pit found in Trevor's Indian pea and Paneer cheese curry; a discovery about my favorite childhood television show, Little House On The Prairie; and the chance to join a choir.
Noah asked me about the dulcimer, but after we opened up the box and realized just how extensive the process would be, we decided to play ping pong instead. Upon inquiring about the bamboozling pit, we unanimously came to the conclusion that the harvester had eaten an apricot and spit the seed in his or her pea pods. Because of its size, it didn't sift through the strainer; hence, we find "the little treasure" in our food.
Then, through a conversation with Tom, I found out the General Store that Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote about is the exact same location Holden directors Paul and Carol Hinderlie opened their restaurant - The Harbor View Cafe in Pepin, Wisconsin. And here is an interesting extension to the story...apparently, there are bullet holes in the ceiling of the cafe; it was also once a bar, where a traveling man who cheated in a card game met an unlucky fate. The town sheriff did nothing; he figured the guy had it coming. And finally, for the first time in a long time I joined a chorale for Thanksgiving. We sang John Rutter's rendition of For The Beauty Of The Earth this evening after dinner. It was lovely, and I think I hit most of the alto harmonies. Thank you, Momma, for always harmonizing! I've learned so much from you.
Still, with all of this joyful abundance I must also admit I'm a bit homesick tonight. Perhaps this is why I'm listening to Alan Jackson's Remember When; country music has a way of bringing me back to Little Falls, Minnesota in a heart beat. Ooh, pumpkin pie was served twelve minutes ago, and so I must scamper off to secure a piece before it vanishes. It is, after all, my highlight in a Thanksgiving meal. Blessings to you and your families. This is Elise, signing out from Holden Village.
I've been walking around Holden today with an exuberance of gratitude - for loving relationships, my good health, a wealth of opportunities allowing me to further grow and develop, and for all that I'm encountering here in the Village. My first week has been full of impromptu delights - involving an invitation to build a dulcimer; a mysterious apricot pit found in Trevor's Indian pea and Paneer cheese curry; a discovery about my favorite childhood television show, Little House On The Prairie; and the chance to join a choir.
Noah asked me about the dulcimer, but after we opened up the box and realized just how extensive the process would be, we decided to play ping pong instead. Upon inquiring about the bamboozling pit, we unanimously came to the conclusion that the harvester had eaten an apricot and spit the seed in his or her pea pods. Because of its size, it didn't sift through the strainer; hence, we find "the little treasure" in our food.
Then, through a conversation with Tom, I found out the General Store that Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote about is the exact same location Holden directors Paul and Carol Hinderlie opened their restaurant - The Harbor View Cafe in Pepin, Wisconsin. And here is an interesting extension to the story...apparently, there are bullet holes in the ceiling of the cafe; it was also once a bar, where a traveling man who cheated in a card game met an unlucky fate. The town sheriff did nothing; he figured the guy had it coming. And finally, for the first time in a long time I joined a chorale for Thanksgiving. We sang John Rutter's rendition of For The Beauty Of The Earth this evening after dinner. It was lovely, and I think I hit most of the alto harmonies. Thank you, Momma, for always harmonizing! I've learned so much from you.
Still, with all of this joyful abundance I must also admit I'm a bit homesick tonight. Perhaps this is why I'm listening to Alan Jackson's Remember When; country music has a way of bringing me back to Little Falls, Minnesota in a heart beat. Ooh, pumpkin pie was served twelve minutes ago, and so I must scamper off to secure a piece before it vanishes. It is, after all, my highlight in a Thanksgiving meal. Blessings to you and your families. This is Elise, signing out from Holden Village.
21 November 2009
Holden...
is white! I rode up the mountain in yellow school bus Jubilee yesterday, and by the time we got to the Village some of the banks were almost six feet high. During the month of November Holden has been inundated with snow - another 32 inches to the 72 that are already on the ground would set a record! Glancing out a window pane, it's looking quite possible. Yesterday the mavericks were shoveling snow off of the rooftops, cross country skiers were tracking trails, and I figured I'd best gear up for this winter wonderland. I rummaged through gaiters in the Hike Haus but only managed to find a mismatched pair - which will definitely suffice. (Note: I didn't have time to pick up some of my own in Vancouver at MEC.)
Holden is full of tradition, and Friday evenings are open mic nights. Anyone with a talent or non-talent is welcome to take the stage for a captive and encouraging audience! Highlights from last night's performances were Kate and Anna's harp and flute duet, Noah's rhythmical typewriter composition, Tom's makeover to the tune of Wicked's "Popular", and the bottle band who played "Mary Had A Little Lamb". I was lucky enough to play a part in the last act with Suz and Johanna, and we're thinking about trying out two bottles each for next Friday's gig! That way we'd have almost at octave to work with - oh, and I'd really like to play "chopsticks". Though I guess we'd need to find yet another bottle and pair of lips to make that happen.
A Saturday custom at Holden is homemade pizza, and I've just spent the last two hours whirling basil and oregano dough in the air for hand-tossed crusts. Most of mine were lopsided versus round - but, I didn't drop a single one! My stomach is now growling, and well, it's only 3:54 so I've got another hour and six minutes to wait. This is Elise, signing out from Holden Village.
Holden is full of tradition, and Friday evenings are open mic nights. Anyone with a talent or non-talent is welcome to take the stage for a captive and encouraging audience! Highlights from last night's performances were Kate and Anna's harp and flute duet, Noah's rhythmical typewriter composition, Tom's makeover to the tune of Wicked's "Popular", and the bottle band who played "Mary Had A Little Lamb". I was lucky enough to play a part in the last act with Suz and Johanna, and we're thinking about trying out two bottles each for next Friday's gig! That way we'd have almost at octave to work with - oh, and I'd really like to play "chopsticks". Though I guess we'd need to find yet another bottle and pair of lips to make that happen.
A Saturday custom at Holden is homemade pizza, and I've just spent the last two hours whirling basil and oregano dough in the air for hand-tossed crusts. Most of mine were lopsided versus round - but, I didn't drop a single one! My stomach is now growling, and well, it's only 3:54 so I've got another hour and six minutes to wait. This is Elise, signing out from Holden Village.
18 November 2009
Oregon is...
outstanding! It's been full of surprises – beginning with an impromptu dental cleaning in Portland on my friend, Eric's sofa. His girlfriend, Leslie, is a dental hygienist; we traded tit-for-tat – a cleaning for a massage. The second surprise was a 14 mile hike along Eagle Creek to a waterfall I was actually able to walk behind. The experience was more than remarkable – moving through mist with cascades just an arm's reach away. The third was a change in routine; I've been going to bed at 8 and waking up at 4, so to make it to the pool by 5 for lap swim. The fourth was an anatomy class with Jason at Tillamook Bay Community College; I'm learning all about synovial fluid inside diarthroses. And the fifth and final – so far – happened at the Shell station this morning; I wasn't allowed to pump my own gas! A freckled face in a jumpsuit took my Visa, and I waited inside, warm instead.
Tomorrow I'll make my way north to Wenatchee, Washington – aboard a Greyhound Bus for nine straight hours. It's kind of ironic, actually, I bought my ticket the same day I read Bob Cushman's column detailing a less-than-glossy Greyhound road trip he took with his wife from Minnesota to New York. His chief complaints were lack of space and raucous noise. And it's true, the average Greyhound passenger can be quite eccentric. Although, I've only got one other trip to compare tomorrow's to. During that ride, I met a self-acclaimed up-and-coming talented gymnast, two men with scraggly beards who weren't quite sure when they got on or when they were going to get off, and most likely, an illegal alien from Mexico. I've never liked this term, “illegal alien”. To me, it conjures up little green figures half our size, with horned beaks, multiple sets of eyes and webbed appendages – which really, makes no comparison at all to the nice gentleman who sat by my side. I think he told me his name was Edgar and that he was from Guanajuato; he was going to visit his sister and her children for the first time in five years.
On Friday I'll return to Holden Village! I look forward to familiar and not-so-familiar faces greeting the bus with wild waves, having another Holden lunch – of soup, salad with green goddess dressing and homemade bread – then retiring for a cat nap before lacing up my runners for an afternoon jaunt. I can almost picture it all – seeing everyone's smiles, feeling a cold Cascade nip kiss my cheek, smelling savory aromas from steamy tureens, tasting honey whole wheat toast, and listening to sounds of the Village at work, at play, and anyway...as I slip into sleepy Zzzzz. This is Elise, signing out from Pacific City, Oregon.
Tomorrow I'll make my way north to Wenatchee, Washington – aboard a Greyhound Bus for nine straight hours. It's kind of ironic, actually, I bought my ticket the same day I read Bob Cushman's column detailing a less-than-glossy Greyhound road trip he took with his wife from Minnesota to New York. His chief complaints were lack of space and raucous noise. And it's true, the average Greyhound passenger can be quite eccentric. Although, I've only got one other trip to compare tomorrow's to. During that ride, I met a self-acclaimed up-and-coming talented gymnast, two men with scraggly beards who weren't quite sure when they got on or when they were going to get off, and most likely, an illegal alien from Mexico. I've never liked this term, “illegal alien”. To me, it conjures up little green figures half our size, with horned beaks, multiple sets of eyes and webbed appendages – which really, makes no comparison at all to the nice gentleman who sat by my side. I think he told me his name was Edgar and that he was from Guanajuato; he was going to visit his sister and her children for the first time in five years.
On Friday I'll return to Holden Village! I look forward to familiar and not-so-familiar faces greeting the bus with wild waves, having another Holden lunch – of soup, salad with green goddess dressing and homemade bread – then retiring for a cat nap before lacing up my runners for an afternoon jaunt. I can almost picture it all – seeing everyone's smiles, feeling a cold Cascade nip kiss my cheek, smelling savory aromas from steamy tureens, tasting honey whole wheat toast, and listening to sounds of the Village at work, at play, and anyway...as I slip into sleepy Zzzzz. This is Elise, signing out from Pacific City, Oregon.
12 November 2009
Last night -
I was all smiles! There we sat, the five of us – Ariel, Elaine and Mike, Francois and myself – inside a cozy Squamish eatery after a full snow day at Garibaldi Provincial Park. Pints were brought, wetting appetites for yam fries, halibut, greek salad, a hamburger with all the fixings, and my three bean vegetarian chili. Mine was the first dish to arrive – decoratively complete with a cornbread muffin in its center, and topped with a dollop of sour cream; and Ariel's fries came last. We concluded it was because the yams had come straight from the garden – dug up, dusted off, and then tossed into the fryer.
I spent most of yesterday strapped into snowshoes tromping through a winter wonderland. We hiked up to red heather – or was it red feather – and then further up to Paul's Ridge, where the skiers took off their skins and zoomed away. Mike and I were without skis or snowboards, but we moon-walked our way down deep powder drifts, and (un)luckily, I only got tripped up and stuck inside a self-made snow trap once. It was then that I made an imaginary note to self: “short cuts may not always be shorter!” It felt like I was in quick sand, where every effort not only seemed futile, but to bury me a bit more. I was getting less amused and more frustrated with the entire debacle when two poles extended from above to tug me out. Thank goodness for random acts of kindness.
I'm in the middle of a three week gallivant around the Pacific Northwest. I spent a few days in Seattle with good friends on N. Linden Avenue, then took the Victoria Clipper – to Swartz Bay, Vancouver to meet up with dear friends, Vincent and Maggie. We had five days together on Salt Spring Island – catching up over bowls of soup and cups of SSI coffee; it was fantastic. Today I'm running around – through Elizabeth Park, to the laundry mat and Canadian Post, and finally, to MEC to search out some gaiters. This afternoon Francois and I will commence a road trip – crossing the border to stay with Anni in Bellingham tonight. Tomorrow we go to Seattle for jazz, and Saturday to Portland, Oregon for...well, who knows, but it'll be good fun to see Eric again. This is Elise, signing out from Vancouver, B.C.
I spent most of yesterday strapped into snowshoes tromping through a winter wonderland. We hiked up to red heather – or was it red feather – and then further up to Paul's Ridge, where the skiers took off their skins and zoomed away. Mike and I were without skis or snowboards, but we moon-walked our way down deep powder drifts, and (un)luckily, I only got tripped up and stuck inside a self-made snow trap once. It was then that I made an imaginary note to self: “short cuts may not always be shorter!” It felt like I was in quick sand, where every effort not only seemed futile, but to bury me a bit more. I was getting less amused and more frustrated with the entire debacle when two poles extended from above to tug me out. Thank goodness for random acts of kindness.
I'm in the middle of a three week gallivant around the Pacific Northwest. I spent a few days in Seattle with good friends on N. Linden Avenue, then took the Victoria Clipper – to Swartz Bay, Vancouver to meet up with dear friends, Vincent and Maggie. We had five days together on Salt Spring Island – catching up over bowls of soup and cups of SSI coffee; it was fantastic. Today I'm running around – through Elizabeth Park, to the laundry mat and Canadian Post, and finally, to MEC to search out some gaiters. This afternoon Francois and I will commence a road trip – crossing the border to stay with Anni in Bellingham tonight. Tomorrow we go to Seattle for jazz, and Saturday to Portland, Oregon for...well, who knows, but it'll be good fun to see Eric again. This is Elise, signing out from Vancouver, B.C.
01 November 2009
Zzwripp -
six weeks have slingshot by me. This is what I was thinking when Treyton produced his slingshot for show-and-tell last week. I wasn't sure initially, now to respond to this situation, but I realized rather quickly that my little guy had no intention to harm anyone; he was just really excited to share a special present from his grandfather. And so, I allowed "the weapon" into the classroom, and it generated quite an interesting discussion about safety, actually.
I was going to dedicate this entire entry to my first Alaskan mi'kmaq - steam - experience, and how preparing the sauna re-ignited some insecurities I have about my (in)abilities with fire-building, but I lost the motivational flame for this topic after singing "Down By The Bay" with my neighbors: Hannah, Molly and Ryan - who, respectively, are in grades 5th, 2nd and a year shy of kindergarten. For those who are not familiar with this rhyming song, it's all about imagining animals with uncharacteristic behaviors. There was mention of "llamas in pajamas", "snails and nails", and when it came time for Ryan's turn...after a most lengthy pause his eyes lit up and he said, "have you ever seen a bear...eating grass?!" "Down By The Bay..." Everyone guffawed.
Speaking of outbursts, I was driving along Lake Road the other night and almost ran into two huge horn-less moose! It was the highlight of my evening - maybe even week; I felt like a child seeing the ocean for the first time. I was awestruck, and wished someone else would also delight in my enthusiasm. No one did, but I suppose when you "live by the ocean" - or among moose - your whole life it might not be as exciting.
For me, this spark of enthusiasm is one of the allures of travel - tapping into a wondrous spirit of curiosity for cultures, and interactively learning as I weave my way through conversations and connections. I've delighted in the discoveries, as well as gained a greater appreciation for places and people I call "home". Tomorrow I leave Dillingham to commence a three week road trip around the Pacific Northwest; I fly into Seattle, and will be in British Columbia, Washington and Oregon until the 20th of November, when I will return to Holden Village to sous chef my way through the holidays. This is Elise signing out - for the time being - from Dillingham, Alaska.
I was going to dedicate this entire entry to my first Alaskan mi'kmaq - steam - experience, and how preparing the sauna re-ignited some insecurities I have about my (in)abilities with fire-building, but I lost the motivational flame for this topic after singing "Down By The Bay" with my neighbors: Hannah, Molly and Ryan - who, respectively, are in grades 5th, 2nd and a year shy of kindergarten. For those who are not familiar with this rhyming song, it's all about imagining animals with uncharacteristic behaviors. There was mention of "llamas in pajamas", "snails and nails", and when it came time for Ryan's turn...after a most lengthy pause his eyes lit up and he said, "have you ever seen a bear...eating grass?!" "Down By The Bay..." Everyone guffawed.
Speaking of outbursts, I was driving along Lake Road the other night and almost ran into two huge horn-less moose! It was the highlight of my evening - maybe even week; I felt like a child seeing the ocean for the first time. I was awestruck, and wished someone else would also delight in my enthusiasm. No one did, but I suppose when you "live by the ocean" - or among moose - your whole life it might not be as exciting.
For me, this spark of enthusiasm is one of the allures of travel - tapping into a wondrous spirit of curiosity for cultures, and interactively learning as I weave my way through conversations and connections. I've delighted in the discoveries, as well as gained a greater appreciation for places and people I call "home". Tomorrow I leave Dillingham to commence a three week road trip around the Pacific Northwest; I fly into Seattle, and will be in British Columbia, Washington and Oregon until the 20th of November, when I will return to Holden Village to sous chef my way through the holidays. This is Elise signing out - for the time being - from Dillingham, Alaska.
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