space

What a day.

Last Tuesday, I spent a regular old day in Ottawa for work. Did a shoot at CTV, had lunch in the Byward Market and sat in Chapter's reading a book about cupcakes. I flew back on Porter and took a cab home. Then I got up at three in the morning to look at an orange moon.

If anyone in North America, Greenland or Iceland got out of bed at 2:45 am ET like I did on December 21st, they should feel changed. Not the way you would feel if you survived an earthquake or won the lottery or fell off a cliff but...something. You witnessed some planetary alignment that doesn't happen all that often.

From the scribbled bits I can make out of the notes I took half asleep in the dark on my balcony, I recount the following:

If you were standing on the moon, you would see two sunsets.
It looked soft.
An orange glowy light.
Orion was in plain view.
Two shooting stars.
The cats went berserk.

You can see by the blurry, slightly Photoshopped, contrast enhanced shot just how tempted I was to take a photo with my little digital Canon. There are plenty of better pictures all over the internet of that rusty old moon. Namely NASA's website (nasa.gov), which will lead you to Mr. Eclipse (mreclipse.com) where you can learn all kinds of things.

Like how to take a better photo of a lunar eclipse for one. And, safety first...

"One of the great things about lunar eclipses is that they are completely safe to view with the naked eye. No special filters are required to protect your eyes like those used for solar eclipses. You don't even need a telescope to watch the eclipse although a good pair of binoculars will help," says Mr. Eclipse.

Fun for the whole family. And I can vouch for the binocs. Suggesting them is one of the better ideas I've had lately.

So mark your calendars for the next mid morning wake up call. According to Mr. Eclipse, North Americans will have their next opportunity to see a total lunar eclipse on April 15, 2014.

That is of course, if we don't all spill off the side of this planet on December 12, 2012. Space will then take on a whole new meaning.

It already means different things in different circumstances.

Wikipedia defines space - the disambiguation one - as: a three-dimensional framework in which we can sense direction and quantify distances between objects or points.

Personal. In this in between time during the holidays where things slow down, it's a pleasure to ride public transit. So much space! People are friendlier, traffic is lighter, there is less pushing and more parking spaces. Are we simply nicer because we're allowed to have a little more personal space?

There are computers and keyboards. My thumb is resting on the space bar as I type this.

If you're an editor and use Final Cut Pro, the space bar is an important key. It starts and stops your stories.

Music. Over the holidays, I've enjoyed being tucked away in my own space. Futzing and puttering, reading and writing, listening to music and doing puzzles. Turns out Fleetwood Mac's old song Tusk, would be a great soundtrack for an eclipse. Just the beat of it. An instrumental version. There is something base and simple and strong about its rhythm that makes you feel like you are somewhere else. Like how you might feel, for example, staring up at a clear starry sky while a full moon is covered in a shadow and appears to be the colour of sunset.

I'm more of a Battlestar Gallactica fan than a Trekkie and will be finishing up season 4.5 on New Year's. Sweet closure.

Art. Visual, photography, film, dance - all use negative space. I enjoy this. I am a minimalist and generally find things too crowded. I prefer things to be simple, clean, less. Perhaps it's my prairie roots. There is so much space out there you don't know what to do with half of it. The other half is being farmed.

As we approach a new year the days get longer and the earth continues to revolve, we go about our affairs in however much space we've got.

I'm not very scientifically minded but I sure did enjoy looking up at a carrot coloured moon.

What a night.

belonging

I am from a small town on the prairies and have lived in a handful of cities across Canada. I have moved from place to place in hopes of finding a place to belong. I have had breakfast at the Legion and attended black tie galas with famous people. The conversation has been as entertaining, educational and challenging in both arenas.

I know people who pack up their entire lives and relocate around the planet. Sometimes temporarily, sometimes permanently, sometime repeatedly. Why? Work, fear, love, loss, or in search of a sense of belonging.

My friend Michelle has Métis roots and has created an entire web project - Ota nda yanaan-We are here (www.otandayanaan.net) to contribute to the preservation, revitalization and accessibility of Michif, the language of the Métis of North America. The site involves a literal and figurative re-mapping of Métis communities in cyberspace and shows the stories and knowledge of people who belong to a community where Michif is still spoken in hopes of not losing a cultural legacy.

Dictionary.com defines belong as this: to be proper or due; be properly or appropriately placed, situated, etc.: Books belong in every home. This belongs on the shelf. He is a statesman who belongs among the great.

While walking down the bike path to the train the other morning, I saw a single knitting needle. Fallen out of someone's bag, it was lying there on the wet, cold pavement. What good is one knitting needle? It isn't. It belongs to a pair. As most of us aspire to do.

Pat Benetar sang about it. The lyrics to the chorus of We Belong are: "We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder. We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under. Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better, we belong, we belong...we belong together" I heard this on a recent flight tuned in to an 80's channel.

We don't belong on airplanes. It's the farthest thing from nature. Up to 36,000 feet away from anything natural. But technology has advanced so we are able to board and take off and land and arrive anywhere in the world we want to go. More often than not, safely. Like Ukraine for example, where storks build nests on the tops of street lights. I guess they think they belong there.

Years ago, I flew to Europe and wandered around for six months. To save money, I ended up living on a kibbutz in Israel for a while. The group of volunteers I belonged to was a bag of mixed nuts from Holland, Denmark, Sweden, South Africa, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea and England. There also was one American guy named Larry, and me. The bonding agent between us was that we were all foreigners in a foreign place. For the time we lived there, we belonged there. We lived peacefully in our shared guesthouses. Earned our keep by working various jobs - picking avocados, taking shifts at the barrel making factory, doing laundry, sorting eggs, prepping food. We ate wonderfully huge lunchtime meals in the communal dining room and shared stories around bonfires of where we came from.

We don't choose where we come from. Like it or not, we belong to a family. And it happens to be the time of year where we end up spending time with them. Here in Canada, we shuffle around in our wool and leather, through ice and snow and wind to show up at gatherings that have potential to be hectic, fussy and challenging. Ideally they will also contain joy, love and laughter.

So if you find yourself sipping mulled wine, listening to Boney M's 20 Greatest Christmas Songs, trying to figure out where you belong, it might be worthwhile to let the longing go, and just...be.

beware the evil snowman

In case my entry to the CBC literary awards flash fiction contest doesn't win, I've posted it below.

The rules:
250 words max.
Must start with "The snowman grinned malevolently as.."
Must end with with "...buried alive.

_______________



The snowman grinned malevolently as you walk past him to the change room. Festive blow up figures crowd the entrance. A polar bear and his sidekick, a penguin wearing a red hat, the evil snowman.

It is December 28th and you need a swim. Too much gorging on homemade truffles and Spanish coffees at the in-laws.

The water is warmer than normal because they offer physiotherapy classes here. You think it’s decadent. Your friends think it’s gross. You think you need new friends. There are three lanes — fast, slow and medium. In September you were fast. Today, medium. The water is like honey around your bloated body and you think about the New Year. You will volunteer more. You will exercise. You will not be so hard on yourself.

You do a flip at the end of the lane like a pro. Everything goes black. Your skull has cracked in half. Is there much blood? The pool will need to close for days. You are not a pro. You are a fool. You pull yourself up and cling to the edge.

There is no blood. The pretty young lifeguard gives you a bag of ice and makes you sit in the office. She suggests you go home.

You shower, change and put your toque on to hide the growing bump. The penguin, the bear and that smirking snowman all watch you leave. Soon enough, you think. You jokers will be removed, deflated and stuffed in a bin, buried alive.

they are right

Yesterday I got up and went to work like any other day. It was earlier than usual as I was filming an event at Microsoft's Mississauga office. After I had taped a shotgun microphone to a chair and placed the chair in front of the stage in hopes of getting some kind of usable audio record - that's how it goes some days - I listened to a surprisingly interesting talk about women and diversity. Microsoft’s Patti-Ann Marzocco, VP Original Equipment Manufacturers was the guest speaker at the ITAC/CWC Speaker Series Event. She told memorable, relevant stories about her personal and professional life. I will post the link to the talk when it goes up on ITAC's website next week. It's an hour long. But good. So pour a glass of wine or steep some tea and watch it. One thing Patti-Ann said about risk was there are two outcomes when you take one: you will either succeed or you will learn something.

Back at the office after a quick edit I set the video to compress and stepped out to get some lunch at the new sushi place on Lake Shore Ave.

For those of you not familiar with this Toronto neighbourhood, Lake Shore is a busy street one block down from where you can get on to the Gardiner Expressway. The area is comfy cozy with a bunch of new condos under construction, the Westin's convention centre, some office towers, the ACC, the ferry terminal and an expensive parking lot beside the Harbour Sixty Steakhouse. They've plunked a Second Cup on the corner of Bay and the Gardiner turn off Eastbound. An unlikely spot to have a cup of tea midday but I've done it and it works.

At the intersection of Bay and Harbour Street, which is sort of extends into Lake Shore - see photo - the light was red for me (crossing North) and green for the traffic (heading East). While I waited for the light to turn so I could cross Harbour Street, a car - one of those black airport limos - was coming down Lake Shore (read: Harbour Eastbound), going about 50 or 60 km, and was about 500 feet away from the intersection.

At the same time, at the same intersection a man begins to cross the street towards me. He does not look either way before crossing. I look at the limo. I look at the man. At the speeds they are both traveling, the car will hit the man. The man keeps walking. He walks straight towards me, but looks past me.

He is tall, old, 75 I would guess, grey hair, perfect posture, medium complexion - Algerian or Greek maybe. He wears an expensive black overcoat and carries a single shopping bag - the kind made of glossy black paper and has silky cords for handles - something from a high end jeweler or clothing store.

The limo is forced to slow down. The man is now two feet in front of me...and the car.

"You are crossing on a red light," I say.

He steps up to the curb.

The limo slows down even more and rolls down the window.

"You are an asshole!" the driver shouts.

The man looks at me and says, "They are right. They. Are. Right."

They are right.

This, could could refer to a number of things:
- the driver of the car thinking this man is an asshole
- the item in his bag being overpriced
- Second Cup deciding it was a good idea to put a new shop here
- Microsoft
- a city wide bedbug infestation
- whoever he spoke to last and their political affiliation
- the CBC
- the item in his bag being fairly priced
- his parents
- the forces of the universe

No matter what his statement meant to him - or me - several absolutes happened right there on the street.

The man crossed the street.
The car did not collide with the man.
The light turned green and I looked both ways before crossing.

Later that afternoon, a man in Toronto's East end killed his father with a cross bow in a library.

The son took a risk.
He succeeded in murdering his father.
We learned something is not right.