I play with grass clippings

When I was a child, I loved making leaf houses in the fall. Little did I know that my talents in that direction would be useful again decades later. 

Once the mowers had cut the large circle in the field for the labyrinth, I had to decide where to place it inside that area  and then  get it "drawn" on the ground.  Here is the tiny slip of paper which was the road map. If you look carefully you can see where I have put dots indicating where to start the next line. Without the dots, the whole thing began to run together and swim before my eyes, so this one little addition was an invaluable help.

There are many ways to temporarily outline a labyrinth. You can use corn meal, that orange spray paint used to mark hydro and telephone lines, or even a stick drawn through the sand on a beach, just to name a few. I debated what to use, as I wanted to be able to change things easily if I miscalculated. Paint and cornmeal were therefore out. I had asked the mowers to leave the grass clippings in a pile in the centre, and I went from there. 

The first thing was to determine the diameter of the finished labyrinth. I decided on an 18" wide path with about six  inches for the boundary. That was about two feet, multiplied by seven for the circuits, then  multiplied by two to give the diameter: about 28 feet across. 

The rake was conveniently long, and I used it to measure off the general area on the mown grass. I was not too fussy about absolute accuracy — more about that in a subsequent blog.

Then I had to determine the initial layout or seed pattern: the cross-shape, the four L-shapes and the dots. Here is a sketch I just made. It's large enough to see the shapes. It is very important to get this right, as the whole rest of the design flows from this.

Making this configuration on the ground took a little bit of trial and error before I was happy with it. I am very concrete mathematically speaking. I had to try it out and see how it looked. (Glad I was not in Egypt when they built the pyramids or in medieval Europe with the Gothic cathedrals). 

By coincidence, the rock at the centre of the cross piece looks like a face. I thought this was a bit spooky but kind of cool. It bespeaks ancient wisdom perhaps.

So here is the cross piece: 

Now I have added the L-shapes, in such a way as to allow for an 18" path and, of course, the 6" boundary of grass clippings:

And finally,  the dots:

The distance between the dot and the L should allow for an 18" path. As I've noted, the windrow of grass gives about a 6" boundary:



It occurred to me that I could lose track of this original "seed" template once I got going with all the circuits, since the grass would just blend in, so I decided to use rocks to mark the sixteen points. The rocks are the green blobs  numbered from one to 16 in the drawing below:




We had accumulated a pile of rocks I'd gathered from the lawn periodically last summer before it was seeded. I had  saved them thinking they could be useful someday, and lo and behold they were:

Nice to have a strong person around to do the heavy lifting!

So here are the rocks placed at the ends of the cross-piece and the L's, and on top of the dots:

Here I have joined the first rock to the second and have started to join the 16th to the third. I kept checking my little slip of paper to make sure I was doing it correctly. 

Here I have begun the next circuit, heading from 15, just out of the picture to 4:

Now 15 to 4 is complete; at the right, you can see where I started to go a bit off-track before making the needed correction:



I checked now and again to make sure the path was close to 18" in width. This was a bit too wide. Fortunately, with grass clippings, all I had to do was rake them where I wanted them.

And around it went. Once I got the hang of it, I enjoyed the rhythm.  However, I kept checking to make sure I was joining the circuits properly.

The whole process took several hours, but I enjoyed it! Here is the finished template. Stay tuned: the next step is to make it more permanent.

Below, I have posted a link showing a faster way (15 minutes)  to do the same thing. Mind you, the preparation for the 15 minutes is so complicated it would have driven me crazy trying to get it right.

http://www.labyrinthos.net/layout.html

Also,  it seems overly mechanical: almost too fast and efficient. Joining things "by hand" felt more organic and I just felt good while raking it; it morphed into a sort of odd dance (start, go around, join, go back, then repeat getting wider and wider). The labyrinth came together little by little rather than all at once and as if by too swift magic. I guess I like my magic slow.

Mowing the labyrinth area happens unexpectedly

I am not sure why I decided to make a labyrinth. Mostly I just wondered if I actually could. I would like to think I had a deeper purpose. I probably do, but I am not good at articulating that sort of thing. Concrete practicalities are where I shine.

The first thing I did was to decide where it was to be. Putting it in the lawn would have inconvenienced the lawn mowers to no end, and it would have to be a very spiffy, well-kept version. That required too much maintenance from me as well.

I had no idea lawn mowing was such an exact science. The zen of mowing kicks in too, I've heard.

I tramped around the field for awhile musing. The marker shows where we planted our $10 sugar maple tree. In a few years it will be visible above the grass and in the meantime I didn't want it to be accidentally mowed.

This was taken back in June. Now the tree is no longer visible. Golden rod has replaced the dandelions. 

So  I made a sketch, which shows the two existing paths, which join up further down the slope and end up at the water's edge. I liked the idea of coming upon a labyrinth in the wilderness, as it were.

This shows the view from the back of the cottage and the Friendly Giant's grave aka veggie garden.

Steering well clear of our maple seedling, I placed two markers at what would be the tentative  entrance to the labyrinth area and then four more outlining the circumference to which I tied plastic bags  so they could be seen:

Going down a path to a path seems like fun to me; here is where it will go.

It seemed no sooner had I arranged with our lawn-mowing company to do this work, than the mowers arrived. I was pleasantly surprised. I showed the  foreman my little sketch of the work to be done and brought him up to speed about the meaning and purpose of labyrinths. He looked a bit taken aback, but I figured he simply had not done a lot of labyrinth preparation. He was right into it and suggested using corn to mark the side of the path, as someone had done this effectively in another part of the island. This struck me as a good idea especially as we could later eat the cobs, a strategy that seemed to surprise him for reasons which still puzzle me. In any event, he went ahead and made the initial big circle:

I love those little mowers; they buzz around like hummingbirds.

The labyrinth project gets off to a good start. This is the first circuit.

However, several hours later,  a large truck appeared towing a flat bed trailer on which was a much  larger piece of heavier equipment. I watched as a large burly guy with a shaven head approached the deck where I was standing.   I wondered why the crew had returned. It turned out they hadn't.  It was a different burly bald fellow  Seems the first crew had been there only for the weekly mow.  This explained Burly One's demeanour; I  must admit his sangfroid in the face of what must have been surprising information was impressive.

This job in the field apparently required heavy-duty bush-hogging, hence the new guy and the impressive equipment. I told him his twin had done a very careful job with the smaller mower, which seemed to be still in fine shape upon departure. After a few moments' conversation about other things, which is de rigeur down here,  Burly Two then departed. He seemed slightly disappointed. He told me his next job was to help move some cottager's newly purchased 400-pound statue to a different place on his property.

Of all the crackpot schemes.

Whence the labyrinth: a short history and a decision

Labyrinths were often used by Christian pilgrims who were unable to journey to a holy shrine; they walked a labyrinth instead. (You might see the Camino de Santiago in Spain as a very long, stretched-out labyrinth.) However, this structure predates Christianity and is found in many ancient cultures. The word labyrinth is derived from the word labrys, the sacred, double-sided axe of the Minoans, who worshipped the Mother Goddess and gave us the myth of the Minotaur.

The cathedral at Chartres is supposed to have been built on the site of a shrine sacred to the earth mother. Its 12-circuit labyrinth ( the centre counting as the 12th)  is a rather mysterious addition to the cathedral and is thought to connect to very ancient beliefs in feminine deities. Look carefully, and you can see double-bladed axe-shapes.

Source: www.lessons4living.com/chartres_labyrinth.htm

Chartres is redolent with feminine symbols in addition to the circular labyrinth. The veneration of the Virgin Mary, which arose in the early middle ages when Chartres was built (1250 A.D.), reflected a desire to balance patriarchal Roman Catholicism with the addition of the feminine. This resulted in the assimilation of the Goddess with Mary.  Read more if you like at this link: 

http://mirrorofisis.freeyellow.com/id149.html

Episcopalian priest Lauren Artress notes that, if the Rose window in Chartres Cathedral, were laid on the floor of the cathedral, it would cover the labyrinth. Or at least come close. According to another authority, Robert Ferre, the centre of the Rose window misses the roseate centre of the labyrinth by five feet but is "exactly 100 of the mason's foot measures from the floor," so there does seem to be some degree of intentionality  (www.labyrinthproject.com/FAQ005.html).

Source: www.discover-chartres.com/chartres-cathedral-choir-and-chapels.html

At this point you may want to read the Rev. Artress’s seminal book on the labyrinth, entitled Walking a Sacred Path. She notes the many approaches to this type of process meditation: allowing the Ego to let go, paying “gracious attention” to what is waiting to well up in you, asking a question, repeating a mantra, reading scripture,  asking for help, honouring a benchmark in life, or working with a dream.

Working with a dream while walking the labyrinth is engaging. I like the idea of having something coming from the unconscious and being walked through on a path on the physical, concrete, material (Mother) earth.  Artress adds that the pattern of the walk can be seen as one of purgation (on going inwards), illumination (during meditation at the centre) and union (going outwards to rejoin the world in a transformed, more compassionate, way). 

  

I would like to have made a 12-circuit labyrinth because it provides a more convoluted walk in and out of the four quadrants, but it is very complicated mathematically. The little curves around the circumference are not decoration, but are called lunations and correspond to the phases of the moon. Getting them right would be tricky as would the pattern in general. 

I chose a simpler model — the seven-circuit labyrinth. It lacks the surprise and mystery of the 12-circuit, but for an enneagram Five, who really needs to put thought into action, it is a good place to start. As a friend of mine used to say, "Never let the perfect become the enemy of the good."

Source: www.lessons4living.com

I decide to make a labyrinth

Thanks to hearing  Radha Lion’s wonderful presentation at the final intensive of the Haden Spiritual direction program at Mt. Carmel, I learned more about my enneagram type. I am a "Five."  I like being a five because fives spend a lot of time taking things in. We are very observant. As well, we’re excellent listeners because we don’t feel the need to talk a lot. 

However, the downside is that we soak up information and perceptions to such a degree as to be avaricious about it. We are disinclined to produce outflow. We don’t speak enough.  After the intensive,  I read The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective by Richard Rohr and Andreas Evert, and   I concluded I need to spend way more time expressing myself.

So when I began to think about creating a labyrinth at the cottage, this project quickly became an exercise in actually doing it, not just thinking about it. 

But “why a labyrinth?” you ask. Good question. I love labyrinths. Need I say more? Well, yes, I do apparently.

Walking a labyrinth is a way of “meditating by doing” — good for people like me who have trouble sitting still. 

It is important to note that a labyrinth differs from a maze in that it appeals to the other side of the brain from the linear, problem-solving, ego-dominated side we usually work from.  What is the source of this effect?  Unlike a maze in which there are many false paths and dead ends, there is only one path in and out of a labyrinth. (You can call it unicursal — if you, like me, favour $10 words.)

Source|; http://www.stjohnsdryden.org/labyrinth.html

The result of this difference is that you don’t have to figure out the correct path, as you do with a maze (multicursal). Nor, incidentally, do you care about how fast you do it this time as opposed to the last time. Instead, you slow down; in fact,  the twists and turns tend to slow you down. You are invited to leave the goal-directed analytical part of your brain and go to what is intuitive, imaginative, and receptive. You leave chronos time (measured, clock time) and may enter kairos time (God's time or if you prefer, the eternal present, the now).

For me, setting aside my need to measure, control, analyse or influence events is a lesson I have to learn again and again. I need connect to the immanent side of the divine: the receptive, mysterious feminine if you will.

Simply putting one foot ahead of the other will get me to the centre of a labyrinth and then back out. This knowledge frees me from outer distractions and allows me to be open to my inmost self — and to God within. 

Confident that God (or the Divine or the deep meaning of creation) has placed me on a life path which, although it goes to and fro or even doubles back, nevertheless unaccountably unwinds towards the divine centre of my being — my soul — is a very comforting thought for me. 

The labyrinth acts as a symbol of this journey — or this pilgrimage — inward.  When we walk the labyrinth, we are connected to the source of our own being as well as to the calm centre of the path. Trusting in the meander of the path is one of the main reasons the labyrinth is so powerful a tool for psychic and spiritual wholeness.

Source: http://www.unitync.net/Labyrinth.html

Where did the labyrinth originate? Stay tuned! And yes, eventually I will stop talking about it and show actual pictures of the work in progress. I am a Five. I am taking a while to get out of my head ...

Karaoke PEI-style was lots of fun

No one could ever call me an early adopter and nowhere is this more true than in respect to karaoke — a recreational activity which probably peaked in excitement about 20+ years ago.

But when Greg and I heard about Karaoke Night at the local community centre, we felt we had to go to this our first karaoke night. Doing karaoke — or is it singing along to karaoke — wasn't exactly on my bucket list, but then, I like adding things to a list after I've done them just for the joy of crossing them off.

We had a little nap after dinner and then set out on the five-minute drive to the Fortune Community Centre, site of bingo, trivial pursuit nights, wedding receptions, Michael Smith’s Fund-Raising Night, and now, for the first time, karaoke.

From the web-site  http://www.fortunecommunitycentre.com

We arrived on time, for once. And for once, we didn’t need to have worried about being prompt. There were a couple of attendees smoking outside with whom we exchanged hellos. Inside, the DJ had all the equipment set up; the bar was open; I ordered a Keith’s; Greg got an Alpine, and we surveyed the mostly empty room. A couple of tables over, there were six other attendees poring over the karaoke book listing the music, but that was about it.

Later one of the organizers explained that people just don’t come out to things early in the evening (it was about 10:30 by this time). He recalled a dance held earlier this year. The band cost a lot of money, and at midnight, there were only three people there. At 12:15 a.m., another 75 suddenly arrived — to his enormous relief. The dances around here “start” at 10:00 p.m. and end at 2:00 a.m. Local customs can sometimes be a bit puzzling to people like us “from away.”   

Be that as it may, I did learn a few more things that night.

First of all, you don’t start singing until the words on the screen turn green.

Also, it is a good idea to have some familiarity with how the words fit the tune before you choose a song. And it should go without saying that you should have a pretty firm  handle on that tune.  Just because I like Time after Time didn’t mean I should have chosen it. Cyndi Lauper packed way more words into that song than I remembered.  And they (and I) turned green in an awful hurry. 

You can hear for yourself what I was up against lyrics-wise: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PqhOrgk11A

I did much better with Somewhere over the Rainbow. I even held the long note at the end without going flat. The DJ  remarked positively to me about my interpretation. Wow! I acknowledged the applause from the audience with a small self-deprecating bow.

Then I realized I had received almost as much applause when I bombed as when I did better.  Admittedly, it was kind of like singing in a nursing home. In a long-term care facility, people are listening, but they can’t all hear.  At karaoke, they were hearing but, because they were busy leafing through the song book and writing down the titles they were going to perform, they were not really listening.  Nevertheless, whenever anyone finished, the handful of people in the audience paused and heartily applauded.

This held an important lesson for me.  It’s good to get up and sing in front of an audience just for the heck of it no matter how it goes. In life, sometimes you should just get up for fun and thank your lucky stars you are in a group of people who applaud you for doing just that, even when the results are not the greatest. 

It’s nice not to be judged and likely found wanting. Having people applaud even a feeble attempt gives you the confidence that you can do better the next time.

Also, you are inclined to return the favour and give others hearty applause too. To me, that greases the social machinery in a very nice way.

I was chatting with the organist at church the next day and mentioned my adventures the night before. He nodded and said that people around here are always very supportive of one another. I like that.

So much so that I’m looking forward to the next karaoke evening. I may sing Elvis Presley’s Teddy Bear, a featured song of the Ausable Singers, a seniors' choir in which I am an alto. I shall have to master the soprano part, however.

On a different inspirational note, B.B. King’s Stand by Me comes to mind as well. It has a catchy tune but relatively few words. 

I noticed both pieces were both in the DJ’s book, and I can practise them ahead of time via YouTube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3byPGrsvyVY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ky0x3_0li2I

The Village Feast was a super treat

We had a great time at this event. Every year for the past seven years, Chef Michael Smith and a vast army of local volunteers (including members of the actual armed forces) make it happen. The dinner is a fundraiser for four charities. PEI-based Farmer Helping Farmers builds cook-houses  in Kenya with donations from the feast. Other money goes locally to the Souris Food Bank, Coats for Kids, and the Main Street Family Resource Centre. 

What struck me was how well-organized it was and how helpful and cheerful the volunteers were. One of them told me they had 1,100 meals ready to go this year. And as you shall see, this wasn't just hot-dogs-on-a-bun fare, but a delicious three-course locally provisioned meal. When you consider Souris, the largest place around here for about 25 miles, has a population of 1,600, that is quite a feat. 

The physical layout  was a big part of the success. Moving so many people through the event over just three hours and keeping everyone was happy was what  really impressed me. It was like going through a combination of  IKEA and that Swiss-based restaurant in downtown Toronto whose name I forget.  Aha ... Movenpick!

Our ticket is propped up against a bag of lettuce as a centrepiece. It had tear-offs all around it — missing in the photo, but you can see the perforations — which we used at each food station.

 

Because of the high winds due to Tropical Storm Arthur, the event was held inside this year — necessitating last minute changes that seemed to us — as mere attendees — to go off without a hitch.The entrance to the Eastern Kings Sportsplex is not pretty, but the bales of hay were placed in such a way that a large crowd could congregate but then get narrowed into a line to go in to the building. You just followed the labyrinthine path.

I  suspect the same farmer who last year donated the hay bales at Micheal Smith's wedding also donated to the Feast. We visited Sweetwater Farms last year; this is the hay barn.

Anyhow, once inside, we were met with a volunteer at the entrance to the dining area,which is the ice rink in the winter. Her sole duty was to give us and everyone else useful advice to make getting our food easy.

Find your chairs first, tip them up, go get your chowder and dessert, and then afterwards, head out for your main course. Sounded sensible to me!

However, we were immediately distracted by the oysters, and not reading the sign too carefully decided on two for $5, much to the amusement of the volunteer shuckers.

As the salty dog on the left said, it's all for a good cause.

Having tipped up their chairs,  our table mates had gone for their dinner:

The chowder stand was out back. The shrimp, lobster, and potato-filled  delight was served  by members of the Canadian Armed Forces.

Next, each of us picked up one of the 1,100 rhubarb shortcakes and whipped cream for our dessert:

Here is what things looked like at about 5:00. The feast ran from 3:00 to 6:00 in the afternoon.

Chowder eaten,  it was back out the way we came in for our main course:

The steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and gravy station was first.  Such a clever way of dividing the crowd: by the degree of doneness each person wanted for their meat.  But no well-done steaks on offer, as you can see.

The lobster station was next, made obvious by the lobster boat! I wonder who lent it.

A couple of eager young people handed out the greens with gloved hands from huge bowls, another time saver. Alas, no picture of them in action.

A nod to Kenyan cuisine was given in curry-flavoured githeri, consisting of beans and maize. It was a tasty vegetarian addition.

Next stop: Acadian bread baked in that nifty oven, which usually lives near Michael Smith's kitchen.

Here is the final product; we had already devoured the lobster- and shrimp-laden  chowder.

Greg had gone the surf and turf route and did not have enough room for the lobster, which we took home for our next day's supper.

Lots of silly entertainment was orchestrated by Michael Smith while we ate. These 12 people paid $100 each to wear a funny Anne-hat, put on a potato bag apron, shuck an oyster, peel a potato and apologize (we're Canadians) to the person next to them. The money was donated to Farmers Helping Farmers.

I think they also had to drink the strawberry cordial:

Later, the crown gave a standing ovation to the orange-clad Feast volunteers.

Time to go home. The crowd is breaking up.

We stopped off at the gift stand and looked over African-made wares.

I suggested to Greg he buy another giraffe, as his previous one had its nose knocked off in one of our moves. This one does have feet; I was concentrating on its snout  for the picture.

So many sponsors:

I can hardly wait until next year.  I may not only attend, but also  volunteer to peel potatoes or maybe slice up rhubarb.

No more talking with trolls

I usually don’t comment on public venues on anything controversial (religion and politics come to mind), but something came over me the other day. Likely it was boredom.  I joined a slew of people on a CBC string on Facebook commenting on Rob Ford’s return to the city after rehab.

I opined that he did not look a lot slimmer.  Almost immediately someone accused me of fat shaming.  Oh dear, was I doing that? I reflected briefly, then wrote back to say I was just puzzled: he didn’t look to have dropped as many pant sizes as his brother said. That threw the fat onto the Internet fire:

Well, said the other person, I should look at his face to see the evidence. I did look and did not see a lot of change. However, at this point, I left the conversation, as boredom now seemed a better alternative to engaging in this any further.  I was feeling “trolled.”

Being something of a coward by nature, I thought withdrawing was the intelligent thing to do. Also I was beginning to wonder about my own inner troll. Was I being disingenuous saying I was “puzzled” when really I was “fat shaming” and didn’t want to admit it? I needed to think about this dark side of myself for a while.

However, things on the mini-string I started did not end there, and I had the dubious pleasure of seeing what happened next.

Someone posted a bit of uncomplimentary name-calling: to wit that the mayor was not only sizable but also a liar.  In response, the troll opined that not only was the new commenter fat and ugly, but she had something inappropriate on her chest (not exactly the words he or she used, but decency requires a euphemism).  Well this was a bit off-topic, I thought, deleted the item, and went to the next message in my in-box.

The next thing I knew, into my email popped the next round of chat. Someone else had entered the conversation and had rushed to my defense, saying that calling me fat and old was not at all sporting and was just as bad in its way as fat shaming.

To say I was startled would be putting it mildly. How on earth had the troll accessed my Facebook page!  So much for remaining aloof. Curiosity immediately got the better of me.  

I opened the link provided by Troll and found myself on Facebook looking at an image purportedly of me. But what on earth was I doing in a wading pool – haven’t done that for years, if ever. Then I looked at who was splashing about: a hearty woman of a certain age with a tattoo on her chest. She looked to be having lots of fun.

But the photo was most assuredly not of me. 

Thank goodness. I breathed a hearty sigh of relief:  Troll had not found me.

It turned out that commenter who had rushed to my defense had confused my name with that frolicking woman’s. Having no desire to draw further attention to myself, I did not correct that error!

The next thing I did was to re-check the privacy settings on my FB page and tighten them up. I also deleted my comment, and with it the string of subsequent comments, from the original posting.

I looked up Troll and found a Facebook page with nothing on it: no pictures, posts, nothing except a brief reference to attendance at a high school. There was next to nothing on the Internet as well.

This spooked me; it’s a cruel, mad word out there and I am not going to engage, even briefly, with trolls ever again!