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pete
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the market is busy, always, why the hell do people try to drive through it? it is extremely busy with pedestrians alone. it is like a farmers market with a few more stalls and many many more people. the market is hellish, so many people dont care, so many people are just making their way through it as if they own it. there are too many people in it to do that. it forces a community on you, whether you want it or not. it is behind the big mall, and sort of behind parliment in lower town. the vendors are friendly, the buskers have talent. they would certaintly be well recieved on the ottawa folk scene, it is a wonder they don't go to any of the open mikes.
i was training for my job as green peace on the street in lower town behind the market, and then went to observe the two people soliciting memberships at the market entrance off rideau. after about an hour we went to one of the little restaurants at the market square. after a brief discussion of the various procedures of the day and learning the hotline to find out where and when i will be working tomorrow i decided to talk to this man with a newly promoted supervisor. i guess he was about 60 years old. he looked his age, but had a hidden vitality. being a catholic, anglican, jewish mix he was beaten in school somewhere in new york state as a child. later he came to canada. i dont know how much better his experience was here; we have many many skeletons in our closets and are far from a perfect country in history or present practice.
tony, the supervisor, is into philosophy, but also politics and economics. personaly i am more into philosophy and believe that it trumps politics. josh, the man who we sat done with, is deeply spiritual. he has had a hard life, including the beatings and the death of his wife from cancer when his son was still young. all his experiences, though, only streghtned his resolve. he took on many aspects of native spirituality, especially the totems of british columbia. he spent alteast a year living with an indigienous nation and underwent the spirit quest ritual. he is a painter and a learner.
his forceful calm sweeped over me as i listened to him talking, connecting the east to the west to the americas. there is no difference between the three expect for perspective. we all believe the same, core thing. churches and shamans and priestly classes and geography have just altered them to suit the needs of the people or the elite, too often the elite. i could see socrates, lao tzu, solomon, job, siva, siddharta (the buddha), brahma, tao, brahmin, the eternal, the beautiful, god, and life itself in his words. the flowed in his cigarette scarred voice, they came out and found their valley.
this man is a true teacher. he has never stopped learning. when he was talking tony he modeled his words towards tony's uppermiddle class background, to his comfortable life and to his political and economic interests. when he talked to me his tone and manner and focus shifted. he prodded a different part of my mind then he did tony, but to the same effect. he stimulated new thoughts. he reminded me of socrates, of siddharta, of the priests of the third estate. he modeled his speech to individual souls, and he took you into his mind, completely feeding you his energy, and feeding of yours. it was elevating.
and then the secular world woke up. tony had to go. i had class and wanted to buy a bike from recycles in lower town. the bike store ended up not being open, the head mechanic forgot. i decided against class. i was clasped in josh's words all night, though not consiously. i went to the folk cafe. kyla and nick were there already, the others were not coming. i was embraced by the music. i was high. i could see the room moving, i floated when my eyes met kyla's and we smiled. i was spacey. i had to go out side during each intermission. her songs took me away. she is too modest. we walked home together after, talking minor politics and about how we hate the city sky but love this folk scene of ours. about various things in our lives, and then we parted.
i read for a bit. i went to bed. i woke up. answered the phone. got up. answered the door. read. thought. got lost in my thoughts. realized that i hadnt thought about last night when i woke up. got trapped in those thoughts. left for school. got here. got a coffee. talked to karen. came to the hums lounge. blathed. checked my email. josh came alive again. i realized that he was in my thoughts. not him but his words. it was a comfort. i create too much angst. but this man can channel it. i wrote a poem. i tried to write it last night. when i stopped after a stanza kyla looked at me and said i could still borrow it. she understood my explanation that it wasnt alive anymore. song writers and poets have an affinity. i cant wait to get my guitar. then my words that are not a poets words can have their stage.
but josh is still there. i was unready for his words. i was unaware of their power. i feel their calmness coming over me then receding. like waves. like the coulds over the full moon last night on the walk home.
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040603
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