But if you had known what this means, ’I desire mercy and not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the guiltless. (Matthew 12)

Four AM and an argument starts in the alley. There’s words. One that stands out. And there’s various themes on the word, various activities introduced in relation to this word that works hard as verb, adverb, and adjective.

Besides this there’s lots of banging on the dumpster below our window. Not the regular bottle-picking banging. Loud angry banging. And I’m wondering when a neighbour might yell out a window for them to shut-up and leave…a sure way of prolonging the fracas.

After awhile they go away. Voices fade as they move across the parking lot, still wrangling, yelling, interjecting. ’Fuck’ works fine as a noun as well.

I don’t go back to sleep. I stew instead. I accuse them…charge them with disturbing the peace, with dereliction, with having a three word vocabulary.

I get over myself, barely.

What do I know? What brought them to cursing and banging out their frustration in the middle of the night? Were they fighting over bottles? Perhaps. There was a woman. She was keeping up to the squalling. Were they fighting over her? Perhaps.

Is this as deep as I see?

Is there mercy enough in me to imagine them as children? Or do I see them only as projects fit for a program? Do I take up a position about them? Do I sacrifice them through objectification? Or do I show some mercy…and so offer myself mercy?

What were they like when they were five years old? Who did they look to? Who loved them? Who didn’t? Who did they try to love? Who’s desires did they imitate? Who’s desires did they acquire? Did they acquire the ability to love?

And if they never really acquired the capability for charity, for love, can they be guilty of anything besides being noisy and occasionally obnoxious?

What power is behind the eyes that see them as guiltless?

Technorati Tags: Mercy, Love, Guilt, Charity, Beauty, Peace, Dumpsters, Bottle picking

We walked through the Canmore Nordic Centre. Few eyes met us.

Deb and I felt our bulky cotton sweaters, non-coordinated fleeces, and aging hiking boots weigh heavy. Felt…not so much like cross-country-alpine-paupers, more like the vastly-uninformed, or more like aliens.

Yet all around us the brightly woven hats, the raspberry tinted goggles–shielding the eyes we couldn’t catch–the spandex and smart-wool, the flashing titanium poles, the slip-sleek skis slung over shoulders, attested to a kind of surreal alienism of its own. The earth as giant gymnasium. But that’s me…the way I like to frame it.

Still, it is possible to be in nature and not notice. Not want to notice. Because the created earth can crack open a soul. The moving water and shifting light expose our mortality. The rock reminds us of our peculiar permanence. Everything in nature points here and away.

Me, I live in glass and steel and cement, too far from the earth. I walk with my wife in the river valley to reconnect. And on occasion, we come to the valleys and mountains for a terra firma transfusion.

We left the Nordic Centre and headed for the hills.

We met the late Lawrence Grassi. Looking at his hands holding the wood rail, it comes to me that there is divinity in this dirt. I imagine that if he got any closer to the earth he would turn to loam.

He gave himself to it. He scratched out the trails we walked on. Lowered logs over rivulets. And I imagine sat by his ponds for hours. Listening to the water drop away, listening to the rock wall crack on a hot day. Dust to dust. Trust to trust.

Squirrel Midden

Technorati Tags: Canmore Nordic Centre, Mount Lawrence Grassi, Bow Valley, Hiking, Beauty, Peace

It’s a short sometimes steep 2 Km hike with a 300 meter climb to the Grassi Lakes…ponds really. Mount Lawrence Grassi and Ha Ling Peak look down on us as we climb. Unfolding to the west is the Goat Range, and across the Bow valley the Grotto and Charles Stuart mountains shade Canmore townsite.

Offering of mountains

Blessing of mountains

Peace of mountains

Message of mountains

Mountains can blossom in any season

Simplicity of Mountains

The silence of mountains unsettle then shelter your soul

Technorati Tags: Canmore, Grassi Lakes hike, Mount Lawrence Grassi, Bow Valley, Ha Ling Peak, Grotto Mountain, Beauty, Peace

I was just informed that the "Three Sisters" were originally called the "Three Nuns" because they were "veiled" by snowfall. They were said to be kneeling in prayer, and asking God’s blessing over the valley below.

The last time I was in Canmore there was no Starbucks. Now, happily, there is not only a Starbucks here (forgive me for being a corporate pawn in this instance), but from the Eastern window you can see the Three Sisters.

It’s overcast today. That’s okay, there’s something wonderfully mystical about shifting patterns of cloud at play on edges and faces of mountains.

Three Sisters from Canmore Starbucks

Technorati Tags: Three Sisters, Three Nuns, Canmore, Beauty, Peace