Fall Equinox 2024: The Depth of Time
I wonder sometimes at the dimensions of time. Seasonal like this Equinox and tied to movements of the universe. Linear or cyclical and tied to human history, the decisions and actions of individuals and communities. Or even the way we think of our personal age or lifetime, as in “length of time.But I think there’s another kind of time we might call thin or packed full, apparently random, where a split second can change everything in a life: direction, plans, capabilities. Yes, there is shock, anger, and discouragement at times. But in this kind of time there are also moments I call grace, though someone else may call them fate and maybe they are both.
Six weeks ago I was struck by a vehicle while riding my bicycle to the downtown farmer’s market. I am walking and talking, but it’s put me in the slow lane temporarily—slow of moving and slow of thinking. I find myself looking in on human goings-on as a semi-outsider. Watching and listening to the daily rush of life from the sidelines. Somehow I see and hear more in this state. Some of it comforting and some of it disturbing. Let me tell you about the comfort.
The week after I was hit I saw our building janitor, Sahwa; I was on my way to a doctor’s appointment. After I told her what had happened she said to me, “You weren’t killed? How come you weren’t killed?” She thought for a moment. “In my culture we would give a big donation,” she said. “Give a big donation to something! That’s what I would do.” Her words stayed with me. Later that day, I came home and made some donations. Her name I would come to learn means, Angel, in Arabic.
That first week too I attended a memorial for sexually exploited women in Edmonton. It’s something I try to do every year for women who go missing, are murdered or die prematurely because of their time in the sex industry. The organizers were handing out tobacco ties: loose tobacco tied up in little red pouches, an Indigenous tradition. “What do you do with them?” I asked? “Make an offering to the earth. It’s a way to give thanks. To pray.” I took one. I knew right away what I wanted to do. As soon as I could walk as far as my favourite lookout on the river, I shook the medicine free and gave thanks for the healing that had brought me there.
A couple of weeks ago now, I was renewing my membership at the art gallery and an old workmate hailed me. He’s on long-term disability leave he told me. He had had a brain tumor. He showed me the crescent shaped scar on his scalp where they went in. He didn’t know if he would be able to return to work. What he was focusing on instead, he said, were people. People. People. He said it three times. I took that to mean relationships. We took some selfies together. He gave me pause: what am I focusing on at this time?
Last week I met with a friend whose cancer has metastasized. When I asked her how she is, she was straightforward. “It’s progressing. But it’s okay. As I said to my husband, I can do everything I want to.” And that floored me. Can I do everything I want to? Maybe not in my current physical and mental state, but when I’m healthy, am I doing everything I want to? And even now, am I being everything I can? Am I choosing fully?
My final revelation. I take little walks, a few times a day to gain strength. I was strolling by the St. Teresa of Calcutta school in my neighbourhood this week. The sign outside read, “With children comes hope.” I live in a very diverse neighbourhood. Children of every creed (Buddhist, Muslim and Christian), ethnicity, racial background. The students were on their lunch hour and they were in every corner playing. The older kids helping the younger ones on the swings, the boys and girls playing soccer together, football and basketball. Everyone getting along, having such raucous joy. Hope.
And so these are my humble offerings to you this fall equinox, these messengers and messages, a small lesson on the depth of time.
12 Comments
Kate Quinn
September 22, 2024With deep gratitude for your life, Audrey, and your reflections.
M.J.Thibodeau - art in clay name is jano
September 22, 2024Dearest woman Audrey, special friend of late 70’s – Wonder of wonders to read your Fall-Equinox email – Human life so fragile can be transformed to the Funeral Home in ashes – This July 2024 the HEAT of the SUN was so intensely HOT burning to 30 to 34 degrees Centigrade outside / inside / day and night – My apartment facing the sun heat till afternoon – I was transformed by this HEAT- no energy, no more clay in hands – no drawings – no appetite, no Luksusowa. ALL nauseated me. Autumn/Fall has come, the air is cooler – My whole body speaks differently – Another visit to medical Doctor. ‘There is a time… ‘ at 89 years old I am waiting.
Audrey
September 22, 2024Hi Jano,
Thank you for sharing your journey. I learn from all of it.
In my prayers, peace,
Audrey
Barbara Roy
September 22, 2024Thank you once again for your thoughtful observations about life and living in ever changing times.I hope for your speedy complete recovery.
Jenine Greenwich
September 22, 2024What a beautiful reflection. Sometimes the messages we need appear, hey? Thank you for writing.
Carolyn Pogue
September 22, 2024Thank you, friend. Yes and Amen.
Audrey
September 22, 2024Thank you, Everyone, for your comments. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you;) Thank you!
jano thibodeau
September 22, 2024Dearest woman Audrey, special friend of late 70’s – Wonder of wonders to read your Fall-Equinox email – Human life so fragile can be transformed to the Funeral Home in ashes – This July 2024 the HEAT of the SUN was so intensely HOT burning to 30 to 34 degrees Centigrade outside / inside / day and night – My apartment facing the sun heat till afternoon – I was transformed by this HEAT- no energy, no more clay in hands – no drawings – no appetite, no Luksusowa. ALL nauseated me. Autumn/Fall has come, the air is cooler – My whole body speaks differently – Another visit to medical Doctor. ‘There is a time… ‘ at 89 years old I am waiting
Linda Bumstead
September 23, 2024Greetings Audrey,
I’m glad to see you are up to doing your wonderful Blog. Despite still convalescing your words are as insightful and comforting as ever.
I live by Holy Child School. It is French Immersion and Spanish Bilingual. I love seeing kids of all backgrounds laughing, running and playing together.
I also like seeing all the diverse university students on the LRT chatting and happy to be with each other. As you say it gives me hope.
I’m sure it’s very hard to work patiently on your recovery but it sounds as if you are finding strength in doing that. All the best as you go forward.
Audrey
September 25, 2024Thank you for your stories of hope.
Henny
September 25, 2024Thanks, Audrey. I love your reflections and points to ponder. Blessings to you in your recovery. Sending love.
Audrey
September 25, 2024Thanks for reading, Henny!