Hooliganting: The Art of Losing Things: Solitude

Hooliganting: The Art of Losing Things: Solitude: Everyone was where they were supposed to be. Having played chauffeur to various children and having delivered them all to their locations, I...

The Art of Losing Things: Solitude

Everyone was where they were supposed to be. Having played chauffeur to various children and having delivered them all to their locations, I discovered that I had that rare thing. FREE TIME. I had absolutely nothing to do that HAD to be done. Instead, I had two hours that I could spend however I wanted to. The thought of negotiating construction traffic was really unappealing and I would have lost an hour, so I drove up the hill and kidnapped my brother's dog.

Ignoring the roadways, I opted to go up in behind his house and into the woodland trails. They are well marked and convenient. But now I have an excitable energetic dog to wear out and he prefers the narrow trails. It wasn't long before we were up into the trees and off the beaten track.

As I wandered through the narrow trails, I came across random benches and fire pits that let you know that once, these trails were well travelled and well loved. There was a humid steam that came up from the soft ground as I walked over and up into the birch trees. The scent of woodsy mulch came into my nose and the sun streamed in through the trees. I could see the wild strawberries blooming and I couldn't hear anything other than birds and the wind in the trees. It felt like I was completely alone. Other than the dog...but he kept going on ahead and coming back to make sure he wasn't lost.

Me and my Shadow

I rounded the tops of the hillside cliffs and gazed at the river below. The water rippling under the sunshine was an invitation that I couldn't ignore and under the trees, the heat from the summerlike sun was intense. So, I found a track that led to another track that led to a quad trail that led to the river. Down I went, knowing full well that what goes that far down, has to come back up.

My original thought was to wander the trail by the river. Except I got to the bottom (with a very muddy dog that had found some puddles), and could only see a trail across the river. And the river was flowing the wrong way. Fortunately, I had my cell phone. It was even charged. So, I called my brother and asked him to figure out where I was. Sure enough, I had found the wrong river. I was on the Hangingstone instead of the Horse. No, there was no other way back except to climb back up that hill.  Off I went...and climbing up was hot, dusty and time consuming. On reaching the top, there was no time to go down to the Horse River. I had to go back to being "the driver." And I had to return a very muddy dog...

Lost at the Hangingstone River

Happy to be cooling off

Being lost was fantastic. No one was around and all I had to do was enjoy the scenery and walk. I found views and paths that felt like I was back home on the Island. Truly, I am convinced I should get lost more often. This was right up there with random acts of tourism, but this one was in my own back yard.

You are always on my mind

Emotions. People think that you ought to feel. Yes. And people think that one is supposed to want to participate in experiences that will allow you to feel and enjoy these emotive experiences. "You are always on my mind" drifts into my head. Who is you?

In the effort to live what I consider to be my best attempts at Christian living (this is my faith based response - not to knock anyone elses right now - so please don't knock mine...even when I am doing it wrong) I often encounter people that need me, want me to listen, need to be the "you" in this song. I pray for them. I am concerned for them. I need to help them. I need to spend quality time with them. This is essentially my best efforts to say that "you" are important and that you matter to me.

I have been informed from time to time that I spread myself too thin. That might be true. Being a social creature, I enjoy people. While I am not the funniest, the smartest, the best at anything really, I really enjoy spending that time that "you" have to spend with me. Admittedly, I have some odd quirks. I am not that person that will delve into personal stuff unless you volunteer information that leads into the deeper discussions. I do genuinely try to listen to "you" when you speak. If I call you, I wait for you to call me back. I am the person that likes to remember birthdays. I like to spend time with the children and their friends. I like to chat with my neighbours over the fence. Yes, I am busy...but never too busy to care.

For the record, I can take constructive criticism. Almost every performance evaluation that I have ever had says that. I acknowledge that I have room to grow and that I am not perfect. I have emotions and feelings, that are the same as everyone elses. I bury them a lot as I try not to upset the proverbial applecart. While I hear the messages and can understand the reasoning and logic, my humor might not be yours. That is OK for me.

But my question is this. When is it acceptable for the "you" in the song to be me? I am on a journey to become the best me I can be. Sometimes, that means that I need the you in the song to be me ...for me...God put me here for a purpose (sometimes that is ridiculously elusive) and I intend to do my best job. Sometimes...I get that wrong...I apologize.

It is okay to be different.

Hooliganting: Where there is Smoke, there's Fire?

Hooliganting: Where there is Smoke, there's Fire?: I am still madly chuckling as I write this one. I actually think I should have stopped to take a picture. But, I didn't as I was driving at ...

Where there is Smoke, there's Fire?

I am still madly chuckling as I write this one. I actually think I should have stopped to take a picture. But, I didn't as I was driving at the time. People frown upon using technology as one is driving a moving vehicle after all. However, this one might have been worth stopping for except, it would have been obvious as to what I was doing. I know, what am I talking about?

You see, I find it fascinating that every year our community goes from Winter to Spring in the space of about two weeks. The weather has been warm and sunny. Rain has been minimal but just enough to smell Springlike scents of blossoms and oh yes, smoke. Forest fire season is upon us.

Right now in our district there are several fires burning. We not only have the fire department out and about doing controlled burns, we have forestry workers tackling the massive wildfires that seem to spring up overnight. There are homes being threatened south of us, while we just watch the plumes of smoke shift in direction with the wind.

Grasslands Fire Image

Last year at this time, we had the Richardson fire and the Slave Lake fires. Both were costly and devestating to our province and our lungs. The air hung low and thick with smoke. It was so thick that you felt like every breath outdoors in the heat of the day was like chewing smoke. I applaud the community spirit in which Slave Lake commemorated their one year anniversary of their fire, they found hope through the devestation. But, that doesn't explain the humor of my beginning.

No, I am painting you a picture. This is a town that eyes fire warily. We hear stories of keep your ATV's at a cooler temperature. Carry water. Don't light campfires without the proper precautions. Smokey the Bear preaches safety messages. Report Wildfires are up everywhere. Yet, do you remember how most forest fires start?

Do you?

With a lit cigarette...

Every time I drive past the fire station, there is a bunch of ladies (I assume admin people?) standing around the building smoking cigarettes. The hands wave, the smoke curls from their mouths. They aren't that far from the road. Ashes are tapped and caught by the wind. The mixed messaging strikes me as hilarious. Fire department employees smoking...I would really love to hear how they explain that to the students that visit. I really would....