Trompe l'oeil

 

Trompe l'oeil literally means "trick of the eye."  It is a term used to describe a painting technique that uses realistic imagery to create an optical illusion of depth.  Here is an example by artist Nina Campin.

 

At first, we are tricked into seeing what the artist is imagining and we have to look with fresh eyes to see what is actually there.  What is in one view, a wall, transforms into passageway to another place.  What is solid becomes space that we can pass through.  It depends on how we look at it.

 

It snowed on Christmas Eve and so, on Christmas morning we decided to take our cross country skis to the forest where we have been walking since the first lockdown in March.  For months now, we have been cutting trees that have fallen across the trail so that skiing would be possible.  I have been working out possible trail loops in my imagination to take into account hills and energy levels.  We did not have any travel plans for Christmas day and so the snow looked like an invitation to us.  People who had plans to travel to their families might see the snow as a hindrance, a nuisance, something that blocked the way.  Hindrance or highway, the narrative depended on how we saw it.

 

Snow: a hinderance or a highway?

As we skied through the snow bedecked forest that honestly did look like a Christmas card, it occurred to me that what seems like a dead-end or a blocked passage in this COVID-19 world may in fact be imagined in a new way.  They say, that curiosity leads to dead cats.  They say that the word imaginary means not real.  Without curiosity and imagination, life does seem to be a collection of problems, dead ends and set backs.  You really can't get there from here! 

It takes the imagination of an artist to see the possible, the opportunity in what others don’t even see.  Creativity often begins with curiosity about something.  Exploring is driven by curiosity to understand how things work or don’t work.  An open, curious, exploring mind is then also open to new ways of seeing, new ways of doing, new ways of co-creating and new solutions.

I took this way of seeing to our Christmas dinner.  It would just be the two of us at the table this year although phone calls and zoom calls connected us with our children and grandchildren.  My mother who emigrated to Canada in the 1950’s felt that “Christmas is always about who is not there.”  Her rendition of this was one of our consistent Christmas traditions.  Needless to say, that as someone who was always there with her at Christmas, this grief did not make for a festive celebration. 

So, being determined not to focus on who was not there this Christmas with me, I created a new way of looking at the day.  We set up a long table that had plenty of space on it.  And we brought the pictures of our family members who are no longer living, set them up on the table and invited the ancestors to Christmas dinner.  There was plenty of space and no voices to drown them out.  In the peaceful candlelight we remembered how these people live on in our hearts and memories and are always present in the way that they shaped us, in the things that we learned from them and in the qualities that they passed down from our common ancestors.  Time became a circle that was large enough to include all of them.  Christmas was about who was present.  The empty table was transformed into a party that transcended our limited ways of seeing time and space.  Imagination opened up the imaginal realm where anything is possible and where everyone is present.  

And who is to say which one is “real”?  We create our own reality through our imagination and creativity.  We can choose to see this new year as a pathway leading the world to a new way of living that recognizes the contributions and gifts of all of life.  We can choose to see a blank wall or imagine nightmares as well.  

I wonder what we are capable of? I wonder what we can co-create together?  I am really curious about that.  I am imagining possibilities.  I am seeing pathways opening up.  I am seeing problems as opportunities to co-create new solutions.  I leave the pile of dead curious cats to others.  

Which leads me to a new opportunity.  Our neighbours’ cat has taken to sitting under our bird feeders.  The cat is a good hunter and has captured and killed some of our small wild neighbours.  Our human neighbours know about this cat-like trait but turn a blind eye.  It used to be that the squirrels ate all of the birdseed until we started giving them peanuts and their own feeding stations.  Then the squirrels became more like circus entertainers than villains.  So, we are brainstorming ideas at the moment to keep the cat away from the bird feeders.  We are bringing our curiosity, imaginations and creativity to this “problem”.  At the very least we will be strengthening our problem solving muscles and who knows what we will learn about cats on the way.  Will chicken wire repel them or become a jungle gym?  What trompe l’oeil will be needed to find a pathway in this case?  Don't worry.  You will be the first ones I tell the story to!

 

Just Another Winter Solstice?

 

The sun cut a small arc

Low in the southern sky

As it traversed the heavens

On this the Winter Solstice.

 

We have made it through

This year of challenge

To the shortest day

And the longest night.

 

Until now we turn

Towards the light as

The whole globe tilts

Both Towards and Away.

 

It is Summer Sostice

For my globemates

Who live and love in the

Southern Hemisphere

 

It is the longest day

And the shortest night

For those on the

Other side of our world

 

And so, our perceptions

Are opposite from each other

We could argue our viewpoints

And all of us would be right

 

But, here in the north

We move inside for warmth as

Fires and candles watch and

Warm us with their flame and light.

 

We gather together as

We are allowed on this day

In homes, on computers

And by outside fires.

 

And we tell our stories

Of these strange times.

We shake our heads

At the paradoxes.

 

An Aborigine Elder in Australia teaches

His worldview by drawing in the sand

Wiping it away and drawing once again

He teaches we in the north – on zoom.

 

He draws a circle for original wholeness

And a number one for one law

And a U to show the people understanding.

IOU he draws in the sand.

 

And we understand the symbols

And the play on an acronym

And his words and the sound

Of his didgeridoo – on zoom.

 

What would our ancestors

Make of that, I wonder.

Ancient sacred wisdom shared

Through time and space for us.

 

What magical stories are we telling?

What connections are we forging?

What solutions are we co-creating?

As we make the great turn together.

 

Just another Winter Solstice?

I think not.  Jupiter and Saturn

Think not.  They are aligned

In a Grand Conjunction, a double planet.

If the largest planets can come

Together, then so could we.

If the Condor and the Eagle can

Come together, then so could we.

 

And so, what will we intend

At this Grand coming together?

Open hearts?  Open minds?

Open hands?  Open ears?

 

And what will we give

At this Grand coming together?

Compassion?  Understanding?

Generosity? Patient listening?

 

It is up to each of us to play

The part we play in the whole.

It is up to all of us

To include all of us, everyone of us.

 

As we turn from destruction

To restoration

As we turn from death

To rebirth.

 

As we turn

As we turn

As we turn

As we turn together.

 

There is a Fire Burning

 

There are women in Ecuador,

In the heart of the Amazon,

Keeping a fire burning, 

At the heart of the Earth.

Firekeepers for the Condor, 

The Quetzal and the Eagle,

Indigenous women tending the fire,

Colectiva Awana global firekeepers.

 

Ancient Indigenous Wisdom is united,

Fulfilling the prophecies from long ago,

Meeting face to face, sharing ceremony,

Sharing hearts joined by the fire.

 

It is time, it is the time for unity.

It is time, it is the time for harmony.

It is time, it is the time for peace.

It is time, it is the time for healing.

 

We walk on this sacred land, our Mother,

Pachamama, Akikwe, Mother Earth.

We her children come together,

Our hearts burning like the fire.

 

I listen for my Ancestors’ voices.

They lost their way so long ago.

Perpetrating great harm, their fear and

Greed have brought this destruction.

 

Forgive us, they cry.  We had no idea

That it would come to this.

Please bring healing to this suffering,

Please bring balance and love.

 

Join with those that we wounded.

Make peace and we will be at peace.

Support their dreams, have their backs

Listen and learn from them.

 

We have your back, we support you.

It is your time now to bring this healing

And to bring our apologies.

Please say that we are sorry.

 

I come from thousands of years of

Bloodshed, domination and surrender.

Culture after culture wiped out, assimilated

Appropriated and yet some still remain.

 

The trees, the trees hold the knowledge.

My ancestors were their students.

Does this knowledge still live within me?

Can it be retrieved, called up?

 

Is Earth still speaking to me,

Daughter of those who forgot?

Can the colonizers stop and listen?

Can they be brought to stillness?

 

And learn to listen,

Listen to the Indigenous peoples,

Listen to the land, the trees,

Listen to all of life.

 

I listen for my Ancestors.

I remember the crimes.

I remember the wisdom.

And I hold out my hands.

 

My open hands offering,

My open hands ready,

My open hands receiving,

The work that is mine.

 

 

What if Time Wasn't the Enemy?

Lyla June Johnston

 

Lyla June Johnston is a young woman with a clear voice and message.  She is “an Indigenous environmental scientist, doctoral student, educator, community organizer and musician of Diné (Navajo), Tsétsêhéstâhese (Cheyenne) and European lineages from Taos, NM.: (https://www.lylajune.com/)

I recently read some of her writing in a repost on another website.  Her ideas intrigued me.  She writes:

"My people pay attention to the movement of the stars, the sun, the moon and the shadows to be in relationship with time. Time is not seen as dead, but as alive. One phase of night, for example, is known as Chahaałheeł (pronounced cha-haath-hyeth). But this time is not just a thing, it is a being. She is a woman. She is an elderly woman.

We know the night to be a time that heals a person. We notice that as we sleep, we awaken feeling better if we were sick the day before. We notice that the night cradles us and takes care of us like a grandmother. For this reason, many of our ceremonies occur all night, to be in relationship with the healing power of Chahaałheeł.

,,, It begs the question, what does it feel like to live in a society where time and space are not just relative, but they ARE relatives, beloved family members who care for us as their children?

...What does this feel like compared to a society where time and space are enemies or lifeless objects to be overcome? In a society where the night-time is a grandmother that loves you, you must go to sleep feeling very held. The cyclic phases of time aren't just alive... They actually like us. What more still...they love us, they have a conscious affinity for us.

In other words, a person of that kind of society will feel more beloved in general and less afraid. Even if the belief that certain times of day are benevolent beings was silly and untrue, the net effect on the society would be less fear and less anxiety. Doctors of late are finding important causal connections between stress, anxiety and adverse health effects. I have heard many Elders from cultures around the world say that fear is the root of imbalance and illness in a human society. It is our task to feel at home in creation, not afraid of creation, for our fears are what create space for imbalance to usurp this world. It is our task to trust in creation, not to fear creation, for our fears tend to create themselves within an otherwise wonderful world.”

After reading Johnston's words I found myself trying to image what she suggested.  What does it feel like to think of time and space are our loving relatives instead of the enemy?  What does it feel like to be surrounded by loving relatives?  It is how I feel when I am in the woods.  And indeed, this is what she had to say about that:  

"Many people wonder why you feel so good after taking a walk in the woods. We would say it is because you are surrounded by a family that is pure who loves you. We are surrounded in those times by Innumerable spirits who take the time to care for, heal and love us."

I will leave the last word to Lyla June Johnston so you can hear her voice and I invite you to ponder these questions for yourself.  What if we are surrounded by loving relatives who care, heal and love us?

What the Eyes Can't See

Anna’s vision was partially obscured by the black mosquito net that draped down from the brim of her hat.  It was late spring and the mosquitoes had made their buzzing presence known on her last visit to the forest.  Not wanting to miss her time in the forest community, she had found the perfect garment to make visiting possible.  Today, as she entered the woods and breathed out carbon dioxide, the tiny blood seeking females quickly found her.  Unknown to Anna, a couple of hundred mosquitoes flew in her wake like gulls flying behind a fishing vessel.  As the sunlight broke through the infrequent gaps in the leaves, their fragile winged bodies were lit up against the dark green background of the trees and shrubs.

The forest had exploded into a riot of greens that all seemed to blend into one another as she viewed them through the dark netting.  In the early spring she had stopped at each plant to examine it closely.  Now, the netting made it hard to see and the mosquitoes swarmed if she stopped and raised the screen.  But no matter.  The sun was shining and the sunlight became bright green as it passed through the young leaves.  Anna liked walking in this green light.  She didn’t know the science behind it, but it felt so nurturing to be bathed in the glow of chlorophyll. It felt good in her heart, like all the world was new and hopeful, caring and possible.

Birdsong easily passed through the net. Anna had no idea what the various songsters looked like, but she had come to recognize their songs from her daily visits.  Each song was so varied in pitch, rhythm and tune.  She mimicked the songs with her own voice, trying to learn them.  She tried putting words to the melody in order to lock them in her memory but the rich diversity made memorization difficult for her aging brain.  She gave up trying and just soaked in the magical serenade.  Sometimes the left brain just needed to take a back seat.

It had rained the night before and she breathed in deeply.  Scents as varied and rich as the birdsong passed over the threshold of her nose, into her nervous system.  She savoured each in-breath and imagined that this is how the world must be for dogs.  She imagined that each scent told a story.  Unlike the birdsong, it was hard to put words to these olfactory sensations.  Instead, they became colours.  The deep dark brown smell of wet humus and the green smell of vegetation danced in her nose.  Hints of floral smells, white and pink blinked in and out of her awareness.  Every now and then came her favourite, the resin of balsam poplar buds, pungent and medicinal smelling and always a flash of yellow-gold that brought a smile to her face.  She didn’t care that her vision was obscured as she saw the colours of the smells in her mind.  Such diversity and abundance of sensations was worth the sweat that was now running down her neck.

Suddenly, she heard a sound that she recognized -- the calls of Wild Turkeys somewhere in the bush.  Now that call told a story she knew.  When the trees were all cut down by the early settlers in the late 1800’s, the Wild Turkeys that lived in her area were hunted for food.  As their habitat, the forest, was destroyed, the turkeys could no longer survive and they disappeared from this land entirely by 1902.  They were gone for eighty-two years before people brought them back to the new forests that had been planted in the 1920’s and 30’s to repair the deforestation and desertification created by the early European settlers’ logging entreprises.  In 1984, provincial government workers had to trade for the Wild Turkeys that came from the US.  To ensure a good gene pool, they traded in various areas.  The province had traded 18 river otters, 120 Hungarian partridges, some Canada Geese and 50 moose for 274 Wild Turkeys thus collaborating with other animal restoration projects.  And then, by relocating small groups of turkeys, their territory and population was expanded.  The new forests were the keys to establishing the turkeys in her area.  Since the habitat for nesting and raising young had been re-established, these versatile birds did very well foraging for grain and hayseeds from farmers’ fields as well as forest food and now there were around 100,000 Wild Turkeys in the province.

Waking from her reverie, Anna realized that she had wandered onto a path that she had not taken before.  She looked around but didn’t recognize anything around her.  But something tiny and pink was swaying against the green backdrop of the trees.  Coming closer, she realized that there were quite a few of what turned out to be tiny tube-like pink flowers with bright yellow tips that hung from a long stem.  They looked like tiny shoes. The small leaves were bluish green and cut into rounded lobes.  She had never seen this plant before.  Another stem held up long pointed seed pods so she knew she was at the end of this flower’s cycle.  The flowers were enchanting and there were only a few of them.  The forest community had thousands of White Trilliums and yellow Trout Lilies, lots of Blue Cohosh’s tiny purple blooms, and some Foamflower, Starflower and False Solomon’s Seal which all had tiny white flowers.  The Red Maples had sent their red blossoms down to the ground already and the White Ash’s white flowers were finished.  Nowhere had she seen pink flowers in this forest so far.  She planned to consult her Wildflower guide once she returned to the house.  Sometimes, getting “lost” was a good thing.  These flowers were off of her usual route.  It was like the forest led her to them as her mind was otherwise occupied with thoughts of Wild Turkeys. 

Anna reasoned that if she went back in the direction that she had come from, she might see something she recognized.  Trying to stay alert and present to her surroundings, she scanned the forest floor on the side of the trail.  Much of it was covered by the low trailing evergreen vines of Partridge Berries.  Last year’s bright red berries were still clinging tightly to the plants which hadn’t flowered yet.  Anna knew that these berries and leaves were eaten by the Wild Turkeys, Ruffed Grouse and of course, Partridges.  She was happy that there were lots available for these birds. 

As if to punctuate her thought, she heard the low-pitched drumming of a male Grouse from somewhere nearby.  It sounded like an engine that was trying to start but fizzled out.  She knew he was taking part in this courting behaviour to attract female Grouse to his territory.  She could picture him beating his wings against a hollow log that he stood on and creating thumps which got faster and faster until only a brrrr sound could be heard.   She knew that these birds only live in deciduous forests and are thought to benefit from regenerating forests that have low shrubs.  The drumming brought the story of this regeneration and reproduction to her.

Anna had come to a place where the trail divided.  Neither path looked familiar.  Then the drumming of the Grouse erupted again.  Like a female Grouse, Anna decided to take the trail that led in the direction of the drummer.  Perhaps, the forest had something else to show her.  She kept her eyes on the sandy trail ahead of her for the most part and occasionally scanned the woods on either side.  Grouse were well camouflaged and hard to see.  Usually they were only visible if she scared one into flight.

The drumming came again, this time louder.  Smiling, Anna followed the trail, walking as quietly as she could.  She knew that Grouse were solitary birds and that the male had to work very hard to attract his mates.  He stayed in his own territory which he would defend while the females roamed around.  Any female Grouse would judge his worthiness as a mate by the food in his territory and by the display that he put on.  She could imagine him strutting around, tail feathers spread out and neck feathers expanded.  He knew his job and he did it well.  Find a good habitat, defend it, attract females, procreate and then eat as much as he could to fatten up for the winter. Anna wished it was so simple for humans who spent much of their lives trying to figure out who they were.  Ruffed Grouse knew who they were and they went about being Grouse.  Humans had made it very complicated.

Just then, Anna saw an unusual footprint in the sand of the trail ahead of her.  It looked like a small human footprint.  But instead of toes, it had five longer marks like claws.  The whole print was only about five inches long.  She lifted up the bug netting and squatted down to take a closer look.  There was only one animal that had a print like a human foot.  There must be a small black bear here in the forest.

Anna was always excited about what the forest had to show her but she did not want to meet a bear.  She had rehearsed in her mind many times what she would do if she did meet a bear.  She knew that looking big might help, that loud noises might help, that bear spray would definitely help and that running would definitely not help.  She always imagined that she would talk to the bear and tell it that she was not a threat.  She knew that she wasn’t on a black bear’s favourite food list.  She also remembered that making noise was the best way to alert a bear to your presence and then it would likely choose to avoid you. Just as the Grouse was using sound to attract a mate, she would use sound to repel a bear.

And so, Anna burst into song.  This would make sure that she didn’t see the Grouse.  That gift would have to wait for another day.  Anna sang to the trees a song she had learned from another woman.  “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful trees.  Beautiful oak, beautiful maple, beautiful, beautiful trees.”  She replaced the names of the trees with all the trees that she walked past.  And then she replaced trees with flowers, then birds, then plants.  It felt like the forest community liked being sung to.  Everything seemed a little brighter to her eyes.  The birds sang back to her, the trees waved their branches and leaves, the flowers swayed in the breeze and even the mosquitoes who were added to the beautiful insect section seemed like tiny stars as they orbited her head.

Anna had been so intent on singing and appreciating the forest community that she had not been paying attention, once again, to where she was as she followed the path.  And so, she was surprised when the trail ended at another trail that ran perpendicular to the one she was on.  Now she had to decide which way to turn.  She needed the edge of the forest near her home to attract her, like a Grouse drumming.

She turned onto the trail leading to the right and closed her eyes.  She called up the image in her mind of the road where she had started.  She could feel the energy from that picture sink and disappear.  Next, she turned to the left and closed her eyes.  Once again, she pictured her desired destination.  This time the energy built in her heart area and started to pulse.  “Okay,” she said, “left it is.”  And, she began to walk in that direction, still humming the Beautiful song.  After a few minutes, the trail ended at another perpendicular trail.  Anna looked to the right and then to the left.  And there down the trail to the left was something she recognized.  A tall, thin Maple sapling had fallen over and created an arch over the trail.  She knew where she was.  “Thank you,” she said as she laid down an offering. 

The wind was picking up and the leaves of the trees began to make their own music.  The birds added their songs, the female mosquitoes made their high-pitched whining and Anna sang along.  Deep in the forest, near the river, near where the Wild Ginger grew, a young bear stood on his hind legs and sniffed the air.  He could hear a sound but the wind came from his back and he couldn’t smell anything unusual or see any threats.  Satisfied, he snuffled and dropped onto all fours.  He picked up a familiar smell and ambled away in search of Wild Strawberries.