Rain. The Sunworks' building is not holding up well and we really need some roof work. The leaking is becoming more serious and I believe that this will be a really wet summer. In the region the ground is already saturated and water is pooling. This is not that common for Alberta. I suspect that another week or two of this will cause the rivers to swell and flooding to occur in Red Deer and downstream in Saskatchewan.
Terry spent most of the day mopping up water in our own basement that came up through the sump hole. Since he landscaped around our sunroom addition, the basement hasn't had water problems. This is likely the first entry of many this summer that will
be related to the weather and global warming. It is finally spring in
Alberta.
The rain and wet snow is coming down hard. It steadily taps against the windows of the
sunroom. We have a fire burning and are drinking hot tea. The cats lie
in various positions of repose. It's during times like these that my mind
connects to memories most easily.
Tonight, I remember when I was 10 years old or thereabouts, my Dad and I would sit in the conservatory that he built. It was attached to the back of our small bungalow in east Calgary. When my parents bought the house for $24,000 they talked about my brothers and I not being able to afford a place of our own if prices continued to climb as they were. Behind the house were acres of farm land as far as you could see. Calgary had started to grow. Years later I began to understand that this consuming of farm land is the most unhealthy approach to community that cities would ever undertake. Flying into Calgary now is like diving into a giant scar on earth. At some point I want to explore the lost connections between people and the silencing of collective voice that has resulted from suburban sprawl. That's for another day. Perhaps next week at the Community Foundations of Canada conference.
For now, our suburban home is one of my fondness memories of my Dad. We never understood each other as I grew up and even in my early adult years. It is only recently that we are beginning to understand one another. I've been reminded recently by a friend to cherish my parents while they are still alive.
Then we would build a fire in the wood building stove, leave the doors open, and listen to classical music on a small transistor radio. On the most interesting nights the rain beat on the corrugated fibre glass roof. He would encourage me to imagine what scene was unfolding as we listened. Then I wasn't very good at imagining, but one thing I learned was that our senses are connected. (Much later I would learn that as many as 1 of 23 people have brains that are wired in such as way that two or more of their senses are connected. The condition is called synesthesia. Numbers may be perceived as inherently coloured. Time may be perceived a spacial, perhaps with older times appearing farther away visually. The characteristic is quite fascinated. Days of the week might have personalities. Some people have extreme sensory interconnections that cause them to be able to perform remarkable mathematical calculations.)
It was early on that I learned that music could be full of personality, colour, and space. The important thing for me, whether or not I have any characteristics of synesthesia, was to learn that everything in the world is connected in some way. Music is connected to mood. Mood is connected to colour. Colour is connected to personality. I am connected to my Dad.
The other important journey I began to take then was to create images in my mind. As an adult, my work with every group of has been full of imagery that has helped the group to understand the complex nature of a problem or the beauty of a possibility. It is compelling to me tonight that as I write about the sound of the rain that I would be drawn back to a time in my life when I first started to imagine, and that tomorrow I join a group of envisioners in Canada to learn a series of skills to help myself, and community, create a better future.
So I sit here in the sunroom of my own house, I listen to the rain beat upon the skylights, and I become connected to that wonderful time when my Dad and I sat together and experienced life. I continue to imagine the interesting times ahead. Today's experience reinforces my belief that the the past and present and future are intimately connected, just as people are connected. Ideas and visions are connected. In fact I can feel it, see its colour and hear its sound. It is good.
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