Tag Archives: catharsis

Eastbound and Back, Day 8: The Coast Cleared

2
Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Family, Historical, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 6, 2024, Calais, ME- At the roundabout, turning off towards Boothbay Harbor, I found myself waiting for a street sweeper in what was little more than a Bobcat, heading across the first exit and headed southbound, which I was also doing. Fortunately, he next turned right, towards the Post Office, and I was on track to be punctual.

I got to the rendezvous point that I thought was right-Dunkin’Donuts, on the south end of Wells. Turns out, there is another Dunkin’, more in the center of town. The still-recognizable figure from my childhood got my text and came to where I was, three minutes later.


The clouds that had hung on earlier started clearing, as we bantered for the next ninety minutes, giving a good many caffeinating residents of Wells and environs a bit more about growing up in Saugus, in the ’50s and ’60s than they may have ever anticipated. A Frenchman and an Italian get going on stuff from the past, and who knows what will be divulged. I may stop on the way back, and catch his piano magic.

Catharsis just happens, though both of us did our best to not give TMI. It was time to move on, around 11, which gave me just enough time to go up the coast towards Boothbay Harbor, where a cousin and his wife were waiting for our annual, or biennial, meeting. Stopping at Wilbur’s of Maine, for gift items, took five minutes and the minor wait for the street sweeper took another five. I was at their house at exactly 11 a.m. Why that is suddenly so important, as I write this, is a mystery. Maybe I am just compensating for some time in the distant past, when I let people down, due to dawdling. At any rate, it didn’t matter at all to my hosts. Our conversation, over lunch, was centered on our Irish paternal great-grandmother’s proactivity, in purchasing what would become the Boivin family home, for over 100 years. So many gatherings took place, in the three storeys of that house, in the backyard, up the street at another aunt & uncle’s house and two blocks north, at another uncle & aunt’s house. Then, there were the pool tournaments, at Frank’s Bar & Grill, across the main street from Perley.

I left the cousins behind, with a promise to return, later this month. The sky was alternately foggy (inland) and clear (along the coast). I found relatively scant traffic, which was not surprising as it’s still fairly early in May. Many cabins and seasonal restaurants are still closed, awaiting Memorial Day. It also being a Monday, several others were taking their weekly day off. Joe’s Diner, just shy of the Canadian border, was open, for a modest plate of spaghetti, and a generous helping of meatballs. International Motel, a riverside establishment, has provided me with another comfortable place for a fine night’s rest.

Tomorrow will see a return visit to the Gallant family’s North American entry point: Shediac, NB. It was there that my paternal grandmother’s father’s forebears brought their roofing skills to bear among the Basque and Breton fisherfolk of 17th Century New Brunswick.

Regina

2
Posted by on in Community, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

September 8, 2022- She passed, as she had lived-Stoically, without the pain that some blinkered souls had wished upon her and mindful of the overarching love that many, even in nations that are rivals to her own, felt towards her in life.

I was never much for the idea of colonialism-or paternalism, for that matter. That there are still countries which are “owned” by others, including the territories of the United States, seems quaint, in an insipid way. That there was ever a legal system that permitted one ethnicity to subject another to legal chattelhood, or to a second class status, seems sinister at the least, and pure evil at worst.

Some fuss has been raised at the fact that a 22-year-old Elizabeth Windsor visited Cape Town, at the inception of apartheid, and did not send thunderbolts down on its initiators. She was probably kept from the decision-making process, but no matter. A ceremonial royal can occasionally mount a bully pulpit, but not often. Her influence in most issues was far more sublime, delivered with a sly remark or a piercing look.

To most, Queen Elizabeth II’s life, and its end, have been occasions for catharsis-either love for how she conducted herself on the world stage, or vitriol for the way Britain treated some of its colonies, prior to the decolonization of the mid- Twentieth Century. She herself struck me as a benign presence, who nonetheless rose to greet her challengers and critics with the same stoic mien that she employed with well-wishers. She was also capable of listening to her Prime Ministers and Cabinet Secretaries, and of advancing with the times. How many nonagenarians keep a Twitter account or a YouTube channel?

When Donald Trump, on an official visit, walked ahead of her, the Queen just shook her head and kept walking at her own pace. She knew that certain people would just do as they’ve always done, and would have to reap the consequences of their actions, regardless of input from anyone else.

In seven decades, Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor, “Her Majesty” to most, and Elizabeth, to a select few, kept her nation’s image far more cogent and vital than a lesser personage might have. There may not be another like her, for a good many years.

Rest in Peace, Your Majesty.

Echoes of Amy Winehouse

0
Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Entertainment, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

February 12, 2022- The songbird’s voice was reminiscent of Amy Winehouses’s. If I had wandered into the room with my eyes closed and had been living under a rock, for the past eleven years, I’d have sworn Amy was in the room. As it was, the gentle, forthright soul who was belting out tunes, over the cacophony of eclectic instruments, including her own beatbox, bore a slight physical resemblance to the late, long-suffering British master of R&B. The two other women in the room, each a talented musician in her own right, just stood and watched in awe. The rest of us, men of varying ages, were equally cognizant and appreciative of her presence, even as we were focused on our own instruments and as three of the younger among us were increasingly engaged in an improvisational spoken word trialogue, the decibel level of which was rising by the second-yet did not cancel out one word of Shawna’s powerful delivery.

For my part, I was more or less ephemeral, by choice. It had been a long while since I had sat in with the group, and many of the members were new. Shawna and her mate were the only ones I recall from last year. The others, true to the spirit of the establishment, were politely cordial, but a step short of welcoming. This is a loosely closed circle, which lets people in momentarily, and only gradually over time will accept the unfamiliar. Each member seemed to select one or two others, with whom they would interact. The rest were ignored. I was just glad that the hostility, encountered on my last visit, had gone away.

Shawna and her partner, who declined to introduce himself, once again, were otherwise gracious and accepting of all in the group. The hosts, keeping to the front of the house, eyed everyone a bit warily, understandable, given the noise level at times, but were cordial enough, as we entered and left. I’m actually glad that they abided the scene-no one was destructive, or particularly vulgar in their speech. Nine young men showed the utmost respect for the lone woman singing and playing several instruments, in their midst, as did I-the only elder in the room. May it never be otherwise.

It was, despite the reticence of its members, a fine evening of music and catharsis. It also gave me the realization that I need to bring my drum with me, on the rest of my forays. In that sense, this was the first step on a journey of a thousand miles.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 28: Four Roads

6
Posted by on in collaborating, Community, impediments, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

June 28, 2020-

I listened to a couple of Bluegrass bands, this afternoon, as well. One of them was comprised of three little girls, who sang cheerfully and intensely. Listening to them move seamlessly through a nearly one-hour set, I had only one thought: Long may they know only peace and safety.

Yesterday, at the same time of day, I was participating in a wrap-up of a Unity Week Conference, online. We collectively traversed four socioemotional roads: Via Positiva; Via Negativa; Via Creativa; and Via Tranformativa.

The first, as the name indicates, was an acknowledgment and celebration of all in one’s life that is positive. We sang, swayed and shared happy sounds. The second, opposite to the first, was an acknowledgement of all that is negative in one’s life. People laid on the floor, wherever they were, and were given permission for catharsis. Many moaned, cried aloud, screamed and wailed. I was glad the neighbours were not coming to the window to check on me. Having had an emotional release, after watching a gut-wrenching video on the reality of the Confederacy, on Friday afternoon, I was pretty much catharsized out for this one. It was good for those who have been through extreme trauma.

When we came back together, it was to acknowledge the pain, as a group. We then proceeded on Via Creativa, and tapped into the inner talents and creative energies of each of us. Finally, we gathered in small groups, discussing, very briefly, the possible transformations we might bring to bear, from this conference and into the work that will lead to Peace Weekend (September 20-21). This longer road is Via Transformativa.

I had thought that July and August might be quiet months of toeing the line of those loud voices demanding that everyone stay in their homes. Upon reflection, though, avoiding criticism from the Left, or from the Right-for that matter, is not what is going to bring peace to this world. I have to leave Home Base, if necessary, to do Red Cross work, to help plan this event in September and if need be to go to the sides of those who are suffering.

The key to overcoming COVID19 lies not in timidity, nor in maintaining the appearance of ideological purity (a chimera, at minimum). It lies in being sensible about precautions (masks, yes, but mainly hand washing and being aware of one’s surroundings) and in obeying actual laws-not loudly expressed opinions.