Things I have learned from a Bicycle seat

In my many years of cycling, I have seen a lot; from amazing cloud formations and sunsets, to animal behaviour I would have missed if I had been driving a car at a high rate of speed. I have also seen a more unpleasant side of human behaviour. People throw a lot of garbage from their cars. McDonald’s wrappers, Tim Horton cups, bottles, Kleenex, bags of clothing, clothing not in bags, used Pampers, used condoms, and much more. Sometimes they step out of the car to relieve themselves, which is a very good reason to stay ON the pavement.

I’ve learned a great deal too! Cycling can often be a metaphor for life itself. For example, the faster one goes, the harder one hits the bumps and the more those bumps hurt.

Following are a few more examples of the things I’ve learned from my bicycle seat:

Summer is exceptionally short.

So it seems is my memory. I don’t remember my butt hurting so much last year, but I’m riding the same bike on the same saddle.

There is no such thing as a “quick” ride. One can take a short ride of less than an hour, but I have yet to see my average speed surpass twenty-three kilometres per hour. From a bicycle seat, no matter how quickly one tries to go, it is always possible to smell the roses…. And Daisies, sweetgrass, spruce trees (pine and cedar too in most places except here) as well as freshly cut lawns, (my personal favourite) and for the most part, what people are having for their next meal!

While I don’t consider myself an accomplished rider, and often feel like I’m going to, as my friend said, “barf and cry,” I frequently hear people say. “I couldn’t do that.” I always tell them they could, with the “If I can do it, anyone can” reasoning. It’s astounding how many excuses they can come up with no matter how many I refute.

It amazes me how many people have dogs! On one ride recently, there were several dogs barking on both sides of the road simultaneously. Even the SPCA truck barked as it passed.

Atlantic Canada has its problems, but it doesn’t lack for natural beauty, or great places to ride. This time of year, the birds, butterflies, and flowers along the roadside are beautiful to behold, and in the case of the birds, listen to as well.

No matter how much I have to do at home, it will always be there when I finish my ride. Strangely, I frequently get more done when I ride than when I make excuses to not ride.

The temptation to explore is higher while cycling. It could be that we see the trails and roadways better at slower speeds and decide to see where they lead. I’ve noticed that as I travel slower, I have less need for speed and my urgency to get somewhere is less.

Even in consistency, there is change. The trees grow a little taller each year, the edge of the pavement chips away a little more, or is replaced, the flora goes through cycles and some species are replaced by others. People move out of houses and others move in. Houses are renovated, painted, siding gets added or replaced. In some cases, buildings burn down or are torn down. The landscape undergoes changes, gradually becoming something different.


Cyclists are friendly people. Maybe it’s due to our relatively low numbers or a shared activity , but when cyclists encounter other cyclists, there is most often a friendly smile and cheerful greeting. Perhaps it’s because we simply feel good out there and want to share our happiness. Cyclists are also less prone to road rage. It’s hard to be aggressive when rapid acceleration is impossible! Motorists, for the most part are not as friendly with each other. Mostly it’s a detached apathy that gets displayed, but aggressive behaviour is also frequent.

Finally, my bicycle is my friend and at times, my psychiatrist. She is my stress-buster, my confidant, and transportation. One does not need to be Lance Armstrong in order to ride a bike. One does not even need to spend a lot of money on lycra and a racing bike. One needs only to be comfortable in the clothes and on the bike one already has. Just get on your bike and go! It is always possible to improve your skills if it is something you want to get more serious about.

Still Wandering…

Remembering Louise White

Louise White was a very diminutive person with a stratospheric personality.


I first met Louise in 1992 when I was looking for a store that sold good quality vitamin supplements in Sydney NS. A man I knew at that time told me of a woman who had just opened a new health food store on a quiet side street and so I went to meet this woman and do some shopping.


I walked through the door and was greeted by a tiny little woman with dark brown eyes and hair. Her greeting of “Hi!” in a lilting, almost sung manner was one I’d become very familiar with in the next twenty years. I spent some time looking over her stock, and then made my purchase and left. I returned many times to buy vitamins and also began picking up on the “snack” foods she sold as well; trail mixes, energy bars, healthy alternatives to the high-sugared varieties which are sold in grocery and convenience stores. I brought friends who also became regular customers.


As with any relationship, the more I shopped there, the better I got to know Louise and her two equally tiny employees,one of whom was her daughter. I began to realize these three ladies were no mere vendors of vitamins and other healthy trade goods. They were committed to making and keeping people healthy! In less than a year I had met several people whose Mantra seemed to be “Louise White made me well again.” And so began a healing process for many people, myself included.


Because of the personalities involved, this little store, called “Nana’s Natural Foods” became very popular. I found it necessary to set aside a good hour or more for shopping there because of the sheer volume of people who came and went. Invariably, there would be someone there who I knew when I arrived, and before I left, there would be other friends coming and going. If there was a specific health issue, from upset stomach to sore muscles, Louise had a remedy. The income from the store allowed her to travel to the U.S. to study other methods of healing from such well known people as Hanna Kroeger among others. Upon graduating from University, her son came home and operated the store so Louise could advance her knowledge.


As time passed, Louise was away more frequently, but resuming her place in the store’s activities upon returning. She seemed indefatigable; teaching nutrition classes, herbal remedies, often reminding her students of the connection between body, mind and spirit. Her wealth of knowledge grew as she learned and then began teaching Reiki, Therapeutic Touch, Hanna Kroeger’s techniques and more. To many of us, it seemed Louise was learning just what we needed to know just before we needed it! She seemed to be two steps ahead all the time! When other retailers began selling nutritious, healthy products, Louise switched her focus completely to counselling and healing.


Always a devout Christian and Catholic, Louise peppered everything she did with Prayer and Meditation. As her business grew, so did her faith, and with that, journeys to other places to study. Returning to Sydney, Louise would share her new knowledge and experiences with her growing list of friends, students, and colleagues. When her husband took a job in California, she saw it not as a problem, but as an opportunity. She would visit him frequently and take workshops or attend seminars in such locations as Boulder Colorado or Sedona Arizona. She was able to attend lectures by her favourite speakers and always… ALL WAYS, she would share the experience with us.


In the early years of the new millennium, Louise and one of her friends both noticed a profusion of “runs” designed to raise money to find cures for diseases; cancer, MS, diabetes, etc, and both independently had an idea to host a run for awareness… Awareness that these diseases and illnesses could be avoided altogether through healthy eating and lifestyle. In 2004 the Run For Awareness was born. Through a series of classes focused on organic, vegan diet, exercise and healthy Spiritual attitude, they brought knowledge to the public. Most evenings, the classes were sold beyond capacity! Throughout it all, Louise was like the energiser bunny, and if she wasn’t setting up the venue, she was out collecting donations, making decorations, recruiting professional chefs to conduct cooking classes, or hosting meetings to delegate to the growing army of volunteers, all the while running a business of Healing others, teaching Reiki, Hanna Kroeger, and the many other activities her life entailed. In the limited time she was at home, she enjoyed her family which now included her three grandchildren.


I had studied Reiki in 1999, receiving Level 1, and had felt at that time as if that may be as far as I would go with it. Circumstances led to me deciding in 2006 to move on to Level 2. My first choice for a teacher was Louise. Her love and compassion were most evident in her eyes when the time came for my attunement. I was both overjoyed and humbled when I stood and received a silent embrace by this Powerful yet miniscule woman. She encouraged me to move on to Master level within a year. I still get very emotional when I remember that weekend.


Sometime shortly after I received my Master Reiki level from Louise, she mentioned a lump in her breast. She was so offhand in mentioning it that I didn’t give it much thought. It was not until last year that someone else told me that the cancer had advanced to the point where it was problematic. In her usual style however, Louise never complained, always said life was great and always gave of herself to others. On Tuesday, April 24, 2012, Louise finally reached the end of what she could give, and finally gave herself to her God and joined her parents and brother.


There were hundreds of people at the wake and funeral. Louise's closest friends and students formed a sort of honour guard in the church vestibule, and at her son’s house after the service, fond memories were recounted by all in attendance. Her family rose above their grief to tell us how proud they were of her accomplishments, confident her legacy would live on strongly through her students and the students of her students. All who were helped in some way by Louise have much to be grateful for, and the many of us who know each other today because we met through Louise comprise a network of Healers, educators, and facilitators unimaginable to anyone who hasn’t experienced Louise’s loving work. Louise was my Teacher and Mentor, but most of all, she was my Friend.


She will be missed by countless hundreds. We love you Louise!


~Still Wandering...

The Return of Summer and Wandering again

It has been considerable time since my last post. There were many contributing factors to me being silent, and some of them personal, so I don’t really feel inclined to discuss the whys of my absence, but to bring you back up to date on what has been happening during that time.

To start with, my drumset and I have been relatively busy with Bad Habits. Not as busy as I’d prefer, but probably as busy as my damaged body can handle. (more on that later)

I was elected Registrar of Velo Cape Breton by acclamation at the last annual general meeting in November, but had to relinquish the position in January when it became clear to me that I had to much uncertainty to deal with and I felt I could not give the position the full attention it deserves. Paul Babin was recruited to replace me and he is doing a terrific job! Thank you Paul. Also, on the topic of Velo Cape Breton, I applied to serve and was accepted as an Ambassador as part of a new initiative by the Association. The Velo Cape Breton Ambassador Program came about as the result of a sum of money awarded by Doctors Nova Scotia known as the “Golden Apple Award.” Since cycling promotes a healthy, active lifestyle, DNS felt the mandate of VCB fell within the criterion of this award and our Ambassador program was born. The purpose of the Ambassadors, in part, is to promote safe, responsible cycling as a part of an active lifestyle; to teach other cyclists how to ride safely and responsibly; to assist visiting cyclists in finding accommodations, restaurants, repair shops and good places to ride; and to raise public awareness of cycling through public appearances and advocacy. The official launch date will probably be the Victoria Day weekend, but don’t be surprised if you see our distinctive jerseys and jackets on the road now.

Sticking with the cycling theme a bit longer, I am once again proud and honoured to be organizing the Ride of Silence for Cape Breton Island. This event is one of International stature, occurring in hundreds of locations in several countries world-wide. This year is the third for Cape Breton and this year we are riding in Glace Bay, on some streets that are sometimes challenging for cyclists. The purpose of the ride is again, to raise the awareness of the general public of cyclists and our right to use the road, but primarily to pay tribute to riders who have been killed or injured in collisions with motor vehicles. If you are a cyclist, and believe in this cause, please join us! There is no registration fee, no prizes and no sponsors. All that is required is a bicycle in good working order and a helmet.

I have been slowly upgrading and remodelling my drumset. I had thought last year that having a smaller Bass Drum would not only be a novel idea, but would take up less room in the Jeep and onstage. I converted a sixteen by sixteen inch Floor Tom using first a Danmar cradle and then a set of legs and a lifting device. I found that although it took less space in the Jeep, it didn’t really save that much onstage since its depth is the same as the larger Bass Drum, and my cymbal stands are still positioned in the same places as they always are. There were some other issues that arose as well, and so to simplify my life, I abandoned that idea, and went back to the larger diameter BD. A new carrying bag for my hardware changed the layout in the Jeep, and I suddenly find myself with a bit more room; or shall I say a re-definition of the room that is there. I might be able to actually add to my kit, but first I must decide if the set-up/tear-down time will increase any by doing so. After all, I am somewhat enjoying the shorter timeframes needed to set up and tear down lately. What once took over an hour to do, can now be done in about half an hour, and I love that! If adding a piece to the kit will still allow the time to remain within a minute of what it now is, I will consider it.

Certainly a factor is my body. I damaged a disc in my back in October of 2010, and after sitting at the kit for a night of playing, the pain is sometimes excruciating. I never seem to be totally pain-free these days, even when my activity level doesn’t add to that pain. Actually, activity is good for such situations, but due to circumstances beyond my control, (those same circumstances that have prevented me from writing for the last four months) I did not get the exercise I needed all winter and the subsequent results have made life quite uncomfortable as well as busy. I only got out snowshoeing once this winter and that is a sad statement to make.

I had been teaching Tai Chi for a number of months, but that too has come to an end. This time last year I was teaching two classes a week for the Pain Clinic at the hospital. I had been contacted to teach sufferers of chronic pain, mostly victims of car accidents and people with degenerative conditions such as arthritis. The classes led me to seek a place where I could continue their classes so they would be able to benefit from Tai Chi on a long term basis. Sadly, after the second week, I was teaching only two or three of the people I had taught a number of years ago and none of the pain patients. Promotional efforts went without results and so I made the decision to stop teaching

Finally, through it all, there has been gain and loss, Joy and Sorrow, and more than a little confusion and introspection. I continue to re-connect with people I knew years ago through Facebook and Twitter, and occasionally in person. While I seem to value my “alone” time, I also relish the time I spend with friends. An hour in a coffee shop, or hanging out together when the band is on a break, is special to me and I truly value it. I am finding that many appreciate my friendship as well, although my insecurities have me wondering why. I do know that as we age, and start to witness the loss of loved ones and heroes, we value our own lives all the more. The recent passing of one of my drumming heroes, Levon Helm of The Band has made me angrier and more cynical about the purpose of life. Why are we here? What is it all about? What good does it do? I have these thoughts sometimes daily, and yet, when a friend of mine looses a loved one, as has happened several times this winter, my heart cries for their pain, and I understand in part that we are here to share, and to comfort and to feel compassion.

~Still Wandering…

The Other Senses

There has been much talk over the years of “the Sixth Sense.” In my past few blog entries (five, to be exact) I explored the five recognised senses known to Man and the Scientific community. However, the existence of the sixth sense is both contentious and compelling.

As a drummer, I have long been familiar and comfortable with the science of numbers; small numbers at least. Scientists have been able to explain weather patterns for generations, and how the moon’s gravity has an effect on our earthly tides, but when it comes to a sixth sense, science backs away, denies its existence, and then tries to justify the bad weather we got when fair weather was predicted. The trouble with science is, they are controlled by popular opinion and government funding.

The “sixth” sense is a slight misnomer at best. It is a blanket statement to describe a number of phenomena; from seeing ghostly apparitions, to “knowing” when one is not alone in a building or room, to “knowing” what the winning numbers will be in a lottery draw.

When my father was in the final stages of lung cancer, my older half-sister woke suddenly one night, (not a common occurrence I understand) to see what she described as our father standing at the foot of her bed, looking at her in a way she described as “longingly.” He said nothing, but just “stood” there, looking at her. When my mother called her the next day, she was not surprised. Mom had called to tell my sister she should come home immediately because it was doubtful Dad would live much longer. My sister came home, spent some time with Dad, and then went back to her husband and children in Ontario. Dad died about three weeks later.

Science would dismiss that as coincidence, yet if scientists were to be as totally analytical and dismissive as they try to appear, they would not even believe in coincidence, since that cannot be quantified either.

A little more than a year after Dad’s death, I was doing some cleaning up in the yard of the house I was renting, and noticed the clouds moving in the sky across the valley. As I watched, I saw the clouds come together and create a formation that resembled Dad’s face. Then the clouds moved slightly, and Dad smiled. Coincidence? Or communication from the other side? Some, perhaps most, reading this will opt to say coincidence, but in my heart I believe Dad came by to say hello.
While on tour in my musical career, I have often been in towns and cities that are unfamiliar to me. Sometimes, I would walk to unwind, and occasionally I would find myself in a neighbourhood that `felt` uncomfortable. Later, someone who lived in that town or city would verify I had been in area where many acts of crime had been committed. There was no way I could tell that these neighbourhoods were questionable, yet something made me sense it was not a good place to be. A sixth sense?

In the same vein, there have been numerous recorded incidents where others, (as well as myself) have left a place, only to have something unpleasant occur shortly thereafter. “I got out just in time.” When asked why they left when they did, that answer can nearly always be paraphrased, “I don’t know, I just felt uncomfortable.” Is this a sixth sense at work?

Many people claim to be able to see into the future; they go by names such as Clairvoyants, psychics, Mediums… they also can see the spirits of the departed, or communicate with them. Often these are carnival attractions or back alley novelties, but there are also many documented cases that are legitimate. The late magician and escape artist Harry Houdini often tried to communicate with his dead mother, finally taking the stance that the Spiritualists were frauds and set about debunking them. After his passing, his wife Bess attempted to contact his spirit with varying, yet unsatisfactory results. Perhaps the most famous and successful Spiritualist to have lived to date is H.P. Blavatsky.

Quantum science tells us that nothing exists until we believe it. Can the spirits of the deceased communicate with the living? Can mortal humans see and predict the future? Can we know when things are about to go wrong? What do you think?

I think anything is possible if we open our minds to the possibilities.

~Still Wandering…

The Art of Touching.

Our sense of touch is a magnificent thing indeed. With it, we can tell the difference between hot and cold, sharp and dull, hard and soft; a myriad of textures.

A tradesman can identify objects simply by touch. A musician or painter often talks about the touch on the instrument or of brush on canvas. A touch can reassure; or cause injury. To a blind person, touch is everything. One phone company even coined the slogan, “Reach out and touch someone.”

Watch a baby. To an infant, learning about the world is an experience of touching; when a child encounters a new object or being, the first impression is to touch it. Children soon learn that fingers and toes operate quite differently, and while it is possible to curl one’s toes around an object and lift it, fingers work much better.

As we grow, we learn the joys of touching favoured objects; that special toy we treasure, the softness of a warm sweater, stroking a cat or dog during quiet moments. Sometimes, the same type of touch can have different meanings. A playful slap on the shoulder is quite different than an angry slap on the face.

I remember when my father passed away, after the funeral, everyone went back to our house for tea, coffee, and sandwiches. A friend of the family came to me to express her condolences. As she talked, she nonchalantly touched my arm, conveying sympathy, and friendship. It was a gesture that brought great comfort to me at a time of immense sorrow.

Throughout the years, our senses decline, yet for most of us, the sense of touch remains not only intact, but integral. Some of us however lose some of our sense of touch as well. Those of us who have used our hands extensively suffer nerve damage, reducing our ability to feel things the way we used to. Mechanics may not have the dexterity they once had. Those who sew, seamstresses and tailors, lose sensation in the tips of their fingers from repeated needle punctures. Arthritis, carpal tunnel syndrome, bursitis, tendinitis, and many other afflictions reduce one’s ability to use one’s hands and fingers as in the past. Yet those awkward, injured, impaired hands can still offer compassion, support, love and hope to someone in need.

Go ahead, reach out; reach out and touch someone.

~Still Wandering…

Do You Hear What I Hear?

[My advance apologies for the length of this entry]

I cannot remember a time when music wasn’t the biggest and sweetest part of my life. Dad was a guitarist and singer who had spent some time with an early incarnation of Don Messer’s orchestra. He always had the radio on, in the house and in the car. Mom too enjoyed the music from the radio, and could often be heard singing along. The only radio station I heard for years was CFNB in Fredericton New Brunswick, the city closest to where I lived. CFNB broadcast with fifty thousand watts of power, so the signal was always strong. They played a wide variety of music from Pop to Country, Big Band to Polka, religious programming and news… Everything was covered.

In the early to mid 1960s music became more tangible; some students of our school had formed a small band and would perform every Friday at lunch time in the auditorium. The rest of the students would dance, or “cruise” around the perimeter of the room while the hits of the day issued forth from the drums and amps on the stage. It was the drums to which I was most attracted. The drummer, Reg Sansom, was kind enough to share his knowledge, and it was during this time that I began to lose interest in many other things. My drumming career was being born unbeknownst to me.

When the Beatles came to North America and appeared on the Ed Sullivan show, followed by the other Rock ‘n’ Roll acts of the day; The Rolling Stones, The Hollies, Johnny Rivers , etc I was glued to our television set. I watched every act I could see. Our school’s student council brought bands in regularly to play for Friday night dances, which ran from 9:00 – 12:00. I got to see many drummers during my school days and several of them became friends and, like Reg, were generous with their knowledge.

When I began playing in public, all thoughts of having any other occupation quickly faded. I was completely enthralled with drumming and soaked up anything I could learn like a sponge. In my early twenties, I had the opportunity to study from a professional teacher. He moved away before I could learn much and the little bit of knowledge he had imparted only served to make me want more and resulted in frustration. It would be a few years until the opportunity again arose to study. Eventually I managed to learn to read music well enough to teach myself through books available at music stores. A subscription to Modern Drummer magazine proved to be an invaluable resource as well.

As time passed, I began using the knowledge I’d acquired to teach others. It was in this capacity that I met a young Mi’Kmaq chap who was related to the Drum Keeper for one of the Traditional Drum groups in our area. A few short years later, I was invited to co-produce a CD of this Drum group’s music. When the CD was released, I was asked to join the group.

It was a short step from drumming at Pow - Wows to drumming at Healing Ceremonies. I learned the Sacred Healing Songs and participated in many Healings.

At that same time, I was introduced to the works of Peter Kater and R. Carlos Nakai via the soundtrack for the TV mini-Series “How the West Was Lost.” I began exploring other “New Age” music and the healing properties of music, both rhythmic and ambient. I delved into the writings of Mickey Hart and Joseph Campbell. The route began to branch off into religions, philosophies and much more. As I began to explore these avenues, I discovered the Tibetan Singing Bowls and Buddhist Tingshas and Meditation Bells. Music from Stephen Halpern, Hennie Bekker, Suzanne Ciani, Constance Demby, Steve Roach, Paul Winter and so many more was constantly in my CD player. Then Dr Andrew Weil weighed in on the subject along with Kimba Arem. They described how all life is vibration, and sound, as vibration, can disrupt or re-align our body’s natural vibratory patterns. Of course, I realized this to be true as soon as I heard it spoken, and realized also that everything we hear has an effect on us and the way we feel. Realizing the need for personal Healing and Transformation, I began to use music in my Meditation; soothing, relaxing, re-vitalizing sounds to realign my vibrations.

As my explorations continued, I discovered the music of Deva Premal, Snatam Kaur and Jai Uttal.

Sound can also have negative effects. After the end of World War Two, many people in Britain displayed adverse reactions to hearing a siren. The sounds of Industry can cause nervousness, tension and anxiety. I believe that some music, such as Gangsta Rap can incite violence, and of course, there is the “Brown Note;” the infamous note discovered by the Moody Blues that when slowed down, oscillated, and reversed, can cause one’s bowels to move. They wisely have not revealed what note that is, or by what degree it is slowed or oscillated.

When we examine sound and how it affects our minds, emotions and bodies, we must then examine our very words and the effects their vibrations have upon us. Even in joking, many phrases can be harmful. Choosing our words carefully can be a wise move, but many of us are too busy talking to actually think of the effect of what we say.

We all know the effect of sound in movies; it creates tension, pathos, joy, or longing, to enhance the mood of the scene on the screen. This is all very intentional, and in many cases, the soundtrack is available on CD. Many soundtrack CDs are as successful as the movie from which they come.

Besides music, the sounds I prefer to hear are the sounds of the natural world; birds singing, bees, water (especially rivers flowing) and the other sounds that occur naturally and are not man-made.

My many years as a drumset player have taken their toll as well; tinnitus developed and steadily grew to where conversations are difficult at times, awkward on a regular basis. I hear sounds, but not always distinct words; the frequencies muffled and compressed. I recently drove away from a drive—through due to the frustration of not being able to distinguish the words spoken by the store employee.

Whether sound is important in your life or not; whether you are soothed, aroused, frightened, or reverent, sound will have an effect, either directly or subliminally. Take some time and examine how various sounds affect you. Go for a walk in nature and listen, really listen, to the birds as they call to one another. Do you hear silence as they become aware of your presence, or do they realize you pose no threat? Observe the sounds the trees make as the breezes pass through the leaves or needles. Can you distinguish one tree from another by sound alone? There are differences, you know.

Listen closely to the sounds of the voices you hear. Are they coloured with anger, fear, or frustration? How does the sound of a loved one’s voice differ from a casual acquaintance? Do you recognise the calming effect of the voice of someone like Thich Naht Hanh or the Dalai Lama?

No matter what you are hearing, I hope you find Joy and Happiness within.

~Still Wandering…

Here's Looking at You!

I began to develop myopia when I was about eleven years old. It happened so suddenly, my father thought I was making it up, but after some of my teachers brought it to his attention that I wasn’t seeing the assignments on the chalkboard so well, he decided to take me to the Optometrist.

It was determined that I would need glasses, and even though my vision had deteriorated drastically in less than a year, there was no need for concern. “It happens frequently” my parents were told.

The first few years I wore glasses were a period of “on again, off again” experiences, since they kept getting broken. Because my parents couldn’t just take them to the mall for repairs, I would often go for weeks or sometimes months without them. Walking around in a blurry world is awkward, but I noticed my sense of hearing changed. It didn’t get better per se, but I was able to distinguish sounds with more accuracy. I could hear tires approaching and tell whose car it was.

By the time I had turned fifteen, I had learned how to not have broken glasses, and life settled into a sort of “normal.” When I was in my mid twenties, I got contact lenses and wore them for years until it was decided that to proceed would be detrimental to the health of my eyes.

I value my sense of sight; a gift from Creation that has allowed me to gaze upon heart-stopping beauty.

We all enjoy a sunrise or sunset; a rainbow after an afternoon or evening shower; the colours of the autumn leaves, and many of us have sights that are our personal favourites; a favourite place that holds special memories or brings a sense of peace and comfort. I have such a special place, a turn in the Nashwaak River in the village where I grew up. Sitting on that river bank, my life becomes whole again, the troubles seem to float away, with the ripples on the water. [Check out the attached video to share my bliss.]

Sight can also offer warnings. I have seen movement from the corner of my eye while driving and applied my brakes in time to avoid a collision with another vehicle. I have likewise been able to avoid attack from various dogs, people and falling objects while walking.

Sight can be descriptive: There are people who are not articulate enough to describe something, but can sketch it out and make others understand it. We can recognize our friends from afar by the way they move, or the colour of their favourite piece of clothing, or some other distinguishing feature.

The previously mentioned spot on the river bank or sunrises etc are but a few examples of how sight can bring us joy and peace. I love the sight of a well set table before a meal, even if the food has yet to appear. A well-kept lawn, especially if large trees are integrated, often makes me pause to enjoy the sight. Cars, motorcycles, drumsets, animals, architecture, can all be sources of enjoyment for me. However, these are subjective, and certainly not all examples have the same effect. It is odd how one building or car can strike my fancy, take me into a state of near reverie, while another of similar style gets barely a glance.

The same goes for people; especially those who are revered for their good looks, such as the celebrities on TV and in films. Sometimes I agree with these assessments, other times I do not. Yet, I know many “ordinary” people who have beauty beyond description. In some cases, a person may have no particularly outstanding physical beauty, but the beauty of their personality or spirit becomes associated with their appearance. This inner beauty is often so profound that the external body takes on a radiance that would be lacking otherwise. When such a person comes in sight, it is as if a Hollywood red carpet has been rolled out. The sight of a cherished friend can warm my heart and turn a bad day into a memorably wonderful experience.

Conversely, there are people who we are not overly thrilled to see. Their presence fills us with negative feelings, depression, fear or even loathing. Usually again it is not that they are ugly (some really attractive people still manage to make me feel disgust) but that their personality becomes associated with their outward appearance. Over time, I begin to feel apprehension at the appearance of said people.

Looking into the eyes or upon the face of someone very special, seeing a friend on the sidewalk or in the mall while shopping, gazing at a stunning sunset or a forest of autumn leaves, window shopping for a new car…. These are just some of the ways our sense of sight can bring us pleasure. What does it for you? What are the things you look at that make your heart skip a beat or take your breath for a moment? I’d love to hear from you.

~Still Wandering…