Always a Risk

Prairie Garden 
Royal Saskatchewan Museum 

 

Running toward tomorrow 

always risks 

losing out on today.

Go fast enough to get there, but slow enough to see.”

~ Jimmy Buffett, singer, songwriter

The Truth about Risk

Risk taken, risks not taken 

make up the continuum of life 

rather like hills and valleys 

that wander through the land. 

Well, maybe not the prairies, 

but a journey nevertheless. 

Some were called brave, or courageous, with an image of 

a warrior on horseback,

or a soldier in battle 

or maybe the person of

questionable intelligence 

skydiving or bungee jumping. 

No, the risks I’m talking about 

are not for the camera or 

the headlines of a newspaper. 

Risks like being brave enough 

to say ‘no’, to stand up for yourself, 

to go against the grain, 

to act on belief alone.

“No risk is too great to prevent the necessary job from getting done.”

~ Chuck Yeager

A Puzzle ~ TRUTH ~ Theme for December 2024

Taking leave of……

Risk taken, risks……

Up-ending what we…….

Tests have a way…..

Holding sway over……

“No legacy is so rich as honestly.”

William Shakespeare

A Cautionary Tale

Opening doors we didn’t know……

  could be opened ~

done with caution,

  expectations tempered ~

is a risk 

  and a challenge

at any age

  keeps us engaged

with the life

  we have been given.

“The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live.”

~ Flora Whittemore

Spring Risks

Puddles are muddy

Temptingly so!

One side is shallow

The other not so….

Shallow side safe

Deeper side fun!

Tiny splashes, dry toes?

A big splash, real fun!

“Never let the mud puddle get lost in the poetry because, 

in many ways, the mud puddle is the poetry.”

~ Valerie Worth, American poet

(October, 1933 - July 31, 1994)

We All 'need a minute'.

It took us much more than a minute to walk through the Mackenzie Art Gallery today. We began with Miskwaabik Animiiki Power Lines The Works of Norval Morrisseau, paintings of Anishinaabe storytelling. We three longtime friends strolled through Saskatchewan’s impressive Art Gallery for the next two hours. My descriptions of the installations would not do them justice. Even though I knew I would be writing about them tonight I have still felt inadequate to describe them. I have taken short writings from the booklet At the Mackenzie, Fall/Winter 2021/2022 

Dawit L. Petros - Spazio Disponibile, living and working in Montreal and Chicago “….reflects his research into the complex layers of colonial and postcolonial histories connecting East Africa and Europe.”

The Community Watch

From local artists these works are a “….commentary on current challenges to community….” that includes  “….a hopeful image emerges of the possibilities of collective action…”

Beyond the Stone Angel

Twelve artists from various locations have their works exhibited in “…a poetic exploration that provides an entrance post to the grief that has affected so many of us, especially as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic.”

Joi Arcand Nēhiyaw from Muskeg Lake Cree Nation

This is one that I missed! I did notice it but did not recognize it as an art installation: “….installed both on the interior and exterior of the window, overlapping to create overlapping readings from the perspective of those….” outside and in.

After a final stroll through the gift shop, we went to lunch. At the Roots restaurant. In the community.

The Mackenzie Art Gallery installations can be seen online at mackenzie.art

“Everything you can imagine is real.”

~ Pablo Picasso

**Last evening I ended by edging myself into a corner. At least that’s the way it felt when issues were raised by truckers’ convoy. But I do tend to be rather stubborn. Armed with our vaccine ‘passports’ and our government issued ID’s, we had a great day. Risk assessment showed that we were safe. We had a great day!

Walk On

Risky, rocky terrain begs to be walked on ~ a dare tossed randomly by Mother Earth.  

Hidden pools of cold water      shelter thick purple starfish but threaten injury to intrepid humans. A dare answered with caution can be a risk worth taking.

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”

~ T.S.Eliot

For the Magic ~ PERMISSION ~ Theme for November 2021

In this life, we are all given permission. Permission to go outside and play when we’re kids. Permission to wear what we want despite direction otherwise. Children and adolescents are especially good at this. Permission to decide what job or career we want to apply for when we grow up. When we’re retired, what permission do we need from anyone? Or even want? So for this month, my theme is ‘Permission’. Permission to be ‘alive in the world’ and to enjoy the magic of it all.

Precarious, unsteady ground…

Exposed to the bright light……

Risky, rocky terrain……

Magical, yet menacing….

I can’t……..

Serving a new purpose……

Simply in front of me…….

I Can!

Over the mountain……..

New but gently worn………..

“….the reason is that when we look at nature, 

we receive a sort of permission to be alive in the world…”

~ Naoki Higashida, The Reason I Jump:

The Inner Voice of a Thirteen-Year-Old Boy with Autism

It is Fitting

Solitude midst the pandemic 

with restricted movements,

fear of infection kept at bay 

from a distance ~

from unknown crowds ~

even one or two ~

still taking risks  

in the grocery store

in a taxi

on the bus

walking in the park

when I am so uncertain 

but still I keep writing 

feeling the space 

trying to find the right fit 

in my own home ~ just me ~

no longer skirting the fray and fringes of life 

~ tired of the skirting ~ 

lost in it’s folds, 

blinded by the draperies I’ve hidden behind

always wanting more 

not knowing what ‘more’ is 

until here I am fitting, sitting, writing

at my kitchen table knowing life is abundant.

My cup overflows and I am grateful. 

Not for the pandemic that kills ~

but for the space it has foisted upon me 

“Make the most of yourself….for that is all there is of you.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Never

Never

Audacity is sometimes mistaken for insensitivity. With good reason. Jack had been called audacious all his life, but he didn't really know what it meant. When he looked audacity up, his thirteen year old mind was shocked. As shocked as a thirteen year old boy can get. That second definition was a real pain. He didn’t mind the first one  - something about taking bold risks. He could see that. Kind of like skateboarding up that straight wall in the boarding park. He figured that was a pretty bold risk and he was the only one that could make that ride without crashing. But disrespectful? Never. His mom taught him better than that. “Mom!? Am I disrespectful? When I’m being that audacious thing grandma says I am.”

“Of course not, honey. You’ve learned to be a very respectful boy. Well, except maybe when all your skate boarding gets you in the hospital because you’ve broken your arm. Of course then there’s…………” Jack opened the fridge door, leaned into it and looked for something to drink. His voice muffled he said…… “All right. All right. You don’t need to get started on me.” His list of skate boarding injuries was so long that he knew most of the ER docs by their first names. they really like him and knew when he was as soon as they saw him. Jack grabbed the jug of orange juice, closed the fridge door with his foot and said. “I’m going out mom. See you later.” Jack grabbed his skateboard, chugged the last drop of orange juice and slammed out the door headed for some ramps and concrete steps one of the guys told him about. 

“Audacity is of all qualities the most youthful.”

~ Ellen Glasgow

Chapter One, Episode 32 - Risky Business - Situationally Theirs

June 07, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

Risky Business shows Digby at home, private even at home. It also shows the responsibilities at the Beaufort Estate. 

I cleaned up punctuation, typos, word placement and some sentence structure. The only addition was a page break.

Risky Business

Digby had been able to work from his home, a modest bungalow in a little cul-de-sac just outside of the Beaufort Estate grounds. If he had not brought the needed files with him when he removed himself from the Beaufort mansion, he would not have been able to do very much at all. He did not inform Mrs. Beaufort on that day. She was still asleep. Digby was not willing to waken her and deal with a potential temper tantrum, begging them, tearfully, to stay. He really was quite satisfied to be able to work from home for this hopefully short time. He kept the bills paid and the payroll up to date. There were fewer bills in this time of Covid19, but bills still had to be paid. The household credit card had not been in use since the middle of March when Mrs. Beaufort and her sister purchased groceries for him. She had offered to pay for them, but he insisted. ‘I do appreciate your offer, Mrs. Beaufort however, I do like to keep my personal accounts up to date.’ Emelina had known Digby for a long time, well aware of such a strict code. She knew that he expected her offer and that he would decline. It was a little polite expectation between employer and employee. 

A healthy monthly deposit from the Estate funds was very fortunate when so many others were struggling just to make ends meet in this dreadful time. These were funds that Mr. Beaufort, Jr. had left to Mrs. Beaufort in his will. Besides keeping the bills paid, he was able to maintain the payroll for the employees. Any seasonal workers or casual employees had not been called in so those parts of the payroll were not necessary. Accruing overtime hours by employees also has not happened so was not an expense. 

Each morning Digby got up early and got ready for work as he always had. Keeping his hair tidy was becoming a problem. However, he managed to trim the shagginess away. He did think that, if he had been a considerably younger man, he would have shaved his head bald just to keep it tidy. Even the thought of what he might look like brought a smile to his eyes with a hint of an upturn at the corners of his mouth. Digby dressed casually each morning. His favourite plaid shirt with the button down collar, his pressed khaki slacks and his leather house sandals were comfortable home alternatives to his butler uniform and highly polished Brogues. 

After dressing, the next order of business in Digby’s morning was a simple breakfast. One slice of buttered toast, a boiled egg ~ soft but not runny ~, a half an orange and two cups of tea. Coffee was reserved for later in the day. While eating his breakfast, he listened to the news and any virus updates on CBC. Following breakfast, he washed, dried and put away his dishes.  After a short stroll in his backyard to check on the state of his bird feeders and get a bit of fresh air, he went into his home office to work. This order was followed meticulously. Digby had always believed that routine was an excellent way to manage one’s way through good times and bad. It had been a little difficult to keep that up when the days started to become long, however his years of discipline had stood him in good stead.

While in the garden, checking on his roses he thought of Martha. He was going to be calling her on video chat in the early evening to discuss the graduated return to work they were planning. She should be doing her inspection of the Mansion soon and would have a report for him when he spoke with her. Aloud he said: "I wonder if she dances". Looking sharply up to see if anyone was around, he turned abruptly and disappeared into the house.

~~~~~

Digby turned his desk lamp on and settled in his desk chair. Any files remaining at the Estate were locked securely in the safe in his office bedroom. He had a second much smaller safe at home. It was there that he kept the Beaufort files. Pushing the keys to release the combination lock, he removed them, placing them on his desk. The payroll would be sent out today. Because no casual or temporary staff had been utilized since this distancing and isolating shut down had occurred, those being paid would be the regular full-time and part-time staff only. Satisfied that this would ease the budget, he began the work of sending out the payroll. When he started with Beaufort’s many years prior, cheques were made out and Mr. Michael signed them. Later on, it became legal to have a stamped signature. Then it was direct deposit to individual bank accounts, which did simplify things. Writing out cheques and finding Mr. Michael was very time consuming. Digby did have it very organized, but still, setting up the direct deposit was much better. Payroll finished, all bills were up to date, Digby put them all back into his little safe. 

He didn’t even have to get out of his chair. He wheeled himself across the two feet to the cupboard that the safe was stored in. Wheels are a wondrous invention. He rolled back again, then forward, then, with his hands firmly on the arms of the chair did a half turn one way and then the other. Digby glanced out the window facing the front yard. There was no one there. He spun all the way around, put his hands flat on his desk and stood up. Behave yourself, man. You grew up a long time ago. Before he left the room, he reached back to give his desk chair a final spin, straightened up to walk down the hall toward the kitchen. Instead of going into the kitchen, he turned left into the front hall. Knowing it was still quite cool out, he put on his brown wool serge jacket, set his Ivy League flat cap on his head and readied himself for a brief walk. Before going out the door, he checked his footwear. His brown socks almost matched his brown sandals. Ordinarily Digby would have changed into outdoor shoes, but he was feeling particularly risky for some reason. He glanced in the hall mirror, adjusted his cap to a slightly rakish angle and, whistling a Bing Crosby tune, stepped out of his front door. 

“Fortune sides with him who dares.”

~ Virgil

A Risky Journey

A fresh new bean shoot

Always a risk

to climb higher each day,

vining around supports with

no knowledge

if a deer's razor sharp teeth will 

nip the steady climb toward sunshine,

no knowledge 

of cloud cover or wind

that may slow upward progress.

Taking a risk anyway ~

the only task for seeds

planted in moist, dark soil.

“A seed, after all, is an embryo, a potential plant waiting 

for its moment to grow. It has what it needs to begin. 

But it can also put itself on pause. It can wait.”

~ Robert Krulwich, journalist

Suddenly Choices

Lynn Canyon Park, North Vancouver
from the centre of the foot bridge

Standing tall and taking a deep breath, 

     potential, 

      risk and 

       possibility surround me.

But which wins my heart and soul?

Or will it be all three?

Only the one

     in front of me

       planned with exploration the goal

         popping up out of the blue

With intriguing elements that 

     warm my heart

        bring smiles to my face

           expand my soul.

Always room for the challenges of

     Rocky roads

       Sudden detours 

          Stormy weather.

Standing tall and taking a deep breath, 

I choose.

“May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.”

~ Nelson Mandela