A Gift

The smoke of green sage curled 

in the air around my head,

carried by my hands;

asked that I be the vessel for 

good words, good thoughts, 

a voice for the voiceless and 

deep caring from my heart. An 

eagle feather guided the smoke 

all around me and beneath my feet 

to guide me on a straight path…

~ a blessing from the Creator.

“The excellence of a gift lies in it appropriateness rather than in its value.”

 ~ Charles Dudley Warner, essayist, author

Left Behind

Grand schemes filled 

with hopes and dreams

Crashing

Burning

Leave behind only

smoke and ashes

Unless

Courage

Picks through ash and embers

For charred scraps left behind

Glowing!

Alive!

Ideas arise through acrid smoke

Anger is softened and tears are left behind!

“For the human soul is virtually indestructible, and its ability 

to rise from the ashes remains as long as the body draws breath.”

Author: Alice Miller

*quote taken from quotestats.com

Haze

Orange and golden 

before the sun sets down 

haze in the sky

too high 

no smell of smoke

in the prairie azure blue

gigantic fires rage 

on the western edge 

frantic fire fighters 

do battle against 

ferocious tongues of 

roaring vicious flames.

“Smoke veils the air like souls in drifting suspension, 

declining the war’s insistence everyone move on.”

~ Jayne Anne Phillips, Lark & Termite

Smoke Stream

Second hand smoke is a real bother. Like flying bugs swarming around your face while one is trying to breathe. Definitely the smoke that people inhale into tender lungs has a more immediate impact to the smoker. In my perusing of journals and exercise books from twelve years ago, I came across this challenge to another trail of tar from nicotine. What prompted this writing I’m not certain. I suspect it was the smokers I saw that day, until, as is my habit, a stream of consciousness took over and spun a bit of fanciful reality. The quality of such unedited writing is often variable, especially when I can't read my own writing, so I've tried to spruce it up a bit.

Eight Men

Eight men smoking, lined up against the dark brown brick of a shopping mall. Different heights, ages and ethnicities. They are all gone now. Only a few stray cigarette butts left on the sidewalk. The air is clean and clear. The rain has settled the smoke onto the sidewalk where we will only wear the tar on the soles of our feet as we walk to and from the mall. No smoking outside, but nicotine tar inside where it will be taken into homes and family. But mostly on mops and in buckets when the janitors clean. Does the rain wash the sidewalks tar into the gutter?

“There’s a fine line between a stream of consciousness 

and a babbling brook to nowhere,”

~ Dan Harmon

Drift

Low tide - White Rock, B.C.

The smoke filled air

shadows Earth’s dome of blue

roaming on uncertain currents.

“I think there will be more smiles when the smoke clears.”

~ Shaun Alexander

Monday Special

A charred wisp of smoke

dissolved in sunshine and cool water ~ gritty edges warmed and washed away

Curious about rest and rejuvenation ~ Would I have time? Would it return calm and ease?

With friends ~

 Walking by glittering blue ocean

   Chatting and laughing about movies and clothing

Luncheon treat on a patio in the sunshine

     Delicious watermelon salad

         Reading and writing

Rejuvenating pool time

    Water soft, clear and warm

        Diving back into my own body.

My Monday Special

    Turns life around

        Brings me back to my home

“If life throws you a few bad notes or vibrations, 

don’t let them interrupt or alter your song.”

~ Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: 

The Writings of Suzy of Kassem

Minor Details

I noticed something curious today. No, not the hazy sky - not quite as smokey today, but still enough to dry my throat. It was signs. Signs that are seen in most cities. As is usual we are admonished by signs to usually ‘don’t do’ something.

In relation to the concerns that many have about people throwing cigarette butts carelessly out a window or casually when walking from here to there, I thought about two specific sorts of signs ~ the ‘pick up your dog’s poop’ sign and the ‘no smoking' signs.

The ‘pick up your dog’s poop' signs, worded much more delicately than that are usually positioned near a garbage or in the case of the lovely one at Shoal Point, even have their own little garbage bin.  Not only that there are little metal boxes holding plastic bags in case you’ve accidentally forgotten your own plastic doggy doo-doo bag. Shame to the dog owner that ignores the citizenry with such a foul smelling and really gross mess.

The ‘no smoking’ signs, a burning cigarette with a red slash across are positioned where cars are parked or at a park sidewalk entrance. There are no receptacles below them to ‘butt out’ before stepping into dry grass. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

I do believe, quite honestly, that preventing even a small fire let alone a forest fire is rather important.  Just ask the citizens of Barriere, B.C. in 2003 who lost their homes because of a cigarette butt tossed away. I also believe that stripping our earthly home of houses, barns, sheds, trees, vegetation, health, lives and livelihoods take precedence over offending our olfactory sensibilities (and the soles of our shoes).  

Do I see any problems that could come of such little receptacles? Yes, especially for those that search for cigarette butts to smoke.  (You don’t see anyone pawing through garbage for little bags of poop.)

But the damage done to lives impacted by fire, whether a devastating urban fire or a forest fire is far more than just a problem.

“When something is important enough, 

you do it even if the odds are not in your favor.”

~ Elon Musk

Minor Inconvenience

In the past week, the skies here have been clear and sunny, despite extremely dry, forest wildfires reported in news items from mainland B.C. and from Saskatchewan. I recalled being in Kelowna in 2003 when homes were lost, smoke hung heavy in the air and ash dropped on the fruit stand where I worked the summer before coming to Victoria. This year fires are being fought in the Joe Rich area of Kelowna. While the threat is dangerous, it has been reported that it is not as devastating as the 2003 fire. Family there have not been affected at this writing. In Saskatchewan, family in the south of the province is affected by heavy smoke from the devastating fires in the north, with temporary ease from a light rain.

This morning, a heron flew over outside my patio doors. Then, these young two herons alit atop a tree across the street.  Unusual, because the heron nests are over in park in the much taller trees. The morning sky was a grey blanket and the colour, even now while I write, was yellow. Walking downtown this afternoon, the sun was merely a red ball. Breathing the air initially only felt dry but as the day has progressed the smell of smoke accompanied the dryness. 

Breathing much heavier smoke, losing their homes, evacuated to safer places ~ far too many people (one is too many) are losing more than just a pretty day.

Belief in the dedication and bravery of the fire fighters is couched in immense gratitude from this writer. My hope is that all will be safe and have all the supplies and water they need for doing this dangerous work, and that very soon all will return home.

“Nothing is so firmly believed as that which we least know.”

~ Michel de Montaigne, The Complete Essays

It is Only Air

Thirty-five years ago 
at the approximate time of this writing

I was in The Carvery Restaurant, in Regina, 

enjoying steak with Gary, Sharon and Danny.

It was here I had my second to last cigarette.

(My last was in 1986 ~ another story)

For thirty-five years now, 

my lungs have not been clouded by cigarette smoke (except for that one day)

Why did I even want to quit smoking?

Was it fear of cancer ~ heart disease?

Nothing so grand ~

Money ~ too darn much going up in smoke (pardon the pun).

Clear air around myself, my family, my friends for clarity and presence.

Smoke-free clothes, walls and windows for a much brighter world

Clean ashtrays ~ so stinky! (No ashtrays to clean!)

All of those things added up 

becoming more important to me 

than the pleasure from just one cigarette.

It does only take one, you know.

It was not the first time I quit smoking

nor the second

nor even the third.

It was staying stopped that was difficult

in a society where smoking was 
much more of a norm than it is today

With no intent to quit smoking forever 

when I began this little side trip,

and still no intent to quit smoking forever

I will put off having that 'just one more' cigarette for today.....

                         ***

Thirty-five years of no smoking 

has changed the very air that I breathe.

So I have an anniversary today ~

neither momentous nor earth shattering

After all, it is only air.

“All things share the same breath ~ the beast, the tree, the man..

the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.”

~ Chief Seattle

Firestorm - 1

Rage

Bright bursts of long tongued fire roar and burn everything in sight.

Leaving smoking ruins.

Unsavory stench of burning wood.

Smoldering ruins ignored.

Smoke settles

Cool breezes blow in

Stench diluted with

drenching rain onto

face, eyes, hair and clothes

washing the awfulness of the giant burn.

Anger

A bright flash of fire

not from a flame thrower.

Merely a lighter in my hand.

Flicking the hot flame 

quickly on and off, 

my hand grows tired.

The lighter goes in my pocket

Flicking fire flashes 

Unnecessary

Unproductive

Gigantic fire anger dampened

Embers no longer even smoldering.

Ash returning to earth at my feet.

Greenery, bearing beauty and food,

grows silently around me.

The lighter stays quiet,

resting but ready 

to spring into action....

when I need to light the barbeque

Rage

A thing of the past.

“Anger is a killing thing: it kills the man who

 angers, for each rage leaves him less than he 

had been before - it takes something from him.”

~ Louis L'Amour