Going Home

Rain is the ocean crying in that it may return to itself.

On the way home while walking through the rain, I noticed some of the trees in Vancouver are so large, and the rain so consistent here (it can rain for a month straight) that streams can be observed running down their trunks. I have never seen this before; but then again, I have never lived in Vancouver before.

Rain has its own music. Considering the massive tree before me, I listened to the enduring song of the unrelenting deluge pelting the perennials able-bodied wood. Then finding their way back from all the other branches, the droplets made their way to the main flow down the center of the trunk. Here, I observed, was the most direct path for the now coalescing vertical rivulets to flow. From here, they traveled through Bark Canyon, then cascaded along Root Boulevard to finally spill out onto the vast airy expanse of Lawn Prairie. There was something about watching this unadulterated flow: the sound of it; the smell of it; the feel of it; like a soothing balm, massaged my appeasing ease.

Probing beyond Lawn Prairie, I witnessed this returning current progressing onward joining yet a greater flow, its spirit percolating upon the road abutting the sidewalk where I stood. Off in the distance, the mighty Fraser River, with it’s own munificent music, gently eased itself into the Pacific Ocean – the mightiest chorus of all.

Back where I stood on the sidewalk, I continued my journey home. Now walking with the rain, I followed the stream; it was going my way.

Randy Quickfall ღƪ(ˆ◡ˆ)ʃ ☼

Discourses with Ducks

Gazing at the pond, I spotted some ducks wading in their mellow marsh. Then I noticed a giant boulder adjacent to the water. Pulling out the bread I had in my coat pocket, I thought, ‘that would be a good place to feed the ducks from.’ So with spirited purpose, I jumped up onto the boulder and just as I did, the whole pond erupted into an agitated mass of fleeing frightened ducks. My leaping action onto the boulder apparently did not do much for my welcome.

However, food being the ultimate placater to their distress, the ducks cautiously returned to find bread raining on the water below my rock. Then I noticed that they started to squabble over the bread. It appeared that some of the pieces were too large for them to eat which caused bickering; the ducks competed to see who could force the bread down their throats the fastest – before someone else could take it away from them. Somewhat amused by this, but then curious, I threw in the last few pieces of bread and then left.

Later in the day, while in contemplation, these same ducks paid me a visit. This is what they taught me:

• When feeding us, be gentle in your approach lest you scare your audience away.
• Feed us at our level; do not feed down to us.
• Remember, smaller bits of food are easier to digest.
• Finally, and most importantly, allow your giving to nourish your living.

I see ducks differently now.

Randy Quackfall (giggle) ღƪ(ˆ◡ˆ)ʃ ☼

Paradise within Paradox

Paradox? – not sure of itself, questioned the door there, to be sure, but could not let go of the idea….it guessed?

Meanwhile, Paradise opened the door and found nothing here.

Randy Quickfall ღƪ(ˆ◡ˆ)ʃ ☼

The Grace of Space

While making an entry in my journal at my writing table, I looked up to catch a glint of light, like a sentinel beacon, reflecting off the dozen yellow roses resting in their glass vase; I purchased them recently (guys like roses too) to brighten up my room. Then I noticed something – one of the roses was wilting but not the others, however, the other roses were struggling to grow. Then, upon closer observation, I noticed that all the roses were bunched together too closely, depriving the wilting rose of its own light.

I stopped writing and immediately pulled the few wilted petals off the bereaved rose, then spaced out the remaining roses so that everyone had ample light. Then it hit me: To avoid wilting personal growth, give space to others to allow them to be in their own light to grow; then everything blooms more naturally as it should.

My room seems much brighter now.

Randy Quickfall ღƪ(ˆ◡ˆ)ʃ ☼