Portal 52

At the edge of the storm
There’s a portal, a way
To cross and be re-born,
Drenched if you choose to stay

Sunlight presses the dark
Darkness fades into light
Weeping clouds leave their mark
As the threshold burns bright

During this week, my husband and I celebrated an important milestone – our 30th wedding anniversary. As a follow-up to my last blog on how marriage is a portal, I’d like to explore how each anniversary of a wedding ca

On September 30, 2017, our son Ben married a lovely woman named Sara. Like many couples these days, they decided to have their ‘first look’ pictures taken before the ceremony rather than waiting until Sara walked down the aisle. They chose this location, a bridge behind our house, to be the spot where Sara would regale Ben with the first sight of his beautiful bride-to-be in her wedding dress and veil.

As I walked along the quickly darkening pathway to the outhouse, a kangaroo sprang out from behind the trees on my left, and in three short bounds, disappeared amongst the trees on my right. Good thing the outhouse was close, so that when my heart started beating again, I could make it in time.

The year had been a rut-filled, challenging journey. I was exhausted and, at times, overwhelmed with grief, stress and the herculean efforts it took to get through mundane, everyday tasks – ‘burnt out’ some might have called it, though I was not in the space to recognize that myself.

The small town of Nanton, Alberta, is located along Highway 2, a 45-minute drive south of Calgary. It is a unique place to visit, a portal in its own right. Stepping back in history is as easy as crossing a threshold; the town boasts numerous antique stores, as well as the Bomber Command Museum, a veritable graveyard of WWII-era planes and artifacts. Even if one merely drives through the town without stopping it is possible to witness history, as these grain elevators stand tall beside the now defunct section of the Canadian Pacific Rail line, right beside Highway 2.

Today is May 23, 2018. It is Week 21, yet here I am posting Week 16. This image of a barrel wave explains, in part, why I have fallen so far behind with posting my weekly paintings and updating my blog.

About twenty years ago, I realized that my heart was holding onto a secret desire. This desire was tucked away deeply in my heart, hidden under so many layers of fears, doubts, and painful memories that, even now, as I look back on my journey, I am amazed that this desire ever saw the light of day. But it did.

A beautiful, and great, weeping willow tree stood in the middle of the ancient villa of San Lorenzo di Arzene, rising high above the plains of the Friuli region. The courtyard, similar to other rural villas of centuries past where peasant families would gather to socialize and draw water from the shared well, often became the driving force behind subsequent “urban planning.” The weeping willow tree was located next to the perennial source of water; thus, it became the majestic centrepiece of the town square.

Although the space was small for three families to share this courtyard, every square inch was functional. The water pump and the outdoor bathroom were located at the back of the house, and a barn was built to house the cows. According to my mother-in-law, “The barn was small. It could hold three cows; two went in straight, but one had to go in sideways.” Then, because there was no room left in the barn, they built a small shed, which served double duty as a shelter for the donkey and for tool storage.