Thoughts from 35,000 feet

At 35000 ft things are supposed to be clearer than they seem today.

Not clearer in the sense of being able to see the ground perfectly without those patches of puffy white cloud as the jet soars northward, but clearer in the sense of being able to see the big picture, something I like to think I have a fairly keen sense of being able to do with certain clarity most days.  But when presented with the actual unique perspective of seeing the world from 35000 ft above, watching the rocky snow capped tops of mountains far below rising sharply from the land around them - dotted areas of human experience the minority among the angular slopes - I'm less sure of what I need and what I know than I was a week ago when we first flew into the Arizona desert.

I've left something of my soul behind this trip, and while that isn’t a departure from previous trips for me, this time feels like I've left something important, and I'm not quite feeling whole.

Maybe it was the desert sun, such a stark contrast to the winter snow and wind- chills we left behind allowing us to bare our arms and legs in shorts and t-shirts instead of wooly layers, or maybe it was the barren landscape of browns and washed out greens, the desolate remains of fertile plains baked by the sun for centuries as the rivers carried soils southward, the scrubby granular backdrop to a story of survival and perseverance that called to me.  Or maybe it was the chance to finally experience a place that I have been to many times in my mind but never in person, an opportunity to cement a connection that has been growing for many years, one which has sustained me and fulfilled me in ways I never knew I needed.

This trip was planned around the boy and hockey, a chance for a hard-luck team to experience success at the end of a season of disappointment and return home for the playoffs re-energized and reminded of how winning feels, hopefully to create momentum to mount a charge against much higher seeded opponents.  A 1-27 squad arrived and fought their way to the final four in Phoenix before bowing out in an early morning loss on Monday, going 3-2 during the tournament and bonding together away from the rinks in the way that only a trip away from home can provide - poolside time without parents and coaches, day trips to experience the local attractions, and teen-aged independence in a foreign country help to create the men these boys will become.  Where this year's season ends is yet to be decided, but there is no denying they will have changed thanks to this week.

And while hockey was the reason we found ourselves in Phoenix in mid- February, we took advantage of the trip to further expand our horizons and see more of this world if even for only a few extra days, and experience as much of what the area has to offer as we could given the time constraints. Half the team decided to stay a few more days beyond the end of the games to either relax or sightsee instead of returning to the ice and snow.

We've learned we need to do this, not content to sit and stay if we can drive and see and do when in a new land, and this trip afforded us a unique ability to see and do with local knowledge and guidance, a welcomed treasure to be sure, one which accelerated our ability to extract the nuances from the sites and scenery in a way we could never have hoped to do on our own. 

And so we set out to see the Arizona that exists outside the desert playground, the one that offers stunning vistas and changing geographies within an hour's drive north on I17.  We were treated to ancient ruins and stony cliffs, arid soils dotted with cactus and desert vegetation, pine forests and wooded parklands, and towering jagged peaks topped with frosted snow in the distance.  The elevations changed as quickly as the landscape and for the flat-landers from the North it was a treat for the senses, though we could do without the pressure changes every now and then, and let’s not speak of the snow that followed us south…

We stepped back in time along Route 66 in Williams, AZ then further back at the South rim of the Grand Canyon - 'the big hole'- and where many might find a certain ambivalence surrounding the natural wonder, Karen and I most certainly felt a connection to the area, even though we only spent a few short hours along it's edge.  The boy seemed intrigued but also a little fearful, perhaps challenged by the reality of the landscapes, and hopefully in time he will find the hours spent here to be beneficial to his understanding of his surroundings. I got to frame the lands through a viewfinder this time, again not so different from trips past, but a new camera provided a new lens through which to filter the sights, and while not yet fully comfortable with the new gear it did allow me greater freedom and artistic license to capture my perspectives.

The same was true of the hockey I watched, not as a parent tuned solely to my son the way most parents are, but through the camera lens I was able to find a profound distance from the boy which brought increased clarity and acceptance of the reality of the games, far removed from the normal ego-centric view from the stands.  Framing shots of each player as they moved through the contests, I watched the activity unfold rather than willing it to happen, and when favorable outcomes appeared I was fully present and able to capture tiny moments of time, freezing them forever, able to step through them slowly and perfectly, uncovering details usually lost in the speed of the action.

Maybe that's why I feel less than whole today - though I know I need more time to reflect upon the week to truly help it settle - maybe that's what I left behind. In the desert mountains and ancient landscape I found something I didn't know I had lost, and in wrapping it up to carry forward with me I was forced to uncover and leave behind a part of my nature that has always seemed central to who I was. 

The boys came to Phoenix to leave behind a hockey past and carry home a new future.  I came to Phoenix with open eyes and found in its ancient past a part of my soul that has lain dormant and quiet, an understanding that watching my world through a different lens allows more light in and creates greater time and space, letting me be still in the chaos.  The silence of the Arizona soul, still existing in quiet corners and deep within the lands, will speak to you if you let it, but it can be difficult to hear it through the constant noise of the future.

I was wrong. Things are perfectly clear up here at 35000 ft. Sometimes you need that distance to help you focus and allow the true image to appear.

Leaving things behind

The winter storm of 2013 continues to roll across the Eastern Seaboard blanketing that side of the continent in a thick white mass of snowy coldness, stranding many, knocking out power to many more and letting all know who care to pay attention that nature is the great equalizer – and tempting fate with her designs is folly.  Snow banks devoured cars abandoned in haste, plows and salt trucks became newsworthy heroes, and the transplanted weather persons sprouted up in blizzard conditions to report by the second something we here on the prairie barely give a passing thought.

We shrug and continue on into our February, concerned for friends and family affected by delays and power outages, marveling at how almost 3 feet of snow can fall in such a short time and how paralyzing it can be when it does, and wonder why certain places seem to get hit harder than others, if the Gods have truly lost their minds and are consciously picking favorites this time around.  Travel restrictions and outright bans are in place in various locales, so crews can dig places out and make roads safe and get the power flowing again, bans ignored by many first thing Saturday morning since the snow had stopped and the sun was shining and the car needed gas in case, in case what they don’t really know, but they certainly didn’t mean me with that travel ban stuff did they?

rch.drwinters.net

My neighbor was found yesterday afternoon in front of his house atop a 6’ stepladder, 3 sections of aluminum tubing connected in length with a wide blue plastic rake secured to the end grasped in his hands as he stood and cleared the accumulated drifts from the rooftop.  That’s where he was when we left for the boy’s hockey game just after lunch, and upon our return some 5 plus hours later the fruits of his labor were evident in the now-visible shingles that hadn’t been seen since sometime in November.  Of course the ridge and highest parts of the roof still had an outline of thick bands of packed snow, and now my roof next door looked completely cocooned compared to his, mine untouched and silently secure waiting for spring.

It was a road game for the boy’s team yesterday afternoon, the last league road game of the season – game 26 of a 28 game schedule – 2 final home games this week to end the regular season before we escape the longest losing streak any of us can remember with a tournament trip to Phoenix on Thursday, staying a week in the desert hoping the 24 game skid after staring 1-1 gets left behind in the sand with the cacti and memories of good times with friends.  But that’s still on the horizon, and there was still the matter of game 26 to settle – vs. the likely first round playoff opponent – a bigger, faster, more skilled team made up of leftover parts of two previous teams – but leftovers with skill and size and an impressive record compared to the long, dark shadow of futility that follows our team.

In the end it was another loss on the score sheet, but as has been the case all year the score doesn’t really give a true indication of the facts – how the game was close and back and forth and yes the boys don’t clear the front of the net or check with any great thundering presence – but that’s all part of how we got to where we are – and yet the game was still a competitive struggle, and could have gone either way at the beginning of the third, and sadly went the way so many of the games have this year, one bad goal followed quickly by two or three more and suddenly the previously close contest has slipped out of reach, and a losing team content and complacent with losing again, runs out of time.

A few bright spots on the day though – the boy scored his first goal of the year, heck, his first of three years – the defensive defenceman is not known for his offensive prowess, and a fluttering shot from the point bounced and found it’s way through the opposing goaltender’s legs and in the back of the net to make the game 5-2 with 3:08 left in the 2^nd.  I almost missed it, spending the first 2 periods testing out the new camera before our trip South, got a picture of him just before he received the puck at the blue line, set the camera down to grab a quick swig of coffee, and watched his shot as it headed toward the net, not ever thinking it was going to find it’s intended target.

He seemed more stunned than anyone – this isn’t the kind of thing his game consists of – and this year not many of this team can say they’ve scored many more – but received the celebratory hugs and high fives at centre ice with a shocked smile and I’m sure a certain amount of relief behind it all. 

His mother, when informed via text that her boy had scored, cursed and used bad texting form in return, upset that she chose to stay home this particular afternoon and mark papers instead of making the trek to Selkirk, and felt the sinking feeling parents do when they miss important milestones in the lives of their offspring.  She’ll get over it – maybe.  Mothers hold that kind of guilt with them in those hidden places of their souls, and torture themselves much more than dads do – though men don’t openly admit it as much or suffer it so personally, and she’ll greet him later with a huge hug and warm embarrassing embrace congratulating him and reward him in the way mothers know best – by making him a cake – since all women know that guilt can be assuaged by chocolate.

I’ve been busy these last few weeks after fighting off the ridiculous flu over the holidays – the one that cost me three weeks and left me gasping for air on New Year’s – and my desk this morning shows how busy I’ve been.  It is a lifelong habit come home to roost, the piling of possessions on my desk in times of pressing projects and long days on site, no down time for paperwork or filing or processing of daily life – just stack it over there on the least piled area and I’ll look at it later, please.  And before you know it’s been a month and the quiet chaos closes in and you’re forced to confront it or ignore it for a few more days.

But with the hockey trip coming up quickly this week, it’s time to face my fears and spend some time putting order to the piles and clearing some mental space in the process.  Find the passports and the maps and the odds and ends required for a weeklong trip, find some room on the desk and in the filing cabinets and find myself again in the calmness.

It’s been a busy few weeks but it’s been a time of creative energy, making something out of nothing as I finish a basement renovation for friends, the bar my current task, and the week has seen me staining and applying depth and colour to flat raw wood in a way that once it’s all complete will generate a certain life into the finished piece and into the entire project.  The friends know and understand that I’m leaving parts of myself behind in the process, in the details and design that a few months ago made little sense to them but today my vision is shared and accepted with a knowing smile and appreciation and the trust I was shown has been rewarded in the outcomes.

It’s how I work; it’s who I am.  I leave a trail of my time wherever I am able to fully integrate myself into my work, and in the process create a greater understanding of my place and where I fit into this world.    I’m hoping I’m affecting that kind of pride of workmanship and care in the boy’s behaviors and approaches to the world – it certainly seems to need more of that these days – but time will tell.  His understated and modest acceptance of his accomplishment yesterday on the ice may have been shock and surprise or it may have been his true character revealing itself in a quick moment of center-stage. 

Big, important things like character and values get buried under the stresses and pressures of everyday life, and you need to spend some time clearing away the piles of snow from the rooftops every now and then to reveal the truth that lays beneath.  Most people soldier on ignorant of the hidden gems in others around them, concerned with their own shoveling and clearing for immediate personal gains rather than for the collective good.  I know I have sacrificed some personal peace these past weeks in favor of the project that has consumed me, but I’ve made sure to take time for the important things along the way – like watching that puck bounce over the goal line yesterday afternoon, or enjoying that piece of cake with the boy and his proud mom – but I also know that my efforts will live on behind me in the details I’ve left behind for others to enjoy.

Maybe silently secure isn’t such a bad thing.