soup.

we share a table. over bowls of delicious homemade soup. in an incomplete basement. a work in progress. that serves a purpose. and has potential. but has far to go. a different space than we usually cross paths. but here we are. sharing moose stew. and chicken noodle soup. and as we sit. in coversation. in silence. we celebrate what has been. what is. while wondering what might be. and how we might fit in this process of evolution. how we might all be a part of something bigger than ourselves.

and voices are real. and voices are heard. voices that speak of the gravity of homelessness. of sleeping out in the cold. of being kicked out in the cold at seven in the morning. of walking. walking. walking. when there is no where to go. when everywhere is closed on sundays. even the churches. of tresspassing just to get a place to sleep in jail. of survival. desperate survival.

yet voices are thankful. even though there is much to improve. even though there is much more to be done. voices seem appreciative. of the safe space that has been provided. of the chance to be heard.

and voices are hopeful. that we will continue to come together. as people. sharing a table. sharing our common humanity. remembering our liberation is caught up in each other. so let us journey together. let us honour one another. let us one day overcome.

snowshoeing.

we wander along the tundra. my traveling companion and i. on perhaps the same earth we once gathered berries. and danced in the sunlight. during that seemingly eternal summer.

we wander along the tundra. now a sea of white. except for the islands of brown willows that rise above the surface. and though we are limited. by the cold. by the darkness. we still find moments of light. moments of warmth. to admire the nearby hills. to marvel at the distant mountains. as we leave the marks of our journey in the snow.

quite often those moments coexist with the sun's celebration at the close of the day. as she slowly departs in vibrant hues to share her light with other lands. and those sunsets remind us of endings. of beginnings. but mostly of beauty. beyond our understanding. beyond ourselves. yet beauty that we are somehow allowed to witness. somehow allowed to be a part of.

and we strive to be mindful. of the present beauty. the present moment. but our hearts are curious. of the views from the hills ahead. and a certain anticipation stirs. as we approach the crests of new perspectives. as we imagine what our eyes may experience on the other side. yet to focus only on that which is beyond. blinds us of the splendor all around.

perhaps the secret. is finding a balance. honouring what is. trusting in what will be. believing in the existence of beauty. wherever this interconnected journey leads.

hills.

every new place inspires humility. a reminder that there is so much yet to discover. so much to yet to learn. so much yet to experience. traveling is broadening. in more ways than one. a kindred spirit still whispers in my ear.

and the mountains are different here. towering over this quaint little town they call a city. with trees for sweaters. and snow for hats. an inexcapable presence. continually reminding us that there are things greater than ourselves. stirring awe. perpetuating mystery.

and amidst the hilly avenues. coffee shops enable paths to cross with dear friends. book stores offer windows and mirrors of understanding. community art spaces showcase collective beauty. examples of native art persist as cultures blend. strangers glady accept a smashed granola bar from the depths of a canvas bag.

and at the zenith of one particular hill. people gather. in fancy suits. shaking hands. and talking about how to make our corner of the world. a little brighter. and perhaps some words are empty. perhaps some words float around aimlessly. but there are words. ideas. passions. that are heard. that may. just may. evolve into action. there's a certain energy. a certain hope. about the conversations on top of this hill.

and down below. are the people that are affected. by the words exchanged on that hill. and i belong down below. amidst everyday people. amidst grassroots. amidst struggle. but my eyes have been opened. my perspective widened. to the everyday people who work on that hill. who somehow have been chosen. to make decisions. that have potential. to help feed children who are hungry. to support people struggling with substance abuse. to expand educational opportunities. if only they will listen. to the voices raised. if only those voices will find courage to speak. with confidence they will be heard.

if only.