My companion, Polka, is laying in her basket next to me. I have known Polka since she was a mere six months. She is now nine years. The first time I met her here in France, she and I became fast friends. We walked in Aix. We read poetry together. I wrote. Time has its own pace and invitations. So very much comes our way, a fascinating dance of circumstance and choice: the good, the bad, the ugly, the poignantly mysterious, and the breathtakingly fascinating. On this final leg of my European Sawbonna Journey, I find myself asking new questions about what life is calling out of me in co-creative communitas with justice as a lived and living experience. I lean in close to how voicing with and for and because of the liminal will find me engaging upon my return to Ontario. When I left that province nine years ago, I was not a grandmother. I am now. A grandmother of three, with another new life making her/his way into the world early January of 2016. When I left Ontario in 2006, I had no idea of the exquisite and remarkable people I would meet, the adventures I would have, the loves, the losses, the abundance that would be visited upon me. Sawbonna continues to contour all that I do. All that I am. Respect. Responsibility. Relationship. Wonder. Rilke's words below are as a finely crafted GPS, which echo and resound with a wisdom that breathes creative fire, that invites the senses to rest to wrestle, to surrender to sup. They are Sawbonna's scent. They are Sawbonna's sibling. And I will return to Ontario with them firmly planted in my heart. And with Sawbonna nourishing the very mystery at the crossroads of infinite possibility.
SONNETS to ORPHEUS, XXIX
Quiet friend who has come so far,
Feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let the darkness be a bell tower and you the bell.
As you ring, what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
Be the mystery at the cross roads of your senses,
The meaning discovered there.