Jul 07 2007
Training week, Cont.
We had our closing ceremony last night, which was rife with songs, gross talents and spontaneity.
It began with a delicious and hearty meal, complete with massage trains for lineups. Everyone feasted and then split into their respective groups, East Coast and Maritimes bike tours, and began the ritual.
It depicted how the two groups formed, came together, and eventually separated again, by having each tour sing a song, that mixed with the other tour’s song, as the two groups made eye contact and walked towards eachother. Standing in the middle of a huddle of singing bodies melted the boundaries between them and an experience I will never forget.
Next was the talent show, where people came up to sing songs, perform juggling and musical acts, and I even contributed a small poem. I’m writing it here to share with you and to have it somewhere in case anyone there that night wants to revisit it at some point:
Most things in life are up for debate. Some say that what happens to us is decided by fate, and its true that most of the time we don’t put up much of a fuss. Except when we can see. It is so clear, here, what needs to be that close to thirty have gathered to act. Enough is enough! Is the message to be sent. Most of the time we wait for fate, but this is an ode to the impatient.
Potent vibrations, and olfactations, will be spread on the bread and butter of our nation. Those who will reach us will never be the same, when exposed to our brains, they will be changed! Without fail, but with hail, the energies will please and astound with their profound vision for our future.
The future. The future we will build together. The first future that will incorporate everything and everybody, and if we’re lucky will value minds and not things like rings and ringtones, I hope.
I hope. I hope we get it right this time. That is my reason to dream.
The most moving moment of the evening was the moment before we broke the circle to clean and vacate the glass fishbowl hovering over a bustling Sobey’s produce section we had been inhabiting for close to twelve hours. Jessica Lax, founder of the Otesha Project, suggested the group close their eyes and try to find a way to bottle up the energy generated by this week and preserve it for more lean times. Not moments after we had all closed our eyes, a someone began to softly hum, joined by another, and another, harmonizing to a peaceful rhythm. The throats grew in number and began to sing louder and more varied, waves of sound squeezed my head together and drew away, pulling the breath from my lungs in order to swell the group’s voice.
The group eventually silenced itself. This was quickly broken by, “Attention *garbled* on aisle three”, and that was quickly followed by giggles and laughter. Back to reality.
One Response to “Training week, Cont.”
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Not A Member? Register for Free!
Could almost hear your voice beating this out. What was the glass fishbowl? I have this image of the 30 of you suspended in a huge glass bowl over suspicious shoppers wheeling their carts nervously below.