This stopped me in my tracks.

amber_phoenix, to my delight, has been posting a lot of poetry lately. In fact, I bet she'll post this one herself. But I will too.

Man, I love Rob Breszny.

PRAY FOR PEACE
by Ellen Bass (www.ellenbass.com)

Pray to whoever you kneel down to:
Jesus nailed to his wooden or marble or plastic cross,
his suffering face bent to kiss you,
Buddha still under the Bo tree in scorching heat,
Yahweh, Allah, raise your arms to Mary
that she may lay her palm on our brows,
to Shekinhah, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
to Inanna in her stripped descent.

Hawk or Wolf, or the Great Whale, Record Keeper
of time before, time now, time ahead, pray. Bow down
to terriers and shepherds and siamese cats.
Fields of artichokes and elegant strawberries.

Pray to the bus driver who takes you to work,
pray on the bus, pray for everyone riding that bus
and for everyone riding buses all over the world.
If you haven't been on a bus in a long time,
climb the few steps, drop some silver, and pray.

Waiting in line for the movies, for the ATM,
for your latté and croissant, offer your plea.
Make your eating and drinking a supplication.
Make your slicing of carrots a holy act,
each translucent layer of the onion, a deeper prayer.

Make the brushing of your hair
a prayer, every strand its own voice,
singing in the choir on your head.
As you wash your face, the water slipping
through your fingers, a prayer: Water,
softest thing on earth, gentleness
that wears away rock.

Making love, of course, is already a prayer.
Skin and open mouths worshipping that skin,
the fragile case we are poured into,
each caress a season of peace.

If you're hungry, pray. If you're tired.
Pray to Gandhi and Dorothy Day.
Shakespeare. Sappho. Sojourner Truth.
Pray to the angels and the ghost of your grandfather.

When you walk to your car, to the mailbox,
to the video store, let each step
be a prayer that we all keep our legs,
that we do not blow off anyone else's legs.
Or crush their skulls.
And if you are riding on a bicycle
or a skateboard, in a wheel chair, each revolution
of the wheels a prayer that as the earth revolves
we will do less harm, less harm, less harm.

And as you work, typing with a new manicure,
a tiny palm tree painted on one pearlescent nail
or delivering soda or drawing good blood
into rubber-capped vials, writing on a blackboard
with yellow chalk, twirling pizzas, pray for peace.

With each breath in, take in the faith of those
who have believed when belief seemed foolish,
who persevered. With each breath out, cherish.

Pull weeds for peace, turn over in your sleep for peace,
feed the birds for peace, each shiny seed
that spills onto the earth, another second of peace.
Wash your dishes, call your mother, drink wine.

Shovel leaves or snow or trash from your sidewalk.
Make a path. Fold a photo of a dead child
around your VISA card. Gnaw your crust
of prayer, scoop your prayer water from the gutter.
Mumble along like a crazy person, stumbling
your prayer through the streets.


***

And--AND, I got this horoscope.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Writer Michael Tortorello has
complained about the "national delight deficit." My friend Lanny
bemoans the public's shrinking attention span for stories about
joyful events and satisfying breakthroughs. I myself have
marveled at the pathological tendency of many educated people to
equate cynicism with intelligence. It's in the context of this
stupefying collective addiction to dank moods that I give you your
assignment, Scorpio: You, more than any other sign of the zodiac,
are now primed to harvest an abundance of pleasure, mirth, and
fun. Please don't keep it all to yourself; try to infect everyone
you meet.


A-freakin'-men.

Banff: Day Two: "Is Hiking, Is Not Hiking"

Or, "I grow old, I grow old, / I shall wear three pairs of trousers 'gainst the cold."

Or, "Proof #368 That I'm Not an Athlete"

Day Two found me gettin' my butch on. I donned long underwear, a long-sleeve shirt, sweatpants, a sweatshirt, rain pants and a jacket. New Smartwool socks, new hiking boots. Big ol' gloves, neck warmer, ear warmers, sunglasses. Clif bars. All set.

D------ and I drove out to Sulphur Mountain, in Banff. We were to hike a fairly easy trail, about 5 km and 2000 ft gain in elevation, then take a free gondola ride down. Whee!

Did I mention it was the second day? Did I mention that we started at 5,600 feet?

Did I mention I've lived at sea level my entire life?

Now, D------ is a very experienced hiker, in all kinds of terrain. She's done most of the US national parks and the Inca Trail in Peru. She is Nature Girl.

I, on the other hand, am a wussy day-hiker.

So we started up the mountain, and really, it was a small mountain. The way up was all switchbacks, mostly at approximately a 30-degree angle or less, with the occasional 45-degree at the turns. But there were about six inches of snow, and it was slippery, and did I mention the elevation?

I wasn't aware, or had stupidly forgotten, that elevation can have such a profound effect. After a few minutes I was already quite winded. I was working much harder than it seemed I should be. My legs weren't tired at all, but I was breathing hard, my lungs were burning, and I tasted blood in my throat. In fact, after about 15 minutes, it felt like I had been running hard for that long.

Now, I've never been a runner. I hate running. Detest it. Five minutes of running and I'm completely wiped. I can ride bikes or walk for hours, I can do aerobics, but something about running kills me immediately.

ert loves jogging, and keeps teasing me to try it. I tell him that in high school, I had to do a track unit in gym where the goal was to run a mile. I had to run every day. And it never got any better. I just think I'm not cut out for it. (Anyone have any ideas on this? I've always wondered.)

In any case, I felt hot, I felt short of breath, sick, like I was going to pass out...and D------ sent me back down the hill.

Admittedly, it needed to happen. We'd only been at our living elevation for 36 or so hours, and D------ told me later that one needs 48 hours to acclimatize, every 2000 feet of elevation one gains.

Thanks for telling me! ;)

So I felt like a wuss for the rest of the day, went down and checked out the site, and the hot spring, and had a veggie burger and a hot chocolate and wrote in my journal a while.

Which was fine.

Later, folks came back from skiing and such, dinner was had, Ert and I took a soak in the jacuzzi, and the bed welcomed.