Hacking Gavin's woodpile

Friday, ever popular and confident, swaggers in with sunshine in his face and the weekend in his back pocket. The colors along the lane leading to the freeway are all oranges, yellows, and reds, made fluorescent by the morning sun's backlighting.

One can be tired, stressed, worried, distracted, disquieted, frustrated, angry, or even indifferent, but in that singular visual moment when Friday works his magic with sunlight and color it is all forgotten. This is a living-in-the-moment gift, a being present present.

Just don't turn on the news.

And everywhere the free space fills
Like a punctured diving suit and I'm
Paralyzed in the face of it all
Cursed with the curse of these modern times
   - Bruce Cockburn, from Gavin's Woodpile

Living in the moment can be difficult, though, when the information rushing in is all so horrific and hard to fathom. When I feel increasingly disconnected from the society in which I live because the risen order of the day is ripping access to life itself, let alone quality of life, from so many while fundamentally reshaping our nation's evidenced values to reflect the narrow self-interest of a very select few.

I remember crackling embers
Coloured windows shining through the rain
Like the coloured slicks on The English River
Death in the marrow and death in the liver
And some government gambler with his mouth full of steak
Saying, "If you can't eat the fish, fish in some other lake.
To watch a people die -- it is no new thing."
And the stack of wood grows higher and higher
And a helpless rage seems to set my brain on fire.
   - Bruce Cockburn, from Gavin's Woodpile

Like many, I struggle to balance staying informed, engaged, and active with the earnest desire (if not need) to shut all the news out. I'm reminded of another Cockburn lyric (from Broken Wheel) that didn't pop up on today's commute playlist:

Way out on the rim of the galaxy
The gifts of the Lord lie torn
Into whose charge the gifts were given
Have made it a curse for so many to be born
This is my trouble --
These were my fathers
So how am I supposed to feel?
Way out on the rim of the broken wheel

and...

No adult of sound mind
Can be an innocent bystander

Then I see Friday morning sunshine glowing through fall leaves again as I pull into the parking lot on campus, like a magnificent stained glass window—only better, and I hear:

Rain rings trash can bells
And what do you know
My alley becomes a cathedral
   - Bruce Cockburn, from Thoughts On A Rainy Afternoon

Surely there is a way to reclaim that which should be holy from the dystopia of the, "...curse of these modern times." Breath in deeply and savor these discovered golden moments like a talisman, keep our focus on people always as distinct and unique individuals, and draw on this to champion the change we need and want.

Today's playlist: all songs from a Bruce Cockburn playlist

• Maybe the Poet
• When the Sun Goes Nova
• Thoughts On A Rainy Afternoon
• Stab At Matter
• Gavin's Woodpile
• Turn, Turn, Turn