As the band says, 'Two hearts beat as one'. Last night, I took a walk.
I couldn't stay in my current state any longer and needed to get out of
my dwelling and experience the winter night. My feet crushed the
squeaky snow beneath me in my bundled and appreciative state. I looked
up at the moon and squinted. Its brightness cast a movement over the
tides of my being. I ascended on downtown Port Hope on a thursday
night. The streets were quiet at 8:30 pm and without movement.
I began thinking about the concept of 'hallowed ground' or land which
has some sort of supernatural vibe. I thought about a place called
Camp IAWAH. I couldn't shake the thought. It was stuck in my thought
wheelhouse like a broken bolt. Off kilter but still spinning, nonetheless.
No matter what you believe about Utopian ideology, there is something
different about that place and folks from many walks of life have
mentioned it whilst gracing the grassy fields and glassy shine of
Wolfe Lake. I thought about the people that are in place guarding that
land and trying to do what is best for it - and how in many ways,
over 56 years, they have both succeeded and failed greatly. And
although, many will be the first to say 'people are people' and 'you
can't blame' or 'you haven't been around lately', with the exception of
1 or 2 folks, I have been around IAWAH for 30 + years - on and off.
That's a long fuckin' time.
And I suppose that in some ways, there is a symbiotic relationship
between myself and IAWAH and that will always continue to be that
way. There is a special quality that goes beyond words when I am
present there. It gets difficult to explain without receiving weird looks
but much like Frodo's fate was tied to the ring, I think that mine is
slightly tied to the Camp.
At its worst, it is much like anything gone wrong at the hands of
complacent and greedy people; structure-filled, protective, closed
minded, not cared for properly, squatted on, closed to outsiders,
clear-cut for more buildings, business savvy, etc.
But at its best - Oh man. He has shown thee what is good. Kids
from any financial status can come from horrible homes and
experience nature and acceptance in a life-changing manner.
Good food can be consumed by many hungry masses (made ready
by a crazy but lovable Newfie Chef.) Still and calm morning
water can be sat beside, reflecting the phoenix of the sunrise.
Loon calls can serve as a sleeping aid. People can play ridiculous
and childish games in a massive field and experience unadulterated
joy, free of substance or artificial stimuli. Lazy kids experience the
power of a hard days labour either in a steaming dishroom or
a blazing hot field with a mower (or a fecal-filled wash-house with
a mop.)
I thought about all these things and on a very cold night, I felt
warm. I doubt if I'll ever be back there in any long-term capacity
but I visit it often enough in my dreams. Fields of long grasses
leading to water and bending in a hot, June breeze. I smiled
and walked up the steps to the Beamish.
As I reached my destination in downtown Port Hope where many
bodies were huddled inside over pails of stouts and ales, I looked
up at the store beside the pub I was headed to and it read:
THIS OTHER EDEN
