and then our exile

Hrm. That was strange. For half a day Blogger was dead...and is now resurrected. Hail the Blogger!

One thing that is shameful is that I've begun to watch my life through narrative, and this has begun to take over the life itself.
Usman was sitting on my lap when I wrote the previous, playing with a coaster made of cork and periodically punching keys on the keyboard. His eyes are brighter than any I've ever known.

Last night was Beyond. It's like I say this all the time, but it's just as true--more so--every time: a blazing moon, shining stars, sparkling snow, stark shadows... It snowed for many hours beforehand, but by the time I got outside (~10.23) it had stopped and made way for a sky that was entirely clear except for a cloud-bank on the Northern horizon. The fresh snow made everything that'd previously nearly been mud-brown once again pure, pristine... everything was dusted with this inviolate white, this virginal Essence. There is nothing so beautiful as wind-swept moonscapes when all the world except you and the coyotes is asleep and oblivious to the stars. In the short time_period between the cessation of snowfall and my arrival outside, two deer had already crossed the driveway. Investigating history is a passion, which is why I relish tracks. I buckled on wooden skis which are older than I, and began my night with a number of loops around our property. (You know the hill on the right of the driveway, the one behind the two spruce? It became my friend--with every successive trip down, the track became more established, zooming me along... the tinge of danger (turning to avoid crashing into the bush while going very fast while avoiding the spruce at the same time) merely adding to the exhiliaration of the night. It was cold enough that you had to keep moving to stay warm, but not cold enough to make you really cold, if that makes sense. The sky and indeed all the world seemed "washed"--totally fresh, everything distinct, everything swept by a lucidity of night, a clarity of vision. Circled around to the potato field in the back, precincts of bush as dark shadows wherein the looming daylight dies. Corn-stalk-skeletons rising out of a sea of white, twisted, beautiful echoes below. And then I went back to the house, saw the kitchen light on, talked to Ammi who'd gotten up to get Usman some milk, and went outside once more. Time: 11:00. Skied to the railroad tracks on the other side of Wye, and followed the snowmobile tracks parallel to them for about 2 km, wishing in my heart that the train would come. Noor and I always made a game out of it, biking to the---but that's another story. At any rate, at irregular intervals I'd turn back like the five-year-old I am, cocking my head to the wind, searching out the rumbles and wailing cry of an approaching engine (other than highway noise). And, glory be, when I was nearly at RR214, I heard it! and the glow of ultra-strong headlights on the horizon. I nearly jumped for joy--went back and forth until it arrived. I was standing about three metres from the tracks when the full glare of blinding headlights hit me as I waved furiously--the train-driver saw, and tooted it the horn just for me! I nearly jumped for joy again.
Yes. Trains are happy.
The tremors of sheer power as it whizzed past were vibrating in the ground, in my knees--I'd never been so darn close to a zooming train before. I counted 200 cars. Actually, I counted 201, but am sure I counted too fast.

Anyhow, that was my adventure. I then skied the 3km back and came inside, slipping into the house just as the clock struck 1:00, having travelled 7km on my own feet and pieces of wood with metal fittings. After eating peanut butter with a banana and doing other stuff, I slept, to be woken up by Usman four hours later--6:00am, and the world is born anew.

~~~~
Today has been split between schoolwork and trying to cobble together some sort of action for tomorrow night. Everyone I talk to says they can't come--how sad is that? It's either piano-teaching or choir-practice or a basketball game or youth council and homework or final exams or just plain busy or "what good will it do?" or washing the family goldfish or---okay, not washing the family goldfish. But still.
Well, boo to all those who don't come: I shall be there, all alone if need be, alone in a crowd of hundreds of military families and friendsofthemilitary and police and soldiers on parade and soldiers off duty and bureauratic dignitaries, alone with a message of NOT IN OUR NAME.

The Geneva Accord--"nationalistic apostasy", according to many Palestinians. I thought that was a good phrase.
Speaking of nationalism, thinking today got me to the conclusion that: "forget Islam--*Nationalism's* been spread by the sword". What say ye all to that?