a fin de cuentas

When all words are said and done closure and an end comes. Gracias and Thank you to each person who has visited Salon~unidad over these past two years.

I began this blog to commemorate a special friendship, my brief time with Alberto Replanski and lessons learned at Living Stone Studio.

As of the end of this month October 2010, I finish posting. I will let Salon~unidad be, eventually in good time I will remove the content and delete the blog.

Further installments of A Liger‘s Tale and CSL Files 217 will continue to be published elsewhere.

It has been a worthy and wonderful adventure to use this blog as a means of expression for my own words and many words of other people, some of whom I know personally that have come along my path.

Thank you, Gracias and Merci— for visiting and for reading ~ Erika

The Process

Chris Sauter

Underground shifting

At a cafe today in our Village, I was catching up with online digital tasks since the last two weeks I have been driving off Lulu Island to Annacis Island to attend piabschool.

POW is a program for women who are interested in the trades. PIAB, UA 170‘s private school provides an opportunity for women to succeed in a career of their choice within the piping industry by offering excellent training in a supportive working environment where only 4% are women.

From the get go I knew I wanted to weld. I still have 4 weeks to go and everyday I ask myself: is this what I want to study and work at in the years to come?

At Bean and Beyond in Steveston, in between checking websites and waiting for data transfer I read ART revolution by Lisa L. Cyr where she writes about transcending boundaries:

“From 1908-1914 two pioneers; Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque worked collaboratively in search of an alternative form of expression, a different approach to seeing and interpreting the world. With their efforts, Cubism, an artistic vision that allows for multiple  viewpoints to be shown simultaneously, was born…..In addition the Cubist movement gave birth to a more tactile approach to picture-making….under Cubist theory, pictorial reality became multidimensional expressed in multimedia format.”

I used to chide myself severely for not ever settling on a particular medium. It seemed I could not quell the desire to join together numerous elements to make a picture. I understood Marcel Duchamp‘s, Nude Descending Staircase since I had experienced fragmentation, culminating in 10 moves by the time I was 13. So Duchamp’s depiction captured well-known feelings that I had contained for most of my childhood. That life was dubious and unstable accompanied by a haunting notion of unpredictability.  Searching for meaning in a world of chance occupied me which later helped develop full-blown existentialism that I chose as my world view for a period of time.

Underground shifting is about perceptions in motion where things are placed in a random order to create something new or unknown. It is subjective to the last degree which is largely what gives it appeal. I end up feeling that when change occurs in life it might look somewhat like this. Non-sensical and heavy laden with meaning with an inkling of nothing in particular at the same time, it is somewhat unsettling as change takes place and often mentally painful.

With 13 other women I sit in the shape of a circle to redefine or refine a path, a way that I have been going. There are individuals I have met at the school that have given me a strong sense of wanting justice in the labour movement for men and women and have acted according to their convictions to achieve lasting change. I am challenged and inspired to look further than my immediate path by listening to a person’s story.

At the end of the day it may not all make sense like Underground shifting yet what is important is to stay on the path even if you are on the loose shoulder slipping a little. Eventually you will notice an order occurring and you will hit a point when you see clearly an isometric design in the midst of frayed disorder.

Chinese Laundry

“Do you have a price list” she asked

“No, no price list” she answered, the beautiful launderer’s eyes sparkled with curiosity and a snicker escaped her shy smile.

The environment was pleasant enough. Live plants in the window and comfy sofas made it feel like a corner of a neighbours living room for your laundering pleasure. Stacks of laundry piled high in plastic bags lined the back wall. By weight the laundry told the launderer how much it would cost. It was a secret in the end since 1 extra short-sleeved tee-shirt with a couple of pairs of socks and two long johns would break the bank for some in Nimato Village.

Nimato Chinese Laundry was an original from way back. It had been owned six times over by Japanese, Chinese and Philipino and Malay families for the last 25 years. A succession of immigrant families had exchanged and washed their hands of the establishment usually owning and running the joint for an average of 4 years.

Benji was watching the ceiling fan as Ricka wheeled the weeks laundry in. It was the first time they had tried this laundry mat and Ricka was grateful for the overhead fan that kept Benji transfixed and stuck to one spot while she separated the lights from the darks, Benji got down on his knees on the dirty tile floor directly below the fan. It had a hypnotic effect on him like the wipers on the bus and the large brushes at the local car wash, his focus was acute when it came to movement and spinning objects.

“Benji love, get up off the floor it’s dirty, go sit on the sofa” she told him.

He remained silent. His intensity caused Ricka to look up to the fan to see if there was something she could see that he was seeing she wanted to understand his fascination with movement. The fan spoke a low drown as it turned, until it came to a slowing pace and then to a full stop.

“Gone” uttered Benji. “Yes, all finished” replied Ricka.

Benji’s attention was caught again by the dryers with windows that swirled colours around. He pressed his face up to the glass and said:

“Ouch, oucchhh, ouwwwwy, look” he said. “Mummy, look”

Ricka was busy shoving in the darks and lights into the last available washers.

“Man it’s busy here, does everyone come to Nimato to do their laundry on Mother’s Day, holy cow” she felt tired….

The trek downtown to ‘Small Talk’ on east Cordova took it out of her most weeks. It was a 2 good connections and a skytrain away from Nimato Vil. She had gotten used to the sporadic service from Nimato to the DES.  Following through on what she knew was a good thing for Benji she packed a bag with everything each day and dropped him reluctantly. Every time she walked away from him she cried. He waved goodbye through a tiny window and she pretended to be happy and smiled at him until she couldn’t see him anymore.

Passing the usual characters on Cordova Street, Ricka walked to the bus and hopped on drying her tears. Today off to the workshop on ‘assertiveness training’, which she had little desire to learn about. It was easier being quiet as a mouse and lurking in the shadows than having to to deal with people and their demands. She thought that being assertive meant being someone who was mean and selfish. Ricka felt this one didn’t apply to her but she did it anyways reluctantly.

“Benji no love, shoes off sofa” Ricka chimed. “So-fa, sssooo-fa, sooooooo-faaaa” mimicked Benji

Benji would latch on to her s’s and would perseverate and echo back to his Mum the sounds over and over again. Ricka learned this was called echolalia, and it was one of his favorite pastimes, a constant repetition of everything spoken echoed back to his Mummy.

Ricka flopped on the comfy sofa and Benji ran towards her full tilt. They giggled together while giving each other a big hug. His cheerfulness and energy gave her a momentary lift. She stared at the TV and felt a little comatose, the weight of her tiredness was getting the better of her.

“6.00 dollar pease” said the beautiful launderer.

“I only have 4.50, can I come back with 1.50 tomorrow?” asked Ricka

“Ok, you leave 1 piece of laundry and then pay me back” she said

“Yes of course I will, I promise I will come back tomorrow before you close to pay the rest.” Ricka replied

“….and don’t forget money for soap, ok” she snapped. “Right” said Ricka

“So that is 3.50 you owe girl” she quipped

Ricka turned to go to find Benji who was glued to the dryer watching the colours swirl. He moved his hands around tracing the shape, cocking his head to one side.

“Mummy look, rainbow” he said excitedly

“Yes Benji a rainbow, how beautiful” said Ricka

“Bootifool…..” Benji copied her word.

Benji took his Mummy’s hand as they began to leave the chinese laundry, Ricka turned back to look at the beautiful launder and said:

“I will come back to pay you, I promise I won’t forget” yelled Ricka

“I know you will, you good girl” replied the beautiful launderer.

Art lesson 101

Alberto said that people talk without saying much. As I perused twitter last night, it seemed so. Sometimes I wish we lived in a world where there were more pictures and less words.

Words produce noise, noise gets in the way of seeing and hearing. Many days I only want to meet with silence.

Alberto listened to people, he listened to empty talk and words that seemed full of promise. It was best to wait and see what words would reveal of a person, whether they were interested in art, the value of it, interested in what he was saying in his work.

To the individual artist what matters is; that people give us a chance to speak through our art. When we give time to listen we are demonstrating our interest and intention. When we demonstrate our interest and intention we are giving importance to a person’s story thereby acknowledging that there is value and meaning to their existence.

Designo

“….to emphasize drawing and line (designo), above the use of colour (colore)”

“In the end learning the language of colour is really about learning to see”

—Phillip Ball, B R I G H T  E A R T H, Art and the Invention of Colour

Merchant of Beat

Ode to Art and Music come to Steveston, done to a rap beat—kind of talking and singing at the same time while groovin with your body

Happy Saturday Frankie!

I think you are the merchant of beat

Cannery music made me feel real sweet

I want to collaborate with you and others

Music, Art, Dance, Theatre for lovers

With a little bit of wit, time and money

I think it will flow like the River honey

I wonder how I can contribute my time

To something so wonderful and fine

CSL Files 217, [2.03] After thought

“They say the Irish are head strong. But I prefer to say heart strong. I’ve never been to Ireland but my name, Maude-Regan is pure Irish! I figure that is why I always have little ditties playing in my head that I want to rhyme together into lyrics because I can hear music playing buried deep inside from ancestors past. I think there is physical genetic rendering, music is in the Irish”

My after thought is: music and love go together they are of the same substance. That’s why people fall in deeper love when they remember a song connected to a particular memory of meeting a special someone. You may fall in love with a person, fall in love with your work, or the geography and culture of where you live.

In studying physics I have come to understand the most important thing is to embrace contradiction and chaos. Since we would rather move away from c & c like a magnet in the opposite direction the interesting thing is, if we pay close attention—we are drawn back to the thing we are moving away from.

“Know that I’m not talking about erotic, romantic love but the substance, the matter in you and me that keeps us living and taking breaths everyday that drives you like an olympic athlete to the gold

When I came home from Cabo San Lucas I began to notice fear and anxiety loosening its hold on me. I accepted my perceived failures with new found delight and recycled all the past with the present to make something new

I guess that’s what love can do turn things old to new”

Post 212 Harrison

along the path you see feel hear otherworldly silence its the best kind of awakening because its real not fake beside Harrison Lake you make a vow-promise to be true to only you

do you think this selfish honest or redundant perhaps it is more than anything an encumbrance  since your own self the lure

that’s right it is you all new not blue a hue that perhaps once flew the coup a long time ago

like magic returned and learned along the path you see feel hear otherworldly silence its the best kind of awakening because its real not fake beside Harrison Lake

The snake said nothing

Understanding the enemy

The enemy without My reader Murali from India tells the story of a girl who decided to climb a mountain to visit her grandmother. It was pouring with rain, a cold wind was blowing, and thunder rolled at each second. When she was almost reaching her destination, she felt something brushing against her feet. Looking down, she saw that it was a snake. “I’m almost dying,” said the snake. “It’s very cold and there’s no food up here on this mountain, please protect me! Put me under your coat, save my life, and I will be your best friend.” Despite the storm, the girl stopped and began to reflect. She saw the snake’s green and gold skin and told herself that she had never seen anything so beautiful. She thought how her classmates would envy her if she showed up with a snake to defend her from everything. Finally she said: “All right. I am going to save you because all living beings deserve care and affection.” The snake became the girl’s friend, served to scare aggressive people at school, and kept her company on lonely days. Until one night when she was doing her homework and she felt a sharp pain in her right foot. On looking down, she saw that the snake had bitten her. “You’re poisonous!” she cried. “I’m going to die!” The snake said nothing. “How could you do this to me? I saved your life!” “On that day, when you bent down to save me, you knew I was a snake, didn’t you?” And he slithered slowly away. ~Paulo Coelho’s Blog

“Me gustaria ser pintor”

Living Stone Studio

We come to the studio to rest and make art….it is not a sausage factory!

~Alberto Replanski

It is a kind of luxury to have a ‘place of one’s own’ to create, to take time to make art. As artists often we have a driving need to produce. If we have not made anything lately we feel unhappy or worse like fakes.

So we go to the studio to make things.

To susurrar our own intentions, our own truth of where we are in our art making for better or worse can free us from a self imposed exile. Riding the wave of the creative spirit is a perilous el viaje at times.

It is like being on a small raft that you’ve fashioned out of raw materials that you are not sure is going to hold together, you are floating down the fast and furious Fraser.

You have no shelter no protection. Absolute energy is mandatory to navigate uncharted currents. The elements can be friend or foe at any given moment. It’s unbelievably exhilarating and hell at the same time.

You gravitate to it and then you correr (run) away from it as rapidly as you can. Welcome to the artist’s life.

Expresar

happy days

I remember the feeling of swinging, it was always such a expresar of freedom. Once you got on there you felt that everything else melted away. You were allowed to be totally in your body feeling the movement, the dizziness and the utter happiness of full out swinging.

Best of all you knew now how to make yourself swing. You had learned how to pump your legs and then you tried variations of it by standing tall on the swing and pumping with your whole body. And you felt on top of the world.

The freedom of being a child is to expresar.

El agua

Liquid

Force

Rapture

Steady

Lonely

Steel

Fraser

River

Shape

Destiny

Solace

Solitude

Silence

Meanwhile down in Van @ the Pendulum Gallery

RareBirds_MediaRelease_June09

Nothing short of magical and fantastik

The show, the pendulum, the women

The camino, the way to it

Rivets welds strong hands

Oil oxide stone and steel foundary craftswoman assemblage

~Sandra Bilawich~Fia Cooper~ Stefanie Dueck~Tam Harrington~Corrine Hunt~Mimi Law~Amber Lyn~Sage MacGillivery~Lori Mairs~Claire Murgatroyd~Nancy Smith~

a thousand thank yous

A Fine emerging

I like pioneer women like Georgia O, Fine Frenzy, Kate Bush remember her….women who go, start stay and end things. Look up and out and around and get on their horses and go. Every day it seems like there are not moments to waste. Life is going by quickly for us and our time is short. So we need to act swiftly yet we need to be calm, gentle and patient too. There is no secret formula for living some sort of good life.

There is now and then and el futuro though. I wish for courage for you and if hope be deferred then let it be so. It comes up and out of me for you and it comes at unannounced times and yes it takes me by surprise. I keep giving it back and over to the place I do not know in my waking life. I know it in my dream life and in the realm where mortals dare not tread.

All we need to do is ask and it will be given, raise a voice ask a question and it will be heard and answered. Courage and Bravery  c & b again….it is given….then received then practiced by the apprentice and then laid down over and over again. Everyday I remember you, I recall a time when you were brave if only in a distant dream. Yes indeed there was a time.

Soon in it’s right season a time will come again and be upon you and your emerging will gently flow to a place you did not know and it will be a gift to the world because you will be freed from a hostage heart freed from that frozen part.

24

Somewhere deep inside the cavern a tremor slowly rose winding upward to the place where small cracks and eruptions begin to leek out. It came without forewarning everytime. Minding my own business I was enjoying the long awaited moment with an new old friend when it started.

Within the space of 24 hours I was in hell again.

Load the trigger get your gun reach for the handle. Fight it or fly or hardest yet remain glued to where you are, still, wrestle and prepare for combat with your heart.

Earthquake tremor a ground swelling opp abounds before you have time to think and lo and behold you are in a stand off. Much like the ones in the wild west down south. Southern Tucson purple hills and big sky country surround while you face the enemy.

There is a beauty about the moment. You wonder how passion can exist so equistedly with danger ~ fear abide so closely with desire. This is the moment you have waited for and your heart is a fury flurry bound looking fear in the face while holding onto heart preservation at the same time.

Preserve….are you familiar with the word with the action with the force that commands Preserve for those who hang on? One day you may have the opp to become familiar with Preserve. Like a buoy in the water bobbing constantly up and down and by its nature refusing to stay beneath the surface is Preserve. It reserves while it preserves and it surrounds while it abounds.

White water caps roll waves thrash here and there and the Preserve is fastened to your raft. You know the little one floating down the Fraser.

Uneqipped for the journey ahead learning to navigate as the moment dictates. Nothing no fisher man or woman has not experienced….

Gracias

Kopio before it was the Blue Canoe corner

Im happy to know there are a couple of people visiting me

Gracias and thank you for stopping by

A note about coffee

Before I grew up I only drank tea, before I met the Workmans I drank tea mostly, before I was a mother of 3 boys I drank tea and ate toast alot…infact I still do …but after I met Alberto, after I worked at Starbucks and after I started to hang at Steveston Coffee Co and Rubusto… I started to drink dark strong coffee and then it turned to americanos, that was the same year I worked at Phoenix Art Workshop

Whenever my sister visited me from NFLD she didn’t know how I kept up with the children so our code word was destination coffee

Women who Weld

Women who get their hands really dirty, who turn screws, weld and take risks to use their muscles and their bodies to make their art are my kind

Working with materials that are hard, substances when manipulated magically become beautiful but not without blood sweat and tears. The strong hands have to do with pioneering, striking out into the frontier, out in front going forward into new territory

There are giants to slay battles to be fought, lost and won. That’s why I choose to morph into someone like Lara Croft and I want to drive a volkswagen beetle with special features

Remember the film Flashdance? Well that was informative for me. She danced by night and welded by day

In my case I design by day, weld on weekends and dance anytime and drink cups of tea in between 2 americanos and then later I enjoy some vino with or without friends

A Liger’s Tale, IV. Kiera

Kiera

So it began.

Kiera learned she was summoned to the monastery’s Other room which represented, The forth power: Time.

One fact remained she knew the name Ciara whom she was named after was an Irish saint who established a monastery at Kilkeary in the 7th century. Hmv began telling the story.

A carpenter and his apprentices were traveling through the province of Qi in search of building materials. They saw a giant tree; five men holding hands could not encompass its girth, and its crown reached almost to the clouds.

“Let’s not waste our time with this tree,” said the master carpenter. “It would take us forever to cut it down. If we wanted to make a ship out of that heavy trunk, the ship would sink. If we tried to use it to build a roof, the walls would have to be specially reinforced.”

The group continued on its way. One of the apprentices remarked, “Such a big tree and no use to anyone!” “That’s where you’re wrong,” said the master carpenter. “The tree was true to its own destiny. If it had been like all the others, we would have cut it down. But because it had the courage to be different, it will remain alive and strong for a long time.”

The master spoke this story through silence Kiera listened ears forward eyes fully open. She stood still~ difficult it was. Today extra effort. She understood without words exhanged.

Often timidity got the better of her today she felt strength within.

A Liger’s Tale by Erika Koenig is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.5 Canada License.
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A Liger’s Tale, i. Kode

kaleidoscope

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Path

Path

This one is winding and circular.

Kites fly in its middle and it is surrounded by water.

It has small grassy knolls.  I meet my friends on the path.

It is my favorite place in Steveston.

As fate would have it

some of us were lucky we found our hearts down by the river in time

others left their’s behind they were found on the shore with various pieces of debris which had washed up from the river

there was sadness cuz he knew they had forgotton or lost them so the River Walker went to the Buck and had a few looking to find those ones who were true

Photo credit: kaboodle.com

in the gathering there was one or two who recalled a better time ~ suddenly a hush came over them and with that another round ~ “life is good said the River Walker slapping them on the backs, he exclaimed F—k yeah! I wouldn’t have it any other way and I think you guys would agree with me so let’s drink up and enjoy the day ‘cuz I have a feeling it’s easy to go the other way, if you catch my drift – LOL”

A Liger’s Tale, V. Left in a muddle

Kiera had been walking all day Chronos had suspicously left her hanging again she hated that. It was time to rest.

Images reminders of scents and sounds came, she was waiting for it all to fade. This piece would not exit from her the ache became a dull pain the longing become a wound covered over and all words still would not go.

She wanted a clean understanding that bled no more. Better to have desire fall or be rekindled than be in this terminal hell. Unrequited love sooner or later would step aside and a signal grace would appear like lines in the sky or drops on the ground.

Her foolishness haste quandry and silliness would halt she reckoned, she knew better not to deny the knowing of the heart. Cutting out the wound was not safe. Protecting it would be best. It was her own lack of judgement that had caused the wound it was hers to sort out.

The Foundary was only a day’s journey from ’The Desert Rose’. The gypsum rock that was like the alabaster she loved. This one was different it had become a monument to one of the legendary masters whom locals claimed had lived just before the greatest time of his life.

If only she could hear a susurrer once clearly perhaps it would set the course for the path ahead.

Away to the river to the place where all things are found safe and sound

Surely upon her arrival at the Foundary there would be food and drink.

Yet her thoughts still wandered to envison what her protection would be made of. Only the finest metal would do and she was determined to discover the elixir that none had yet found. Her dreams were filled with the form her protection would take slowly the materials would come she trusted and with the acquired elixir.

She had heard the news… the ‘Invisibles’, Verve, Vigor, Vicious, Vigilant and Valiant were journeying onward Yol’carn’s words were true, this she knew. Chronos had given her the knowledge that it was only a matter of time. She winced, Chronos was a trickster she took his words with a grain of salt but was still careful to attend to the matters Chronos presented to her. In previous days she had learned the hard way, “was there ever a easy way with Chronos” she wondered.

Gathering her senses and waiting until stillness passed she remembered that Chronos would not leave her forever surely the muddle she was in would soon be behind her.

A Liger’s Tale by Erika Koenig is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.5 Canada License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at www.erikakoenigworkman.com.

A Liger’s Tale, VI. El sueño del diálogo (the dream of the dialogue)

Photo credit: cats-chitchat.org

In the dream the dialogue came, slowly at first and then with screaming clarity.

“But I’m in training to navigate the I don’t knows as they come and go” !

Hardest part Hmv says: “Success will come in time but not without struggle, then one day you will wake up and move things that you could not before”

“I feel so unequipped for the journey, I’m learning to navigate as the moment dictates” she screamed in reply.

“Good that is your work for today, now go and drink a potion that is made from white fruit made by Kings River, but remember to moderate your toxins, you have a long journey ahead of you”.

“Yes master let me learn as a child and let me be happy in doing so” Kiera left the room annoyed.

La ventana et  la persiana were still. She listened for any movement for a la manera de andar. El Bajo was sleeping. With a soltero descision she reached for el valor. One of the close cousins of the ‘Invisibles’, Valor would be roused but not without preparation.

“Fine all right then, I will do as you ask” she was talking to herself now.

El Bajo was right all along. She recognized that every affirmation given was with respect and good intention. El Bajo was not master but friend along the way. She knew El Bajo desired the best for her, in this she sensed his care and with that knowledge came a happiness. This was the preparation for el valor.

“Now rest and be still go into el futuro, because all things will unfold as they are meant to” echoed his words.

“I will”, she said.

Yol’carn’s councel observed the strong link that Kiera shared with El Bajo. As Kiera gathered knowledge she bagan to unravel the gift El Bajo gave her. It was something like a young happiness, sweet, tasty and joyous. In return her strongest desire was for El Bajo’s release from the place in the desert.

However this would happen was un gran misterio. Deep within el corazon not a day went by without susurrer palabras for El Bajo. It felt a gift yet carga at once and daily she disciplined herself to leave it to YHWH~el universo

A Liger’s Tale by Erika Koenig is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.5 Canada License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at www.erikakoenigworkman.com.

A Liger’s Tale, VII. Yol’carn’s Farewell

Original art work by Julie Larm, 2007

Yol’carn fought ferociously the power within to leave the Abyssal Plains and move on to the Isle of Wan.

‘Choose now and swiftly without thought for el futuro.’ she heard within.

She accepted the challenge and in the blink of an eye went forward, adelante. As a healer she was well familiar with the tides of change and evolution within the mind and body. And now it was her turn.

It was the portal that presented itself. Yol’carn in her wisdom was accustomed to openings, to doors that opened with exacting pressure. For years she had worked with and observed it in humans and animals. Not afraid any longer her wings unfolded slowly and now with an exactitude that enveloped her.

‘Oh how I love to ride the wind, you can’t take me I’m free’

The song etched into her memory rose with the opening of her wings. Movement, generous, wide and circular her entire being took the shape of an energy that exceeded any form she had known. Like a child in a playground clumsily at first and then with steadiness Yol’carn galloped until her wings took flight with effortless rhythm.

Yol’carn nearly looked back for a moment, leaving behind associates in wisdom, apprentices in training and friends she turned resolutely looked straight ahead, head erect and wings in full flight she recalled saying

“It is yours, your Life as it is mine she told her apprentices, you must take hold of it and not be afraid”

Excited, the Blue Stallion flew along side her she knew the way and he followed and within a short time they landed on the Isle of Wan. Their colts were already there, Yol’carn and the Blue Stallion flew to join them. As she touched the earth on the Isle of Wan, which was accustomed to mortals than flying horses, Kiera appeared in her memory.

One last time she saw herself speaking to Keira:

“This is your time do not be afraid accept your nature, if you fall to temptation to deny it, you will forever be a slave to that which is not your own”

These were the last words spoken to Kiera and she had listened intently. Time was cut short with ferviente words, with delight Yol’carn recieved the unexpected gift. Kiera’s words were spoken to Yol’carn,

“Spread your wings and without further fragmented thoughts prosper so many will seek your guidance”

And with that Yol’carn belly laughed, knowing the truth of Kiera’s words they were as a catalyst that ignited her fire and she rose without look back up towards the Isle of Wan.

A Liger’s Tale by Erika Koenig is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.5 Canada License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at www.erikakoenigworkman.com.

skyline

Steveston skyline III

home is best for you to rest to open your eye to see the sky to know where you have been

tomorrow will come without much thought the rest will appear in a dream

open grassland open sea rough river burrow deep inside of me

Im living to love and loving to live the people the land the river the sea so with passion type materials, heat metal oil, steel & stone Ill find a way to bring all things together light as a feather what matters will happen Ill see to make it so

this poem is not a limerick nor could it ever be cuz the wit is out the window the reason off to sea

In the end Id rather be poor eat less and live here to adore all that’s been given spoken and said through history laughter and lore

A Liger’s Tale, IX. Kiera and Enna

Kiera with Enna

Everyday we sat together and after playing in the grasslands, we would clean ourselves because the rough blades and burrs would stick to our coats. Enna and I were close like an extension of each other we observed, listened and waited together. That was most of our day except when we got sidetracked by a snake, spider or worse those horrible creatures that are not a bird but act like one –bats (murciélago)!

In my personal opinion I would venture to say YHWH-el universaro made them for torment. Let me tell you why.

‘One night I was sleeping, which is unusual for me because Im normally up at night. It must have been the day that Enna and I had traveled the longest we ever had. I was exhausted. That night I felt disturbed in my sleep by a draft and by a scritch-scratch sound. At first I ignored it and didn’t think much of it. But as I came back from sleep I was hit on the side of my ear with a leathery wing. It felt like a flap of skin that was alive. Fear arose within me not knowing what this creature was and half asleep I reacted, recoiled, then I got angry.

I roared, got up and threw myself against the side of the cave, As propelled myself forward, I was thinking; surely whatever this creature is, it will move away from me.  It went—but not with a flurry nor without a fight.’

murciélago

Enna says,

“Bats are confused, that’s why they behave so, they are not sure as to whether they are a creature of the air or land”.

Night into day was a welcome moment let me say. Fact: the bat is nocturnal, is it insect, bird or mammal? Precisely, I am confused about this creature. No wonder it is so erratic in its movement and ways ie. hanging upside down! This is a childhood story.

“Where is Enna now I wonder?”

Since she moved to the nether reaches (my name for the Calattin Region). I have not seen or heard from her in far too long. I know like any proper Liger that she is ‘roaming’ fulfilling her destiny. I have always admired this in her. She came into her destiny early, discovered and acted upon that which was rightfully hers. From an early age she took hold of the Matrix, being the formula of her destiny.

“I was naiive, unaware of the Matrix, yet she knew and journeyed steadily onward in it. Naiive, gullible and unknowing. That describes me then and now”….

“You cannot erase history Kiera and you cannot undo what has been done” she heard Enna’s sussurar (whisper).

Very well, with pity and many tears Kiera accepted Enna’s words which rang true like the bell of the foundary tower of her childhood. The sound of the bell triggered the odour of the grinding metal and all at once she was certain Chronos was tricking her again. And so she remained in el presente patiently expectant of the arrival of the sextant made of alum-ore.

“Matrix is the tool given to Enna, mine will be the sextant” she quietly mused.

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A Liger’s Tale, XI. I find the map~enter Rhea Phoenix

With some luck, space and time I will find the map…. I will have enough sense to not act in haste. Speed is my enemy it causes me to make further mistakes than I’m aloud in one day….

“How many blunders are you allowed” asked Rhea, “ad infinitum my lovely” Hmv replied.

“Oh I see, you mean to say as many as I like until I krack the Kode?” guessed Rhea.

“Yes that’s it, now you are on to it, you are becoming wise my apprentice, and I am happy with you” he said.

“But if I make mistakes in the same way over and over how will I ever Krack the Kode?” asked Rhea.

“That my darling is the mystery….” said Hmv

“That’s why I love you master you keep me guessing, yet you are kind, thank you” replied Rhea.

“Now go and beware of the Bluebeards of this world for there are many” he warned.

“I will remember your words but let me see what is behind the eyes of a stranger, friend or lover so that I may be wise” said Rhea.

“You will, since you so desire it….” he promised.

So Rhea ventured forth tired, weary yet a little lifted by her exhchange with Hmv.

I wish he was still here I miss him so, felt Rhea.

At the very least I have been given a encouragement and stern warning that is worth something. It is better than not being given anything at all. I will rely on this as good and when I encounter silence or strong words from strangers, friends or lovers I will be mindful. I will not take their silence to heart nor will I interpret it as a sign of some sort. I am so sorrily worn out by the goings on around here and just because I have a brain that detects gesticulation in others doesn’t mean I’m giddy.

There are so many parellel stories being lived at the same time that sometimes I just cannot bear the weight of it all. I wish I did not have this brain sometimes, or this feeling heart…. yet I know for certain that I cannot turn away from either for if I do I will go back to the deepest darkest dungeon and then who will give me the key to get out, is there even a doorknob on the inside?

I want to go far away from the parallel stories I want to be rid of them. With a little help from wise ones, sages, and gentle elixirs a clearing will come I know it. I can feel it in my bones! Oh did I really say that! Do not mention this to my man Blue it will give him further reason to lock me up in his secret room.

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Triple D

not DQ dessert not sweet nor fruity

not Purdy’s dark orange liqueur nor Japanese brandy early

neither here or either there

still empty soundless white grey space

for acedia’s depression becomes obsession

without a face we lose our place

on our knees in the deepest darkest dungeon

enter into the labyrinth of despair

circling wildly hopelessly in prayer

crying and speaking that we might be heard

Shieldmaiden (woman warrior)

And each man kills the thing he loves,
By all let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword.

by Oscar Wilde from (The Valkyries)

Valkyrie in Norse mythology “chooser of the slain” is one of a host of female figures who select from those who have died in battle ~Wikipedia

A Liger’s Tale, XII. Kompact Kargo

It had been long in coming the sextant made of alum-ore had finally arrived. Heart rapidly beating Kiera held her breath and opened the crate. She had expected not to be able to lift it herself but to her surprise it was astonishingly light, well designed kompact kargo.

It came with a traveling case and a complete repair kit, instructions for use and a concordato (a treaty-agreement). The ingenuous design allowed it to fold in two and tuck into a velvet traveling case that measured eight inches wide by twelve inches tall. Feeling relief Kiera took three long breaths while she let her eyes and hands take in its exquisite beauty. Its form, functionality and design excited her.

The altitude of celestial objects now would be measurable not to mention the angles between objects on her nautical and aeronautical charts.

Altitude and latitude was what she was after. More importantly, the sextant allowed direct observations of the stars and celestial beings.

“That was all that I asked for the sextant made of alum-ore, gracias.

I must not forget in my forgetting or I shall never attain the elixir, its funny how you remember at times of forgetting and that you forget at times of remembering!”

She held deeply onto the knowledge that the elixir would restore her remembering since this was the key to el futuro remembering the past and emulating the journey of those that had gone before her. Keira’s mind stirred and slowly a image appeared with a memory of a kind of knowing.

The image pulsated revealing a lion with a tiger. A particular purr resonated in their chests with deep breaths the cats closely sensed each others presence without any physical touch. The sound was gutteral not harsh, ancient yet soulful. A primal stillness kept company with their breathe as if at any moment a revolution from within were to begin a long held fascination with each others species that would cause each to enter fight or flight….

“Ah–now I see and know the instrument is mine to use rightly to measure the distance between me and you…I will not give up my chance to remember where I have come from and where you are going”, she mused.

“Testing the authenticity of the image now will be given to the next leg of the journey….”

Kiera was well familiar with rogue images which were as clever as any rogue mortal. Combining the elixir with the sextant’s methodology would give her the answer. Closing her eyes she saw the now distant image fading it was only a matter of time until it’s authenticity would be verified. The concordato would be followed with the exact prescriptive.

“There will be no second guesses since the use of the elixir’s chemistry will only allow for one resolution, one chance to know the identity of the image bearer–of this I am certain since Rhea has taught me so” Kiera giggled.

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A Liger’s Tale, XIII. Suited Up

“There is no better time than now–precisely, wonderful, done”, Kiera thought.

The Foundry was open from sun down to sun up, closed in the day and working and active through the night, she liked this. Incredibly, it was happening again as she approached, the visceral response to the odour exuding from the Foundry.

It took her back to the beginning as always yet here she was coming full circle back to el futuro,  to the Foundry for her suit of armor (armour). She understood the process of extractive metallury was lengthy, but well worth it. All it entailed was for the metal to be converted with either oxide or sulphur, from ore the extraction came chemically or electrolytically. Ionic bonding had always fascinated Kiera, that is, the bond formed by the attraction between two oppositely charged ions.

She called ahead to give forewarning of her arrival, remarkably cellular technology had advanced so rapidly in the last 45 years that animals used it as easily as humans, and liger’s at that!

Remembering vividly the time she called El Bajo to confirm that indeed the sextant made of alum-ore was hers, how happy she was to share the gift of that knowledge with him.

These days it was not a paw or hand held device it was an implant. Of late the implant had persisted to give her trouble, it was not always like this. There was a time when the implant was invisible to her eyes unfeeling to her skin. It had only been in the last 18 moons that there was agitation with it. Still she continued to make use of it for now, it was a convenience and a welcome one.

Kiera thinking…Metal: an ordered collection of positive ions surrounded by a fog or cloud of delocalized electrons.

The thought of it aroused shivers, a discernable physical luxury she relished each time she contemplated metal.

“Enough, I am going to be suited up and that is excitement alone for one day” she chided herself. “one last thought and this will be the end of it and then I will concentrate I promise Hmv….”

“The ‘beauties’….Metals and Alloys….they are in this order….

~aluminum~gunmetal~solder~antimony~iron~stainless steel~brass~iridium~steel~bronze~lead~tin~cast iron~magnesium~titanium~chrome~steel~mercury ~tungsten~chromium~nickel~uranium~copper~pewter   ~white gold~cupronickel~platinum~zinc~gold and last but certainly not least silver”

“….very well done, now go into the Foundry they will be waiting for you.” said Hmv.

Food and drink, refreshment after the seditious journey was at hand. Best of all the suit, her suit custom made to fit with the utmost precision aligned to every contour of her body was awaiting her arrival. She would not be disappointed, the Foundry never duped its own.

One last look behind her, the sun was down, the gates open to the city, into the lovely Livan-drea, the sounds of the Foundry drew her into the night of her suiting the time of the quickening of Kairos. Night light surrounded her entry through the city gates, past the positioning perils–there was no movement in their presence. At this she took note and said,

“Gracias” to valor, vigilent and verve, passing the first level she continued onwards. “That was easy….”, she reckoned.

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A Liger’s Tale, ii. Kode

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studio

I once met a longshoreman who was done with boredom he lived in three cities at the river by the sea

Inside a studio adorned with fountains a place where you will see the lovely distant mountains

He waited there until the salmon were in season then promptly moved out so I could live in Steveston

A Liger’s Tale, XV. Apprentice

In the evenings it was complere (fill up).

A filling up before the end of the day. The last ritual before night dreams. Rhea fully expected Kiera she sensed her entry was eminent. Rhea hurried ‘fini complere, finish the filling up finally’! After sun down there was no food, except for Kiera! The taking in of words ‘the filling up’ sung or spoken interspersed with voices that echoed through every chamber.

It would take 8 minutes to walk to the Foundry from the Monastery she saw herself already taking leave.

Visioning herself running towards the doors of the Foundry to greet Kiera.

She closed the book impatiently and looked to the Northex,

“Right finish already” she thought.

Dismissing herself in haste she left and walked quickly onto the cobblestone streets of Livan-drea. The stones were wet and as usual it required all of her agility to balance on the uneven stone. She had not been given the physical gift for nothing. She used it well.

“Balance, concentrate, centre….” Rhea remembered days upon days long passed in the studio where repetition was the order. “Again, again, 5 times 7 times–clap clap clap”, Madame yelled.

Quicker and faster until her heart beat so fast she felt that it would burst within her breast. Walking the beam, the tightrope lengthening out while engaging the core of herself, she loved the feeling of the contractions, the power in her muscles that enabled her to bailer.

“Oh to move with an exacting pleasure, is my happiness” Rhea’s feelings spoke to her. When she danced her intuition was at its keenest. This was the beauty of the art form.

“When you train the body you train the mind” Madame says. “I will as I have strength to train this body….” echoed Rhea.

Livan-drea was lively with night light, shrill with the call of the merchants wares. The night market was just beginning and Rhea took the shortest route to the Foundry so that Kiera would not be waiting. Rhea loved this medival city with its many doorways and footpaths to shops and grottos where tables were set for ‘co-horts’ (socials), those small groups ‘….yes they were chemistry holding a recognizable identity’.

The gatherings of mortals and animals, and with hybred creatures that defied definition. Rhea was glad that she had been given a liger, correction–ligress now, she thought! Generally they were good natured, sociable and even water bound! The rain didn’t bother them which was good since Livan-drea was in rain 7 moons of its 12 year round.

Keira

“Oh timid one, you have travelled so far and now you are at the beginning of a beginning do not doubt your suiting. This is what you were called to, quiet now….Hmv told you without words. Remember, remember the Other room where you have learned The forth Power: Time….” Rhea susurrer words for Kiera.

Kiera was ready for refreshment. El agua, some carne (flesh) but not too much. Her mouth watered as she craved the flesh, the taste of the blood on her tongue.

“Liger’s need meat and this one needs a good filling!” she muttered to herself. Where is coraje and valentia now she wondered, I feel them far away from me. “I need you I tell you I will need you….” uttered Kiera.

The need for carne, for food for el agua was playing with her mind she began to doubt, she was forgetting she was not remembering any longer.

“A suiting or is it a filling or is it….” Kiera fell unconscious and lay on the cold stone.

Rhea entered through the door way to the Foundry. Seeing Kiera on the stone floor she walked slowly and knelt beside her.

Rhea lay her hand upon her apprentice’s head marveling at the size of her skull caressing her ears and drawing a long line to trace the length of her whiskers.

She lowered her mouth to Kiera’s ear to susurrer the ancient word.

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A Liger’s Tale, XVI. Kairos: a brief explaination

“Kairos you are shifting changing and I cannot pin you down. I hope I never will. If I have you under my thumb then I will die of boredom. You defy description, but this I know of you—that for me, you are the discernable moment when ev’rything lines up ‘a time in between’”

It is the time when all and ev’ry little and larger thing feels seems sounds and fits right. Doubts and dilemmas have no weight. This is not bliss or magic please do not mistake it as such—

Kairos is an ancient Greek word meaning the right or opportune moment (the supreme moment). The ancient Greeks had two words for time, Chronos and Kairos.

While the former refers to chronological or sequential time, the latter signifies a time in between, a moment of undetermined period of time in which something special happens. What the special something is depends on who is using the word. While chronos is quantitative, kairos has a qualitative nature.~gracias Wikipedia~Rhea Phoenix for S

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K

“a passing instant when an opening appears which must be driven through with force if success is to be achieved.” (E. C. White, Kaironomia p. 13)

bollado

leading up to the beginning of the end of the beginning she broke herself on the craggy rocks pebbles stones the glass cut her and she bled all over herself

it was a unhappy day not quite what she had expected

but she soldiered and warrior~ed her way through a portal that called her into a destiny marked by a identifiable force within that she could not stop

it was the flow the stream that took her to the edge

excite~able, mall~able, sad happy all at once she believed herself to be closer to the truth than she ever had been and she was loving the river the wind the invisible

how did she get to the path to the golden divergent

chasing the invisible had always been the way known from the beginning of the beginning it would remain to the end of the end until the river beneath the river be found

frivolous forlorn a wee bit frantic she stood still and observed paciencia

~a gift given not a merit earned

what was

what was once stone

what were once tears

flow into the river

and wash away to sea

energy never disappears

it becomes redistributed;

tears turn into happiness

and negativity into stone

the day will come

when your tears and stone

merge into the qi

of the little dancer, E

raw

end of the deal

means

its not better than

a poke in the

eye

with a sharp stick

image the pain

of the poke

ouch

yes raw end

is worse

than the poke

if you are

wondering

about

launching

visit someone

who has

fought

hard

or

visit someone

who has

fought

hard

for someone

who could

not fight

for themselves

then

apply the

same

conviction-strategy

verve

vigilance

vitality

to where

you are going

whatever

you do

don’t

remain a

passive

indecisive

cuz

you

will

turn to salt

or stone

then they’ll

be no one

to phone

it will be a

very sad day

waiting

for

happiness

to spread

into

your

life

I

resolve

to be

resolved

faV last words

its all good

going

“to make industrial art—

fk the fk-ers”

terminado

Photo Credit: Danielle Hebert

done terminado fini complete

when your life was done I was undone I remember it all so quickly—so vividly your finish wrecked havoc

threw us into a sphere that we knew not

friends became friends and enemies

misunderstanding took over gone was the master

I will always remember your goodness to me in my life I point to your steadiness, your masterly ways that brought out the best in each of us at Living Stone Studio

I look adelante

Ever forward that is what you wanted that is what you understood for the artist “to make your way as you go”

In memory of Alberto

fold

up

all your laundry

again

evry time

you see

the miracle

its washed

its clean

even though

in between

you scream

so fold up

your laundry

again

steel

you are my friend I won’t pretend otherwise show me your ways

I am at your disposal you are not disposable to me so I will take you

and make you we will have fun and a go at alchemy

there

was not

time

to gather

ourselves

we just

stood

still

and

faced the

terminal

loss

of you

when a fish gets caught

a fish

gets

caught

in the net

it struggles

for its life

today I

enter

into the

stream

like salmon

in the

Fraser

I fancy to

fight

the currents

life in its

struggle

struggle

in its life

and that

is why

the salmon

tastes so

sweet

I

am

navigating

the currents

barely

narrowly

cutting my teeth

on the flesh

of

administrative

processes

I

seek to

gain what

I might

attain

A passport

to be in

the running

Milk teeth

are precious

yet

they must

go

firsts become

seconds

become lasts

and fast

the fury

of the Fraser

sharper

than any

razor

In order

to run with

the horses

you have to

learn the stride

and so

I entrust

my ride

with a certain

strained pride

to the Master

sandblaster

217

In the middle of a pile of paper

I remember a certain happiness

distant now closer

waiting to be clear

I watch the distant mountains from the place with fountains

open studio place aptly known by the lion’s face

Gaze at Goodness

If you keep

looking

at Goodness

you can’t help

but remain

open to

possibilities

Do not turn your

gaze elsewhere

For if you do

it will be like

Hallowe’en

All kinds of ghosts

goblins demons

and creatures

will assail you

It will be later

and you’ll have

spent a long time

mucking about in ditches

Stay away from that

narrow channel in the ground

Eventually you will be found

in the light

walking along upright

as you gaze at Goodness

listen

to the

water

at the River

sounds

wash

clean

evry

thing

mean

Women Welders

Line Up of Some of Women Welders Including The Women’s Welding Champion of Ingalls [Shipbuilding Corp., Pascagoula, Ms]., 1943

Photographer: Beebe, Spencer

Subjects:
World War, 1939-1945
Labor
Women

Arc

Out into the light the spots were black popping here and there.

I lifted my mask and got that ring around the head feeling. My hair pulled from the strap and I kept adjusting it while scratching my scalp. I felt fun, dirty, dangerous and neato.

Sparks ordinarily flew to the floor where the oil puddles had congealed long ago and were next to impossible to suck up. Sawdust or cat litter maybe would do the trick, and then I could figure out the way to lift up that poison. Solvent would evaporate in the saw chips so I would throw it in there any chance I had. Into a large metal trash container that in the middle of winter doubled as a fire pit.

As I practiced the lines I took extra care to slow down which is hard for me ‘cuz I seem to like to go quickly especially when I am excited. You see, I have a lot of energy and it needs to be channeled into lines or fillets, not the fish but the shape. Like I was taught, I went back 5 times over it. I mean I kept checking my work and even though it was tedium all I could think of was titanium.

Watching Tom pick up and weld without effort was like magic for me. I marveled at how all the guys were so comfortable with their tools. I had a slim hope that one day I would be too, not afraid of the arc or the spark and no longer silly about the heat. Gone were the days of being afraid to light the barbecue. Now I was lighting bigger and better things and it was a groovy feeling.

Once I knew a man who had the strength of patience like the steel he welded. He was a kind of master at slowing down. He worked with razors to perfect a surface he was capable of creating a flawless sheen. He worked alone and he liked it that way. He was able to sand like no one else and clear coat a finish to its end. He was very good at his trade, I told him so and then he felt happy and went home.

It’s been a little while now and I’m happy wondering if this is going to take me to fantastic places like public art or building scaffolding as high as the CN Tower! Imagination is good for soaring and at the arc of my inspiration the sound of the fire and heat met my desire and I danced, it was sweet.

On the flip side of it I figure I am a fool for such things. I will have to take every precaution to be safe and the only way I want to learn this trade is school. The shop guys will give me tips I wouldn’t learn in school but all the other stuff will have to be learned there. I beg myself to ask the question: why would you want to risk so much?

As I pondered my fate in this environ I took stock of the needed considerations, and let me tell you there are many. Upside and down the other side, I guess I was doomed to writing all the pros and cons +’s and -’s on a long sheet of paper.

So I began. Wishing I had the patience of the man I once knew I took off my mask and walked out into the light and it was there that I decided who and what I would become.

Thanks to Hawksley Workman for ‘arc of my inspiration’

exhume

metal scratch inside my head

I want only to go to bed

anger the rivulet into

the River
up and out of me

I seek to exhume you

balance is balance is starting

beginning again
over and over always forever

if you clamp down control

on a vice it will treat you

not very nice

you will want to stay inside a cave and spend your day having a shave

the mirror will be your best friend all said and done in the end—you see the dragon beast is real and he’ll do all and evrything to steal

fear mongers come out to play

the best way to deal is look and stay acknowledge the bugger is real straight in the eye face it trace it keep circling back

remember: you learned to ride when you were only five keep doing the shaky wobbly later today you’ll be upright on two wheels

better yet one

after you have afternoon tea and cookies you will see feel touch noticeable relief it will be ‘cuz you stood still then refused to back down

your spine column will be there you’ll have come home to yourself

and no one else

I had a dream

that the world wasn’t so mean and I found a place I could go to know gentleness and kindness sometimes it felt like the very geography I walked on was weeping I would press my ear to the earth and listen

don’t be fooled—gentleness exists in loving relationships kindness exudes out of people in their faces smiles and embraces you will know a tree by its fruit if it is sour or barren observe if it is good there will be fruit to abundance and it will be sweet

A Liger’s Tale, XVIII. The Timeline

It was not until much later that Kiera began her journey to seek out the one who would begin to teach her. She knew there had to be a place where she could learn so she left home. Her will drove her out onto the streets of Livan-drea, led by its current which was like a live wire under her skin. She could no longer stop the force of it or hold it back. Many have said over time that,

‘when the student is ready the master will appear’.

In and out of small grottos, up and down stairs, through entry ways and exits where long corridors were lit with dim light and filled with fumes, Kiera walked. Today the foundry was quiet yet it’s drone echoed deep within her. Before she stepped inside she stood on the banks of Livan-drea’s central mount and looked down the River south to see the outline of the foundry. It’s smoke stacks clear, the sleeping giant loomed large and did not recede into the background. It came ever forward while Mt Kab-ir formed a stunning backdrop of layers of frozen snow and ice with its pinnacle reaching just 1000 lengths above the foundry’s peak. Kiera’s insides warmed as she took in the black-gray patina of the foundry, even from this distance she could see the glints of copper and today the sun caught the jeweled windows framed by the impossibly intricate wrought iron work. The rust had formed so beautifully over the years on the those frames, she thought.

Turning North she walked not far to find a undistinguished building, surrounded by the trappings of the trade of the metal workers she climbed the steep stairs to the third floor where a door was propped half open. Patiently looking, she came across a character that welcomed her warmly.Was it that she knew him already, she thought?

“I know the purpose of his stride, I could have sworn that I saw him in the alley the other day. With the coming and going of many vehicles I remember a settling occurring. That is the moment when he morphed from animal to man. The settling must have happened in between the impossibly small walkway of the north path between structures. No, that cannot be right….why would he take such as risk….?” Kiera mused.

Gathering her confidence and putting timidity aside in the moment she extended herself to him. Hmv, the man had long since left the quarry and turned to designing monuments and entry ways executing each project with mathematical precision—his work set apart a building or a street corner. All day he was happy to assemble and deconstruct and then re-construct models and maquettes, his accent and countenance intrigued her and while listening she saw in him an earnestness that she had not encountered in Livan-drea for some time. Integrity was about him and determination to pass on his knowledge to anyone who would agree to be his apprentice. His kindness and bright humour caught Kiera and it was from this moment she recollected in hindsight that the relentless passage of listening to the River beneath the River welled up within her.

Within a succinct period of time there was a transaction that easily occurred. The formalization of an agreement between them that would be mutually beneficial for both. She was enthralled and he delighted. She began her apprentice listening to him for 39 days. Sitting by his side she watched the gestures of his hands as his eyes welled up with passion the lines in his face deepened, he spoke in two languages and revealed his Timeline.

Kiera wanted nothing else than to listen and watch endlessly day in and out. She often hurried through her morning disciplines in order to arrive earlier each day at his side. Compelling stories of events that dated backwards and forwards of time travel infused with rejection, loss, greed, indifference and betrayal. Kiera noted beginning and ending successes that stood as bookends holding the Timeline in its precarious place.

“I will act now and not remain silent any longer I will tell a story, a Timeline….I will whisper, and inscribe your words to me for myself first and then for any one else who is fit to hear them….”Kiera decided.

A Liger’s Tale by Erika Koenig is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.5 Canada License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at www.erikakoenigworkman.com.

‘D’

I am on a raft in the middle of a large ocean. There is no wind, days are hot and I am parched, days are damp and I am shivering. There is no fresh water only salt water. I have little supplies, I am anxious, sea sick from the constant movement. I see no defining shapes I float on a too small raft. Lurking about me are ocean creatures I am not familiar with. I am not sure what to make of them so I keep watching the horizon to see if I can spot some land. Still I see nothing and I have no sense of direction—I’ve lost my compass, perhaps it is in the bottom of the ocean instead of in my hand. I hold onto the raft, I struggle to hold onto myself.

CSL Files 217, [1.01] The sun from the south

Brighter days lay ahead, even in November….

The sun from the south beckons many. A place such as Cabo San Lucas. It hasn’t been too long now that I dreamt I went there myself. Yet the only thing I can remember at this hour in the afternoon is the glass bottom boat and while peering into the bottom of the one we sailed in to view the fantastic sea life below, I looked closer than I had ever looked before, there on the ocean floor, was my compass….

CSL Files 217, [1.02] To Cabo San Lucas or ‘Catch of the Ghost Marlin’

This time I was determined, it had taken me way to long to find it in the first place.  No more half-assed efforts of fooling around with tourists in El Squidroe and Cabo Wabo while exchanging travel stories and fateful nights at local pubs. I was done with that. I needed that bloody compass!

I gazed through the glass bottom boat that still afternoon, feeling a slight exhilaration. I looked closer than I had ever before, there, on the ocean floor, was my compass.

I was relieved the water was still today and with the quiet, I was lulled deep into my soul and brought down to a dream state or was it just the effect of looking through the glass that magnified everything below? Toward the water I peered and I found myself pressing my nose up against the glass wanting to feel the fish—wanting to feel myself within again. All that mattered were those silky bodies that eluded me just like my compass. They passed by silently in continuous motion while my compass shone with a brilliance I had not seen before. As if I was discovering it for the first time I felt a ripple of delight return. With the glimmering instrument came a small hope. It had only been seven days since I had descended into my own private hell.

Fish my favorite; the best sign—aka the ‘dooms day sign’, I call it….

If you are a Pisces you are doomed to a life of emotions and feelings that are so intense they want to burst out of you. Melancholy is often the close cousin to the intensity so you travel between the two poles drifting and riding currents and waves of e-motion. As in Physics where “a periodic disturbance of the particles of a substance that may be propagated without net movement of the particles, such as in the passage of undulating motion, heat, or sound”. Even standing waves are a “vibration of a whole system where some points remain fixed, while others between them vibrate with maximum amplitude”. Thanks, I could always rely on physics definitions to help me explain what it is like to be me.

I looked back to the man guiding the boat,

“You like those fish, don’t you” he said. “Yes”, I replied

I studied his face intently he seemed kind. Though I noticed that sometimes he went all quiet and would close his eyes as if he was going to a far away place, he must have done this many times before because it came so naturally to him. He sailed the boat with his eyes closed, he felt the wind on his face and slowly his lips curled into a relaxed smile.

The Cactus Club said that he was experienced at boating and fishing. He had come down to study the native animals and marine life of the region because he was a wildlife biologist but he ended up staying longer than the contract he signed. His quietness I didn’t mind because in between he would make me laugh with his wit, knowledge and humour and that afternoon it became like a balm for my soul. It seemed all was right with the world now. I was laughing in the Cabo sun, soaking in the paradise around me. Finding my compass returned me to my former tranquility which I had lost with the compass.

“Marlins….”, he trailed off. “I beg your pardon”, I retorted.

“I have known one”, he said seriously.

“What do you mean?”, I replied.

“Well there was a story in 2007 that said, marine biologists discovered a kind of living ghost — a giant predatory fish with a sword-like bill and a tail so blue it seemed to glow. The round scale Spearfish was documented just twice in the last century. Experts blame the case of mistaken identity, at least in part, on the Spearfish’s resemblance to the white marlin. It was in the news and everything on NPR as a matter of fact….” again he trailed off and looked towards Los Arcos, he was lost in thought.

“So what are you saying? Do you mean that you have seen one of those ‘living ghost’ fish?” I asked him.

“Ok, can you keep a secret? Not just a small one but probably the biggest secret you have ever kept.” he said.

“Um, well—I’m not sure. I guess so. Your secret would be safe with me since I will be leaving Cabo and returning north shortly.” I quipped.

“I caught one and…. I’ve seen the ghost marlin now—I have the gift”, his face was beaming with accomplishment.

“The gift…?” I said in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’ll give you a clue. We’ve been doing it all afternoon in between the quiet moments!” he spoke quickly now yet his voice was hushed.

“Huh?”, I was dumbstruck to what was he referring to.

I started to feel claustrophobic, I wanted off the boat now, was this going to get all strange and go sideways on me like that time I went to that wooden boat show and was forever trying to get away from the conversation that would never end with Billie Gibson?

“Laughing, you know giggling!” he said deadpan.

“I’m sorry I still don’t follow you” I said confused.

“This is the secret part now, are you ready?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“Ok, ready” I said hesitantly.

“The legend is that when you have caught a marlin and seen a sighting of the ghost marlin you are given the gift of humour then, you are able to make people laugh and giggle in a kind of supernatural way, anytime—day or night!” he said.

“Is that why that nightclub is called the Giggling Marlin?” I asked.

“Well, that story has circulated for a long time and I would say that establishment adopted the name after the legend. I mean who wouldn’t want to name their nightclub the Giggling Marlin!” he said smiling.

“So do many people know about this ‘famous’ catch of yours?” I wondered aloud.

“I only tell special people because most people cannot handle that kind of knowledge, you know the supernatural stuff and all. Of course whenever I start talking about it people think I’m a lunatic—you know crazy, nuts…. like as if all I think about are marlins…white ones, blues ones, even ghost ones…” he was a little quieter again and I noticed that we were almost back to town without even knowing that we had turned around.

We got back to port and started to unload. I asked him if he would be around since I needed a diver to retrieve my compass. He said he would be happy to help me since he knew the waters well and could tell that it was important to me.

“How can I pay you?” I asked.

“Would you go to the Giggling Marlin this evening with me? They have a great view of Place del’amour and they have this giant mural on the wall inside with the history of marlins and there is blue ones and white ones, black marlins and striped ones, ghost….” he noticed my face and trailed off.

I was feeling awkward now, I didn’t want to make this into a big deal. I took a deep breath. It had been a while since the last time I had gone in there. I wasn’t interested in meeting any local fisher folk. The Giggling Marlin was the place to party, every boat that came into port emptied regularly into the nightclub, somewhat like the Buck and Ear in Steveston.

I hesitated, he was looking off in the distance in that same way, somewhat contented with his thoughts yet patiently waiting for my response.

“All right, but only one drink, okay”? I said shakily.

“You do me honour, dear Lady” he replied respectfully.

So we met at the Giggling Marlin that evening. We put a timer on that he had brought, we timed how long it took him to tell me the entire story from beginning to end of the ‘Catch of the Ghost Marlin’! I remember giggling when he brought out the timer, since I was well familiar with them!

That evening I felt I had a permanent smile pasted on my face. My cheeks ached from laughing so much and from one glass of white wine I was flushed. He drank a beer from a local micro brewery called, Cabo Cabo.

“I want you to know it’s true, every last word of it!” he exclaimed.

I left the Giggling Marlin not long after, it had been a long giggling day and I was tired but refreshed from laughing so much. We agreed to meet at the Cactus Club in the morning about 10:30 am to set sail to find my compass but only after he had had his breakfast and Gazebo time, which until Cabo San Lucas he had never experienced. Now he made it a regular part of his day since in that place he always seemed to come out changed.

The man who was the wildlife biologist who was also into marine biology, walked down the pier into the night and I turned resolutely with broad strides back to my room.

Upon entry I struggled to find the light and hit my hip on the edge of the counter because I was moving so fast. Switching the light on an unusual reflection caught my eye.

There on my night side table was my compass, polished and shining and set carefully beside it was his marlinspike.

Observations on the perils and rewards of ARTMAKING

“Control, apparently, is not the answer. People who need certainty in their lives are less likely to make art that is risky, subversive, complicated, iffy, suggestive or spontaneous. What’s really needed is nothing more that a broad sense of what you are looking for, some strategy for how to find it, and an overriding willingness to embrace mistakes and surprises along the way.

Simply put, making art is chancy — it doesn’t mix well with predictability. Uncertainty is the essential, inevitable and all-pervasive companion to your desire to make art. And tolerance for uncertainty is the prerequisite to succeeding.”

From Art and Fear, David Bayles & Ted Orland

now

there

is no easy

if it pleases
you

try to come
to terms with

life being unfair
most of the time

work with that
find a way

perhaps this day

‘Olas de vienta’

Domenge’s carbon steel sphere is as unique as its negative spaces, which create dramatic view corridors to where the Fraser River meets the ocean.

“The place itself, it had to be something that reminds you of the waves of the sea, the waves of the wind and the waves of the intensity of life,” she says in an telephone interview from a Vancouver hotel.

—Matthew Hoekstra, Richmond Review, sculpture at Garry Point

del rio

Imashing

“Me…. I live for imagination in my dreaming. I’m looking to re-generate my imagination to use it for Good for people, for community, for telling stories, because I have to.  Mixing and matching and mashing, collaging my way to the end, that’s my thing. That’s re-generation how the rest happens is mystery” –Rhea Phoenix for salonunidad

Deconstructed boat

A Liger’s Tale, v. Rhea’s footnote

“Another day was rolling out before her [Kiera]. She faced it with the same giddy determination that she always had, even if it meant being callow~coming down a little more heavily on the side of immaturity. Scatty, kind, heedless, carefree; informal, flaky yet, responsible, in control of, at the helm, accountable and answerable, sweet, gullible, honest, overtrusting and dupable she journeyed head on into the hour after midnight expecting that an hour would feel like a thousand years.”~Rhea Phoenix

Post 200 ~ 19 years of smiles

at the end of a long chapter its funny how all the good rises to the surface in the wake of my Joshua turning 19 it seems and feels like more than a page has turned

you are the consummate mr smiley jkothephotoguy

who likes all things different you watch clouds wait for the clearing and then mark your time by reciting scripts from movies repeating words and choruses and printing in your cryptic way

so many years ago now you came along yet before you were born I gave you back to G-d, to the universe while I was sitting at the North Shore Studios in North Vancouver I would take two buses and a sea bus every day and you would be my companion hidden away

this day you are handsome tall and all smile Im remembering that you love dragonflies enchanted by bees and eggs to boot then all of a sudden you started to collect loot there were times of exhaustion times where I along with you we near you thought we would lose our minds and our selves all together we did not know how to live the autistic way so we molded ourselves to you and you to us and somehow we worked it all out with many people too many to mention in this post

slowly and faster you began to grow now you are the life of the party always have been as you have interpreted the world through a lens so fine in a zone that none of us have known yet we struggle to own our life that would not be as good as yours without you in ours

in between the folds pressure mounts try to fit the pieces of a life all together strain to learn the way to go let you learn in the moment and relearn how to do absolutely everything from scratch until it becomes a script then you memorize the steps the way forward in your innocent gentle way with a slice of sneaky pesky abilities amidst the disabilities you are not shy or sly but earnest and good—looking for all things yellow or white hoping to find at Garry a kite a bird a boat or plane

this is you of jko fame…..