From the Desk of Murray Lincoln

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Happy Birthday Queen Fern… to a Woman that Gives

Happy Birthday Queen Fern… to a Woman that Gives
On this past Thursday evening we joined others in Kingston to honour a special lady – that is a “Queen” – an amazing Queen in her own right and realm.

Now the Queen of the British Empire known as ‘Elizabeth’ has nothing on Fern. Queen Fern’s influence goes way beyond what Elizabeth has ever done. I know. She is a special person that has made a big difference in my life. This posting is to honour her and tell a little more the hidden story behind the scenes. The story of Queen Fern.

In 1967 my new bride Alida and I moved to Fredericton, New Brunswick to begin our new adventure in the Maritimes. We had traveled to the Maritimes on our Honeymoon(September 1967) thinking that we might be transferred back to the West of Canada where we had come to. But instead I was transferred to Fredericton to take leadership in a Business Machine Office that served all the St. John River Valley from Fredericton to Quebec’s border.

I walked into a Department Store in downtown Fredericton to service a cash register. The cashier was a young lady that was very happy and bright. She was easy to talk to. I came back a few calls after that as the machine needed more service.

That young lady was Princess Fern. Not really a Princess but she is in my story today. She was instead a Bible College Graduate who was working in this Department Store to support herself while she was fulfilling her main reason for being there – working as an assistant pastor/worker in the local Pentecostal Church with Rev Clair Mullen, the pastor.

Fern was bright and sharp. It was fun talking with her… until I found out she was one of “those” kind of people. A Bible Person… yikes! A Bible Thumper… oh no! This was the last kind of person that I ever wanted to meet again. I hated these kind of people… well maybe “hated” is too strong. I just wanted nothing to do with them. I had watched their kind in the church that I grew up in way back in Regina… and they had turned me off completely… and I ran as far from them as I could get.

My running away kind of got me messed up with some not so good stuff that had a toll on my life and being. I am not proud of what I had done but no one knew. I could act out whatever they wanted me to be… anything was possible… just not the stupid Bible Thumper Thing. That was one thing I refused to be! I wanted nothing to do with those weirdoes!

Fern seemed so nice. Not like the other freaks that I had witnessed in church. She was friendly and even kind.

The story is too long to tell all…but we ended up starting to attend the little church. My wife was pregnant and I knew that a new young family, especially one with a child, should go to church. This church was not weird like the one that I had attended… not critical…not fighting… not doing the stupid stuff that the one that I had known earlier in my life.

Fern was involved and was the pianist for the church services. That was cool! She also introduced us to some neat, down home kind of Maritimers that were sometimes odd – but always were happy.

The little church grew on me… but I would have nothing to do with the religious baloney that was talked about. No matter how happy they were, how open they were… or how accepting – I didn’t want it. That stuff that was talked about was like the old church that I had come from – those people talked about it but seldom lived it.

Do I sound like I was turned off? You better believe it I was – yet I still came back. These folks loved on us.

Behind the scenes something else was happening. Princess Fern was praying for Murray and Alida. She was reaching out to us no matter what. And to put it bluntly my world had some “matter whats” in it that Fern couldn’t understand or relate to. But she prayed for me… and showed us her love.

That happened between November 1967 and March 1969. In March 1969 my company moved me to Oakville, Ontario.

It was in Oakville that I met another group of people that picked up doing what Princess Fern was doing. They kept loving us. They started praying as well... taking over where Fern had left off.

Between March 1969 and September 1969 lots of stuff was happening inside of me. The rough edges and the attitudes were changing. I felt differently for some reason. Alida was pregnant with our next baby that was to arrive in early 1970.

The story is too long to tell it all here. I stopped running from the feelings and emotions inside. I stopped and considered God as something more than the one that drove those old people way back in those first churches. I watched them act so weird and so unloving. I realized that He didn’t like what they were doing any more than I did. He was just as disgusted with them as I was.

I accepted God’s Son as my Saviour and it all started to make sense. I had a Royal Encounter with the King of Kings. “Whoah! That is too weird for me!” some of you have just said. Sorry I don’t know any other way to tell it.

For years of growing up I saw STUPID people act in really STUPID ways. Now I saw the reality of what love was all about. I saw how it all started with people like Princess Fern praying for me… it all made sense. What a plan was being hatched all around me! What a plan!

On this past Thursday night I stood in the Deny’s Restaurant to Bless Queen Fern. Queen? You see that is what happens to Princesses after years of faithful service to the folk that they have encountered over all the years.

Princess Fern went on to marry King Les Bath. Everyone knew him as “Pastor Bath”. King Les’ wife had passed away. He found Princess Fern and married her…making her his Queen. King Less had a sparkling family of very much alive kids! Queen Fern moved in and loved them with all her heart.

King Les and Queen Fern had a son of their own… Prince Timothy… who was the prime mover and shaker behind his Mom’s surprise birthday party last Thursday night.

Hey – I love a great story like this. And I specially love it in that I was one of the people long, long ago that the Princess had been kind to… and given her very best… to one really STUPID JOKER that came into her world. She loved him even though he was so far away from knowing anything about the goodness she knew so well.

Queen Fern cried when I told the story and I chocked back the tears as well. All because one person loved me enough to show that love and make a difference.

The Rest is History…
That was a long time ago. I was transformed and everything became new. I felt a deep call from the King of Kings to become something very different from what I was. Changes happened – lots of them.

The changes were so radical that in 1994 I was invited to become the Minister in the church that I hated the most as a Young, Stupid, Joker in the court. The same people were still there and many of them still had the same attitudes. Some of them still liked a good fight and tried to get me to get involved doing it all over again. But I was different than before. Before I would have taken their heads off with my words. Instead I simply prayed for them… like Princess Fern did…

Instead of fighting back, the King that I was serving helped me to love them. I needed a lot of help from him.

It took the King 25 years to get me ready for the last place that I was to serve in – Northview Pentecostal Church in Peterborough. From the minute that we arrived I could see why I was called. Some of the “dear people” in this church loved to fight and complain just like the church that I had run from earlier in my life. Some of these folks were classic examples of what not to be… but what better person was there to love them than some one who had been from of them… and came out of that CRAP.

And one by one… the King brought more people that were just like me into the church. No not just like me…but from similar… turned off and tuned out from the stupidity that we all once saw. And together we are growing in Grace.

Queen Fern… you are partly responsible… you started it all… one prayer and then another… mixed with a whole lot of love… and stuff happens! Real stuff… not the other. Thanks!

~ Murray Lincoln ~
http://www.murraylincoln.com/

Thursday, April 29, 2010

The Need for La Santa Muerte or Jesus Malverde

I am trying to understand who she is. She is everywhere in some people’s world. Her robes are white at times and other times a different colour. She often carries a Globe and a long handled Scythe. Her name can also be as follows according to Wikipedia…
Quote…
Santa Muerte is referred to by a number of other names such as Señora de las Sombras ("Lady of the Shadows"), Señora Blanca ("White Lady"), Señora Negra ("Black Lady"), Niña Santa ("Holy Girl"), and La Flaca ("The Skinny One").
End Quote..

Now the Lady of Shadows may not be enough to protect you, at which time you will need Jesus Malverde. Jesus is dead. He died about a century ago from what I found out…hanged by the authorities.

Different people need The Lady or Jesus from what I have gleaned. People in the night pray to these saints to keep them safe from stray bullets that fly from machine guns blasting away at enemies… or single gun fire that is openly used to ward off the horrible and ugly… or to take out the horrible and ugly. These bullets come through the walls and kill your babies as you sleep.

I have been shocked by the terror that has spread all across parts of Mexico where La Santa Muerte (Saint Death) is worshiped. In other parts where Jesus Malverde is sought out there is much more rampant drug control. From what I read Jesus Malverde is looked to protect the people that might be slaughtered by the drug trafficers.

It is very complicated to say the least.

How can it be that this state of affairs exists at such a terrible level?

Well it seems that the USA and Canada’s need for drugs and drug use has fuelled the horrific killings. The folk in Mexico are fighting each other to maintain the right to transport the drugs to us.

Our desperate need for more illegal drugs has fuelled the killings and nightmares. Our own Government has become more effective in shutting down the flow of drugs into our country forcing the people below the border to become more powerful and frustrated to get the product moving.

The articles that I read focus on the death that is taking place around the drug trade and movement. It is tragic.

However the need and demand for more drugs north of the Border with the USA and Canada has maintained the flow.

I can surmise from the events that are happening that we live in a very sick world. That is an understatement to say the least!

Now my grandkids are going to grow up into this world shortly. They will chose occupations that will encounter some form of this tragedy – or be affected by it.

That disturbs me deeply.

I notice locally that many people go to Cuba rather than Mexico now. I believe it is less frightening… and dangerous from what I read.

This other world of Saints and Protection of Saints is so far removed from my world. At least it seems that way. Why bother writing about it?

A police officer that deals with this kind of underworld drug trade told me that my city of Peterborough is the new pipe line or the regions drug trade. It flows up the “pipe” from Pickering, Ajax, Whitby and Oshawa… out of Toronto and other parts.

The drug trade has reached us locally. The police officer said fighting this stuff and its flow is like putting a tea cup under Niagara Falls to bail the water. There is so much coming that it is shocking.

Why?

Because people need it… demand it… and there is a market that is quickly growing.

I wonder how long it will be before we need La Santa Muerte – or Jesus Malverde?

My encouragement for you today is read more about what is taken place. Be aware… or become aware. It is serious folks.

~ Murray Lincoln ~
http://www.murraylincoln.com/

Source:
http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2010/05/mexico-saints/guillermoprieto-text
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Santa_Muerte

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Lois Gibbs – the Heroine of Niagara Falls

Misty Hollow Carving
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My Web Site is a like a Gallery – please drop in for a stroll through.

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(Post Script to the April 27th Posting – I didn’t die at 5 PM but lived to do more yard work!)

Today’s Blog Post

Lois Gibbs – the Heroine of Niagara Falls
Have you ever heard of Lois Gibbs? She is 59 years old now – does that give you a hint? Many that lived through the 1978 era will possibly remember her. If you were anywhere near the Toronto area – or Buffalo you would have heard of her. Any guesses yet?

If I told you she had a 7 year old boy in 1978 attending his school near by – would that help? If I told you that her younger child, a daughter became very sick along with her older brother – would that help? How about… they were becoming sick because they went to that school and also because of their house?

Still not enough clues?

How about… if I add words Niagara Falls, New York to the clue list? No? Then maybe if I add the words “Love Canal” – would that help?

Lois Gibbs was a shy and quiet housewife that had difficulty speaking to other people. In her early years she would be no different than any other mom that got her kids ready for school and then went off to do her thing locally. She was like other women at the time that were stay at home moms.

Lois Gibbs today is the executive director of “CHEJ” or “Center for Health, Environment and Justice”. It was first called “Citizens' Clearinghouse for Hazardous Waste” – which kind of sounded like they might be selling off Hazardous Waste of some sort.

She has received a number of awards and degrees for what she accomplished and is still working at. She has lost her family through it but remarried a supporter that continues to work alongside of her.

This week she has become another one of my heroes or heroines.

I just completed the reading of Niagara – A history of the Falls by Pierre Berton. Pierre alone was a Canadian Hero for me. His books were many… and this one may have been his last. He died in 2004 at 84 years old.

As I look back at the story of the Love Canal which was directly across the Lake Ontario from Toronto and Oakville, I am thunder struck in 2010 to realize that I was not that concerned for what was happening in 1978 – across the Lake from where I lived.

To bring it home a little closer, the water that I drank at that time was from Lake Ontario. And when you read the whole story of Niagara you will realize that not only was the Love Canal leaching tons of some of the most horrible toxins the world has known into the ground around it – it was also eventually making its way into Lake Ontario… YUK!

Between 1976 and 1978 a local reporter by the name of Michael Brown wrote stories about the tragedy unfolding.

But the Love Canal started much earlier than that…
Quote from the Wikipedia site…
“The name Love Canal came from the last name of William T. Love, who in the early 1890s envisioned a canal connecting the two levels of the Niagara River separated by Niagara Falls. He believed it would serve the area's burgeoning industries with much needed hydroelectricity; however, the power scheme was never completed due to limitations of direct current (DC) power transmission, and Tesla's introduction of alternating current (AC). Furthermore, the Panic of 1893 caused investors to no longer sponsor the project. Congress also passed a regulation in which water was not to be removed from the Niagara river because Congress wanted to preserve the Niagara Falls.

After 1892, Love's plan changed to incorporate a shipping lane that would bypass the Niagara Falls in order to reach Lake Ontario. He began to envision a perfect urban area called "Model City" and prepared a plan that called for the construction of a vast community of beautiful parks and homes along Lake Ontario. Unfortunately for Love, his plan was never realized. He was barely able to start digging the canal and build a few streets and homes before his money ran out. Only one mile (1.6 km) of the canal, about 50 feet (15 m) wide and 10 to 40 feet (3 m to 12 m) deep, stretching northward from the Niagara River, was ever dug.

There is little information about those who actually worked for Love. Historically, canal building was exhausting, dirty and often very dangerous. Immigrants were usually the workers selected to perform this arduous work and additionally, before even digging, all the trees and vegetation needed to be removed.

With the project abandoned, the canal gradually filled with water. The local children swam there in the summer and skated in the winter. At some time in the 1920s, the canal became a dumping site for the municipality of Niagara Falls. By the 1940s, a company by the name of Hooker Electrochemical Company (later known as Hooker Chemical Company) founded by Elon Hooker began a search for a dump to store the increasing amount of chemical waste it was producing. Hooker was granted permission by the Niagara Power and Development Company in 1942 to dump its wastes in the Love Canal. The canal was drained and lined with thick clay. Into this site, Hooker began placing fifty-five gallon metal or fibre barrels. This dumpsite was in operation until 1952 in which 21,000 tons of chemicals such as "caustics, alkalines, fatty acids and chlorinated hydrocarbons from the manufacturing of dyes, perfumes, solvents for rubber and synthetic resins" were added. These chemicals were buried at a depth of between twenty to twenty-five feet. In 1947, Hooker bought the canal and the seventy foot wide banks on either side of the canal. After 1952, the canal was covered with dirt and vegetation such as grass began to grow on top of the dumpsite.”
End Quote

From some where after 1942 when the barrels of chemicals started to leak until the 1970s… many people were dieing and the ones that didn’t were simply sick. The toxic waste leaked and leaked and leaked making its way to the river and the Lake Ontario.

And we drank it.

Pierre Berton pointed out that at Niagara Falls they have a regular service that pulls out the dead bodies of people that commit suicide by jumping into the river above or below the falls. Some are found others are not.
When they shut down the American Falls at Niagara the engineers found some interesting things in the falls path. The first was a body of man that was caught on the rocks half way up… then further down was the body of a lady. Both were possible suicides. If the falls had not been shut down for repairs these may well have been there until the natural process took place.

And we drank it.

Mind you Toronto and the surrounding areas are good citizens and simply put the water that they take out of Lake Ontario – back into the Lake a little further out. This is done so that cities further down stream can use it when it gets their way. And they can drink it too.

But before the water ever reaches Niagara Falls it has been used by all the cities along the Lake Erie an Lake Huron and Lake Superior for maybe years before Toronto gets it. It is the best filtered water in the world I am sure – both my human means and by mechanical means.

And we all drank it.

Now if you live in Saskatchewan or Manitoba.. or even Alberta – you should be OK. BC however.. you cannot be sure which bear used it first…

The more I think it through and ponder what has taken place around me… I admire Lois Gibbs and her people. They have done things the rest of us have never even thought about… let alone cared. We just drank it!

~ Murray Lincoln ~
http://www.murraylincoln.com/

Source:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lois_Gibbs
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_Canal
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_Canal#Early_history

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pierre_Berton

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

I think I am going to die today

Monday, April 26, 2010

Invisible Fences of the Mind and to Spurtles

Invisible Fences of the Mind and to Spurtles
What a delight to take part in a new adventure! I think the last time that I felt this kind of deep stirring was the night that we departed the aircraft in Nairobi, Kenya in 2007. We had travelled what seemed to a million miles from home. We were absolutely unfamiliar about our new surroundings and had no idea of the adventure ahead of us.

Come to think of it, I felt that too when I went to Irian Jaya in Indonesia just after the 911 tragedy in New York – September 2001. There was no way to know what was lying ahead of my life. That month in Indonesia was amazing – simply amazing…

I can only imagine the adventure that others may have been on as well – yesterday morning when we walked into the building at 319 Queen Street in Port Perry, Ontario. They were the ones that would be totally familiar with this place and had a great advantage over me. Yet they likely will be just as frightened by the possibility of me being in their territory.

I stood quietly listening for some form of life as we entered the door. One older gentleman came up to shake my hand and welcomed me heartily. Great start!

Question 1 that entered my mind… “Would they accept me, after all you are so very different than what they are used to?”

Question 2 that came right along… “How much will you and How far will you “Blow It Today” by forgetting what comes next in the order of what you will be doing?

Reminding myself that a great deal will be discovered in the first 15 minutes of my entrance, I took a deep breath. After all… when the stroke of 11:30 AM arrives later you will be ready to run, escape, hide, or just plain die – if you blow it or miss your mark this day….

No pressure there at all… none whatsoever.

But then Jesus has said to me “I will won’t leave you alone you big ninny… I will be there to pick up the pieces when you feel like throwing up or simply dieing on the spot!”

After walking around to scope out the land I slipped into a bathroom… oh boy… amazing… what a beautiful bathroom… accessible by everyone. And as I walked out… there is a brand new elevator – too cool – someone did a lot of thinking about this place.

Now I have led you on long enough… here is what is happening in my surroundings.

I am a Pentecostal Minister and have been for over 35 years. I am fairly free and easy in what I do. I can roll with the punches – go with the flow of almost any kind of freedom that may happen in a Sunday Worship Service.

And the church is St. John’s Presbyterian Church that has its origins dating back to just about 150 years ago. It has a strong Scottish history and quite likely some of the folks will have a fairly strong Scottish accent. And for sure they have a well laid out service order that is printed clearly for all to see in their church bulletins. So…. If the minister misses something or does something out of order from the norm… most everyone will notice pretty quickly.

They don’t know that I can be the “King of Out of Order” most of the time. In fact my major Degrees – Graduate, Post Graduate and Doctorate is in “BOOO” – that is “Bachelor Out of Orderness”. That is written this way but I tend not to write it out too often… “The Reverend Murray Lincoln, BOO, MOOO, and PhDOOO.”

The sign writers seldom get it correct as they are laughing too hard when they try to apply their brushes to their work!

The Choir assembled in the anti room just off the platform, robbed and bubbling. I prayed for them and me… and they led us from the room to the platform.

Oh no… I forgot… there are two pulpits on this platform… a left and right… which one do I use? I quickly whispered to the friendly Choir man walking just ahead of me… “Where do I sit?”… he countered in his whisper with a grin… “The one on the right…”

Deep breath now… smile… enter gracefully… no panic…

Holy Mackerel! The church is 3/4 Full !!! Did they hear that some funny things might happen this AM in Church? Gulp… sweating just a little more now I seated myself gracefully on the apparent Minister’s bench behind the larger pulpit.

Too cool! The Elder rose to do his announcements and lead the first part of the service. Then he had everyone stand as the Holy Bible was carried in and placed in its special place of prominence.

The Service was rolling… look at the bulletin… they have given you the hints… follow them… be cool… what can go wrong… this should be easy… stand up slowly… knees stop knocking… now say, “Good morning it is good to be here with you this morning”…. Easy now… this is their first time to hear your voice… they are adjusting to your accent… now… begin… “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all” I said…

Whoa! They all came back heartily… “AND ALSO WITH YOU!” and they meant it!

Pentecostal won’t do this… they are still talking to each other at that point!

If you played the “William Tell Overture” at that point you would have heard what I was hearing inside my chest – it was my heart beating to the Lone Ranger Movie theme!

The hour flew by… I loved it. The people were responsive. They are amazing in their singing and worship.

I felt at home in this service in every way. I must have been Presbyterian in my former lifetime… I fit here! And I love it…

Now I know that my writing may appear to be too light hearted today… maybe even foolish to some… but that is what happened. It was wonderful… and these people are just great!

OOOPS…
I did forget one thing. There was a funny thing lying on the pulpit. It looked like an IPod of some sort… with a chord on it. I moved it aside when I began to speak.

The kind lady at the end of the service came to shake my hand… as she held that funny thing in her hand. “Did any one tell you about my husband’s hearing device… the minister puts this around his neck so it picks up his voice…?”

“Oh no! I am so sorry. I didn’t know what it was for” I responded.

Her husband was standing with her… and shook my hand. “There is no problem. Today he said he heard everything well.” And then she smiled.

With The Reverend Murray Lincoln, OOO, MOOO, and PhDOOO having his own built in amplifier… he didn’t need his hearing piece.

Spurtles? What is a Spurtle?
After church was over we walked around downtown Port Perry. I happened into the Wee Tartan Shop. I discussed the possibilities of them needing some of my wood carvings like the Celtic Love Spoons.

The kind lady was excited and asked me if I made “Spurtles”. Then she explained that it is what Scots stir their porridge with in the morning.

In Saskatchewan we called them a “Fish Bonker” – but if you want to make porridge with is – no problem.

Yep – I can make a Spurtle. Anything is possible after the morning service that I just attended… absolutely ANYTHING!

~ Murray Lincoln ~
http://www.murraylincoln.com/
Source:
http://www.seafoamwoodturning.com/Shopping/spurtle.htm

Sunday, April 25, 2010

In the stillness of an Afternoon

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This BLOG is sponsored by “Misty Hollow Carving”. You are welcome to visit Misty Hollow and see all of my carvings.

My Web Site is a like a Gallery – please drop in for a stroll through.

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Today’s Blog Post

In the stillness of an Afternoon
The magic of the moment was spell binding. As we walked hand in hand we heard the first strains of the pan pipes drifting our way. It was amazing.

How do you possibly capture this moment? How could you bottle this opportunity for others to hear and sense.

Suddenly as my wife and I were walking toward the source of the sound we were whisked away to another place in time. Our feet were crunching on the grey gravel of a magical path in Guangzhou, China… no longer in Peterborough, Ontario but rather all the way around the world. As we had walked by the still pools of water with the large Gold Fish swam quietly below the lush green foliage over hanging their liar.

The moment had transported us to the small pagoda that sat in the centre of the garden with its round doors and still presence. All around the pagoda were the lush vegetations of almost every plant that was ever created.

We sat on the large, carved rosewood chairs near the marble topped table and listened. Not far away was the call of small bird that was clear and crisp. Answering that small call came another chirp from the other side of the pagoda… then a different one. Then all was absolutely still… until the soft strains of the pan pipe came across to the pagoda. It had woven its way through the bushes and the hanging tree branches softy and tenderly, spilling over the water to our ears.

The stillness, the lush vegetation, the sound of the small birds that seemed to be everywhere, all bowed to the sound of the pan pipe.

Leaning a little to the right and looking through the window, past the large ferns hanging there, I caught the image of a person sitting near a quiet pool. It was an older man with his wooden pan pipe held to his lips. The only motion was his hands as he moved the pipes left and right finding another place to blow. The strains of the pipes filled the air.

As we listened to the man playing, a beautiful young lady dressed in her silk embroidered tunic brought us the brown, clay pot of hot tea and the small cups that matched. I can smell the tea now as I write… how sweet and fragrant it was…

The taste of the tea, the stillness of our surroundings, the sound of the pipes being played… mixed with the sites of the garden… was overpowering… and so wonderful… I savour it again this early morning.

From the third paragraph until now… of this article… it was 26 years ago when my wife and I sat in that pagoda together and filled ourselves with the moment.

WOW – what a feeling….

The first two paragraphs happened yesterday… right in the middle of the muddle of a Saturday in Peterborough. That happening is what triggered the memories of 26 years ago in that beautiful Tea Garden in China.

Alida and I had to adapt a planned outing for “39 The Second Time” that was to happen yesterday morning. Because of death many of the folk were helping at the funeral lunch afterwards. What was going to be a picnic for the 39 TST was converted into a smaller hike in Jackson Creek Park. Our plan was to walk to the “Cedar Cathedral” as I have named it… then sit and enjoy the reverie.

For non Peterborough folk, Jackson Creek Park is a place that has been set aside for all in our community to enjoy. From the small park there is easy access to the walking path that winds its way toward the next town, Omemee. The flat path is the old railroad bed that has been worked on to provide a beautiful escape from our busy city and life.

Even parking in the small lot lets you step away from the Saturday rush up above. From the car park to the reflection pool you begin to drop everything of the baggage of the previous weeks and days off. When you step on to the covered bridge the world behind lets go and you leave behind the other stuff that has kept you from this world.

As we stepped off the bridge on to the grey gravelled road, our feet made the stones crunch… the bird to our left were calling the ones across the reflection pool. The air was absolutely still… Then a duck quacked on the water. It was at that moment that the sounds of the Pan Pipes drifted our way across the reflection pool. I leaned a little to the right and caught a view of a man sitting on the bench beside the still water… he had the Pan Pipe up to his mouth and from it came the most amazing music.

As we walked by the man and listened, Alida squeezed my hand and said, “This is just like China… remember that time in the Tea Garden… wow…”

We walked on listening. The sound followed us… skipping in and out of the trees with their budding leaves.

To our left the small creek bounced over the stones and from our back the Pan Pipes played with the quite spaces.

We were quiet beside each other as we held hands… the Pipes… the creek’s babbling… the soft sound of the stones below our feet… then the birds again… calling over and over again.

It was pure magic… stillness that we had not experienced since last fall’s walk in this place. The creativity in me was flooding back to full again… oh how I needed that moment.

Within about five minutes we arrived at our Cedar Cathedral. Nope – it is not a church like some may be thinking… it is just a special stand of very, very high Cedar Trees that must be at least 60 feet high… as big as the trees in our front yard at home.

Stepping off the main path it is sombre… a new quiet… a stillness and there is no sound under your feet. The softness of the years of dried Cedar scales cushion your feet. A mere 100 feet is the babbling brook again… laughing now as it trips and skips around the stones, under the logs, between the little islands…

This is the Choir singing… continually… unsupervised or conducted. It is loud and it is soft… in perfect balance at the same time. The harmony is amazing – not just in the sound but also in the whole of the scene that is surrounding you. Each Cedar tree stands solid… the water babbles and sings… then there is the absolute stillness pressing in around us.

As we sat on the large stone together we listened… The Pan Piper was not there any more… just the amazing song birds singing their solos in the Cathedral.

It was at that moment that I realized a new thought… this place has been here since the start of time. No one has ever built on this spot… it is completely a virgin track of soil…

Certainly if you listen with a good imagination you can hear the old Steam Locomotive that puffed through here many, many years ago… but that is gone too…only memories fill this place.

There has been other people in this place though. “Late Nighters” likely… a camp fire lays still with some rascals leaving behind a broken bottle… but when they left silence stooped to clean it up…

We sat for a long while… and talked quietly. At the edge of the brook three ducks worked the weeded areas, shovelling for food below the surface.

We made plans to come again and bring 39 TST… who… for individual reasons… they couldn’t make it this time.

As we started back to the main trail heading home again… the sound of the creek came and went… kids played in it… and people with dogs walked by us.

But… there it was again.. the sound of the Pan Pipes. The old man sat on the same bench playing. At the moment we walked over to meet him… he was speaking with a young lady.

I asked him of his Pipes… “Where did they come from?”

“This one is quite old… it is my Romanian Pan Pipe… and this one is a few years newer – it is from Germany.” His hand held them tenderly… and his fingers ran over the surface lightly. He explained that their curved shape was designed this way so that you did need so much movement to get to the next note.

I was spell bound by his explanation.

I shared with him about the Cedar Cathedral and how good the sound might be in there. He had not heard of it yet… nor been there.

As we walked away… the Pan Pipes came alive again… with the sound spilling across the reflection pool again…

“Amazing Grace how sweet the sound…” was clear and sweet throughout the park……… Never have I head it played better…

~ Murray Lincoln ~
http://www.murraylincoln.com/

Source:
http://davepighills.stormpages.com/
http://www.panflutejedi.com/viking-pan-flute-tutorial.html

From the Desk of Murray Lincoln

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Happy Birthday Queen Fern… to a Woman that Gives

Thursday, April 29, 2010

The Need for La Santa Muerte or Jesus Malverde

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Lois Gibbs – the Heroine of Niagara Falls

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

I think I am going to die today

Monday, April 26, 2010

Invisible Fences of the Mind and to Spurtles

Sunday, April 25, 2010

In the stillness of an Afternoon

Saturday, April 24, 2010

“How Old Would You Be If You Didn't Know How Old You Are?”

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