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According to our weather report, it feels like it's 113F (45C) outside today. Um, wow. For this first time all summer everyone in our house can agree that it's hot. But don't worry heat-haters, in most of Canada you're never too far from winter.
It was not before the glow of morning and the first bustle outside his town house that he fell asleep, that he found a half numbing, an inkling of sleep for a few moments. And in those moment he had a dream:
Kamala kept a small, rare songbird in a gold cage. He dreamed about this bird. He dreamed that this bird, which normally sang in the morning, had grown mute, and noticing this, he went over to the cage and peered inside. The little bird was dead, lying stiff on the bottom. He took it out, weighed it in his hand for a moment and then threw it away, out into the street---and at that same moment, he was terribly frightened, and his heart ached as if, with this dead bird, he had thrown away all value and all goodness.
Jumping up from this dream, he felt a profound sadness. He had, it seemed to him, been leading a worthless life, worthless and senseless; no living thing, no precious thing, nothing worth keeping had remained in his hands. He stood alone and empty like a castaway on a shore....
Now Siddhartha knew that the game was done, that he could play no longer. A shudder ran through his body: inside him, he felt, something had died....
That same hour of night Siddhartha left his garden, left the town, and never came back. For a long time Kamaswami, who thought he had fallen into the hands of highwaymen, sent out men to look for him. But Kamala sent no one to look for him. When she learned Siddhartha had disappeared, she was not surprised. Had she not always expected it? Was he not a samana, a homeless wanderer, a pilgrim?....
When she heard the first news of Siddhartha's disappearance, she stepped over to the window, where she kept a rare songbird in a gold cage. She opened the door of the cage, took out the bird, and let it fly. She watched and watched it, the flying bird.
--from Siddhartha, by Herman Heese
The photo above comes from a taco blog, which covers the "Los Angeles Taco Scene":
http://www.tacohunt.blogspot.com/
Yes, we taco lovers are that into it.
Today is Canada Day. I'm not usually the type who pays much attention to the artificial boundaries of nation states (unless it has to do with the World Cup or the World Baseball Classic), but I have to say that I am proud to live in Canada, even though I'm not a citizen yet.
Canada is certainly not a perfect country (those born here tend to see this more clearly than I do), but in many ways it is trying to take steps in the right direction---such as offering health care for all, legalizing gay marriage, being open to immigration, being cautious about participating in the "war on terror," and many other things.
Perhaps these positions can be taken because Canada only has a population of about 30 million people and it is so rich compared to many other parts of the world. I think sometimes people here don't recognize the pressures and real dangers that people in other countries (including the United States) face which causes them to take the positions they do. But there is also something deep within Canada culture and heritage that compels us to err toward compassion in every area except the hockey rink. This tendency is eroding as Canada becomes ever more Americanized and complex, but at least from my perspective it is still pretty strong. This year, I hope to take the step to full citizenship and make a commitment to "stand on guard" for Canada and help build a culture of even greater kindness.
Did you know I will have to take an oath to Queen Elizabeth? Yes, it's true.