This Morning's Musings

Do you think blind people dream, Ms J? Seriously. I mean, if a person is blind from birth, they have no visual concept of anything. Right? So how can they dream without "visions"? And while we're on that strange subject, what about deaf people? What do their thoughts sound like? If they've never experienced spoken language, then how can they formulate a thought? When I think something, Ms J, I "say" it in my head. What if I didn't know any words? What would my thoughts "sound" like?

I know. It's been a weird morning.

Canadian National Railway announced huge profits recently. Bigger than expected. Up more than 10% over the same quarter last year. And they want to take our jobs away. December 18th. I try not to think about it. Ten percent more profit. I wonder when they'll be satisfied? How much is enough?

I watched the sunrise today. I adore sunrises. There's something magical and awe-inspiring in a sunrise. I don't experience a sunset in the same way at all. Oh sure, it's pretty. But a sunset doesn't hold the same spiritual meaning for me.

As I watched the lake give birth to the bright orange disk, I marveled again that it was a new beginning for me - for everyone. A fresh start. With each new day comes another opportunity to get it right. And I felt so filled with joy, I nearly laughed out loud.

For a few miles east of the city, the train tracks follow the shore of Lake Ontario. I always enjoy that portion of the trip. There's so much to see: Beaches, now deserted for the season. Tree-filled parks and paved bike paths. Joggers clad in shorts and t-shirts, their breath visible in the cool morning air.

This morning I wondered what it might have looked like there before we changed it all to suit us. How might it have looked to the countless generations of Aboriginal peoples who cared for and about this area? I imagined wildlife - deer, fox, lynx, mink and marten. Wolves, maybe. Or coyotes. Beaver and muskrat. Porcupines. Raccoons. And birds. Great flocks of birds that might nearly have darkened the sky. Gone now, nearly all of them. But we have our lovely parks, don't we? We have our homes and our cars. And our trains. And our nuclear power plant across the bay.

There are so many of us now, Ms J. And we're so selfish. What shall we leave to generations yet to come?

Baby David will come home on Thursday. What kind of Life can he expect? What chance does he have with that tribe of hooligans, poor little bugger? With Dan. Maxine. And Kelly. I never thought I'd say this, Ms J, but I worry about that little man. Yeah, I do.

I spoke with Nick this morning and told him about David.

"See?" I said. "You're not the only one with problems."

Why must Life be so difficult sometimes? And then you grow old and die.

"Chill out, man," said Nick. "The Universe is unfolding as it should."

He's right, of course. I know this. I often use that hackneyed expression myself. But still, it doesn't stop me from worrying sometimes. Or musing and meandering.

Peace, Ms J. See you tomorrow.

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