Tror Orcboot's Cave
Sunday, April 27, 2003
Tonight at the Gathering we had a labyrinth set up. I was kind of sceptical at first, since I didn't really know how it would work in such a cramped space, but it was surprisingly powerful. Very calm, meditative, and conducive to introspection and reminiscence. They're making one in a park not too far from my house, so I will definitely make use of it when it's ready.
Monday, April 21, 2003
Here is a link to a site about the Antarctic. I like this picture so much that I am stealing it for here: 
I originally posted it over at the Woods but the white background didn't really fit.
I originally posted it over at the Woods but the white background didn't really fit.
Saturday, April 19, 2003
Here's a little piece I wrote a while back that I submitted to Theooze, and I just noticed that it was up. One of those comedy of error situations you occasionally find yourself embroiled in.
Monday, April 14, 2003
This post is originally from Pooing in the Woods.
Whale Hunting
Although I have had many opportunities, I have never seen a whale in the wild. In captivity at the Vancouver Aquarium, yes, but not out on the ocean where they belong. On both coasts I've gone looking, and even at the Hudson's Bay, though since it was frozen over I wasn't really looking for whales so much as polar bears.
Once, in Newfoundland, I spent a pleasant day walking on the beach, watching out for whales in the cove while simulataneously keeping an eye out for shark teeth in the sand. As a child I once read that shark teeth often washed up on shore and they could be found by a sharp eye, though they have eluded me so far. After a while I came across a group of fishermen who were preparing their lines with their catch of herring so they could go out and catch cod, so I helped them for a few hours, slicing herring into six sections, getting covered with blood and viscera. The fishermen laughed at the landlubber, and I laughed at their jokes, spoken in a dialect almost indicipherable to me. Later that night I fried a herring fillet on my campfire and revelled in the new memories I had made. But no whales showed themselves that day.
But in a way, I have slept with whales. Coming back from the Queen Charlotte Islands on the ferry, I slept the night out on the deck, using my backpack as a pillow. I could hear the sounds of the whales swimming nearby, their whistles and their squeals sounding ethereal in the starry mist. I tried to see them, but it was too dark, the ocean and the sky blending together into nothingness. They were out there, though, and I was satisfied.
Whale Hunting
Although I have had many opportunities, I have never seen a whale in the wild. In captivity at the Vancouver Aquarium, yes, but not out on the ocean where they belong. On both coasts I've gone looking, and even at the Hudson's Bay, though since it was frozen over I wasn't really looking for whales so much as polar bears.
Once, in Newfoundland, I spent a pleasant day walking on the beach, watching out for whales in the cove while simulataneously keeping an eye out for shark teeth in the sand. As a child I once read that shark teeth often washed up on shore and they could be found by a sharp eye, though they have eluded me so far. After a while I came across a group of fishermen who were preparing their lines with their catch of herring so they could go out and catch cod, so I helped them for a few hours, slicing herring into six sections, getting covered with blood and viscera. The fishermen laughed at the landlubber, and I laughed at their jokes, spoken in a dialect almost indicipherable to me. Later that night I fried a herring fillet on my campfire and revelled in the new memories I had made. But no whales showed themselves that day.
But in a way, I have slept with whales. Coming back from the Queen Charlotte Islands on the ferry, I slept the night out on the deck, using my backpack as a pillow. I could hear the sounds of the whales swimming nearby, their whistles and their squeals sounding ethereal in the starry mist. I tried to see them, but it was too dark, the ocean and the sky blending together into nothingness. They were out there, though, and I was satisfied.
Sunday, April 13, 2003
The fun thing about the Orcboot pseudonym/persona is that it has so much leeway in how you can imagine Mr. Orcboot. It has a cool mystique. Is he an Orc? That has some obvious advantages. Is he a Gondorian Ranger who killed an orc and stole his boots? That has an appeal too. Or maybe his boots are made out of orc skin. Both are kind of badass. Of course, musing about the origin and characteristics of a made-up alias kind of takes away any real semblance of badassness.
I wrote a poem over at my other blog (Homie Bear) where Homie is attacked by an orc and so he eats him. So it would be funny if I also had an orc persona. The two would always be fighting. Kinda schizo. I should go buy an orc action figure tomorrow. I already have a Gondorian Ranger. His boots aren't made out of orc, as far as I can see.
I wrote a poem over at my other blog (Homie Bear) where Homie is attacked by an orc and so he eats him. So it would be funny if I also had an orc persona. The two would always be fighting. Kinda schizo. I should go buy an orc action figure tomorrow. I already have a Gondorian Ranger. His boots aren't made out of orc, as far as I can see.
Monday, April 07, 2003
The intro to my sermon last night at the Gathering:
The Tibetans have a special ritual that seems barbaric to our Western eyes- the Sky Burial.
High up on a mountain, a body is carried in the early morning light to be ‘buried’. A few Tibetan men, and perhaps a young apprentice boy, quietly and calmly prepare the body.
One man is in charge, and strips the body of its clothes, and then takes a knife and cuts a large slit along her spine. He peels the flesh off the body in swastika patterned cuts.
He then takes an axe and cuts off her limbs, throwing them to his assistants, who pound them into jelly with the backs of their axes.
Organs are removed and cut into small pieces.
Last, the head is removed from the torso, scalped, and smashed with a rock. When they’re ready, they call the vultures that have been patiently watching the proceedings. The vultures descend on the remains and devour them.
Now, I realize this is somewhat revolting and disturbing to us. But it has no such connotations to the Tibetans. To them, it is a final act of compassion, providing sustenance to other living beings with their remains. Since they believe in reincarnation, they have no use for a “used-up body” anyway. And there’s an aesthetic appeal to the ritual too- the birds symbolically carry their souls to the heavens, hence the name “Sky Burial”.
The Tibetans have a special ritual that seems barbaric to our Western eyes- the Sky Burial.
High up on a mountain, a body is carried in the early morning light to be ‘buried’. A few Tibetan men, and perhaps a young apprentice boy, quietly and calmly prepare the body.
One man is in charge, and strips the body of its clothes, and then takes a knife and cuts a large slit along her spine. He peels the flesh off the body in swastika patterned cuts.
He then takes an axe and cuts off her limbs, throwing them to his assistants, who pound them into jelly with the backs of their axes.
Organs are removed and cut into small pieces.
Last, the head is removed from the torso, scalped, and smashed with a rock. When they’re ready, they call the vultures that have been patiently watching the proceedings. The vultures descend on the remains and devour them.
Now, I realize this is somewhat revolting and disturbing to us. But it has no such connotations to the Tibetans. To them, it is a final act of compassion, providing sustenance to other living beings with their remains. Since they believe in reincarnation, they have no use for a “used-up body” anyway. And there’s an aesthetic appeal to the ritual too- the birds symbolically carry their souls to the heavens, hence the name “Sky Burial”.
Thursday, April 03, 2003
More bad news for Hinton miners: Cardinal River mine to shut down. This is where I used to work, and where my Dad works right now. But the announcement is not really a surprise, since the mine is 33 years old and has been running out of coal for a long time now. In fact, the article states that CRC will have another year, which is one more year than predicted last year at this time, and a total of 18(!!) years more than its original projected lifespan. What will hurt will be the 190 people laid off. To join the 60 of us laid off last spring, and the 90 Obed miners laid off last month. I guess I should start looking for a job.
And the other bit of bad news is that the Cheviot Mine is not looking too likely at this point. It'll be mined some day, though, I pretty much guarantee it. The coal is the best quality in the world- the only factor is the world market price for coal makes it uneconomical to mine it at present.
But on the plus side, ummm . . .
And the other bit of bad news is that the Cheviot Mine is not looking too likely at this point. It'll be mined some day, though, I pretty much guarantee it. The coal is the best quality in the world- the only factor is the world market price for coal makes it uneconomical to mine it at present.
But on the plus side, ummm . . .
