The hallmark of a good Christmas issue is that it's not like a Hallmark card. Our Winter 'Well' looks seasonal with its snow-clad mountains, but that's about as far as it goes.
This is an issue about the interaction of everyday heroes and mountains. In the end, the mountain is the ultimate metaphor for the challenges that rise up in every life.
All at Speakwell wish you a great Christmas season with the hope that your 2005 mountains take you to new heights.
:: Martin Collis
Christmas comes loaded with associations and memories of food, family, fun, carols, gifts, parties and all those decisions about Christmas cards. Using the internet we could send them by the hundred, but somehow animated reindeer on the computer screen are no match for handwritten messages on 'real' cards delivered by the mailman.
Christian churches are crowded as people give thanks for their big day. I'm big on giving thanks. As I put together this issue of 'Well' I realized how easy it was because of the wonderful people who touch my life. People like Simon Ibell, whom I've known for years and have yet to hear him complain about anything. Peter Mason who quietly helps students get high by getting high up in the mountains or his new climbing boulder. I'm thankful for the students next door for introducing Nancy and me to the story of Stephen Canning. If these names are unfamiliar to you, 'read all about it' in this issue.
I believe that in every community, in every school, in every workplace you can find inspirational people with great stories to tell. You can see what you want to see, find what you want to find and an attitude of gratitude will align your eyes so that they don't overlook the goodness by which most people would like to be known.
I grew up hearing old British music hall songs, a number of which were songs of thankfulness.
"When I'm worried and I can't sleep I count my blessings instead of sheep."
In the music hall tradition, the Cockney rock singer Ian Dury did his paean of thanks in a song called "Reasons to be Cheerful".
"A little grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it.
You're welcome, we can spare it yellow socks.
The juice of the carrot, the feathers of a parrot,
A little drop of claret anything that rocks.
Reasons to be cheerful, 1 - 2 - 3."
It's trite but it's right.
When Paul McCartney gave his younger brother, Mike, a Nikon camera for Christmas in 1966, it triggered two things (I) the birth of a fine photographer and (II) a song of gratitude called, appropriately enough, 'Thank U Very Much', which was recorded by Mike's group, The Scaffold (who also gave us 'Lily the Pink'). The lyrics look pretty inane on paper, but the song sounds fine.
"Thank you very much for the family circle
Thank you very much
Thank you very, very much
Thank you very much for the family circle
Thank you very much
Thank you very, very, very, very, very much."
The song also gives thanks for Brian Epstein, who discovered the Beatles, although the reference to Brian is disguised as the 'Aintree Iron'.
The Kinks gave us, "Thank you for the days, those endless days, those sacred days you gave me."
I'll join in the chorus. Thank you for the days of 2004, which saw my daughter, Christy, who is a professor in Australia, get married to Sue, her partner of 10 years. I finished my little 'father's blessing' with the immortal words of Elvis.
"Thank you very much."
Here come the brides
"Well" and Speakwell itself would not exist were I not surrounded with extraordinary people. Now is the time to name names of those who should be thanked. Bev runs Speakwell and my life, reads instructions and manuals (an astounding gift) and makes everyone who calls the office feel special. Ron, who makes 'Well' the prettiest 'zine on the web and who is a constant source of information and ideas. Luke, a brilliant code writing young computer whiz who has to be the nicest technocrat in Victoria. Lara, a beloved professor who simply makes the world a better place to be. Nancy, an artist, chef, interior decorator, healer and my wife and the single biggest reason I have to say 'Thank you'.
On the Heights
By Lucius Harwood Foote
HE crawls along the mountain walls,
From whence the severed river falls;
Its seething waters writhe and twist,
Then leap, and crumble into mist.
Midway between two boundless seas,
Prone on a ragged reef he lies;
Above him bend the shoreless skies,
While helpless, on his bended knees,
Into that awful gulf profound,
Appalled, he peers with bated breath,
Clutches with fear the yielding ground,
And crouches face to face with death.
The fearful splendor of the sight
Begets in his bewildered brain
A downwright torture of delight,
The very ecstasy of pain.
A sudden frenzy fills his mind,--
If he could break the bonds that bind,
And launch upon the waves of wind;
Only to loose his hold and leap,
Then, cradled like a cloud, to sleep
Wind-rocked upon the soundless deep.
With eyes upturned, he breaks the spell,
And creeps from out the jaws of hell.
Pohono's* siren wiles beguile,--
He drinks her kisses in the wind,
He leaves the nether world behind.
Up, and still upward, mile on mile,
With muffled tramp, the pilgrim creeps
Across the frozen winding-sheet,
Where white-faced death in silence sleeps.
Up, and still upward, to the light,
Until at last his leaden feet
Have mocked the eagle in its flight.
Grim-browed and bald, Tis-sa-ack* broods
Above these white-robed solitudes.
A mute, awe-stricken mortal stands
Upon the fragment of a world,
And, when the rifted clouds are curled,
Sees far below the steadfast lands. *Yosemite Park landmarks
There is a large house in front of mine. The owners of the house are currently working and living in Indonesia. When they told me they were going to rent the house out to nine University of Victoria students, my NIMBY reflex was alerted. I envisioned some sort of dysfunctional frat house with out-of-control parties and punishing rap music (oxymoron?) throbbing through the night. Of course, I was wrong and the reality is that you would be hard put to find nine nicer neighbors. They laugh, attend our parties, invite us over to pot lucks and let me enjoy the odd ping pong game. Their unifying force seems to be that they are active; they cycle, swim, surf, ski, climb, hike and generally squeeze the most out of Vancouver Island's challenging topography.
Given their love of the outdoors it was not surprising that they invited Nancy and me to an evening called 'Mountains Melting'.
During the summer, one of their great friends and house-mates had been killed climbing Mount Logan. His name was Stephen Canning and he was one of those charismatic people who seemed to inspire all who came within his orbit.
The students decided that he should be memorialized by creating a Stephen Canning Memorial Scholarship. Their target was to raise $10,000, which would be matched by the University. Ten grand is a lot of money for students to raise, but they obtained space at the Student Union and created an exhibition of Steve's photography and film, prepared food, solicited 60 companies to donate products and services for a silent auction and provided some good live music.
The place was packed with family, friends and wellwishers including David Suzuki. They raised $15,000 for this remarkable young man, whose friend, Shandell Susin, spoke with eloquence, wit and without a tear. She told a friend how it pained her that Steven's lifeless body was still up on the mountain. The reply was to the effect that 'Steve will become part of the mountain and that melting ice and molecules will run down into our rivers and water will evaporate and Steve will be everywhere'. Hence the title of the evening, 'Mountains Melting'.
Stephen was a writer and after his death this prescient piece was found in his computer. Unknowingly, he had written his own epitaph.
Death
by Stephen Canning
When I die, I want people to say that I inspired them. I don't care so much that they say I was a good man or a kind man or a happy man or a great man. I want them to say that they lived their life a little bit differently because of me. That they saw the world filled with a bit more adventure. That they were a little bit less afraid to do something that they truly wanted.
That seems to be the only theme running through everything I do. Writing is obviously about inspiration. Guiding, ditto. Environmental sciences, again, are really about finding enough evidence that you can convince people to live a little differently.
If even one person stands up at my funeral and says that I inspired them, that will be enough. The world will know that I died happily.
Chances are, I'll probably go in an avalanche or a climbing accident or something like that and people will say, "at least he died doing something he loved." What hogwash. It doesn't matter how you die. It's how you lived up to that point that mattered. Rather than spending most of my time trying to avoid the inevitable: death, I hope to have lived with it firmly in my view.
All of these activities: climbing and skiing and base jumping and whatever else it is that we do. We don't do these things merely for the physical sensation of doing them. We do them because they let us glimpse death. They let us live with death constantly in our lives. It is always peaking over the horizon. When a climber dies, they are perhaps one of the few lucky people who manage die acceptingly. They've looked at death before, shook hands, sat down for a cup of tea. Most people spend their lives ignoring death, pretending it doesn't exist, denying it to the end.
Once you have accepted death, your passing should not be tragic. It should be an inevitable reality. It is the final chapter, which was written before the first.
To live without a fear of death makes you capable of great things. You worry less about what people think of you. You worry less about money. You worry less about failure. You are able to put yourself more fully into everything that you do.
This is the inspiration that I want to have given to people. To let them live with a bit less fear. To push them a little bit closer to the eternal.
Steve at Alouette Lake Photo by Shandell Susin
If you would like to make a donation to the 'Stephen Canning Memorial Scholarship', cheques should be addressed to The University of Victoria, with "Stephen Canning Memorial Scholarship" on the memo line.
Please send to the Development Office at UVic, their address is:
Development Office
University of Victoria
PO Box 3060
Victoria, BC V8W 3R4
Phone: 250.721.7624
Fax: 250.721.8961
Stephen's photographs are available for viewing here and then contact Helen and Doug Canning at dcanning@telus.net for ordering information.
Good teachers change the lives of children in so many positive ways and anyone who has heard me speak knows that I'm always happy to sing their praises (sometimes literally). One such teacher is Peter Mason. Peter was a student of mine many years ago. He was a good student, quieter than most, and was someone I might have predicted would have moved through the educational hierarchy until he worked in central administration or maybe become a professor like his father. But Peter's joy was in teaching and he remained in the classroom teaching mathematics, while quietly sharing his passion for the outdoors and climbing as an extramural activity.
PASSION is an anagram for I PASS ON and Peter has passed on his love of climbing and mountains to his students.
Peter has guided hundreds of students on a four-day climb to the top of Mount Albert Edward, which is the 4th highest peak on Vancouver Island.
A distant view of Castlecrag on the way to Mount Albert Edward
One year he was asked by a grade 11 student named Ryan Heuman if it would ever be possible for him to be included on the annual climb. Peter said he would see what he could do. The problem for Peter was that Ryan had cerebral palsy and his way of getting about was in a power driven wheelchair.
Peter realized that physically challenged children faced mountains on a daily basis be they steps, curbs, buttonholes or transportation. There had to be a way for Ryan to climb Mount Albert Edward. I've seen the video of Ryan's ascent many times and many times I've cried. It doesn't get any better than watching Ryan achieve the 'impossible' with the help of a great teacher and the support of his friends and fellow students.
Click on Ryan's picture to open quicktime movie of his journey to the top in a separate window.
I'm including a video clip of the climb here. If you are unable to access it on your computer or wish to see a more complete version you can purchase it by sending $20 for a DVD to Speakwell (see details below). The money raised will go toward paying for the remarkable climbing boulder and climbing wall that Peter has had constructed on the grounds of Stellys High School, where he remains a teacher.
Mount Albert Edward is located in Strathcona Provincial Park. Elevation 6870 ft. (2094 meters)
With the mountains and wilderness out of reach on regular school days, Peter decided he would have to bring the mountain to Mahomet (or the students). He first created a climbing wall, which has seized the imagination of many students for whom a traditional Phys. Ed. program held little interest. Hanging on became a great alternative to hanging out.
[ Click here ] for the fundraising video to open in a new window. Note that this quicktime movie runs 6 minutes and measures 15.3MB.
Click on the boulder to visit the climbing wall site
The current project is more ambitious and has involved the creation of a massive 2 1/2 story climbing boulder on the school grounds.
The boulder was created by Allen Fischer of The Edge Climbing Systems. Allen has constructed faux rock for movie sets, town halls and recently for Google Headquarters in New York. His attention to detail extends to creating fake 'fossils' and replicating the quartzite appearance of granite. The boulder has become a magnet for a huge range of students from kindergarten to grade 12, and from special needs kids to athletes.
As it says in Field of Dreams, "If you build it they will come" and people are coming. But, like Ray in Field of Dreams, paying for the project is a major challenge. For the past year I have donated the sales from my booklet, "The Little Book of Lifestyle Artistry" to "The Boulder" and in this way have been able to supply a steady infusion of money to the project. There are great teachers to be found everywhere and they are worth supporting. As Pat Conroy wrote in 'Prince of Tides' "There is no word in the language I revere more than teacher."
I will leave the final word to Peter:
"The program with the special needs kids continues to move along with great success. What a great group of people to work with. I will include at the end a brief article about them that I wrote for our website and school newsletter. I hope you are inspired as I have been.
The Special Ones
I stood by the entrance door and watched. I watched James sit on the floor and work with determination to wrap the daisy chain (a piece of webbing attached to the climbing wall floor and used as an anchor) around the ankle of one of the high school student belayers and secure it with a carabiner. He smiled to himself and looked up to see the reaction to his captured prey. James was between turns on the climbing wall and this was how he chose to amuse himself.
James, an elementary school student, was one of 16 special needs children who used the climbing wall as part of a six-week therapy program in the spring of 2004.
Andrew didn't climb at all the first week. Even getting him to wear a harness was a challenge because it felt so strange to him. His mother asked to take one home for the week so they could practice wearing it for a short time each day. It helped and Andrew was able to try climbing in the weeks that followed.
Ben, always encouraged by his mother, tried to climb to the top but just couldn't overcome his fear of height. He said the wall was too easy and he didn't want to climb. I found it interesting and sad that he was already developing skills to cope with his inability to succeed at some things.
I watched Darcy struggle to make the fingers of her right hand wrap around a good climbing hold. Her face was set with determination and focus as she forced her body to do what most of us take for granted. As I witnessed her struggle, I could not help but see this as a metaphor for a lifetime of struggle -- not just against physical obstacles but also against a society that has not totally come to terms with how it deals with and embraces those who are different.
I felt her pain but also rejoiced in her accomplishments. It felt good to see healthy grade 11 students immersing themselves in helping these younger students. It warmed my soul when a mom said to me, "I haven't seen my son smile this much in a long, long time."
In this life, our primary goal is not to create, collect, or control things but rather to love our neighbours as ourselves. We need to be involved in people's lives, giving and helping where and when we can. We need to be people who are willing to stand in the gap. It is this kind of caring and giving that make a community special. It makes it the kind of place we want to live and raise our families.
Are you looking to make a difference in your community? Look no further than helping out with our 'special ones'. It will open your heart like no other volunteer opportunity. It did for me.
Two great Christmas gift ideas for you:
Purchase a copy of the full 1/2 hour version of "Ryan's Climb". It's a great gift, it will inspire any class or group who view it and all the profits from its sale will be donated to Stellys Climbing Program.
Please send a cheque for $20 made out to Speakwell for "Ryan's Climb" DVD to:
Speakwell
2572 Arbutus Rd
Victoria, BC V8N 1W2
Or call our office toll-free at 866-721-6940 to charge to your Visa or MasterCard.
Give a gift towards the completion of the climbing boulder.
Send cheque made payable to 'School District #63 Scholarship Fund' and in the memo section 'Climbing Facility' to:
Peter Mason
Stellys Secondary School
1627 Stellys X Rd
Saanichton, BC V8M 1S8
A tax receipt will be mailed to you.
Conquering a Mountain called Life
by Simon Ibell
Do you remember Junior High School and High School where all you wanted to do was fit in, maybe make one of the sports teams and experiment with the dating scene? That was not part of my experience because I was born with a condition known as MPS II (Mucoploysaccharidosis Hunter's Syndrome). My life was like playing solitaire with one missing card and in my case the missing card was the enzyme iduronate sulphate sulphatase, which breaks down mucopolysaccharides in the body. As a result, those mucopolysaccharides are incompletely broken down and remain stored in the cells of the body with unpleasant and often fatal results. The damage is progressive and can affect respiration, enlargement of major organs along with shortness of stature, loss of hearing, arthritic like restriction of joint movement and vision impairment. In my case it was all of the above.
One of the Boys Back Left: Al Whitley, Ali Wilmott, Steve Nash, Mark Kennedy Front Left: Mike Paz and Simon Ibell
At 14 years old when my peers were worrying about zits, clothing and hair, I talked my parents into ending the medical odyssey we had been on to seek a cure for my condition. My task was to get people to see the real Simon and not the packaging. I needed them to enjoy my sense of humor, to share my dreams and to treat me as 'one of the boys'.
All kids have dreams, few of which are fulfilled. I had my own dreams, but in my case the realities in my life have far surpassed my teenage dreams. I've always had a love of sport and although I could never make an elite team, I could be part of one by being a dedicated team manager. Throughout high school I managed both Junior and Senior boys' basketball and rugby teams, embarking on a fabulous United Kingdom Rugby Tour in Grade 10. At the University of Victoria I managed the men's basketball team for several years as well as assisting
the Canadian National Team for four straight summers. The athletes knew that I dealt with pain on a daily basis, but that I would push myself to always be prepared and to assist the team in whatever way I could.
The Bike4MPS gang
I slowly realized that my positive demeanor, laughter and example actually inspired the people who were now my teammates. In one of those wonderful inversions I was now a role model for people who had been the role models for me.
play to hear the last verse of a Steve Nash/Dirk Nowitzki song about Simon as their role model
As a teenager in high school it would have been hard to dream up what's actually happened in my life. The people I have met through my involvement in sport have been incredible and provided me the opportunity to make close friendships with so many wonderful people, such as Steve Nash (Dallas Mavericks/Phoenix Suns), Roland Green (World Mountain Biking Champion) and Simon Whitfield (Olympic Gold Medalist-Triathlon).
I've had experiences I couldn't have imagined as a youngster, seeing the inner circle of the NBA and the dedication and determination of elite superstar athletes. I completed a leisure studies degree in the School
of Physical Education at the University of Victoria. I led a bike ride the length of Vancouver Island and was supported by a host of elite athletes and friends. At the 2003 Canadian Sports Awards I won the Spirit of Sport Story of the Year Award on National TV over figure skaters David Pelletier and Jamie Sale and cross-country skier Beckie Scott. Olympic Gold Medal winners all.
Olympians and me Left: Olympic Gold Medal Winner for speed skating, Catriona Le May Doan. Right: Beckie Scott and Catriona Le May Doan
Currently I have embarked on perhaps the ultimate wish fulfillment phase of my life. I was offered a chance to be a participant in clinical trials for an experimental treatment protocol, which has the potential to prolong my life and stop the progression of my disease. Participating in these clinical trials meant putting my life on hold, leaving my friends in Victoria and relocating to Toronto, from where I could commute each week to Chapel Hill, North Carolina for lengthy intravenous injections of I2S (or a placebo). This was all inconvenient and time consuming, but inconvenience is a small price to pay for the possibility of improved physical functioning and perhaps many bonus years when I can become a spokesperson for others dealing with MPS and other genetic anomalies.
With friend Alex at week 1 of treatment
As in most experimental procedures all has not gone smoothly; at one stage by body reacted violently to the genetically modified enzyme (I2S) at which point I had to be put on a dose of hard to tolerate pre-medications (steroids and antihistamines), which preceded the enzyme replacement therapy. Listening to my body it's not been difficult to figure out that I get the placebo and I2S on alternating weeks. The 'real thing' gives me an initial pain and exhaustion followed by improved breathing, flexibility and energy.
I've actually grown 1/2" (a 1% increase) and can breathe more easily, my liver has shrunk and I've got more use (although more pain) from my fingers. Dr. Joseph Muenzer and his research team have given me new life. Starting this month I will be guaranteed to receive enzyme replacement every week, and hopefully in a few months time at a little closer location than Chapel Hill.
One of my biggest challenges in living with MPS II has been that I have way more confidence in my own abilities than others. It's natural for family and friends to wish to 'protect' me, but sometimes their fears can become an added burden, but it's one to which I have to adjust. Without the support of my family and friends I wouldn't be sitting down to write this article.
My family
As the old song goes, "My future's so bright I have to wear shades." I see continued physical progress, a masters degree and a major physical challenge in the form of a trek up Mount Kilimanjaro. I'm already enlisting co-climbers and am beginning training for another peak performance.
N.B. Everest climber Rob Dyke has already volunteered his services. "Let me know about Kilimanjaro, I would love to go and I have some great climbing connections in South Africa.
If Simon needs a Sherpa I will do it for a dollar."
For Simon's more detailed and clinical account of his enzyme replacement therapy click here to have it open in a separate window. If you would like to contact Simon, please email him at this address Simon@mpssociety.ca.
by Martin Collis
As a Canadian, my neighbor is the USA and I've had a long love affair with the States. Growing up in England I seemed to like all things American, particularly their music and their sports. When I finally made my way to California to study at Stanford it felt as though I was coming home. I understood the old saying that, 'When you're in love, the whole world is American.'
I've found kindness and friendship in California, Texas, Iowa, New York, New Hampshire and New Orleans and I've never lost my admiration for this generous, exuberant and successful society. But lately something seems rotten in the state of the States. Many individuals and businesses have operated like the Tom Petty song in which, "Too much ain't enough." The seeds of greed have blossomed in businesses and banks, and the seeds of doubt color every political statement. Canadians find the recent election results hard to comprehend, as there is a perception that internationally, environmentally and fiscally USA has lost its way. When listening to John Hiatt recently I found myself thinking about my beloved America.
Part of the answer was supplied by the greatest of American storytellers and broadcasters, Garison Keillor, in a back page piece in Time magazine.
...is what has always restored its sanity, and that is the plain pleasures of the physical world, the common love of coffee, the world of apples,
the movements of birds, the lives of dogs, the touch of skin. Music. Dancing to music. Shooting baskets.
Shooting conservatively, scoring liberally. Lacing up skates, gliding through the dusk.
Having worked itself into a fever over the future of Western civilization, America will now begin enjoying its oatmeal again, with raisins, chopped apricots and honey from bees that grazed in meadows of clover.
The beauty of engagement is disengagement. You simply put on your jacket and walk out the door and find good health. There is no fever that a 6 mile (10 km) hike can't cure.
Twenty years ago I gave up TV, and now I am going to take a sabbatical from the news and live in the immediate world. The neighbors are expecting a baby girl. My daughter is taking up the cello.
My mother is game for more Scrabble. There is wood to be cut in the family woodlot.
I've been a prisoner of the New York Times and have read enough for a while and want to get loose."
It's a gentle reminder that wellness and the world of family and nature are part of the answer to every problem. Pay heed to his priceless advice to "simply put on your jacket, walk out the door and find good health."
speakwell : newsletter for wellness : winter 2004
A new CD from Gus Verstraten
When Nancy Wardle was looking for a musician to create the right ambience and soundscape for her CD, 'Calm Down', she turned to Gus Verstraten. Gus is a multi-instrumentalist and master of the studio soundboard. We are thrilled that he has now produced a solo CD that has been the most played disc on the Speakwell sound system for the past three weeks and is featured as the opening music for each article in this issue of 'Well'. The music is meditative and peaceful but can also stir the imagination as it takes you on an 'Inner Journey'. As Gus explained, "The songs chronicle some of the revelations and emotions I've experienced on my voyage of self-exploration." Like Gus himself the music is peaceful and calming but with an awareness of the complexities and wonder of the inner journey that can be a refuge in a challenging world.
The Ultimate Stocking Stuffer!
1. HJ-105 Digital Pedometer
A wonderful activity stimulus, which enables you to participate in the health-giving 10,000 steps program which we heartily endorse at Speakwell. Our pedometers count steps taken, calories burned and measure the distance you've walked in a day.
This Omron pedometer also includes a 7-day memory, an aerobic-step counter and a digital clock. $30 Canadian. Omron was number one in the October Consumer Reports on pedometers.
2. Pedometer in a pill bottle
Everybody seems to want pedometers, and now you can buy them specially packaged in a pill bottle, just like the doctor ordered. "Ten thousand steps a day" is going to be featured in a lot of fitness resolutions, and an Omron HJ-002 pedometer from Speakwell can help turn the resolution into a reality. The Omron HJ 002 step-only pedometer in a pill bottle is $25 Canadian and the Omron HJ 105 multifunction pedometer in a pill bottle is $33 Canadian. You can see what we've written on the label to the right.
3. A new package!
Get your piece of peace on earth with Dr. Nancy Wardle's healing, breath centered meditations titled 'Calm Down', which can change your brain chemistry in minutes. The music for 'Calm Down' comes from Gus Verstraten and now you can hear more of the genius of Gus on his brand new CD, 'Inner Journey'.Two beautiful CDs for only $25 Canadian.
4. Book Package!
Two paperback stocking stuffers that can change your life. The 'Little Book of Lifestyle Artistry' lays out Martin's M.E.L.L.O.W. approach to high level wellness, while Neil McKinlay's 'Learning to Swim' (review in Fall Well 2004) is a must read for parents, teachers, athletes, coaches and just about everybody. $25 for both.
5. Ball and Book!
Our high quality, burst resitant, silver exercise ball and a copy of the book Ball Bearings, which will help you maximize the way in which you work with your ball. $60 Canadian (a $65 value).
6. Gift of Wellness (in a box)
There are 5 'S's to total fitness and this package delivers all 5. The Omron HJ105 pedometer supports stamina, your silver ball and Ball Bearings will help you develop strength, suppleness and stability, while 'Calm Down' will supply the 5th 'S', serenity. $99 Canadian (a $115
value).
7. Well in a Box
Our silver ball, one Omron HJ-002 pedometer, Nancy Wardle's best-selling 'Calm Down' CD and a bonus Little Book of Lifestyle Artistry and a fridge magnet. The fitness ball and pedometer will help provide a work-out, while the 'Calm Down' CD will provide a 'work-in'. $60
Canadian (a $74 value).
All the above items and more are available to be purchased separately from WellMart. Check with Speakwell (mcollis@speakwell.com) for discounts for bulk purchases.
Come in from the cold, warm your red nose and shop WellMart from your armchair!
title photograph :: photographer unknown all other photographs by Stephen Canning :: read about him in this issue in the article titled "Mountains Melting"
The Mountain
by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
The mountain sat upon the plain
In his eternal chair,
His observation omnifold,
His inquest everywhere.
The seasons prayed around his knees,
Like children round a sire:
Grandfather of the days is he,
Of dawn the ancestor.
David
by Earle Birney
The poem 'David' by the fine, but often neglected, Canadian poet Earle Birney is perhaps the epic climbing poem. It's long so I give you an editied version here, you can find the full poem here.
David and I that summer cut trails on the Survey,
All week in the valley for wages, in air that was steeped
In the wail of mosquitoes, but over the sunalive week-ends
We climbed, to get from the ruck of the camp, the surly
Poker, the wrangling, the snoring under the fetid
Tents, and because we had joy in our lengthening coltish
Muscles, and mountains for David were made to see over,
Stairs from the valleys and the steps to the sun's retreats.
The ice in the morning thaw was gurgling world of crystal and cold blue chasms,
And seracs that shone like frozen saltgreen waves.
At the base of the Finger we tried once and failed. Then David
Edged to the west and discovered the chimney; the last
Hundred feet we fought the rock and shouldered and kneed
Our way for an hour and made it. Unroping we formed
A cairn on the rotting tip. Then I turned to look north
At the glistening wedge of giant Assiniboine, heedless
Of handhold. And one foot gave. I swayed and shouted.
David turned sharp and reached out his arm and steadied me,
Turning again with a grin and his lips ready
To jest. But the strain crumbled his foothold. Without
A gasp he was gone. I froze to the sound of grating
Edge-nails and fingers, the slither of stones, the lone
Second of silence, the nightmare thud. Then only
The wind and the muted beat of unknowing cascades.
Somehow I worked down the fifty impossible feet
To the ledge, calling and getting no answer but echoes
Released in the cirque, and trying not to reflect
What an answer would mean. He lay still, with his lean
Young face upturned and strangely unmarred, but his legs
Splayed beneath him, beside the final drop,
Six hundred feet sheer to the ice. My throat stopped
When I reached him, for he was alive. He opened his grey
Straight eyes and brokenly murmured 'over...over.'
And I, feeling beneath him a cruel fang
Of the ledge thrust in his back, but not understanding,
Mumbled stupidly, 'Best not to move,' and spoke
Of his pain. But he said, 'I can't move.... If only I felt
Some pain.' Then my shame stung the tears to my eyes
As I crouched, and I cursed myself, but he cried,
Louder, 'No, Bobbie! Don't ever blame yourself.
I didn't test my foothold.' He shut the lids
Of his eyes to the stare of the sky, while I moistened his lips
From our water flask and tearing my shirt into strips
I swabbed the shredded hands. But the blood slid
From his side and stained the stone and the thirsting lichens,
And yet I dared not lift him up from the gore
Of the rock. Then he whispered, 'Bob, I want to go over!'
This time I knew what he meant and I grasped for a lie
And said, 'I'll be back here by midnight with ropes
And men from the camp and we'll cradle you out.' But I knew
That the day and the night must pass and the cold dews
Of another morning before such men unknowing
The ways of mountains could win to the chimney's top.
And then, how long? And he knew ... and the hell of hours
After that, if he lived till we came, roping him out.
But I curled beside him and whispered, 'The bleeding will stop.
You can last.' He said only, 'Perhaps.... For what? A wheelchair,
Bob?' His eyes brightening with fever upbraided me.
I could not look at him more and said, 'Then I'll stay
With you.' But he did not speak, for the clouding fever.
I lay dazed and stared at the long valley,
The glistening hair of a creek on the rug stretched
By the firs, while the sun leaned round and flooded the ledge,
The moss, and David still as a broken doll.
I hunched to my knees to leave, but he called and his voice
Now was sharpened with fear. 'For Christ's sake push me over!
If I could move.... Or die....' The sweat ran from his forehead,
But only his eyes moved. A hawk was buoying
Blackly its wings over the wrinkled ice.
The purr of a waterfall rose and sank with the wind.
Above us climbed the last joint of the Finger
Beckoning bleakly the wide indifferent sky.
Even then in the sun it grew cold lying there.... And I knew
He had tested his holds. It was I who had not.... I looked
At the blood on the ledge, and the far valley. I looked
At last in his eyes. He breathed, 'I'd do it for you, Bob.'
I will not remember how nor why I could twist
Up the wind-devilled peak, and down through the chimney's empty
Horror, and over the traverse alone. I remember
Only the pounding of fear I would stumble on It
When I came to the grave cold maw of the bergschrund... reeling
Over the sun-cankered snowbridge, shying the caves
In the nivi... the fear and the need to make sure It was there
On the ice, the running and falling and running, leaping
Of gaping greenthroated crevasses, alone and pursed
By the Finger's lengthening shadow. At last through the fanged
And blinding seracs I slid to the milky wrangling
Falls at the glacier's snout, through the rocks plied huge
On the humped moraine, and into the spectral larches,
Alone. By the glooming lake I sank and chilled
My mouth but I could not rest and stumbled still
To the valley, losing my way in the ragged marsh.
I was glad of the mire that covered the stains, on my ripped
Boots, of his blood, but panic was on me, the reek
Of the bog, the purple glimmer of toadstools obscene
In the twilight. I staggered clear to a firewaste, tripped
And fell with a shriek on my shoulder. It somehow eased
My heart to know I was hurt, but I did not faint
And I could not stop while over me hung the range
Of the Sawback. In blackness I searched for the trail by the creek
And found it.... My feet squelched a slug and horror
Rose again in my nostrils. I hurled myself
Down the path. In the woods behind some animal yelped.
Then I saw the glimmer of tents and babbled my story.
I said that he fell straight to the ice where they found him,
And none but he sun and the incurious clouds have lingered
Around the marks of that day on the ledge of the Finger,
That day, the last of my youth, on the last of our mountains.
An Essay on Criticism: Part 2
by Alexander Pope (1688-1744) Second verse
A little learning is a dang'rous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.
Fir'd at first sight with what the Muse imparts,
In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts,
While from the bounded level of our mind,
Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind,
But more advanc'd, behold with strange surprise
New, distant scenes of endless science rise!
So pleas'd at first, the tow'ring Alps we try,
Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky;
Th' eternal snows appear already past,
And the first clouds and mountains seem the last;
But those attain'd, we tremble to survey
The growing labours of the lengthen'd way,
Th' increasing prospect tires our wand'ring eyes,
Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!
«Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. The winds will blow their freshness into you and the storms their energy. Cares will drop off like Autumn leaves.» John Muir
«The doors of history swing on small hinges.» The Bible
Three quotes from a recent FitNet, the daily wellness message from Tim Lane that is available to all. To join, send your email address to join-fitnet@lists.ia.gov
«I've been on a constant diet for the last two decades. I've lost a total of 789 pounds. By all accounts, I should be hanging from a charm bracelet.» Erma Bombeck
«Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.» Mark Twain
«The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts.» Bertrand Russell
«He was often wrong, but never in doubt.»
Anonymous reference to Ohio Football Coach Woody Hayes
«I know that Jesus loves me, but I'm certain he's not proud.» Chris Wall
«Before the world goes over the brink,
Teach the believers how to think.» Philip Appleman
«Seriousness is the final retreat of the shallow.» Oscar Wilde
«When I look back at all the crap I learned in high school It's a wonder I can think at all.» Paul Simon 'Kodachrome'
«The easiest way for your children to learn about money is for you not to have any.» Katherine Whitehorn
«Take the diplomacy out of war and the thing would fall flat in a week.» Will Rogers
«People will accept your ideas much more readily if you tell them they came from Benjamin Franklin.» Anonymous (maybe Benjamin Franklin?)
«The direct use of force is such a poor solution to any problem. It is generally employed only by small children and large nations.» David Friedman
«It is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.» Henry David Thoreau
katzendog movies!
[click on each picture to open movie in separate window]
[the cats movie is in windows media player format] [the dog movie is in quicktime player format]
fowl tv!
martin's|engagements
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December
3
TAHPERD (Texas Association for Health, Physical Education and Dance)
Olympians and me
...is what has always restored its sanity, and that is the plain pleasures of the physical world, the common love of coffee, the world of apples,
Shooting baskets.
oatmeal again, with raisins, chopped apricots and honey from bees that grazed in meadows of clover. 
