Day 234

"so this is the new year and i don't feel any different. the clanking of crystal. explosions off in the distance" are the first few words from a death cab for cutie song. they opened with it in seattle that one early september concert where the air was fair and the summer was ending.

now today, winter, i walked the downtown of this ski town. people carried skis over their shoulders and some are followed by pet dogs. i was going to get a haircut from a friend's dad who's a barber. he's had the shop for twelve years now and we had good conversation as he gave me my first haircut in at least eight months. then a bit of a beard trim. and then, he said merry christmas and didn't even charge me.

tonight we had a few hours work for a new years event on the hill for the kids. i kept the bon fire going for a few hours and then at nine oclock we handed out sparklers to the dozens of children and had a 'kid's new year countdown.' i think the parents liked this idea and, since the darkness falls at five in the afternoon, nine oclock might as well been midnight to these kids.

for what its worth, i wish you a happy new years. here comes the dead of winter. i'm looking forward to it in this place.

Day 233

another month is almost over and now, nearly, another year. i find it a coincidence to be spending a consecutive new years eve in canada, this year now following last years roadtrip with my cousin to phillip's square in downtown toronto. wildest dreams would have never fabricated any of this that is now the present.

but that's kind of where i am right now tonight- picturing all this in my head and re-appreciating the big picture. there's routine. this is life. i still enjoy rice and beans for dinner all the while thankful and knowing that i'd rather be happy and free and living all this with rice and beans than finding solace in a regulated and uninventive manner of living.

a few of us went on a tim horton's run tonight after an sfc dodgeball competition. tim's is just down the highway and three of us walked along the piled snowbanks under a surprisingly warm evening. we passed the best western hotel and i remembered that first weekend here and temporary homelessness and showing up to church with all our luggage with the faith that things would work out. we left church that morning with friends, a temporary home, and i got a definite and much-needed job. before all this in the middle of the summer, my friend's dad told me about one of his former preaching students who was now working as a pastor in fernie. the fernie plans were still young during that stage and even though there are a few churches in town, i've only become involved with one- the one i'd heard about months and months before at that table in langley . that connection still blows my mind sometimes.

earlier today as these thoughts started to come together, the people who had picked me up to take me to the hill this morning were talking about the avalanche victims. apparently one of the people my driver works with was friends with all of those covered in snow and has lately only found comfort in drinking. even now i think of a friend from high school who's fiance, also one of my friends from college, was killed in a farming accident towards the end of the summer. and even though it wasn't as much of a surprise as the former, my own grandpa's death leaves me feeling a little stunned sometimes.

i'm trying to find a balance. more purpose.

pastor shawn and i are scheduled to hang out over the next couple weeks during his scheduled pulpit break. i'm looking forward to talking with him and to ask questions about faith and moving mountains and purposes and maybe, through it all, find a little more reasons for why i've been led here in such a unique way.

Day 232

there was an avalanche nearby. apparently this is made news today around north america. thanks for the emails and concerns though.

tonight i took a break from playing piano to chill with the same couple from last night and we got to talking about avalanches. some slides produce winds over two hundred miles an hour, making the gusts alone enough to snap trees in the path below. the only way to try to survive an avalanche is to either try to try to swim atop it or, if close enough to the edges, use your elbows to make an air pocket in front of the face and then dig up.

we talked about music and then he explained his work as an aircraft mechanic. they asked about my journey and travels and were really encouraging towards the music path that's been developing lately.

in the middle of all this, i quietly think to myself that all these conversations and meetings are the greatest experiences of this gig.

Day 231

the piano was facing towards the big windows at the bluey, darkening mountains and the low-lit lounge inside was filled with the dinner crowd. families of skiers and couples with wine or martini glasses sat at the sofas and tables around the tall room. i had my own wine glass, a tall, empty sprout sitting at the edge of the top of the piano. the greatest thing about canadian currency is that the five dollar bill is the smallest paper denomination. no silly singles here. diners came along and made requests. kids danced next to the piano and i played them 'tiny dancer.' an american couple asked their waitress to ask me to come visit their table when i had a break.

i went around and met the two. she was excited about an old, antique piano she'd bought at a yard sale not too long ago and he affirmed that it was indeed wonderful. they had some questions about piano and lessons because, as she informed me, she'd been looking for a piano like this for a long time and had waited until she found it to start learning. clearly excited, she asked my opinion on the ethics of the matter of methods for repair. should she replace the keys with plastic for cheap or choose the ivory renovation at the ultimate cost of killing an elephant?

i was hardpressed for an answer as i'd never previously considered that i'd been trouncing the poached pride of some dusted elephant. maybe there's an alternative, or maybe call the manufacturer to see how exactly they make their keys. that was the best advice i could give seeing that i'm no expert in piano building or instruction. they were kind and interesting throughout the conversation, still i felt a little like an over-esteemed celebrity in that place in time. i just play piano, really. i have no answers.

Day 230

weariness

Day 229

business was slow at the organic market tonight. i sat down in my corner at the small table by the window and before long the same owner lady passed by. we made small talk about christmas and she muttered that she wasn't a fan of the season anymore. i asked what christmas was like when she had been a fan and both her and the fellow scott, who is usually behind the counter with an apron, answered that they liked christmas when they were kids and when it wasn't so commercialized.

seems like now that christmas is over, winter is slowly opening its mouth in a lazy yawn and washing down the last of the christmas lights and decorations with a fresh blanket of snow. more powder. here begins the dead of winter- the white bacteria and bland taste since long-passed thanksgiving and now christmas and soon a new year.

we shared some more banter about the origin of the organic market before they drifted away and i fell back into the last pages of my book. this was interrupted by their sudden conversation about flying bats..

this immediately reminded me of the time in early spring of junior year when a bat had found its way into the high school. the whole first period was delayed as people crowded the halls to observe the excitement. girls swung emptied purses and some of the guys clumsily hoisted black garbage bags into the air as the bat continued to dart and circle the hall and foyer. i had just come upstairs from the batting cage after an early morning batting practice session. i was wearing batting gloves and went to a hall corner. half the school was at one end of the hall and another group were down the other. i reached up and around in time to swipe the bat from the air in mid-flight- his tiny head peaking out from a soft hold of the inner thumb and palm. his wings were tucked neatly against his body in the deepest crook of my grip. people cheered and we all walked outside to watch the little guy get tossed into the open air. i still can hardly believe it sometime.


also, we've started the process of recording music tonight. between some combined gear and a basic knowledge of recording technique from last semester, we're officially unofficially starting a cd. ian, one of the guys in our little band, blew us all away with stories about his previous life as a carpenter's apprentice in australia. he lived in a shack without plumbing or wired electricity on the gold coast of australia for six months. this is where, at night, he became the greatest technical guitar player i have ever met.

Day 228

today was the first official powder day on the mountain. i remember when i first got here in october and, for the next two months, had indifferent and borderline shallow-opinions on the people who kept talking about powder riding. shredding the pow. gnarly. all those words.

then after yesterday and a first experience with only a couple feet of powder, i totally understand the delight of floating and cutting across a mountain snowfall and have the same stoked reaction for riding the pow. had my board not broken last night, i'd have been up there all this morning to experience todays dump.

the snow picked up again this the evening as five of us drove to nearby cranbrook for christmas dinner. we'd all become friends with bethany at camp qwanoes over the summer and her and her family had eagerly invited us foreign guys to their house for a proper christmas dinner. the piling snow and van's one headlight stretched a usual one hour trip to over two hours. three of the southern hemisphere guys hadn't seen much weather like this. tim had however and i'd obviously grown up in the midwest so the two of us took turns maneuvering there at about 25 miles an hour.

bethany is a cheerful and attentive personality. her dad is a hunter and map maker and their basement walls are crowded with the hanging heads of deer, antelope, bears, and a crouching cougar that either he or bethany's brother had shot and modeled. mrs franck is kind and looks very much like her daughter. maybe its the other way around.

as we ate, conversations on cultures differences and our collective first christmases away from home revolved around the table. apparently there aren't twinkies in canada and cuba has been a popular vacation spot for canadians to escape the presence of americans. the kiwis were shocked that pumpkins were only really used in seasonal pies in north american cooking- the didn't think a vegetable could perform as a dessert.

their family even gave us presents. we each unwrapped our own flannel blanket and then a house present of a deck of skip-bo cards and a dvd. my dad likes skip-bo. we all thanked them profusely for their kindness. mr franck responded that he'd hope that if his kids were away for christmas that someone would give them the best foreign christmas experience possible. they did indeed do that for us all.

they offered to let us stay the night and then drive us back home in a truck if the roads hadn't been sufficiently cleared but four of us have to work in the morning. the francks provided a thermos of coffee for the road and a few minutes drive after following a neatly drawn map showed that the roads had since been cleared. the drive home took only an hour.

it's been different, but it's been very good. merry christmas.

Day 227

i woke up early today at a room in the resort on the hill. it was almost nine am and snow was falling. just outside the window the ski lifts jerked and started their slow cycle. a few minutes later, i was heading up as well. the new pair of ski goggles brought the view of the snow and cabins and mountains through a sepia tint. i paused at the top of one of the runs and sat near the edge of the drop off, strapped in and ready to go, while dusty snow whipped against the plastic mask and a fuzzy sun began to climb into the sky. this is perfect, i thought to myself. it's good to have these moments, to be alone and still at the top of a mountain before the first ride on a mint morning. i'm thankful for all this. near the end of the day, a rough patch of combined powder and soft bushes ended up claiming the life of my only snowboard. snap. i had really liked my board.. but after the goggle incident the other day, i'm kind of excited to see how a new one will be presented.

today is christmas eve. day. i'm sure everyone who has a blog has reminded the others of this fact and i'm sure an equally respectable amount of people are readily admitting that its snuck up on them. both are true here too.

there was a christmas eve service at church- obvious fact number three. but i don't think that what happened in the little, packed out building could have been readily matched in spirit and content anywhere else. the church isn't a trendy church, like an imago dei or heartland or wherever else the church people look like they work at gap and american eagle, but this small, conservative baptist church was pulling people in through an advertised hour of christmas music. the band was sharp and pastor shawn led the christmas tunes. it felt like a normal service. then, towards the end, he presented a way for the people to get involved in more than just singing along with a band. after learning and practicing a quick choir-like three part harmony, people smiled and stood and sang.

the message at the end was short. a few minutes into it, the drummer thumped a tame, repetitive beat. shawn stood in the candle light and gave an analogy of how God's creation and salvation was like an eternal rhythm. soon the bass started walking and the piano filled the upper atmosphere of the groove with crisp thirds. then guitars. same jam, same riffs, same everything. like a beat.

i looked at the nearest faces in my area to guess what they were feeling. i wondered how many of these people were making their annual church appearance here tonight. then shawn played an out of key chord. he played it loud- like he said that some people try to play their life or success or the pursuit of riches and who are still confused why its all still not sounding good to them. he tied in salvation to this too. i took mental notes of the whole moment and had ideas for what i wanted to write about later. now, i can barely remember the outline and have started from scratch, but what shawn said and did made an incredible amount of sense to me.

i've been feeling the rhythm. i'm saved and try to follow Jesus but i could still admit and identify the presence and influence of this eternal beat lately. in fact, i probably felt it this morning on the mountain. and i felt it when i received the goggles. a faith-rhythm. now i wish i'd at least jotted a few notes on a scrap of paper like normal so this doesn't all sound cheesy now, but if you've been reading for a while then i hope that the connection can be made. in fact, i'm counting on it.

however, all these little ideas and plans in my head took a sudden back seat when i heard the news. my grandpa died tonight. when i'd left illinois in may for camp i'd had it in my mind when we'd last gone out to lunch together and during the last goodbye and exclamation of 'youhooo' that this might be the last time i see grandpa bill. and i knew he'd been declining lately. even past the age of ninety-two, he was the strongest-white-haired man i'd ever know. lately, this apparent and tricky matter of death had been considered as an imminent arrival. grandpa inspired me to play harmonica and we jammed a couple times but it mostly resulted in playing along with him to classics like 'oh my darling clementine.' he also was an excellent example of style and ease in the way that he always wore a fedora hat and sweater and called the waitresses 'honey' as he shook their hand at the end of a meal to give them their tip. i first started drinking coffee during our meals together. he knew several languages and would always get angriest in his native, polish tongue. when i first got to fernie and was buying bagels and bananas for sustenance, i carried around my change in a small, plastic bag just like him, except my collection was nearly the sole representation of my current value. i talked with my family tonight back home for quite a while and things seem to be at peace all things considered. i think i'm almost at peace. whatever all-things-considered means.

even tonight as i pedaled home from church, noah gundersen's song ''poor man's son'' was repeating on my ipod. he was singing about being stone cold broke in the middle of winter and not wanting gold or silver and then there was a verse that said

"i feel a cold wind blowing dark clouds on the western sky
i gotta feeling like knowing
that everyone here will someday die"

and that's where i'm left tonight- christmas eve- with reminders that i don't need much and that everyone here will someday die.

and that the beat goes on.