| JUST A DREAM?? | MY MOST INTERESTING JOB... |
| I dreamed I was living among the homeless - North America's dispossessed, and had gone into a mission type place in order to obtain a portion of something to eat. There were hundreds of us there, lined up, waiting for a sandwich and a bowl of soup. Across the room, I could see rows of tables piled high with rotting fruit and stale bread. Not fit to be sold, it had all been donated, but by the time it reached those who might have used it, very little was fit to be eaten. I remember, too, voices all about me, murmuring something about "too much religion" and how well-fed the people were who were dishing the stuff out to those in the lineup. Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed ... instead of standing in line, people were milling around tables like folks at a wedding party. The piles of bad fruit had been replaced with huge cut-glass dishes and containers filled and heaping with fresh salads, breads, meats, vegetables, cakes, pies and every imaginable sort of foodstuff - all beautifully arranged and laid out. People moved around behind the tables, pointing out different dishes and making certain no-one missed an opportunity to sample whatever they liked. Then, an even stranger thing occurred: as the raggedy-looking band of homeless people wandered among the tables, looking surprised and slightly bewildered at their good fortune, the appearance of their clothing began to alter -- from old hand-me-down to newer and more comfortable. The atmosphere changed, too. No longer murmuring, the crowd who had come in to eat became indistinguishable from those serving them. Joking and laughing, some of the ones being served moved to behind the tables to begin serving the servers! - so they too might partake of what had now become a veritable feast. It was as if everyone belonged to the same family -- or, some strangeness had happened and a spirit of true religion had mysteriously invaded the little mission and its inhabitants, breaking through any and all of the barriers that had previously existed between those who gave and those who received... so that I couldn't tell them apart any longer ... and then I awoke... = text provided by "A. Nony Mouse" = |
The most interesting job I ever had was working in a secondhand store in the east end of Toronto at Woodbine and Queen Street East. It was run by and for ex-psychiatric patients. You never knew what would be coming in the van each day as it was by donation. Sometimes you would get a truckload of brand new stuff, sometimes a lot of old, interesting and unusual articles and sometimes a truckload of junk. I started working there as a volunteer, then became assistant manager, then manager. I lasted for seven years and enjoyed every minute of it. I opened up the store each day, answered the phone for pickups, waited on all customers, bagging their selections. I priced all articles from furniture, rugs, tv sets, books, records, clothes, kitchenware and anything else that came in - and we got some very strange donations at times. Each day the driver of the van and myself would pick one person to help on the van, and I would pick one person to help in the store. It was always a busy place, especially on Saturdays. We had a loyal bunch of customers from the east end. We also ran a food bank. One day we were told to take a weekend holiday by the Board of Directors and when I got back I was in for a surprise: one of the volunteers they had chosen had bagged almost all the good quality clothes - cottons, silks, etc. - and hung up in their place all the cheap polyester clothes. We had to re-open all the bags and re-hang the clothes. Another time the driver was going to take an ill employee to the hospital, but was told to take some old appliances to the scrapyard instead. He refused, and went to the hospital instead. But even if he hadn't, it would have ended up costing more in time and gas than what it was worth, as you didn't get much for scrap metal. --contributed by R. S. |
| If "Change" Is A Constant-- | A FEW POEMS... |
| Change may be a constant in the scheme of the machine we call reality. For the most part, it's a process linked with the concept of evolution. Time and motion are other active ingredients of the recipe for this physical material reality in which we find ourselves. Change is often viewed as something to avoid or prevent, particularly as we get older. I say this from observations of human nature and how people view the reality of change that has been going on from the ‘industrial age' to the ‘information age'. For example, we see reluctance (or perhaps inability) of major corporations & media giants to handle leadership roles necessary to fulfil basic requirements their own corporate citizens need to maintain stability of consciousness with regard to their psychological state of being. These people, under an ‘industrial age' mandate, separate the work they do from the lives they lead. This can't be called progress. So, the demands placed on them in exchange for remuneration encroach upon the separate lives each one leads. The impending outcome is the need to confront themselves with a decision to change things to make life better (not only for themselves, for everyone). There seems no way for them to be able to become themselves - to return to or maintain the peaceful state of consciousness they knew as children which, in the end, may be the only thing to enable us to survive this most confusing age. It seems that any rewards awaiting us have to do with our ability to maintain a childhood notion of consciousness while still being in adult form, with all of its demands for interaction in a society being impacted by accelerated growth in information exchange technologies. Technology presents itself as an invaluable tool, and represents a tremendous window of opportunity for a whole global community to make a statement concerning the ideal of human consciousness linking with the consciousness of the god/creator or we might call the state of that Being. Will we? - Dennis | the tragedy of couples She was special. He was special. In the beginning. Then they both lost sight of those ruby slippers on the initially royal feet of the other. And surely slowly lapsed into the hell in life of eternal for granted grey. Happy Happy Fall Down Falling leaves be serfs upon the air each a holo holo holo (never fear, not ‘cost'!) Each a hologram changing perspectives in the tabernacle forest, a city of sundials each tree on its own time each leaf a hologram or mime each rock a biblical booke each insect a mini-look into a universe without verse only rhyming to the tune of sun cloud and moon. Vision Between Dreams Dreamt TE Lawrence shambled out of the sand dunes tanned hungry thirsty and david lean and, having crossed, not a time zone, but an era zone of balmy biddy rand walked straight into a McDonalds ordered a camel burger with Queen Victoria eyes. - john alan douglas  Submit your website to 40 search engines for FREE! |
| Toronto | Ontario | M5A 1S1 |
 towndown2@hotmail.com |
||
|
. |
| Visitors: 01379 |