Breakfast in Scarborough

I’ve never tried yogic flying, but this is what I imagine it could be like with the assistance of a crazy quilt:

“Yogic Flying on a Crazy Quilt” Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

“Michelle’s Doily Frogs,” Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

I have a friend who likes frogs, so I thought she might enjoy a collage that featured her favorite amphibians gussied up with doilies. The frogs pulled off the look with dignity.

And to round out the post, here are some bookmarks I collaged recently!

During my grandmother’s lifetime (1911-2008), she never owned a yoga mat or experienced a guided visualization led by a shamanic woman at a spa in Ontario. Nevertheless, Grandma was with me last May when the shaman asked me to close my eyes and descend deep into the earth, deep within deep, down to the cave of the grandmothers.

“Shine” Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

Drawn by the firelight and the chance to see Grandma again, I went into the cave. Grandma gave me a heavy object wrapped in a gray cloth. Resting inside the cloth was a stained glass ornament that used to hang from Grandma’s apartment window. When it caught the bright Missouri sunlight, it released streams of green, lavender, red, and blue. I used to love looking at those ribbons of light, and when my niece Emma saw them as a baby, she loved them, too.

I took the gift reverently and gave thanks for its rainbow message, the loving command to let myself shine. It called me to allow the light to both pass through me and beam from within me. It called from a cave as deep as the grandmothers’ mythical one, but just as real and powerful.

The gift was a verb. Shine. Be the stained glass. Transform clear light into personal pigment. Manifest the light into words, art, kindnesses, movement, and love. Don’t be opaque. Be clearly colorful, openly bright, unabashedly shiny, embody the light.

The gift and its invocation have come at the perfect time to help me fight the dark grief shadows that cover, shield, withdraw, and dim. Grandmother Raine’s present encourages me to flood my being with light, to surrender to radiance, to shine, shine, shine, and shine.

“Shine” Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

In my travels throughout the Toronto Public Library branches, I have admired the Rita Cox Black and Caribbean Heritage Collections at York Woods, Malvern, Maria Shchuka, and Parkdale. This morning I had the good fortune to observe the legendary Ms. Cox tell stories to a large group of children at Queen and Saulter Library.

She began her program at 10 o’clock with an interactive street rhyme, explaining the call and response structure. It went something like this:

Rita Cox: Did you milk my cow?

Children: Yes, ma’am.

Rita Cox: Will you tell me how?

Children: Yes, ma’am. (Children make milking motions and sounds of milk swishing into a pail).

Rita Cox: Did you milk her good?

Children: Yes, ma’am.

Rita Cox: What did you feed her?

Children: Corn and hay.

Rita Cox: Did my cow die? (Very sorrowful voice).

Children: Yes ma’am.

Rita Cox: How did she die?

Children: Aaaaack. Aaaack.

Rita Cox Did the buzzards come to pick her bones?

Children: (sadly) Yes, ma’am.

(end)

The next two stories were equally interactive but contained cheerier endings. One was about a funny little man who lived in a funny little house and spent his day playing hide and seek with a neighbour. When the funny little man looked up and looked down, Ms. Cox raised her arms and lowered them, encouraging the audience to mimic her movements. The other short story featured hand signs and gestures to illustrate important objects for baby: a ball, a hammer (!), soldiers, and a cradle.

Three entertaining longer stories rounded out the hour-long event. My favourite one was an island version of Little Red Riding Hood in which a little girl foils the dangerous Gunny Wolf by singing him to sleep as she picks flowers. Her tune contains the words “coom-qua-keen-wah,” the perfect combination of sounds to induce lupine drowsiness.

When the Gunny Wolf wakes up, he chases the girl, making the noise “unk-cah-cha” with his giant paws as he runs after her. (Rita Cox sang the girl’s flower-picking song gently but slapped her thighs with fierce wolf-claw hands when she imitated the running animal).

At the end of the story, the girl returns home safely and the Gunny Wolf complains that there’s nobody to sing him to sleep.

Cox asked the kids if they would like to sing him to sleep, and there was a chorus of “Yes!” However, one dissenting child said, “No!”

It was very warm in the large room with wooden floors above the Queen and Saulter Library, and after half an hour of listening to the storyteller’s wonderful voice, many of the kids had shifted from sitting on their jackets to reclining on them.

Responsive to the needs of the audience, Cox decided everyone had most likely had enough stories for the time-being, and around quarter to eleven, the children’s caregivers called for a water break and a stretch.

After a round of “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes,” Cox led the group in another energizing chant:

Rita Cox: (spreading arms wide) I have a large and funny hat and glasses on my nose. (Here, she curled her fingers into circles in front of her eyes). I have a long and furry beard that reaches down to my toes. (Mimes length of beard and then touches her toes).

I was sorry to miss the last ten minutes of the program, but I had to get back in time to go to work this afternoon. It was a privilege to observe a gifted educator in action as she enriched our morning with stories. Thank you Rita Cox and Queen and Saulter Library! I take my large and funny hat off to you!