Grace In The Air

 By Maryanna Gabriel 


I was reading a badly written article by a younger woman who felt the best way to bring back her long lost childhood experience of Christmas was to relegate her phone to some basket and give her friends goody bags if they did the same. This way they could actually talk to one another. Sigh. 

My personal technique is to get everything done in November so that when December dawns, it feels like January. No fear, though. I get my second wind. It's like having two Christmases. The bleakness of November is sprinkled with cheer and the remaining pistachio nuts, and by December, I am relaxed.

Sugar and spice....

This lady's article got me to thinking. Why does Christmas make me happy? I sat and wrote a whole page of silly stuff, the kind of stuff everyone says to themselves about eliminating stress and then thought, nah.... what am I really after here? C'mon Maryanna. Give me the goods. 

More than the crinkle of paper, the rum apple butter, the cookies, the lights, the kindness implied, the magic. For me? It's a certain something in the air. An angelic presence is the best I can describe it. Grace.

Whatever it is, it makes me happy. 

Into The Presence of Still Water

 By Maryanna Gabriel (well not really)

The Peace of Wild Things   

             

When despair for the world grows in me    
And I awake in the night to the least sound
In fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, 
I go and lie down where the wood drake rests
In his beauty on the water
And the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things
Who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.
I come into the prescence of still water,
And I feel above me the day blind-stars waiting with their light.
For a time I rest in the grace of the world, 
And I am free. 
        - Wendell Berry

Mail That Resonates Deeply

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

Sometimes people write to say they are walking the Camino and that my book inspired them. Letters like these are lovely to receive, and of course, I love it. This week when one came describing my writing and I was barrelling my way through phrases such as "profoundly human", "ache and release", "and allowing movement to become meaning" - huh? And then there was the "rain-soaked roads of France" (there weren't any). At the halfway mark of this gushing epistle, I stopped at the "emotional cartography of coming home to oneself" and "the true destination is inward" then backed up, my hackles rising. 

"Snap out of it," I told myself. "This fan mail is AI written." The wash of praise immediately shriveled and dried. "The scam is coming. The con. The hit." 

Yup.

Would I like to be part of her community and "resonate deeply" with those who find "solace in reflection" to say nothing of the "sacred ordinary of living and loss." Yeeeeeesh. Of course, she would promote me for a modest sum.

Okay, a time waster. I thanked her politely and moved on. Undetered, she wrote back, a veritable fount of flattery, which I can't be bothered to repeat. So I blocked her. The difference between artificial intelligence and that of humankind's is intuition. I'll be using mine, thanks. See ya later. 

The movie offers were the same. I was sort of hooked there too, but a former professor kindly straightened me out. The same outfit had also tried with him. One has to be so careful. 📫

Working On My Cosy

 By Maryanna Gabriel

A fresh month. The good thing about the beginning of November is that everything is new. The days of the month are still pure and undiscovered. Plus there is still time to work on goals. You know, set at the beginning of the year? Those goals. 

We have had some terrific storms, so now I am working on my cosy. Sweaters are being resurrected from the back of the closet. Then there is the fluffy dressing gown. The putting up of little lights, heaters warming, logs on the fire, lighting candles. In the kitchen there is soup and baking, and satiating a yearning for hot cereal. Have taken to watching old British shows as I knead dough. Not sure why my sourdough starter is not very thick.

 And getting crafty with the turn of the season...cards to make, sewing, and needle work to think of. The joy of curling up with a soft blankie and a hot cuppa with a good book. And I am listening to music more. Last night I was dreaming of music.

So,the deep dive of this interior time has a lot to be said for it.  

Home - Siga Siga...

 By Maryanna Gabriel

I met the kindest British couple on the first leg of my journey home who shared their plane picnic with me which was heartening. The final leg in crossing the Atlantic was alarming, not just from discomfort, but with the awareness I had caught a cold. Not only did I have to negotiate the extreme agony of cramped air time, but I also had to catch a ferry. Catching a Gulf Island ferry tries the patience with the wait times at the best of times and I was very tired with sleep in twenty four hours. My cold worsened.

Now I am home in a state of collapse and very sick. Fortunately, an understanding friend is here, bless her, and she has left me with milk and precooked food. A winter storm arrived today and they are predicting thunder storms. This morning, I feel stronger and have laid a fire in the wood stove. My friend and I will sip our morning coffee and sit by the warmth, quietly chatting about this and that, as dry wood crackles.

I will never forget the hospitality I encountered. The kindness of the people of Greece ride with me. Now I have to decode many mysterious scribbles on many pages. But all that will unfold. I have experienced an easier way of living, different from here, slowly slowly - or as they say in Greek, siga siga. Maybe, just maybe, I can hold to that. 

"In the shade of the olive tree I rested, 
and heard the wind singing." 
- Cretan Folk Song

Lake Kournas

 By Maryanna Gabriel

I decided if I was a movie star, Santorini would be the absolute last place I would choose. Crowds and intense sun are not my thing. Although glad I had the experience, the more I think about it, the more astounded I am by Greek generosity and although some are making money of course, the tourism onslaught is brutal. My inderstanding is that Santorini is getting ready to regulate visitors, most especially from the cruise ships.

The next day, I chose to go to the only fresh water lake on Crete and to see historic Chania. Chania is known for it's Venetian occupation which left a mark on some of the architecture. I enjoyed their famous Bougatsa, a delicious pastry.

In the morning, I waited for the bus, but when two minutes ticked past the appointed hour, I knew something was wrong. I ran back to the hotel. The concierge made a call. I had misunderstood where to meet them and the bus was actually sitting there waiting for me. Who does that? Something like this would never happen in Canada. People care here. There is a strong sense of family, community, honour, and honesty. Falling all over myself with thank you's I took my seat, grateful not to miss the day.

 I confess, I was overwhelmed by the big city of Chania. The lake itself turned out to be a clayish affair, not inviting to swim in and again completely catering to tourists. I was glad I saw it, but I was also glad I was coming home. 

Santorini: Three

 By Maryanna Gabriel


As one walked, tiny skinny men said "Excuse" in an anxious sort of way. I would turn and quickly yield for they were laden with suit cases. These men are doing what mules used to, running to wherever, with great heavy bags. Not sure as to why using humans is considered a better alternative, I sought out a WC only to find a line up and that I had to pay. Just grateful I was taken care of, I munched on a bland sandwich given by my hotel, worrying it was ham, and boarded a new bus.

I was confused. I had chosen to do the "option" and I had no idea what that entailed except that it somehow involved a volcano. I was thinking we were going to the caldera and that I might see the Santorini museum. Long before Pompeii, Santorini experienced a rupture in 1650 BCE that was the largest in global history which vanquished the rich Minoan civilization that lived here.

But no. That wasn't it. I was being herded back to the harbour. A woman in front of me filmed the breakneck turns we were making and I confess I gasped twice as we narrowly missed vehicles. We were directed onto a beautiful wooden ship, maybe 60 feet long, and this was fine with me. It helped me to relax and I took in the sea air.

Our guide sounded drunk and I had absolutely no idea what he was saying. What happened next was a surprise. We dropped anchor at a volcanic "outcrop", an island of black rock laced with yellow sulphuric water. On one edge of the pumice a tiny Greek Orthodox Church was perched. People were pouring drinks, playing loud music, and jumping into the water and swimming into the warm yellow sulphur. No thanks. What if things started venting? I was relieved when we pulled away.

Santorini: Two

 By Maryanna Gabriel


Despite the beauty and charm, I could find myself bridling at being in a crowd as we wended our way along narrow alleys. Moreover, with these things, there is the constant threat of getting lost and being left behind.

Movie stars lived in this place. I could see a wedding going on. An Asian lady with unnaturally enhanced padding on certain strategic body parts was being photographed by a professional. It was difficult to stop and take a breath as people pushed from behind. Stopping to explore a shop, or for a meal, felt impossible as I tried to take it all in, carefully monitoring the time. 

Santorini: One

 By Maryanna Gabriel


I had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that I was travelling on a "catamaran" for this quite expensive excursion. The catamaran turned out to seat at least a thousand people. Rather bewildered, I sat down. But oh, no. Everyone had an assigned seat. Once again, I marvelled at the care taken with making expressos and the array of handmade baked goods. We plowed through the Mediterranean from Heraklion, Crete, for two hours towards our destination.

Three enormous cruise ships were anchored in the harbour.  At first I thought that the white on the cirque above us was snow until I realized they were buildings. The sheer vertical cliff from the harbour to the top was an eye watering pitch. 

We disgorged and were herded onto busses and I noted there were many. The ascent was mesmerizing as other vehicles gave way while the driver negotiated impossibly sharp hair pin turns. Just how many people visit this place a year? From the cruise ships, 17,000 per day. So millions. 

We were taken to a place known as Oia, "where every picture is a post card". I think you will agree they made good on this promise.

Time To Fly

By Maryanna Gabriel

"Uncontained the dream expands
further across the seas..."
                                            - Dr. Harilaos Stefanakis A Burning Life

My heart full, and with words floating out of all bounds in my head and on paper, we have had to say goodbye. I am blown away by the warmth, the hospitality, and the support I have experienced. Everything that has unfolded has exceeded my expectations.

Now my time is coming to a close. I am fortunate in that I was able to book a tour to famous Santorini  and I will write about it as well as the experiences that ensued. For now though, I need to catch a plane - a daunting overseas prospect. I can do better justice from my laptop at home rather than this one finger action going on at the moment. 

Greece, you are in my heart. The people here have been as astonishing as the country. These are Greek cats playing with my luggage. There are cats everywhere…

Mati

 By Maryanna Gabriel

We are predominantly Canadian attendees and I was happily surprised that my room mate also walked the Camino - a real bond.

My room in a  restored home.

Our accommodation is in a beautifully renovated historic building in the heart of the town. Our hostess has helped us understand that during the war the Nazis used this building as their headquarters. Crete had a hard time during the war, and other wars too for that matter. She is a passionate historian and also gave us an in depth presentation on Nikos Kazantzakis which helped augment our cultural appreciation.

Greek prayers sometimes emerged from this church outside the front door. And bells.

We have also been exposed to other aspects of Crete through our mentor, guide, and workshop leader. One of our excercises has been to discover the local cuisine which we enthusiastically embraced. There is a Greek word I have learned - mati, which means with “care and attention”. We have been treated with care and attention on many levels and my heart is warm from this amazing writing workshop.

In front of my room at night in Panormos.

Sensing The Ancients

 By Maryanna Gabriel

“… in walking over the ancient grounds of Knossos so super-abundantly rich, so embroiled with life and death, that I find myself unable to analyze it clearly…” Nikos Kazantzakis

Zeus sleeping on Mount Juktas.

In case you were wondering about his whereabouts, I have just found out that Zeus is sleeping on a mountain overlooking the Palace of Knossos in Crete. 

I learned about this famous place long ago in an art history class and have always been curious about it. It was a neolithic settlement that evolved into all the hallmarks of civilization with agriculture, trade, writing, culture, and wonderful myth. We were lucky to get in when the morning was cool before tour groups thickened and swelled. 

I stood amid the cypress and pine and tried to sense the ancients. Not much luck, I’m afraid. Later, we were entreated to some of the archaeological finds within the Heraklion Museum. The later Minoans who lived in the palace were playful with their art and often depicted whimsical sea themes.

Photo credit: Peter Levesque

“Now looking through the slanting light of the morning window toward the mountain presence of everything that can be…” David Whyte