Signs and Omens

This is an excerpt from a work in progress:

If it happens once more, I will have to go.

Sometimes signs are easy, everyday things remind you to pay attention to the larger events happening around you.

Sometimes they are hard, despite everything we work very hard at seeing things the way they are most comfortably digested. When they become so broad and heavy that we can no longer overlook them, we kick ourselves for refusing to pause and consider their meaning. And we endure the consequences.

At other times, I think we see indicators and skip the step where we think about what they mean. Instead we go directly to the action. I think there is a kind of grace in that.

Three days before they announced the bus strike I felt compelled to do everything I would normally do in a month by bus over the span of three days or rather, three evenings, after work.
I bought heavy things, went to distant stores, stocked up on flour, potatoes, things that come in bottles or cans; dill pickles, liquor, tomato sauce. I filled the freezer with meat and frozen vegetables, went to the bank machine, bought long distance phone cards, laundry soap, tinfoil, batteries and boots.

It was exhausting; every day I would remember things that, it seemed, I needed urgently. I felt pressed. Objectively there was no reason to think this way; the bus is something one assumes will simply carry on more or less uninterrupted forever. I suppose, as a person who routinely takes the bus to work, I must have noticed the signs of it coming despite the news story about how rarely transit strikes occur and how, with a seven per cent raise already on the table, neither side anticipated any cause for concern. Negotiations would be routine and swift.

In retrospect, as impatient as I was with myself, I am grateful for the impulse. More than once, I have noticed that what people declare turns out to be exactly the opposite of what turns out to be true. Maybe it’s karma teaching us all lessons, maybe it’s human nature to cling most tightly to the things we know we do not really have – either way, I think it is always a good idea to question any claim volunteered with such offhanded vehemence.

It still seems impossible for me to believe there are things within my community that have been rendered out of reach for the duration of the strike. The National Gallery is now a day trip, I usually walk one way and take the bus the other. With no bus, that means a solid two hours of walking in the snow. Added to the time spend walking around the gallery itself, it is simply too much. I have had to plan for my monthly cycle and lay in a stock of supplies since, unless I am going into the office my particular brand of tampons are out. They are widely available downtown but living, as I do, on Ottawa’s ethnic fringe, brand names tend to be a little less familiar to me. However, I will not want for Chinese, Italian, Indian, Malaysian or African food or supplies and that has its own appeal.

Friday night I walked home from work.It was a long and difficult walk and although I had done all the heavy shopping I could, I could not lay in a store of everything and needed milk. This meant a stop at the grocery store near downtown which made the walk even longer. I remembered my mother suggesting I stop for coffee or a rest somewhere along the way if the walk home was too cold or difficult and dismissed it. No need to be weak.

It was snowing and the sky was completely white – no moon or stars at all and the wind was getting fierce. Although I did not need anything more, I remembered my mother’s advice and thought a stop at the Chinese grocer could qualify as a little break even though it is very close to my apartment. When I arrived at the door, I just stepped inside. Once there, I bought a few things, limes, green onions, pepper, noodles. It was reassuring to see the fresh vegetables, the butcher’s counter, the fish section, well stocked and prepared. It was reassuring to see the crowd bustling and shopping as though nothing could ever happen to really disrupt their weekly routine.

At the checkout counter I scanned the pastry display. There were the usual assortment of things that might or might not go well with coffee. I chose a small package of ornately detailed moon cakes. They are always available and there are other pastries I like more but it seemed like the right thing to do – it seemed unavoidable. When I feel a particular urge to eat sweets I buy the ones that are not my favourites as a means of portion control – silly, but it seems to work.

Later that night my mother called again. She asked if I could see the moon. I told her the snow was falling thick and fast and at this time of year I do not count on seeing the moon for a week at a time. It seemed like this was going to be one of those weeks.

She told me that was really a shame since the full moon was at perigee and would not be this close again for 15 years. Somehow, without knowing, the animal side of me must have known that. My stepmother is Chinese and I try to offer a nod of respect to Chinese traditions whenever I think of it.

In a typical symbolic reversal, mooncakes are traditionally eaten to remind us of reunion. They are made to be eaten during the autumn moon festival but, like fruitcake, are available year-round. I have never heard the stories associated with them but because it was such a strange coincidence that I would seek out these particular cakes on this particular day, I decided to look it up.

On Wikipedia, I found this story:

"A long, long time ago, a terrible drought plagued the earth. Ten suns burned fiercely in the sky like smoldering volcanoes. The trees and grass were scorched. The land was cracked and parched, and rivers were dried. Many people died of hunger and thirst.

The King of Heaven sent Hou Yi down to the earth to help. When Hou Yi arrived, he took out his red bow and white arrows and shot down nine suns one after another. The weather immediately turned cooler. Heavy rains filled the rivers with fresh water and the grass and trees turned green. Life was restored and humanity was saved.

One day, a charming young woman Chang'er made her way home from a stream, holding a bamboo container. A young man came forward, asking for a drink. When she saw the red bow and white arrows hanging round his belt, Chang'er realized that he was their savior, Hou Yi. Inviting him to drink, Chang'er plucked a beautiful flower and gave it to him as a token of respect. Hou Yi, in turn, selected a beautiful silver fox fur as his gift for her. This meeting kindled the spark of their love. And soon after that, they got married.

A mortal's life is limited, of course. So in order to enjoy his happy life with Chang'er forever, Hou Yi decided to look for an elixir of life. He went to the Kunlun Mountains where the Western Queen Mother lived.

Out of respect for the good deeds he had done, the Western Queen Mother rewarded Hou Yi with the elixir, a fine powder made from kernels of fruit which grew on the tree of eternity. At the same time, she told him that if he and his wife shared the elixir, they would both enjoy eternal life; but if only one of them took it, that one would ascend to Heaven and become immortal.

Hou Yi returned home and told his wife all that had happened and they decided to drink the elixir together on the 15th day of the eighth lunar month when the moon was full and bright.
A wicked and merciless man named Feng Meng overheard their plan. He wished Hou Yi an early death so that he could drink the elixir himself and become immortal. His opportunity finally arrived. One day, when the full moon is rising, Hou Yi was on his way home from hunting. Feng Meng killed him. The murderer then ran to Hou Yi's home and forced Chang'er to give him the elixir. Without hesitating, Chang'er picked up the elixir and drunk it all.

Overcome with grief, Chang'er rushed to her dead husband's side, weeping bitterly. Soon the elixir began to have its effect and Chang'er felt herself being lifted towards Heaven.

Chang'er decided to live on the moon because it was the nearest to the earth. There she lived a simple and contented life. Even though she was in Heaven, her heart remained in the world of mortals. Never did she forget the deep love she had for Hou Yi and the love she felt for the people who had shared their sadness and happiness."

There is more symbolic resonance for me in this story than I can possibly relate.

History is full of examples of people taking signs and omens from the world around them. We congratulate ourselves that we would never be so superstitious as to act on the little stories nature and circumstance tell us every day but I wonder if instead of telling ourselves and our intimates about these stories, about our interpretations and about the action we plan to carry out in order to fulfill our part in the greater story being told - if we haven’t simply buried them so deeply that now we act on them without even realizing what we are doing.

We move under the same ancient sky, within the cup of the same seasons, buffeted by the same disasters and kissed by the same blessings as anyone who came before us ever did. I think it is a mark of the all-too-human tendency to think we are always getting better than our ancestors to assume we are prompted to act in a way that is somehow more effective by merit of being more rational. Everybody thinks they are rational. If they thought otherwise, they would act otherwise and thus return to at least an internal sense of reason. And if that sense of reason could not find a place and a way to function with the consent of others in the world, those people would live in institutions or on the street. nevertheless, they would still consider themselves to be reasonable.

Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. Likewise, people who are influenced never understand the root of it or the influence wouldn’t work. The people who lived before us thought they had reached the apex of civilization, sense and reason and they were right.

Now we think the same. We are right too and we are at the same time, absolutely wrong just as the people who thought the earth was supported by four dragons were right and wrong – just as the people who come after us will look back and find us silly for seeing cause and effect where they know none exists.

To see the world as being flat and dangerous at the edges is not such an irrational thing in a society where travel by ship is the only means of covering great distances and perishable food cannot be adequately preserved. Death by malnutrition or thirst must be a very fearsome dragon to face. Maybe death was the dragon at the edge of the world – maybe it still is. We speak the language we know. How can anyone do otherwise?

I am trying to wake up, trying to see. Nevertheless, I am aware that my ability to do so is limited by my small and specific perspective as one human being trapped within the amber of time.

Still – if it happens once more, I think I will have to go.