Homebodies - Thrumming in my consciousness
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- Published on Sunday, February 21, 2016
By Rita Friesen
The Neepawa Banner
There is a word swirling around in the depths of my consciousness, thrum, thrumming. I think it took root when I reflected on the words from the song ‘How then shall I live’, ‘heard a sound outside of my listening, felt the living hum of the ground.’ There have been moments when I have been very aware of the hum of the surface beneath my feet. Somehow the word ‘thrum’ more accurately captures the sensation of those times.
I have become more familiar with the Brandon Regional Hospital. There are places on site, if you simply stand, you can feel the hum, thrum, of the innards of the structure. Walking the underground corridor to the cafeteria one can hear the beat of the hospital’s heart more so than feeling it. But at other locations I can feel the vibrations coming up through the soles of my feet and filling my soul with the wonder of the workings of modern buildings and sense their purpose.
The other place that this sense of awe at the life of a building, and all those within it, fills me is when I stand behind a pulpit. The floor vibrates in response to the majestic music of organ, piano and voice. There are times when I still my voice and relax into the hum/thrum of the moment. Just as the hospital floor transmits the mystery of the place and purpose so does the floor beneath my feet as I stand in the presence of God, amid the people of God.
I have always been a ‘child of the universe’, loving the outdoors, being more myself there than anywhere else. I can retreat in a moment to the scent and sound and sensation of being a mere slip of a young thing, nestled in the crook of a tree, book in hand, dog at the base of the tree, and yes, faithful 22 right beside me. (My dad believed that if I was going to spend vast amounts of time in the bush by myself I would know how and when to use a gun. A different time) The gentlest of wind would have the aspen leaves revealing deep and wondrous secrets. The whipping winds of winter allowed me to sense its power as the entire tree swayed and bent, in survival mode. I learned from that as well. And then there was the first time I stood on an outcropping of rock overlooking a mountain waterfall. There, the earth shook and trembled and remained steadfast. There, too, I was in awe of the living hum of the ground.
A few days ago, one of my daughters posted a photo of me enjoying a marvel of light and movement at the Edmonton Art Gallery. Beneath it my sister, the elder, commented,’She has the ability to be amazed at small beauties and to manage enormous crisis’. May it always be so.
