Is it Possible Coherence has Something to do with Time?



I wish to tell the tale of God's Pocket. I wish to tell the tale of God's Pocket as I have told it in bits and pieces but never...

in coherence.



I quit my job, packed up my children, moved onto a boat and went out into the wilderness seeking anything that would take care.



I was desperately seeking Sigred. 



How do you take care in the wilderness? I don't know, I never found out. For a year we wandered. During our wandering year I worked cleaning bathrooms at a Marina.  My companion did a dream job working at a Maritime Museum for awhile. Mostly we wandered and eventually mostly we got holes in our socks. At the end of our wandering year, having found nothing substantive to take care, I stayed drunk for an entire two-week period. We did our Christmas in the fortress of Chatterbox falls and then...

defeated
...
we returned to the City.



A friend did us a favour, got a short chunk of work for Fred, lent us some more money and then Fred went back to school to learn how to be a security guard. I bought a skirt and some Dorothy shoes, got my hair cut, promised to be good, and sure enough...

after awhile
...
we ceased having holes in our socks.



Culture shock. 

Where we'd come from - the wilderness - the holes in our socks were a minor inconvenience. I re-learned how to darn. 

"Hands up now! How many know how to darn?

"

Back in the City the kids teased my daughter in school, potential employers frowned and muttered and strangers on the street were jittery around the holes in our socks. Any pride in a good darn was lost under a silver platter.



Fred finished school and got himself a job. 
I got a job too
...
and that job got me another job 
and that other job got me a good job.



We, or rather Fred, talked nicely to the banks and the credit card people. The government gave us bit of money. We bought socks without holes or darns in them and replaced our worn out shoes
...
and after awhile...

after we came back from the wilderness
...
we started to dream about things like brass fittings and feather pillows and stopped dreaming about things like endless beauty, hope and faith.



Don't think. Just work hard. Make Money. Be happy...

Don't think. Just work hard. 
These words became my mantra and then coherence. 

Out of the blue we got a call from God's Pocket.



From behind us, behind the Marina where Dowager is moored. Behind the corporate headquarters of a major financial institution. Behind the condo complex with the great big view. Behind all this...

Behind
...
Am I clear...

Behind...


Is a railroad track. 
This is where I take Ripley the Wonder Dog for walks. When Ripley the Wonder Dog and I go for walks I think. 
I thought about how I would feel when I had eventually to say, "I used to live in God's Pocket."



We came back from the wilderness in defeat and my companion went back to school and I found a good job and then out of the blue...

From behind...

Comes
...
God's Pocket.



We were offered a place to stay, enough money to pay the bills and feed the babies and a strong possibility of peace maybe more than one day out of every three. We wondered out loud Fred and I. We wondered about God's Pocket out loud with each other. We wondered about God's Pocket with my daughters, his sons. I wondered out loud about God's Pocket with my employer (Which granted me an unexpected bonus!) Fred wondered aloud about God's Pocket with the people on the dock. 



Finally after 22 or 27 or 18 or 28 days we got another phone call from God's Pocket.



"God's Pocket here" we were advised.



God's Pocket is so named as it is the first place of refuge from a storm on the coast of BC. Out further is only the Pacific Ocean. Queen Charlotte Sound.

God's Pocket.

We met the people from God's Pocket and I wondered out loud to them too.



"I think it would be hard to say, 'I used to live in God's Pocket'. Don't you?" I wondered to them. 



We didn't get the job. They decided to stay themselves. 

On more than one of my walks down the railway tracks with Ripley The Wonder Dog, I thought about writing a story called "Coherence". Coherence would tell the tale of a brave new beginning. The tale would be about searching, the tale would tell of wandering and despair, the tale would tell of a telephone call out of the blue from God's Pocket. The end of this tale "Coherence" would have our principal characters sailing happily ever after into the sunset with a final Epilogue of the youngest daughter scampering through the woods, her long hair flying behind her, free and happy, content, whole and totally undamaged.



Instead, coherence becomes something to do with time.



That's what you said last time.

Next time.

Long time.

Short time.
                                                            Timeless.       
                                                                    Timely.
 
Low on time.

Lots of time.
Dinner time.
                                                                                                                Bed time.
Bath time.
Give me some time!
                                                                        Time out.
Father Time.
Time for me.

                                                            Time for you.

Time for us.
Time on your side.
Time on your hands. 


Next time.


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