Silent Thunder

It was only a short time ago that our lives had been dramatically altered with a pandemic. Overnight, we were called upon to evaluate, to adjust and believe in the need to accept restrictions to the normal way our lives operated. Much of it was confusing; we followed a path through uncertainties. We were part of not just a local scenario but a global one. We had many advantages that were not available to past civilizations that faced similar life-challenging epidemics. We had communications like the Internet that ties voices, opinions and information for better and for worse. The voices and images told how we were not alone, and further reinforced the message of the terrific pluses that make Canada the country that it is.

One of the stories that last in my memory is seeing and hearing a postal worker sing an opera solo, an aria. Parked on a neighbourhood street in Toronto and while dressed in his everyday uniform and sitting behind the wheel in the driver’s seat of his postal delivery van, he rendered a melody on his phone to be shared with everyone. He sang a cappella— without accompaniment—with the same soulful voice that he would sing while standing on a stage in Italy as a cast member of Monteverdi’s opera L’Orfeo in 1607, the first to introduce the aria as we now know it.

Also during the pandemic there were the musicians that would perform safely from sidewalks and farm paddocks to audiences sitting on verandas or in their trucks. People outside of windows in heath care facilities reaching out through isolation to loved ones in quarantine and where health care professionals took on the extra role as surrogate family members for patients in their care.

Thanks to satellite communication there were a series of images that likely and deeply affected each one of us—the photos from space that illustrated how the air cleared almost overnight as traffic was halted in major cities around the world. There were the images of formerly hurried lifestyles quieted as the world stopped and freeways and expressways sat void of engine exhaust. We witnessed in real time how the environment can heal when given the chance to be out from under the massive and destructive bootprint of humankind, imprisoned as we are in a cult of materialism.

The music, the love and caring from strangers, the images of how the earth can readily heal were definitive signs of the truth of humanity, a truth that is not lost, a truth that shines in our everyday.

It was in that time of lockdown that the opportunity was afforded me to pursue a long held vision tucked away in the sock drawer of my imagination. It was the opportunity to walk with a donkey through the outback of a region. I had little idea of why I had a yearning to do this but that simply I needed to do it. It turned out that the donkey that came my way was a twelve-year-old standard bred named Thunder. We mustn’t leave out his brother Joe, as both donkeys were rescued animals that through that same truth of humanity were brought to safe haven here in the County.

I have had the good fortune to become best friends with the pair and the experience has been life changing. Now, over three years later, I continue to probe my subconscious to better understand the lessons that can be learned from these animals. Their genetics precede those of camels in the regions of North Africa where the species originates; they are beasts of burden that continue to serve multimillion populations and a billion dollar economy worldwide; they are legendary sentient beings written into mythology and folk tales in just about every language.

In recent time, a temporary physical pause in my walking schedule has left a void within that I plan to fill once again with donkey spirit this coming Saturday— Earth Day—a day set aside to pay tribute to the planet that is our home. I invite you to please join us on a short walk and the planting of a commemorative crabapple tree along the Millennium Trail which abuts the home of Thunder and Joe and the many animal spirits that grace the land of Prince Edward County. It will be our collective pause in appreciation of the lifegiving soil under our feet.

info@walkingwiththunder.com