Humainologie dialogue by Zoom tonight

Robert has circulated the structured topics for tonight’s dialogue along with the link to the Zoom meeting, and I’ll copy and paste that below, and below that my short story contribution, appended in writing, so that if necessary others can take the reading time as you’ll already have “The Night the Bed Shook” and can read it some other time at your leisure if you wish. Looking forward to zooming with you tonight, Arthur

2020 05 06 The Great Realisation

The Great Realisation, Discussion and Poetry

On Wednesday May 6, 2020 at 6:30 pm mountain time, join us on Zoom

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87682354430?pwd=MDdZeFE4TU9kdTFxTEZXYzJaTkpqZz09 Meeting ID: 876 8235 4430 Password: 023563

1. The Great Realisation by Tom Foolery - Greg

2. Stretching - Brian

3. Writing Project and poetry - Arthur

1. The Great Realisation by Tom Foolery (4 minutes)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nw5KQMXDiM4

· While watching this video, which questions came to mind?

· How can we make the pandemic a launching pad for a better world?

· “Everything happens for a reason.” We will make sense of this pandemic by how we respond to it. How are you changing your habits on account of the Covid-19 pandemic? – Arthur

· How do you envision a better world for us all?

· When we witness deterioration of our environment, loneness, anxiety, homelessness, populism, and corruption; how can we concretly intervene in our lives to make things better for us all? - Greg

2. Stretching and relaxation with Brian

3. Arthur’s Writing Project

Arthur’s writing project

Arthur, Odile, Nicolas will be sharing some their recent short writing productions

· Prince Arthur - Odile

· The Night the Bed Shook - Arthur

· An Epic Summer Journey - Nicolas

· Any other written stories or poems to share?

May you continue to remain safe and well.

Robert

The Night the Bed Shook

The evening light lingered along First Avenue. It was summer, and there would be days of fine weather for a while yet before the Calgary autumn, almost winter, returned. Outside their second-floor window Odette could see Janet Collins turn the corner onto Tenth Street. Janet had surprised Odette one evening last month when they were talking at a party in Barbara Darwish’s home – a moment almost like a confession from Janet. She had said that Odette and Charles seemed to have a perfect marriage. There was even a trace of envy in her tone and expression. Now as she watched Janet walk up Tenth Street, Odette shook her head and leaned back from the window.

She had only joyful memories of growing up in Casablanca. The world of her childhood in Morocco was seaside and mountains and sky. Her family vacationed in Meknès every summer. They stayed at the Hacienda, a modestly priced hotel. It was what they could afford. They weren’t wealthy, but life was breathlessly beautiful. The memory of Lehdim Square in Meknès would sometimes come flying back to her, the vastness and vitality of it. In the evenings they would go there with the Ricard family. There would always be music or jugglers or some other entertainment, then dinner with the Ricard family afterwards. Serge, their only son, was two years older than Odette. Yes, there had been a glimmer of childhood romance between them then.

She smiled as she remembered it. What freedom she had when they vacationed in Meknès! Every day was exhilarating, amid the old ruins and the maze of the town’s historic architecture, the red and green and blue of the arabesque in the courtyards, with their fountains, and the steep and winding streets like stories for children. Outside the Hacienda, on the horizon, were the mountains and above her was the open sky. Life itself was open to so many possibilities.

Downstairs she heard Charles closing the door. Well, he was home. She checked the stove. She could have everything on the table in ten minutes. He came up the stairs.

“Hello,” he said.

“How was your day?” Odette asked.

“About the same.”

“I’ll have dinner on the table in just a few minutes. I made a casserole. I think you’ll like it.”

“I know I’ll like it. I love your casseroles.” He went into the little room that he used as an office.

When the table had been set and the dinner was ready, Charles took his seat and asked her how her day had been. Instead of answering Odette said, “Would you like to go to the mountains next weekend?”

Charles thought for a moment. “Odette, you know I can’t. I have that court case on Tuesday. I have to focus on it this weekend.”

“If the weather is nice, we could even go for a hike.” As she presented the possibilities, she mimicked the emotionless tone of voice her husband always used when he presented the evidence after he had already made up his mind. “Or we could just stay in Banff,” she continued, “maybe have dinner there. We could invite Janet and Nathan.”

Charles didn’t answer. He was eating the casserole, not looking at her, even when he lifted the glass of red wine. He looked down or away.

“Did you see Nathan at the office today?” she asked.

“Yes. He’s working on a fairly complex criminal case.”

After dinner, as she cleared the table and washed and put away the tableware, Charles watched the late news, then a sitcom. It held no interest for her. “I’m just going for a walk,” she said. She was gone for more than an hour and when she returned Charles was already in bed. He soon fell asleep.

Beside him, she lay awake. There was the sound of an occasional car passing on First Avenue, its headlights reflected in the partially open window. She had to be ready to leave, she thought. As children in Morocco they were taught to be ready in case of an earthquake. Your clothes ready to throw on quickly, her blue shoulder bag packed and ready at the foot of the bed. Always. The year she’d been born, an earthquake had killed fifteen thousand people in Agadir. She had no memory of it, but her parents had said again and again, “Souvenez-vous d’Agadir!”

And then one night in Meknès it happened. She shared a room in the hotel with her brother and her parents. That night she woke with her bed shaking violently and a sound like thunder and the rattle of things in the room. Something fell off her night table and broke. Things were sliding across the floor.

“Odette! Philippe! Réveillez-vous!” her mother said sharply. Odette sat up on the edge of the bed. “Allez, levez-vous!” her father commanded and went to Philippe and shook him by the shoulder. She was surprised at how soundly her little brother could sleep.

As they hurried down the stairs to the hotel lobby, holding the bannister, she felt the staircase moving and saw the lobby itself undulating as if it were the surface of the sea. She was fully awake, alive, excited. She knew the ocean, the mountains, the stars. Now she felt the shaking of the earth itself.

“Tout le monde dehors!” the concierge was shouting.

Outside, there was moonlight. The tremors came at intervals. Between them, the minutes of sudden stillness were like the intermissions in a theatre play. She and Philippe and Serge ran into the garden of the hotel and chased each other, sometimes screaming in delight. They must have been outside most of the night, Odette thought.

What had become of Serge? she wondered. Philippe might know. She received a Christmas card each year from Philippe and Marie in Casablanca, with photos year by year of their three children. It had been such a long time since she had seen them. What had become of Serge?

Charles was snoring softly. At last she slept.

In the morning, Charles finished the breakfast she had made and picked up his briefcase from the sofa and turned toward the stairs. “See you this evening,” he said as he descended the staircase.

She glanced at the kitchen shelf, at the Christmas card she had received last year from Philippe and Marie and their children. Suddenly she walked to the top of the staircase and called down to her husband.

“Charles!”

“Yes, dear,” he said. He looked up at her.

“I’m going back to Casablanca.”

He looked down at his feet, then turned and walked out the front door. She ran down the stairs after him.

“Charles,” she called. He was about to get into his car. He looked up at her.

“We have to talk about this tonight,” she said.

He got into the car without a word and drove away.