Ken in the Wilderness This week, I spent a morning revisiting my artist father, Ken Phillips’, Ruined Orchard series of oil sketches. As I looked, I could see how it was for him then. When he set out that September morning to the dying orchard, my father would have been heading deep into his own …
Camp Bolton Sometimes the most powerful learning experiences come in the most unexpected ways. More than fifty years ago, I was accepted as a junior volunteer counsellor at what was then called Bolton Camp for Underprivileged Kids. In late June I went for an afternoon’s interview in a downtown Toronto office, where a supervisor sat …
Walking Blind On this, my eightieth year, there are no maps for me. I’m walking blind. How long will I be able to continue living at Singing Meadow, my soul place? Where will I go when I no longer can stay here? How would I ever live without the sound of the wind in the …