Bøker av Peter Norman Levesque

Keeping it Together I love movies. Not all movies but many. I have a particular fondness for movies with a rogue main character who does the right thing despite having desires that would take him (or her) elsewhere. (Think Casablanca.) What really fascinates me about movie production is that the stars are what everyone focuses on but when the credits roll by, there are dozens of names. Most of these people would never be recognized walking on the streets of Hollywood, New York, Mumbai, or Montreal. They are the grout that holds the whole thing together. It is easy to notice the tiles on the floor or the pieces of a mosaic on the wall. They are the stars of the show. However, without the grouting that holds them all in place, the floor cracks and the mosaic falls apart. Much of the details of life are handled by unseen people. The prep cook in the kitchen, the bus company maintenance technicians and payroll clerks, the baggage handlers sweating it out at Heathrow, LaGuardia, or Pearson, the assembly line of nimble-fingered people putting our latest mobile devices together, billions of people just doing what they can to stay alive and feed their families. As I travel the world and wander from place to place, I enjoy finding busy cafés, putting myself into a quiet corner, and watching people. I find the lives of "ordinary" people compelling. There is really nothing ordinary. It is all special. Each of us is made of the same basic elements: oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and sulfur (the bulk elements), and a little sodium, magnesium, potassium, calcium, chlorine, and phosphorus (the macrominerals). Literally, stardust. Somehow, magic happens, life sparks and we hear babies cry, children laugh, parents dream, and widows cry. Books are written, movies produced, plays played, music explodes from stages and boomboxes - yet all of it wrapped around the miracle of ordinary lives.My poetry is a tribute to the humbler moments in life. There is beauty in the lines of grout that keep the shiny tiles in place. There is heroism in doing a simple job as well as one can. There is courage in waking up every morning and doing that thing that feed your children. There was a time when I would look to the movie stars, the millionaires, the public figures and think, oh to be like them and live that life. I no longer do that. Of course, I admire success, but I now know that behind every public celebrity are hordes of people who are working hard to make it all appear like magic. As I write this, I am aware that so many lives have been welded together to make this device I am using, to create a network that connects me to world, to maintain the taxi I will take later, who assembled the airplane I will board, who grew the food I will eat onboard, so many lives, and so much energy, all connected to each other. We really are one world. What keeps us apart is important to see but it is less important that what keeps us together. I thank you for taking the time to read this work. I am so pleased that you have included me on your journey through this life. Hope you enjoy. All my best, Peter

The Burst of Spring I live in a region of Canada with a semi-continental climate. This means we have a warm, humid summer and a very cold winter. By cold, I really mean severe. The type of cold that freezes any moisture from my breath so that ice forms on my beard and icicles grow off my eyelashes. Despite this, winter can be beautiful, even magical when it chooses to be. When the sky is bright, the snow reflecting the low-hung light, icicles dripping onto sheets of translucent ice, it feels like a movie that I get to play in. Winter is however, not my favourite season. Winter can be astoundingly mean and shows very little mercy to creatures who have not prepared for her wrath. My favourite seasons are the in-betweens - spring and fall. Spring is especially enthralling. It is a hopeful season, full of life and promise. In particular, the smell of forest floors, newly thawed, still wet, promising life returning in all its forms. There is a green that astounds me every spring. The burst of light green from new buds of the native Canadian birch tree, commonly called Paper Birch, makes me smile broadly every spring. This beautiful, slender tree also goes by the name of Canoe Birch, White Birch, Silver Birch and Spoolwood. The official botanical name is Betula Papyrifera. It seems to happen overnight. Driving on Highway 416 between Prescott and Ottawa in early spring is dreary. The sky is grey. The forests seem dull except for the evergreens that poke their branches between their brown and grey deciduous cousins. The snow is still stubborn in the shade under their branches, threatening to call more snow from the skies to prolong what has already been a long winter. Then it happens. The papery bark of the birch seems to shine and bright shades of light green appear on their branches. This burst of green seems to float just above the branches, appearing as some magical fairy aura about to make a spell. Magic then does happen. Suddenly, within days, birds appear in flocks of hopeful lovers seeking to nest for the season. Squirrels and chipmunks argue with each other, their chittering rivaling the floor of the New York Stock Exchange in the ferocity of who owns which pile of seeds or nuts. Young deer poke their heads out from the tangles of brambles and vines, hesitant to venture too far from their mothers, but venture they do. This is the story of spring. The burst of green in all the shades. The burst of young life emerging into their wanderings. The burst of love seekers wanting to find their mate for the season and maybe for life. While I am not young, firmly in the fall of my life and seeing my winter on the horizon, I feel reborn every spring. In this rebirth, I feel the need to create life, if not biologically, at least in verse. Writing these poems is my version of that bird singing his song, or the deer seeking a pasture to roam and graze, or the hyperactive squirrel seeking new locations for his franchises of seedbanks. Life is a continual cycle of birth and rebirth. I feel like I have lived many lives. This life is exceptionally sweet. There is love in my life. While I am no longer as strong as my younger version, I feel that I have earned more wisdom and certainly have learned the power of humour (especially in consideration of self). Thank you for joining me on this journey. I hope you enjoy. All my best, Peter

Good Fortune It was my good fortune to be born in Canada. It was just luck. Fate if you wish. My birthday is even on the same date as we celebrate the founding of the country, July 1st. Fireworks and parades on my birthday are always a treat. I love this place but I am not naïve about it. Much of the mythology of Canada is a fiction of Colonial powers that engaged in war and genocidal acts on the native populations that lived here before and after my ancestors showed up in 1672. I think we should all read the report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. It opened my eyes, mind, and heart. Despite this history, Canada is filled with lovely people. We live on beautiful land that for the most part, if you respect the animals and weather, it won't kill you. It does get cold. But not always and the glories of spring mean that as soon as it hits 10 degrees Celsius, the patios open up and people are wearing shorts. The title of this book was a little quip I made watching my friends Jeff and Christine Thomson boil maple tree sap in their homemade boiler named Sapzilla. I said: "If you really wanted to you could fill the hot tub and go swimming in maple syrup". We laughed but the image stuck. Swimming in Maple Syrup is my fourth collection of poems and meditations. It is deeply personal but I feel that sharing is the best way to grow as a poet and author. I enjoy my life and have the blessings of a good family and kind friends. For this I am grateful. Becoming a poet was a surprise to me. I never imagined that this is what I would be doing in my late 50s. Before 2019 I had a career that consisted of teaching at a university, running a professional Institute, and working with clients on issues that could improve their performance. I loved what I was doing but suddenly it all burnt down. My wife of 29 years, Penny, died suddenly at the beginning of 2019. While I continued to work and hoped to recover, as we know 2020 brought the COVID-19 pandemic to our doorsteps in Canada. Again, suddenly, the work I loved was halted or modified to this new reality. As I was coping and adjusting, like so many around the world, at the beginning of 2021 I suffered a minor heart attack. It was while lying in ICU that it was time to make a change. I took 2021 to rest and thought that retirement was the answer but it wasn't. I just needed rest and to reimagine how I wanted to be in this new reality. My new reality is kinder to me and the world around me. My days are filled with writing, travel, seeing friends and family, and occasionally helping out on projects that present themselves to me. Poetry is a prayer that I write every day. It feels holy. I feel connected to the world around me. Observing what I see, feel, and think. Then writing about it. Sometimes it touches other people and they send me little notes that say things like: "I will share this with my son." or "You have captured a feeling that I have been trying to express." These little notes are lovely and make me smile. Lots make me smile these days. My ambition is simply to be honest with myself and thus with you also. Thank you so very much for picking up this book. Hope you enjoy. All my best, Peter

This is Volume 3 of Poems and Meditations by Peter Norman Levesque. It follows The Wisdom of Shepherds and Tossing Pebbles along the Shoreline. Respect is Not Hard Work I respect people who work hard to feed their families. Often their own dreams have been put aside. Not because their dreams are not important to them but because their families are more so. Much of the work I have done after I turned 30 has been high profile, clean, and well paid but not always. Some of the mind-numbing and soul-stealing work I have done includes include what we used to call Joe-jobs. Working in sales at a failing company. Picking weeds around hospital grounds. Digging out the cracked foundations of houses built on clay that shifted, to be patched and sealed. Digging trenches in the Army and marching for hours in the hot July sun, in anticipation that someone attacks Canada. Calling people at dinner time to ask them stupid questions for some client's poll. Trying to get Family Doctors to see me to answer questions about ads for pharmaceutical companies. I see hard-working people every day, everywhere, in all sorts of jobs. When I was young, I thought that I would never do that. Then I grew up. Recessions happen. I had a family. I worked 50-80 hours a week for the better part of a decade to keep my family fed, housed, and clothed. It made me both humbler and more appreciative of those around me. When someone serves me coffee, I say thank you for your help. When I drive through a construction zone, I slow down because those people working in high-viz vests deserve to be safe. Cashiers get eye contact, a smile, and thank you. Let the buses merge into the lane. Thank the flight attendants and tell them they did a good job. We are all in this together and no one gets out alive. There are millions of people just getting by. They are rarely celebrated. We celebrate business dudes with big bank accounts and bigger mouths who think that someone paying their taxes is a sucker. How did we get here? The flashy lights and clean windows of the big boxes are a draw, I get it. Lots of selections and great prices but at what cost? Who is making that product that seems too good to be true? There is something deeply beautiful in a little corner store owned by a family. Often two or three generations work together to keep it going. My favourite Pho restaurant is family owned by "boat people" who came over from Vietnam after the war. They made it. Not rich but comfortable. My favourite produce is from a local farm. I get my suits and shirts from a store named after the owner's grandfather. He is proud to keep it going. Not everyone is so lucky. Some people don't make it home. I remember working in a mall and someone was killed by the trash compacter because the failsafe switch did not work. On Highway 401, during a winter storm, a transport truck rolled over on black ice and the driver was killed. The owner of a shoe store in a small town couldn't make payroll two months in a row because sales were bad, he took his own life hoping insurance would help his family. It didn't. Hard work is not some romantic idea. It is a practical effort to make it to the next day, week, month, and year. I believe in collective programs to help people make it. Employment insurance, workplace compensation, health and safety regulations, and workplace standards, but mostly, I believe we need to be kind to each other. We are not commodities and we are not gadgets. Hard work sometimes kills people. It shouldn't but it does. This volume was not hard work in that sense. It was small acts of love and attention paid to moments of my life. It is my third volume in what I hope is a lifetime to come of loving and observing the world around me. Thank you for the time you devote to reading it. I hope it makes you smile or think of how you live your own life. Be safe.

A collection of poems and weekly meditations by Peter Norman Levesque. Following the sudden death of my wife in 2019, writing became a way to process grief. In the writing process emerged joy and an honest facing of how to be in the world. The emergence of the Covid-19 pandemic only amplified these feelings that writing is an expression of the place where the mind, body, and soul meet. Since starting, my practice or writing has grown into a daily seeing of threads that I pull and reveal something - sometimes profound, sometimes banal - but always appreciated.