2012 Vermont State Ultimate Championships

2012 Vermont State Ultimate Championships

by Kelly (of rituals) ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
Lyndon Institute, Northeast Kingdom

Okay, I was wrong. Frisbee players aren’t all pot-smoking loafers. In fact, when the family and I took the long drive up to the Northeast Kingdom to check out the Vermont State Championships, we were delighted by the positive energy on the field.

Ultimate Tournament Staff delivering water

Actually, there were surprisingly several fields–upon which several teams played at once–each with its own entourage of tents and coolers and water jugs and nomadic fans–who packed up the belongings and moved at the end of each game , like a caravan through the desert, though this was the lush, green hills of the northernmost part of the state, approaching the Canadien border.

Who knew there were so many highschool Ultimate Frisbee teams in Vermont–28 represented today!  What struck me most about this spectacularly coordinated event was the air of festivity–as evidenced in the joviality of the players–with cheers and antics and most notably–song. Teams actually sang to one another. It was a bit like Monty Python meets Morris Ale meets the pasture–rolling hills and fence posts and the like.

That said, the team playing against our own Brattleboro Honey Badgers was–intense–with several highschool-aged coaches & the like about to burst an artery–while screaming at their own players. Not only did they lose, by quite a bit, but they got a zero from our team for “Spirit”–on a scale of 1 to 5.

Honey Badger Spirit

Yes, there was actually a score for “Spirit,” which provided yet another facet to appreciate about this sport that I had once pooh-poohed. In fact, each team was to assign a “Spirit Captain” who was provided a special cap to identify him to others, as he was to receive “amnesty from coach-wrath when correcting a coach or team’s actions.”

The Captain’s role was to ensure that his own team was “playing fair, keeping language in check, not spiking the disc, and most importantly–not making calls from the sidelines.”

Alas, the Badger’s didn’t have an official coach, just one of their own players, and neither were they sanctioned or supported by their own highschool, though not for lack of trying. The kids did it all on their own under leadership of a couple determined seniors–scheduled practices, arranged fields, ordered uniforms, provided their own transportation to games and tournaments–like this one–a 4 and a half-hour round trip.

While at first the Honey Badgers were frustrated not to receive the same benefits that the football or the baseball or even the tennis players might ultimately, I think, they enjoyed their freedom. There were no eligibility requirements (like grades or behavior), or mandatory practices, and they had fun with their uniforms–choosing odd numbers (like 666) and odder names (like Midnight, Sauerkraut, Cowgirl and Spaghett.)

While the intensity of opposing team blew away any thoughts I had of frisbee as entirely laid-back,  there was a game going on behind us with another team from our neck of the woods–a private school known for independent thinking (and very limited competitiveness)–who could be overheard gently shouting, suggesting really, “Be aggressive,” as if they weren’t sure it was at all necessary (or possible.)

Our own team had a similar friendly edge, for when their game point was contested, they  eagerly acquiesced–just to be able to play a bit longer.  This afternoon in Lyndon, Vermont was the last time on the field for the seniors on the team,  and all of the Honey Badgers were eager to hold on to what they created together, with little acknowledgement to the day of wins.

Kelly Salasin, May 2012

Lyndon Center, Vermont

2012 USA Ultimate Vermont High School Ultimate Championships

Richard at The River Garden

Richard at The River Garden

by Kelly (of rituals) ♥ 3 Comments

Note: This post was written in the year following the murder at the Co-op. In the comments that ensued below, readers suggest the naivete of–Richard at the River Garden–saying that I do not understand the magnitude of his act.  What about the Rwandans? 

Finally, there is news of Richard Gagnon, and the trial that we have been dreading–and waiting for–so that we might put this nightmare behind us.

But alas, the news is that the trial is tentatively set for: fall–more than a year after Richard shot and killed a fellow co-worker in our community co-op.

The new store will be open by then, and perhaps the old one will be demolished; but of course, there is no demolishing the loss we have suffered.

It’s true that we can now walk into the Co-op, and just for a moment, forget that it ever happened. We can almost step foot into the wine department without thinking of Richard. We might be able to complete an entire round in the store without a thought of the back office where blood was shed. (Who can imagine having to work back there?  Wouldn’t we be the first to volunteer to begin the demolition? With a vengeance.)

My heart aches when I think of this trial and all it represents; and all it avoids.

Of course, Richard was mentally ill when he shot his boss. Anyone who shoots another human being must be mentally impaired. The level of guilt assigned by the courts is irrelevant to Michael Martin who is dead. Forever. Michael’s sentence can never be shortened, and neither can his family’s. There is no compensation for a life that makes any sense. Not years or a lifetime or even another death.

My idea is this: place Richard in the center of the River Garden each day where the rest of us, one by one, can come to meet him. Each will share his loss. Some may cry, some may scream, some may sit in the silence of unspeakable pain.

Richard’s “sentence” will be to receive–as long as people keep coming.

When he is not scheduled at the River Garden, Richard will report to the family from whom he has stolen a loved one. He will stack the wood, and clean the car and fix the fences like Michael would have done. Afterwards, he will make rounds at the homes of fellow staff members-to offset the time they lost to grief and outrage and despair. He’ll help with the laundry. He’ll take out the trash. He’ll do the dishes. He’ll clean up after the dog.

The next day, Richard will return to the River Garden for his scheduled appointments. Children will send pictures they drew after the murder. Mothers will share how they held their children through the nights afterward. Lovers will tell of sweetness lost. Colleagues will share the heartbreak of loosing both Michael and Richard.

Richard will continue to show up each day until no one comes. And then he will sit with his own pain. He will teach others how to listen. How to be conscious. How to take responsibility for anger or resentment or even depression.

He will bless our community in humble service until we have healed.

Kelly Salasin, April 19, 2011

Previous posts: BFC Tragedy.

The Moon Appears…

The Moon Appears…

by Kelly (of rituals) ♥ 2 Comments
Earth Story Calendar

Tonight’s Snow Moon is so spectacular that even after an egregiously long day at work, I must share an excerpt from the equally spectacular 2012 Earth Story Calendar by local creative, Peter Adair.

The February page of his calendar opens with these show stopping words:

Earth Adopts a Child: The Moon Appears

I’ve never met Peter, but I’m studying to be a yoga teacher with a friend of his, who gifted us this calendar.

I’m a gift lover so this was a nice surprise, but it wasn’t until February that the magic of it began to unfold.

While the art of January’s Supernova Event was stunning, it’s February’s Moon that drew me in. Like a ballad, the accompanying text sweeps me up into its story again and again.

According to Peter, it’s inspired by the work of a mathematical cosmologist (Geez, where do they go to school?) who is described as having a heart of a poet.

No kidding:

Soon after Earth’s formation, during a time when asteroids rain upon the fledgling solar system, a sizeable intruder strikes our globe in a sideswipe  collision. From this shuddering meeting, a portion of Earth’s body spews into space. The interloper, its momentum reduced through the encounter, succumbs to Earth’s gravitational embrace and is received into orbit. There, it coalesces with the scattered material of Earth and becomes our Moon.

My gosh! Is it me or does that take your breath away?
But don’t stop there, it continues…

Earth’s daughter gradually slows our planet’s spin to its accustomed twenty-four hour rotation, establishes the axial tilt making possible the four seasons, and produces the caressing tides along shorelines that will become the fecund wombs of evolving life.

Who needs March when February makes you swoon;
and No, I haven’t looked ahead.
That’s taboo!
But how fortunate are we to live in such a place–
with such a daughter shining above us.

It wasn’t until I moved to Vermont that I began to truly notice the moon. Others taught me how. Women mostly. And now Peter, and his “ode to creation” in the Earth Story Calendar.  I kind of feel bad for telling you about it because it looks like they’re sold out.

There’s always next year, and in the meantime, take a drink of that gorgeous daughter in the sky.

Kelly Salasin, Snow Moon, 2012

More from the Earth Story Calendar:

The scientific account of Earth’s formation and development is a story of vibrant creativity and  stunning transformation. The journey begins within the fiery core of a star, and concludes  (for now) with the emergence of a species able  to comprehend its origin. We have learned that the unfolding of the human is interwoven with the unfolding of the planet. This is the theme of Earth Story calendar.