Yearly Archives: 2013

sprung

I’m rid­ing on so much momen­tum it feels like I’ll nev­er come to a stop. This is a dras­tic change from only a short while ago, and I can attribute it most­ly to the chances I’ve had to apply the lessons I’ve learned. Being able to prove to myself that I still have things to dis­cov­er, that I’m still refin­ing myself as a per­son, has left me feel­ing con­fi­dent and hum­ble late­ly.

420 protest on Parliament Hill

April 20th is the one day I wish I owned a BeaverTails stand. Protesting does­n’t get any more peace­ful than this.

Making peace with myself used to be a strug­gle. Now that I’m actu­al­ly hap­py with who I am, I real­ize how low a bar that used to be. I’ve been through stretch­es like this before though and they’ve nev­er last­ed, so I’m still approach­ing it all with cau­tious opti­mism. At least now I’m wise enough to know that hap­pi­ness is some­thing that needs to be worked at con­sis­tent­ly, in the lit­tle ways, and I’m strong enough to keep it going.

Jon-Kabat Zinn has been help­ing me on this path too. I’ve been lis­ten­ing to a series of his mind­ful med­i­ta­tion exer­cis­es, and I car­ry a sense of calm through the day when­ev­er I hear his voice. Every now and then he offers gen­tle advice on doing this kind of work, like how impor­tant it is to give your­self per­mis­sion to feel what­ev­er it is you’re feel­ing, and I’ve been dis­cov­er­ing that so much of it has rel­e­vance in oth­er parts of my life.

the distances we travel, and yet how far we've still to sail

It’s all a bit of a blur now, espe­cial­ly since we agree it feels like it’s been a year since my respon­si­bil­i­ties as a son and a cousin and a friend in Toronto. I do remem­ber try­ing to bal­ance the caf­feine — so I could be clear-head­ed and enjoy­ing myself — with the insom­nia that comes from hav­ing so much ener­gy every night. Also, these acts of guer­ril­la hap­pi­ness where mes­sages of hope were expressed through posters and spray paint. It would appear that van­dal­ism cross­es over into art only in cities with a sky­line worth men­tion­ing.

We end­ed up at the Ontario Science Centre twice, once as nerds and again as wed­ding guests, which worked out cause the only exhib­it we did­n’t get a chance to see one day end­ed up being the only exhib­it open to us dur­ing the recep­tion. The high­light is always the plan­e­tar­i­um though, in all it’s bean-bag, time-trav­el­ing glo­ry, the expe­ri­ence itself worth the price of admis­sion. With the excep­tion of a poor fac­sim­i­le of drag­on’s beard can­dy, every­thing worked out.

Continue read­ing “the dis­tances we trav­el, and yet how far we’ve still to sail”…

libre

It’s good to have some­thing to write about again. To have friends who are com­fort­ing and kind in my most sen­si­tive moments, and just as impor­tant­ly, things to con­fide in them. Good hair days. Reasons to wear some­thing nice. Dreams with­out desire. Feelings with­out fear.

Hotel Nacional de Cuba tiles

I nev­er real­ized how much I need­ed a get away until I came home and got more done in a week than in the month before I left. Without a gui­tar or a work­load or an inter­net con­nec­tion or a rou­tine or any of my decks, detach­ing from life as I knew it was a sim­ple mat­ter. Maybe that’s why it felt like I was gone for so long, even though time passed so quick­ly. The only real con­sid­er­a­tion I ever had was how I’d like to spend each par­tic­u­lar moment, and pre­sent­ed with that kind of free­dom, I learned to tru­ly let go of every­thing else.

This is a picture I didn't take

Of you, arms up and chest out, body crash­ing against the surf. Top pulled back into place with each wave, bot­toms adjust­ed as need­ed. A splash of rain on a flower soon to bur­geon.

In that instance I became aware of what was hap­pen­ing in myself. I could look at it clear­ly, and saw it as it was because it was already there, part of my expe­ri­ence in that moment, for bet­ter or for worse. I allowed myself to be exact­ly as I was with­out fear or shame. Detached yet present. Mindful to how I’ve longed to feel this for some­one again, and how I’ve nev­er ful­ly sur­ren­dered myself to it until now. A rea­son for the lyrics in the awk­ward smiles, the molto crescen­do in every inci­den­tal touch.

This is a pic­ture I did­n’t take of you, a mem­o­ry from which I can’t seem to look away. A moment I car­ry with me to remind myself that I can love again.