poetry thursday

i didn't follow the prompt for poetry thursday, because i've had neruda on the brain. i lent my collection of neruda poetry to my cuban friend one year and forgot to get it back from him when i moved. neruda's voice is one of the ones that flutters around in my head a lot. his rhythms ground me.

this is one of my favourites. when banane moved to ecuador for 8 months, i kept a journal for her for every day she was gone, and i sent this poem to her right before she came back. i found it torn out of its original letter and taped to her current journal - it's just one of those poems that changes lives.

Keeping Quiet
by Pablo Neruda. (trans. Alastair Reid.)
And now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth
let's not speak in any language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victory with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about,
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.

Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I'll count up to twelve,
and you keep quiet and I will go.

tendril

i have been voraciously attracted to green things for the past couple years; i'm not sure when it started. mossy tree trunks, wet grass, maple leaves, radishes, cucumbers, acrylic paint. i stare at whatever it is, mesmerized, and feel calmed, energized, healed, nurtured, and held up to the light, all by one striking note of colour.

green heals me. it reminds me of the earth; of regeneration; of stopping still; of being.

i'm feeling off-balance today, for the simple reason that i haven't been taking care of myself for a few days. not taking care of myself means: not having bought healthy food a few days ago when i should have; not meditating; not doing yoga yesterday; not sleeping well. not taking
care of myself. i mean this more as a gentle reminder that the steps i have taken worked in stabilizing me, and i should continue to do them.

i feel like a need a hug, is all. lately, i've felt strong enough to wrap my arms around myself and hang on. right now, not so much.

5:42/8:05

Don't consider yourself a failure just because you might be stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. You may not be able to move freely enough to create the changes you desire. You are positioned better than you realize, but in order to make the most of it, you must open your mind wider than ever before. Then, hang on tight, for something big is about to happen. ~my horoscope for today

guys, it's 5 am. i got up about 40 minutes ago, after having to crash once i got home from my workshop. i'm drinking a HUUUUUGE cup of black coffee and trying to ignore the fact that my body's not fitting right - you know when your skin itchs and your head hurts and all you can do is look at your amazing wonderful bed that's not even 10 feet away from you?

i'm a ritualist in the sense that i like things a "certain way" before i start writing. for instance, my internet wouldn't boot up just now - so i had to call the company to check my connection, because i MUST have internet access when i'm on the computer. it's harder for me to write in the winter because i usually like to leave my feet bare, which can be cold in november. normally, i must have a clean desk (and by clean, i apparently mean covered in non-related school books - since when does anybody have time to read for PLEASURE? bwa ha ha ha; a hair dryer; hand lotion; cds; necklaces; incense; and my figurines).

i'm writing a story that i think is going to be waaaaaaaay bigger than it should be, and i'm ALREADY having editing anxiety, and it isn't even written yet. i think i have an exam today - but i'm not sure. i think i'll just show up to class and check. i'm hoping it wasn't on monday.

and in case you were wondering, this is all i think about right now: school (i have just today to get through, then an exam tomorrow, then a paper on monday); all the relationships i am neglecting to do school; work; my non-existant yoga practice; and oh - have i showered yet? (i just take one whenever i remember to, which has been every day so far. yippie!)

i wonder...what is my life going to BE like in a week when i don't have to do this anymore?
i can already answer that! it's going to be REPAINTING MY APARTMENT!
********************************************************************
postus scriptumus, 8:05 pm.

(picture bee, clinging to her computer desk) folks, i am getting OLD. appreciably. i can remember a time when i pulled all-nighters and the like 6 times in a row (okay...so i'm exaggerating) and laughed at sleep. SLEEP, I LAUGHED AT YOU. and now i am 28, and i am sad.
you know why? because i was RIGHT. my shakespeare exam WAS at 1 pm. today, which meant that i was sitting at my desk at 1 pm. (my friend actually laughed when i showed up, i haven't been in so long). and seriously? i hope i passed. i'm not joking. there was identify-passages, which sucked, because - have i read the plays? even if i had - and i swear, i read most of them - could i tell you who had actually spoke (spake?) them, or what the speeches meant to the play? then on to the second part - the essay questions - and i haven't been to the class in a few weeks (totally missed the review) so i didn't know exactly what plays we were being tested on...and, oh god. hear that whistling noise far off? that is the bee-bomb about to go off.
KAPOW!
then i went directly to the computer lab to finish WRITING and photocopying the story, and promptly forgot my computer disk there. so i was late to class, and it just so happens and i shit you not, we were CRITIQUING A STORY ABOUT LESBIAN PROSTITUTES WITH FABRIC NAMES (IE: GIN CUT COTTON) HAVING SEX WITH POTATOES AND BEING FED TO ALLIGATORS which was, actually, as wince-inducing as it sounds (and i hate to admit that. i really really do - i want to give props where props are due. but jesus god).

then my professor drove me home. the professor who i've almost decided to ask to adopt me. i think he might say yes. and it was lovely and there was nothing odd about that but i did have this twinge where, i wondered, "is this cool?" not that i think he would EVER do anything untoward...but still. i get jumpy.

then i spent an absurd. ABSURD. amount of money to nourish myself for the coming week. and now i'm too tired to make any of said nourishment and, oooooh looky, i've got 300 pages of psych to read. BY TOMORROW. AT 10 AM.

bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.


this tree makes me want to climb up it and go to sleep for 100 years, leaving a "do not disturb" sign for that pesky prince charming.

note to myself

when school quiets down, i need to touch base with the following people:

-vesper
-ruby
-jessie
-susannah

-mad
-deb r

-darlene

-michelle

-claire


**this is just to let you know that i am fully aware that i owe you all emails, and that i love you to death and can't wait to touch base - except that i am swamped.**

meme...because i'm sleepy and sort of stressed out

thank god, i was tagged by jessie. because quite honestly, i wanted to write something, but i have SO MUCH to do before...oooh, tomorrow? and it keeps going until thursday morning. i have a short story due tomorrow, plus a midterm in shakespeare that i need to read some plays for (and king lear? i have to slog through. that bitch is DENSE.) then i have a final exam in psych on thursday morning...which i need to read 6 chapters for. SIGH. basically, i'm not getting out of my pajamas until the last minute possible.

if you would like to do this, consider yourself tagged.

One word. No explanation.
1. Yourself: silly
2. Your partner: incredible
3. Your hair: bedhead
4. Your mother: loving
5. Your father: delusional
6. Your favorite item: mala
7. Your dream last night: pedophile
8. Your favorite drink: coffee
9. Your dream car: anything
10. The room you are in: office
11. Your ex: punk
12. Your fear: waste
13. What you want to be in 10 years: mother
14. Who you hung out with last night: bean
15. What you're not: conservative
16. Muffins: yes
17: One of your wish list items: blanket
18: Time: elastic
19. The last thing you did: blogsurf
20. What you are wearing: bathrobe
21. Your favorite weather: sunny
22. Your favorite book: all
23. The last thing you ate: yam
24. Your life: wonderful
25. Your mood: hungry
26. Your best friend: stressed
27. What you're thinking about right now: story
28. Your car: anything
29. What you are doing at the moment: smiling
30. Your summer: blur
31. Your relationship status: wonderful
32. What is on your TV: cloth
33. What is the weather like: metallic
34. When was the last time you laughed: earlier

you wouldn't believe me if i told you; i'll try anyway.

i'm sitting here, in my bathrobe, with my tiny cup of coffee by my right hand, my desk covered with books and zines and driftwood and its statues of ganesh and buddha and the goddess and my pills and my incense holder that's actually a piece of termite-eaten driftwood that i picked up off the beach in tofino this summer...the only sound i can hear is the hum of my old computer. my eyes keep getting drawn to the huge copy of living artfully that i want to roll around in.

basically, it's like i've never left, but oh-so-much-has happened in the four days that i have been away. i basically haven't stopped moving or drinking wine or hiking or talking or hugging or writing or cooking or singing since. now comes the part where i try and tell you all the story of my weekend.

it starts when i turned off the computer from blogging my last entry. i knew i was going to be late to the bus station, and would probably miss my connection through to peterborough once i got to ottawa. i packed up my homework and stuffed a sweater and some underwear in a shoulder bag and went to the metro. i got to the bus station and climbed in a huge greyhound and it took me to ottawa.

where i realized that the earliest i was going to leave for peterborough was at 12:30 am, so i decided to spend the night at my friend c's house.

i didn't call or anything beforehand, i wanted it to be a complete surprise. so i walked the half-an-hour from the bus station to her house, all through little italy and down one of my favourite streets in ottawa - and finally stood on her doorstep and rang the bell.

she opened the door, squealing with delight (which is always nice) and i noticed that she was wearing a knapsack on her back.

"where are you going?" i asked her, and she said, "to the pool. i was going to take a hot-tub. do you want to go?"

and i said, "sure."

so she lent me one of her bathing suits and got me an extra towel and we walked the block up to the pool and swam some laps, then sat in the hot tub for a while and then steamed the stress out of our bodies in the steam room, chatchatchatting all the way.

she was on her way to my other best friends' house to babysit her son while they all went out to celebrate my friend angell's birthday. so i went along with her, and the door opened and my friend k., who had surgery earlier this month, started crying and said, "i've been calling you and calling you. what took you so long?"

(calling in the sense where she's been asking the universe to send me to her.) so that was nice, too. i hugged her back and told her i got there as soon as i could. c left with the baby, and k and i were sitting out on the picnic table in front of her house and she was smoking a cigarette and telling me the (horrific) details of her surgery when a car pulled up.

and who should get out of it but our friend charlie, who is apparently not living in thailand forever and ever but is back on this continent for a few weeks.

so amid the screams and welcome-home hugs and looking at all our physical differences (my hair cut, his lost weight, new tattoo and shaved head) it was a very heady welcome home indeed.

george and i drove to pick up angell from her work and she screamed when she saw me, too. (apparently, i have to go back home more than once every 4 months.) and we brought her back to t's house and there was much wine and beer drinking, and a birthday cake in the shape of a pirate - and then we called two cabs and went to a west-end bar where there was karaoke...

where there was MORE beer-drinking and bellowing of the "rainbow connection" and i ran into my best friend from high school (of all the bars in all the world i had to walk into hers) who had apparently written into a gameshow once, trying to find me.

we went home and i put myself to bed shortly thereafter. and woke up the next morning already having missed the first two buses to peterborough, and with a pounding headache that no amount of coffee would make better. george and i took his dog moe for a looooong walk in the beautiful november sunshine the half-an-hour back to the bus station and i tied my greasy hair up in my goddess scarf and got back on the bus for another 3 1/2 hours.

*poof* out of ottawa.

the ride to peterborough was uneventful, except that i realized that i had misplaced the directions to banane's new house somewhere in my foggy-headedness of that morning. so i read homework and listened to the only cd i had thought to bring with me, over and over until i got there. of course when i got there it was getting dark. and so thank god i remembered the first few directions on how to get there (up to go across the pedestrian foot bridge) and was hoping that someone would find me when....

banane did. i crossed the foot bridge which brought me to this dog park, and there was banane, magically standing on the other side of it at a completely random moment, to take me home. with her wonderful puppy. so we walked home and i got to see her brand new house (her first-ever OWNED one) which is the cutest wee bungalow painted in earth tones and has a lot of reggae-influenced art and milk-crate furniture and a root cellar full of pickles and preserves...and had my bf in it. my bf from last week who is now living with and good friends with my sister. which is fabulous (and no doubt confusing to people who know them only by initials and nicknames).

they were having a meeting for their "hunger gala" (a night staged to bring attention to peterborough's poverty and food crisis...if you'll be in the area, it's on tuesday at market hall) so i helped a bit and wrote a piece for their zine and curled up and did some more homework and then drank some wine...i think we went to bed somewhat early, but i can't be too sure.

the next day we woke up slowly again and had some coffee and then banane and i went to the farmer's market, too late to buy anything. and then we drove up to her farm property where she showed me what grew where during the summer months and we went on this long hike with her puppy to the watering hole where she and her boy and her dog swam all summer, and the hike took us through this forest that was incredibly, incredibly magical.

it was all grown over with coniferous trees and there were needles on the ground and these huge stone caves overgrown with moss - porcupines live in the caves and we saw some dead ones, and i picked some of the porcupine quills to make a necklace for someone (the quills are good for asthma, apparently) and then we went home to get ready for her birthday dinner.

she and her boy went into their backyard to build a bonfire pit and i opened the crate of dumpster-dived white wine she found to make a cauldron full of sangria (i am always called on to make the sangria at any party i go to. add wine - cheap juice - fruit. mix.) and then bf roasted some squash and made chocolate cake and rice, and there was fresh roasted venison, and then people started arriving and we drank sangria and beer and ate cake and sat at a bonfire and...i went to bed around 2 am, after realizing that king lear was very hard to read after a party like that.

i woke up yesterday morning by 11:30 and by 12:30 banane's boy and i were at a diner, eating sausage and eggs and drinking mucho coffee and water and then we got back in the car and he drove us to his parents' house where we made an impromptu showing at his family's birthday dinner - i drank more wine and more beer and ate lasagne and more cake and then boy drove me to the bus station, where i bought a student priced ticket for montreal and boarded the bus.

*poof out of peterborough and ottawa*

i got home at 9:30, called met so that he could use his keys to let me in, we talked for 3 minutes (or so) and i walked into my bedroom and passed OUT.

i woke up today a full 12 hours after i went to sleep. i got up, took a shower, and made coffee. i have a lot of work to do.

i realized a few things this weekend, though. i was thinking, once i made it to peterborough and realized that banane didn't have a computer and the town hasn't quite made it to the concept of "internet cafes", that of course my resolution to blog every day in november, much less my participation in nanoblopomo, was down the crapper.

i was a bit upset, and then i realized that there was nothing i could have done to change the situation. what was i supposed to have done - missed my sister's birthday in order to stick close to the internet? no.

and being away from it showed me how healing it is to take breaks every once in a while. breaks even from healing resolutions to journal every day. to be flexible with yourself even when you think you're engaging with yourself flexibly. to allow healing to come through in different forms - like the half-an-hour wordless cuddle that banane and i shared on her couch. to let go of attachment to things - to events and outcomes and notions of oneself - and to just, plainly and finally,

BEE.

thanksgiving

i am just incredibly grateful to the world today.

thank you, everybody who commented and read yesterday's post, for your words. i am literally astounded at how wonderful your support was and i really appreciated it. i wish i could hug you all individually and tell you exactly what was so special about each individual comment - but that will have to wait for email. i appreciate it so much. (HUG)

i finished my psych assignment. (!!!!) which means that i'm so. very. close. to the end of the semester, which means a month off for bee, and some SERIOUS re-organization and 'winter-cleaning', which i'm looking forward to in a strange way. (i have told everyone i'm addicted to the smell of cleaner, right? and currently i'm living with fruit flies. which i hate.)

one of the last things i have to do is WRITE A STORY. which will be AWESOME. i'm looking forward to it.

i'm grateful that my partner is writing the play that he's writing. it sounds fantastic, and i'm super-proud of him for going in a direction he has never gone before, touching on certain subjects and issues that are close to him. i love watching people's creativity flare, and their trust in their own genius.

i'm grateful for the jaw-droppingly wonderful, goddess-gifted package i got in the mail today from one of the most special people i've ever met. thank you, jessica michelle. i love you.

i'm so thankful for my sister, who turns freaking 25 years old today. happy birthday, sweetpea! i LOOOOOOOOOVE you. i'm coming! i swear! i'm just late as usual! (she is currently carving her own stag for her dinner right now and never uses the internet anyway, so i'm not sure why i'm making excuses.)

the beautiful day. it's all blue skies and warm sun and melty montreal goodness. i was just tripping around the light fantastic and thinking to myself how MUCH i love this city, today. and i'm so lucky to truly be living my dreams here.

going to the country...going to eat a lot of peaches. so, i'm heading to peterborough today. or, at least, i hope i am. i gots to get moving if i want to go. and i still have to pack. erg. i didn't have much time to visit (if any. did i visit today? crap on a stick, i don't think so. i'm SORRRRRYYYY!!!) because it's the banane's birthday, and you know, we stick together. and i'm looking forward to the weekend 'off', as it were, in the country, drinking my sister's hippie brews and playing with her dog. and seeing her very-own-first house for the first time. and...probably drinking red wine. and getting lost in some cornfields. whee.

i hope you have a wonderful thanksgiving.

and p.s. check out my new favourite picture in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD. isn't she just the cutest thing in the entire world? i laughed MY ASS OFF when i saw that.

learning how to be grateful for humiliation

last night i went to my yoga class, knowing that i was stiff and in a little pain. i can expect that when it's cold like this and i haven't done any deep stretching in a week. normally i love my tuesday classes because jodie's my teacher - she's so sweet and gentle that i liked and got along with her right away.

she had the stomach flu yesterday so a different teacher subbed for her - a man. i've taken a lot of studio yoga classes in my day and i'm not sure what it is (i mean no disrespect) but i've never liked or felt comfortable around any male instructors.

...but that has a lot to do with my herstory. i've found as well, through my informal polling, that male instructors like to touch and manipulate their students' bodies more - which is, in general, a no-no in my book.

so i took a deep breath once i figured this all out and told myself to stay open to the experience - that maybe i was wrong, and that there was a reason why i was supposed to take that class. i changed and unrolled my mat and got ready.

right away my "worries" were confirmed. in yoga i love doing flexibility postures (where the emphasis is placed on warming up and opening up the joints) because my joints stiffen so quickly and close in on themselves. i hate doing balance postures, because - well, i'm out of balance. one half of my body is literally shorter and lighter than the other half which means i can barely stand on one foot, much less tuck the leg i'm not using into the fold of my hip.

yesterday was a balance-postures class. i felt my heart sink right away as soon as i figured that out, because not only does my heart rate speed up (in the anxious, oh no i can't do this he's going to constantly correct and draw attention to me way), but it means i simply can't physically do a lot of the postures. so i'm left cooling my heels when all my body wanted and needed was a good 90 minute stretching out.

of course the teacher, never having read my file (which says under 'health concerns': born with cerebral palsy - i know because i wrote it down) constantly did what i was afraid he was going to do. in the leg lunges, which were fairly simple, the students were supposed to keep their knee straight and above their ankle.

(if you tried that right now, it's fairly simple. drop to the floor, extend one leg behind you, and keep your forward leg bent in a 90 degree angle. no matter how low you can sink into the posture, keeping the knee in front of the ankle is fairly easy - except for me. my left knee has never been able to do that properly - because of the spasticity of my tendons, my knee angles in, towards my other leg, and it hurts and is extremely uncomfortable when i try to reposition it. i'm working on opening up that area, but it takes time.)

so of course the teacher said to me, "no. the knee over the ankle. the knee over the ankle. see? like this." and i'm trying to maintain the posture and trying not to burst into tears (because this is a shy person's nightmare) and trying not to yell at him, "you think i don't know what you're talking about? i just can't do it, you jerk!"

this continued, with him commenting on the position of my arm in the warrior pose (ironic, no?) and then, at the end of the class when we're all rolling up our mats, he came up to me and said, in a loud voice,

"so, what happened to you? were you in an accident or something? is it your leg or your arm? i was trying to figure that out all class." and i said, quietly,

"no, i was born with cerebral palsy."

and he sort of stopped and looked and me and said, "oh? i don't know much about that. so...the yoga's helping?"

i told him, yes, it was, and that's why i did so much of it.

on the way to class afterwards i had to walk quickly so that i didn't start crying.

i know, for me, that my 'disability' is where a lot of my insecurity comes from. i guess i thought i was dealing with it better. i wish it didn't; i don't think that any disability should affect people's 'soul cores'.

for me, a lot of my confusion and insecurity comes from the fact that i can 'almost pass' for an able-bodied person. that's what my parents wanted me to do - that's why neither of them told me that what i had was actually c.p. - they didn't want me to grow up under a label which would help me determine my own limitations.

i remember lying on my mother's bed for so much of my childhood as she helped me do my physiotherapy exercises, watching the two of us in her mirrored closet.

"your left side is just weaker than your right side. if somebody asks you about it and you don't feel comfortable, just tell them you got in a football accident."

i remember going to kiddie kobbler to buy shoes for my first day in grade school and my face burning with embarrassment as my mother told the salesclerk, "see...one foot is about a size larger than the other. can you mismatch two pairs?"

i remember stroking the fingers of my left hand, imagining i could feel new nerves growing, telling myself that if i just kept it up, i wouldn't be this way anymore.

i remember sitting on the window sills of the library, because nobody picked me for recess dodgeball, and i'd close my eyes and in my head i would be the most graceful ballet dancer in the world. i would be light and beautiful and strong.

throughout my life i've had people tell me that i wouldn't be able to do things. like climbing trees (well, maybe they were right about that), or playing sports well enough to make a school team (so i didn't try), or building campfires ("watch out! you'll burn yourself! let me do it!"). and even though now i know that there's absolutely nothing wrong with me, and that it doesn't have to define me in any way that i don't want it to, and that i can do anything i set my mind to, there is a lot of rewiring that i need to do. a lot of sensitive spots that i'm trying to teach myself to let go of.

like it or not, people are often going to remark on my body, and i want to stop the internal cringe that happens when they do. the internal cringe happens because of a sense of shame that i have, i know that. i want to be gentle with myself and let it go. i want to understand myself better.

i want to be grateful to the opportunities and gifts that this life has given me, even the ones that come in lopsided and sometimes painful packages. and i am, most of the time.

i just wish that my first reaction towards such an integral part of myself - what makes me me, wasn't shame.

happy

happy happy, baby.

in such a short time you've completely changed my life. thank you for supporting me in becoming a truer version of myself, for being my best friend, and for loving me so well.

there are so many things i admire about you as a person - your steadfastness, creativity, kindness, your loyalty. i love your sense of honour. your sense of humour, too.

i love how we are, so completely, two sides of the sane coin - sharing so many things, but complementing on so many others.

i love that i get to share my life with you.

rewire

the negatives

it's late and i'm feeling shivery and having one of those petulant moments where no, i don't want to make myself anything for dinner i just want to eat those three figs that i have left in my knapsack and drink yerba mate which probably means that i'm low on protein. and sleep. i used to be such an avid partier that it somewhat embarrasses me that i can't drink somewhat heavily more than one night in a row and not feel the effects.

• i have been HIGHLY premenstrual this month (so bad, in fact, that my boyfriend looked at me on thursday which was four days ago and asked me if i was more bloated than usual) and one of the posts that i had in mind for today was how i have been aware of that, so have been flipping my naturally sensitive mind frame for this time of the month and gotten super positive instead. all hail the moon cycle, etc., etc. but, as is usual for the end of the term (it finally hit) my body is starting to refuse to do any work.
• after the few days off that i gave it, ("are you crazy?" my school friends asked me), i'm sitting in front of my computer knowing that i have a gajillion things to do for tomorrow (2 poetry assignments, a psych essay, editing 3 submissions) and yet - i want to read blogs and just generally fart around for the next few hours, until i get tired and fall asleep.
• the not-wanting-to-do-any-work is making me a bit grumpy.
• at this point, everyone i talk to is describing feelings of burn-out. i'm one of the luckier ones in that my breakdown has taught me to value my health above getting that essay in on time, but for the most part, everybody is intensely stressed, frustrated, and exhausted.
• i spent about an hour talking to my boyfriend yesterday as he was valiantly trying to apply the finishing touches to 4 plays. he was tired and overwrought and nothing i said seemed to help the situation. it bothers me when i think i should know how to do something, and yet i can't. for the life of me.
• my father wrote one of his airy, insensitive asshole emails to his 'family' today which said: Just in case you write and don't get a reply for a while, I will be in Peru from today to 11 December, with uncertain access to the internet.
  Sigh ... I can hardly wait to get back to the comfort of my home. But, if someone doesn't visit Peru, who will support the economy? this from a man who has always said that if he had his life to live over again he would never have had kids; who is living the life of whoever in costa rica and taking jaunty trips to other continents just because while his daughters are ekeing out existences on the poverty line. it makes me so mad i shake a little every time i think about it.
• i've also scheduled a trip out of town this weekend to see banane for her birthday. i love her, and i love where she lives, but at this point i'm asking myself, are you absolutely nuts? you have a story due next week, for god's sake. which is one more thing that i'm not thinking i want to write, but that i need to get through in order to get to my vacation.
• my body also hurt today for the first time in a long time. my hip was achy and my back's starting to tense up. but that just means i need to go to yoga again.

then i found this woman's blog tonight and her post sort of stopped me in my tracks. so i need, once again, to rewire my thinking a bit. because i truly think that she is right, but that just means it's probably going to be the most difficult thing to actually do.

the positives

i bought some lovely photos from a photo exhibit in the main building of my university. i like supporting student art and the pictures are lovely. one's of a forest, and one is of a girl in a negligee using a blowdryer in a bathroom. they both spoke to me in different ways.

i had my prose workshop tonight, which always puts me in a good mood. i love my teacher.

after this assignment that's due tomorrow, i don't have anything more for another week.

• i got a package waiting for me at a post office i've never been to, so i have to go on an adventure to pick it up.
  
• i'm going to make myself a kick-ass, mini "date" dinner. and listen to my favourite talk-radio station, and maybe dance around my kitchen a bit because no-one can see me.

a weekend of light

yesterday i had this really interesting "encounter" with this woman i'd never met before. she came into the store to make a delivery and as i took the box from her our eyes locked.

all of a sudden she was telling me about how she got sepsis in october and almost died, then how she started meditating. i told her about how i'd had health issues of my own in the past and had recently begun to meditate again, myself.

then she started telling me about this 'break-through' she'd had during one of her sessions where she'd realized how to break down the ego - her solution was to beam out love energy - egoless, healing, all-encompassing love.

i'd been thinking much the same thing lately, and so excitedly contributed to the discussion whenever i could. we touched a lot on meditation, how organic food is one of our ways to self-heal, talismans, auras - the whole shebang.

our conversation continued after she left. she called me to read me this piece she'd written about the breakthrough, and then sent the piece to me by email. then she said something that stopped me in my tracks.

"you know, i don't normally say any of this to people i just meet. did you notice that i took a step back and scanned you once you said that you had health issues, as well?"

i was serving another customer and sort of distracted at this point so i replied,

"no, not really."

"well, i assessed whether you had - and what i saw was that you had significant health problems, but that you were on a path of joy. there are only certain people who are open to what i have to say."

these are things that she said she tried to do with her meditation: become "one with the light", and to project healing to the entire world. this is a woman who meditates for four hours a day - two in the morning and two before she goes to sleep.

i thought that was a beautiful thing, because she can't be the only one. she cannot be the only person who is striving with such focus to become part of positive energy, and she can't be the only person who projects egoless love onto all humanity.

something that my body hasn't quite accepted yet is that this continues to happen on 'bad days' as well. it can be hard for me to feel anything good on those days - but yet, someone is still out there, going to a place of peace and praying for me within it.

last night, i got home from work and meditated for a while, and just as i was blowing out the candle, my door buzzed and best friend had arrived. we flopped on the couch and i said, "you know, if you hadn't showed up just now i would have made myself a drink and turned on the family guy." she replied, "oh, could we?" so we snacked a bit and drank some nice drinks and watched cartoons, until mom and dad showed up. then we decided to get up and make food - quinoa with mushrooms, roasted squash - and we ate, then we went out to get popcorn and a few movies. we drank a lot - when mom and dad showed up they brought beer and wine with them - and i think it was around 10 when i wandered into my bedroom, saw my bed, and literally went, "ooh, that looks good!" and promptly passed out in my clothes with all the lights on.

bf came in a while later to see what had happened to me, saw me curled up, and turned off the lights to curl up beside me - so it was really the most chill, early night ever. and i got to wake up to being spooned by a woman who knows me very well and loves me better.

this morning was beautiful - because it revived a tradition that i didn't realize i missed so much: bf, mom, dad, and i all having 'morning coffee' together as the sun was rising. when we lived in the commune we would always meet up to watch the dawson's creek reruns on tbs - and there would be a few hours of quiet companionship and caffeination. i hugged my friends goodbye and then i headed to work, and when i headed to work - i had this feeling.

it took me a while to figure out what it was, exactly. i knew the 'blissful' part right away, but there was something else.

i love very easily - and i'm finally okay with that. for a long time i was told that 'love' was something special and should only be reserved for a few people, to keep its specialness - and i tried to rein in my heart, even though it hurt and trying to stop loving a lot of people went contrary to my nature.

lately, as i've been out of balance, i'd 'watched' my love more - keeping track of it, a little - "okay, i've shown this person this much of me - now i should wait to see what's going to happen before i reveal more." and quite frankly, i didn't like doing that, because it felt weird to me, too - i always understood it as a sign that i was imbalanced.

but on the way to work this morning - i felt love just surging out of me, to everyone i thought of - and it was completely unfettered. there were no more checks and balances, there wasn't a drought, there was enough to give to the whole world.

i hope that, even if you didn't feel it today, that you will let yourself know that i was sending you some.

mini commune reunion

around 3 years ago, i found myself living in a house in the east end of ottawa with 6 other people. one was the hobbit, my ex-partner, one was my best friend rachelle, and two others were my friends chris and brenda, a couple in their own right whose nicknames in the household were, affectionately, "mom and dad".

well, rachelle came to town yesterday. we drank A LOT of wine and then went to a show in the plateau to meet up with some friends. the show was incredible - we missed the first part but got to see rae spoon (pictured above) who had one of those voices...that makes you believe in god again. you know? where he opened his mouth and the whole bar fell silent to listen.

mom and dad, celebrating their six-year anniversary, are coming to town today. and tonight we're making sushi and drinking (more) wine and generally getting silly in my apartment.

i have a "rag tag" family, one that looks funny from the outside, but the bonds of love on the inside are so rare.

i want to write so much more, but once again, i'm going to be late for work if i don't get my ass in gear. i love you all! if you don't see me today it's because of a fault in time-management but i'm thinking about you and sending you SNUGGLES.

waking myself up, meme style

sitting at my desk, thinking why, god, is it pitch black and only 5:30? why? and desperately needing a cup of coffee before i can even think about writing that story that i should be writing - and i saw that not only vesper, but now susannah has done versions of the coolest meme around. so i had to. super fun. and deb, this one's for you. ;)
i borrowed this from susannah.

[RED ]

1. Closest red thing to you? my winter boots, which i am now wearing when it rains.
2. Has anyone ever cheated on you in a relationship? yes. he never admitted it, but i knew anyway. so did all of our friends.
3. Last thing to make you angry? when i forgot to take my anti-depressant two days running. it didn't really take much.
4. Are you a fan of romance? YES. i love being romanced.
5. Have you ever been in love? yes. most definitely.
6. Do you have a temper? incredibly so. it doesn't come out to play very often, but when it comes out, it's a scorcher.

[ GREEN ]

1. Closest green thing to you? a bottle of fructis sleek&shine anti-frizz.
2. Do you care about the environment? very very much so.
3. Are you jealous of anyone right now? i am jealous periodically. i have a tendency to it, which i hate, so i try to keep tabs on it.
4. Are you a lucky person? i used to think so, then i changed my mind, now i'm changing it again.
5. Do you always want what you can't have? yes, but it takes me a while to realize that.
6. Are you Irish? oh, probably. everything's in me somewhere.

[ PURPLE ]
1. Last purple thing you saw? my bedspread. i bought it for it's purplocity.
2. Like being treated to expensive things? no. i buy expensive things for myself, so i don't feel guilty about them. i like getting letters and sweet things that i know someone put at least a bit of thought into.
3. Do you like mysterious things? depends. usually mystery drives me nuts.
4. Favourite type of chocolate? dark.
5. Ever met any royalty? yes. i sang for the queen and prince charles once and then i sang for princess diana once.
6. Are you creative? yes.
7. Are you lonely? sometimes. i shouldn't be, but you know, i want what i can't have.

[ BLUE ]
1. Closest blue thing to you? a book about chakras.
2. Are you good at calming people down? i think so.
3. Do you like the ocean? yes. a LOT.
4. What was the last thing that made you cry? yesterday, when i thought about not having a family. it makes holidays kind of weird.
5. Are you a logical thinker? logic's overrated. :)
6. Can you sleep easily? usually.
7. Do you prefer the beach or the woods? i'll have to go with vesper on this one - there can be combinations of both, and that's what i'd pick.

[ YELLOW ]
1. Closest yellow thing to you? the buffalo drawing on a buffalo brand eraser.
2. The happiest time(s) of your life? i think it's coming up.
3. Favourite holiday? going to europe with banane.
4. Are you a coward? sometimes i don't speak up when i want to.
5. Do you burn or tan? i burn first. tan once the burn peels off.
6. Do you want children? yes. i also want to get married.
7. What makes you happy? everything can make me happy if i give it a chance to.

[ PINK ]
1. Closest pink thing to you? a sharpie highlighter.
2. Do you like sweet things? yes. dark chocolate-y sweet things.
3. Like play-fighting? yes, with a lover. i'm a biter.
4. Are you sensitive? waaay too much sometimes.
5. Do you like punk music? i don't own any, but it's okay when i'm in the mood.
6. What is your favourite flower? lilies and tulips.
7. Does someone have a crush on you? no - unless the boyfriend counts. but i don't think that's what we're talking about.

[ ORANGE ]
1. Closest orange thing to you? a silk scarf.
2. Do you like to burn things? a few things. like incense, and wishes, and candles.
3. Dress up for Halloween? i was going to this year, but halloween got rained out.
4. Are you usually a warm-hearted person? i'd like to think so.
5. Do you prefer the single life or the security of a relationship? i'd like the security of a relationship while still maintaining my own life.
6. What would your super power be? the ability to heal people.

[ WHITE ]
1. Closest white thing to you? a note that says "surprise" from one of my birthday presents.
2. Would you say you're innocent? no. i can still be naive, but i'm not innocent.
3. Always try to keep the peace? no, i can shit-disturb with the best of them.
4. How do you imagine your wedding? i try not to think about it, because then i get impatient.
5. Do you like to play in the snow? if i'm warmly dressed, yes.
6. Are you afraid of going to the doctors or dentist? i'm tired of both. every time i go to one, i leave with five extra appointments. no thank you!

[ BLACK ]
1. Closest black thing to you? a book called "quiet rumours". it's a collection of anarcho-feminist essays.
2. Ever enjoy hurting people? yes. but i like being hurt in return. :)
3. Are you sophisticated or silly? i'd say i'm waaaaaay more silly than sophisticated.
4. Do you have a lot of secrets? a few.
5. What is your favourite colour(s)? pomegranate red, grass green, royal purple, sky blue.
6. Does the colour you wear affect your mood? my mood affects the colour, like susannah said.

thank you....zzzZZZZZzzzzzz

guess what i did all yesterday?

i'll give you four guesses.

a) did yoga

b) did homework

c) went for a run

d) slept 15 + hours

if you picked d), you'd be CORRECT! you win a million dollah!

thank you to everybody who answered my post about the links, i'm getting back to you, because as you can see - i was waylaid yesterday. i never fully woke up, i think. i dragged myself through cleaning my apartment, and then dragged my bed into the livingroom, because met wanted to watch cartoons in bed, which i thought was a fabulous idea.

he came over, i finished eating some hippie lunch, and i fell onto the bed beside him where he was reading a comic book and said, "nap?"

so we curled up together and snoozed for two hours or so. then we sloooowly woke up, managed to fit in an episode of cartoons before he went home to work on a play, at which point i thought i was going to write, too. i have a story that's about ready to come out.

you know, maybe catch up on some of those emails that i've been too busy to respond to.

but no. i no sooner sat at my desk than i could feel the magnets on my eyelids pulling them down. i looked at the clock and was like, "7:30??? come on, girl, where is your bad self?"

my bad self made it to 7:40. i slept almost a full 12 hours.

so that is where i have been - sleeping in my living room, and making bean have a heart attack because oh my god, things are different. are we moving again? and now, i have not very much time before i have to be at work, so i should go and get dressed. and...you know...make sure i smell okay.

we really need to work on this teleportation deal, people. seriously. that would be right up my alley.

what are YOUR orange shoes like?

well, i finished the essay at around 3:30 this morning, and i was so hopped up on caffeine that i probably didn't drift off until some time around 4. my alarm, of course, was set for 6:30, because i figured it would take me an hour to get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and head to the shuttle for 8.

i'm glad i had that foresight, as it took me an hour to do anything other than press the snooze button.

sometimes i can function of very little sleep, other times it feels like i have to remind myself to breathe. today was one of those second times. maybe it was because in the few hours that i napped, it had rained again and i woke up to a soft grey sky; maybe it was that i literally had just enough time to throw on the clothes that i had dropped at the foot of my bed, grab my computer disk and head out the door; but whatever it was i just couldn't shake myself awake.

i must have looked like the funniest sight: wild (and red-) eyed and wild-haired bee, stumbling towards the bus with her briefcase full of school books in her purple fall jacket and her orange shoes.

i bought my orange shoes to wear to a maceo parker concert back in july. they have bows on the top and thin rubber soles. i love them first of all because they're orange, second because they're slip-ons, and third because even though they're shoes, i can still feel the earth under my feet when i wear them.

i sucked at meditating the first couple times i tried doing it.

i don't know if it comes across in my writing style here, but i can be a pretty excitable person. people have described me as 'child-like', 'bouncy', and 'full of energy' my entire life, and i remember my mother once exasperatedly telling me to go to my room and try to just sit for a while.

i couldn't. there was this force that seemed to propel me off the ground, in the same way i couldn't handle silence, or being on my own.

but the idea appealed to me - meditation - the idea of sitting still, and allowing calm to enter and flood my being. i just wasn't ready for it yet.

when i was in my early 20's, i met a good friend who introduced me to buddhism. i had dabbled a bit already, but with his influence i started to seriously read the dhammapada, and books by thich nhat hanh. i was really struck by the idea that every action could be a meditation, if one stayed in the present moment and remained mindful. with that awareness, washing dishes could be a meditation, or reading a book, or soothing a child after a fall. anything.

i liked how that idea felt under my skin, and i started trying to remain more inside the moment. which was very hard for me to do.
i can be a squirmy bee, for sure. i plan lots, dream big dreams, and can be the 'what's next?' girl if i'm not careful.

this summer i travelled by myself across the country to b.c. for 6 weeks. i had a lot of friends and family out there, but in essence i was alone. this was meant to be a sort of self-test. the last time i had travelled alone anywhere was to california in 2003, and i crashed and burned on that particular venture, so i needed to know that i could take care of myself for an extended period of time.

this year, in fact, has been about me learning to take care of myself, by myself, with no safety net.

i didn't just go to b.c. to test myself, though, i went to heal in a lot of ways, too. most of my family i hadn't seen in at least 10 years, if not double that. both sides of my family, since my parents' divorce, had just gotten progressively more and more pissed off at each other. living that far away from the drama, it just looked to banane and i like some gigantic, immature game of telephone.

i spent the first 10 days of my trip in vancouver, with the aunt that i hadn't seen in 17 years. and while i was there, i found out a WHOLE lot of family skeletons that i was uncomfortable - to say the least - with. like ginormous, racist ones. i felt myself biting my tongue the entire time.

at the end of the week and a half, i escaped to victoria for 3 days, and for those 3 days i did approximately the following, in varying amounts:

• talked to met on the phone
• slept
• ate
• drank wine
• biked around
• lay on the beach

oh, and i also watched the quarter-finals of american idol. but i digress. on the second day, i found myself on gonzales beach, which is the beach in the picture.

to be honest, i love the ocean, and i love the beach by the ocean, but gonzales was a bit too crowded for me. so i started to walk. away. away from everybody and everything.

before i knew it, i had reached this stillness, both exterior and interior, that i had never felt. i could feel my blood pumping in my wrists. i could feel the sunlight splitting over my head. i was aware of each muscle in my foot bending and squeezing its way across the sand.

that was my first true experience with mindful walking, and good lord, i got addicted. for a walker, there really is nothing better - to just concentrate on the movement. each tiny, impossibly infinite movement.

i realized early on that my snazzy orange shoes were going to fit the bill for the fall months when it got too cold to barefoot my meditation around montreal.

and so when i stumbled out of bed this morning, and had to go back to my bedroom five separate times because i was so tired i kept forgetting things, and i couldn't make coffee, i decided to put them on. so i could feel the pavement beneath my soles, the soft fall grass, and try to pierce through my space cadet uniform.

it was hard. at first i kept noticing things and thinking about how much i wanted to blog, or take pictures of. ooh, look at the contrast of those red berries on the yellowing leaves of that hedge! that line from that sexton poem - i could use that in what i'm working on. i have that story due for next wednesday. etc., etc. so i started trying to incorporate my five senses.

the air smelled like nothing but cold. all of the fall colours (tree, and leaf, and burning bush, and house) stood out at once soft and incredibly vibrant after the rain. i listened to some girls speaking spanish together at the bus stop. i felt the soft cloth covers of the poetry books i've been carrying around to read at any small moment. and i felt myself sigh, just a little bit, and realize again, just how lucky i actually am.

a small, weenie p.s.

i give up.

since i moved to "waiting from the front porch" from "the language of eyes and tongues" i have not been able to figure out how to do my f***ing links. and this bothers me, because i read a lot of fabulous people and fabulous people should be discovering the other fabulous people that are out there.
plus, i want to honour the fabulous work that people are doing, out in blogland.

if you can help me, a girl who knows NOTHING about computers, to figure out how to get a f***ing links list on my page, i will literally send you the best chocolate bar in the entire world. it's even VEGAN, for you vegans out there.

if you'd like to get back to the regularly scheduled program, it's down below.

MEGA HIPPIE TO THE RESCUE!!!! :)

my original post for today went something like: i'm in essay-land, which is blahblahblah boring, to those of you who are not in university. suffice it to say, i'm in the throes of creating a 12-page paper which is worth 75% of my grade, which was already due two days ago...yammer yammer. i'll do it. i sort of have to, and i might not even get marks taken off, but that's sort of what's on the forefront of my mind.

that and my eating habits.

i do take an anti-depressant every day, but i'm also convinced that "you are what you eat" is one of the basic truths in the world. i try to eat pro-actively - by that i mean staying away from the things that i know will aggravate my health.

met (whose nickname, by the way, stems from the word metrosexual, because lord, when this boy goes out? his keychain lanyard has to match his OUTFIT) constantly tells me how much of a hippie i am, and i can't really refute it.

my mother, coming into my teenaged bedroom which was covered in jim morrison posters and stank like patchouli, used to tell me i was born in the wrong decade. i took that as a compliment.

i work at an organic food store for a reason - i'm into health food. i keep my nails short, because, on the one hand they split once they grow a millimetre, but also - long nails just get in the way. i don't dye my hair anymore. last spring i started shaving again after not doing so for 3 years. i want to live in the country eventually. i buy recycled everything, i pick garbage off the street to make art with (plus people around here throw away beautiful things because they suddenly go out of fashion), and i love wearing my overalls.

one of the things we heard most from people when we started telling people that we were together was, "really? but you're so different." sure we are, i guess, on the surface. for starters, there's the whole he's black/i'm white thing. then (oh my god!) there's the fact that we have different clothing styles. he likes reading plays and manga, and hates actual fiction, but he knows that he has to read mine. we write different genres. (he's the playwright, obviously. i'm the poet/short story girl.)

but underneath we are so similar, it's comforting. we love to talk about everything. we share the same fierce loyalty to our loved ones. we have the same weird, sarcastic sense of humour. we love to tease.

and the one thing he loves to tease me about the most is my hippie-ness. a couple months ago i realized how bad my anemia was getting. it was getting that bad because i never really cooked meat for myself, was not on a tofu kick, and i had stopped eating nuts out of loyalty to him. (would you keep something around your house that your loved one was fatally allergic to?)

so that situation had to be fixed in a hurry.

protein is also extra-specially good for me because of my c.p.

the more protein i eat, the less my muscles hurt, because the less they're eating themselves - so it's fun all around. so i started stocking up on different proteins.

then we got this book in the store. coconut oil is the next miracle food in the organics industry. mind that all i'm about to say is !!my opinion only!! but damn, does it promise a lot of good stuff. a lot of the fat that we eat (the scary fat, the one that we're warned about) is, more technically, a long-chained fatty acid. (don't know what that is? me neither.) coconut oil, on the other hand, is a medium-chain fatty acid - it helps break down a lot of the toxins in the body.

apparently, it can also: build up your immune system, slow down the effects of alzheimers', speed up your metabolism (therefore enabling you to lose weight), strengthen the connective tissues in your body, help brain function.

sounds wonderful? there's a catch, of course. the oil that you're supposed to take is highly stable - meaning it's thick. and waxy. and it's expensive (in canadian dollars i paid $26.95 for a 473 ml. bottle). and you have to take 4 tsps. a day.

so this morning it all sort of synthesized for me. here i was, making my oatmeal with extra quinoa and sunflower seed butter for protein (met calls that butter "whipped shit", if i recall, and REFUSES to try it) - and sweetening it with agave syrup and rice milk, and then i had my supplements all lined up - my effexor, sure, but my vitamin b12 (for my depression), and my coconut oil too. and i had this moment where i stood back and LAUGHED at myself.

because the transition is complete. i am now, officially, the mega hippie.

stop. look around. eat a strawberry.

i've been having these long discussions lately with a good friend, about how we both feel this compulsion to DEVOUR all aspects of life.

we want to be engaged every moment that we're awake - eat sumptuous meals three times a day, have interesting conversations about music and books, and paint on huge canvases. we want to fulfill our dreams of graduating school but still have time and space for that essential inner life.

if we did everything we wanted to, we would have very little time for sleep. (which i also love to do, voraciously.)

then yesterday i was in the shower, (which is, if i may admit, where a lot of my 'eureka' moments come to me) and it dawned on me, again, why i can feel that way - because sometimes it's a wonderful thing, to feel passion for every small thing, and to want to fill up the day with activity, and other times it can be stressful, and exhausting. right before my 'eureka' moment in the shower yesterday, i had asked myself the question, so why, again, are you doing five courses and working 20 hours a week?

to answer that i have to give a bit of family herstory. i have one of those histories that literally make hospitals want to do case studies on me. my mother, as i've mentioned before, died of breast cancer at the age of 51 in 1999; she was sick for 3 years. but that's not all.

my aunt died of breast cancer that had metastasized to her lungs at the age of 56 in 2001. she had been sick for only a few months, but she had had cancer once before in the mid 1970's.

my other aunt died of breast cancer at the age of 31 in 1974.

my grandmother died of breast cancer at the age of 44 in 1956.

my great-grandmother died of breast cancer in her mid-forties' somewhere in the 1930's.

and, i believe, my great great grandmother as well, but the dates are REALLY vague once you go that far back.

these women are all on my mother's side, and of course, i've known about this as part of my herstory since i was born. but i won't lie - once the numbers started adding up, and i figured out the ages of the women (see how no-one made 60?) i kind of got scared.

add that to a severe bout of depression that in essence, immobilized me for a lot of my mid-twenties' (dropped out of school, never left the hometown, stopped writing, etc.) that sort of put me on a negative thinking track for a while that what life i did have i was squandering.

so once i vaulted myself out of my depression enough to get to montreal and enroll in school - i think i subconsciously was thinking i had to make up for lost time. i should have graduated by now! my friends are all doing their masters'! this girl i knew in high school just got a book of poems published - where's my manuscript? why aren't i married with kids? etc., etc. so that explains the workload that i voluntarily take on that threatens to crush me by the second month.

another good friend i have has been coming to terms with his own depression, and he confided in me that he didn't know how to love himself. i gave him some advice that i swear, i cribbed from deepak chopra: let your heart make your decisions, from what time you get up in the morning, to what kind of coffee you order at starbucks, to what you write in your journal. not forever, but just long enough to let the sprouts of love and self-knowledge bloom.

your heart, i told him, will squiggle a little if you make a decision that feels uncomfortable.

that is, i think, what i've been doing these past few weeks - trying to give myself room to grow, to make decisions that will make me feel good, that will speed along my healing process so that i am once again able to love and cherish the people in my life the way i want to.

there are things i'd love to do right now, to feed my inner life, that i just don't have time for - at the moment. but i'm keeping track of them, so i can get started on them in a few weeks. these include: emails to a few people who i've been sorely neglecting, some snail mail, beading a necklace, a gigantic painting, and the longest poem i have ever attempted writing. i feel all this creative energy bubbling up, this creative energy that i in part want to use to honour the people i love in my life, and it's sort of killing me that it has to be subverted into essay-writing and shakespeare reading. but there you have it - a long-term goal of my soul that i committed to achieving a long time ago.

what i am doing, which i think is creating that inner life, is slowing down. taking time, each day, just for me, and realizing my actual potential - whether it's meditating for five minutes, watching half an hour of a movie while i eat leftover soup, or going to yoga. or reading eat pray love while i should be reading my coursework instead. once i gave myself that little bit of extra room, it allowed my heart to grow a little bit - and i am able to see what i can and cannot do without jeopardizing my health.

because, you know, i am going to die, someday. there is nothing in life that's certain except for death and taxes, after all. but rather than dwell on it, or have my actions be propelled into hyper-speed by some unconscious motivation to pack it all in before some mysterious number shows up - i'd rather just stop. look around. eat a strawberry. breathe, take it all in, and savour my life. every moment of it - whether peaceful, passionate, sad, or thoughtful - because each moment is unique and will only happen once.

just like the way it's happening now.

these are the signs of my sumptuous slow-living life that are making me smile:

• pomegranate stains on my keyboard from when i was typing all juicy yesterday.
• words for dr y by anne sexton (for the looooong poem).
• a postcard that i got in the mail from this sumptuous goddess today (thank you, susannah!!).
• mango nectar.
• the last 1/2 hour of the pledge. quite honestly, i've never understood the de niro thing, but i've ALWAYS understood the jack thing.
• hugs.
• starting to find christmas presents in the unlikeliest places.
• planning two.trips. for the new year!! (one just for me, and one for met and i...) thank god i travel cheap.

i am aware of the blessings in my life, that come to me in sweet, small packages and that are wrapped up in the hearts of dear people. i want to thank and honour each one of you for being one of them.

thank you for spending a moment with me.

the image of the painting i borrowed from here.

the post where bee uses some sanskrit

this poster hangs by the changing rooms in my yoga studio. it is something i try and look at and meditate on every time i go there - but like everything else i pay attention to, it only registers on my consciousness every so often.

yoga, translated from the sanskrit, means unity - unity with the divine source of love that is god, and the universe. according to patanjali's yoga sutras, (which is basically one of the philosophical texts of yoga, if you're into that sort of thing) there are 5 'colourings of thought' that stand between you and that source of divinity.

the mind is a powerful thing, and god knows why it would want to keep you separate from the union, but there you have it.

i've spoken a lot in this blog about my need to let go - how i think it is one of the things that i am the worst at, and therefore have the most to learn from. when i get all bent out of shape i find it very hard to trust the universe - to understand, as i do when i feel grounded, that there is a reason for all of what is happening in my life, and that on this journey i am where i am supposed to be.

for some reason, when i look at the kleshas, i see how much they stand between me and acceptance, how much they stand between me and actual peace.

1) Avidya, spiritual forgetting, ignorance, veiling:
Vidya is with knowledge: Vidya means knowledge, specifically the knowledge of Truth. It is not a mere mental knowledge, but the spiritual realization that is beyond the mind. When the "A" is put in front of Vidya (to make it Avidya), the "A" means without.
Avidya is without knowledge: Thus, Avidya means without Truth or without knowledge. It is the first form of forgetting the spiritual Reality. It is not just a thought pattern in the conventional sense of a thought pattern. Rather, it is the very ground of losing touch with the Reality of being the ocean of Oneness, of pure Consciousness.



i believe that we are all connected. i think, in a lot of ways, that's why i resonate so much with this community of bloggers. it is the idea of participating in something with my whole, true self, and being acknowledged and identified with for that. it's a constant reminder that yes, other people feel the same way i do, or yes, they can relate. we are so much more similar than we are different.
but yet - there are times when i falter.
i had a very cool dream the other night.
the tree that i can see from my bedroom window has finally lost all its golden leaves, and for some reason as i drifted off i thought it looked like a hand. that image followed me into the dreamworld where the tree (or the universe in disguise) and i were playing a game of trust.
you know, that game where you stand with your back to someone, close your eyes, and fall backwards, trusting that the other person will catch you? that one.
in my dream, i was hesitating, until this unearthly voice came out of nowhere and said, chidingly, "what? you're not going to trust the universe?" at which point i realized how silly i was being, and fell backwards. and was, of course, caught.
we are all part of this universe, all contributing to its energy and forward motion.

2) Asmita, associated with I-ness:
Nature of I-ness: Asmita is the finest form of individuality. It is not I-am-ness, as when we say, "I am a man or woman," or "I am a person from this or that country". Rather, it is I-ness that has not taken on any of those identities.

i take this to mean when we get involved too much in our own lives, our own small dramas. and man, do i ever. when i start feeling sorry for myself because my body feels sore, or when i think about how long i've been figuring out my depression, or when people tell me how their parents bought them toilet paper and groceries to last a week and i think to myself, "but...i don't have parents like that. i wish i did..."
i feel, although this is simply my interpretation, that asmita and avidya are closely linked.




3) Raga, attraction or drawing to:
Once there is the primary forgetting called Avidya, and the rising of individuality called Asmita, there is now the potential for attachment, or Raga.

oh, lord. can i get a hell yeah?? snippets from my thoughts over the past few months: i don't want to drop one of my five courses, because then i'll have to admit to myself that i'm not a super woman! or i can't write this story - it will never turn out the way i want it to. or i'm worried about my relationship. i know he said he loved me, but that was yesterday. or countless other times when i have not wanted to relinquish control over a situation. which is funny, because i never had control in the first place.



4) Dvesha, aversion or pushing away:
Aversion is actually another form of attachment. It is what we are trying to mentally push away, but that pushing away is also a form of connection, just as much as attachment is a way of pulling towards us.



how many times have i given myself a hard time about feeling a certain way, because i think i shouldn't be? how i tried to dress my pessimistic thoughts in optimistic clothing because i was scared that other people would reject me for them? when i wasn't being honest about where and who i was because....because of some reason. i think that this klesha is here to remind me that the only way i can harm myself, and others, is by not being honest about who i am.
it doesn't mean bashing someone over the head with my version of honesty...but you know what i'm saying.

5) Abhinivesha, resistance to loss, fear:
Once the balance has been attained between the many attractions and aversions, along with having the foundation I-ness and spiritual ignorance, there comes an innate desire to keep things just the way they are.

...um. yeah. i have been known to throw a tantrum or two if things change too quickly.

these are things i'm currently working on, in my meditation practice. watching thoughts come up, and labelling them. seeing what will happen as i label them - whether their impact on me will dissolve somewhat, or not.

...i just got an email from my psych prof. turns out that i have to 1) write a 10-12 page essay and 2) read all the chapters i missed for psych, all by 9 tomorrow. so if i'm quiet for a bit, i'm just drowning in work.

information about the kleshas found here.

release

i feel better now. i was able to talk to met for an hour or so - and he was able to help me put it into perspective -
"you've been through a lot, this weekend. sometimes you don't heal on a timetable....maybe why you're so angry is that you still need to allow yourself to feel."
so i did. and he was with me, the whole way through - hearing each tear, then by the end of it, making me laugh.

thank god.

i also read for a little bit, am going to sit and meditate for a while, then i'm going to kick this essay's ass.

...i'm not too impressed with the quality of today's posts...but my commitment wasn't exactly to quality, but to an honest reflection of where i am in the healing process. but i do apologize for those of who are reading this tripe.

you might just want to skip this one

i think the post that i was trying to create is going to have to wait.

i'm so angry right now i don't know what to do with myself. i'm kind of happy i'm angry, rather than depressed, but it still is such a foreign emotion to me. i just got in from some time spent at the library, researching the essay that's due tomorrow - (and worth 75% of my grade) and sitting down, trying to pull together a post before i eat some soup and start writing - just wasn't working. first of all, the mouse for my computer isn't working properly, so it's literally as though i have to sum up all my energy to get the cursor around where i want it on the screen.

maybe it's just that i woke up at 9:33 this morning, when i wanted to go to a yoga class that started at 10 and i live about 20 minutes walking distance from the studio. i hate not having my 'adjustment period' in the morning and throwing myself out of bed, getting dressed, deciding i don't need to brush my teeth and grabbing my stuff for studying in 7 minutes definitely doesn't qualify.

maybe it's that once i got to yoga, my body decided to continue the further humiliation it started on friday when i took my second-ever anusara class. (i would link to what anusara is, but i think my head would literally explode.) on friday, my body seemed to throw back in my face all the optimism that i'd engendered from tuesday - oh, so you think you might be able to teach yoga? bwa ha ha ha ha. do this little, itty-bitty posture, and see how long it takes before you fall out of it. today, as i sat on my mat (late), and closed my eyes for the small meditation that takes place at each class, i couldn't do what jodie was asking us to do - with each inhalation, draw in the positive, with each exhalation let go of the negative - my mind was not having any of that. it was throwing up all sorts of resistance - you missed your psych midterm on monday - what are you going to do if the prof doesn't let you re-take it? ... i wonder what met's up to?...trust you to have left such a huge essay for the day before, bee...and then my body was stiff and sore and it was like, bam! i've had no training at all and all my flexibility has gone south along with the geese for the winter.

so frustrating.

so yes, if you followed my crazy stream-of-consciousness up there - i'm angry with myself for being so caught up in recovery that i missed a midterm, which means one of two things - either the prof lets me make it up, somehow, or i have to drop the class so it won't affect my g.p.a. i'm also pissed that i have a 12-page paper due tomorrow, that i need to basically start now. and it's worth 75% of my fucking grade.

i wrote "i'm angry with my body" but that's not true. i'm angry that i'm still dealing with the health issue that i mentioned a few posts ago. i hate it that every so often i have to relive that moment. i hate it that no matter how much i want to i can't let it go - that my body won't let me. what the hell is the lesson i'm supposed to learn from this? i'm ready to learn!

i'm angry at my ex. there's a part of me that wants to be able to forgive him, so that i can release the pain and hurt that he inflicted on me, and that i inflicted on myself as a result, but i just can't. there is also a part of me that wants to see him suffer. that wants make sure he feels as much pain as he caused. and how useful is that? i want to grind his face underneath the heel of a very spiky stiletto.

i'm angry because a customer i hoped to never see again, due to the inappropriateness of his behaviour towards me, came into the store not once, but twice yesterday and forced me to relive the first time i met him.

i'm angry at married people and people who are able to walk hand-in-hand with their partners down the street, or wait for the metros all snuggled up together. i know this is a silly and petty thing and normally i'm so happy for people who have found true happiness with their loved one -but goddamn, i've found my soulmate and we never see each other. right now we're in the middle of this ridiculous game of phone tag that is just...i just want him to walk through my door and grab me and let me release. but of course he can't - he's got so much shit on his plate right now, he's lucky if he has any energy left to sleep. i'm serious.

in the book that i'm reading, eat pray love, there's this part near the end of the india section where gilbert says (something like) it is the mind's last defense, to throw up resistance in the form of negative thought, as it doesn't want to let in the divinity of god's love.
i've often thought along those lines, but good lord...

this helped a little. at least now i'm not spitting and tearing my hair out and crying and pacing back and forth. as i was quite literally doing about half an hour ago.

i'm sorry. i needed to vent. keeping this rage inside of me was poisonous.

3 poems for a saturday

for the real post for today, you can skip one down...but i realized i haven't posted any of my poetry in a while. it seems strange, considering that i a) belong to poetry thursday (oh? what? i'm a member? whoops!) and that b) writing's all i've ever done with my life, to the extent that i've enrolled myself in a university program to learn more about it.

the answer is truly simple...this is a place for me to figure shit out, to think about the big questions, or remind myself of beauty...my other 'work' feels so separate, somehow.
...interesting thoughts...i want to go read...


To Kate

Kate and I spend our grocery money on pedicures,
sitting in the maroon chairs at the Island Sun Spa,
pretending we are celebrities drinking coffee out of paper cups.

In the windows are dyed orchids in vases; framed
pictures of women in sunglasses, their bleached hair upswept;
piles of fashion magazines, wilting in the sun.

Kate sits, poised as porcelain, her fingers folded in her lap,
as the esthetician, a fat woman wearing pastel,
rubs her feet with the pumice stone.

We don’t talk; this is a sacred occasion,
one incensed with apple-scented fly paper,
framed by the ticking ceiling fan.

Kate dresses her toes in mango sorbet, I choose
vintage rosee; and we have our nails filed, our cuticles tucked
to a discreet distance, and then dried under lamps

and then we pay, and leave, passing Loblaws
on the way down Meadowlands, and open beers
to celebrate, sitting in our first backyard.

Later, I will wake at midnight to find Kate
eating three crackers in the dark, her arms
gleaming like the scales of whitefish on the counter.


Failed Love Affair

When we met, it was a Tuesday, and I was twenty-three,
sitting demurely on the bar stool at Darcy McGees.
There was a mean rain outside the window.

We went back to your apartment off Somerset.
You told me that from your front window, you watched
a prostitute being beaten by a policeman, how her head
sounded like fruit, hitting the hood of the car.
You poured rum and cokes for us, and we drank
side by side on your love seat,
listening to Perry Como,
until my head hurt from the sugar.

You were the first man I kissed who bit my lower lip,
who pushed me against a wall and held my wrists
as your mouth went to the freckles on my shoulder.
You whispered “you’re such a doll” into my neck,
until I felt strangled, until I felt the mask slide up,
with its clicking eyes, its rambutan eyelashes.

In the morning you made eggs with salsa for breakfast,
I set the table neatly, fussing over the placemats.
We ate quietly, alone with our earl-grey tea and hangovers,
until you said, “You know I’m never going to leave my girlfriend.
Right?”

I just felt tired. My head hurt, I wanted black coffee,

I wanted to go home.


A Seizure They Call Petit Mal

I find out by falling out of bed:
the carpet on the ceiling, my tongue tripped,
hanging loosely in my throat.

My arms and legs, slackened like gunny sacks
full of soft mud, thump,
useless metronomes against the wood floor, my bed frame,
my eyes, which suddenly have blinkered minds of their own.

Then Dad rushes in, leans over me
so I can smell his sour dream breath, he calls my name
his voice slow as syrup in my ears
and I lean forward, commanded,
into his palm.

The hall light undulates around me like
an eel, a moray, some order of anguilleformes
sliding, surreptitious, clean-cut as a knife.
I perform the dance it wants, stepping with feet
gone mad with rubber,

as Dad holds my back,
and Mom, on the kitchen phone,
screams for a doctor.

I walk like this for hours, a drunken marionette,
until the room
reverts
becomes once again the clear space
with white walls,
book shelves,
a piano
standing muted in the corner.

tapestry

i sat for a few minutes this morning, and wondered how to start this entry. i wrote: the feeling of quiet is still persisting, which is true, and breathe in, breathe out, which is what i have been trying to do.

yesterday in my yoga class, the instructor kept talking about being in the present moment. she said that's why she was asking us to do so many difficult and strenuous postures - because by being in "slight pain", we wouldn't be able to lose mindfulness, and therefore would just stay in the moment.

that philosophy was of great help to me. yesterday i tried to stay aware of my feelings, but not let them overwhelm me. i walked a lot - from my apartment to the studio and back, to work and back, and each step i took i literally told myself, it's okay to feel what you are feeling. give yourself space. breathe. what happened during and after this was just...an understanding of my feelings as part of the bigger picture, not the picture. which was comforting in itself.

another thing i tried to do yesterday was receive the beauty that the universe was trying to show me. it came in a number of different ways: having a long talk about meditation, food, and yoga with my boss; being told that i had really helped a customer by recommending a certain herb for a blood cleanse; helping another customer navigate her total terror at being diagnosed with celiac disease; walking home in the evening under one of those night skies where you can still see all the clouds.

i came home and talked with banane for a while, then did some dishes and took my crock pot out of the cupboard. making soup is one of the most soothing, nourishing activities for me. it's incredibly simple: i chopped garlic and some onions, added the chicken bones and broccoli stems from last night's dinner, diced up two beets, mixed in a quarter of a yam, put in three tomatoes, added a fistful of rice and then filled up the pot with water. i spiced it the way i felt like in the moment (cumin, coriander, pepper, lemon, salt, dill, oregano, and bay), turned it on low, and then when i woke up this morning, i had soup.

after i made the soup i poured myself a drink and curled up on the couch to watch the first hour of the libertine, because really? who can't be cheered up by watching johnny depp play a nymphomanic?

and then i went to bed, in gloriously clean sheets, and spooned with a cat who is more and more reminding me of 'nana' from peter pan. and i woke up this morning and...well, it's still there, to be honest - that little pit of sad - but i understand it more. i know that if i just let it tell me what it needs to tell me, we will both be healed by it.

i learned a lot about this healing process from yesterday: that i am making progress, but that there will be set-backs. that it is all part of one continuum, and as long as i try to keep my heart open, even if it feels shut, i will be learning something.

continuum. that was the word that spun around in my head as i fell asleep last night. i mean it in the sense of a tapestry, which is how i tend to think of people's individual lives. the universe (or god, or whatever you would like to call what you believe in) picks souls and gives each the pattern that it is supposed to weave during its lifetime. sometimes you might run out of wool, or somebody will bump into you and spill coffee on the right hand corner - and at first you might feel sad - that all of a sudden, in mid-stitch, you had to switch from orange to purple wool,

or that you will never be able to get the smell of overboiled decaf out of it. but that's what makes your tapestry your own - those mistakes, the events that you were not able to control, and your responses to them, become reminders of the way you lived.

i'm living a pretty good one.

i found the picture of the second-hottest man in the universe here. *ahem* enjoy. i know i did.

the image of the tapestry i found here.

questioning

this is going to be hard for me to write today. i feel myself not opening up, but forcing myself to stay in front of my computer, when all i want to do is make some coffee, grab my book, and read.

i should be cleaning my apartment. it's pretty nasty in here.

i woke up today feeling out of sorts; i couldn't exactly figure out why. yesterday was sort of strange for me in lots of ways. it was the first time i felt that balloon of optimism that's been growing in my chest as of late deflate a little. reasons why it might have deflated a little:

• had my first talk with banane since the events of last week transpired. told her everything - about the psych ward, even about me being on medication again. and she asked me some questions that i'd been thinking to myself. she said, "do you think you're bi-polar?" and i said, "oh, i know i am."
• had my second counselling session with the counsellor i was referred to last week. she commented on how well i seemed to be doing, but also to not be too hard on myself if i couldn't do all i was committing myself to doing.

these two events made me feel strange. strange because i've noticed this being a pattern with myself before - i get very depressed, then i get very optimistic. i plunge, i skyrocket. over and over. it made me start questioning myself - my good mood, my healing process - and wonder if it was just a trick of brain chemistry, instead of actual change. which made me feel kind of shitty.

so i got home from my appointment and realized that i had only a few hours to transform my i've-been-writing-essays-for-too-long apartment into something that would look date-worthy, as met was coming over at 6 to hang out for the night, for the first time since the day before my birthday. (seriously. that is dangerously close to 2 weeks.)

my mother instilled in me a while ago that a person's living quarters were a direct reflection of their mental state. maybe that's why i get freaked out if people come over and it's not spotless. but he showed up early at 5:30 and i...was totally unready. i had a clay face mask on. (yup. dried green goo all over my face.) i hadn't done dishes in a week. i felt sort of panicky, for a while, and then i just told myself - no. you are not going to let this bother you. but it still kind of did.

i don't know if this will make sense to anyone, but i worry that because he's so clean that he will never be able to actually live with me.

we had a wonderful date. we needed it. he left at 12, and i promptly crashed, then i woke up and that feeling was still there. that all is not right with the world feeling. so i told myself, "take thee to a yoga class!" even though i very much didn't want to.

the yoga class was kind of humiliating. my body was stiff, we did all sorts of postures i felt shaky in...it was good, in a way, but not the release i normally look for. it was a painful one.

i have to admit something here: every so often, i have a certain health problem. it's too embarassing to admit to anyone, even met doesn't know exactly what it is. when it occurs, i simply take care of it the best way i can, as privately as i can, and try to get on with my life. this particular problem was caused as a result of a particular rape.

i have it right now. and no matter how much i try to be gentle with myself, i always feel ashamed. and dirty, and angry, and tearful. i wish it would just go away so i could permanently heal, but it just won't.

then on the way back from my class i realized what day it was. today is the day where 8 years ago, i started dating my first serious boyfriend. we were 19 when we met in residence, and he was with me throughout my mother's last illness and her death. he couldn't reconcile the person i became immediately afterwards with the person i had been before.

i tried to tell him things were not good between us for a long time, but he could never accept it. he would always tell me, "all couples fight" and that i was just over-reacting. he wanted the old me back.

things went sharply downhill in year 2. the end came quickly, in january, the day i found out my aunt died. (i want to tell the full story, but something, some exhaustion, is just not letting me). i tried to break up with him, he told me that because i was still sleeping in his bed that he had certain "rights" and used that excuse a few times. i tried to disconnect from my body.

right before i moved out, which was months earlier than i should've, we got into a huge fight. i came home from a night out with friends and found that he had rummaged through my 'office', the place where i did my homework and had started sleeping. it was the one small room in a house full of men where i felt safe, and could be myself. things were flipped over. diaries were open. i had drunk a little beer beforehand and so stormed downstairs and turned on the light and started screaming at him, how dare you go into my room? that was my space! and then...he got angry and he beat me.

it ended - everything ended - when he was straddled on top of me on the bed with one hand holding my good arm down, the other hand strangling me. then i saw his eyes clear. and he let me go. and it took a while for the air to come back in my lungs and when i did i started to cry and i went up to the kitchen, called my friends who lived around the corner and promptly left.

my best friend took me into her kitchen, forced me to take my clothes off and took pictures of the bruises he left, in case i ever wanted to press charges. i never did.

today is the day when we started going out.

i'm crying, just a little, right now.

p.s. i just tried to blog-surf to see people and say hi, and i just can't do it right now. maybe later...but if i don't show up today, i'm sorry.

"taste the moment"

"you are never given a wish without the power to make it come true. you may have to work for it, however." ~richard bach

yesterday had one of those sheens over it - the i've-only-got-3-hours-of-sleep-so-i'm-hopelessly-giddy sheens. it was a fun wave to ride. i had my first class and then realized that shakespeare had been cancelled so i all of a sudden had an extra hour and half to myself.

so i decided to get drunk. on books.

i went to the library first - because i had to print out some submissions that i had to edit for my prose workshop, which was the last class of the day.
i've been thinking about and chewing on the poem i started writing last wednesday for a while - the one i'm calling 'the hospital suite'. i'm really excited about it - i'm going to try and do something i've never done before with it, which is write an extremely long (i'm talking pages) poem. i don't have any more submissions for this semester in poetry but i'd like, ideally, to submit it next year.
because it's sort of a dark poem, i thought i'd completely saturate myself in anne sexton.
i love this woman, (i think i've mentioned that before)...but to be honest, i haven't read as much of her as i'd've liked to. i've been dying to meet her for a while, but...life can just get insanely busy.
so, now, in my front hallway, all under the guise of 'doing work/research' (hee!) are 5 sexton books:

• the awful rowing towards god
• to bedlam and partway back
• love poems
• the death notebooks
• words for dr. y

all waiting, pretty much, for me to get naked and roll around in them in gratitude. oh, and CONSUME them.

then i went walking. i sat outside and edited the submissions for prose. (it was only slightly spitty, in terms of rain, and i thought to myself - if you want to sit outside, and you actually can, without freezing your tits off, you should. it's november. there aren't too many days left where this will be possible.) i walked to a book store on ste. catherine and i bought basically what i think i am going to call soul cocaine.

i first heard about this book probably a few months ago, through somebody in the blogging community. more and more people read it - and were commenting about it - and i got more than mildly intrigued. but i'm in the creative writing at school - a program just like english, except you have to open your veins up consistently in front of other people - meaning there's a lot of reading. like, a lot. and it's getting to the end of the semester which means there's a lot of reading to the nth degree - so even though the pull of that book has been getting stronger as of late, i kept saying, no, bee. you'll just shoot yourself in the foot. it can be your christmas present. wait a month. well, i couldn't. i bought it and i read it and i'm telling you, i'm only on page 100-something but it is changing. my. life.

if i could ask everyone who may read this to do just one thing for me it would be to go out and find this book and just read the first page. today. but i can't, so the least i can do is tell y'all that if you want me to, once i'm finished i will mail it out. it can be like the slowest book club in the universe. but you owe it to yourself.

"I find the endurance of the Augusteum so reassuring, that this structure has had such an erratic career, yet always adjusted to the wildness of the times. ... I look at the Augusteum, and i think that perhaps my life has not actually been so chaotic, after all. It is only this world that is chaotic, bringing changes to us all that nobody could have anticipated. The Augusteum warns me not to get attached to any obsolete ideas about who I am, what I represent, whom I belong to, or what function I may once have intended to serve. Yesterday I may have been a glorious monument to somebody, true enough - but tomorrow I could be a fireworks depository. Even in the Eternal City, says the silent Augusteum, one must always be prepared for riotous and endless waves of transformation." (page 75).

see? see???

once i bought the book, i slipped back out into the rain. which felt so wonderful on my skin. i took off my jacket - too hot - and walked around. i was thinking i might go to the museum, since all my work was done and i had an hour to myself - but i really wanted to just read the book and i didn't want to be torn between sucking up art and sucking up words. so i was considering what to do when i saw a breakfast place. and let me tell you, breakfast is one of my favourite meals any time of the day. and i just thought, do it.

so i went in, and they sat me at a booth, and i sat there grinning at all the customers and servers alike who looked at me, and i ordered an orange juice and eggs with fresh fruit and a side of sausage, and coffee. and i opened my book and started to read, and the orange juice tasted like the oranges had just been peeled, and the booth was comfortable, and i just settled:

into my body

into my breath

into the experience

and then i looked up at that moment and directly in front of me was this poster on the wall that said, taste the moment.

which is, i think, what i was doing. a more blissful bee you never would have found.

in my prose class, i got a shock and a half. my teacher, whom i love to death, and who has forgiven me for being a brat on many occasions (yesterday, we had to give 'book reports' in class. mine was on the life of pi [sorry, jessie, i didn't like it]. the deal was that it couldn't be a book that we had read before, or any book that might ever be on a course syllabus. and so, of course, yesterday i piped up,

"t! you tricked us! we actually didn't have to read anything for this, did we? because this is an ASSIGNMENT. so we shouldn't have read anything!"

and t just looked at me, his face splitting into a grin, and said, "you're calling me a paradox, aren't you."

and i said, "yes."

and he said, "deal.")

...well, he's a great teacher for a reason. he quit school in grade 10 and went up north for years to drive rigs. (and i mean, north. like north west territories north.) he's lived and published books and he is the most relaxed, affable person on the face of the planet. he's someone i think i want to be friends with for a very long time. i'd love to get drunk with him one of these days. but regardless for how i admire his artistic ethic (and no, i haven't read any of his books yet. i sort of refuse to do that with people while i'm in their class. it gives it a weird dynamic) he is a tough, fair, appraising teacher. i can implicitly trust his advice and his opinion.

yesterday we group-edited these assignments that we turn in on the first monday of every month - they're called first-pagers, and that's what they literally are: the first page of a story. we split into groups and give out 4 copies of our pages and then return next class with comments.

and he liked mine. he called it 'lovely', with a 'nice tone and pace'. i was flabbergasted. i've never got such unequivocal praise from t before, and it meant. a. lot.

my day drizzled to a close from there. i got home with mighty intentions to clean, and did manage to go and buy the cat litter i needed to, but instead - well, i felt like lying on the couch, eating m&m's and reading eat pray love. so that's exactly what i did.

it was a beautiful day. i just sort of let it happen, and that's where it took me.

where will your day lead you? will you let yourself listen to the whispers of the universe? will you share a tasty moment of yours with me? (hint: if you don't feel up to a tasty moment...it's easy to create one. treat yourself to something that you've been wanting but denying yourself. don't let yourself feel guilty for it, in the same way you wouldn't feel guilty for receiving a gift on your birthday. there are constant opportunities to be reborn. consider today your re-birthday.)

...you should also read this post, for an eloquent essay on what i think i've been meditating on a lot lately.

the magic in the everyday

there are so many important things to say right now i'm stumbling around trying to figure out where to start.

i was writing an email yesterday morning, in the hour i usually give myself in front of the computer before the day starts, and in the midst of writing, i had this thought apropos of my essay:

by not writing it, it's inhibiting me from graduating. i know that particular nugget of wisdom has been waving its little hand at me over the past few days, trying to get me to pay attention to it, but yesterday is when it fully sunk in.

and i'm 28, still working on my first undergraduate degree. i know 8 years trying to accomplish something off and on doesn't seem like the hardest, but i've had to face so many things down just to come back - and nobody thought i could finish school, including myself, when i moved here to do just that.

once i changed my thinking process to recognize essays as hurdles in my academic life, and figured that i have maybe, maximum 15 left to write ever....my little shakespearean block fell away and i was able to write a 10-page paper on midsummer night's dream and twelfth night. i'm not sure what its quality is, but it's done, and that enables me to move on with my life, already.

that took up most of my day, as you can imagine - that, and the 8 packages of poetry i had to edit for last night's workshop (catch up from last week). but i did it. not only that, but i looked at the clock around 5:15 and stopped working, even though i had some points to clarify in the paper, to go to yoga.

and yoga was amazing. i almost didn't go, but i made myself, and i'm so glad i did.

i attend a small studio that is sort of in my neighbourhood - an upper-level loft above a coffee shop and a hardware store. i almost always end up taking the same woman's classes, because of scheduling and interest, and last night was no different.

what was cool was that there was only one other student.

because there was only 3 of us, (jodie, myself, and a girl who had taken her first yoga class ever 2 weeks ago) the class took on an improvisational quality about ten minutes past the introductory pranayama - seated meditation and breathing exercises. the other student was asking about how to do a particular posture, and then i mentioned something about not having much flexibility - and then the three of us engaged in a discussion and all of a sudden we were working on flexibility, doing partner asanas.

i love partner yoga, even though i rarely do it. i love the way jodie teaches her class - she's so relaxed, and her classes are more about deeeeeeep, thoughtful stretching that my muscles really respond to - and it was fun to use another person as prop to get deeper into the stretch, the breathing, the meditation.

through that exercise i realized a few things about myself.

first, i'm a LOT more flexible (or, at least i was yesterday) then i thought. usually i think about how stiff i get - but going into so many poses, i kept having these holy shit, i'm doing this??!! moments.

second, i did the shoulder stand with splits for the first time ever. (refer back to the holy shit, i'm doing this?!! moment above.)

third, i realized i've been unconsciously talking about something for years now - always putting it off, always saying "wait until i graduate" - but i don't necessarily have to. it would be good for my body and i'm thinking the universe wants me to go there: i'm going to look into applying for my teacher training in hatha. hopefully i will start this summer.

i, of course, don't know if i am at the technical level yet. but seeing where my body was yesterday - and knowing where it could be very easily, and feeling inspired - i want to give it a try.

a good friend of mine always said, to make an idea truly happen for yourself, start making it happen 24 hours after you decide to do it. today i'm going to look up costs.

after i did my class i went to my poetry workshop - which lasted until 11, and by the time i caught the last shuttle, the shuttle got to my neighbourhood, and i walked back to my apartment, it was quarter to midnight, and i still had to finish the essay.

so i made myself a tiny pot of yerba mate (i just started drinking it seriously this week, and i'm a complete and utter convert) and i wrote.

when i got to the bottom of the pot, i had this unmistakeable urge. the yerba mate i was drinking was loose leaves, and they had settled in the bottom of my cup. god knows why, i've never done it before, but something made me stir up the leaves with my finger, clock-wise, and turn the cup over.

the shape that came out was unmistakeably a turtle. and just for kicks, i googled "turtle symbolism" to see what would come up.

and shivers ran up and down my spine.

these are excerpts from the first website i looked at:

"...in the Far East, the shell was a symbol of heaven, and the square underside was a symbol of earth. The turtle was an animal whose magic united heaven and earth. The turtle is a creation of nature that carries its round shell over the ground, like heaven, and has a flat bottom, like earth.

Turtles seem to possess an enviable and god-like resistance to aging, and so they came to symbolize longevity. Their link to heaven and earth made them a natural for use in divination. Turtles are also symbols of immortality and are considered temporary dwelling places for souls making their way through a series of lives on the path to Nirvana.

According to some Native American tales, the Earth Diver turtle swam to the bottom of the water that stretched across the world. He surfaced with the mud which the creator used to make the earth. The turtle is a shore creature, using the land and the water. All shore areas are associated with doorways to the Faerie Realm. The turtle is sometimes known as the keeper of the doors. They were often seen as signs of fairy contact and the promise of fairy rewards.

In Nigeria, the turtle was a symbol of the female sex organs and sexuality. To the Native Americans, it was associated with the lunar cycle, menstruation, and the power of the female energies.
The markings and sections on some turtles total thirteen. In the lunar calendar, there are either thirteen full moons or thirteen new moons alternating each year. Many believe this is where the association with the female energies originated. The turtle symbolizes the primal mother and Mother Earth.

Turtles remind us that the way to heaven is through the earth. In Mother Earth is all that we need. She will care for us, protect us, and nurture us, as long as we do the same for her. For that to happen, we must slow down and heighten our sensibilities. We must see the connection to all things. Just as the turtle cannot separate itself from its shell, neither can we separate ourselves from what we do to the earth."

i found myself resonating with this wisdom as though a cosmic gong had sounded through my entire body. i really felt my whole body, my whole mind, stop and stare and try to absorb this information.

i've been thinking lately about how my own environmentalism has become a bit lax...and how i need to fix that. when i was in nicaragua a few years ago, i remember being so sad as i stood on the seashore, watching the garbage-filled waves roll in, that i made a vow to the earth. i said, out loud, how i would be a warrior for her, to try and protect what is left, to restore what is damaged.

i don't think i've made good on my promise at all.

there's this native american saying which says, "in our every deliberation we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations." i truly believe that - and it's not something i've lived with awareness towards lately.

the day is cotton-soft outside my window - it's early and i've got to slip away to hand in my essay before the english office opens at 9. the rain falls from a warm, silver sky...and my apartment smells like dark coffee. i looked down at my arm yesterday and the scars from last week have healed over - leaving only the faintest trace, like the etching of a fork, on my skin...a reminder to be aware all the time, to take care of myself and others, to be gentle.

namaste

truthday

“happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” ~gandhi

yesterday, i had what can only be described as a breakthrough.

i was writing my morning post, and i had finished it and i looked at it and thought to myself, "this shouldn't be a post. it should be an email." i had made a promise to myself about 3 weeks ago that i wouldn't edit myself here, but a lot of the things that i spoke about in that first draft should have come to the attention of one person before anyone else.

so i deleted it and wrote the most liberating email i have ever written. seriously.

it's been no secret that i've been working on and through a lot of my insecurities in my relationship with met; however, just like anyone who wants to keep up a certain facade, i had done my best to hide these things from him. i think that's part of what precipitated last week.
so i took a deep breath, and wrote it down. every little thing that i was worried about, that i was trying to keep from him because i wanted to be stronger than that. correction: i wanted to appear stronger than that.

when i was done i took another deep breath and sent it before i could change my mind.

what followed was incredible, even by my standards. we essentially talked all day about it. i found out some hard truths that were cushioned by his love for me. (namely, that i was right and when he found out i was less independent than he had originally thought, he was disappointed.)...but i needed to know those things. i also needed to know that i could be myself and he would still love me.
he says all the time (and he's right, mostly) that he sees through the acts i put on for other people, but as i found out last week he can't really decipher things that i purposely try to hide from him. i wasn't sure if my insecurities fell under the first category or the second. anyway, i realized that it was a whole lot of psychic weight that i didn't want to carry around anymore.

i mean, think about it. i was putting a lot of energy into not being myself all the time. i have for a long time, with various people. it was exhausting. and just to put (what i thought were) the most insignificant worries out there: i'm worried that you'll disappear; i don't want to appear needy so i'm holding myself back; i'm worried i love you more than you love me and have them considered and responded to, kindly, by the person i was scared to admit them to - was incredibly, incredibly, incredibly validating.

because when you think of it, even the smallest of concerns can weigh a lot if they're allowed to pile up.

so yesterday was good. very good. i missed my first two classes, but made my prose workshop; there was the most stunning - STUNNING - full moon out, lighting my way home from the bus (i looked up at one point and saw a woman's face in it); i can honestly say that i felt grounded for the first time in a looooong time.

it's not quite over yet. i still feel a few whispers of anxiety right now, but i think it could be because of the work i have to do to catch up in my life. but that is so secondary.

two for the price of one

there was a man who came into the store yesterday who i cannot stop thinking about. he had this large portwine birthmark covering the left side of his face.

he was tall but kept his head bent. and right away my heart just ached for him. whenever i see people with a visible 'impairment' (wrong word, but whatever) it's like they just tunnel into the softest part of my heart.

my c.p. is mild. i've spent enough time with it, and learned to compensate enough with my good side that it is rarely noticeable, at first. when i was a kid, though, it was a different story. there are all these pictures of me holding my left arm against my side as though it was a broken wing, but at the same time, i hadn't learned enough to be self-conscious about it - that was the most natural position for it to be in.

but kids can be cruel. they never teased me about my disability (not that i can remember, anyways) - that was off-limits, but my thick glasses, shyness, and awkwardness were all fair game. by the end of grade school i just wanted to be like everybody else.

i saw that in the man who came into the store yesterday. right away something in me needed to connect with him, needed him to see that i saw the birthmark, accepted it, and treated him normally, but he couldn't look into my eyes. he brought his milk to the counter, and i did all the normal things a cashier does, and his eyes darted to my face, then down, to the side, back up.

and my heart just broke. i saw the young boy he must have been, at the corner of the playground, before he knew that there was something 'wrong' with him. looking at the other kids with such hope and eagerness and laughter. and getting that hope and eagerness punished out of him. getting laughed at. maybe a girl refused to go on a date with him. kids probably refused to be friends with him because it was 'social suicide'. so he learned; he learned not to look anybody in the eye, because then he wouldn't have to witness people's rejection of him.

in the glimpses i got of him, through his eyes, i saw someone incredibly sensitive. his eyes were brown and soft. and incredibly, incredibly apologetic. and that made me angry. angry that someone would be taught that he needed to apologize for something as literally superficial as a birthmark. angry that someone's self worth was damaged that much for something that shallow.

it started me thinking. about the stories we all own - the stories that make us who we are, that shape, colour, and shade us in. the stories that give us flesh and shadow. each of us has one - that's the fascinating part to me. the grumpy old woman at the bus stop, the cashier at the supermarket, the housewife, the 3m businessman, the lawyer, the homeless person - some people's are easier to guess at, but every one has a his/herstory that needs to be given space, that needs to be honoured.

(thanks very much to kerry...i was thinking about writing this post and then her post absolutely convinced me i should. she is truly inspirational, and if you haven't, you should visit her.)

how to survive fourth year without ever writing a paper

...because that's apparently what i'm doing. i've read both the damn plays, twice, i have an outline and a thesis in my head, i'm even somewhat interested in the topic (which for shakespeare says a lot). and....nothing. i'm tied in knots because this will be the first paper i'll have written this year. and right after this one i have a paper worth 75% of my final grade due in a week. (it's worth that much due to similar, bee's-losing-her-mind circumstances, when the prof graciously waived the assignment i simply couldn't write.)

university is fun, because even though you need time off, you just don't get it. ever.

it's also really hard for me because i invest a lot of my self-worth into being a good student. and when i'm exhausted all the time and stressed out about money and making sure i eat well - there's not a lot of psychic energy left over. i'm finding myself wanting to be a good student - but being really lazy about it because when i get home - all i want to do is eat something pre-made before my eyes close.

i'm just kicking my own ass a variety of different ways, i guess. which apparently isn't working.

i've been having all sorts of discomfiting dreams. dreams that feel like they're happening in real life, but haven't. lots have been about the yukon, because before banane left she stuck up all these photos of from when i visited her there. (i actually camped on the shoreline of that lake in the photo. the yukon is, quite simply, the most spiritually gorgeous and riveting place i have ever been to.)

some have been about met. (quelle surprise) - dreams where my insecurity has been coming to light in some extremely unflattering ways.

dreams about bloggers.

so today it feels like my head is tied up in knots. i'm trying to pull one end, but it's resisting, and curling back up into its snarl.

met just told me that i have to figure out why i'm blocking myself - i guess, my fears of abandonment are the biggest and the most deeply rooted, so why i'm not able to let those go - and then let it go.

i'm interested in knowing if anybody has had any success with this? because what i'm trying just isn't working...but maybe it's just that i'm trying...

desiderata

edited to add: i didn't write this poem...what i meant by publish was on the blog...it was found in a church in 1692. author unknown...

i published this poem a while ago, but i've been staring at it on the wall at work for 3 days now and it speaks to me so much that i thought i would publish it again.

Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

the key

i don't know what happened but yesterday, around the time that we were closing the store, i noticed something. my anxiety was completely gone. in its place was space within my body, space that i didn't have to break into with explosive deep breathing, but just...space. for me. that i inhabited, easily. i walked home in the dark, thinking, (actually, i was having one of those in-my-head conversations with met, about how even though he's stressed out and i'm stressed out that our relationship needs more face-time than once every two weeks, which is how it's working out at the moment), let myself in through the door, and -

"how are you?"
he was in my kitchen.

i was quite flabbergasted. simply because he normally is VERY good (and i mean, extraordinarily) at reading what i need at any given moment, but lately he just hasn't had enough time, or space of his own. and it was like a fucking gift from the universe, to have him there. i just sort of looked at him and was like, "do you want the real answer? or the one i would give you if i had more time to prepare?"
and he just...folded me into his arms and this time it wasn't just a quick, "here are flowers, i love you" hug, it lasted. and lasted. and that hug gave me all sorts of information that i was wondering about, or insecure over. that hug told me that he is finally starting to understand how hard it was for me, these past few months, (i say finally starting to because i never gave him a chance before, and then he was taken by surprise last week - and he REALLY HATES being taken by surprise), and that he knows what i need to get better, and he is going to be here, as much as he can.

so, for ten minutes, which sounds ridiculously small but it felt so long and so good, we just...hugged. shared our days. joked. drank juice. teased the cat. and right now thinking about it i have these little tears of thankfulness pricking my eyes.

i know that there are lots of people that i can be getting hugs from, right now. enough people have expressed their concern and support in the last week that i know i could be like, "now?" and they would come. but the truth of the matter is, in some deeper sense, i can only allow certain people through. i only feel...safe...with one other person. (i'd actually feel safe with a lot of my blogging buddies, but you guys are in portland, england, california, kentucky, minnesota...texas....how am i going to get you all here?) which makes this crazy healing process so much more difficult.

but i've been having break-throughs. (right now, just for informational purposes, i am feeling a bit anxious. just to be truthful. but i think i can breathe through it.)
these are some:

• i hugged myself yesterday morning, at the back of the store. felt kind of silly, but the second i put my own skinny arms around my own skinny shoulders i felt better. so i made myself stay with it. and relax into the pocket of warmth that my own body made.
• art is distracting me. which is GOOD. right now, because of the blasted shakespeare essay, i don't have time to do art (taking pictures. collaging. getting messy with crayons/pastels/glue/photos) but it's a direct way IN to my pain (i kept my hospital bracelet for a reason, i'm going to collage the fuck out of it) and it feels good. i'm not THINKING, or OVERANALYZING, but i'm not denying, either.
• i have a date for next thursday. (i wanted it. i asked for it. i got it.)
• explaining my birthday to a co-worker yesterday got a bit tricky. i didn't want to lie about my week (insane slide into the darkest depression i have been through in years, ending in hospitalization etc., etc.) because that would be exacerbating the problem - i always have problems being myself. no more - but i didn't want to tell him exactly what had happened. so i said, "my birthday has given me a lot of lessons, already." and he (this co-worker? i just love him. he's a sweet soul, which made me want to share) asked me, "oh, can i ask what?" and i took a deep breath, and said, (thinking: i knew you were going to ask that, oh, fuck) "that life just can't be taken for granted." and that's true. that is something i've learned. because the world is going to let me end up in a psych ward if i want to (i'm NOT saying that that's a bad thing, but i'm saying that for me when i was there there was this numb voice telling me that i was allowing this to happen), and it is going to let me gloss over the wonderful things that have also been happening this week (outpouring of support), and it is. it just will let me take whatever i want to from life. and i'm not saying that i won't ever slide back. i'm not saying i'm done yet with this cycle of depression. but, my god. life is beautiful. it hurts a lot and it sucks a lot but....it's beautiful just the same.

oh, there was something else. i said a while ago that this was the birthday i needed to have. and it's true. i was NOT okay. i didn't realize how much i was hanging by a thread, but holy fuck, was i ever. this birthday hopefully set me on the path to realizing what it is that *i* need. helping me learn to ask for what *i* want, and not thinking that it's selfish. it's helping me establish boundaries.

not out of the woods yet, my dear dear friends. but seeing the light. i have the key to unlock the door when i get to the end, i think.

(hee. now i have exactly 5 minutes to get dressed, get out the door, and unlock the door to work. oh, god.)

the painting is "the key" by jackson pollock. i found it here.

meme (for the real post, skip down one)

...okay. deb r is fabulous with the early saturday morning memes (kind of like cartoons. and if you want to laugh, go visit. she's HI-larious.) and if you want to read my post of what i'm actually feeling, it's here, but i really wanted to distract myself a bit. so, i tagged myself to do her meme, and here we go.

Someone knocks on your door at 2am, who do you want it to be?...met has keys to my apartment. i've often thought i'd love to be sleeping and have him crawl in next to me, but that hasn't happened yet. but i don't want anybody to be knocking.

Your boss tells you he/she will give you a $20 raise if you'll do your job naked. Do you stay and take the raise? ooh. because i don't really consider my "job" to be a "job", it's "work". my "job" is what i'm training myself to do through school - ie: write. so if somebody wanted to pay me $20 an hour to write naked in my apartment, why - hells yes! but no, i wouldn't work cash at a grocery store naked. thanka you very much.

Put yourself in a nutshell. met's fatally allergic to nuts. so, no.

Ever see a ghost? yes. many. but not since i was 13 or so.

Happy with your body? erm. you know, i guess so. most of the time i'm happy with it. i like that i'm naturally slender. it only bothers me when people ask me why i walk "that way" (it happened yesterday. it happens lots.) or when it's raining a lot, because rain makes it hurt.

A reason to move to Iceland. bjork!!! (if you want to picture how excitedly i did that, pronounce it: buh-JORK) who apparently still parties in reykjavik....and the gorgeous scenery.

A place you've lived that you miss. i miss all the people in ottawa, but i don't miss the town per se. at all. i don't see myself living there again, and i'm quite happy about that.

A job you'd never do, no matter how much you were paid. you know, i don't think i could do mortician. at ALL.

A band/group you thought was cool when you were 13. okay. when i was 13, i literally BOUGHT TICKETS FOR ME AND MY BEST FRIEND to go and see michael bolton. that's how fucking geeky i was. that, and queen.

You have a nightmare, who's the first person you think to call? i'd think to call my boyfriend, but i wouldn't. i'd just sort of lie there and hope to get back to sleep.

Wanna have kids before you're 30? let's concentrate on the getting married first. i'm with the man i hope to be married to, but i have some "stuff" to figure out first.

A memory from high school. smoking a kools cigarette that had been laced with lysol disinfectant spray, so promptly going to the girls' basement bathroom and puking my guts out.

Ever had a crush on a friend's parent? no. and, can i just say....EW.

Do you look more like your mom or dad? i look, and act, like my mother. down to the "self-sacrificing/please guess what i want" mentality.

Something you've always wanted to learn to do. become a yoga instructor with a specialization in helping people with able-bodied issues.

How you'd like your life to be in 10 years. deb had a pretty good answer for this one, which i echo. other than that, i'd like to be married, with children, and a book on the way.

Something you learned this year. that living your TRUE life is a million times scarier than living the safe one.

What do you want for your birthday? i want to have a fake birthday to replace the one that took place last sunday. thank you very much. i think it should be outlawed to cry that much on one's birthday.

Name 4 things you did yesterday.
1. i worked in the morning, from 9-3.
2. i did all my errands, including going back to the psych ward. eep.
3. i took a picture of the moon from on top of a mountain.
4. i had blueberry pie.

Last item you bought yourself? my first magnetic poetry kit!! i've been dying for one for so long and always thought it was an extravagance. but it was my birthday present to myself.

What did you have for breakfast? black coffee. juice. my pill.

Name a celeb you crush on. johnny depp. (shiver). ani difranco.

Name the last 3 songs you heard. easily. please forgive me, silver lining, and sail away from the most heart-breakingly perfect album right now, david gray's white ladder.

How many hours of sleep do you get each night? right now...about 10. (erm.) but i'm recuperating a bit.

What do you wish you were doing right now? not going to work in an hour and half...does that count?

Who's the first person in your phone book on your cell? don't have a cell, but the first person in my memory on my landline is met's cell.

Last time you witnessed a fight? last night. walking home from the shuttle, on my street. there was a man getting into a physical fight with a woman, in front of a child. it got broken up, though.
other than that - just argument? my own. :( :( :(

Name 3 places you'd like to travel to.
1. london england.
2. korea.
3. greece.

Do you know how to ice skate? yes. but i don't really know how to stop, or skate WELL, for that matter.

Name something you like that's out of the ordinary. um. lots of stuff.

Is bigger really better? that totally depends. i have to agree with deb on this one.

What do you think of Brad Pitt? he's pretty, but he ain't no johnny.

What color are your toenails? purple!

Do you own anything with a skull on it? no.

Traveled to Europe? yes. but i want to go back.

Last movie you watched? at the theatre - "a scanner darkly". On DVD - "about a boy" (although i have "the libertine" lined up and ready to go!)

Where were you when you had your first kiss? outside of a school bus at a water park.

Last board game you played? yu-gi-oh. (is that a board game?)

Leather or lace? leather boots. lace clothing.

Ever had a black eye? yup. the first was when i was born. i came out jaundiced with a black eye.

Have you ever worn fishnet stockings? yes. they make me feel sexy.

fear. yoga. hugs.

"i must say a word about fear. it is life's only true opponent. only fear can defeat life. it is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well i know. it has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. it goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease. it begins in your mind, always. one moment you are feeling calm, self-possessed, happy. then fear, disguised in the garb of mild-mannered doubt, slips into your mind like a spy. doubt meets disbelief and disbelief tries to push it out. but disbelief is a poorly armed foot soldier. doubt does away with it with little trouble. you become anxious. reason comes to do battle for you. you are reassured. reason is fully equipped with the latest weapons technology. but, to your amazement, despite superior tactics and a number of undeniable victories, reason is laid low. you feel yourself weakening, wavering. your anxiety becomes dread.

fear next turns fully to your body, which is already aware that something terribly wrong is going on. already your lungs have flown away like a bird and your guts have slithered away like a snake. now your tongue drops dead like an opossum, while your jaw begins to gallop on the spot. your muscles begin to shiver as if they have malaria and your knees to shake as though they were dancing. your heart strains too hard, while your sphincter relaxes too much. and so with the rest of your body. every part of you, in the manner most suited to it, falls apart. only your eyes work well. they always pay proper attention to fear.

quickly you make rash decisions. you dismiss your last allies: hope and trust. there, you've defeated yourself. fear, which is but an impression, has triumphed over you.

the matter is difficult to put into words. for fear, real fear, such as shakes you to your very foundations, such as you feel when you are brought face to face with your mortal end, nestles in your memory like a gangrene: it seeks to rot everything, even the words with which to speak of it. so you must fight hard to express it. you must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. because if you don't, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you."

-yann martel; "life of pi"

(quote that has really encapsulated my mood as of late)

yesterday, my anxiety never really went away. it built and built, but never summited into a full-fledged panic attack, which would have almost been a relief. work was hard. my boss was in a bad mood; when she gets in a bad mood she herself is anxious, she paces back and forth, she snaps when she doesn't mean to - and i was so rubbed raw from the past week that i had to disengage, sometimes, to not lose control completely. take deep breaths. drink lots of water. i had this moment of connection with her though. she turned to me at one point and said, "you know, i don't make very good coffee, so i'm not going to offer you any of what i make." and i looked at her and said, "do you want me to make you a coffee?" and she looked like she was going to cry and said, "yes." so i told her, "you know, if you ever want me to make coffee for you, you can just ask. i won't be offended." and she thanked me. later, i was re-organizing one of the freezers for her, and i drew up a sign for the other staff members so that everyone would be aware of the changes i made, and she grabbed me and kissed me when i was finished, saying "finally! someone is helping me!"

her bad mood cleared after that, and it made me realize, how overwhelmed and alone and frustrated she must have felt...how like me. she's not the easiest person in the world to help, (neither am i), but it's worth it.

i'm now at the point where i feel like i should talk about something else other than my struggle with what's going on, because i feel like this is getting to be depression-central around here, and i don't want to scare people off. but that would be dishonouring the commitment i made, and it is my usual defense mechanism - back off. change the subject. leave town. so i'm going to try and stick with it.

the physical sides of my anxiety are hard to cope with, at the moment. vibrating hands. accelerated heartbeat. i don't know if anybody else has stood at the top of a cliff and watched the earth crumble off and fall into the ravine - but that's what the inside of my body feels like, from the tip of my rib cage spreading through my belly. i've been trying to deal with it - yesterday i meditated for the first time in forever. i'm sure i only lasted for about five minutes, but i want to try it again. making yoga a part of my home practice, instead of just trying to hit the studio every week. i'm tired of feeling this way, both emotionally and physically. it's just too much, and once i'm here...in this state...i can't stop it, slow it down, change it. i'm just here.

i also feel out on a limb. (i just tried to go back and hunt for the post where i talked about needing lots of love, i can't find it.) there's a part of me that felt the wonderful comments and phone calls and emails from you guys. there's a part of me that felt met telling me he loved me when he dropped off the flowers, when he told me that i was incredible, when he called and left a message for me yesterday to check in. but last night...i got home late from those errands and called him - left him a message. started falling asleep early, so i took a nap, then realized the nap was going to turn into an all-nighter, so i left him another message.

...then i left him another one, because i had all these feelings building up in me and i needed to get rid of them. basically about how i missed him, because it feels like we haven't spent any time together since the day before my birthday. which, in itself, isn't that long. but i need physical reassurance a lot, i'm realizing. i also told him how i still feel uncomfortable telling him that i love him and that i miss him...for all the reasons that i've actually spoken about here (the questioning, the distance). anyway. he hasn't got back to me yet, so i'm freaking out. there's the limb.

see, i know he's a wonderful man. he just is. he tries his fucking hardest for the people he loves and he leaves himself last every single day. i love him to death for that. i know he wouldn't "do me wrong"...at least, in my head i do. my heart is preparing. it's always preparing. to be hurt, to be rejected, to be left alone. i really want to stop that. i want to trust my boyfriend, my partner, who has done nothing to deserve my mistrust. and from there, i want to trust the world again.

i read 37 days all the time. (i would link to it, but my links are screwed up - have been since i moved here). and a while ago, patti wrote an incredible post which i related to IMMENSELY about the healing power of touch. read it here, if you'd like, if you haven't already. (but be prepared, if this is your first visit to 37 days, you will probably be. sucked. in.)

...it just got me to thinking, due to the satir quote at the top, that i hug people (actually, one. i hug met) maybe...once every two days. and that's only fleeting. when met asked me if he could come over the day before yesterday to give me a hug, he really meant just that - five minutes, no more. if people need 4 a day just for survival, where the hell does that place me on the continuum?

hmmmm.

it will be ok. love, me.

mornings are a bit hard. i've been letting myself get the sleep that i need (lots) so i wake up early...sun shining through the golden leaves of the tree that my window frames, a heavy cat spooning me and purring, and that aching mouth inside of me.

i think i'm worried because today, beyond other things, my life has to get back on track. i have to go to work, go back to the hospital to pick up my note for school, pay my tuition, and come home and start work on a paper that is due on monday. ugh. i wish sometimes there was a button i could push on my life to pause it while i went around at my own speed, catching up.

one of the realizations that i have made in the past few days is that i have a little too much on my plate right now - a lot of it is going to have to go. i'm going to decide what soon.

yesterday was a nice day. it's been sunny, and i went for a walk to a starbucks to meet with a counsellor. she's young and we got hot chocolate and talked for an hour. she wants me to live in the group home that the organization has set up in the area, but respected my refusal - i want my own space. my own space seems intrinsic to this healing.

i got home after doing a little bit of shopping and met checked in with me. we talked for a while: about what's going on with me, with him, with our relationship - which i guess is a lot stronger than my insecurity has been leading me to believe. his "questioning of the relationship" stems from his belief that blind faith in something is a lot more fickle than something that he has concrete answers for. the distance that he asked for is, in essence, space so that he doesn't get completely overwhelmed.

i said that the "questioning" scared me, because "well, i guess because i don't really like myself all that much, and i'm afraid that you won't like the real me either."

he said: "bee, i know, but you're one of the most incredible women i've ever met. it's okay."

he asked if he could come over to give me a hug, i said yes...and he brought me flowers. it's the first time anybody's brought me flowers before - they're huge. and beautiful. i put them on my kitchen table and the whole entrance way smells like them. i felt like a princess. i wish i knew what kinds they are, but i'm only good enough to identify the white rose and the orange tulip.

...the anxiety's building a little bit right now. i think because i felt the words, i felt like a princess, and then that voice piped in, he only brought you flowers because you got sick and tried to take that feeling away. but i really felt like one. special. and that's a strange, new feeling.

i wanted to thank you all, for reading and commenting. i appreciate all your support, so very very much, and it means the world to me.

happy belated birthday, beautiful girl

...even if you may not believe it sometimes, you ARE.

love you

just call me bee, interrupted

i want to make a commitment to myself. to write here every day for the month of november, and write about what i need to. to not erase things because i'm worried about how it will come across. to be unflinchingly, gently honest with myself because it is so hard for me, and see, in one month, where i am. where my healing is.

i am scared.

yesterday i went to the crisis appointment with my therapist that met made me promise to make. it was hard. i don't like crying in front of people, but lately crying's all i seem to be able to do, so that was in essence my hour. i cried about how alone i feel; my absolute F. E. A. R. of abandonment; all the guilt and hurt and anger that the past few days have stirred up.

(as an aside, jen wrote something really poignant about anger. it got me to thinking - a lot of this sadness and anxiety in me is just warped rage.)

at the end of the appointment, my therapist told me that i had to go to the hospital. he asked me if i thought that would be okay, and all i could say is "i want to be safe."

he escorted me to the hospital. at that point the tears had stopped, mostly, and i was just numb. last week i found this small plastic horse on the street and stuffed it into the pocket of my vest, i kept playing with it, hugging my school bag to my chest, thinking about all the work i had to do.

a long, long while later, after the tetanus shot (for the cutting) and the intake and the "this is my story" over and over and over again:
("how many times have you been sexually assaulted?"
"countless."
"well, raped then?"
"three."
"where's your mother?"
"dead."
"where's your father?"
"we don't talk much."
"what about siblings?"
"one. she lives in toronto."
"do you go to school?"
"yes. and i work part-time."
"do you live on your own?"
"yes."
"do you have many friends here?"
"sort of. not really."
"so in essence you're telling us that you've been critically stressed for months. with no support system."
"i guess so.")

the doctors told me that if it was alright with me, that they didn't think i should be released and i should stay with them overnight.
fluorescently lit room. fluorescently lit hall. people in blue pajamas and blue paper slippers. a nice, hippie nurse with waist-length hair who brought me chicken, mashed potatoes, and soup.

i called met. he had sent me an email the night before saying that he wanted me to talk to him if anything was going on, and i figured this qualified. i figured this would be one of the times he was talking about, when he got upset that i didn't tell him what was going on. even though i didn't want to. even though, literally, the thing that flashed through my head was, "will he ever be attracted to me again?"

at first he didn't recognize my voice. once i told him it was me, he asked me where i was.
"the hospital."
"um. what?"
"yeah."

he wanted to come over right away. i said i wasn't sure i wanted him to. he asked me why, i told him that i thought it would confuse my heart too much. that right now, the word "distance" is hard for me to interpret.
he said, "just because i'm questioning the relationship doesn't mean i'm leaving it."
which simultaneously made me feel better, and confused me even more.

so once they gave me a bed i lay there for a while. i wrote a poem that i believe i'm going to call "hospital suite", i read some of life of pi for a book report, i ate dinner. i thought and thought and thought.

this is some of what i thought: okay. you are now in the emergency room, psychiatric division. do you think you can slow down now?

the world is going to allow you to be as fucked up as you want to be, or as healed as you want to be. pick healed, goddamn it.

you are worth it. you are. you are worth love. even if this just feels empty right now, you have GOT to believe it.

then the room got too small. airless, windowless, white painted room with a tired old woman sleeping on the other bed, my skin smelling like hospital. too hot, i couldn't breathe. i thought of what met had said to me, as we were getting off the phone, "i know you don't want to be there, but they will take good care of you." but i felt peace, at that moment.

so i checked myself out. the night air felt so fresh on my hot skin. the moon was almost full and guided me to the shuttle stop through the snarl of city buildings. the maple trees, those with leaves still on them, shone golden through the streetlights. beautiful.

i rode back to my neighbourhood on the bus. i walked home and tried not to think. i curled up on my couch and watched a movie. i talked to met. i turned off the phone and went to sleep by 9.

i'm wondering why i blogged about something that yesterday i asked met to keep between us.
the answer is pretty simple, actually. this is my journey. some of it is uncomfortable to write about, to think about, to be in - i have no doubt that it is uncomfortable to read.
but until i become relaxed about being honest about who i am, i have to do this. not to push myself or be sensational, but just to let everything go, and trust the universe.

i still feel the prickles of ice. it's still hard to breathe. i still have this feeling that i'm standing on the cusp of something, on the one hand going to lose everything i have worked for, on the other being able to keep it. but i'm going to fight.

because i want to be healed.

all saint's day is the day of the dead

i didn't realize it was getting so bad. i honestly really didn't. i thought i could handle everything - the full courseload, working part-time, both kinds of therapy and the emotional repercussions, the sexual assault, the flashbacks.

i got up and wrote every morning with my coffee, then i went to school and talked to people, then i put my headphones on and waited for the bus. day after day. sometimes met and i watched movies, sometimes i talked to my friends on the phone.

i didn't realize how much i was dying. i don't mean to be melodramatic, but that's a lot for anyone to handle, and i was doing it basically alone, shunning help, shunning support.

oh, i'm fine. i get down from time to time, but i always bounce back up. you know me. i'll just drink the tea and take my pill and get some rest. it'll be better in the morning.

it's hard for me. to be honest, i tend to need the most support from my partner - always have. there's this part of me that yearned for the "couple against the world" thing. right now met has quite enough on his plate, and even though he is the most supportive man in the universe, there's been this part in me refusing to ask him for help. refusing to let him know that i needed him, how i needed him.

well, he says that it's the asking that counts, not the getting, but right now i literally think it would kill me to ask for something i thought i truly, truly needed and not get it.

i'm finding myself instinctively putting up walls. he wants me to confide in him, to feel comfortable doing so - but i can't. not knowing that he wants distance. i mean, i'm going to try and figure out how, because this is the most important relationship of my life and this tendency of mine is what's killing it - but it's so hard. opening up, keeping open, when it already hurts so much, even though being open might not fix things.

i just...wanted a birthday, where i didn't have to ask people to make a fuss over me. it's so funny that i'm here, 3 days later, still crying into my coffee, wondering how it all went wrong.

my sister told me a beautiful story this weekend - how she was hiking in jackson park a few weeks ago and sat by the river for a while - something told her to be still. a flash of light caught her eye and she looked up, to find a white wooden heart hung from a tree. she knew that it was mom, and in that instant became comfortable with letting mom in, as someone who has died, rather than the aching memory of someone who had once lived.

i think back to my 17-year-old self, that sassy, loud-laughing, chain-smoking teenager who wrote poetry about sex on scraps of paper and listened to the doors late at night because jim morrison was the only person who truly got her. she wanted to be a writer, she wanted to be in love with every fibre of her whole being. she was full of this tender, green confidence - in the universe, in her place in it.

this was before. there is such a gulf between before and after. a gulf that took place in an instant (september 8, sunset, mother swollen and unconscious. moaning in pain. death rattle breathing. getting slower. and slower. each of us in the room waiting, praying for each breath, until five minutes passed and her strained face had turned waxen) but before that, too, when cancer just split us open. like rotten fruit. sweet and gathering flies.

i wonder who i would have been if she had lived - if i would have been the girl in the black power suit, or if i would still be this version. there's something there. i was this sensitive before, yes. i remember having anxiety attacks before she died, but would things have been different? could i have corralled the depression?

rhetorical questions are fun to try and answer before 10 am.

i wish i could go back to that 17-year old. tell her to hold tightly to the leaves of her new confidence, to not be so brazen with it, that it will take awareness and attention to keep. i wish i could tell her that she will find what she wants - someone that she loves with every fibre of her being, who loves her back, she will be a published writer - but that it won't solve her problems. that she must hold onto her confidence and turn inwards, and keep looking inwards until everything settles.

until the pain goes away. because if she doesn't, it will become cancerous, and eat her alive.