Picking up what remains

As a prairie fire, you've torn through all the safeguards I had in place and you threaten to jump the fireline I burned in my own flesh to keep from going up in flames again. There are currently moments when all I want to do is scare you off, wave the flames in front of your face so you startle and dash back to the place from where you crept so many nights ago. I wake up drenched, not with rain but with the sweat and anxiety of uncertainty, my mind changing frames faster than a movie playing in perpetual fast-forward. And I sit, paralyzed, wondering if I have the courage to take back what I feel is being stealthily stolen from me as I sleep.

Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding. But at my door you remain. And the fire burns on. And there's still no relief... no rain.

T

The walk away

It's 3am, the sky is black
But baby, I ain't sleepin'
All my strength ain't strong enough
To keep away this dreamin'
Every time I close my eyes
My mind just keeps on racin'
And I'm wonderin' if I have the strength
To fight against what I'm feelin

I need to walk away, run away
And leave it all behind
I need to walk away, fly away

You tell me sorry, that it ain't you
And tomorrow's a better day
But there's just too much on the line
The price is too high to pay
So pick your side and show your hand
Your bed is where you'll lay
'Cause if you've shown me everything
There's nothing left to say

Only the walk away, this walk away
There's nothing else to do
I need to walk away.
I need to walk away.

T

Lamplight

It's another evening in the lamplight, listening to the frozen rain lightly click and tap against the window glass. It covered my jacket just a few minutes ago, but now slowly drips to the floor in minute lakes that will be gone by the time the morning comes. No light reaches that part of the floor by the shoe rack, so they dry in silence. The weekend has found me full of contemplation as one nearby has been forced to acknowledge a whole world of emotion that she's been burying for years. Both of us are wondering how to proceed. 

When confronted with death, no matter what the scenario, it's hard to avoid looking inward. In her case, she was hit with it as if being hit directly in the chest with an avalanche. I can only assume that she's feeling the equivalent of a suffocating pressure as she considers what to feel, what to do, what's expected of her. The irony lies in the answers to her anxiety... the expectations are meaningless, the decisions will come with time, and the feelings are no more than what courses through our veins. We can't always choose how we feel, but we always have control over how we react.

While's she's confronting questions of mortality and reconciliation, I once again consider what's passed... I consider the power of a face-down photo in the far reaches of an ill-used room here and how it's discovery can manipulate perspective. I consider the power of my words and my deeds as we near the holiday season. And I think about those who are with me now and those who lie in bed an ocean away. I wonder about will come in future days... months... years. I think about how simple life used to seem and how I felt that if I could only get a hold of one given aspect of life, that it'd all make sense. Strange how fleeting that control and understanding ends up being (that is until it's too late, of course).

I wonder about humanity, both mine and that of others. I wonder about my place in this community and the bigger community of my life. And I'm continually regarding my own needs (and neediness) with curiosity.

As the rain continues to tap away, I attempt to roll away to sleep. Let words be my balm to soothe my sleep.

T

On the inside

Crawl deep down inside yourself
It's safer to be alone
Curl up real tight and hide for a while
Ignore all that light you're shown
Shut out the world and cradle the pain
It's taken you this far
The only hitch is that you forgot
Exactly who you are

T

Butterflies

It's like I'm living on the cusp of a shadow
Or on a cliff over a cloud
Impossible to see what's immediately below me
A butterfly tempts me to step off
Take flight

The thought in my head 
Is "Stay back from the sun, my boy,
It's no place for you
And your wax-fixed wings"
So I stall
And ponder

I wonder if the beauty
Is merely fleeting
And what that winged beast holds for me
So I stay

There was another butterfly long ago
Who convinced me to fly
And only after I let go
After I jumped
Did I drown

Or so it seemed

But as I pen these words
I realize
That it was that moment
Where I finally learned to swim

T

An old poem...

I believe I wrote this either during my teaching practicum or while I was living my old life...

The world from the sidelines

Who's on the sidelines when the world is at war?
Who speaks of justice as you walk out the door
On your way to your job or your kid or your car
When bombs are destroying our world from afar?
There are innocent victims who die everyday
While kids are in morgues when they just wanted to play
In the street near their home with a ball and a friend
How can we justify such tragic ends?

But we only hears cracks that resemble the whisper
Of the wind in the trees or the door on the crisper
We retreat to our 'burbs with our kids and our car
Dreaming big dreams while guns fire from afar.
We have all ten fingers, our toes are in tact
And we're free from most harms and the fear of attacks.
We look to our flag and most constantly we say
Freedom is here… that's all far away.

When you hear a small crack that resembles a breath
It's easy to ignore and to think not of death
But when guns come so close and you're crying with fear
You'll realize it's not far, but the violence is near.
We cannot retreat when we open our eyes
The world's a train wreck, even something to despise.
But that's not a reason to shut it all out
In the defense of injustice, we beg you to shout.

T

Dawn to dusk

Today brought another day full of thoughts
About those loves that never were
Filling up pages in a book
But as if they were dreams
Faded and lost as the morning rolls on
Or cut out
Like pictures chopped from magazines
For a high school collage project
The remnants abandoned
Upon the art room floor
And the words are cut into unintelligible pieces
Never to be reconciled again with language
Or the messages they carried

Now as the day rolls into darkness
I think about the world being a new dream
One that won't fade into obscurity
Or be carelessly abandoned to the dust pile
In a corner

No
It will hold on
Find roots
And grow

T

"When"... bad days

The morn began with sunlight
But faded quickly as the sand-filled skies
Seeped in past my windows 
And my mind
Quiet and sombre
Like a funeral procession

One fiery tongue was made known
Presenting itself in the waning morning hours
And then another
And even more still
Until the day filled up
With the bitter taste of battery acid
And only 
Escape 
Could soothe the burns remaining
And act as the salve to take the pain away.

When the morning tastes
Like the blade of a scythe
The only release is the death of the day
Found in the starlit darkness of night.

Here I sit in the quiet

When the day has found it's end.

T

A day

"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori" is the ironic reference/inscription in the famous poem by Wilfred Owen. Sharing a moment of silence with my students who didn't understand the day but could understand the concept was a special experience. However, their connection with November 11th is much different. In the meantime...

Lest we forget.

T

Marks

I'm in a perpetual state of saying hello
And then immediately saying goodbye
Packing boxes and sending them abroad
Stepping foot in new, unfamiliar lands
Taking a photo
Then walking off toward the horizon

I smile, shake hands
And disappear in the distance

I wonder if, in my experiences with others,
If I tread lightly
Barely disturbing the slight film of dust
On the souls of my friends
Or exist as a breeze
Which barely caresses an ear or cheek

I want to leave a real mark
Stamp my initials on their hearts
With an iron brand
Or carve our story upon their flesh
Like a declaration of love
Upon an oak tree

I want the scar I leave to be cherished
And recalled for decades to come
Never to be mourned
Because I want people to know
That in those moments
We lived.

T

No skies

I walked out into the world today
And noticed that there was no colour
Above my head
No sun, no hint of blue

Just canvas
And a pail of oils at my feet

There was a note alongside 
That little bucket of paints
Telling me
That it was time for me to paint the sky
And colour in everything
That hid behind my eyes

T

Another post of random bits and thoughts

A few of my own...

All things fiction are borne of reality and live as sparks in a man's heart before they find life in ink and parchment, whether presented in the realistic, fantastic, or mythic.

Some believe that mistakes cut deep and they may do their best to avoid them... but this is true only insofar as the chisel cuts deep through stone to reveal the form hiding therein. Should the sculptor avoid swinging his mallet toward the rock?

And a few quotes from Anais Nin:

"The preoccupation of the novelist: how to capture the living moments, was answered by the diary. You write while you are alive. You do not preserve them in alcohol until the moment you are ready to write about them."

"The final lesson a writer learns is that everything can nourish the writer. The dictionary, a new word, a voyage, an encounter, a talk on the street, a book, a phrase learned."

T

Goodnight.

I'm bidding my city a sort of quiet goodnight tonight, watching the rain pour down over the tile and concrete and glass that surrounds me; I battled through what can only be described as a bout of bitter melancholy today. It was only a day, as I hope for better things to come tomorrow. But the sort of angry, nearly metallic taste still lingers as if on my and makes me dread tomorrow's alarm. It came so quickly today, and I know tomorrow won't be much different. But maybe my dreams will be sweet instead of morose, and my head will rise in contentment instead of jaded frustration. Things pile. And collect. And sometimes you can actually feel their weight. Like a foot on your throat. I felt this today. The weight. And it's of my own making. The only solution: to unmake it. Tomorrow, there's a plan. End.

T

Question-based ramblings...

Just a warning... this is more just an indulgence in streaming the nonsensical things from my brain into print... I haven't thought them through enough to know if they make sense...

***

Why does it feel, so often, like we're examples of mutual exclusion? This one or that one, but never both...

And why does a public expression seem to make for a heretical declaration? 

How can a toe in the water make such a wonderful drowning?

What need have we for buoys when gills line our sides?

And what of sunlight when we can see so well under stars and moonlight?

- T

New looks

Thought I'd try out a new template. I've had the same black background for years now, so I thought it was time for an upgrade. Let me know what you think.

T

Coming down

A journal entry shortly after returning home from my holiday in Shanghai...

***

I'm sitting inside my stillness with pianos and guitars swimming around my ears. I can taste the silence of winter in the night air and for the first time this year I notice how abruptly the sun has run away from the afternoon. It's that silence of a quiet November walk on the west coast in the air, though this Far East home of mine has barely slipped past the advent of Mid-Autumn Festival. Quiet, solo nights lie ahead. Maybe I'll cram them full of chatter and TV and words, and although I can find comfort inside the company of others, I keep my phone silent and ignore the footsteps which may patter outside my door. Night's here... my night, and it's one of those times where home is here while remaining thousands of miles beyond the horizon.

I've been here countless times before, as if standing at the door of my childhood home. But the sense of what awaits me is much different, both cold and friendly, warm and sombre, all at once. I can't decide what colour it evokes... maybe a blue of the wintry moonlit ocean, or of the impossible purple hue in the late stages of a prairie sunset. Maybe it's the translucent black of a clear, starry, moonless midnight. Whatever it is, it remains immense and, while foreboding, is not wholly unwelcome.

I don't bother standing against it, but curl into the corner of the sofa so it can envelope me. I know I'll wake in the morning, possibly in the rays of the sunrise. All that needs to be done is to wait patiently for the warm rise of the early sun in the eastern sky.

T

A very "Invictus" sort of mood for life

I ravage watermelons and mangoes with messy, reckless abandon
and dream of dragonfruit and mangosteens.
I pursue sport and competition as if they were lifeblood
or the nectar of the gods.
I devour novels and poetry as more than mere subsistence
but as if they were the goal of all gluttony.
Robust red wine and seasoned meats and smoked cheeses
are no match for my appetite.
And I run...
I run as if my feet know nothing but constant motion
and without which they fail and wither and abandon me
just as I step out the door.

Split seconds...

... where you make those decisions
that keep you kicking yourself
until the day winds down
and you're stuck there dreaming
about why, oh Georgia, why
and you just ain't missing
the times when you don't have to be
apologizing for your consistent indulgences
in foot-in-mouth disease

Next time just keep your thoughts
to yourself and your own damned cynicism
because you sure aren't makin' any friends
or collecting any bits of karma
strewn aside by those who float on by
on their good luck clouds

Just sleep it off because tomorrow is coming
and you know that by the time you're waking
the world's forgetting and you just need to
keep on going about sticking to your own
business

TM

Another true thing...

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall."

- Confucius

Backpedaling?

I hesitated posting this a few months back (June-ish), mainly because I worried about the fact that the inspiration for it peruses the site from time to time. To my muse to this ramble, I'm sure you'll figure out who you are, but I hope it isn't one of those things that makes a girl dash for the door. I've said that sometimes my pen takes me places I don't always expect to go. But in the spirit of just hanging it all out there, here 'tis. 

***

I've got a belly full of curry

And a brain chock-full of song
I know that I ain't home quite yet
But man, it won't be long

I'm living inside a dreamworld
Exploring far and wide
Where my feet will take me next
My mind just can't decide

The world is just too lustrous
In all it's wide expanse
I know I had to take two steps back
In order to advance

Now that I'm six steps further 'long
I think I've found my feet
It took some time, took too much time
But in the end, I'm finding me.

Now I'm thinking about beautiful eyes 
Staring at me from the recent past
The tropics, I felt them calling me
And I'm wondering why I ever left

I met her in a whirlwind
And left her just the same
I'm land and sea and borders away
Wonderin' if she'll remember my name

I'll always recall that airport kiss
And the late-night full of song
I'm not sure if I'll see her again 
But maybe it'll happen before too long

And maybe it'll never be
We've got lives to live until then
In the meantime I seek new eyes
New words, new dreams, new hands

There ain't no hand clasped to mine tonight
No breath dancing on my cheek
But I've got myself to keep me company
And memories that remain so easily

I'm not living in those rainy days
But I hope she remembers my name

T

Things you may not know and a world of maybe

For recent stories about my life, check out the China blog (www.dimsumseeker.blogspot.com). For now, this is kinda the final poem from the chapter in my life that became closed at the end of July this summer. One final poem about her...

You used to hold poetry in your words
And in your eyes
Even though you never knew it
Or maybe you did but never shared that awareness
With me

And you also didn't know
That you became my muse
In all the struggles we faced
And in the turmoil I could feel
Living underneath your skin

You were my biggest challenge
And my biggest triumph
And for so many of those early months I considered the fact
That maybe I was reaching beyond my world

 As Icarus, you were my sun
And maybe now I am simply plunging into the ocean
If the tale were true

But I'm starting to understand
That such tales are merely dreams of fiction
And not reality
No matter how much welled up inside me
You were not all there was 

A gleaming star for a time, but not the only star in my skies
And maybe I dreamed you to be something else
When I looked at you
Which led to this inevitable fall
Or maybe I'm just getting caught up
In all my romantic tendencies
As an attempt to immortalize our story

The attempt remains fruitless
As we've proved that we were mortal
We lived. We died.

Maybe we embraced excitement and passion
Before we began to live in a banal world
And the appeal I held for you early on
Melted away as I embraced my inner pragmatist
Maybe you fell out of love with me long before I knew I lost you

I used to consider it my biggest failure
That I could not find and give you 
What you truly sought
I was only able to provide
The things you asked for over the years
Thinking they'd be the balm to soothe
All your anxious unhappiness

Still, I knew that all these things
Wouldn't lead the way to happiness
Or satisfaction
Or simple contentment
But that didn't destroy my hope of maybe

Not at that moment, anyway

Since then there has been calm, then storm, then distance
Before resolute calm again
But the most recent torrents marooned us
On islands endlessly distant
So now we call across oceans in meager attempts
To salve what remains

What still exists in my mind is what I remember before
And it's those memories that I'll cling to 
As a way of salvaging what we were.
You are not what's to come, 
But you'll always be that piece of who I used to be.

T

Finding solid ground

I spend a lot of time thinking about the most recent 14 chunks hours in my life, as if in these small clumps of motion and emotion, all truth is to be found in one's character.... where it goes right and where it goes wrong and sometimes just about the fact that it goes. These moments are almost always filled with uncertainty or overwhelming triumphs or curiosities or crushing defeats or questions or frustrations or endless attempts to justify and rationalize and normalize and ratify... to condense, to tease out, to pull it all apart and to piece it all back together.

I'm in that very circle right now, replaying and analyzing the confusion of the past day, and I keep coming up with more questions and keep finding myself confused. This is a pretty common result, and it often ends with me being frustrated and uncertain of myself. Often I come to realize later that I completely overthought everything and I can move on, but sometimes it seems so easy to get tangled in the "why" of such periods of overly-paranoid moments (or moments that stretch into hours and days).

I'm being aloof (as I often am) for a number of reasons. Part of it is to protect my self, but also to maintain anonymity for others. But I just hate these moments of confused self-doubt... they throw me into an introspective and sometimes semi-miserable state and it takes me a little while to snap out of the funk. So many things that simply felt strange took place last night, and there were so many things that just didn't seem to conform to what I was expecting that I've been inside my head all day. In two days, I'm sure these things will be far from my mind (or at least more so than now), but for now, my mind is a big tangle of questions and old urges to try to rectify and justify the confusion... but I know where that road ends and it's not a good place. So, here I stand, attempting to find some solid ground for myself... breaking old habits and figuring out if I have control over the confusion of these nights gone by. Until then, my feet keep moving and I keep running to clear my head.

T

Long days

So, vacationing is a lot more work than I ever expect it to be. It's exhausting and taxing on an emotional sanity level. It's like there's always someone to see or something to do or some form of entertainment that you have to participate in so as to maximize the time. Every moment is filled with people and the off-switch only comes during sleep time, which is typically never long enough. I know I'm the only one to blame, but I am absolutely spent right now. Not even physically... just personally.

I realize that I shouldn't complain, but after 10 days in Vic, 2 in Vancouver, 3 in Kelowna, a week in Lethy followed by another family-filled week in Montana, I'm ready for a nap. A long nap. And maybe my own apartment again. I got pretty used to being social only 2 days a week. Now that I'm on a 4 week stretch of socializing and family time, I'm ready to melt away into nothing. I think I might be a hermit tonight. I have to find a way to save my sanity.

That being said, I've started the countdown to China. I have less than 2 weeks to go before my flight and I still have a bunch of stuff to do. I might just call it quits on a few of the more minor projects, but time will tell. More to come in coming days. For now, food and caffeine call.

T

When the skies are full of sound

The tin chimneys are rattling around 
Like pebbles in buckets on a riverbank
Held by a small boy's hand
And the sky is so full of sound
That you can nearly taste the invisibly bursting seams
As the thunder rips and attempts to tear
The sky limb from orange-hued limb

The rain attempts to wrap itself around
Every minuscule exposed surface
Including the flesh I can't seem to hide 
And the wind refuses to accept a single path
Or assume a single direction
As if chaos is the end in itself

The dogs find their howls suffocated
By the crashing thunder and shaking walls
And candles flit and flicker near windows
As if the mere threat of the storm was enough
To scare them into being extinguished
And regardless...
They're too busy hiding in bathtubs to be heard
As if the rage-filled battles of the cosmos above
Are enough to encourage Earth's holocaust

It's seems so odd that a few miles beyond these clouds
Stars still find a way to shine through clear skies
And the moon can wane through it's July cycle
Just as last night when I could see a man fishing
In it's light.
And that outside this little strip of prairie
Another amazing site is taking place
Even a million sites
As if it's possible that fingertips are being discovered 
For the first time
Or love is being sparked
Or a man is laid to rest

Moments fill our lives in such unique ways
Particularly when the skies are full of sound.

- T

Ends and beginnings

It's odd how new things can begin before the old things have ended... like new lives that start before the previous ones have ceased. It's like I'm caught in this strange middle ground of anxious apprehension leading up to my trip back to the Valley.

It's been nearly two years since I've stepped foot in the valley where I used to live. After walking away in hopes of being able to return, I've never gone back. I tried, I hoped, I prayed and was miserable about it for a long time. But the "No Entry" sign remained on the door to that former life. I've found new doors and have started to forget what that old home was like. But now that I'm returning to the doorstep, I'm not sure what to expect.

I haven't looked into her eyes in these two years. We've barely spoken. Many of the words that have crossed the abyss of e-land between us have held bitter poison and barbed tips. They were our weapons, as if our only way to stop hurting was to inflict more pain on the other. We fought over things I promised myself never to fight about. In retrospect, it was never about the things... but always about what was never resolved and about all the heartache I felt when she kept telling me, in a roundabout way, that she simply didn't want me anymore.

This is my past. This is me. This scar is bigger although more invisible than the one above my eye that came from my stitches from when I was 5, or the one running across a small piece of my gut as doctors tore out an evil organ from my belly. I think of the "scar" in Lord of the Flies... how it might grow over after a while, but it will always exist somehow. I met a girl who told me that this trial of the past few years is as much me as the books I've read or the family I've loved. But don't we all want to hide our scars? How do we wear them like jewels? Or a headdress? Or a medal of valour?

I've become so happy in my decisions over the past year, but as our meeting looms (to finalize our end), I just don't know what I'm going to feel...relief? Anxiety? Remorse? Jealousy? Hatred? 

Love?

The only thing I hope is that this last year has made me strong... strong enough to deal with whatever will course through my veins on my arrival. After a coffee date with a friend today, I realized how much it has been on my mind... it came out in a spewing remembrance of all that went on and all the wounds that were caused and all the frustration I felt. And until I finished with the ranting purge, I realized I was nearly out of breath, panting, wondering where it all came from.

All that remains is the actual event. I wonder, I dream, and I wait. Let come what may. What will happen, will be. And so.

T

To be

I want to be secret smiles
And longing glances
I want to be intrigue
And question marks
I want to be your curiosity
That may never provide you with any answers
I want to be the topic of raving conversation
And maybe I want to indulge my ego
But not just to make the pain go away
Not anymore

Those injuries have scarred over
And although they'll always remain
They're mere battle wounds from times past
Marks that have strengthened my resolve
To find all the adventure
And mischief
And jaw-dropping experiences
I can handle
In this life that is full of 
Things to come
And things to be

I want to be outrageous 
And get ridiculous
And be just a slight bit shameless
I want to fill a billion eyes
With my happiness
And plant my foot on rocks tiptoeing 
Towards the heavens
I want to have a list 
With bright, red slashes
Through all the things "to do"
And take that same pen
And scribble DONE
In obnoxious block lettering
Across each item

You know...
For impact

So many things remain of what's to be
And I want to be them all.

T

Lag

I've been up since before 5am as my body/brain adjust to the trip across the Pacific. I'm also sans-voice after picking up a bug on either the night bus back to Kunming or one of the many flights I've been  on in the past 10 days. And if you know me at all, you know that my particular personality doesn't do so well without a voice. And now that I'm back home, all I want to do is see people and visit. But I'm mute. So that makes it difficult.

I'm home, but not "home", per se. I'm staying with relatives back on the west coast of Canada, and although the city is just as comforting as ever, I no longer have my own place and will be couch-hopping for the next 6 weeks. I'm also not one who's good at being fussed over. And my relatives? They love to fuss. It's fun and endearing, but I never know how to act... I know they're just looking to take care of me, especially with my cough and lack of functional vocal output. But it's not a role I'm particularly strong in. Regardless, it's nice to be back.

It's strange. The homecoming. Like I'm in between homes and cultures. One of my new friends who I met in Yunnan discussed this on her blog before... the living in between cultures. Now, I know I'm not experiencing the phenomenon to that extent, but I do feel slightly homeless. Staying with relatives, friends, family. But never just on my own. No place that I can own and have to myself (even though I'm at my aunt's place right now and they're at work). It's just not the same. But that's okay... I'm still just happy to be able to see everyone.

This summer is going to be full of car trips and friends and family and (I hope) lots of coffee and beer and running and food. I was awake by about 4:15am yesterday morning (again, the jetlag), so I strapped on my shoes first thing in the morn and popped out for about 40 minutes in the quiet of the sunrise which was just starting to shine over the city. What an amazing feeling. The air was simply delicious (something I've never really noticed before, even if it has been sweet or delightful), and although I feel pretty out of shape, it was amazing to get out there to enjoy the morning. It almost makes me understand while people go out at that ridiculously early hour. The mountains across the water were towering and bright, the streets were silent, and the beach was so peaceful. I saw more deer than people, and even though I was cramping up and struggling at times, it was amazing to get out there.

The end of the time in China was so much fun. Yunnan was unbelievable and met some absolutely unforgettable people. I'm already trying to figure out if I can make it back again next year. I'd love to do more hiking and adventuring through the areas around Tiger Leaping and Shangrila, but time will tell if it happens for next year. Maybe a 3rd year will have to happen. Who knows? I've officially decided that it's pretty exciting that I only know what my life will look like for one more year... the unknown beyond that is just a thrilling collection of potential.

For now, though, I need to get the rest of my Yunnan stories written and maybe add some pictures to the blog. Make sure you touch base with me if you're in western Canada and want to hang. Much love from the democratic side of the Pacific.

T

Remembering

It's hard to imagine, but it's been three years since it happened.

I was in the later stages of my practicum. I was swamped with work and stress while looking forward to the end of my year. I had even started to reconsider my choice of entering this profession (as I've mentioned from time to time). I think it was a Sunday night while I was at home grading papers. My principal called me. I thought this was strange, since he and I had never spoken over the phone. He told me to sit down. That's something that doesn't happen in real life. Or, I guess it does. I heard words like, "unexpected" and "tragedy", but as I sat there frozen in my chair, K just looked at me trying to figure out what was wrong. I'm not one to be at a loss for words. All I could say was, "Oh my god" and, "Thanks for letting me know." Before that, I had never experienced such a profound sense of paralysis.

It didn't really hit me until the next morning when I walked into the school. I saw the faces of a few kids and some hadn't even heard. They looked at me the same way they always looked at me, but they seemed different to me. Something had changed. The realization of their mortality, maybe. Or maybe about the secret, sad lives they lead (suicide was suspected but never confirmed). Or maybe they just seemed more like kids than they ever had before. And they were kids that, even in all my frustration and anger and annoyance at their work ethic or incomplete assignments, were kids that I cared about.

I sat in my office all morning, and couldn't bring myself to go into the hallways. I kept thinking that as long as I didn't have to see anyone, that I would hold myself together. Then Dee, one of my practicum supervisors, came into the office. And I lost it. I couldn't even imagine how I could see the kids after that and not be in pieces. Every time I glanced out my office window into the hallways, I thought about every one of the kids in my classes and in the hallways and that I coached and that I barely knew who still said hi to me in the hallways.

The next few days were a blur or just trying to nod and smile my way through the few classes I had and through the halls and classes of the school.

I have all this on my mind because I recently found out that a student from a Kelowna school was murdered by another student late last week. At first, I didn't know what happened, and since I have two cousins who attend the school, I found myself struggling to breathe and I was panicking. I couldn't imagine if it was one of them. I found out when I was speaking to a teacher-friend who works at the school and who taught the victim last semester... she was pretty upset and was looking for someone to talk to, so I happily obliged. Luckily, she was understanding of my questions and told me who it was and what happened. And although I found a great sense of relief in learning that it wasn't one of my cousins, the sad reality of one child killing another made me mourn the nature of our lives. And my mind flashed back to KL (my former student). And to all of my students now who make me smile and drive me crazy and make me wonder about my place in this profession and in the world.

T

Buoyed

I often wonder about moments and times in our life when we become ready for, well, whatever it is that stands in front of us. Big decisions, personal challenges, life paths... I've watched in the lives of my family, my friends, and as many of you know, myself. I've never been apologetic about the major decisions I've made in my life. They have made me who I've become, and they've all helped mold me into the person whose fingers tap away. I've had moments where the initial sensation of regret creeps into my mind, but with a little bit of time and reflection I come to understand the role of these decisions in my life.

There have been moments (more than I can count, really) when I can't see beyond the tunnel as life pushes me into a place where I can't turn down the opportunity that sits in front of me. I'm sitting in my seaside apartment in a small summer holiday area outlying a peninsular Chinese city as May rolls into June, which explains enough in itself. Not so long ago, I was wrestling with all the misery lingering from losing the one I committed to nearly five years ago. And I can't deny that there aren't still days when I mourn that loss... but I don't regret my decision to leave or to come here. In fact, I couldn't (and still don't) acknowledge that there was another reasonable decision to be made. If I would've tried to wait any longer, I would've given away every remaining piece of me. And I sit here today as the spring clouds roll in over the coastal shores knowing that I've made it through the tunnel.

I'm finding myself reflective because of a man I'm lucky to have as a friend. We were speaking online tonight from across a continent as he makes his way through Europe for a trip with some of his amigos. Over this past year, he's been a phenomenal source of solace and good advice for me. He went through a hard breakup a few years ago and made it out with a new perspective, and passed on what he learned in every way he could to help keep me grounded and positive. And after speaking to him earlier and getting an email from him, I realized that his perspective has changed more in the last year than I could ever imagine. For a long time, he avoided the steps he's now taking... maybe because of fear, or uncertainty, or another phenomenon that made him balk. And the more I think about it, it just seemed like it wasn't his time. And now it is. And I don't think I've ever been so happy for anyone in my life. 

There were a couple of years after high school and after we'd both moved away from home that I wasn't sure that our friendship could weather the years and distance and changing lives. We had started to become extremely different and the conversations that came so naturally in our closer days seemed to be a lot more forced. Our common experiences were slowly fading. Now, though, even though we're leading radically different lives, we're still close. And through him and especially through his decision tonight, I finding my own hopes and wishes becoming real, and it's buoying me in ways I can't even explain. 

The decision he made today will hopefully be one that he'll live to tell his great-grandchildren about. Hell, I'll tell mine if he doesn't. Good on ya, SP. Making memories that'll last a lifetime.

T

A part

I hear words and melody and I think to myself
I want to be a part of the song I hear playing
While I'm looking at all you've created
In this world-non-world
Of perfect images

I see flashes captured and the instances boxed
And I want to be the eyes that stare out
From behind the framed glass
On your wall
Only so as to connect with all those
Passing glances from other's eyes
That seek meaning
In still moments

Maybe you'll find that I'm the sign

That you pass by on the roads ahead
When you're looking for somewhere to turn
Toward a place you can curl up in
And find the calm you seek

Could it be that you may
Let my breath be the breath that causes your skin
To shiver in the summer night's heat
As sweat beads on your neck
And slowly disappears into the linen
On which you breathe and sleep and dream

One day, it may be possible
You'll find my words
Are your words
And your love
Is our love

Maybe one day we'll speak
I'll meet you
Maybe one day

TM

Sharing some songs stuck in my head

For the first time since living in China, the rain is pattering at my window and has been all day. The smell of the water sneaks in my door, seeps through the walls and makes me think about all those quiet, soggy, book-filled days of walking through the coastal streets that I'm excited to get back to... makes me recall all the words I've abandoned through the years, like the rain is a graveyard for discarded thoughts and resentment. Something about the rain takes it all away... maybe the old metaphors and cliches of life made new and the world being refreshed. Whatever the case, I love the comfort I'm in, turning away offers of umbrellas so I can feel the drops on my pate and my brow in the short distance to my apartment. My hometown can keep the snow, but let me have the rain.

I got my mitts on a whole pile of Dave Matthews songs lately, and a few have been inside my mind for days. Others are new tastes that I unexpectedly stumbled upon or songs that I don't think I'll ever get out of my head because of their power/beauty. Click on the titles and enjoy...

Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds - Eh Hee

Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds - Down by the River 

Rusted Root - Send me on My Way

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals - Nothing but the Water Part 1

Carol Woods and Timothy T. Mitchum - Let it Be (from the Across the Universe soundtrack)

T

Friday night nonsense

I'm daydreaming, escaping these walls of mine
Mind slipping to silent dreams
Of hands clutching coffee cups under cover of a car's roof
Beside coastal waters as waves crash overhead.
We quietly clasp each other's hands, keeping close and warm,
Listening to the world speak in windswept whispers
And water-flooded shouts where we can feel alone
Yet endlessly and eternally not alone.

I'm recklessly romantic in these mindful rendezvous'
As I ignore fact and embrace these fanciful fictions
Found inside my brain.

TM

Recent, unfinished thoughts

I've always lived inside the philosophy that life (and love) needs to be electric... charged like static sparks between fingers or live wires whipping erratically between telephone poles after being snapped in a storm... unpredictable and alive. I have reflected on my dating habits prior to marriage and know that none of the girls I dated seemed to last more than a few months. They had the fire and the initial spark, but something began to fade after a few months. There was one instance when the electricity didn't fade, but it was snuffed out. 

When I think about moving on in my life, I think about the pursuit of this high I used to know... the charge of passion and electricity that I used to feel... how good and alive it felt, and how I needed it like cocaine. Every ounce of me pursued it, and even when it led me to the self-destructive I still longed for it and craved it and hated it for escaping my grasp. It wasn't simply physical, but something more all-encompassing. It was the pursuit and the pursued, and it eluded me.

********

It's another morning in paradise
Not sure if I'm going to to leave my bed
All this sun streaming in the window
It's doing nothing to change my mind

All I know these days is that these days it's only
The darkness of an empty apartment
Waking up to an empty mailbox
And to the vacant pillow beside my head

Stretch those arms out my way
I'll only wait for a little while
I can't quite reach your fingers
My breath can only last so long

In my mind are memories of crisp, spring nights
Where the night is clear and the stars are out
I'm falling asleep to candle light
With the faint hum of jazz in my ears

Now the laughter I hear is outside the window
Twenty floors down where love lives now
This laughter lives in frameless pictures
That have left the walls of my life behind.

*******

Another bout of restless introspection
Is following me to bed
As if it conspires to create
My newly insomniatic head.

Blue lights buzzing,
Memory fuzzing
Over all the details
That weren't worth remembering

*******

I'm a million words swimming in a stormy head
Not certain of up or down
Or if there's anything particularly interesting 
Any which way or long way 'round

I sometimes like to kid myself 
I'm an anomaly like the rest of the world
I'm an intriguing glance across a room
As everything tightly wound becomes unfurled

I'm overused rhyme schemes
In overused thought streams
I'm a mystery

I'm baffling and inspiring
But more maddening
Than anything
You cast glances, they're loving
While I remain 

TM

Early morning sensory stimulus and a million beginnings

The smell of smoked duck neck is penetrating the air in our English office. The Chinese ESL teachers love this as a morning snack, and I have to admit that I can't bring myself to try it at 9:00am. It doesn't quite go with my sweet muesli/fruit/yogurt/coffee breakfasts or my freshly brushed, pepperminty teeth.

Lately I've been starting a number of different posts, full of lofty poetic ambition and life-fulfilling insight. Only to get a stanza or two into the writing before abandoning the effort in an inability to connect with what I want to say or how I'm feeling. I keep feeling like I can't find any stable ground right now, and every time I settle into some sort of emotional mind-state, something arises to rip that sturdy platform from under me. At school, I'm having my classes changed and rearranged on a daily basis. I'm struggling to sort out exactly what to teach the kids as they have so little time remaining in the semester/year, and I keep trying to figure out what the priorities need to be in order to maximize the effectiveness of my classes. This hasn't exactly been a fruitful venture.

Then, after getting a preliminary teaching schedule for next year from my friends at the high school, I find out that it's turned into the undesirable dog's breakfast of classes... more or less a mix of stuff that no one wants to teach. Now I'm hoping for this state of change to keep going, as the classes have almost zero appeal.

I'm also still reeling from all the anger and frustration felt with the recent splitting up of stuff and the signing of paperwork as K and I attempt to finalize everything. Maybe we'll never be able to forgive each other or get past the recent bitter exchanges, but I just really want that. I'm still also seeking some final closure and feel like I want the chance to really talk about everything, but it seems
impossible right now. And maybe it will remain that way. I don't know. All I know is that I don't want to feel like 9 years are going up in a smoky fire of resentment. But it seems impossible to bridge the gap at this point. I've never been patient when I feel the need to fix/resolve things, and the anxiety relating to making an attempt to just bury our metaphorical hatchet... but it seems like we're both guarding the weapon with our lives, as if by maintaining our grip on the hostility, we're maintaining some sort of dignity. But all it has been doing is destroying that very thing.

The past few weeks haven't been unpleasant... they've just been unsettled. While on vacation last week, I spent some quality time with a few books and I thought a lot about the fact that I'd love to dedicate more time to that. And maybe about going back to school in the not-so-distant future. Who knows. I also keep thinking about starting over again with new people in my life, new women in my life... I've tried to avoid the thoughts but they keep creeping into my mind. Maybe because I just keep thinking about the fact that I haven't really been able to share my life with anyone recently, from vacations to personal triumphs to the regular, daily struggles. And I
can't really burden people over and over with such expectations, especially when they have their own lives to lead.

That's probably the most obvious and real thing I've noticed since K and I separated... all the people in my life that I used to be so close to are now so involved in their lives and communities that I feel like a satellite now. This is due to, in large part, to my own decisions. But it gets a little lonely because of such decisions.

T

Cusps

I've escaped my slightly prison-like accommodations in Daheishi for the week and am enjoying the warm, overcast humidity of Xi'an in central China. It's the May Day holiday week, and I'm off school until Sunday. Currently, I'm sitting in my hostel, watching the local kittens jump and play at my feet as I think about where I'm going to get my next cup of coffee.

My first few days here haven't been particularly exciting... I've been taking it easy and definitely slept in this morning in order to recapture some of the sleep debt that I've built up over previous weeks. Even my first night here, I tossed and turned and reacted to all the noise in the nearby courtyard and only managed to get about 4 or 5 hours of rest. But, with the purchase of ear plugs yesterday (which came with a delightful Winnie-The-Pooh eye mask to keep that pesky light out), I was able to assume a more zombie-like state last night in my small dorm. It also helped that there was only one other person in my room and he's extremely quiet.

So much is awaiting me in coming weeks... there's only another 7 weeks of teaching once I get back to Dalian, and then (hopefully) a 10 day trip to Yunnan before my stressful/busy/fun-filled summer in Canada, then another year of teaching and adventure in China. I'm on the verge of finishing my first year away from Canada while also being close to becoming a legally-single man again. So many things to think about... finding apartments, sorting out who I can see and when I can see them when I return, trying to figure out how I'm going to see everyone, try to find some civil ground between K and I.... just so many things.

The prospect is pretty daunting. Realistically I've been going solo for more than a year now (been away from Kelowna for nearly 2 years), but there's something particularly final about the signing of the paperwork and making it legal. It's been a pretty miserable past few weeks, dealing with embittered emails and a combined inability to understand each other and to let sleeping dogs lie. I think both of us are just frustrated and maybe we're both refusing to see the other's perspective. I don't actually know where the root problem lies, but I'm pretty sure that is stems from the unresolved feelings from the beginning of the separation. But now that we're really going our separate ways, is there any reason to sort it out? I want to say there is, but the realist in me is suspicious.

For now, though, I'm off to make something of my day...

T

Sharing

So, this is unrelated to anything that I typically write, but I thought I'd share.

Glee.

It's funny. And entertaining. And I may have watched all of this season in the past 10 days. And I'm probably going to watch the rest of the episodes as they come out. So. Judge as you wish. Or just share your love. Whatever you want. 

T

The other days

It's early on your side of the world
But it's not like I'm keeping track
Anymore
Not because of you, anyway...

Today's one of those other days
Where I leave you behind and find
Another little way to say goodbye
Another moment where the scissors
Go to work, cutting you away and shaping
What's left of everything that was
Into another cast off memory

This is one of the other days
Where I'm looking elsewhere
To another pair of beautiful eyes
Ones that will find a way to love me
And follow me on another one of my adventures
Hands that'll find me in the darkness
And hold on to make sure I'm not going anywhere
A silent breath beside me to let me know
That there ain't nothing left between us.

This is just another day
Where I'm letting you go again
And again and again
And again.

I've never been ready
But baby, the ready's all in the doing
So I guess tonight says it all
In another little goodbye.
I know this isn't the last one
But one day it will be
Until then
Until then
I guess that says it all
Until then.

In repair...

"I'm in repair...
I'm not together
But I'll get there"

- J. Mayer, "In Repair"

The words in my head, as they stream through metaphors like spring waterfalls through canyons

I'm living in a blue world tonight
But it's not because I'm pining away
These unnatural lights buzzing overhead 
Are causing me to go out of my mind
I need a little warmth
A bit of sunshine
Something that will help me feel
That the world is fine, so fine
I'm scratching lines into the plaster
Covering the concrete wall above my headboard
Because I'm counting down all the days
That lie in front of me before I can find
Just another place to lay my head 
And fill my eyes with something
New... always looking for something shiny
And still glistening in all it's cellophane
The excitement lies in that anticipation
And the hope that lives inside
The crinkle of the plastic before it's torn to reveal
The reality of what lives within
Sometimes it's easy to see that what we pursue
Is not what lies inside the shrink-wrap 
But the idea of the shrink-wrap itself
Something untapped
Undiscovered and untainted by everything 
And anything that could spoil the window dressed
Perfection.

T

The finalizing of my current life (and the creating of the new one)

My recent activities read like a slightly morose checklist...

In the past week, I have:

- Applied for non-residency from Canada
- Filed taxes as a burgeoning non-resident
- Changed the beneficiary on my life insurance
- Made changes to tax assessments from last year
- Decided on the final split of marital assets via email
- Signed the first set of divorce papers

Things I will do in the next week which are FAR less morose:

- Enjoy drinks with friends
- Coach (and judge) students for a regional speech comp
- Catch up on marking
- Rid myself of my hockey hair
- Book hostels for my trip to Xi'an
- Make plans for my adventure to Yunan in July
- Organize my summer trip to see friends back in Janada!
- Check out apartments for life in a much nicer/bigger city
- Contemplate next year's winter holidays (and my big raise)
- Introspectively wonder what life will look like in 2 years time
- Hopefully find time to sleep

As always, I seek balance...

T

Transitions

I know about all that I'm not looking for
I'm still seeking, hoping to find
Everything I wasn't sure about
Remains in the recesses of my mind

I knew you for a moment
Or maybe for a week
You found me when I had just stopped stumbling
But I hadn't learned to speak

Well baby, I'm finding my voice now
I'm figuring a way to shout
The fog is fading, my legs are shaking
And I know I'm nearly out, out, out.

I'm living as a long-distance mystery,
You remain in the shadowed dark
We knew each other for a few short seconds
Before our lives made us depart

It's just the unknown in front of us
Never been a "you and me"
As the path winds on in the distance
I journey on with a memory

T

Easy

I don't know what I expected, or how I got caught up in all of this. I always said that I was never attached to these material things and that I'd never be that guy who needs to take such things with him if/when we had to say goodbye. I guess I'm holding on and I'm fighting back and I'm getting upset because I'm clinging to the possibility of change and of acknowledgement of everything that's gone on within the realm of of dividing up all the things we collected and shared and cherished while we still lived a common life. I'm seeking refuge from the heartbreak and all those old feelings of frustration by expecting that I'd finally have no issues getting what I want or ask for, even if it's simply a bunch of replaceable... stuff. I feel like I've received nothing of what I wanted for a long time, and now, when that possibility seemed to stare me in the face, I'm disappointed again. So I'm saying hurtful things and allowing myself to be openly angry because I mourn the fact that we're at this point.

I'd talked briefly to a good friend about my frustrations, and he asked if I'd been able to rise above it all. The truth is, I haven't been able to. Where I was feeling so much positivity just a few weeks ago with our communications, things have definitely degraded. I feel like I'm giving up. 

I hope this doesn't imply that I have lingering hopes about getting back together or anything like that... I'm satisfied with my decision and I'm excited about the events from the past year and the upcoming potential in my life. But I just thought that we'd finally come to a point where we could forget about it all or at least acknowledge the misery and move past it. But then it happened... the dividing of the possessions began and we went right back into the black hole of disagreement, accusation and words said in frustration and anger. Maybe she's being the bigger person in our communications. And maybe I'm the guilty one who's been the source of the anger. Maybe I should just stop caring. But after having the sense that I've been walked on for the past few years, I can't simply pull myself out of it. I'm in the middle of the muck. Luckily, I think that we're just gonna sign a ridiculous (but sadly necessary) piece of paper saying "This is mine and this is yours and by providing our signatures our lives will no longer intersect". I guess it's time. Just so sad that something like love can devolve so tragically into this. 

Okay... no more of this self-pity party. In other news, I'm running again, I have my job for the fall that I've wanted, I'm going to be able to pay off a big chunk of my loans next year and I've got a world full of adventures ahead. Sometimes I just lose focus of the big picture when I'm wallowing in the rubbish. Brighter days are ahead.

T

In short

It's all music in the background
And papers to be signed
Envelopes lie unsealed
As my will remains resigned
Will the timer on the stove
Remind me what I'm trying to find
Or will the sun streaming in the window
Make me blind, blind, blind

Poem after the news

Poem after reading the news

How am I supposed to sleep at night
When the streets are running red 
And the smile upon your face
Does nothing to hide the tears they shed?

When teachers are stabbing children
And students abuse themselves
The parents are staying silent
Until the lie's too hard to sell.

How much will your silence cost you?
Is it more than a sack of coins?
Is it worth more than the innocence
Of your little girl or your boy?

I'm closing all my blinds tonight
Because the shame's too much to bear.
How do we face such a tragic problem
When responsibility has the density of air?

** I just came across this on my computer. I wrote it shortly after moving here and I read about a teacher in central China who stabbed on of her students, and another was being charged with abuse. Also, there was a student who beat a student so bad that she was sent to the hospital... in a middle school. Apparently the teacher-student abuse had happened a number of times at the schools and although complaints were made, the abusive teacher didn't get reprimanded until the abuse made the papers. Such misery and sadness piled on kids all over the world...

T

Life in perspective (if only for moments)

The March night has fallen quiet outside my window. I have a belly full of food, and my weary legs and head leave me with the feeling that I've worked hard today (though my work remains to be done, even at 8pm). My mind has been yanked and pulled in a million different directions. In one moment, I'm stressed about being up to my ears in grade 9 papers. In another, I'm trying to understand why I have yet to hear about my application for the job I applied for. In still another, I'm wondering what kind of active resolution tactic I can try with a student who continues to challenge my patience (and sanity). But all of these things are merely flesh wounds... scrapes and bumps along this sometimes rocky road of teaching and life. They likely won't leave a mark beyond the next few days. "My head is bloody, but unbowed..."

Even I sit here, dreading my pile of marking that awaits my red pen, I can sense the subtle sweetness in my life. I'm healthy, alive, and lucky to be surrounded by wonderful people. I have opportunities that are mere dreams to others. I live a life that is uncertain but brims with possibility.

This all comes out of a story I just read about through my friend Ciboulette. Her friend Steph has been facing some serious life challenges with her young daughter who will likely/definitely be diagnosed with some form of cancer in the next few days. Her daughter is five months old, and cute as a button. She is (along with her family) remaining hopeful and positive in the face of what I can only imagine to be heart-crushing anxiety. Reading this sort of story makes my problems shrink into oblivion, and her strength makes me recall a million different words of hope and optimism, from Dr. Seuss to Emily Dickinson to William Ernest Henley. I can only hope that she finds such words too, along with the support of those around her.

Why is it that the confrontation or experience of fear, pain, sadness and anxiety are the things that can make us feel the most real and make us the most reflective?

A moment living in perspective. Good luck with everything, Steph and Co.

T

Adrenaline junk and a name that lives in the sky

I was having a conversation with my closest friend from high school the other day. We're both in places of transit or uncertainty. He's just received his medical school placement (although a great city, definitely not his first choice), and I was discussing my uncertainty about what my life will look like in 6 months. I joked around about being slightly bipolar, even though I was completely manipulating the surface understanding of the word to make a point. I started thinking out loud and may have come to the conclusion that I pursue intense experiences in whatever form they take. I love spicy food, robust red wine, beer as black as death, rich coffee, intense curries, long hikes, rock climbing, running, challenging novels, music with lyrics that will move me in my emotions, and relationships where my heart will be filled to the point of exploding and broken like fine china on a ceramic floor. I like to wrestle out my thoughts into words on a page and will refuse to back down from an argument that I feel excited about or a topic I am familiar with. I defend ideas that I don't necessarily believe in and sometime the things I myself ridicule. I love the devil's advocate when challenged. I go out of my mind when the students refuse to embrace ideas and when people around me hide under a thin veil of ignorance. SP is the same way, except he's much more of the adventure junkie and seeks the experiences in a much more motivated fashion. When these opportunities arise, I jump on them, but when they're absent, I become sloth-like. It's like I need to be kicked in the solar plexus to act. I only put a small amount of effort into the less intense facets of my life, but when the passion rises up in me I feel that sense of being alive. This could explain a lot of things. Maybe it can help me be more aware and more in control of my laziness. We'll see.

These traits have lived within me for years. When I was in middle/high school, I challenged any ideas that felt incongruent with my own thoughts. I obsessed over rock music lyrics that would speak to me in order to find meaning. I started going on a few websites that had religious discussion forums and spent endless hours attempting to wrap my own hands around my personal faith while crushing all other ideas that did not line up with my ideas about rationality and legitimacy. I filled notebooks with poetry and lyrics and quotes from people I admired or just thought brilliant. I argued with my parents endlessly, particularly my father, for no other reason than I felt like I needed to defend and assert and be myself. I hated the feeling of my "black sheep" status, but I've long since embraced it. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be doing all the things I've done in my life, from Europe to the Left Coast, to today, as I sit in front of my apartment window in rural China as the spring rains finally begin to fall. I'm perfectly content being the weird kid in the family, even if that's begun to fade in my adulthood.

When I was 17, I was a member of my high school's student council, and was chosen to be Pres in my senior year. One of the perks to this title (only voted on amongst the other members... I would've been annihilated if the vote went out among the general student population) was that I was able to attend a bunch of student leadership conferences around southern Alberta. Most were local, but one was for a full week during the summer in Waterton. This still strikes me as a pretty intensely formative experience, and is probably the first legitimate time I fell in love. The girl who became the apple of my eye was from a town about 4 hours north of me, and even though we both had some really intense feelings over the years after not seeing each other for ages, we never dated and never even lived in the same city. She actually moved to my hometown at one point... the same year I moved out to the coast. Fate works in funny ways. We still keep in touch, but after my own marriage and hers (and now with her new little baby), our lives are much different. But we both pursued the same career and maintain a lot of our old, idealistic passions and ideas.

One of her friends from the same town also attended, and we got along famously. To this day, he remains one of the friends I never see but would still trust with absolutely anything and everything.

At this same leadership camp, there were a number of international students attending... some from South America, some from Europe, a few from Japan and a few from the US. One guy, Phillip, was from Slovakia. He was an absolute riot, and made our group laugh endlessly. He coined the term "1cm water" (you'll have to email me for a full explanation) when going creek-crawling up a small stream near our campsite, and was always happy to show off his short-shorts in the sunshine. We were talking one day and I'd mentioned that my father's family was Slovenian, so he asked me about my last name. I told him. A big smile came across his face as he explained to me that my last name in Slovak means "cloud". Since then, I've loved sharing that story. And I love the meanings behind names. My first name has both Irish, Celtic and Welsh roots. The Welsh meaning is "Big Village", but the Celtic/Irish meaning is "Prudent" or "Wise". I can only hope that "wise" is something that I can embrace as days go on. So, if you combine these two it becomes "Wise cloud" or "Prudent Cloud". If it was "Big village cloud", I guess my mom wouldn't be surprised, knowing her references to Badluck Schleprock (check out wikipedia for the entry about this Flintstones character). Is this a self-fulfilling prophecy? I love my communities and moved to the coast to live in the rain. And I've wanted a tattoo meaning "cloud" for quite sometime. Hmmmm...

T

Catalogues

I'm looking for a little inspiration
Is there a catalogue I can peruse?
I'm searching for something a little different
Maybe something with a view.

I've checked out a number of websites
But nothing has fit just right
I haven't quite found the perfect colour
Maybe I'll look again another night.

"Yes, hi there. Customer service?
I'm wondering if you can help me out.
I'm in search of a new-fangled something
That will take away this pout."

"I'm sorry sir, but the item you're looking for
Is freshly out of stock.
You might want to check our competitors
But the poor quality might come as a shock.

"Maybe you can find something
At a local market or store.
Please know that these things are in high demand
And anything in good condition might cost a little more."

"Thanks for your time, I'll keep checking around.
Goodbye," I said as I put down the phone.
I think I'll just check with the neighbours up the road
Maybe if they know of something they'll consider a loan.

In the meantime I'll keep the shades closed tight.
There's no need to broadcast my desperate need.
I'll go knocking when they return from work
Maybe then I'll be able to plant my garden's seeds.

TM

Where to place my feet?

The weather is slowly starting to provide glimpses of spring time. The wind still whistles in through my poorly sealed windows in the night, and I'm still doing everything possible to warm up my hands in our frosty office at the school. But good omens are upon the winds. As I walked down JinmaLu in Kaifaqu today, I heard a rustling in some trees and the cheerful chirping of some birds who were obviously longing to break out of their winter funk. The ice on the BoHai Sea has melted and departed from the beaches and bays around Daheishi. As I walked around Kaifaqu today, I noticed that I had forgotten to wear my long-johns under my jeans (a first, since probably early December), but I wasn't cold or even slightly uncomfortable. Just the other day I was telling people that I felt like Spring was upon us... they told me to get a grip and stick my head out the window to see if this was true. But now, my friends... I'm happy to say I told them so.

I realize that by saying this, I'm likely going to be responsible for causing the biggest spring cold-snap China's ever seen. But, I'm willing to assume that this is all just the power of positive thinking. Perpetually self-critical but outwardly optimistic. I think my running shoes are going to get some quality time on the asphalt in coming weeks.

Living out here has been a strange experience, where I have a foot in two different communities but don't real feel like a part of either. Every Monday to Friday, I assume my position at the front of my classroom and attempt to instill a bit of learning into the minds of my middle school kids. I live on campus, I eat lunch at the cafeteria, and play badminton with some of the students periodically. I go for dinner with some of the teachers, and go running up the highway near the school when the weather permits. But I still don't have a thing on my walls... and I feel like I'm perpetually living in wait. I've kept trying to get positions over at the high school throughout the year, and I had a lot of hope that our school would actually change locations before the end of the school year. Why get settled when you're just going to move soon anyways, right? So even though I live here, it has never quite felt like home.

Then every weekend, I run off to Kaifaqu to spend the weekends with the Seaths. They're the most gracious people on the planet to let me crash on their couch every weekend for 8 or 9 months. That's real friendship. I'm sure they're ready to tell me to get my own place, but they haven't said so yet. I've befriended a tonne of people from the high school, but it often remains in the context of being Darren and Mandy's friend. Not always, but definitely sometimes. And since I have to head back out here every Sunday afternoon and I don't have my own place in Kaifaqu, my flexibility is pretty limited to do and go where I want if I was to have my own plans. I desperately want to be a member of that community, but I am limited in that ability. And even though I am a part of things I feel as though I want to be a more independent part of it. But I can't. It's kinda frustrating. Even though I've hung out with and made plans with people from the high school here and there, they all have their lives and their activities and their events planned out. Fitting me in seems like a big challenge. And maybe since they only ever see me a handful of times a month, it's more work than anything. I keep a foot in that world regardless (I think I'd go bananas out here otherwise), but I still can't really be a full-fledged member. It's like being a constant acquaintance but little more. It's like that way with travelling... you meet someone, you get on really well with them, and then you leave. You may keep in touch for a while, but most times it just fades away. All that effort for a likely reality that you'll never see each other again. Feels that way out here.

And now that I think of it, I'm living in China. So I guess I inhabit three estranged communities.

Now that the Ides of March are upon us and everyone's starting to talk about home. The Seaths are flying out at the start of July as D has his Masters program. A few of the other awesome people I've met here are leaving to move back to Canada after being here for a few years. The returning teachers are swooping down on the soon-to-be-vacated apartments like vultures on a tepid corpse. People are talking about summer plans and where they're going and how they can't wait to be done with the year. And I can't make any plans. I don't know when my last official day of work is, I don't know if I have a job for the fall yet, I don't know if I'll need to look for an apartment in Kaifaqu for September, and I don't know what I'm going to do if I don't get on with the high school. I have some ideas, but the job application anxiety is hitting me hard right now. It's distracting me... making my sleep restless and is making my gut do backflips. But as spring time thaws and I start to stretch my legs and get that little hint of ambition, I try hard to have something to focus on. It's just a world of flux, as per usual.

T

A day set aside

To the women in my life,

For all the passion, intelligence, beauty, understanding and insight you bring into my life, I want to say thank you. You challenge me in a number of ways, whether it's through the demands to be a better friend, better teacher, better mate or better man. Whether you're encouraging me in my personal and professional life, or you're inspiring me to think that all women are just a little bit crazy*, I still thank you for challenging my worldview, my opinions and my suppositions about life. My world is a more beautiful place because of all of you. A quote I saw that I think I should share:

Women really do rule the world.  They just haven't figured it out yet.  When they do, and they will, we're all in big big trouble.  ~"Doctor Leon,"

Happy International Women's Day.

T

* (Something cheeky was necessary.)

A note on transition, and words from December

It's been a long time coming. Two years in the making. I've kept trying to will myself to it... to force it, to make it manifest. But after giving up this attempt to twist it's arm, the letting go is finally taking place. I'm finally at the point where all the memory is being abandoned in the face of my own understanding. So many things mulled, considered, questioned. And finally I know I'm going to be okay.

I know it's over. I hoped and prayed and desperately desired to hold on to the remnants, hoping that something would come from all the pining and praying and wishing. But I find myself looking back, knowing that this new understanding and sense of calm will be carrying me forward in this life that's been waiting on the doorstep for so long. I guess I let it in after it waited on the porch through the cold. Just as the BoHai Sea begins to thaw, so do I.

I wrote the following four poems in December when I was going through a week or two of missing her. I miss her still, but not in a way of longing. Just in a way of wishing that it hadn't been so miserable. I've finally let her go, and I think we finally are letting the past be the past. I don't know why I neglected to publish them... I know part of it was because I thought the poems were rubbish, but I just want to put them out there so they're not lingering in the drafts folder. I guess it's partly cathartic. I know it's time. It's been time for months. But it's finally happening. And I'm so excited about what's to come. The bitterness and anxiety and desperate longing have faded, and now I'm just staring a big, beautiful and uncertain life in the face. People used to attend Shakespeare performances as a method of experiences this catharsis. This is my method. The poems are untitled (as usual). Remember, these were written nearly 3 months ago and definitely reflect the time.

You're packing up your life
And moving across town.
All the remaining memories
You've kept shut up in that extra room
Are going to creep out and haunt you
Even if it's only for a little while.
Everything that I was to you
Everything that still remains
Of me is in that room.
You don't see my reflection
In the portraits on the wall.
Everything we were together
Remains in that closet
In those boxes I left behind.
I carried on naive hopes
Of coming back some day
And making myself at home again.
You probably think I left you and us behind
And now you're leaving what's left of you and I.

That town, it held some promise
Of a life that was to come...
A new start where we'd walk on, you and me.
I remember walking down those streets
Whispering to them, asking them if they'd mind
If we stuck around a while and made a life there.
I guess the answer got lost in the wind
Or the snowy cold
Since it wasn't a town for us
But was a town for you.
Now it's a town I'll never return to.

Maybe you have all the answers
Now that you've shed your guilty conscience
But I don't have that luxury.
The best I hope for is that the sadness
Doesn't sink too far under my skin
And if I hope hard enough
A little hope and excitement will return
For me, and for a new life without you.

____________________________________________________

I said, "It's nice to meet you," after telling her my name
She said, "I can see the lingering sadness behind your eyes."
I asked, "Can I buy you a coffee or dinner sometime?"
She said, "Not until you stop asking why, lord, why."

I told her, "I love the way you smiled back there."
She said, "You're holding on to something you can't leave behind."
I asked, "Are you doing something new with the colour of your hair?"
She replied, "The only thing you need to change is all that's in your mind."

It's high time to walk the new road now
No more faking it along the way
The only thing worth finding is what I know
Even though I won't find you at the end of the day

The signs have all been pointing
To all you haven't said
But in all this constant silence
I found what I knew I'd dread
Goodbye. Goodbye.
There's no way to dance around it all.
Goodbye. Goodbye.
It's time to say goodbye.

______________________________________________

Tonight my reflection in the window
Seems nothing like the man I knew in the past
I'm not sure whose eyes are looking
Back at me

I've been reflecting on all the memories we'll bury
And how I thought it'd last
Now I'm not sure what I'm feeling
As I fall silently asleep

My eyes are adjusting to the darkness
And my skin stopped sensing the cold
Within the shadows I'm not sure what's lurking
Other than a little misery.

This is everything I've been coming to
My memory is shed, and everything is new
The only thing left is everything I want to do
And everything I leave behind is all I did for you.

_______________________________________________

I left the door open after I got home tonight
I'm leaving it that way until midnight
Maybe you'll catch a cab
Or walk by sometime around eleven
Then we'll talk until the sun rises
Like friends who used to know each other

I left the door open again all week
It'll probably stay that way until Friday
Just in case you can catch a flight
Or find the the train into town and stop by
For a few minutes
Or for the rest of your life.
Maybe we can catch a movie and talk about
The way it all seems to work out in the end

I've been keeping the door ajar all year
Just enough to let you know you can still come in
But the house is getting cold and all the plants are dying
I've got blankets piled up around me
But the position of the door ain't changing
Is there chance you'll be here by the new year?
I've got a little more wood to burn but soon
It'll all be frozen.

The door isn't closing, but this time I ain't to blame
I can't take responsibility for leaving it open
I've been stuck in the same position
For a whole year now, never leaving
My place on the chair beside the empty, ash-laden fireplace
I'm not moving anywhere anymore

I guess there's no sense in talking to the bones
They're not going anywhere
I don't feel the cold anymore like I used to
But then again, there's so much I got used to.
The draught from the door does little more
Than to rustle the dust beneath my feet.

I spring awake as I hear the door click shut
Was it blown closed by the spring air
Beyond the windows?
I'm hearing footsteps steadily approaching
I'm wondering who that could be
But soon I realize it's the sound of my own feet
And it wasn't the wind but my hands upon the door
That made the latch click shut
I have my keys in hand and am walking toward the car
No longer on the inside of all the waiting
I'll be gone a while, and I'll be travelling far.

T

The wax and wane of travel

I'm lying as still as I can as the pavement rumbles underneath my body. I feign silence, but my mind is louder than the music in my ears. There's a bipolar electricity coursing in my soul right now. I'm still in the process of letting go... letting it all fade away. This strange new future of mine is on the doorstep but it remains obscured with all the gray beyond the window. I keep feeling the lightning in my veins but it's so often followed by the uncertain sensation of all that remains unknown in front of me.

I'm seeking a hand to hold, as if it'll be the salve that will release all that makes me restless through the night. The desire for such comfort makes the barriers of shyness crash to the floor and boldness rises to the surface. It's definitely not a false sense of confidence... just one that seems to be rediscovering itself as it finds itself.

****

Thoughts of her pass through my mind, but they have more of a fleeting sensation than they've ever had before. She's still there in the recesses of my mind, but she doesn't want us anymore. And I'm finally at a point where I'm okay with that. The future staring at me in the mirror is an exciting one full of potential. I seek one who inspires me and excites me like this trip has done. I know I've covered these ideas and feelings before, but it's seems like such a long time since I've been really excited about my life. Even when I first moved to China, there was a sense that I was running and wasn't ready and wasn't sure about anything, especially myself. But I'm starting to find that again. I don't think I knew how lost I was while everything was falling apart, but I might've been as lost as she was. I've even had a sense that some of those around me saw that very thing but couldn't or didn't know how to say anything. But I know it now. It's like I was suffering from emotional cataracts, but the milky fog is starting to burn off in the light of this new life.

It's weird... I'm absolutely exhausted right now. I've been travelling for nearly six weeks now and my return to China is a looming reality. I'm okay with it though, other than the daunting idea of returning to work in about 10 days. I'm tired from the travel, from being "up" and excited all the time, from the constant story-telling and experiencing new faces. I haven't spent more than a few days with any single individual this trip, and I'm craving that to a certain extent. I thought I knew what my plans for my week of vacation in the spring were going to be, but that might change. There are so many things I want to know about what's to come, but I know I have to be patient. The older I get, the more I realize that I'm a bit more of a homebody than I ever thought. I guess I should've known... all the time spent in familiar coffee shops around familiar faces back on the familiar, rainy coast or in the familiar, dusty prairies.

On I go, seeking what I crave and all the things that make me feel like me again. Whether that takes the form of an excellent book or delicious food or the sight of a place that I only ever knew in my wild, childhood dreams. I'm beginning to find the Vietnam that I believed in as a child. It was the same with Thailand as my buses traveled north, or in Borneo as my bus rumbled through the jungle. The stuff of dreams...

T

Extensions

The last and most recent poem is one I wrote many weeks before it was published. For some reason, I didn't feel like publishing it immediately. Rather, I invited a close friend to review it, looking for some honest and critical feedback. It's something I rarely do (asking for real, literary feedback), but I thought it was one that could inform my writing. As you'll see, she found my preamble more interesting than the poem  (which I can appreciate). So, in the spirit of engaging with the process, I thought I'd both write a bit about the poem and print what I wrote her in the email. I'm still not sure why I decided to send that poem on that night, but it had an interesting result nonetheless.

First, my hesitation/delay/thoughts in my head...

After reading through the past year of this blog, I noticed (obvious as it was) the vast majority of the posts came from a place of venting and of reconciliation. It wasn't that I was attempting to reconcile anything in my actual relationship (because, as you may have guessed from these posts, I believe/know that such things can only be healed through mutual participation). It has had more to do with taming and understanding and attempting to heal from the emotional tornado that has ripped through my life. All that was known is now unknown. All that was light became dark. Even though I don't challenge the importance of my writing (it's too much like lifeblood to me), I always knew it was more about the cathartic process than the writing process. Even in all my self-indulgent dreams, I have an impossible time seeing the potential in anything I write beyond the fact that I feel the impulse, the need, to put it all down on paper (or out into the virtual world, as the case may be).

In noticing this heavily weighted trend, I thought I'd tamper with some of the ideas that I'd scribbled down over those previous few days/weeks (which never materialized into anything), and attempt something a little more structured and maybe a little less, well, desperately morose. Let's be honest... some of it was downright depressing. I maintained the subject matter, but did so without context in an attempt to make it more universal. I tried to use more concrete language and fewer abstract ideas to develop a theme throughout. While reading previous poems, I sometimes (read: often) found that they lost their way in the rhyme and in the moment and their beginning and end didn't always find each other. As it turns out, one of the side effects might have been too many concrete images and not enough substance. But, it's all about learning and I'm glad she was as honest as she was (even if she did nearly abandon the critical process by condemning her own opinion and telling me it's "lovely" :) ). I appreciate the help, DvP. 

Now, the email, so you can all participate in all facets of my mindset at the time:

It seems like I go in spurts with my writing, and I seem to have little control over when I'm feeling like telling a story and when I'm not. Some days the words spray from my fingers like a leaking roof during a torrential rain. I never edit... never spend time proofing these rivers of words that pour out onto the page. You asked me in one of my comments if it'll ever turn this writing into something more. I knew what you meant and have considered it. But the fact that the words exist and they're placed somewhere may be enough consolation for me. Few people read [this] blog (and that's always been the case), and even though I know that there's a couple people who still stop by and peruse and participate in that frail, nervous world I maintain, my purpose has always been cathartic, and maybe just the slightest bit egotistical. My poetry, ridden with cliche and overly obvious rhyme, has never been a place of confidence for me. I go back later and continually shake my head at the lack of skill and precision involved (most of the time, anyway). But the one thing I always remember and still acknowledge is that it's always real. There's times I don't always find the right word. There's other times I can't string together a comprehensible thought to save my life. But I know that at the moment of writing, it's something that needs to get out, and so I "speak" in gray type on a black background. Funny... light impressed upon the darkness... if that's not a metaphor...

And so. 

T