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