Do I...

... run through hell and hope the devil doesn't catch me
Or do I simply let it wrap it's flaming hands around me
Can I keep up the running with fire upon my back
And can I keep on moving forward to avoid the eternal black

***

When I wrote those lines, I had a country song in my head. Yes, a country song. I don't have the slightest clue who sings it, even though it would only take a perusal of my ITunes or a google search to locate the tidbit, but since I'm mentally and emotionally exhausted, I can't be bothered. It sings, "If you're going through hell, keep on going. Don't slow down... you might get out before the devil even knows you're there." Or something near that. And today, I feel like I'm going through hell. It's really just been one of the most miserable days I've had to deal with in quite a long time. Even the good stuff had it's downside. I just need sleep.

To K...

Is it ever going to be even slightly easy again? I'm so tired of being kicked and trod upon that I just don't know what to do anymore. Or even if I should care. I'm just exhausted. And I keep looking for signs from you to show me that maybe I have this all wrong... but I never get that omen. Just ravens and owls and black-caped men lingering in the fog.

T

Sunday night rhythms

I had a dream that the symmetry
And these painted scenes and these colours schemes
Would inspire a sense of sympathy
And return things to what they used to be

The strange thing is, that this inspiration
Had too little time to reach maturation
When fifty six minutes was nothing more
Than fleeting smoke at a long-dead celebration

I've packed it all up in these small cardboard cases
In newspaper wrapping, and into compact spaces
Taped up the corners and gone through the paces
To hide all the hurt that appears on our faces

We're a canyon apart... but a cloud close together
And little is left but to discuss the weather
We once lived as if we were birds of a feather
But only I remain, a lone bird in the heather

I guess that it's time that you assert that you're freed
From the shackles of us, and the burdens, and the need
You have all you want, so please, take the lead
And take on all the feathers of the bird that you see.

On I will shuffle, slowly I'll go...
What the journey will look like, it's too soon to know.
What I hope for at the end of this ebb and this flow
Is that you find some beauty in the scars that I show.

T

No title

There's been times I've medicated myself
Against the cold and against the quiet
To make the sleep come more quickly,
When I'm trying my best to hide it.
But when I slip into that bed
I know the truth remains...
The quiet is what will stay the same
Until you've finally decided.

I've heard you say that you don't like
This darker side of me.
Is there another way which I can turn
Which will satisfy or appease?
I thought that honesty was best
When trying to face the day.
But in turn you turn yourself inward
And push me further away.

You saying you're trying, darling,
But have you given me a chance?
Or have you simply found a new cocoon,
A place to call your nest?
It seems like you've just insulated you
Against all that we used to be
In order to find yourself a new,
More exciting way to see.

All of your decisions,
Well, baby, they keep hurting me,
Even as I attempt to recall
How I used to love you tenderly.
You're seeking new ways to prove
That you can do it on your own
But in this attempt to prove yourself,
You've left me all alone.

I wonder if there's even a chance
That you'll finally find a way
To compromise and find me
With you at the end of the day.
Every day you put us off
Is another day I believe
That you're giving up all we had
And all we pledged to believe.

My love, when did you give up on
The promise of you and me?

T

Where we find ourselves

The last year has seen a great deal of transition in my own life and the lives of those around me.

Before I get to everything else, congratulations to my friend L.G. (Ciboulette), who just publicly announced that she's been avoiding bloggo-world because she's pregnant! That's awesome, so congrats to you and Mr. G!!!

This is just one of the things that has happened in the past year that has proven to me over and over again that I'm experiencing an extreme state of flux. Friends are in med school and law school, friends are getting married and getting pregnant, my family has seen a great deal of change, and most obviously I've experienced maybe a day or two of uncertainty and randomness in the past year (think job situation, marital situation, location situation).

I'm hesitant to put a judgment on any of this change, other than I realize it's a necessity of life... you know, "life goes on", and all that other rubbish. But it's just been amazing to me that I seem to have stumbled upon a time when nothing is certain except change itself. I'm watching my life change around me, and I'm both extremely excited for, and exceptionally weary of, what will happen next. In a lot of ways, I seem to be finding some sort of clarity in my life when all things in it are chaotic. I've heard of research that says being around moving water initiates some sort of neural connections and that people often think better around moving water. The way things are going, I'd say that the constant movement of the world around me is enough to provide the same sort of awareness.

I haven't come to a huge number of steadfast conclusions, but I have a better idea of what my life is going to be like, and what is important for me. I still haven't gotten a handle on all of my emotions, especially relating to my separation and my uncertainties about my chosen career path that I'm planning to pursue in the fall, but I'm starting to form ideas. One day at a time.

On a somewhat separate but somewhat related topic, I am planning to run the BMO Vancouver 1/2 marathon at the beginning of May with a friend and her partner. I've been trying to get out running at least 2-3 days a week, and I actually just got back in a little while ago from my now-regular Saturday morning trail run. It was pouring rain and dark outside my window this morning, and I really considered calling my Saturday cohort to cancel, but I knew that it would pay off if I just dragged my backside out of bed. And again I wasn't disappointed. Even running in the muddy rainy-ness that was today out at Thetis Lake park, the smell of wet foliage and fresh mud were enough to keep me going. I have hopes to start doing some kayaking at one point soon (I've never been before), so I'll attempt to keep up to date on that venture.

Although there is still cloud outside my window, there's a big delicious day out there waiting for me. Until again...

T

To the one I love

I guess I was just moved by the sentiment of the music back when you believed this to be a fitting song. We'd spent time apart before, but it felt unavoidable. We were both sorting out our paths in life, even as we walked them together. I guess that's how it feels to you. My main problem is we aren't on the same road together anymore... or, at least if we are, I can't see you through the fog and the darkness. I'm scared about the fact that we're going to have to start over, you and I, because we've been apart for so long. I can't simply come running back to you, like I thought I would when I walked out the door. The deep cuts need to be stitched slowly, but even though it's a long road ahead, I hope to walk it with you.

I indulge in life's mysteries a lot of days. I borrowed a mixed CD froma friend, and after one of the longest weeks of my life this week, I started playing the music on this gift from a friend. Since it wouldn't be right, and it just wouldn't be my life if something so coincidental didn't take place, and it just wouldn't fit if something so intensely personal to you and I didn't came on, that's exactly what happened. You and I both grew in love to this song and with this song. And now it's a song that speaks to me, and I hope that it's you singing the words. K, if you come by here, please listen to the song and to the lyrics, and find yourself in their sentiment. It makes me sad at the same time as making me hopeful. So...

Just press play.

T

Maybe

Maybe I have it all wrong
But I wish you'd set it right
and tell me how it is.
All I really want to know
is how we can find a way
To make it right again.
I refuse to let the sadness creep in
For more than a minute or two
Because I feel like it wants to stick around
And make itself at home in my misery
And not let me alone.

As I barred the door against the melancholy
Anger crept through the window quiet
At night... through the dark draughts carried
Into me by the winds of doubt and angst and silence.

And by the breaths of your rejection.

You say I've turned bitter and cold
But I've been trying to shut out the chills
Of this darkness, of this winter, of this rage
For days and days and days.

Why can't I just let it all go?
It's getting too heavy to carry this load alone.

Stumbled across some lyrics from my past

"There's a bird that nests inside you
Sleeping underneath your skin
When you open up your wings to speak
I wish you'd let me in"
- A Murder of One
(Adam Duritz, Counting Crows)

Also, this made me smile... Counting Crows and Hootie covering an old Dylan song...

Go...

HERE.

And listen.

T

Spilling over... not completely coherent, but words are written

Don't mistake no news for good news
Since I know that hearing nothing is the hardest thing to hear.
Don't mistake thoughts about you
For good thoughts, or happy thoughts,
Because in my own estimation, those thoughts can be thoughts
About not knowing what to do and wondering if it's worth it all.
Don't think that my distance
is a means to another end
Because I think I've figured out
that this is a common, constant trend.
And don't assume you know my thoughts, because baby, if you do,
Then you may that we're on the cusp of facing a lose-lose.

I come here to be quiet,
I come here to be sad,
Because I don't let the quiet
Drive me wholly mad.
Sadness is a leaky dyke
That can cause the waters to break
So I simply try to not indulge
The sadness while I wake.
But here's a place of comfort
Of silent self-concern
Where I can be just a little sad,
A place where I can yearn.
Because I'm waking up each morning
And wondering about the day
And wondering if I'll ever retrieve the girl
Who stole my heart away.
I guess that's just what happens
When you give your love a chance.
Does the future rests within my grip?
Or is it happenstance?

T

A Full-Circle Story... by/from a friend

A close friend of mine recently sent this story to Stuart McLean in hopes of having him read it for one of his contests. She sent it to me (because, as I'm sure you could've guessed, I was extremely intrigued by the statement, "... this story I sent to Stuart McLean...) and after reading it and connecting very closely to it, I asked her if I could share it here. So, here it is. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did (and as much as Stuart McLean will).

***

The beginning of the circle starts at Pier 21 in Halifax in the year of 1949. My mother, who was born in Salzburg, Austria, came to Canada as a baby by boat with my grandparents. They took the train across the whole of Canada to the opposite coast, and the rest of what was to become a very big family grew up in Williams Lake, British Columbia, where my grandmother built up her own little “Austria in the woods”.

To skip a big section of the story, my mother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis some years ago, and it developed so quickly that she is now in a wheelchair, living in a full-care nursing home where she, a relatively young woman, is nearly fully dependant on others for her care. I haven’t a clue how she does it, but she actually just smiles and laughs her way through each day and delights in all of life’s small joys. She even laughs at her disabilities. I ask, “Mami, what kind of memory exercises did you do with Papi today (Papi is my father)?” Long pause. Then she answers, “I can’t remember… What kind of games did we do?” and then we both laugh about the roaring success of these “memory exercises”.

I left the West Coast to go to Halifax to do my master’s at Dalhousie University which already tickled my mother and grandmother pink, but when I found out that our graduation party in December 2008 was to be held at Pier 21, we were all very excited. One of my many uncles called to say the family was trying to arrange to have my mother come out to Halifax for the celebration but that they needed my help on the East Coast end to arrange it. In the end, two cousins, an aunt, my grandmother, my mother, and our favourite care aid for my mother all came out from BC for the research presentation and graduation party in Halifax.

BUT… Canadian weather put a kink in our plans, as everyone except my grandmother missed a connecting flight due to fog. I sat in my room after hearing the news, anxious about my presentation the next morning and disappointed that they would not be there after all. The morning of our presentations, I looked around hopefully but did not see my family. When called, I walked up to do my presentation, turned around to begin, and saw the whole family entourage coming down the aisle toward me, fashionably late, as usual. The crowd giggled, and some friends told me later they shed a tear, as I had been talking about my aunt, cousins, grandmother, mother, and mother’s care aid coming for weeks… for months! I caught my breath and presented with them in front of me after all.

The celebration at Pier 21 was such a joy. My friends, as well as the staff and faculty of our school, truly made my family feel as if they were being received as royalty, and I will be forever grateful for that. Neither my mother nor grandmother had been back to Halifax since immigrating in 1949, and my grandfather passed away before he had the chance to go back himself. As we sat at our dinner table looking at the Austrian flag hanging over our heads, raising our glasses and singing “Ein Prosit,” I thought how perfectly wonderful this celebration was, how certain things can just fall into place to create the most meaningful of experiences. We danced the night away, my mother spinning around in her wheelchair and lasting well past midnight, and spent the next day browsing through the beautiful museum that now stands in the place of the old, original Pier 21. The staff there was also incredibly kind and generous. They kept Pier 21 open for us past closing hours, and one gentleman even snuck my grandmother a gift: a framed picture of the boat on which she came to Canada.

So, there you have this funny little full-circle story. Those were the most beautiful four days I could have imagined.

By D. Von Platen

Sometimes...

... it just hurts so bad
And sometimes, I shed quiet tears in the night
Without anyone knowing how truly broken I feel
And how the waiting is more than a knife, more than a gun.

I woke up one morning
And walked across the world
Just a bag and some fear in hand
Having no clue of what was to come
Arriving in a strangers land
Without a clue of where to go
But clasping a familiar hand
We walked bravely though the rain and snow
To a place that promised to take us
To a place we could pretend
That was warm and familiar and new,
And was just a little like home.

Twenty years of security
And meals thrice a day
I wondered how I'd feed myself
And how I'd find my way
But I kept on waking up
Wondering what to make of life
And what to do with the opportunity
To make it all seem right

So I walked on, my love
I walked on
And now I'm alone again
And so I just walk on
I walked on, my dear
I walked on
And now I'm here it's cold again
But still I just walk on.

I arose another morning
In another foreign land
Not sure of where to put my feet,
Was it water or was it land?
All I knew was my restlessness
My need to drink in the day
Like a thirst that had gripped me since my birth
And awakenend my destiny

So I walked on, my girl,
I walked on
My shadow at my side
I walked on, bella
I walked on
Assured of my stride

So here I am a lifetime later
Just fighting to wake for morning sun.
Bouts of nostalgia make me smile
Make me live, and make me run
But no longer am I running
From the fear that kept me at bay
This time I keep on running
To make sure I seize the day

I walk on, my love
I walk on
Not fearing whatever may come
I walk on, my soul,
I walk on,
I keep on 'til the day is done.

Can you find me in this darkness
Or are you having too much trouble finding yourself
With your own hands and eyes?
I try to dress up for the cold
But what does it matter when I'm left outside
Knocking at the doors for days
and days
and days.
Sometimes I wonder if I'll be your biggest regret,
Or if, when I'm gone, you'd wish for me to return.
But right now I don't know if I'm staying or leaving
And I don't know where to abandon the sadness
To escape the shivering up my spine that's been haunting me
Ever since you told me not to come home.
I don't know how to convince you of our love
Or how to prove to you that I'm worthy our your love
And your faith
And the promises we made so many months ago.
I've tried my hardest to wait out the rain
But I can't get warm... it's just too damn cold
Everywhere I go.
I live in moments now where I forget about the chill
And I ignore the crows outside my window
Even though I see the murder waiting just beyond the door.
So here I am again
Not knowing what's inside and what's out
Or what to do about
Much of anything in my life.
So I sit, and try to sleep, and try to find some light
On my horizon.
It's just so dark
And so damn cold
I wonder if I'll ever sleep again.

T

Bringing me down...

Gravity

Gravity is working against me.
And gravity wants to bring me down.
I'll never know what makes a man
With all the love his heart can stand
Dream of ways to throw it all away.

Gravity is working against me.
And gravity wants to bring me down.
Twice as much ain't twice as good
And can't sustain like one-half could.
It's wanting more that's gonna send me to my knees.

Gravity, stay the hell away from me.
And gravity has taken better men than me.
But how could that be?
Just keep me where the light is.
Just keep me where the light is.

Come on keep me where the light is.
Come on keep me where the light is...

- John Mayer

Words to celebrate an inauguration

Stolen from L who stole it from Kelly. One of my favourite poets. There's a new face to things for our friends south of the border.

I, too, sing America
- by Langston Hughes

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed -

I, too, am America.

Night-time scribblings

I used to write poems for strangers, for friends,
sitting above swimming pools at institutions of higher learning,
lounging in coffee shops looking out on the wind-blown streets
and overlooking the dry river valleys below.
Now I write under rainy skies and look out on ocean views,
staring out into the water to see if love's found it's way back to me.
In the meantime, while I endlessly wait,
I write poems about that meantime, the in-between time,
words which fill that space between
fearing and wondering and knowing what's to come...
poems about the quiet, about what's left, about what may never come,
singing to myself,
as I fade into my own memories,
as I dance alone in a burning room*.

* reference to "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" by John Mayer


So I see you carrying that fire inside... but how will you put it to use?
Will you light the candles of others and spread some light around?
Or will it be the fire that burns you and consumes you from within?

Where...

Have you ever been told not to mistake motion for action?
Or that you shouldn't pursue simple self-satisfaction?
For there are bigger things out there, and more to pursue
But the more you acquire means there's much more to lose.

Can I sleep off the lonely?
Can I shrug off the cold?
Can I outrun the anger
And break from the mold?
You hold on to your rage
Like a gun by your side
While licking your wounds
And maintaining your pride.
But when will I come back
Into focus for you?
Or are you trying to tell me
It's over, we're through?
I beg for your words
Like salvation, like rain.
But I receive just the silence,
The void, and the pain.
Will ever you find
What you lost in the start
Of all this bitterness
Or will you simply depart?

I've asked the question and had people respond as to whether one needs to be happy on one's own before they can be happy with someone else. I think the respondants reflected what I was thinking... that a strong sense of self is necessary (or, at the very least, quite useful) before embarking on the pursuit of a common life. So I keep wondering... have you met... you? And if so, do you like what you see?

And if you don't, where does
that
leave
me?

Here

After nearly two weeks of virus-related issues (both physically and in my computer), I now have my internet access back again. I'll be around in coming days with more to say. Alas, the night is here and slumber awaits. Until then...

T

Buying in

We walk through life with mantras by our side... these undeniable, obviously fundamental philosophies on life that are unchangeable. We keep them securely in our pockets, ready for action whenever needed. They shape our decisions, and we live by their dictates. We say, "This is what life is supposed to look like," or, "I need this above anything." We all have them... some of us take on more subtle ones, and others state them for the world. Some are founded in moralist qualities that take on sports analogies ("It's not about whether you win or lose, but how you play the game"). Others take on more universal approaches ("It's all about balance in life"... you'll catch me saying this). Whatever the case, we buy into these personal outlooks and shape our lives accordingly.

But what happens when what we've told ourselves is something that is just simply untrue? Or, at least not true for everyone? And what if it becomes so hardened within our resolve to act in a certain way that we cannot see outside the tunnel? How is light supposed to squeak in when the blinds are so tightly fastened?

I've been thinking a lot on this, and the only thing I can conclude is that sometimes we need to believe that an outsider's perspective, whether wanted or unwanted, can be enlightening. Without going into the details, I would love it if some people would weigh in on this question:

Do you have to be happy on your own before you can be happy with another person? Or is it possible to find personal happiness within the framework of a common happiness?

Let me know. And if my two or three readers can refer people to answer this question too, I'd really appreciate it.

T

Newness

Arriving, like a fresh sheet of innocence draped over the city
Hiding away the blemishes and mistakes.
Sadness arrives alongside this sheet of innocence,
Knowing that it only takes days to turn into an ugly mess
Where the serenity is abandoned in place of a marked world.
The same happens with the season...
In the beginning, there is hope and friendship
In lights
In colours
In song
In quiet moments
But the quiet is soon disregarded as frivolous
And instead of basking in moments, frittering aimlessly
There are deadlines and schedules that arise
Like schoolmasters and pencil pushers.
Why so fleeting, this sense of rebirth?
How does it become so easy to be dragged to the depths of motion
Where it's easy to forget about
The need to stop for brief seconds and simply look around
When calendars and itineraries await to dictate the day?

T

Musing

You used to always tell me that I smelled like the outside
Like the world out there, so cluttered and uncertain
Not like the world inside...
Where things can be ordered, expected.
You liked to tell me you liked the outdoors
But I think you liked the idea more than the reality
Because the reality was untidy
Messy
Unpredictable.
This was the worst part... the unpredictability.
You couldn't plan or forsee everything that was to come
Whether it was a mouse
Or a mosquito looking for blood
Or simply a crackle in the bushes
And you couldn't step outside yourself long enough to know
That in this uncertainty is life
Is experience
Is that which is worth living for
And that which is memorable.

When do we even remember the plans for something we did?

The memories are in the doing
This is also where the learning lies.

A plan is helpful, and often necessary.
We all need maps and directions from time to time.
But it's driving that is life.
The action.

You've been waiting for a chance to take life by the throat
To wrangle it by the scruff of the neck
Confidently
With strength.
But it's been beside you all along
Holding your hand
Waiting for you to lead
Now you realize that you need to walk and move forward
In some semblance of your own direction
But you continue to turn... round... in circles.

But why not? Sure. It makes sense.
Circles are just so tidy.

And if you never go anywhere, can you really get lost?
I guess only if you were lost to begin with.

T