there was a man on the bus with
bags and bags and bags.
he was talking to anyone who would listen,
friendly, fascinating.

i got tearful,
because i missed the familiarity of
being part of this downtown.
of it being my home.

in moving, she said its familiarity she missed most.
i would say its community.
but they aren't far apart.

i miss having 'my' places...
where i know the best coffee,
the cheapest curry, the friendliest faces.

i miss walking downtown and being known.

familiarity.

in a big city its hard to find.
even hard in transition.

there is value in change and exploration.
beauty in discovering new things.
meeting new people.
having new adventures.

but nothing can replace the familiarity of your community.
of knowing and being known.
of the strangers being familiar still.

i wouldn't trade these new experiences,
but i grow in appreciation for what i've left behind.
and have a greater understanding of why
people crave being settled.

i don't want to be settled.
but this unsettled feeling that comes with transition
does not feel particularly comfortable either.

and yet, as soon as i am with familiar faces,
i lose some of this anxiety,
settle into the safety of relationship,
rather than the comfort of place.

but its being alone. in a new place.
without the time to commit,
or the friends to engage.

i feel disconnected from the community,
a passerby... nomad... on my way through...
not a part of. here or there.
its early on, and its a choice made...
but that does not mean its always comfortable.

if one familiar face were to walk by,
i'd feel immensely more at rest.
i'd know that i had a place.
even in the midst of this transition.

quiet time ramblings...

i'm in the continual process of learning how to sit by myself.
sit with myself.
stay inside of myself.

i fill my life with people.
don't have too many silent moments.
i'm not good with 'alone time'

i'm not really sure what it is...
if the silence is scary.
if what i see within is not enough,
or too much.

but i prefer to be talking... listening... watching...
rather than meditating, thinking, being.

so when i've had too much caffeine
and have a day to myself...
it feels overwhelming,
suffocating... endless.

i think ahead to the next few weeks,
of being in this big city,
alone in the days...
trying to fill time...
to stay sane.

i have work to do,
i thought that would be enough,
fill my mind enough...
but i still get so antsy, so lonely,
so sick of my own company.

even just to have someone to sit beside
when i'm reading,
to work in silence yet together...

i feel like there must be something wrong with me.
i mean, i can frame it positively 'i'm an extrovert'
but i think that there is something lacking here...
something that needs to be filled...
or something that needs to be left empty once in a while...

how do you cultivate this skill without going crazy?

musings from an empty house

i'm so tired.

i was standing at a checkout counter
when someone came in and starting
giving me a shoulder massage.
i almost cried/fell asleep/..........

it just made me realize
that on days like today,
when i feel so tired and so drained,
i am most vulnerable.

that i feel like i would curl up in bed
with anyone. almost.
days when i wish i had someone to come home to
some days when lovely roommates aren't enough.

i know it'll be a long time coming.
and some days i'm good with that
(usually when i'm not the 3rd, 5th or 7th wheel)
but other days, i'm tired of it.

tired of being tired alone.
tired of running around and having no one to run to.
tired of feeling spent and no one to be spent with.
tired of being so tired all the time.

and i know it would complicate my life.
and i know i'm probably too needy right now.
and i know that the ways things are is probably for the best.
and i know and i know and i know.

but i feel alone.
even though in this exact moment (.now.)
i feel content.
happy to watch grey's anatomy, cry, fall asleep.

but sometimes just knowing that tomorrow is another day.
and i'll be sitting here at the end of it
with a computer on my lap
in the quiet of an empty house.

it was the massage that set me off.
a reminder of what was lacking.
or of what would be nice right now.
but it was a moment. and its gone.

a new season as the leaves are blown off the trees...

i said i felt stirrings.
a new season.
beginnings of a journey.

today i went to church.
2x.
(superchristian).

the 2nd one was about pain.
psalm 88.
about suicide and mental health and babies dying.
about addictions. and brokenness. and helplessness.
a father's cry for his daughter.

in the dimmed lights.
i cried (as we all did).
and i felt the pain.
of my friend sitting nearby and his buried burden.
of my friend buried. beaten.
of those who beat him, broken.

and i felt a taste of the pain that so many i work with carry.
the pain they've carried for their lives.
of loss. of their own potential loss of life.
of the recent and inevitable yet sudden loss of a friend.
i felt like i could finally feel some of that pain.
and realized how deep it could feel.

i have lived a very sheltered life.
i have not felt a lot of deep pain on a personal level.
my experience of suffering is limited.
and most often 2nd or 3rd hand.

so when i have been faced with the suffering of others,
i have not ever truly understood.
even though i had glimpses.
and could relate to some of the universal experiences.

but on a visceral level, it was not real to me.
and even now, i have not felt the true depths of pain. of loss.
a beginning.

and today.
sitting in the back chair. my knees curled to my chest.
i felt that i was about to enter a season of pain.
and in that one moment, i felt peace.
i felt that if i could make it through, there would be hope.
and that if i were to ever truly hold hope for others,
i would have to learn it through deep suffering.

not that suffering would happen to teach me a lesson.
but that if i were to choose hope in the midst, somehow.
that i could be there on the other side to be present for others.

and maybe it was just a moment.
and i hope so.
because it scares the shit out of me.
in that moment, i said that i would welcome whatever comes.
and i asked to be held to make it through.

i hope i'm being overdramatic.
or that i'm on the end of this journey.
but i have a feeling its just beginning.
and life is full of suffering so its inevitable that i'm going to have to endure it.
but what if its my family?
what if its too hard... and what if i can't make it through?

i have no idea.
and the moment has passed.
but by writing this down,
i have a small reminder.
of what may be to come.

God rest upon us.

stirrings

i think i am about to start a spiritual journey.
i am starting. i have started.

i feel i am ready for this.
excited even.

i think its time to stop just existing. and holding on.
to begin to search again for hope.
to learn how to hold hope for others,
not just problem solve.

it will require a lot of contemplation.
a lot of learned meditation.
and maybe some dancing...
(and possibly roller derby).

i don't kid myself that it will happen quickly.
or ever end. or even be apparent.

but i know that something has to change.
and i have to start making some changes.
and i know i need some help on the way.

so i'm excited....
maybe i'll use this as a forum to reflect on...
or maybe paper is better, we'll see...
but. i want to make sure i don't just let it slip away.

obsessed?

i always seem to do this
and it doesn't matter that i am older
and theoretically wiser.

as soon as there is the possibility of a boy
as soon as the slightest interest is shown
i turn all of my attention and
mental energy towards thoughts of this possibility.

the idea of playing it cool.
or even of being pursued,
is completely lost on me.
i just keep pushing forward and trying
and trying and trying.

trying to contact.
via text. email. telepathy.

and when my attempts are not reciprocated,
i begin to obsess, to question, to doubt.
even before there is even a tangible possibility,
i am already imagining all of the options,
fortunetelling the future.
trying to will it into being.

i wish i could relax. just wait and see...
see if i even WANT to pursue something,
rather than being more intrigued by the possibility
than by the reality of my heart. of my plans.

basically, i just want there to be a possibility.
especially a far away possibility.
to have someone who i can focus on.
obsess about.
and, ideally, who is equally obsessed with me.
(ok, maybe enamoured, rather than obsessed).

but i don't take the time.
i just keep texting, even with no reply.
and getting more and more discouraged.
more disillusioned with myself,
with love. with men.

i feel like i'm in high school again.
having passed a note to a boy in class,
sitting staring at the blackboard,
trying not to notice if he's writing back or not.

why do i allow my emotions to be dictated by another,
especially when the other does not have a clue
that they hold so much sudden sway in my life.

maybe i am not well differentiated...
just pushed and pulled by externals...
my emotions constantly manipulated by
my own mind's perceptions of another.

i don't even know if this possibility is a possibility.
or if i would even want the possibility to become reality.
yet i can't stop thinking, focusing, drifting...
wishing he would respond so i could be in touch...
rather than waiting, trying not to seem desperate.

i am the least in control and logical in these situations.
i lose any wisdom i may have.
don't take my own advice.

i am single-minded. obsessed. alone.
lonely.

i found something written a while ago...

curled up on the couch.
unresponsive. fetal.
the caked on blood covered by one small plastic bandaid.
drool drips onto the sofa,
mingled with blood,
its origins unknown.
an empty green bottle of Imperial sherry
lies nearby,
kept company by 3 empty tall boys of beer
and a half dozen unopened ones.
a mobster movie plays quietly in the background.
Rogers. On Demand.

he can't sit up to greet us.
can't light his own cigarrette.
a pizza box is by the door.
he ordered it for us, and wings.
keeps asking if he paid me for the smokes,
for the eggs.
wants to buy us Tim Hortons,
pay for a cab ride home.
it is a bleak image. a painful one.
accompanied by the scent of urine and stale beer.
the immaculate apartment is in disarray.
the floor and the bathroom covered with smeared blood.

i love this man.
and i have to leave.
i can only come and go.
i have to ignore the plaintiff phone calls.
the manipulation that comes from loneliness.
the desperate struggle of survival.
a life spent fighting.
physical beatings and formidable determination.
terrified of confinement, of restraints.
too many dark days in the hole.
spent alone. solitary.

i need to take more risks.
i don't like this gloved existence.
he feels like a leper.
Hep C, the modern untouchables.
death lingers in the air.
not too close, but present.
a reminder.
no one wants to die alone.
no one wants to be dying alone.

the cigarette ash falls.
his eyes close again.
we say goodbye.
promise to come back Thursday.
to finish watching 'Young Guns.'
today he mentions the future.
today there were no threats of jumping off the balcony,
no demands for the keys to be returned.
maybe this means there is a glimmer of hope?
or the physical pain hasn't quite become unbearable.

i don't feel disgusted by the blood,
but i feel calloused to the cries.
this sense of his life and death hovers over me,
the corners of my eyes contain gentle tears.
brought out by music or silence.
he has lived his life alone. mostly.
i feel privileged to be a part of this ,
but its going to be really hard when he dies.
there are funny, happy stories too. but not today.
i hope we can still write them down.
i don't want him to die alone.
don't want him to be forgotten...

reflections on 'sowing and sexuality'

my feet are filthy and there's dirt under my fingernails.

black soil and remnants of charred asparagus...

today we finally planted. and i feel reminded of my lack of faith,

my inability to trust that things will grow. 

my overall pessimism with the world

and the way things are and the way they could be. 

thinking about sexuality

about wanting to give and receive - not just pleasure but life.

knowing that patience and rain are essential. 

trusting the sun and the darkness.

i realize again that i am lazy. 

i would rather sip beer on the deck than dig up hard soil. 

i want things to grow - and eat the fruits - 

but not do the work that is required.

wanting to find intimacy the easy way - and on my terms.

cheap and convenient. 

i want to cheat the process, literally. 

to go where i know i can find temporary satiation for my desires. 

like fast food. greasy fries that sit heavy in my stomach 

and harden my arteries, 

but are so tempting and satisfying in the moment.

wanting to pour out the pent up parts of me that seem so disconnected.

unhealthy weeds that lurk beneath the surface.

or maybe they are seeds waiting to germinate?

hibernating for years in the dark.

i reflect and wish that i too could find an outlet 

for my sexuality in a way that gives life, 

both to me and beyond.

wanting to share life in a deep way.

to set down roots, 

not into soil but into the life of another - 

so that we grow together and feed each other.

but right now i am still alone and unsatisfied.

despite wonderful friends and a beautiful backyard. 

despite laughs over beers on a patio and 

a job where i get to love people (some days). 

so many parts of me just feel unhealthy.

i don't know how to find faith or hope. 

and i don't feel like i have the time or patience 

to just sit back and trust anymore. 

i keep getting hurt and hurting others. 

like a dog going back to vomit.

people keep saying not to settle for less. 

that i'm worth more. 

at the end of the day though, where do i express these desires?

and how can i be fulfilled? 

to know that i'm not alone.

to know that i'm ok?

and those things i still don't know... 

and i don't feel like there are enough voices 

passing along wisdom for this journey. 

learning the hard way often seems to be the only way. 

continually learning through painful stupid mistakes

seems to be the only thing that makes me take action.

and that causes me enough grief to stop and reflect. 

and maybe that is the only way.

maybe the other options are too guarded. 

too safe. too many walls. 

but still, this is a lonely journey, despite the many who walk it.

some days i just get tired of walking alone.