the great and the not so great

I've been amazed by technology these last few days. Yesterday the dentist took a full set of x-rays from all kinds of crazy angles. It was fascinating. And before you even try; no, I don't want to know why my neck warranted a protective shield but the rest of me didn't. Particularly given that the focus of the x-ray radiowhatever was my head, you know, the place that houses my brain.

Today I revisited the heart doctor where, good news, I learned that my heart is where it should be. I can confirm this fact, I got to see it in action. I felt such tenderness, such affection for the little thing. I was mentally cheering it on - go little heart go - it works so hard. I watched the muscles contract and valves flap busily away from all angles. It even came with a soundtrack, sounded kind of like what I imagine it would sound like in space.

On the not so amazing side, this article from today's paper which has been irritating me all day: "Cave blondes did have more fun". All kinds of nonsense about how since cave men were busy hunting and dying of starvation on the tundra there was a shortage of men so, in the competition for partners, women with blond hair stood out and attracted more suitors because of their different appearance.

Notwithstanding the image I have in my head of very happy cavepeople camps where the children played, the women laughed and they all nibbled happily on fruit, nuts and...green stuff; this article is irritating because of the small print at the end of the article reading: "this study was sponsored by a shampoo company".

Hm. Shampoo-sponsored research revealing that blondes had more fun. Imagine that?

it was the weather

Many years ago when I was travelling in Cambodia I met Nina, the most fabulous English woman, also travelling alone. She had sold her house, left her job, picked up and begun vagabonding as soon as her son left home for university. We met on the plane to Phenom Penh and travelled together for a short while.

At 57 years old and a tiny slip of a woman, Nina inspired me. She appeared unassuming, even timid looking, but nothing could have been further from the truth. She was mischevious, wry, brave and so happy to be where she was 25 years after the travel bug initially seized her. I felt that she had been put in my path to correct my notion of timing. At the time, I was very preoccupied with notions of what I 'should' be doing as I approached 30: the 'proper' time to get married, 'proper' time to settle down, and 'proper' time to just get serious about life. Because life is very serious stuff isn't it? Nina was part of a growing wave of influences that helped me realize that this notion of timing, of the right and wrong time to do things, was not static but different for everyone. Seems pretty logical now but, at the time, it was news to me.

I wondered about Nina, about what made her pick up and leave at that point in her life. Whatever it was, I hoped that I would have her courage to pay attention to my dreams and act on them no matter what my age. I was reminded of her tonight when a slip of paper fell to the floor as I shifted my travel journals. I must have asked her what motivated her to travel because written on the back of a Phenom Penh guesthouse receipt was this:

"By the way - I asked Nina what prompted her to finally pick up and go travelling and she said 'It was the weather' ".

Funny what it all comes down to sometimes isn't it?

bye february

I used to work as a special needs therapist with a boy who, once he'd grasped that saying "Goodbye" indicated endings, that someone was leaving, used to greet me at the door with the words "bye becca", hoping to head off the work that was to follow. To this day when I'm faced with something or someone that I'm finding difficult, those words pop into my head in almost the exact same petulant, querulous five year old voice that he would use. Along those lines: bye February.

It's been a challenging month where, more often than I'd like, I've felt controlled, stuck and trapped all of which are my 'red flag' feelings, the ones that chase whatever equilibrium I may have away quicker than anything else I can think of. The humbling part of it is that this came from one area of my life only: work. Organizing my leave and negotiating my end date was a long, drawn out process but outside of work, life has been knock-on-wood wonderful. And I knew that things at work would work out. So why did I allow that one challenge to stress me out so much?

So very humbling because just when I think I may have a grasp on things, that I may be learning something about staying in the moment, not getting caught up in the drama, breathing through the difficult times something happens - a mirror is offered - and I realize that I may be pretty good at doing all of those great 'in the moment' things when life is going well but when something important to me is challenged I'm still pretty quick to lose it. One step forward, two steps back. I'll get there.

Things did get resolved at work, and very well at that. I have a year long leave of absence beginning April 7th and, even with the challenge of sorting out my leave, everything has fallen into place so incredibly well that it's been a powerful reminder that when it's right - it works

happy friday everyone :)

Pretty smart guy, that Carl

Given that I've never actually been asked any such questions, I've given my response to queries such as "If you could invite any 5 people to dinner, who would they be?" or "If you had the opportunity to meet anyone, alive or dead, who would you choose?" a shocking amount of thought.

I think it's because I've heard others answer and, no matter what their response, it always seemed better than what I come up with: a big, vacuous, cowed by the infinite possibilities response of "I don't know". Either they pick someone touching, like a family member, and I feel like a heel for not having thought of that myself or they go for some iconic figure and I feel like an imbecile for not having the foggiest idea of who they're referring to.

A few days ago I came across this quote that I'd written down a lifetime ago:

"One can be filled with that spirit of divine discontent which forces all free people to face some new discovery or to live their lives in a new way"

I copied it from Man and His Symbols by Carl Jung and faint recollections from lectures attended and books read about Jung have been bubbling to the surface ever since.

That he advised ignoring science texts and 'wandering the world with a human heart' to truly gain knowledge of the human soul. His belief in synchronicity and the collective unconscious. The way he discussed his views on the human psyche interchangeably with references to mythology, philosophy, and religion. That he looked to dreams and creativity for insight into our 'inner space'. His absolute belief in the importance of symbolism. The very fact that rediscovering the quote above helped soothe my absolute impatience at waiting until April to be free...I finally have an answer: I'd like to have dinner with Carl Jung, please.

Divine discontent. What a beautiful way of putting it. Now, if only I can get the cantankerous, frustrated, impatient child screaming "now, now NOW" that seems to have taken over my 'inner space' to listen - that would be something.

hearts

Vday completely slipped past me today until I received this poem from my sister, Ekah, who writes better than I think even she knows

Hearts have retractable compartments
Depending on what is said
Drawers pull back
Depending on what is asked
A vice wraps round

Tones change
And with conversation;

He holds her hand for the first time
She makes him cry for the last time.

Up down
Open closed

Hearts are fearful
And complex
Sometimes overflowing

But in between there is laughing

He loosens
She undoes

And something beautiful spills out

In strangely related news, I went to the heart doctor today (yes, that's the official name) for tests. After they had finished hooking me up to the echocardiographthingy there was great concern because the machine wouldn't work. It died, went on strike, refused to light up, wouldn't work.

I've been feeling a bit stressed lately so I'm trying not to read too much into the fact that the heart machine broke when trying to test my heart. Instead, I'm going to assume that it's because my heart is just too big, too full and too fantastic for the damn machine to withstand. How appropriate on this, of all days :)

Happy VDay everyone

april 25, 1995

As I've been working to make sense of this strange paradox I'm in where I know life is good but itch for something more, I've been thinking about something I wrote when I graduated from university. Back when I thought graduation meant the end: that I was just a short skip and a jump from a house in the suburbs, mindless job and minivan full of screaming children. Terrified that that was my destiny, I wrote a note to myself, a promise of sorts, the day after my last exam.

It's been on my mind these last few weeks so I spent an evening browsing through 10 years of journals looking for the entry. I did find it, it's copied below, but I also found so much more. Like a reminder of what a dramatic child I was (my family is collectively rolling their eyes at this revelation, I know) but I was kind of funny too, and vulnerable and tentative, and lost but insightful at times. I wanted to go back and give that girl a great big hug, tell her it would all work out even though I know I wouldn't have listened anyway. It's a strange thing this life - we all need to learn in our own way at our own time. At any rate, the entry I'm speaking of follows:

April 25, 1995

Yesterday I wrote my last exam. A blitz of 3 all nighters in one week with too much stress, too few meals, too many cigarettes and I’m done.

I wanted to sit down and write about how I feel about graduating, but I don’t know what to say. I’ve been scared about it all term but now that’s its here, I’m not even scared. I’m sort of numb. I’m sure it will sink in sooner or later. Probably sooner.

I feel mute by the virtue of decision. I can do anything I want and I don’t think I want the choice. My life is spread out in front of me and I want merely to choose complacency and stability. There’s nothing wrong with that, if that's what I really want, but if I choose it out of fear, I can’t live with that and I’m afraid that’s what will happen to me.

I’ve been told that I expect too much. What does that mean exactly? I don't think you can ever expect 'too much'. If I expect it, it is what it is. It can’t be too much, can it?

I love school and there are things that I've learned here that I want to keep with me forever, but I can't think of them all right now. I do know two things I must remember:

1. never accept complacency – live
2. don't stop learning

I don’t ever want to just accept life the way it is. I want to love my life and, if I don’t, have the courage to change it. I see the easiness of getting a job, a car, bills to pay and being stuck in a rut. I never want that. I want to remember that, when life becomes mundane, I can always change it. I want to remember that I have so much to offer and I don't want to shortchange myself. I want to live, not just exist.

I guess that's what it's all about. It's time to stretch a little, to make some changes, to take a small step away from 'complacency' and one step towards 'live'.

missing: my imaginary friend

I've imagined someone into being my friend. We've never met, in fact, we've never been in the same room at the same time, but I see him every day and he's become a comforting constant in the fabric of this strange urban community I've created for myself.

Driving across the city in the early morning hours, I see the still-dark city in an entirely different light than I do during the day when the streets are alive with activity. I notice houses I've never seen before, street names that usually escape me, and my friend - the only other conscious person I encounter on my 5:30am trek across the city.

He sits in the only open coffee house on Bloor, always in the same spot in the front window, laptop open, staring intently at the screen. I wonder about him: Why so early? Is he a morning person or is he squeezing in a few hours before work? If so, what is he working on that inspires such dedication?

I know it's possible that he's programming or designing web pages or some such techy mumbo jumbo but I've imagined that he's a writer and that he's awake, writing so early, because he has to be. Because he absolutely can't imagine his day beginning any other way. Because the words won't wait 9 hours until work is finished to be spilled to paper. Each morning as I pass I look in and smile to see him there, embraced by the warm glow of the coffee shop, and send a silent good morning his way.

For two days now his spot in the window has been empty and I've missed him. I'm sure he's on vacation or having long, late, luxurious mornings but I've worried about him all the same.

shake, shake, shake

My lower right back has been growling at me lately and I've been so puzzled by it, what have I done? During today's practice I remembered that this happens every time I change things. New jobs, ending a relationship, returning home from a long trip, each is accompanied, without fail, by pain in my lower right back. Usually I expect it which is why I can't believe it took me so long to clue in this week. Of course it's hurting, today's the day I talk to work.

A friend recently compared my life to a snowglobe: even though it looks pretty when settled and calm, I can't seem to resist picking up the damn globe and shaking for all I'm worth. Accordingly, I've had plenty of opportunity to think about this strange thing that happens to my back when I'm caught up in my own personal storm.

The first time this happened a friend commented that the sacrum, where I experience pain, is referred to as the seat of life. I absolutely loved this - still do. It makes such intuitive sense to me that the physical impact of tossing my very cozy life into a state of upheaval would be experienced in my physical seat of life.

Along those lines, I recently learned that kundalini yoga refers to this area as Swadhisthana, or One's own abode, and understands life changes as a result of energy moving up through the chakras accompanied by the desire to move, reach out, grow and change. Check, check, check, and check to each of the above.

Remembering all of these things as I practiced this morning helped me respond with compassion, to be gentle and not force movement where all that's really needed is a bit of TLC instead of being frustrated over yet another 'injury'. It also made me smile - one's own abode - how lovely is that?

pain update

Work is still playing hardball with my jacuzzi proposal. Aren't we facing a shortage of skilled workers? Maybe I should start dropping hints about our employee retention efforts. Surely that includes something about providing a comfortable work environment. Sitting is painful, I've taken to kneeling on the floor in between appointments to complete my notes.

But, no matter. The pain is going, practice is a joy, life is fun and it's spring in January - my perpetually cold self couldn't ask for anything more. Except, of course, a jacuzzi.