random (and completely un-ready) stuff

The first time I went to India it was with a disposable camera, a walkman + two tapes, and a kazillion packages of instant oatmeal. I'd listened to all of the stories and I was scared, convinced that I was going to get food poisoning at every turn. The oatmeal was my protection against dodgy food and my insurance policy against starvation. Silly girl.

Many trips later I return with a proper camera, a fancy iPod that I don't really understand, and a loving gastronomical history with India that includes heaps of dodgy food but no food poisoning**. With each trip the technology I travelled with grew increasingly sophisticated (for me) and the list of things I really need but never would have known grew increasingly eccentric. This only recently occurred to me as I prepare for this, my sixth visit. Instead of running around purchasing oatmeal to stave off starvation, I've been slowly gathering:

->vitamin/mineral salts - the ones everyone else uses for hangovers but I use because I can't seem to drink in as much as I sweat out when in India in May
->photocopies of my passport - there's not one trip yet that hasn't found me running from store to store looking for a working photocopier for one reason or another. I've decided to cut out the middleperson and just bring my own
->passport-sized photos - see above
->my favourite incense - instant home for those moment when I need it and the only place I've found it in Mysore is at the Three Sisters which, in itself, isn't a bad thing but I find it impossible to visit there without eating and eating and eating and maybe arranging for a massage before eating some more
->ryvita - yeah, stupid, but I miss crispbread when I'm away and crispbread + ghee + honey = happiness on a plate
->pumice stone - to counter dusty roads and flimsy sandals and to foil thoughts of "geez, my feet are lookin' pretty bad" when in paschimotasana etc (what? don't say you've never done it!)

There's probably more but I should get going because you know what I'm not doing? I'm not packing, not clearing out my apartment, not finishing up the work contract I promised to have done before I leave - and I leave soon. Really soon.



**save for one time in Dharmasala which doesn't count. If I can look at a dirty, crusty mug filled with off-tasting chai and think "boy, if anything is going to make me sick, it's this" and then proceed to keep drinking - well - I deserve to get sick.

maybe that explains it...

Following my physical a few weeks ago, the Doctor's office called me in to talk about my results - something they don't usually do. I'm the cleanest living person I know (or the most boring - whatever - why play with semantics) so I couldn't have much to worry about but I'd been tested for every possible thing under the sun and one never knows...

Turns out she wanted to talk about my iron levels. They're low. At 5 when they should be at 50. What a relief, not because I was worried about the other possibilities but because I've been so. freaking. tired lately. Actually, tired doesn't even cover it. Listless, drained, empty is closer. I thought maybe it was the season, my mood, the rush of finishing up work - any number of things but I didn't even think about my iron.

She proposed a supplement, one comprised of bull's blood. Uh, no. Even if I weren't a vegetarian, no. Instead I went to the health food store to buy a natural supplement. Unfortunately, stores confuse me, there's just so much stuff in them, and while I was drifting around the aisles I forgot what I was there for and I emerged half an hour later without iron but with chocolate.

If chocolate contained iron I'd be SO set.

saturday

Last Saturday at home for a few months. Slept in, read papers over coffee, enjoyed the sun streaming through the window. Gorgeous out today. Rode my bike to late afternoon yoga taking the long way along the lakeshore. Stopped at a patio restaurant after yoga for coffee, pastries, and daydreaming. They were playing the new Weezer album. It's good.



Am looking forward to Mysore but home is very good too. Will miss being here.

ready?

My monthly pass expired so I purchased a 10-class pass to carry me from now until the time I leave. It was hours later that I realized that I leave before that pass even expires. Yikes. I'm gone in less than a week! Guess that explains why every conversation lately has included questions about whether I was "ready" yet, it seems I'm the only one who wasn't aware that I'm off soon.

Guess that also explains why no one but me seems to think that my current state of "getting ready", which is limited to pulling out all my cute sundresses and sandals and wearing the hell out of them now that the weather has finally warmed up, is an appropriate response. But, hey, after living out of a small carry on bag for three summers, I have a lot of summer clothes to get reacquainted with and, apparently, less than a week to do so.

Coming from a long line of last minute packers, late checker-inners, last to board the plane-ers, a week is heaps of time. Besides, my best packing is usually done in airport parking lots, crouched beside the car, madly pulling some things out of the bag while stuffing others in.

I always forget something. I almost never actually need it.**

**a caveat for what I know is coming from my mother: "almost never actually need" what I forget does not include plug adaptors which, it seems, cost more for her to post last summer than it would have if she'd just flown over and delivered one by hand.

Note to self - pack a damn adaptor this time...

this is where i grew up

Today, for the first time since moving to part-time hours last September, I paid attention to my pay stub and figured out how much money I make. It was shocking - and I don't mean in a 'pleasantly surprised' way. While it may be enough for me to live comfortably on, it definitely isn't enough for me to work through yet another lunch so I grabbed my camera and headed out.

Although I work 15 minutes from where I was raised, I rarely go there (too busy working through my lunches, you see ;), but today was such a gorgeous day, it was perfect for the drive. I stopped in town for a coffee and then moved on to the park to say hello to the river, enjoy the sun, and see what's new in the place where I, quite literally, grew up. Home of:

The best bridge in the world

beneath which we spent hours turning over rocks to catch crayfish and stepping daintily to avoid being bitten



What used to be the most amazing wooden park, complete with castle turrets and gangplanks, has been replaced with this

and this

I guess splinters are more hazardous to our health than brightly coloured plastic which is as uninspiring as it is boring.

Where I learned to swim



The instructor wanted us to learn to open our eyes under water so he would hold up a few fingers, we would duck our heads under water, and emerge to tell him how many fingers he was holding up; if we were wrong, he would pinch us very hard on our bottoms as many times as we were wrong. I was five, I'm not even sure I could count yet (I was a bit slow in some areas), but I know I couldn't open my eyes under water - it hurt - so I would go under, eyes squeezed shut, and come up guessing a number that I desperately hoped was right. It never was. I got pinched a lot. Danger, indeed.

And the baseball diamond where we would play our softball tournaments behind which is a hill that may not look like much but it is widely known as the BEST tobogganing hill for miles around. That thing is killer in the winter. The fencing in the bottom left is the batting cage which, to this day, I have never once seen in use. Good to see that it's still there, waiting and ready, though.




I wandered around the park with my coffee in one hand, camera in the other, seeing how much had changed without really changing at all. The rocks by the river which formed the 'do not cross' line when I was a toddler and a cover for underage drinking when I was a teenager are still there. My favourite climbing tree is as well. And the pool, baseball diamond, toboganning hill, and ice rink are all the same. So, in many respects, am I.

I drove back to the office, windows down, sun beaming, "Little Red Corvette" playing loudly on the radio and the number on my paycheck really didn't seem to matter anymore. Nothing about that moment would have changed were my salary any higher or lower than what it currently is and that moment? It was a wonderful one. Why wish for any different?

almost that person

When I was learning to drive I promised myself that I would NEVER be one of those people who roadraged the 'drivers education' cars with their scared, timid, doing-the-best-they-can new drivers.

Today, following a car driving 20km below the speed limit (placing us at a leisurely 30km per hour) with two wheels on the road and two wheels drifting haphazardly across the dirt on the shoulder...oh. holy. god. it was a hard promise to keep.

But I did.

april

A few years ago at this time I was in Helsinki for the first time and things were already strange. After months of telling me to come, assuring me that his plans were my summer plans, and talking of all the things "we" would do all summer, the boy balked at me purchasing a 12-class yoga pass, complained of how his apartment wasn't built for two but then talked me out of my plans to leave for travels elsewhere stating that I "couldn't leave". I was confused at his confusion and crestfallen by his back and forth after months of big talk.

At this time last year I had just finished writing my comprehensive exam and officially completed my masters degree. This followed a year of running two steps behind to keep up, of being unable to catch myself long enough to know myself. There was just too much to do and in the midst of it all my relationship was falling apart, my dream career no longer my dream, and health issues with scary (and, in hindsight, unfounded) names rearing their heads. I was breathless and disconnected and lost in busyness. Who was I? What did I want? Where did I belong? I knew nothing.

At this time this year I realized that I'm happy in a way I haven't been in years. I know you're sick of hearing it but I still feel loss and longing, I miss the boy, but there is a happiness, a freedom, that wasn't here last year. Yesterday I realized that so many of the questions that plagued me over the last few years are gone. Who am I? Where do I belong? What do I want to do with my life? I'm no closer to the answers but I'm no longer obsessing over not knowing. I don't know where I'm going to be but I know that I'm right here. I don't need to know any more than that.

This time this year I'm done my masters, assisting with yoga classes, creating community around me, meeting new people, free from the web of someone else's confusion , found my teachers in Toronto and, through all of these things, finding myself as well. Changing to part time work provided the space I needed to first fall apart and then regroup; now this same space allows room for new work opportunities to present themselves, one opportunity in particular is something I've wanted to do for years.

This time this year I celebrated the first warm day of spring by going for my first bike ride. I rode along the lakeshore to Queen Street, grabbed a cup of coffee and headed to the park where I welcomed the feeling of grass between my toes, watched the dogs celebrate, and had the space to sit and realize how much change had occurred over this last year. To notice that I wasn't rushed, wasn't wondering, wasn't confused and wasn't lost. I was right there, on the park bench on a gorgeous Thursday afternoon - and I was happy.

kiitos or merci?

The last three trips I've taken to non-English speaking lands have all been to Finland. Maybe that explains why here, immersed in the land of the proud French, I've reflexively been responding to everyone in Finnish before hastily switching to French. Thank you becomes kiitos becomes merci. Sorry becomes anteksi becomes pardon, and so on.

I miss the challenge of trying to navigate a city using a foreign language. I miss the challenge of absorbing new words and wrapping my mind around new grammar rules. I miss some things.

conference yoga

DAY 1
A living room floor in a friend's house. To my left, a coffee table pushed flush against the wall but still close enough to connect with outstretched limbs. On my right, an antique couch bearing destroyed seat cushions, the latest victims of a bored teenaged puppy. In front of me, four very curious cats watching every move with great interest. The one introduced as 'the most vicious of them all' was also the most curious of them all. She took to walking under me while I was in downward dog, letting her tail brush across my face, under my nose, in my eyes, as she moved back and forth. I worried about injuring her during jumpbacks.

DAY 2
Began at stupid-o-clock as I snuck out of my room, mat bag in hand, to avoid waking my coworker. Wandered the Mezzanine floor looking for an open, non-AC room to practice before resigning myself to the gym. Tucked into the corner, weight-press-thingy to my left, exercise bikes behind me, mirrors to my front and right. Mirrors are devastating. My asanas which feel like beauty are actually very ugly and my body which I'm usually able to make peace with is puffy, pudgy, and even uglier. Trolls sneak in, my mind begins to obsess, self-loathing takes over until I focus, focus, focus - come back to the breath, come back to this moment, come back to driste and it all fades away. Gone. Beauty returns.

DAY 3
Back in the gym. Same spot. Same trolls. Same retreat to what actually matters - the breath, the driste, the moment. Arms are not straight, back arches, stomach puffs, it doesn't matter. I'm here, I'm blessed with a body that carries me through my day, and this moment is a good one; this is what matters. Behind me a woman talks loudly to her friend, explaining that she doesn't watch TV because she needs silence in order to hear God speaking to her. I know what she means and, after three days of conference talking, talking, talking, I long for this silence.

I begin, for the first time, to really look forward to India. Months of injuries, rotating teachers at my home shala, stolen moments on friends' floors or in hotel gyms; I long to be in India with one teacher where I can stay put, stay still, and stay quiet.

travel memoir by techology

On my first trip to India I travelled with a walkman and a disposable camera. That's it. I taught myself to fall asleep to the sound of Matchbox Twenty, one of the only two tapes I still owned and brought on my trip with me, and I returned with grainy, dark pictures courtesy of my crappy disposable camera.

When I returned to India a few years later it was armed with a discman and a borrowed camera the latter of which possessed both broken flash and zoom. I purchased the same Matchbox Twenty album, my secret weapon in the struggle to fall asleep amidst the sounds of TV's, radios, car horns, barking dogs, late night arguments, and later night family dinners, on CD and packed a handful of 35mm film, proud that I'd remembered an actual camera that time out.

Although travelling with a discman AND a non-disposable camera was high-tech for me, I was a travelling ludite in comparison to others. These travellers came with iPods, laptop computers, digital cameras, and mobile phones. I wasn't envious of their 'stuff' so much as I was of their convenience and my next trip found me similarly stocked with laptop computer, iPod, mobile phone, and camera with fully functioning options. Granted, the mobile and camera were borrowed luxuries but they were convenient ones. Travelling with a phone changed things completely by making what had always been a solitary, disconnected pursuit a busy, social, connected one - this was an unexpected and not entirely welcome change.

And, yes, I'd downloaded my Matchbox Twenty sleeping soundtrack to my iPod.

For my upcoming trip, the list of technology grows to ridiculous lengths. In addition to my laptop and iPod I bring my very own phone, my beloved Nikon, and a new acquisition, a small Canon for those times when carrying the Nikon is too cumbersome. While I began writing this with a touch of humour, amused that I can trace my advancements into the world of technology according to my trips to India, as the list of stuff I travel with grew to culminate in that final list complete with not one but two cameras, I'm embarrassed. Can I explain that, with the exception of the laptop and Nikon, the rest are castoffs donated my way when the previous owners upgraded? Or that both the Nikon and my laptop travel with me for working purposes?

No. I didn't think so.

I have to go look this way now.

crap

No-chemistry man just sent an email offering to take in the cat while I'm gone this summer.

What to do, what to do?

On one hand would like to keep as much distance as possible between us, on the other, I've exhausted all possible cat-sitting resources. If not no-chemistry man, then it's the weird pot smoking guy in the basement dungeon.

Can I really relegate my little guy to the equivalent of a basement hot-box for two months just so I can avoid potentially awkward social entanglements?

And, uh, does it make me a bad cat-friend that the answer is a very definite 'Yes'?

i so wish i was kidding

Perfectly nice traveller, kayaker, photographer, successful, mature guy but not even the tiniest bit of chemistry.

So


I just used "I have to feed my cat" as an excuse to end a date early.

spring, sister goddesses and weddings

If I hadn't been such a shy child and if the mean ballet teacher hadn't yelled so much I might have stayed in ballet instead of finding refuge in hockey with its masks and padding that made it so easy to hide. Had I stayed in ballet then I'd probably know how to pirouette and, that being the case, I would have pirouetted my way around the city today instead of walking because it's spring and that's what spring makes me want to do. Dance, twirl, explode with happiness because oh, holy God, it's not freezing, the sky is blue, the sun is shining and the promise of life is in the air.

Today was the first, real spring-like day. My friend and I set out for what was supposed to be "Rebecca & Alishia's Excellent Spring Adventures" but ended up being "Rebecca and Alishia's Excellent Three Hour Meal" where heaps of sushi were consumed, the meaning of life discussed, and I got the lowdown on a workshop Alishia attended where participants were instructed to refer to each other as "Sister Goddess". How wonderful is that? Family and friends take notice: from this point on I will only respond when addressed as "Sister Goddess Rebecca" because that? That can't help but make a girl smile.

Before meeting up with Alishia, I met up with my little-big sister, Ekah, who is every bit a Sister Goddess herself:



She's getting married on Saturday to this lovely man:



I insisted on taking this picture because it will be their last picture EVER as unmarried people, and because in EVERY single picture from this point forward there will be a ring on their fingers and commitment and responsibilities to another person for EVER and EVER more. The emphasis on the EVER was necessary because it freaked them out a bit which I took great pleasure in. It didn't freak them out as much as my dad's "pep talks", though, which reassured them that it's normal to be a bit anxious since "you're about to make the single most important commitment of your life".

Because THAT'S not at all an anxiety-inducing thought ;)

get busy living

This series of photos, Life Before Death, has been making the rounds on the internet. If you haven't seen it yet, click here and be sure to read the text summaries beside each photo.

I stumbled across the site yesterday which was also the first day that spring made her appearance after this long, relentless winter. The winds were strong and I headed down to the lake to see what was happening with the water where I couldn't get the stories of the people out of my mind. The woman who called her estranged husband after 17 years of silence to be met with the words "I'm coming", the one who referred to death as a test of one's maturity, and the several individuals who felt cheated when faced with death soon after retiring from years upon years of hard work. I was reminded of how unpredictable life is. How short. How important it is not to wait for some time in the future to start living.

Life happens; sometimes it's awesome and sometimes it's really not but it happens and every minute lived is a minute borrowed. Sitting by the lake last night I was surrounded by a symphony of sounds, the wind blowing, seagulls calling, waves crashing, and trees swooshing. I turned my face to the still-cold air that stole my breath away with it's force and knew that I was alive. Blessedly, luckily, miraculously and joyously alive.

be wild

"The real mask of wildness is a love of nature, a delight in silence, a voice free to say spontaneous things, and an exuberant curiosity in the face of the unknown" Robert Bly

Spring is here in every sense, literal and metaphoric. It's a gorgeous feeling and a joy to be caught in the wildness of spring. The barely contained explosive dance of nature balancing the need to wait a few more days with the itch to bloom, grow, reach. The anticipation, the eagerness, feeling on the brink of freedom is mirrored in the people I meet with. It's mirrored in me. My mind tries to be melancholic and often succeeds, but it doesn't get to rest in melancholy for long - my soul won't let it stay there. There are too many good things happening and enough is enough.

'Exuberant curiosity', could there be a more beautiful phrase?

Be wild, everyone.

today

Something remembered:  Being a beginner student and cursing the yoga teacher, hating him/her for that extra count of four....four....when I was DYING for them to say five.  There was a woman in the class I assisted tonight who kept desperately whispering "five...five...five...", five being the count when you exit the pose. It was cute.  

Something learned: Independent eye witnesses claiming that the car behind me ignored my blinker and brake lights and ran into me (as opposed to me reversing into them) mean nothing when the car behind me in question is a City of Toronto Police car.  Survey says:  my fault. 

Something noticed:  The past stayed in the past today.  Gorgeous yoga practices, unfair car accidents, the hug of a sister, dinner with a good friend and grounding from another, a fantastic book, exciting plans, spring in the air, and sun, sun, sun for the first time in days all conspired to keep my mind present and my heart dancing.  Thank you. 

details

A few weeks ago I signed up for a three day workshop with a visiting yoga teacher that I've wanted to study with for years. I could have sworn the session ran from 6am-9am, Thursday-Saturday but after peeling myself out of bed at 5am and dragging myself through the dark, cold morning to the subway I arrived at the studio to find it completely dark. No class.

I hopped back on the subway and made my way downtown to my studio where I had a gorgeous, very long, very lazy practice and caught up with lovely yoga people afterwards. It was a very good morning but when the heck is the workshop? The fees were charged to my account so I know it wasn't a figment of my imagination but there's no mention of the workshop anywhere on schedule. I know what you're thinking, I missed the damn workshop. I suck at the details people. Suck.

Yesterday I confirmed my leave/start dates with my Manager. My current contract ends end of April and my new one begins mid-August, again working 3 days per week. I've literally dreamed of having this exact work schedule which I mentioned to my Manager stating how hard it will be when my 2008-2009 contract ends and I'll be thrust out into the cold, hard world of full time work again.

She was confused, why would I be working somewhere else full time at end of the 2009 school year? I was confused, because I'm working on contract. She was confused, didn't I read the new contract I signed a few weeks ago? They'd turned my contract into an ongoing, permanent position. I get to work 3 days a week, September-April for ever and ever.

Heh. No. I didn't read the contract. I don't even know how much money I make. I don't just suck at the details, I don't even think of them - they're non-issues. Until, of course, they become issues. Like missed workshops or work contracts or paying bills, or remembering where I put my keys after I walked in the door (last sighting was 5 days ago), or replacing my license sticker (expired Nov '07)...lets face it, if the cat didn't meow, he wouldn't get fed.

Back to the work issue, as much as I suck at details I suck even more at commitment and the idea of permanence. It doesn't matter just how closely these hours resemble my dream work hours, the second I heard that they were permanent I had to paste the smile on my face while fighting back panicked claustrophobia. Yeah, I'm embellishing but the fact is, I preferred it much better when I thought my contract ended in April 2009.

Details I haven't missed: I changed my hair from red back to blonde a few weeks ago and today finally found that my fringe was long enough to tuck back into my ponytail. I look like me again for the first time since September. You have no idea how wonderful it feels.

And now I'm off to bed because I refuse to admit I screwed up the workshop dates so thoroughly and I'm up at 5am AGAIN tomorrow for attempt number two at attending the session . Maybe it started on Friday, not Thursday...

soaring to meet reality

I was meeting with a new student today. She'd made the appointment to discuss doing a series of assessments to "find out what I'm good at because I don't even know who I am anymore". She's 19. Are you supposed to know who you are at 19?

It's so distressing, the students I see, the pressure they feel to figure it all out, to know everything, NOW. While other cultures are slowing down, embracing gap years, encouraging students to take time off in between or during schooling we're doing the opposite. Students finish high school at an earlier age, enter the workforce or university sooner and are charged much more for the latter than at any point in history. The first question at any Toronto social event is invariably "What do you do?" or, for students, "What do you want to do?". Not necessarily a bad question but it's the expectation behind it, that they should know what they want to do that stings. There's no room for playful curiosity, for trying something new, for failing, for exploration and for having fun with it all.

This same student kept talking about things she'd dreamed of doing, being an actress in particular, but always followed her dreams with the statement "But I have to be realistic" and a repeated request to do the tests so she could find out what she's good at. As if the tests could know her better than she did.

How did she come to decide that it wasn't her dreams that she was good at? How did she become so lost to herself that she thinks the answer lies in 317 multiple choice questions? How has she come to believe that "being realistic" means letting go of your dreams, defeated? What are we doing to our kids?

Many times when I'm working with students my heart breaks for them but, more often than that, I'm so glad to have the job that I do. A job where I get to present an alternate point of view and introduce the possibility that "being realistic" isn't something you fall down to - it's something you soar up towards.

giving someone else's words back

I went to see this movie last night about Sigur Ros, set in Iceland, their home country.   Clips of the band playing were interspersed with panoramic shots of Iceland and, inexplicably, I had to fight back tears several times as visions of great plains, waterfalls, the ocean and strange little whitewashed houses filled the screen.  

They weren't sad tears, more a pull or a longing of sorts.  At several points during the movie and many times since I've thought to myself: "I don't belong here".  Not in an immediate sense, at the moment I am very much of and enjoying Toronto, but in a grander sense, I don't belong here forever.  I've always known that.  Everyone who's known me has always known that.  

My contract ends in one month and I've been resisting, resisting, resisting the urge to travel feeling, instead, like I should stay put in Toronto. I've decided several times that that's exactly what I'm going to do, I'm going to stay in Toronto and "invest in life here".  That last bit comes from someone else.  They're someone else's words that I've tried hard to internalize, to make mine - but they're not.  They won't stick. 

I've decided to stop struggling and give in to my need to vagabond.  I'm going to play overseas this summer and go where the spirit takes me which may well be back home after just 3 weeks or I could be gone 3+ months.   Either way, I'm relieved to not be fighting with myself anymore and I'm so excited. 

dating

Another date tonight. Another lovely, kind, interesting man. Another reminder of how that inexplicable chemistry, the kind that turns a lovely, kind, interesting man into someone 'special', can be so elusive. Another reminder of how lucky I've been in the past to find it at all. Dating again after such a long absence from the dance has been interesting. It's bolstered my faith in mankind, there are so many very decent men out there, and it's bolstered my faith in myself. I was afraid that I would compare every new person to the boy and find them lacking which hasn't been the case at all. There is no comparing.

The guys I've been out with have been really great. Accomplished, funny, interesting, emotionally mature - they 'get it' - but no one I'd be interested in seeing a second time. At first I was slightly deflated by the reminder of just how hard it is to find someone that feels special but now it just feels kind of nice to be reminded of how many decent people there are out there. I'd forgotten about those awkward "it's not you, it's me" or "you're very nice but..." conversations, God, they suck. How do you explain something that has no words? That there's no chemistry, that they're not your match, that you've always known the second you've set eyes on someone that that "something" was there and you didn't feel that tonight but you really would, actually, like to be friends because they're totally supercool?

Dating again has made me miss the boy in a fond way, reminded me of the instant connection he and I had, and realize just how hard it is going to be to find it again, but it's also helped me see things about that relationship that I hadn't seen before. One of the things that has struck me most is how interested these men are in me; how thoughtful the questions, how focused the attention on the answers, how genuine the intention to get to know me. It's struck me because that wasn't there with the boy. Everything he knew, he knew because I offered it.

Turns out there is some comparing after all.

I remember how surprised the boy was that I liked him. How, at times, I felt that he was almost suspicious of the fact that I loved him, as if I were simply desperate and latching onto an unwitting foreigner because I couldn't find someone in Canada. It's funny. If only he could have known me at home he would have known that I wasn't in love with him because there were no other options, I was in love with him despite the fact that I had other options. I chose him.

I think of him every day. I miss him every day. But it doesn't matter. Life is moving on in an increasingly joyful way and I'm letting myself be carried forward instead of resisting by wishing over things from the past. Of course, I hate that things are over but I hate even more the way that they're over. It's strange knowing someone who used to mean the world to me is out there living a life that doesn't include me, that we don't even talk anymore. It seems childish and ugly, I don't like it but, again, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what I want, wish for, like or don't like. There's freedom in that and all of the painful feelings that used to accompany thoughts of him/us are changing, fading. It is what it is.

Broken edges become dulled, raw feelings are soothed by time, the ache of missing fades, sadness melts into acceptance, life rebuilds around the hole left by someone's departure, and faith returns. Sadness, regret, longing, fear, confusion and shock are replaced by happiness, excitement, openness, acceptance and optimism. The change is a slow but sure one. I have trust again that all happens for the best and I know there will be a time when I don't think of the boy at all let alone think of him with sadness.

It's already happening.