Sunday

Today is Sunday. As I lay here belly down, diagonally across our bed with the bright blue sky outside our floor-to-ceiling windows illuminating my face, I can hear Sean chatting away on the phone with a far-away friend about our wedding plans.

On my left hand shines my most cherished 1940s yellow gold diamond ring, a family heirloom that is more perfect than anything I tried to imagine wearing on my finger before he asked me to marry him along the tiny northern lakeshore at his cottage on a September evening. A canoe parked behind us, jeans rolled up, feet in cold water and the dark forest surrounding us.

2020 has been something. A whole lot of unexpected life events that kept billowing outwards from the centre of a global pandemic. This year will not be forgotten, for so many unfortunate reasons, although little glimmers of good have poked through here and there.

I'm optimistic that 2021 will be merrier and the world we see a steady progression of recovery on all fronts. I hope we can celebrate our summer wedding without too much hassle, as many others hope as well. Regardless, it's all meant to be, I believe, and there are always things to learn about ourselves and the world around us when we experience grief. No need to dwell.

It's a slow day for us today. Meal planning, grocery shopping, a chilly walk outside, a hearty Sunday night dinner and perhaps a movie will make up this day before we enter a new week. I'm eagerly awaiting the delivery of my string lights for our new Christmas tree, adorned with homemade dried orange slices and pinecones from the park across the street.

I love Christmastime, albeit a little different this year.

Patience

It's December 1st and I've already chosen my 'word' for 2020, something I always like to choose for each new year to represent what I'd like to (try to) embody.

My word for 2020 is patience. I wouldn't be surprised if I've chosen it before.

Patience is something I've admittedly lacked for most of my life. If I'm not where I want to be or if I don't have what I want, an uneasiness bubbles inside of me.

Yet patience teaches us to be still, to be present, and to be content with what is happening in front of us. There's an element of living in the now when we're patient, an element of being okay with what is while we dream our little dreams and work towards them.

I'm a dreamer, it's true, and it's a good thing. It's a powerful thing. When we focus our energy on the things we want to achieve, we're able to take ourselves to bigger and better places. But when we fixate on those things -- seeing them and them only -- we become frustrated. Impatient one might say. The dreams look all too appealing, too good to resist, and seemingly superior to our life right now.

I have human moments just like any other. I want all the things, too:

When I was single, I couldn't wait to have a boyfriend. When I lived at home, I couldn't wait to have my own place. When I lived in the suburbs, I couldn't wait to live downtown someday. When I had debt, I couldn't wait to pay it all off.

And then I got all those things, and now I can't wait for other things like buying a house, getting a dog, getting married or having kids.

Of course though we can wait, and in fact, waiting for our desires to come to fruition at the right time (when we're better prepared, have more savings for a down payment, etc.) makes them 100x more rewarding once we have them.

There's nothing worse than the feeling of rushing in to something, such as a purchase or a decision,  only to feel like it would have been way better to just wait.

If I let myself get caught up in my wants, I feel incredibly dissatisfied with my 'right now'. Yet, my life right now is so rich, so full, so beautiful. Gratitude is an essential component to living a happy life, especially when we remember that there are always going to be things to want, regardless of whether we've achieved our 'dream life' or not.

It's not about complacency, settling, or letting go of the things we want in life. Not at all. It's just about being content with our journeys and enjoying the sightseeing along the way. There's beauty in every inch of the path we're on

Nothingness

Let it die
Solemn words erupt from the speakers of my phone, appropriately,
sitting next to me
by two glasses of water
an old lamp
and a box of tissues

Nothing grounds me more than writing does
a place I go when I need therapy
like hot water boiling over
making a mess
rushing over to take it off the stove.

These days I am listless
nothing really makes sense
I'm either lost in a short-lived crying spell
or consumed by subtle bouts of fear
of what ensues from periods of deliberate nothingness.

Nothingness being my current plan of action
To shift from a state of everythingness, big and bright,
to a partly intentional sheet of grey
a canvas perhaps, white and blank
with a few streaks of pink or purple
it's not all un-lively, you know.

But the truth is that it's very hard to be a habitual non-stopper
an addict of achievement
a chronic over-thinker
a frenetic go-getter
and force yourself to slow things down.

It's hardly forcing, though, when you simply become incapable of things
It's more of a rewiring of sorts
a re-evaluation of ways
a set of questions you begin to ask
seeking answers from places you've never been.

I'm tip-toeing carefully
walking forwards and backwards at the same time
I feel like a zamboni driver
resurfacing all the scratches
the places that need smoothing
a little bit of care
attention to detail
a revitalization of passions left behind in the pursuit of success
a redefining of what makes me truly happy
in the first place.

October 1st 2018

It's as dark as seven minutes past nine in the morning can be, what with the rain and all, to my right, out the sliding glass doors of our Juliette balcony.

I love rainy days more than I love many other things, and today I love it especially. There's a healing-ness about them, don't you think?

I woke this morning to the fifth day of this chest cold that's dwindling slowly. I got up and promptly began boiling water. A peppermint teabag rests inside steaming water in a mug on the counter while I write this. I like to let it steep well.

Today I feel things I can't describe: liberated, exhilarated, and deeply, profoundly pensive, in a way I haven't been in many moons. I think it must be partly this illness I'm wallowing in; I'm forced to take a day or two off of my usual work routine to recover, and it's allowing me to focus on some other things I've put on the back burner, like writing just for the sake of writing. It's also fall now, not only by date but by temperature, subtle changes in the hue of leaves, and that otherworldly feeling you get when the chilled air touches your face. I could cry it's so beautiful.

But more than anything, it's October 1st 2018, a brand new month, and I'm plopped right in the middle of all the wishes and dreams I ever had. I'm here, it's here, they're here, and there's nothing else to say but how lucky I feel, how grateful I am, and how I can hardly believe it when I look around me.

Life Is But A Dream

It's nighttime. Half passed eleven. Last night I was awake until 3am, tossing and turning; too hot, and then too cold. It's not typical for me to have trouble falling asleep, but in times like these when your life is in transition, it's what's to be expected, I'd say. At least for someone with my kind of whirlwind brain.

Tonight I sit here for the very last time on this bed. A folded duvet rests by my feet with a cat on top; stacks of books to be taken to the thrift store tomorrow lie on the floor to my left, and my desk is cleared of all papers and pens: only a few bits and bobs are left on top for me to toss into a bag. In the far corner I have two large containers packed neatly with camera equipment, cords, and a few belongings that seemed appropriate to keep. I'm impressed with myself that I've been able to compress most of the contents of my life into a couple boxes and bags.

Tomorrow I enter a brand new chapter of my life. But, this isn't just any chapter.

This chapter is a powerful one. A glossy, shimmery, weighted chapter that represents everything I've ever wished for. It holds every dream I've ever dreamed, and it sits, it waits for me tomorrow morning, to enter it.

I'll be living in a city I dreamed of living, with a person I dreamed of living with and being with and breathing with, and I'll be doing what I've always wanted to do.

Life is but a dream.

Twirling

It's the middle of March, which means it's almost spring, although it's -10 and we just got another delivery of snow.

This winter has gone by so fast - really truly - faster I think than any other winter. I remember the past few winters were drawn-out and unending, depressingly so, but this time 'round I can hardly believe April is only a few moons away. I have much to look forward to the next few weeks: I've got a whole lot on the go right now and I can't wait to see how it all unfolds this year.

_______

So, it's official. I have ceased to remove myself from my twirling mind; the to-and-fro that comes in waves, whispering one thing and then shouting the next, both entirely opposite pieces of advice.

I spoke to counsellors and psychologists in my late teens and early twenties, back when my anxiety was so overbearing that the world around me was as dark and hazy as anything you've ever seen; back when I couldn't seem to make a decision any better than I can now, in some ways, I suppose.

Thankfully, a handful of years later, I'm more confident in my steps than I've ever been, although there's a thing or two that always pulls me backward. I'm going to speak to another psychotherapist this Friday and I am so thrilled about it. Friday can't come soon enough, in fact. I'm nervous though, too, and mostly just hopeful that he'll be able to help me find clarity in all of the spaghetti of questions I have about life, love, moving on, and moving forward.

I'm the kind of person who needs to express how I feel by talking about stuff with people I trust. I am terrible at holding things in when something is bothering me, and this is why counselling is so helpful for me. I think everybody should invest in a few sessions with a therapist at least once in their life, during a time when they need answers, someone to bounce their thoughts off of, or to get another perspective.

For now I am writing down all of the things I am grateful for and I can't tell you why I haven't done it more often.

Twenty Six

Today is my 26th birthday.

I booked today off work, a snowy Tuesday that has turned into heavy, slushy rain; but I spent the entire day listening to a meditation playlist, drinking banana-coconut milk, baking grain-free birthday brownies, blushing over the amount of well wishes, and doing a little bit of reading.

This birthday is the very first birthday out of all of my birthdays where I feel a little bit of discomfort. Usually I am lively and ecstatic on my special day, and I love to celebrate, but this time around the sun I'm feeling a little out of sorts.

My birthday is very close to the holiday season, and my holidays this year were a little somber. I found myself unusually wishing for Christmas to hurry up and be over and for New Years to quickly pass. I am still just processing some big, big stuff, and I'm thankful it is 2017, because 2016 was full to the brim with the difficulty of ending a relationship and the rise of some digestive health issues.

I've been spending a lot of time the past little while working on myself and filling up my pockets with a bounty of positivity in the form of affirmations and things of the like. In fact, my bedroom is stocked with tiny little notes of reassuring and encouraging words to keep me from twirling downward into that scary dark hole of anxiety and horrible thoughts. I must say, I feel really great as a result; I wake each morning telling myself my life is unfolding perfectly, that I can handle anything that comes my way, and that I always know the answers.

Being alone is scary, but it's thrilling. Regardless of what's behind me and what's to come, I am happy, and I'm excited about the future. I trust myself, the path I've walked thus far, and the path that's before me - whatever stones and twigs and roses I find along the way.

Tales

I have to keep reminding myself that I am here, and not there; that it is today and not tomorrow, and that the stories I create are just that: a tale that my mind sings to itself on repeat, stirring a soup of emotions and fibs that do nothing but make my heart sticky and webbed and afraid.

I think I hate not knowing what the future holds, yet I can be so certain and so excited about the mystery of it all. Still, there is an unknown about it; a grey sheet that I can't see through. Thankfully it's up to us to decide what we want to imagine is beyond that sheet. Mostly I have pleasant thoughts; a vibrant imagination and my feet are eager. But I do suppose I am still just a girl with a mind as wild as any other, and I fear just as much as the next person.

Tomorrow I am going to do nothing but notice the sun, or perhaps the clouds before it; I will breathe in the autumn air that sweeps itself around me. I will chop leeks and dice cucumber as though it is the only thing that matters and I will remember that I am simply, simply, right here, right now.

Full and Sweet

I could tell you where I've been, and I could tell you where I now am. I can't say I know what's to come, but I do know it's good. It's full, and it's sweet.

I was taken by surprise for the second time in a row this week where I've been presented with a most dazzling opportunity. I can't help but feel so grateful that I chose the path I'm on: to live a passionate, ambitious life, regardless of whether or not others around me thought anything would come of it. I've not once let go of the vision I have for myself. I am looking right at it, face on, because many of the dreams I've dreamed are no longer dreams, but tangible real-life things that are now part of my story. I've a pocket full of many more dreams, and I am eagerly awaiting how they, too, will transpire.

Each day my life continues to turn and twist and shape into something so refreshingly what I need. I can't help but think about the unbearably tough decisions I have had to make, but also how if it weren't for those decisions that my very soul cried out for, I wouldn't be where I am now. Oh, to listen to our hearts.

Why is it that fear so often dictates our every move? Why is it that the truth of things struggle to be the forefront in our lives, and instead, remain under a pile of doubt, like laundry that we just don't want to do? Even when our heart is screaming and shouting and banging on doors, with crystal clear certainty, we still back away. We step down, we give in, and fear rises to the top only to place our very soul's most precious messages back inside of a dark box.

I'm happy I have risen above much of the fear I had in my life. Instead, I've forced myself to keep journeying through it, past it, beyond it, into what appears to now be a very bright world with hardly much of anything standing in my way.

Life Things + A Challenge

a late august backyard bloom.

My life hasn't exactly been easy this year. One of my favourite ways to cope and work through the hard stuff is by writing, so I'm challenging myself to blog every day for the next month. Sometimes I struggle to write if I don't have anything in particular to express, but because my mind is as scrambled as eggs these days, I want to just... write. Anything and everything that my days consist of. Regardless of my posts being bland or not.

This morning, much like yesterday morning, I woke up half an hour before I needed to leave for work. Luckily I work a stones throw away, so I just slipped on stretchy leggings and a striped cotton three-quarter sleeve, made a slightly too-decadent strawberry smoothie with full fat coconut milk, and left.

My drive to work involves a very specific, though-out route: I make a left, a right, a left, a right again; I wait at the lights for an irritatingly long stretch of time, every time; zip down the bus lane and I am there. The most notable part of my drive to work is my intentional avoidance of my ex's house, however.

Work has been busy lately indeed, but the days are fuller and more interesting as a result, and I feel smarter; purposeful.

For dinner I made salmon and zucchini pasta with pesto. Moments after I took my first bite, I received terrible, if not highly frustrating news that if I am faced with only once more, I am going to break and/or punch everything in my general vicinity. This actually did end up happening a small while later when I slammed my bedroom door so hard that a picture fell off the wall and shattered. I sobbed while I listened to my mother quietly sweep up the glass.

She later popped her head in my room to update me on my cousin's two-centimetre cervical dilation. A new baby is on the way.

The frustration and the hurt I've been carrying the past few months is all a very long story, and one that is the core, the root, the guts of my darkness as of late. But all is well, and all will be well.

This too shall pass. An encouraging reminder.

If there's one thing I know right now, it's that I'm craving a getaway. If only to the forest; to a swamp, a river, a pond.

Rise Again

Heaviness is only temporary

the daylight will soon break in.

It's cloudy today. I woke up to pouring rain outside my window and a cat perched on my hip.

It's been just about four months since I've been on my own, and I'm stronger than I've ever been. Still there's a spoonful or two of ache in my heart, and he crosses my mind, but lately, I've been thinking about how incredibly content I feel beneath it all. How grounded and confident I am with where I'm at. I am loving my life.

I was reading through some of my notes from a few years ago on how painfully anxious I was. Timid, afraid, worried, insecure, uncertain. I can't quite pinpoint when or where I blossomed into who I am and what I feel today, right now, these days. At what point did I begin to shrug off the fears and let go of the mind-made stories? Somewhere, I suppose.

My life has been particularly enjoyable knowing that I have been creating a life for myself that I truly wanted; that I've written about and hoped for. Many of my dreams are painting themselves to life, and there are fleeting moments where I feel a surge of clarity, and excitement. It's lots of fun.

Good things have come into my life since I left it all behind. Good things. Solid things. Happiness I can touch and feel, a wholesomeness I've longed for. Even amidst the harder days, the darker days, or the moments where my strength is really being tested, I look up and I get this overwhelming reassurance that everything I have done in my life up until now is leading me exactly where I need to go, exactly where I need to be. And right now, on my own, is just that.

I've developed this attitude where each time I feel guilt or pain, I know that the discomfort only gets easier the more I allow it in. The more I refuse to cave in to the temptation of slipping backwards to some place comfortable and the more I keep stepping forward, the more I grow stronger. It's literally like working your muscles at the gym, except it's your heart and your head. You push yourself toward your goal or what you know is right; there is pain, it is sore, but it eases somehow, and you get better.

Oh, I know,

I'm gonna rise again

Set my sights on where I'm going

and my goodbye's are where I've been.

Home

__

The earth is alive

all around there is singing

the voices of chickadees

a robin

a stream of water

The glowing silhouette of tiny insects

flutter before the setting sun

they all have a place to be

I wonder where they go

I wonder what they do

I wonder what they see.

The orange sun falls lower in the sky;

and just above the fence it greets me

a good evening

a good night

It's bright and satiating and

fills my thirsty body with light

I breathe in

the world around me smells so green;

the grass is dewy

the ground is soft

and beneath the lilac tree

somehow I'm home. 

__

Hills And Stones

___

Do you ever wish that you could have a peek into your future?

just a glimpse,

just one curious eye through a keyhole

just one sense of the road ahead

of what's to come

of what's to tread

At the very least, we can be content knowing

the future will unravel seamlessly;

it will be velvety like the moon on the water and

the hardships will be overcome

like hills and like stones 

they will be subdued and

harmony will prevail if

we follow the song

of our soul

and the words

from

within

___

Light

___

My life has been rocky and swaying

and the darkness comes without warning;

I'm walking gently through the grass

there are soft blooms, and in the distance there is light

I can see it but I can't yet feel it

I can see it but I can't quite touch it

I know it's there, but there's a fog in between

Inside I am driven by fire,

iron and raw knowing;

there is a shield and it surrounds me

yet I'm swallowed by the size of it all

the scale of the hurt and the guilt

the pain of taking what once was

and making it no longer anything;

of taking what once had a pulse

a song

and a future,

and tearing it in half

like a letter you just couldn't get right

Each day is a new emotion

a new sense of clarity

or a new sense of fear

But I'm walking slowly past the trees

there are budding greens, and in the distance there is light

I can see it but I can't yet feel it

I can see it but I can't quite touch it

I know it's there, and the fog will clear.

___

Brave & Free

It takes a certain kind of bravery to value your worth enough to make life changing decisions. Decisions that sometimes hurt the people you love most, decisions that mean for a little while there is pain, there are clouds, and there is guilt.

For a very long time my life was blank. I had balloons full of hope, promise, and ultimately a path that many people would choose in a heartbeat. I was also empty, and afraid, and slowly becoming grey and dull. My days would flow with anger, resentment, frustration; but I would swallow the fear and carry on, pretending like it was everything I wanted, everything I needed. I would carry on as though, none of it bothered me, none of it shook me, none of it was corrupt in the deepest corners of my heart even though all of it was corrupt, all of it shook me, and all of it hurt me.

I was trapped, and so desperately wanted a way out. Ahead of me I saw one of two things: living a lie, or living my truth.

Truth always prevails, eventually, and the moment you pull it out from underneath the dust, open up the bottle it was locked inside, release it into the air from out of its cage, you are free.

Harsh

I went from one world to the next, and in a swift, jolting movement, I am here.

It was kind of all of a sudden, and it was kind of seen from afar. It was all things unexpected, and all things wished for.

Today I am a pile of crumbs. I'm a hormonal mess; hysterical, unreasonable, fragile. It is always a matter of my mind and how it takes me to the darkest of places; to the most fearful of them all. Hardly a day goes by without feeling some sparkle of uncertainty and, timid, I wonder if it will follow behind me until the end of my days.

I also wonder if life is ever really so certain? I go through phases where I'm entirely, whole-heartedly, concretely fixated on something - on an idea, a concept, a thought. Lately it is the inevitable harshness of life and the impossibility of ever escaping it.

There's a constant to-and-fro where I can justify it all and then I just can't. I find myself always hushing the littlest of voices, the tiniest of hesitations. I've been suppressing and bottling in and pushing downwards and squeezing all the fears into a container, putting it on a shelf, sweeping it under the rug. I sit and smile, I chat, I pretend to listen. I nod my head and agree, even though, I don't agree at all. I let them tell me what's right for me, even though inside I'm thrashing and angry and nothing, none of it, feels right.

I sometimes wonder if all of this will one day make my body deteriorate. I'll at the very least have a heart attack if I don't find the courage to make it right.

Stormy

I'm feeling stormy these last few days. Inside I'm thrashing and reluctant. I'm at a place in my life where I'm neither too old nor too young; there's time, lots of time. There's still plenty of opportunity; space to create, things to observe, lessons to learn. Yet, I'm terrified of my right now, of my this moment. I feel like my days are limited and every choice I make is critical to the outcome of my future.

My biggest fear is making the wrong choice. Being unhappy. Living a life that isn't true to me, and yet, knowing it was entirely preventable. Regret, perhaps, permeates my thoughts: the fear of regret, and wishing I could go back to make it all right.

I want to feel so utterly free flowing and connected but I've been so far from it. I feel like I've created two different people within myself: one of them is deep and poetic, introspective and contemplative. Creative, lively; a soft silky scarf and a basket of blooms. This side of me is deeply afraid, constantly questioning, and nothing is ever quite right - right now. The other side of me is hearty and serious, a true camouflage in the cold hearted world that surrounds me. This side of me sees reality, feels reality, and is afraid of living an unrealistic life.

I'll frequently remind myself that everything happens for a reason or everything is meant to be the way that it is. What can I learn from this? What can I learn from this? 

But, sometimes, I wonder if there is no more to learn. Perhaps I know now what I needed to know and there's a new level awaiting me.

Saturday Stroll

It has taken me almost two years to go for a walk in my neighbourhood. When I lived by the lake, I would go for walks on my own regularly. I would think and dream, and feel the breezes waterside. I was introspective back then, deeply introspective, though I was a pretty lost girl I'd say.

Then I moved. And I sort of hibernated in my new space for a time: I just hadn't that inclination to stroll the streets and smell the air and look up at the trees. My backyard, mind you, is a glorious oasis of many a flower and foliage.

Today however I went for a walk. It's an uncomfortable feeling of exposure: here I am, world, I'm coming out for a walk. I had to somewhat force myself to put my shoes on.

The air was chilly, but the sun made it mild. It was windy, and bright, and everything was alive. I walked passed the most bloomed tree I've seen, exploding with pink bursts, showering them on the grass below. I swept past white picket fences, small homes from 50 years ago lining the sidewalk-less streets, and oak trees as tall as the sky.

It was lovely and liberating.

bloom

Tonight, I'm happy.

I'm content. And I'm contemplative, inspired, safe.

I'm thinking about my life, actually, and time, and where it has all gone, and where it will take me. I'm thinking about where I have been, what I have done, and where I am. I remember so clearly just like it was yesterday all of the things that changed in my life so suddenly, four years ago. I remember the awakening, the re-birth; the unshakable me, the trembling me, the righteousness, the holding on, the letting go, the allowing, the grace of it all.

In retrospect, I see how I was so... innocent.

But so courageous. And eager. So, so eager. So inspired and relentless and I see now how I have changed, how I have softened, and let things in. So much can and does change but my heart still carries those same dreams. They are etched into my being. They are who I am, and what I live for every single day. They are what bring me the peace I seek when I am alone, they are what rise to the surface when I am lit up and swollen with inspiration; they are what make me smile and say "yes, this is what I want."

I just wonder where the years have gone. One moment they're in the palm of your hand and the next they're mist and veiled. One moment you're something and the next you're something else. Times change, they do. But even beneath the deep there is still just a girl and I am still the same, but I am so different.

And tonight, I'm feeling like a bloom; like the springtime that is by my side; like the rain feeding the earth, and the green below my feet, and the dew on the morning grass, and the breath I take when peace overwhelms me. Lately I have been reminded of what I want most in my life and it makes me feel euphoric, exhilarated, blissful, surreal. I think because for a long while there has been perhaps a disconnect, an unplugging of sorts, and you lose touch. For that I blame the cold and hardened winter months. I'm beginning to thaw.

This morning I walked outside into the misty morning sun, and it was quiet, and there were birds, and I felt the breeze and it has been so long, so long of a winter.

wayside wavering

bedside.

I've been sick, a reminder to stop and breathe and go within. The weather has been cold, damp, windy; naked trees, sullen skies and I've been thinking hard. I do wish I would set myself free from it all but not just yet. I've a path to explore and I'm curious, consciously naive.

As of right now I'm apparently pissed off, or frustrated at the least, mostly at myself, and I'm having trouble letting go. My oracle cards advised me of this very thing: release. It's autumn, letting go is a cardinal theme this time of year just as the trees do. But for myself, now is simply not the time. Maybe it will be maybe it wont, but these things take time and soon enough, carefully, courageously, we submit to our soul's wary words.

My mind is conflicted, as usual, anyone could tell you that, but I yearn for the day I have the strength to end the causes of my wavering ways. Only recently I understood my need for alone as I've been deprived of it and constantly poked and prodded at for some time now. I've been frustrated. I've vaguely acknowledged my need for more soul work but the heart hardly wins when the head is dabbling elsewhere. I sort of let that part of me go by the wayside and instead let myself be manipulated by my very own fears. I'm beginning to gather that perhaps sometimes what we need is a catalyst; something to catapult us in the right direction, and a lot of the time this process involves pain. Welcoming such things with open arms is an ever-elusive act but it's necessary nonetheless.