A Child of the World

I know that not every country in the world runs like ours at home in Canada. I know that different groups, children included, do not have the same rights and privileges that we have in Canada, but as a child of the world myself, this story (from February 1st) is really sad to me...

New Dehli, India is the host of the Commonwealth Games this year. For people who might not really know anything about the Commonwealth Games, (somehow I didn't), they started as the "British Empire Games" and have since become the "Commonwealth Games," with just over 53 countries (broken into more than 70 teams) competing in a range of sports. There are 10 core sports (like athletics, boxing, rugby sevens and hockey) and up to 7 optional sports chosen by the host nation (sports like archery, basketball, diving and triathalon). Our Aussie friends (as well as England, who gets to compete separately from the rest of the UK) do much better in these games than most olympics: Australia was the highest scoring country for 10 years of the games, England for 7, and Canada only for 1.

While I've never watched the fanfare myself, after reading about it the games sound like they'd be fun to go to. I'd have to say that if I were a competing athlete I'd be hoping the host country that year was somewhere exotic, i.e. not Hamilton, Ontario (sorry Hamilton), so I'd probably be excited to get a chance to go to India as part of a sporting event. The IOC website says that India is in a bid for the 2016 summer olympics, and the thought is that if this year's Commonwealth games go off well that maybe it will sway the bid in their favour for the 2016 games, so I'd imagine that India is under a lot of pressure to make sure that everything goes off without much being amiss (that whole 'being in the spotlight' thing. I'm having visions of days long ago when the poor were shuttled from the streets and into jails during large celebratory events to preserve a mightier cleaner vision of the city... or my days not-so-long-ago in Slave Lake, AB when the town would pay for the local vagrants to be bussed to a town a few hours north during the one-week summer festival so tourists didn't have to deal with them...

International competitions are ridiculously expensive, and surely every country that hosts a spectacle like this one goes through hardships on many levels to do it (talk to BC taxpayers this year, most are NOT happy). I'm not naive enough to think everything was done above-board even in my own wealthy and priviledged country as it prepared for the Olympics this year. However, I hope I'm safe in my assumption that we didn't have our small children working alonside their parents in the streets to get the job done quicker.

I've spent some time in New Dehli, and when travelling in India in general it was difficult to handle just being witness to the extreme differences in quality of life between and among people in different communities, towns and states. I think the point was even sharper having been raised in an environment of as much priviledge as I've always accepted as simply a 'Right' as a citizen of my country. When I say that I'm not referring to physical wealth per se, as my family certainly wouldn't have been thought of as wealthy, but more in terms of food, clean water, clothing, medical care, education, and being safe from the threat of guns and militant action. Maybe that's why this picture made me so sad.
 
Maybe the children in the photo are really just playing with some spare tools that are laying around while they wait for their parents to finish, and an overzealous or lazy journalist making assumptions behind the camera; After all, they're all clothed, none of them really appear to be working, right? Maybe the kids really just go hang out at the jobsite because they get fed for being there... maybe. Or, maybe this world we live in still has a long way to go.

Choices

After some time I decided to make a big move, changing continents, exchanging one culture for another, returning to an old favorite place. I thought it was interesting when I arrived (after the jetlag wore off and I could think in complete sentences) how much differently I see things between one place and another. In relationships, for example, it is almost as though I stop being who I am, melting into some other, different thing, forgetting to do the things needed to be whole, complete and happy. After a much broiled over process I chose to end my relationship in the hopes that we can both be happier and healthier apart, not holding any space for renewal or rekindling, but perhaps enough space for friendship in some time.


A few days ago now I went out for a short visit with some old friends. Friends whose closeness I sacrificed at the time in the name of my relationship, for someone who wanted me all to himself and in the end wasn't worth it, on any level. I felt regret on seeing them again, for what I had lost in the passing, for what could have been and wasn't. I also felt glad that there's room and time enough in life to make changes, try again, do things differently.


It's hard to believe it's already been 10 days since I left, it seems like only a day has passed; in the same breath it's hard to believe that it's only been 10 days since I left, it seems a lifetime... I've been thinking a lot in this bevvy of time to myself, about all of the times I've started to come into my own, into who I am, who I wanted to be, and the ways I let my relationships at the time, most often the romantic ones, take over my life and redirect me from the path that would lead me back to myself, to the things I value. I have been doing this since I was 15 really, and it both saddens and frustrates me to see the pattern and the way I have repeated and repeated it over time, as though my feet couldn't lift themselves from the ruts I'd created.


It's time now, to stand up, get out of the ruts, and walk a new path. Time to take responsibility for this life of mine; for who I am, and who I'm not; for who I want to be, and who I do not; for what I want to do, and what I do not. Time to go to bed for the night, and wake up in the morning back inside myself. Time to take a look around the inside and the outside and take stock of how it is, how it was, and how I want it to be.


While I do the best I can in the moment with what I have, I want to do better and I want to be more of that woman who shines in the back of my mind, that image of the kind of person I deserve to be in the world. Everything happens as it does for good reason, and choices appear when they're needed, so I'm making mine... I choose me... no more others, me... I choose me.

Heart

I am a heart divided. In one moment I am whole and content, living the life in my head rather than the one of my body. I see, I feel, I walk and I breathe as though I have taken the steps I know I need to, as though the difficult conversations have been had, and life is moving onward, toward healing and being whole. I can breathe, I take joy in the sunlight and the wind, in early morning bird calls and the sound of a favorite song on the radio.

Then

I trip

over some imaginary cord

and I'm

jolted

back into the life I'm truly living.

Decisions have been made but they lay inert. Conversations avoided once again, heavy, silent tears in the shower after an endless night of staring at the darkened ceiling overhead. Everything about me is weighted. At home I lead a dark cloud around with me that eats laughter and lightness and joy.

Am I depressed?

No, I don't think it's depression.

I think I'm disappointed.

Sadly and sorely disappointed.

I'm disappointed in myself for the way I'm living my life, for the decisions I make but don't put life behind, and for running in fear. I'm disappointed in myself that I can talk the talk, but don't walk the walk. I value openness and trust, kindness and honesty, but fear keeps me frozen and unable to act.

As I would tell anyone I love in the same position, I know that by choosing not to act I'm doing more harm than good, to us both, but it seems there's always one more reason why I should wait... a few more days, a week, until the end of the month... waiting, waiting, waiting. A family holiday, a medical checkup, a test, illness, a weekend plan, the list has potential to go on and on.

I have stopped writing. The same old story rolls through my head after nearly 6 months have gone by, and even I am tired of hearing the refrain on it's circuit through my mind and my heart. I've stopped being present in my life because I don't know what to say. If I am honest, it isn't even that I don't know what to say, it's that I don't want to say it. Don't want to be the cause of hurt and pain and disappointment and heartache, don't want to be added to a list of disappointments, though I know that is where this ends... for now.

The lifeforce energy of this Saturday
is one of heart... the universe conspires
with us all to act, speak, love and live
from 'heart.' I pray that I will wake up
Saturday morning to find the strength of
heart to return to myself with love, faith
and courage to be open, honest and kind
once again, so that I can once again
start to live my life
with heart.

In Silence

How do I help you know
to believe, to see
that you are not to blame
for me?

Where are the words
that could help you hear
that only your love
kept me going that year?

How do I make
the shape of my soul
visible
so you can see
how much your love
has changed me

You couldn't have loved me better
I couldn't have loved you more

I couldn't have loved you better

You couldn't have loved me more

My heart breaks anew every time
I see the new glimmer in your eyes
dampen and grow dimmer
my untidy reflection
causing you sorrow and pain
my best friend in the world

How do I find the words
to tell you how sorry I am
that I didn't love you better,
that I didn't love you the way you needed,
that I didn't give you more,
that I didn't help you up sooner,
that I didn't make you better,
that I didn't let you in deeper,
that I didn't have the words,
that I didn't know how to be anyone but me,
and that I couldn't have loved you more

How do I tell you, the inside-you,
that you are one of
the strongest and most
beautiful women that
I've ever met
that you are capable
of so many incredible things
in this world
if you only believe it yourself

How do I tell you that
the light that shines from your heart
could make shadows flee
from countless dark corners
and that I know this
as it has chased away mine

For someone who thinks herself
so verbal
so wordy
so talkative
screams come out in silence
and when I reach for words
they duck away from my tongue
hiding in the shadows
and never come
only tears
quiet, lonely, slow, sad, heavy tears

There are no words

and silence is what I'm left with

Wheels turning

Sorrows building

Heart loving

Eyes crying

Soul sighing

Lungs crushing

Silence

seasons change

Every morning this week the fog has been so thick that it seems I should be able to touch it, brush it away with my hand. Out my window you would swear there should be an ocean harbour, boats rocking gently in early morning waters. All you'd really see is a lawn, beyond that a field, beyond that a road lined by a barbed wire fence, and beyond that farmland. The nearest water is treatment plant freshwater resevoir a few clicks north.

This morning when I walked up to the door at work, a flock of 62 geese (yes, I really counted them (not my photo btw, found it online) as I stood fixed in the parking lot) flew over my head, already headed south for the winter. If I remember rightly, they didn't even get here until June this year, a bit behind schedule, and somehow watching the beginning of their departure now, in August, leaves me feeling desolate, sad and lonely. The beauty of the sunrise (which usually makes me stop a second to pause and marvel) was lost on me this morning when I looked out the window from my bed. It was only a couple of weeks ago that I got to wake with sun on my face, as it tickled my chin like a cat, gently and playfully rousing me from dreams. Now, the sun is barely on the horizon when I wake, and in a couple of weeks it will be dark on my morning run to work, and then even as I sit at my desk and start my day. It seems strange to say, but I feel like I'm losing a friend to the darkness.

Seasons change, every year, it is inevitable I know this. Our winter is long here in the prairie, staying from about October or November through April or May, bringing with it the darkness, which hangs outside my windows while I wake up, and returns before it is time to go home at the end of the day. Spring comes for May and June, Summer is here for July and part of August, and then Fall for 2 months to take us back to 6-8 m.o.n.t.h.s of winter.

Before I had lived somewhere else, somewhere Spring comes in March, Summer stays until October, and Winter only starts to peek out around Christmas, I never put much thought into our seasons. Before I spent time in Florida, India, the Philippines and other incredible places in SE Asia and found an endless summer, I never went much beyond simply resenting the -40 temperatures and the days of plugging my car in. Now as the briefest summer in my recollection starts to pull up post for Fall, it seems as though my home sweet home has lost its sweetness, and I long for greener (and warmer) pastures.

I look out the window now and the fog has nearly lifted as the sun starts to rise, painting a soft pink line along the horizon in a pale blue early morning sky. The lawn starts to sparkle as the dew catches a bit of early morning light, and the wheat field across the road is standing blonde and lovely. While the beauty of the prairies is not totally lost on me, I think this morning I will spend my coffee time planning a vacation...

The Drive

3 years ago in a whirlwind I got married, to a woman (surprising everyone, including myself!) I fell in love with almost overnight. She was joyful, inspired, excited about life, and so happy to be with me. We both had our “stuff,” but we were great together. Just being with her made me feel wonderful, a bright star in the sky, and we spent every available second together. In a matter of a few short months, she became my best friend, my lover, my confidante, my partner in life. It seemed at first that there was nothing we couldn’t do, if we did it together. We dreamt of a future together, painting one another pictures of what it might look like, how things might go. We talked about the way we had personal natures that could cause us to part, to drift away from one another into another lane, to live our lives independently while seeming to be side by side, and how it would be a daily choice, independent and in love, to be together.

The longer we were together, the bumpier the road she travelled seemed to become, and I watched her drift to drive along the shoulder, and then off alone on small, dark, overgrown side roads that eventually led her back to the main road, a little worse for wear, sometimes exhausted and scared, but still driving. I felt like I could offer the occasional lift, help mend a flat tire here and there, give the odd hand-up, but for the most part it seemed that she had to deal with the bumps and side tracks herself. In the beginning when I got a flat, or my windows got to dirty to see through, she would be there to help fix it up, get me back on the road again. I counted on her to be there.

As time went on her detours became longer and a bit more frequent. Increasingly, there were times she was too busy working just to keep herself on the road, and she didn’t seem to notice that I was only limping along in the lane, my tires making that heavy flap flap-flap noise they make when they’re flat. After awhile I came to realize that I couldn’t just wait for her to get there to help me fix things. I could see that it took a lot of effort for her to keep her own self on the road, and I started to take care of those other things myself. I learned new ways to patch tires, different methods of keeping the windows cleaner, and the headlights pointed in the right direction. Later when she was back up and running and wanted to help I was happy to see her, but there were fewer and fewer times when I looked for her to help, happy just to drive along beside her when we were both on the same path at the same time.

At first when she wasn’t beside me, I found myself jumping the tiny meridian, wildly and desperately yanking her back from the shoulder when I thought she was too close to the edge, away from the scary roads that were overgrown and dark, back into the lane beside me. Over time I learned that she needed to pull away a bit, for awhile, needed to drift through the dark and damp shadows that lined the side roads, and felt myself drifting as well. When on my own I worried about her, saw her eyes bleaken the further she got from me as the shadows set in. I drifted in my own lane, closer, farther, closer, farther, experimenting with how I felt with more and less distance between us. I needed time and space for myself too. Sometimes I would be in sight when our roads reconnected, other times I was off drifting along my own side road, returning to our drive after a time, at least in part.

As we each drifted and jolted about in our own lanes, I noticed that our shoulders became further apart as each of our lanes widened, and the dividing meridian became wider and higher each time, accommodating the wandering, the distances that grew between us, protecting us from crashing into one another when our paths came back together again. Each time this happened, when she was back in sight of me, or I was back in sight of her, we would try to resume the drive as best we could. We talked about the time spent apart, what was learned, what was lost, what was discovered, and what was uncertain, trying to look together anew to a redefined future.

Sometimes I was angry that she had left me alone and hadn’t been there to help me. I was sad that she hadn’t let me in to help her make it easier, or asked for help somewhere else. I was resentful that I had to take care of our things on my own, and that I had to labour alone keep the meridian from becoming overgrown and the shoulders clear enough for us to reconnect through. I was disappointed that the things I had allowed myself to believe about our future weren’t coming to be, and I was brokenhearted to have to let them go. Once I allowed those feelings to pass, I took to planting flowers in the widening meridian, clipping the hedges that ran along the shoulders, distracting myself with making the drive more enjoyable when I was alone. I remembered that it wasn’t her job to make me happy, that was my job, and I needed to start doing it.

Upon each return she talked and talked and talked about all the construction she was going to do, all of the modifications she was going to make to tune up her engine. I was hopeful that when she made those changes she wasn’t going to need to take so many detours, or that they might be less dark, less might be stolen from her, from us, in those times we were apart. I was excited about seeing more of the woman I first married, and returning to being more of the woman I was when we were first married. After some time though, I came to see that though the construction and modifications were things of her deepest desire, her truest heart, they were not things she could reliably act on. Changes would begin to come through, she started to do some things differently, and I got excited each time: hopeful about the future, I allowed some of the old hopes and dreams we'd painted together to come back to me, believing one more time that maybe they could really come to be. Once the high emotions had calmed themselves in both of us again, it was never very long though before things would return to ‘normal’ once more. She had the biggest dreams about the person she wanted to become, the kinds of things she knew she had to do to be happy, but she didn’t have enough left after the detours, whatever else was needed for it, to do any of the real work to get there and stay there. . . she seemed only able to take the very first step, spending time with the thought of changes.

Each time we drifted in our lanes, while either of us detoured, I felt the light of love and togetherness dim a little bit more in my own heart. I stopped depending on her to be there for me as a partner in life, and redefined our relationship so that I could be happy enough with what she could offer, when she could offer it. My heart was not strong enough to withstand the detours and absences without attaching to it feelings of rejection, abandonment, loneliness, sadness, anger, and disappointment. I replied with my own passive aggressive reactions of the same, and then punished myself for it. It was better for me, if I wanted to stay together (which I did), that I change what I expected from the relationship, and work with what I knew was there. From that point onward, I lived with my best friend, who I still loved with all my heart, and I didn’t ask any of those “lover,” or “partner” things of her, or myself, any longer. She was my best friend, and I would take that to be enough.

Through that time, I felt my passion, my fire for our relationship, the dreams I had for our future fade – I let them dissolve, I let them go. Instead I lived for the togetherness, the companionship and friendship that our relationship provided, even when our paths diverged. Our drives together were usually so nice, and without the expectations I held before, I started to be happy again in the time we spent together. The meridian was beautifully flowered; butterflies and ladybugs were coming around, things felt pretty good for me, and I found the way to be happy, together.

The point came though, only weeks ago, when I realized that she wasn’t happy, if only because she told me. Friendship, companionship, wasn’t what she came back for. Though she tried to stay on the road with my new definition, her tires were making that flap-flap-flap noise that I recognized, and I finally understood: it wasn’t working, this redefinition, and it wasn’t just me.

Timing coincided that at this point that suddenly my love was to be off on her own adventure for a bit of time, and I had some time to be on my own. I found myself squealing my tires, splashing through puddles and letting the mud drip in gobs messily down my windows before wiping it off, spinning endless donuts in the sandpits with the dust flying up in thick gray clouds around me, before pealing off back into my lane again. I could see now that in the time we had both been trying to make it work, trying to get enough out of what the other was able to share, we had been dampening our own spirits, excitement and energy for life, and hope for the future. I had been expecting less out of life, and of course the universe had been happy to oblige. I felt like I had just driven out of a foggy haze that my eyes had become adjusted to over time, and though my heart held a heavy sadness, I was also elated, free, lighter. That I when I knew — it was time for me to head out on my own road again, to let my friend, my love, rebuild her own road.

I didn’t build up a story around why, as I did before; I didn’t try to reach a new level of understanding about where it went wrong or what was missing, as I did before; I didn’t try to find a ‘clear and concise explanation’ for problem and solution, as I did before; I just finally listened. Listened to the voice that had been whispering to me for awhile, to the knowing our bodies hold when we take the time to hear them - it was time, that path had been laid out in front of us, and I was not going to drive it any longer.

Now to throw a bit of a bigger curve into it... in the time my love was off on her adventure she did some of her own evaluation, and came to many of the same conclusions I had. However, she returned to our drive with renewed vigour for making the changes needed on the path to becoming the beautiful shining person she knew she was, and has thrown herself headlong into weeding and deconstructing the meridian between our lanes, and rebuilding the road we were once driving together toward the future. From where I drift, I see so many shades of the shining, excited, joyful woman I first met, participating in her life from all directions. She seems to really see the areas of her life that have been holding her back, and her desire to make life-altering changes is flaring out from within. Sadness and loneliness, grief and distance still lurk behind her eyes, largely I think because she can feel that I am no longer sharing the road with her, and somewhere, sometimes, she knows that for me it is too late. My best friend wants once again to be my partner, my lover, my wife, but that piece of me is no longer here.

“Where is my wife?” she seems to ask me, and I don’t know how to tell her, “she is already gone”. These reflections, I know, shine back at me to show me what she sees when she looks into me, and I am further aware that I am broken, I’m missing some parts, and it is time for me to put myself back together again, to make some repairs.

That daily choice we talked about when we first came together is in front of me each day, and these days I don’t make it for the same reasons I once did.

Today I stay because I feel badly for wanting something else, for wanting to leave, even though I am already gone.

I stay because I don’t know how to leave, but not because I want to stay.

I stay because I’m scared she will fall back onto those dark paths if I leave, and I wish her light, and happiness, and love... above all, life.

Ultimately, I have set my path, and I guess at this point I have also set hers. I hope, with all of my heart, that the changes she needs to make to feel happy, to love herself and the world again, are ones that she is ready to make. I hope that she is ready to build herself a beautiful road, lined with flowers and trees, with the beautiful and bright access roads that take her on scenic detours with new life-changing adventures whenever the fancy strikes her.

She is smart and funny, kind and courageous, beautiful and strong, devoted and passionate. The gifts she carries out into the world are many, and she hasn’t yet come to recognize that many of them shine within her, waiting to be shared.

Though happiness seems to have been a fair-weather friend in the past, it is obvious they have established a new relationship, and I have joy in my heart when I see it. The road we’ve shared has not been without its share of potholes, pit stops, accidents and flat tires, but it has, without a doubt, been beautiful. My life, my heart, and hers, will be forever altered, our life together a cherished gift that I will forever hold in my heart, without regret.

If only I knew what the next step should be, how to move forward from this place, what to do. Instead, here I sit, here I stay, for the wrong reasons.

August Update

August 13, 2008 (From the old blog)

An update on where things are... Dad died last September, the 20th (which is of course the same day as Sadie's birthday, perfect)... I moved back to Calgary mid-October after spending an extra couple of weeks with my Mom; she and my brother really had a rough transition after Dad died. The memorial service was nice, fire and pizza and beer in the backyard, just what dad wanted. I'm sad he died, but accept that death is a part of life, so I don't dwell. I am happy to have my life to live.
Calgary was okay, but it just didn't fit any more. I was resentful for awhile to have been back home again, as I still wanted so much to be in Korea. Some days I still wish I was there, but most days I'm happy to be home and moving on with life. Living in Korea kind of meant that life was on pause... all things in the "real" world (back here in Canada) stay where there were mostly, and nothing moves until you come back. I had a hard time finding work when I came home, despite the fact that everyone was supposedly screaming for staff... overqualified, was the message I kept getting. Just because I workED management doesn't mean I want to do it anymore, but I had a really hard time getting into anything frontline. I tried a few part-time and short-term jobs, but nothing really stuck. I worked (ugh) retail, worked as someone's admin assistant (not something I should do with my life!), and then drove a CAT740 rock truck - awesome fun, driving around in those big trucks is like playing a video game all day. However, it also meant 28 days with no time off, 12 hour days, no time for anything but work. I enjoyed it while it lasted though!

In May grad school started. I didn't think it would be too much work, but I wasn't really sure what to anticipate. I have had all sorts of feelings about the program so far, but for the most part I've been really happy with it. It is a lot of work... Sadie complains about how little time we have to spend time together (my butt is normally in a chair with a laptop in my lap), but thanksfully she's patient. The courses have been really interesting so far, and though sometimes it feels overwhelming, I really am learning a lot. The self-discovery methods that they use drive me crazy sometimes (i.e. figure it out for yourself teaching), but I'm blown away by the amount a person learns that way! So overall, I'm happy with it. While I was driving truck I was working a 60-80 hour week and doing 2 spring intensive courses (where they squish a full course into 6 weeks). THAT was NUTS. I'm not planning on doing that again, what a time that was!!

Now, Sadie and I have moved to a small town, where the pace of life is slower, people smile a lot more, and I can hear the birds out my window all day while I'm studying. She is working at the hospital, and seems to have finally found a job that she loves and is great at, because she comes home sparkly and happy at the end of the day. It really makes me happy to see her find something she's great at that makes her happy; she was loving teaching in Korea and decided to come home instead of waiting her contract out, so I'm glad there's something extra for her here too! We have a great little 3-bedroom house (that we're renting); we moved out of a basement suite in Calgary, and I have just one word: WINDOWS!!! What a difference in quality of life, just to have the sun shining into our home!

Out pets are up in number again, and we are soon going to have to apply for an animal farm license! We have Sadie's cat Lotus, who has now been to Korea and back again; Nimma and Maggie, a maltese and mini yorkie who joined our family while we were in Korea and came home with us; Mila and Molly, the kittens I got from my brother's place when I first got back; Leroy - the kitten we rescued from beneath mom's neighbour's deck (he fit in the palm of my hand, and had no interest in being rescued, but after 2 days of warm milk and the fireplace mat we had him convinced!), and Neera - latest addition to the family, rescued from the Millet Animal Rescue Centre, she's an Australian Shephard/Heeler cross, and she's lovely! Like I said, soon we'll need a farm permit!

I just had a job interview at the hospital last week to work as a Psychology Assistant, and I think it's something I'm really going to love doing. I'm still waiting to hear back from them, hoepfully it will be today. My courses finish up this term on the 18th, and I'll have until the 8th of September before they start again (2 weeks off, WOOHOO!!!!), thank god! I'll go up and visit mom during that time, see how things are going up there.

Today is an exciting day - our first Godson, whose name is Nattan, is being born today!! His mamma is booked for a C-Section, he decided he was going to jump out feet-first, and the doctors didn't agree it would be a good idea, so here we are! It was scheduled for 11 this morning at the PLC in Calgary, but I know they weren't even in by 10:15, so it likely wasn't until later. I am *so* exicted to go down and see him, we are going to leave as soon as Sadie gets home from work. And, to top it off, we're going to bring Aidan back with us until the weekend when his mamma and the new baby are out of the hospital, which is also going to be wonderful, woohooo!

So all in all, things have been going well. I have 4 papers to write in the next 5 days, must go.