Sunday, 31 October 2010
I have a dilemma. I have been told, on occasion that I have a big mouth. I have also been told that my voice doesn't carry. Huh? Sometimes I give voice to my opinion in an attempt at being honest and in an attempt to bring about a change. A change I perceive as necessary but more importantly, as possible. I get on roll with something and can NOT, not say anything. I really try to be diplomatic. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, as that is not my style and is never, ever my intention. I am doomed to the endless adolescent pursuit of being 'liked' over and above the nobler pursuits of adulthood. But it is frustrating when you can't get someone to see the brilliance ( oui, mes amis, being funny here) of the argument or the clarity of the point. What is up with not being able to change the world? I know, I know... blah, blah, blah... one step at a time...be the change that you want to see....and all the rest of those inspirational homilies, but precisely when, should one just shut up? Sometimes, kindness itself, just doesn't seem to be enough and then... small voice comes out of big mouth from soft heart?
Wednesday, 20 October 2010
Sometimes a friend introduces you to someone so remarkable, that you realize (not that you actually forgot) that there are so many different ways 'to be' in the world. Here is someone who lives quite peacefully right smack dab in the thick of things. Visiting him and spending an afternoon on his property with his goats and his dog and the creek and the view just puts everything in place for me. He is so not preachy or braggy. He just seems so content and so sane. Even though his home is rather off the grid,' isolated ' is not a word that I would use to describe him. 'Full' would be much better. Thank you Lynn and Nick for a wonder-full afternoon. The pasta and the wine just added to overall pleasure of spending that time with you.
Monday, 11 October 2010
Today I am trying to figure out how to protect myself from this feeling of suffocation. Let me try to explain. I am being suffocated by FOOD. Someone in my family (hint: it is not me) has a food hoarding addiction and is filling the basement with it. There are canned tomatoes, packages of pasta, cans of pumpkin, gigantic bags of flour, surplus baking supplies, bags of coffee, sacks of potatoes, a huge jar of marinated artichoke hearts and other stuff I am starting to forget about. In addition, I have my own small stash of homemade jams and garden tomatoes which is what the basement is for, in my mind. Every time 'this person' goes out, I am in fear of what he will bring home to store in the basement. Inevitably, he returns with some 'deal' that he couldn't pass up because it is something we use and will need again in the future...so into the basement it goes. Things are starting to get piled on top of other things. This is BAD. Of all the things that aggravate me, and trust me, there are many, this one thing is my worst nightmare. How do I get it to stop? or at least to slow down? I have tried pretty much all approaches except... the ultimatum. Now, here's the kicker...he wants to get a freezer! Where is the oxygen tank?
Sunday, 3 October 2010
I am loosely using this term to describe an episode (a Proust moment, perhaps) that recently stopped me and took me on a little trip back in time. We all have these moments, don't we? Something sets it in motion...a word...a smell...a look...it could be anything really. Suddenly, we are 'back there' again in all its glory... happy or sad or any of a million other feelings. For me, and not to belabour the issue, I time-travelled back to Cowgirl. Right there, in the woods on the most beautiful of fall afternoons I suffered ' a little death ' of sorts. The details are not so important but here they are anyway. I met a guy and his old, black & white dog on the trail. The dog had a pink, elastic bandage on one of her front legs. That was it. That pink bandage was all it took. My boarding pass. I melted on the spot as she gently pushed into me (the way old dogs do) and let me stroke her head and ears. She had some stitches on her neck, along a ragged incision from her recent surgery, and her guy said she wasn't feeling "so good these days". The tone of his voice said it all. We continued on our walk and slowly came back to life.