Thursday, December 20, 2012

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

snow globe

I decorated another family's Christmas tree
while said family members were putting out garbage,
cleaning the fridge, doing dishes, brushing teeth for bed etc
I rooted through boxes of ornaments
representing a collection of years
kids, frenzy, fury, gut laughter, loss, gain.
So like a voyeur
I inspected these small personal reserves:
painted play dough star, "Christmas 2001",
little green and red train,
styrofoam dove,
red snowflake made out of popsicle sticks and yarn,
felt Christmas cowboy boot,
tiny wooden record player,
glass icicle,
fancy rocking horse with missing leg.
The typical nostalgia came
funny the way the mind rewinds,
and suddenly I'm eight stringing popcorn and cranberries
on a string,
playing trivial pursuit listening to Oscar Peterson,
drinking gingerale punch stealing handfuls of ritz crackers,
wondering what the adults are laughing so hard at,
sneaking a sip of sherry
wearing my over sized Oilers jersey
to my knees no.99
over 2 sweaters nan knit me
skating circles on circles,
on circles
on the backyard rink
till I couldn't feel my face -
not caring one
Someone said to me yesterday
to my eyes
dead on:
"I hate Christmas".
 I saw the soreness
that takes over,
and in my own way
i get it...
 You can't run around your whole life
with your mittens all encrusted with ice.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

So What?

The perfect song with which to embrace the entrance of winter in Ottawa town.

Jazz geekery installment:
In this piece of staggering footage - enter three gigantic legends of jazz: Miles Davis on trumpet, John fucking Coltrane (sorry - couldn't help it) on tenor and Paul Chambers on bass!?! Holy Crap. I feel I should be bowing down to the gods of modern technology for giving me the opportunity to see this video. The song is the first track From Miles Davis epic masterpiece: Kind of Blue. If you haven't already, dear reader, look into it.
I love how this music excites me and calms me down simultaneously.

 "Aesthetic facts, in jazz as in all the arts, are proof of an old saying from the 1960s: 'Feelings are facts'." -Stanley Crouch

Until next time, cats.

Tuesday, December 04, 2012


This word has been bouncing around in my head over the past few weeks or so. I first heard of it while walking the Camino. It comes from "the ancient Galacian language", originally from the Latin word "ultra". I was walking mainly through the province of Galacia which is why I must have heard it spoken a few times.

A couple of days after returning home I discovered what this word meant and how it was used. It was a common greeting used by medieval pilgrims walking the Camino that means essentially, "walk further", "walk higher", "move forward", or "onward". So basically, the people walking the path were encouraging each other to 'keep going' in their standard greeting to each other as they passed along the way. I can see, after having walked it, how appropriate and great this is...considering the substantial amount of discomfort one can be in after hours and hours of walking a day, and how easy it can be in certain moments to want to give up completely. Even just a simple encouragement from a stranger can mean a lot in a situation like that.

As I so often do, I started concocting cheesy life metaphors with this word. After returning from Spain, the basic theme of my life seems to be "Move forward...Ultreia". I do feel like tatooing this word somewhere on my body where I can always see it, to serve as a constant reminder that this is now, and shall ever be, what my life is about. Yes this may seem somewhat juvenile or naive or what-have-you. But ironically at a time when, by all logical standards I should be feeling the most disillusioned, bitter, and hardened against life I actually feel the opposite - for the most part. Like he universe has given me a second chance. To do this thing right. To try not to be hankered too much by the past.

I also feel like a closet zealot, because I have the urge quite often lately to grab random people by the shoulders, look them squarely in the eye and say something along these lines: "Don't you get it? This is all you've got, this is your one shot: your one tiny blip of time on this spinning planet. So run like all hell towards your ultimate desire and hope. Chase it. Because its actually true that today could be all you have. A few hours, days, weeks or years, and you'll be gone. A memory. And so will all of the glory and brevity of  this: your life."

Of course, I'm not that crazy. So don't worry - I've never actually done this.

On the total flip side and another at a coffee shop the guy at the counter asked me how my day was going, and when I gave him the standard response ("pretty good, thanks") he told me that he thought I looked 'somewhat sad and angry'?!?! This caught me completely off guard because I didn't think I was feeling this way at all. Does my face totally betray me? Wowsers. Anyway, after thinking about it a little, I realized that under the surface, some core part of me does feel a little like this. Because that's life. Sadness and anger make up a big part of it at times. The daily coping, and struggling, and...just living. It's the dark side of the glory. And I'm okay with it. Always have been.

There you have it.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

cure it.


Sunday, November 11, 2012


Happy remembrance day.

Wednesday, November 07, 2012


 Dich wundert nicht des Sturmes Wucht
You are not surprised at the force of the storm—
you have seen it growing.
The trees flee. Their flight
sets the boulevards streaming. And you know:
he whom they flee is the one
you move toward. All your senses
sing him, as you stand at the window. The weeks stood still in summer.
The trees' blood rose. Now you feel
it wants to sink back
into the source of everything. You thought
you could trust that power
when you plucked the fruit;
now it becomes a riddle again,
and you again a stranger.

Summer was like your house: you knew
where each thing stood.
Now you must go out into your heart
as onto a vast plain. Now
the immense loneliness begins.

The days go numb, the wind
sucks the world from your senses like withered

Through the empty branches the sky remains.
It is what you have.
Be earth now, and evensong.
Be the ground lying under that sky.
Be modest now, like a thing

ripened until it is real,
so that he who began it all
can feel you when he reaches for you.

-Rainer Maria Rilke, book of hours.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Music is my Boyfriend

"I Follow Rivers" - (Lyyke Li cover by European band 'Triggerfinger') ....note the coffee mug water instrument. Bottom line is I could listen to this guys voice all day. I love Europe:
"Fool for You" - Curtis Mayfield bringing us the goods. Classic beauty of a song:

"Lotta Love to Give" - Craig Cardiff's very sweet version of one of my all time favorite Lanois tunes. I love this video - clearly pre or post gig...and note the extremely sheepish dedication at the beginning(It makes me laugh out loud):
'All the winds are cold. But not yet. It's not yet December.'
So please exuse me while I cuddle up with my earphones. Peace.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Campo de Estrellas

I've been procrastinating in writing this blog post as it seems almost impossible to know where to start in trying to encapsulate the experience of my Camino. I say "my" Camino because that is exactly what it was. One of the first things I heard when I started out from a woman who had walked it a few times was that every single pilgrimage is totally unique. No two are the same. She also told me, and quite rightly, "you meet exactly who you are supposed to meet on the way. So don't worry about it or think about it." Wow...was that ever true. Over the past weeks since returning home I have been doing a whole TON of processing the experience and what it meant for me. This is an ongoing thing and I have a hunch that it will continue well into the future.

I'm still not really in a place where I'm ready to "delve" over the internet. It's still pretty fresh and a lot of stuff, but what I did want to talk in this first post was how I first heard about the Camino and one of the reasons I decided to walk it. One of major factors had to do with an album by a Canadian Jewel of a musician - a violin player (or fiddler), composer, producer - by the name of Oliver Schroer. He walked the Camino with 2 friends, and carried his violin and portable recording equipment with him on his back (this fact is slightly unfathomable to me...I cant even imagine how hard that must have been at times)...he stopped in random churches along the road and recorded songs he made up in these churches. The resulting album entitled "Camino" is one of the most beautiful albums that I own. You may not be a violin fan, heck - you could be a hard-core industrial or death metal fan. You may claim to hate music even...but if you ever hear this album you will be moved by it. Unless you are a stone. (Do yourself a gigantic favour and buy it. Seriously.)

I first heard this album in 2006 and will never forget the feeling I had after hearing the first few notes of the first song of the album - "Field of Stars". It turned a key in a lock in some long hidden inner room.

In 2007 Oliver Schroer was diagnosed with an aggressive form of Leukemia. He passed away in 2008. One month before his death he had a concert in Toronto entitled "Oliver's last concert on the tour of This Earth!". When I found out about this concert me and a few other friends whose lives were also somewhat altered by his "Camino" album were on the net at the same time trying to secure tickets to this concert. We knew the moment they went on sale it would be crazy. As it turned out we all failed. The concert was sold out within 15 minutes of the tickets going on sale. I think more that any other, that concert was one I really really wish I could have seen.

He had a blog on his site throughout the last months( and literal days) of his life, talked about his upcoming concert, talked about it after it happened, talked about his life, his music, his reflections on life, creativity, his motivations in doing all he had done in his  life, the insights he was gleaning as his was drawing to a close etc. I followed this blog and was more than floored by it. I was stunned.  Here is a man who lived so absolutely WIDE AWAKE. All throughout his life he lived this way - so beautifully. It was incredible to observe someone travelling into their own death with so much strength, levity, creativity and dignity. And what an incredible thing for him to share!

I suppose you get this gist here: in a nutshell this man and his album, and ultimately his life, had a very profound effect on me. Ofcourse he is not my only inspiration for embarking on the pilgrimage...but I guess after the fact, I feel super thankful to him for planting the idea...and just for the music which now means even more to me after having walked the path than it did before!

For me one of the things I missed the most while in Spain was music - there was lots of music in the city centers - but not during the eights hours of walking a day. I remember many times while walking having music in my head....and Olivers songs were often very much at the forefront of my mind as I stepped out in the mornings onto these mind-blowing landscapes....or looking up at the "field of stars" in a rural town in Spain, bellyfull of wine, and happier than I've been in years.

The fact of his having had Cancer didn't really even occur to me as I made the decision to walk the Camino. All I thought about was the music (and the sounds he recorded of his boots hitting the path and church bells, cow bells,  and other camino sounds). It was only after coming back home, and finally listening to the album again - that the significance of what he went through, combined with my connection to the music, fully hit me. A major theme of my walk, not surprisingly, was coming to terms with my own Cancer "trip", and the myriad ways that it has effected me and altered me as a human being (on the tour of this earth!). This was not really my just kindof happened. Classic Camino styles.

Anyway, the first time i heard "field of stars" after coming home the thing undid me. I stood in the middle of a room at my folks as flashes of the road and faces and sunsets and forests came instatnly to my mind, and I broke into the dreaded "ugly cry". This emotional response actually surprised me. But after thinking about it...I don't see why it should have. It makes complete sense. I still can't really listen to the album yet without a slight I avoid it while in public!

I guess this is my testament to the sheer power of really change things.

Here is a quote from one of Oliver Schroers journal entries from his own Camino which he did in 2004. (Excerpts from this journal can actually be found on his site - link above):

"El Camino. The Road...
It is continuous, unbroken, yet changing.
The one constant is the sound of footsteps – the heartbeat of the pilgrimage..."

Here is Oliver's "Field of Stars". Enjoy.

Sunday, October 07, 2012

Patty says it all

We are swimming with the snakes at the bottom of the well
So silent and peaceful in the darkness where we fell
But we are not snakes and what's more we never will be
And if we stay swimming here forever we will never be free
I heard them ringing the bells in heaven and hell
They got a secret they're getting ready to tell
It's falling from the skies
It's calling from the graves
Open your eyes boy, I think we are saved
Open your eyes boy, I think we are saved
Let's take a walk on the bridge right over this mess
Don't need to tell me a thing baby, we already confessed
And I raised my voice to the air
And we were blessed
It's hard to give
It's hard to get
But everybody needs a little forgiveness
We are calling for help tonight on a thin phone line
As usual we're having ourselves one hell of a time
And the planes keep flying over our heads
No matter how loud we shout

Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey
And we keep wavin and wavin our arms in the air but we're all tired out
I heard somebody say today's the day
Big old hurricane she's blowing our way
Knockin over the buildings
Killing all the lights
Open your eyes boy, we made it through the night
Open your eyes boy, we made it though the night
Let's take a walk on the bridge right over this mess
Don't need to tell me a thing baby, we already confessed
And I raise my voice to the air
And we were blessed
It's hard to give
It's hard to get
It's hard to give
But still I think it's the best bet
Hard to give
Never gonna forget
But everybody needs a little forgiveness
Everybody needs a little forgiveness 

Thursday, October 04, 2012

End O the road.

End of the world as we know it.

Although this is not my photo it is exactly what I was looking at last night....
But it was brighter, and red and pink and purple and so intense that, in certain moments, it literally took my breath away. I sat with my box of ´´Don Simon´´ (extremely cheap wine..too cheap, in fact) and friends and took it in. For the second time, I might add. I´ve become a Spain sunset addict. As I walked back down to the city from the lighthouse where I watched the sunset, I had the distinct sense of walking back into the rest of my life. Crrrrrazy.

I am now back in the big city (Santiago) after having spent some days in Finisterra and Muxia. They are two beautiful ocean villages and I won´t even try to explain the beauty of these places right now. All I will say is: you must go - whomever you may be. I spent some time at the beach, walked in sand, sat on giant rocks, ate chiporones (like Calamari but better), listened to massive ocean roar and felt its spray, collected shells, ate pulpo (octopus...dear God what will I do without this now!), saw two guys walk down the beach with absolutely nothing on but their packs, listened to a wonderful french woman sing Edith Piaf to me!! Awesome. Anyway, I thought about my trip. I thought about my life. I wrote. I watched Spanish fishermen in their dory's and thought about Newfoundland.

It is a strange thing to be at the end of, what for me, was quite an epic journey. I have a lot of mixed feelings about leaving Spain right now. Part of me wants to escape to the Southern part of the country and drink jugs of Sangria in Andalusia for about 6 months, then head to Morocco, then to Africa etc etc.


The ´´wanderlust´´ has taken firm hold it seems. 

So in a day I will come home, sing at the wedding of a kindred the next day, I´m sure share some stories of my trip with folks, get a haircut. Beyond that the world feels so very wide open to me. I guess this is a good thing. It´s just a little bit ´´twilight zone´´.

Anyway, I will post more ´´highlights´´ of my Camino when I have some time to process. It´s all way too immediate right now! So stay tuned for pics and stories.

Adios for now - coming ´atcha straight from the beautiful city of Santiago. Awwww yeah.

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Santiago and beyond

Hello from some tiny village in Spain who´s name I can´t currently remember!!

It´s now day 12 (I think) on the Camino and what an insane 13 days it has been!!

I´ve walked through rain, sun and many blisters...made many friends, walked up and down and up and down countless hills, valleys, fields etc...and had probably gallons of wine at this point.

Oy vey!

It is so hard to try and encapsulate this insane journey but I´ll try.

I guess the most important thing of note is that I made it to the destination point of most pilgrims: Santiago de Compostella!! It was a glorious day walking into the city, after having walked through at least 3 days of rain. You can´t imagine the elation walking up to a cloudless brilliant day, knowing I was entering Santiago. It ended up to be an amazing reunion of so many of the pilgrims I had met and lost rack of over the previous was like a giant pilgrim celebration and it seemed like everywhere I turned I bumped into someone I had travelled with. It was truly amazing.

The days leading up to the entrance into Santiago were suddenly packed with pilgrims as 3 main routes converged. After many days of walking with just a few, it was suddenly a party of walkers and every bar along the way was basically standing room only!! the air was full of anticipation and it was an exiting time leading up to the big day.

After an incredible day in Santiago saying hello´s and goodbyes to so many I am into my second day travelling to ´´Finisterre´´ which was once the end of the known world. It is, essentially, the post-script, of the Camino that not too many do. It was my original intention to do only this part of the Camino so it is great to be starting it now. Hopefully tomorrow at some point I will see the ocean...and man...I can´t wait. I am currently travelling with three Slovenians and a Brit and am having an amazing time with them. And of course there are the countless others who are walking who I also feel like I know. It´s a little international village of nomads here. Its hard to put into words what it is like.

Today I walked about 37 K. It´s the longest day so far, but it is amazing how your feet start to adapt. (Athough I am nursing a few blisters)I think the Camino is one of the only places on earth where it is completely socially acceptable to shove your nasty blister covered foot in someones face, and compare injuries. It´s hilarious. Many hours are spent together taking care of random foot problems. Just this afternoon myself and Dan (the Brit) were soaking our toes in buckets of salt water. How´s that for a snapshot of the Camino!

Although the journey is largely about the people you meet, it is also an interior one, and a physical one. The two seem to go together well, and it is such a gift to be walking through some of the most beautiful landscapes i have ever seen without seeing anyone in front or behind me.

It is a truly delicious kind of alone-ness, and a feeling I'm sure will be hard to replicate when this is over. So I am relishing every moment.

Obviously there is so much more I could write but it is WAY past my bed time.

Hopefully I´ll be able to update soonish?? Who knows.

Much Love from the way.

Friday, September 21, 2012

Miles to go before I sleep...

Hola everyone!

Welcome to my first post from the Camino. I am right now in a teeny tiny little village in Galatia (Spain) called ´´Barbadello´´ . I have walked approximately 20K today and my feet are feeling it big time!

It is hard to know what to say and where to start as there is soooo much that has happened here already. I feel as if I´ve lived a lifetime in the 5 days I´ve been here. I guess I´ll start by letting you know that when I arrived at this little ´´auberge´´ today, the first three people that I met were from OTTAWA! I almost fell over from pure shock! And none of the three knew each other before now! Unreal!

I have walked between 15 and 20 K each day so far...give or take a few here and there. I wish I could adequately describe the beauty of this is impossible. Each day I climb mountains, walk through fields, forests, tiny ancient towns that, if I were to try and describe them you probably wouldn't believe me. As many of you know I have been to Europe quite a few times and seen a whole lot...but there is nothing that has compared to this experience.

There are pilgrims here from every corner of the world and I meet new people every day. It is fascinating...and astonishing how some of the 60 to 80 year olds are kicking my ass in terms of their supreme  ´´walking´´ abilities! I kid you not.

So far I have acquired a couple of blisters, feet that are beyond sore...and other physical discomforts, but the advantages to walking ´¨the way´´ far outweigh the pain. And I am slowly coming to realize that the discomfort is all a part of the experience. I am actually appreciating learning to walk through the pain. There is a certain satisfaction that comes with that.

OK - so since it is impossible for me to say all that I want to say here are some highlights:

  • First night, Anton, Spanish bar owner personally driving me to find a hotel as everything in the tiny place I was starting at was full. He took me to a fresh spring to fill my water.
  • My first 2 days literally in the mountains of Galatia in the morning of my first day on the Camino walking through clouds. 
  • Having Octopus bought for me on the house by random Spanish stranger at a Tapas bar...and fresh cheese that had been made that day. Wow.
  • Last night staying in one of the oldest monasteries in the western hemisphere!
  • Meeting 2 amazing semi retired Canadian women and laughing till we cried talking about their adventures on the Camino. Hilarious.
  • Going to a mass in an ancient church where the priest played a rousing Spanish song with the refrain ´´Ole, Ole, Ole!!!!´´ during the Eucharist!! While passing the peace he forced us all the hug each other - which was especially awkward for the German pilgrims! Ha!
  • Stopping for ´´Cafe con leche´´ every 5 K! Best coffee ever in the universe. Seriously.
  • Realizing that I can actually speak pretty decent Spanish! Who knew? (Thank you April and Tony!)
  • Drinking wine with strangers every single night. There is not a night that has gone by where I haven't consumed a whole lot if it. Dirt cheap here. I love this land.
  • Tonight's one yet.
  • Watching a soccer match on TV with a bunch of Spaniards. You havent lived till you´ve seen this. 
  • Reaching the top of a 12k climb straight uphill. Euphoria. There have been many moments like this. 
  • Feeling suddenly part of a transient world family. Its amazing how close to people you are without even really knowing them. I have had so many amazing encounters with strangers. 
  • The amazing feeling of walking through the mountains and feeling like you are the only one there. I´ve never in my life had this feeling before.
  • Knowing that every single day is a brand new adventure. Literally. 
OK ' I could go on and on but I need to go wash my clothes and hang them and drink wine and eat dinner with the Ottawa contingent! Craziness!

Much love to ya´ll from ´´El Camino´´.

Friday, September 14, 2012

before i go.

A new depth of sadness rose up in me the other day
as I walked down the street I thought it was choking me.
An unguarded moment that slipped past.
So sneaky
that my eyes clouded over.
I imagined a smaller version of myself curling up like a little ball on the sidewalk
knees to chest.
But I only paused briefly, clenched my fists, kept walking.

It is in this way that you enter, silently, into my days.
Disrupting my futile attempts at control.

Last week i dreamt I had been tied to a chair in a room
and gagged.
I looked out of the small window of the room and saw you walking by.
I tried to yell, but you didn't hear me -
      My mouth full of cloth.

Daily I try, in my way, to die to this.
To kill whatever it is that needs to be killed
Inside of me.

But there are the days I forget why.
So instead i'll struggle to remember what your voice sounded like
or the quiet way that it cleared a space in me.

The confusion chips away at your image
Your face fades though I try to reconstruct it
piece by piece
with my fingertips.


So now I'm like a leafless tree in late fall.
and waiting for the cold



Friday, September 07, 2012

Rain in Spain

 Spain bound

Hi all! 

So seven days from today I'll be boarding a plane bound for Madrid with nothing but a backpack and a whole lot of hope in my somewhat exhausted heart.

The goal is to walk a portion of the 'Camino De Santiago', an ancient pilgrimage also known as 'The way of St. James' which stretches across northern Spain. For some info on it check here. It's been a long held desire to embark on 'the way', and I wasn't expecting it to come so soon...but due to life events and some serendipity it's pretty obvious that now is the time. I just hope my body (and my feet!) will hold up. I also hope some of my Spanish will magically come back to me.

BTW - Many thanks to former pilgrims (Ruth, Kate - you guys rock!) who have inspired me and reminded me of the light at the end of the current tunnel I'm in, which of course include loads of Spanish wine and life changing encounters on 'the road'.

Transition is the name of the game for me right now, which is part of why the camino fits in so many ways. As I write this I am in Guelph up to my eyeballs in boxes boxes and more boxes. The accumulation of 36 years of my life is now lying in boxes, crates, bags of various sizes awaiting transport. It definitely doesn't look like much from where I sit right now! Anyway, life for the past week has been a packing marathon (and yes - I am right now procrastinating). Tomorrow the marathon will continue as I load up a van, head to the hammer to store stuff, head to Ottawa to drop the rest off, head back to Toronto 2 days later for an oncology follow up app (!!), pick up my passport , pack my backpack, and head to Spain. 


My head is spinning from all of the planning, organizing, emotional and literal upheaval, and the burgeoning of massive life change that is now commencing. A tidal wave of feelings is always on the verge of washing over me - sadness, excitement, fear, apprehension, hope, name it - I'm probably feeling it. It's some juicy stuff, I tell you! I'm not gonna lie though - as 'educational'  and 'character building' as the whole  'starting over' experience is, I look forward to when its over.

So, due to my insatiable love of quotes, here is the latest I am clinging to right now....coming 'atcha from a brilliant Tibetan Buddhist nun, Pema Chodron. It reminds me of why I'm embarking on pilgrimage at this stage in life:

"When we approach life as an experiment we're willing to try it this way and that way, because either way we have nothing to lose...if it's time for something to flourish - it will. If it's not time - it won't. We can just step forward with curiosity, wondering where this experiment will lead."

One more step along the path...Camino, here I come.


Thursday, August 16, 2012


"Life without risk is Disneyland"
 -Douglas Coupland

True risk. 
It requires immense courage to live ones most authentic life. 
We all choose, in big and small ways, between what makes us comfortable and what brings us alive. 
And I think the vast majority of folks choose the former. 
And I think its so easy to label those that choose risk as "reckless", "naive" or "crazy". I guess that's how its been throughout all of history. 
The dreamers always get fucked in the end.

Well - this here bitch can no longer live in fear of what anyone else says or thinks. 
I can't live as a slave to some elusive 'security' that only makes my essential self smaller and smaller.  
For me - living with true risk is actually a step out of illusion into reality.
Reality - in all its beauty and precariousness.
It's the harder way, the more vulnerable way, the way that can break you into little pieces.
It ain't no Disneyland.

But it's the only way.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

this is being alive

[I first read this poem while I was on a silent retreat last fall. It was shortly after my diagnosis. I found it tucked into a journal. The truth of it for my life then and now shakes me.] 

by Darcy R.

Caught between branches
awaiting the ground.
Eyes wide open,
control out of reach.
The crash of the waves, wind in my hair,
lightening --
Showing me glimpses of my future below.
Looking back I see so much.
If only I had
if only I'd
if only I'd not ---
I'd still be standing, two feet on the ground.
Now -
only the elements have control
over where
caught between branches
loved by nothing but the ideas I've imagined.
I am a particle of dust
of many born from one
and will return to the grass that grows.
Caught between branches
hanging -
waiting to crash to the ground.
Eyes wide open
yet control out of reach.
I relinquish
and for once
I am ok
I will survive
I want to fall free of the world above
where I've come from.
Held so highly by the minds I've imagined.
I am intimiately aware of my weight pressed into the tree,
my skin, my blood, my tears.
I am intimately aware that I am alive.
I am alive.

Sunday, July 08, 2012


"Security is mostly a superstition.
It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of humankind as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or it is nothing at all. "

-Helen Keller

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Song of Good Hope

Well if we're gonna make it,
Cross this river alive,
You better think like a boat,
And go with the tide,

And I've known where you've been,
Has really left you in doubt,
Of ever finding a harbour,
Of figuring this out,

And you're gonna need, all the help you can get,
So lift up your arms now, and reach for it,
Reach for it...

And take your time babe,
It's not as bad as it seemed,
You'll be fine babe,
It's just some rivers and streams,
In between, you and where you want to be,
[ Lyrics from: ]
Watch the signs now,
You'll know what they mean,
You'll be fine now,
Just stay close to me,
And may good hope, walk with you through everything,
Take your time babe,
It's not as bad as it seems,
You'll be fine babe,
It's just some rivers and streams,
In between, you and where you want to be,

Watch the signs now,
You'll know what they mean,
You'll be fine now,
Just stay close to me,
And may good hope walk with you through everything,
May the song of good hope

walk with you through everything.

-Glen Hansard

Friday, February 17, 2012

Reprieve - or not.

Just needed a little reprieve. From "world o' Cancer".
Just wanted to blog on a nice clear blog not bogged down with all the shite.
I just wanna pretend for right now that everything is fine, that this never happened, and life is continuing on as "normal". As if there is really such a thing. Quel Blague.

It is ironic that even as I try to escape my reality by venting on my original blog, here I am blogging about it anyway. I guess because as much as I might try to escape all this and pretend it's not happening, I am still consumed by it. And there isn't a whole lot I can do about that fact. Other than just wait it out.

Hunker down, stay low,
watch for the dark clouds to pass overhead.
Do not get up until the shaking stops.

Entering into the last phases (hopefully) of this experience has brought up the fact that soon life will be hanging in the balance again, and I will have to pick up, dust off, and see what is next for me in life. And this fact is overwhelming to me. It's like simultaneously being presented with both the opportunity of a lifetime, and a giant pain in the ass.

I have no doubt: major changes lie ahead. I can feel it, subtly, like a slight change in the atmosphere of my inner world. It shifts. And I'm not sure I'm ready to tackle whatever these changes will bring. But I'm not sure I can stand back either.

I guess that's the thing that life threatening disease does - or anything that really, seriously shakes up ones world: It drives home the fact that you only have one life. One very, very brief episode on this spinning planet. And you might as well do the absolute very best you can with it. You might as well figure out what the hell you really want and pursue it as hard as you can. You might as well find the root of your ultimate longing and desire and run with all your might towards this.

So much for a 'reprieve'.