Balancing the scales...

This is a new format I am entering into, here on my website that the generous souls at blogger so graciously supplied me free of charge. It has been done by other bloggers, but for me it is new territory...it is just that my postings seem to be getting longer, yet I still have so much to say, and only so much space to say it. So, my next series of writings will be separated into consecutive postings, with the new ones picking up where the old ones leave off. I am hoping to tickle your funny bones, captivate your senses, and make your mind stray from its normal deviant course. Here you go, and may you enjoy...

I spent last night hanging out on a beach, sitting in front of a campfire, walking on hard sands, and, of course, chasing waves. It was a spontaneous decision made by me and my friend, Rob, who finally got his van on up and running, and wanted to make the first road trip of the summer. We collaborated our thought-processes, grabbed some wood, kindling, paper for burning, and some snacks for the trip. A half hour later found us languishing in front a roasting fire, smiles on our faces, and stories tumbling from our mouths. There I stood, in front of the Atlantic Ocean, so powerful and angry in its own right, and it reminded me of a time when I stood on another beach.

On the West Coast of Canada, located on the Northeastern side of Vancouver Island, is a little paradise called Tofino. It is also as far as you can go in our country, for it is bordered on the Pacific Rim - the other side of that rim is Japan. I lived there a few summers ago, and events occurred there that would change my life in ways I could never have conceived, but the Island has always seemed to do that to me. Here is my main point though...the Ocean, whether East or West, North or South, Indian or Artic, has a hold on us humans in a way none of us can understand. It is a forever-flowing, ebbing, and tossing world of secrets. How many have stood before it and hurled their worries into the waves? Have walked away, feeling a just a little bit lighter, and a sense of calm running through their veins? How could you stand before a power as such and give away to past angst or pain? In my mind, it is not possible...for all those who sit behind a desk and fret about their mundane existence, I have only one thing to say: head west, man, head west. A brand new world awaits.

So, here is my point about that whole tangent...it is a matter of choice, people. In one hand, you have responsibility to yourself, and in the other, you have blame. Blaming another for where you are because they made a decision that effected your life. When all you have to do is look in the mirror and realize it all comes down to you. You don't like where you are? Then change your surroundings, deconstruct your comfort zones until they are so expansive that you are always comfortable no matter where you turn your head. Not comfortable in your own skin? Spurn the old, dig deep into your internal, find that which brings dis-ease into your soul, and understand its purpose. Then stand back, feel the scales of old fall to the wayside, and look down upon your new body; fresh and ready to take on the world. It is not like I am just saying this to see my own words, people, I say it because I have lived it, and still am. Sure, I might not have a mortgage, a wife or children, but I do have friends and family that I have left behind numerous times that are too many to count...but, once again, whose life are you living this for, anyway? Theirs? Or for yourself?

So, for now, here is where I take my leave, but I do depart with a question...if you had accountability in one hand, and accusation in the other, which one would you choose? Which of the two would allow you to wake in the morning and look yourself in the eye without guilt? It all comes down to the mad-ass balancing act of managing the scales, right? Right. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"I was taught very early that I would have to depend entirely upon myself; that my future lay in my own hands." - Darius Ogden Mills

City dwelling...

Outside my window, the rain continues to fall, and fall...and fall. It falls unto hard cement sidewalks, on top of cold impersonal skyscrapers, and into the endless depths of the Atlantic Ocean. It is funny to sit here and think that I never wanted to live in a city again, a metropolis of humans all running on a never-ending treadmill; all scrambling to get nowhere fast in the rat race of politics. I know, I know, I came here for school and in the long run, that is the desired result I am aiming for...but, on days like today, when I am stuck inside and just want to get out and do something, I find my thoughts stay their course. Amazing, that it does happen to me occasionally, but at times like these, I just want to be somewhere else, a place where the sands are soft and white; where the snow on top of mountain peaks are untracked and waiting for my arrival. If anything is helping to keep me sane, then it is that I have good friends all around me...it is just that right now we all are feeling the same; we all just want summer to come and stay for a few months.

Rain has always seemed to follow me where ever I go; or, maybe, more that I seem to be on its trail. I have seen many different forms of sky-juice in my life, but none the likes of what I saw growing up in Newfoundland. It seemed as if the rains there fell from the ground up; big, fat, drops of condensation that came down like falling cats and dogs. Well, okay, it was not that bad, but it was pretty thick sheets of water. Add in the fact that Newfoundand is smack-dab-on-the-tip of the Eastern part of the Atlantic Ocean, and then you might be able to conceive the winds that were partners in crime with those same rains. No one walked outside on those days unless you wanted to be blown away like Mary Poppins on speed...get it? The Disney character that used to float down by umbrella? Well, picture her in a windstorm, being blown backwards at high speeds, without any hope in the world of ever landing. Back home, the storms come to play, wreak havoc, and then blow away back into the ocean; brewing up plans on when they will be back for a return engagement. Leaving the inhabitants of that Island grateful for the repreive.

It is days like these, that I realize I am back on the East Coast of Canada, in the beginnings of summer, and wondering when this damn liquid sunshine will stop..and allow for the real Vitamin D to arrive. I mean, dammit man, if I have to be in a city again, then at least open the clouds so I can see what surrounds me; so, I can see old bunkers of rock and stone overlooking the flatness of water, and grassy knolls of history covered in the growth of time. The last few months have held scenes of an age-old culture based on tradition, foggy, smoked filled nights, and time honoured values. When the clouds break, we all rush out to bask in the sun, and feel its energy...I just hope we can remember what it looks like when it does show its face. Until then, I will just blame it on the rain.

"Far away in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead."
- Louisa May Alcott (1832 - 1888)