Saturday, August 14, 2004

The road we are travelling...

I was the backseat passenger, driving down a darkened highway, and that was what the cabbie said to me; at the exact instant we passed by the Travellers Motel. He had been born in Duncan, British Columbia, transported by his parents to India for the next twelve years, and then returned to Canada by way of Halifax, when he was sixteen. I asked him if it had been a culture shock, and his reply surprised me. No, he said, it was not that hard to adapt, and actually happened fairly quickly. Huh. I was also sixteen when we moved away from my homeland and started life anew in another place, and I remember how hard it had been for me. Funny that he didn't. I won't lie, I felt a little bit of envy. But, in the long haul, I think that is what makes me a writer - that it all adds up in the equation of having a-not-so-normal life, that it keeps me on the seat of my pants...and that I take the time to transcribe its happenings. Here is a little on my thoughts as of late, of how I feel my mind flicker into the future, and how although I know I must be patient...I just want it to be here right now. Here you go, and may you enjoy.
It is all about the open road, in analogies, and in future prospects. Where it leads is where I am headed because I have always known that it is a compass set in the right direction. For all the times I have become anxious when it would bend and disappear out of sight, to the times when it was straight, wide, and true. I have found myself sitting and talking of travelling as of late, of how I will make my departure from Canada, to wondering if I really will do it alone. I am starting to plan for it, for example, like seeing that I will have to get a dog for companionship; and since I will be venturing into South America, that I will also need one for protection. Besides, it will be a great way to meet women...damn, did I just write that? Good because I meant to. They have always been the ruling star in my solar system, and one day I know I will meet my queen. But, that is another story for another time...or book.
So, where was I? Oh yeah, the open road and where it is heading for me. It always has seemed to have been littered with signs along my way. I have always wondered if the real signs in life are our dreams, whether waking or sleeping. To me, they all seem to become the same in time. We all have been there, the nights that you wake up from something so real that it sent shivers down your skin, raising it again when it actually comes true; except you pass it off as deja vu. I am coming to see that we are all given a road map at birth, that is in our blood, and only up to us to learn its secret code. That when we actually embark on the journey it is then that we find our way in life, and that it has always been there...waiting for us. It is there for us all, people, may we realize how easy it is, and that the hardest part is the introspection which comes along with it. How is learning about your innerself so difficult? Peeling back layers of soul, digging deep in the sense of thought, all designed to assist you in your search; to pave the way for those that supersede us, right? The children of the next generation that must be taught that rules are not made to be bent, but that they are meant to be shattered; that what has been written can always be a shortcut to the truth, and that by learning from past mistakes they can have a world in satori. It is us who must light that way people.
So, there you are, my thoughts on a late summer evening, when I just want to ignite my own flame, yet now understand that I must first prepare the rockwall; not to contain, but to build. It is the travellers I meet along my way that ease the burn of wanderlust, and diminish the heat to a light warmth. Conversations, people, it all comes down to conversations, and the stories that accompany them. May you hit the road and make your own to share later. When you do, please make sure to look me up, and we can all hang by the beach, in front of a bonfire...while the tales fly like sparks in the night, and we laugh as children may. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.
Satori n. Buddhism A spiritual awakening found in Zen Buddhism, often coming suddenly.
Segue intrv. v. To move smoothly and unhesitatingly from one one state, condition, situation, or element to another.
"As I make my slow pilgrimage through the world, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow."
- A.C. Benson

Sunday, August 08, 2004

Eighth desire?

Ever wonder how someone can put a number on the most amazing sights in the world? Supposedly, there are seven wonders that stand out above all the rest, and that leaves me to ponder this question: How can you limit beauty to a statistic? The most beautiful thing in the world to you, may not necessarily be the most beautiful thing in the world to me, right? I mean, for example, what if the lost city of Atlantis really existed? That it was real, not a hoax, and that it was really submerged under water on the ocean floor? Somehow, somehow, the power elite would make sure to exploit it, pillage it, and maybe even open up a twenty-four hour McDonald's in it. Just imagine that - snorkelling your way through a mythical city, only to come across the golden arches, and a pimple faced teenager asking, "Do you want fries with that?" It is all too surreal at times.
I, myself, have lived in what some refer to as one of the most beautiful places in the world...not the most beautiful place I have ever seen, for through all my travels, that still remains to be St. John's, Newfoundland. But, anyway I digress, and instead, choose to share with you a memory of that other beautiful place I spoke of. It took place on a pebbled cove on a mid-winters night, not so many years ago. Here you go, and may you enjoy.
I once had a girl tell me that Vancouver Island was unofficially considered the eighth wonder of the world. I would have to agree because no where else on this earth has time seemed to stand still. At least, for one night, it did for me, anyway. I remember standing with a friend, under the heavens on a clear winter night. Snow does not fall there so much as the rains make their presence known. I was observing a glorious sunset, asplendor in all colours of orange and rust red; all mingled in with a light blue sky. It seemed to split the horizon in half, splintering rays of dust into the nether regions of early dusk.
There is an energy on the Island, an untapped source of life that its inhabitants understand, and I could just imagine so many others watching the same sight. The sunset rose in the sky, sending out plumage like a...hold on a second. It was then that I stepped back and completely surveyed the scene. It was then that I realized it wasn't a sunset after all. It was a full moon rising.
My God, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I never thought the moon could light the sky upon entry like that, so much so that it overshadowed the sun's exit. It rose high above the stars, proud in all its glory over all of us earthbound mortals. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I noticed how calm the waters were. They were stretched out to a glass surface, striving to finally reach their maker. The ocean was becoming a concrete finish that I could almost walk upon; but no, only one man has ever been able to do that.
I slid my arms around my friend, and felt her hands grab hold of mine. We stood there until the moon reached its apex, and then stood a little while longer to pay our respects to the Universe. I know we all have had moments in our lives when time stood still, when even the birds stopped singing their songs of praise to Nature. But, to me, in the long run it comes down to what my eyes have seen, and what they have yet to see. Will she be there with me when I see my most beautiful sight in the world? For some reason, I know that she will. For the real true wonders of the world are all around us, in our waking hours. The one true wonder is Life. Grab it. Run with it. And by all means, live it. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.
"An age is called Dark, not because the light fails to shine, but because people refuse to see it."
- James Mitchener